Birds And Bees Talk With Stepmother

Birds & Bees Talk with Stepmother

Stepmother, Elizabeth, has an interactive talk with her virgin stepson, Homer, about sex.

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Author's Note:

As Literotica no longer accepts true, incestuous stories, this story is not true. Alas, unfortunately, and sadly, this incestuous story is a work of fiction. I'm sorry but nothing in this story is factual. It's all make believe. Everything is embellished for sexual sensationalism.

With that said, Elizabeth asked me to write this fictional story about her stepson, Homer. Instead of just telling him about sex, a novel way for her to sexually educate him, she imagined teaching him about the birds and the bees by actually having sex with him. Something she wished would really happen, she sexually fantasized over her stepson.

'Every stepson wished they had a sexually, consensually, and willing stepmother who would have incestuous sex with them,' I thought while writing this. 'Wow! What a woman? What an unbelievable woman to have sex with her stepson while teaching him about the birds and the bees.'

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With her unembarrassed and unashamed for Homer to see her naked, she masturbated herself while imagining her stepson seeing her naked. She masturbated herself while imagining seeing her stepson naked. She masturbated herself while imagining having forbidden sex with her stepson. Suffice to write with her sexually frustrated and horny, taking long, bubble baths every day, she masturbated herself in her tub.

'Maybe by having the sex talk with my stepson, with one thing leading to another, I can fuck him and suck him without feeling guilty, remorseful, and/or ashamed,' she thought.

With her never actually having had sex with her stepson, this fictional story is her imagined, incestuous relationship of her having sex with Homer. This is what Elizabeth wished would sexually happen. Whether this story is make believe or not, this story is her masturbation fantasy of having incestuous sex with her stepson.

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Birds & Bees Talk with Stepmother

After my husband, Bob, went to prison for life without parole, I was home alone with my 20-year-old stepson, Homer. My husband's child from his first marriage after his wife was killed in a car crash, I had raised him since he was a child. By making it look like a tragic automobile accident, we all suspected that Bob had murdered his first wife to marry me, a stripper that he met at a strip club.

What did I know? I thought he was just a nice guy with pockets bulging with money to spend on me. Not treating in the way that men normally treat a stripper, he was always kind, loving, and respectful. He loved me as much as I loved him.

Bob gave me full custody of my stepson after he began serving his lifelong sentence. I loved Homer as if he was my flesh and blood. With me his only relative, willing to care for him and love him, I only wanted the best for him. Yet, as Homer grew older, and with him now 20-years-old, I started to sexually think about him in a forbidden, incestuous way.

Fortunately for me, no longer having to work, as if I had won the lottery, my husband left me money, a lot of money. Actually, he left me a small fortune. He left me a little more than two-million-dollars in cash hidden all over the house.

With him having carpentry skills, he painstakingly hid the money in secret locations. God forbid we had a house fire; I'd be tearing out walls trying to save the money before saving myself. Instead of squandering money on fast cars, partying with whores and strippers, and buying drinks for friends, once he met me, he saved his money. Thinking more about me and Homer, should he go to jail, he squirreled away his cash from the armed robberies that he did and the murders for hire that he was paid to do.

Except for his occasional visits to strip clubs, not to see strippers, he talked with and planned jobs with his mob friends without fear of being recorded. He made all of his nefarious, criminal deals, in strip clubs while we lived a quiet life in suburbia. I'm glad that the police arrested him at a strip club instead of arresting him at home. Then, even when they came to my door with a search warrants, one for our house, one for our garage, and one for my car. I was relieved that my neighbors were not home and were all at work.

Making a mess of everything, they tour the house apart while looking for my husband's loot. Instead of having of bringing currency sniffing dogs, dogs that can sniff out the ink on money, they brought drug sniffing dogs, but my husband didn't deal in drugs. Besides, with Bob's money buried behind walls and mixed with plenty of coffee grounds to throw off a dog's scent, cash sniffing dogs are generally used at airports to sniff luggage.

Bob's special talent was planning robberies and, if the money was good, murder for hire. He was a skilled hitman. During their surprise raid, the police found nothing, not a dollar. No doubt suspecting that the police would knock at his door one day, Bob hid his money well. They not only searched the house but also, they searched the garage, and they searched my car.

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As devious as John Wick when hiding anything, everything in the house appeared as if it belonged there. Yet, with secret panels opened with a remote control, in the way that Tony Soprano hid his guns in plain sight in secret panels in his house, Bob did the same thing with his money. Nothing to find in the garage, the garage walls weren't even insolated. In the way that they searched the 1970 Lincoln Continental Mark111 in the French Connection, dissembling it, they searched my Chevy Impala and still found nothing.

As long as I was careful and not flashy spending money, I had plenty enough money to last our lifetimes. The verbal agreement that I had with my husband was that I would care for his son and he would care for us by allowing me to use his illegally, gotten money. Also, that I would deposit money in his prison account for him to buy whatever he needed at the inmate commissary.

I had plenty enough money to pay for our monthly mortgage on our house, pay all of our monthly bills, eventually buy a new car for myself, buy Homer a car, and pay for his college education. Even after paying all of those monthly expenses throughout the years, I'd still have more than a million-dollars in cash left to support ourselves. We never worried about not having enough money to support ourselves.

Other than a safe deposit box at the bank, the only thing that I couldn't do was to deposit the money in my checking account at bank. With that amount of cash calling undue attention to myself, any deposit over $9,999.00 would alert the IRS. The last thing that I wanted was an IRS agent auditing us, looking up my skirt, inside my bikini panties, and inside my low-cut double D cup bra for undeclared income.

Instead, of depositing large, lump sums of cash that would trigger an IRS investigation and a subsequent audit, I made regular, smaller, one to five-thousand-dollar deposits of cash in my checking account. I bought money orders to pay some of my bills. Being smart about hiding the money, I used debit cards, gift cards, and charge cards to buy whatever else we needed. Instead of calling attention to ourselves by buying a new Cadillac Escalade, we blended in our neighborhood by continuing to drive our three-year-old, Chevy Impala that Bob had registered in my name instead of in his name.

Had the house and the car been registered in his name instead of in my name, the justice department would have taken the house and the car and sold them at police auction. Bob was smart. A professional criminal all of his life, he knew all the angles. He knew how to keep what was his without anyone taking it or confiscating it.

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With Homer a bit of a nerd by not only his first name but also with his upkept hair, wrinkled clothes, and his glasses, he was unpopular at school. He didn't have to tell me that he was a virgin because, with him constantly masturbating in his room or in the bathroom, shaking the whole house, I already knew that he never had sex with a woman. A young man filled with excess testosterone; it was clearly obvious that he was as horny as he was sexually frustrated.

Feeling sorry for him, with his father not here to have that birds and bees talk with him, the least that I could do for him was to not only talk to him about sex but also to teach him about sex and women. I needed to tell him all that he needed to know to live and survive in a world that was all about sex and money. Yet, with me as horny as I was sexually frustrated, not stopping with just telling him about sex, the least that I could do was to no longer have him be a virgin by actually giving him sex, incestuous sex.

'With my husband not here and with me a whore, why not have sex with Homer,' I thought? 'No one will know what we do behind closed, bedroom doors. Do I dare fuck and suck Homer? Do I dare allow him to not only see me naked but also allow him to touch and feel me where a stepson should never touch and feel his naked stepmother?'

Now, that having sex with Homer was more of a reality than it was a fantasy. I continued thinking about having incestuous sex with my stepson. Even though we're not blood related, sex between a man and a woman living under the same roof is deemed incestuous as much as it's deemed forbidden. Yet, what did I care, sex is sex? I wanted to suck him as much as I wanted to fuck him.

'Sexually aroused just by thinking of what I'd do and all that he'd do, did I dare allow my stepson to see me naked? Did I dare allow him to touch, feel, and fondle my naked body? Did I dare stroke, suck, and fuck his cock? Did I dare give Homer sex, incestuous sex,' I thought while masturbating myself?

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Killing two birds with one stone, again, with no one knowing what we do behind closed, bedroom doors, and with me consensually willing, we both could take care of one another's sexual needs by having sex with one another. It wouldn't be as big of a deal for me to have sex with my stepson as it would be for him to have sex with his stepmother. Honestly, with it being a long time since I had sex, I'd love to suck and fuck my stepson as I'm sure that he'd love me to suck and fuck him, too.

Actually, using my sex talk as my justification, I looked forward to having sex with Homer under the guise that I was educating him about the birds and the bees. No surprise there, easy for me to sexually seduce him, I already knew that he masturbated over me. Hearing him as I walked down the hall to his room, I listened to all that he said through his closed, bedroom door. I heard him talking to me as if I was in the room with him while he stroked his virginal prick faster and harder.

With us on the same, incestuous page, clearly, he consensually, willingly, and sexually wanted to do everything to me that I wanted to consensually, willingly, and sexually wanted to do with him. With us wanting to have incestuous sex with one another, he wanted to have sex with me as much as I wanted to have sex with him. To be honest, I couldn't wait to have sex with my stepson as much as he, undoubtedly, wanted to have sex with his stepmother.

According to his masturbation dialogue, he wanted to touch and feel me while making out with me as much as I wanted him to touch and feel me while making out with me. He wanted to feel me through my clothes while undressing me. The little pervert that he is, my stepson wanted to strip me naked. As much as he wanted to see, touch, and feel my naked body, he wanted me to see, touch, and feel his naked body, too.

'With me thinking about it and masturbating over it, I'd love for Homer to strip me naked,' I thought. 'I'd love for my stepson to see me without my clothes. I'd love for him to touch, feel, and fondle my naked body. I'd love to touch, feel, and fondle his naked body, too.'

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"Mom, I want you," I heard him say through his closed, bedroom door while he masturbated himself over the thoughts of having sex with me. "I'd love to feel and touch you everywhere through your clothes while making out with you," he said while stroking himself faster and harder. "I want to fuck you. I want you to blow me," he said. "I need to cum in your beautiful mouth."

Determined to make himself cum, he stroked his erect prick so fast so hard that he rattled the windows. Perhaps, from watching sex on TV, he seemed to already know plenty about what a man does with a woman. Perhaps, from playing his video games, making my job easier in teaching him about sex, he seemed to know a lot about sex.

"I'd love to feel your big tits," he said while continuing to masturbate himself. "I'd love to feel your shapely ass. I'd love to see your naked pussy. I'd love to slowly undress you. I'd love to strip you naked," said Homer while continuing to stroke his cock faster and harder.

Again, with him shaking the house and rattling the dishes in the China cabinet downstairs, it wasn't hard to know when he was masturbating himself. Anytime I wanted to see his naked, erect prick, barging open his bedroom door without knocking, it was easy to catch him playing with himself. When delivering his laundry without knocking on his bedroom door, unexpectedly bursting open his door, I've caught him masturbating himself several times.

With me catching him masturbating so very many times, I wondered if he was deliberately allowing me to catch him masturbating. As if he was deliberately exposing himself to me, I've seen his naked, erect prick many times. With me no longer having a man in my life, seeing his naked, erect prick made me horny as much as it made me sexually frustrated. Every time I saw his naked prick, I masturbated myself while imagining stroking his cock, sucking his cock, and fucking his cock.

Something that he was born with, like father, like son, Homer had a big, beautiful dick. He had an even a bigger cock than his dad. When teaching him about sex, with me feeling horny and sexually frustrated, too, I thought of him impaling my mouth and my pussy with his big dick. Wicked of me to admit, I wouldn't mind getting me some of that big prick. At the very least, I'd love to give him a hand job. I'd love to wrap my manicured fingers around his big dick and stroke him. I'd love to watch and hear him cum.

With him wearing headphones with his eyes closed when I delivered his laundry, he had no idea that I was in his room watching him masturbate himself. Using his masturbation dialogue as my excuse to have incestuous sex with my stepson, it was then that I took it upon myself as my motherly duty to help prepare him for the opposite sex. With a picture worth a thousand words, it was my responsibility as his stepmother to not only tell him the facts of life but also to show him the facts of life.

'I can't wait to have sex with Homer,' I thought. 'I can't wait to teach him how to give a woman sexual pleasure. I need to cum.'

I was sexually willing to help him through his sexual transition. I was ready to show him how to be a sexual man from being a horny boy. It was one thing talking about sex but quite another thing showing him all that he needed to know about sexually, seducing women.

Using the sex talk as my excuse to have sex with Homer was the key was for me to have sex with my stepson. Agreeable to me breaking his cherry, instead of just telling him, he'd never forget what I told him if I showed him what to do. He'd never forget all that I told him if I allowed him to use me as his first woman, his sexual, demonstration model. He'd never forget all that I told him if I allowed him to see me without my clothes.

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First, taking it slow, one baby step at a time, I needed him to kiss me, French kiss me. Then, while French kissing me, I needed to allow him to touch me and feel me through my clothes while making out with me. Finally, I needed to show him how to undress a woman by teaching him and allowing him to undress me slowly and sexily.

'I can't wait for Homer to touch me and feel me through my clothes while making out with me and while undressing me,' I thought. 'I can't wait for him to undress me. I can't wait for my stepson to see me topless before seeing me naked.'

Something that I looked forward to him doing as much as, no doubt, he'd look forward to doing, I needed to allow him to strip me naked, totally naked. I needed him to see me without my clothes. I needed Homer to see me not only in my bra and panties but also, I needed him to see me in my low-cut, short, sheer, and sexy nightgowns. I needed him to see me topless and naked.

I needed to allow him to not only see my naked body but also, I needed to allow him to touch, feel, and fondle my naked body. I needed to allow him to touch, feel, and fondle me everywhere that a stepson should never touch, feel, and fondle his stepmother's naked body while making out with her. I needed my stepson to have sex with me.

'How hot would that be to be naked in front of my stepson,' I thought. 'How hot would that be for him to see me without my clothes? How hot would that be to have sex with Homer?'

For me to instill confidence in his sexual abilities, I needed him to give me multiple, sexual orgasms with his fingers, his tongue, and with his cock. I needed to show him how to finger my clit and finger fuck my pussy. I needed to teach him how to masturbate a woman by masturbating me. I needed Homer to masturbate me. I needed him to make me cum.

I needed to show him how and where to lick me while fingering me. I needed him to learn how to eat a woman by eating me. I needed to show him how to give me a sexual orgasm by fingering and licking my pussy. I needed him to know how to give oral sex to a woman by giving oral sex to me.

It was my job not only as his stepmother but also as his only friend, his best friend, to show him how to make love to a woman by allowing him to make love to me. I needed to show him how to fuck a woman by allowing him to fuck me. I needed him to give me a sexual orgasm with his fingers by masturbating me. I needed him to give me another sexual orgasm with his tongue by eating me. I needed him to give me a third, sexual orgasm by making love to me, and a fourth sexual orgasm by fucking me fast enough and hard enough.

'How hot would that be for my stepson to give me multiple, sexual orgasms,' I thought. 'I can't wait to cum.'

Not stopping there in his sexual education, and not all one way, returning the sexual favor, I needed to give him, as his stepmother, his only female confidant, his first, hand job. I needed to stroke my stepson's cock. I needed to stroke his big dick faster and harder. As if he was in a VIP with me at a strip club, showering him with sexual affection and erotic attention, I needed to make him cum.

'Cum, Homer. Cum. Cum for mommy,' I imagined saying to him.

Not stopping with just a hand job, I needed to give him his first blowjob. I needed to not only suck his cock while stroking his prick but also, I needed to allow him to cum in my mouth. I needed him to watch me swallow his cum. Then, I needed to allow him to cum all over my face, in my hair, and across my naked breasts. Something that he'd never forget, I needed my stepson to give me a cum bath, his first cum bath.

'Who better to give a cum bath than to his stepmother,' I thought? 'I can't wait to be dripping with my stepson's cum. I can't wait to have Homer's cum all over my face, in my hair, and across my naked breasts.'

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Normally, at night, with the COVID virus stopping us from going out with our friends, we stayed home watching a movie or playing a board game. Tired after my household chores during the day, I sat on the couch with my stepson with a robe over my nightgown. He felt comfortable enough with me to wear a t-shirt and pajama bottoms without underwear. He had such a big dick and I couldn't wait to take it in my hand, in my mouth, and in my pussy.