Edited by
'larryinseattle'
without whom these stories would never be as good.
*****
Like most guys, I love the sight of a beautiful woman in high heels with a garter-belt and hose. And like most guys, I've seen more than enough of them on the Internet and in porno movies. And I've jacked-off to my share of fantasies about making love to one of these beautiful women, that is until several years ago when things changed. Now I can fulfill my fantasy as often as I want with one of the most beautiful women I've ever known.
She is slightly older than I am and she loves to wear sexy lingerie and heels all the time. I can't imagine seeing her without the accompanying 'click, click, click' of her heels. Now I'm not talking about 1-inch "flats" or a 2-inch pseudo heel I'm talking 3 and 4-inch heels all the time. It doesn't matter what she's wearing; jeans, a dress, a nightgown, or absolutely nothing at all she always wears heels. She wears them when she goes shopping, over to a friend's house, around the house, or when she's fucking my brains out. Yes, you read right 'around the house' or better yet I should say 'around our house' because she's my step-mother or rather my ex-step-mother.
This whole thing started just after my 17
th
birthday. I had sensed that things weren't going well between my parents for quite some time but never even considered how bad it was until one night when they had a fight and my mom said she'd had enough of my dad spending so much time at work.
Right away he started to defend himself by saying he was doing it for the sake of the family and that he wasn't having an affair or anything like that, at which point she started to laugh.
She told him she knew he wasn't having an affair because he was too committed to his job to take time off for such a thing. The simple fact was that she'd found someone else and she was the one having an affair. The man had asked her to move in with him and she wanted a divorce.
You may note that he asked 'her' to move in with him not 'us'. So there I was, 17 years old and living with a father who was never home. It's not like I minded or anything since he had never been around before the divorce but about a year and a half later things changed.
I was almost 19 and had just graduated from high school. I had decided to take a year off before leaving for college on a partial swimming scholarship and had absolutely nothing planned except to enjoy life. That was when Dad brought Constance home.
Constance, aka Connie, is 5-foot, 6-inches tall in stocking feet but as I said she's always wearing heels so she's actually closer to 5-foot, 9-inches. She was 25 years old when I met her and a research assistant at the company where my dad worked. Her hair was a soft auburn and her eyes were the color of a sweet milk-chocolate. Her skin was creamy-white with freckles, though they are hard to find now because of the 'all-over tan' that she's acquired. And to make her even more of a young man's 'wet dream', her measurements are 36D-27-38 (though I didn't find that out until later) perfectly balanced on a pair of statuesque legs.
When dad brought her home for dinner that first night she was dressed in a form-fitting green dress that exposed more than enough of her cleavage to instantly give me a hard-on. She also wore coffee-colored hose and green heels to match the dress that clicked from the instant she got out of the car. I barely remember what we talked about as we sat around that table. In fact, the only thing I remember is fantasizing about what she was or wasn't wearing under her dress. Needless to say, I excused myself as soon as we were done and spent the rest of the evening with my hand vigorously running up and down my swollen member.
The next morning I got up early, hopped in the shower and was just heading back to my room when she came out of my dad's room. I had no idea she had spent the night but it was pretty obvious since all she was wearing was one of his white dress shirts, which was only being kept closed by the lower two buttons, and her heels.
"Good morning," she said cheerfully as she stretched her arms above her head.
The very sight of her sent my hormones into a whirl as her breasts were pressed against the shirt, outlining her distended nipples. The shirt had climbed upwards until it scarcely covered her womanly treasures. At the same time. the heady aroma of her womanhood flooded my nostrils as I mumbled, "Morning." As fate would have it, it was at that exact moment that my towel slipped loose and fell to the floor revealing my growing hard-on.
Instinctively, her eyes were drawn to it. "Nice," she whispered as she unconsciously licked her lips.
Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy it when a woman complements me and my 'stuff' but Connie was a 'woman' in every sense, not just a high school girl, and she had just spent the night with my dad. Embarrassed, I scooped up the towel and wrapped it around my waist as I spun and almost sprinted for my bedroom.
Phrases like,
"Perv, asshole, dipshit,"
and others flooded my mind as I thought about what had just happened. That is, until I remembered what she'd done ... or what she hadn't done. She didn't get upset or yell, she hadn't even seemed embarrassed, instead she had complimented me. Instantly, my cock hardened again and I spent the next hour 'jacking-off' as my mind imagined me making love to her instead of my dad.
After that first dinner together, Connie became a routine fixture around the house until one evening dad announced that she was moving in and they were getting married. I swear you could have heard a pin drop, until I finally muttered, "Ok, whatever makes you happy."
Dad's face seemed to beam at my response, while Connie smiled an impish grin that revealed absolutely nothing at all.
The next Saturday morning the moving truck appeared and I spent most of the day helping haul boxes and furniture into the house. When everything was done, dad ordered pizza and we headed for the pool in the backyard.
Since I had been wearing shorts all day I instantly dove in and began to swim laps. Shortly afterwards I heard the distinct 'click, click, click' of Connie's heels. When I looked up she was stretched out on a lounge chair wearing a deep blue bikini and, of course, matching heels. The very sight caused me to choke on some water.
"Are you ok?" my dad asked.
"Ya," I replied but when I looked at Connie all I saw was that impish grin again.
Two weeks later they were married. Time flowed by as Connie settled in. Each day she and dad would drive to work together, leaving me a list of chores or favors to do. By 5 o'clock, one or both of them would be home and we'd have dinner, followed by 'family time' as we'd discuss the day's events before heading our own ways for the rest of the evening. Yet, there were subtle changes taking place as well.
I'm not sure if my dad noticed it right away but as soon as they got home Connie began changing into 'something more comfortable' which usually meant something with less material. Tube-tops, 'Daisy-dukes', peasant tops, hip-huggers, all of them worn with a matching pair of heels and usually without a bra, or so I thought. It was during this same time that I saw her 'impish grin' more and more frequently.
By the end of the second month, I was honestly thinking of moving out. The combination of hearing their bedsprings squeaking several times a week along with her impish grin was driving me nuts. The fact that she had almost caught me checking out her lingerie drawer several days before may have also had a little to do with it too.
That night I went to bed early trying to figure out how to explain to my dad why I was planning on moving out. Several hours later I awoke to the sounds of squeaking bedsprings and the headboard knocking on the wall that separated my room from theirs but something was different.
The sound of her voice was muffled as if filtered through the wall "... don't stop. Fuck me. Make me cum. I want to feel your cum filling my pussy. Harder ... harder ... no ... not yet ... just a little bit more ... not yet ... almost there ..." Then I suddenly heard her cry out, "NNNNOOOOOO," in anguish. Afterwards the springs stopped squeaking and the house went silent. After several moments I heard their muffled voices again and slipped from my bed. Tip-toeing down the hall, I listened.
"I'm sorry, baby. You just get me so turned on I couldn't seem to hold back," I heard my father almost pleading for forgiveness.
"I understand but it's getting to be an every time event," Connie retorted. "You get your rocks off and now I'm stuck here like this. I almost can't remember the last time I had an orgasm."
Shocked at what I was hearing, I started to head back to my room only to be betrayed by a creaky board in the floor.