Hot Step-Mom

FEMDOM | STEP-EROTICA | NSFW | TABOO Jess gets to work on her 21-year-old stepson

Clive has finished cleaning himself up, and from the bedroom window watches his wife, Jess, playing with his three sons. Where does she get the energy? The drive?

Jess is playing basketball with all of them. Her pleated tennis skirt flirts with the breeze, and Jess's own athletic lunges give everyone the chance to snatch glimpses of her form fitting shorts. She fights for every ball, though they are just messing about in the backyard. Always competitive, always physical, but always fun too.

Clive had met her at university, him a professor on the home stretch to 50. Jess, the new sports psychologist, some 11 years his junior. But they both shared a passion for exercise, for active travelling, and for sex. And having three step-sons didn't faze her. She always said she'd never know how to handle a daughter, especially if she was into girly stuff. The twins, both 18, still lived at home. Jonathan, the eldest, had just turned 21 and now had his own flat a few blocks away.

Sadly, knowing it is time for work, Clive taps on the window and waves goodbye. With a confident, radiant smile she waves back. The three sons haven't even noticed him. All of them laughing, having fun. How it's always been actually. Any worries he had vanished four months ago when she finally moved in. She fitted in from day one.

"So, are you staying for tea, Jonathan?" Asks Jess, regaining her breath quickly, scooping up the ball, and heading inside. All three siblings follow her. It's just begun to rain.

"If that's OK?"

"Of course."

They are now all in the kitchen and Jess is grabbing ingredients from the fridge.

"Kyle and Jake, heat some oil and add these things, OK?"

They nod, she'd trained them well in their kitchen duties.

Then she turns to Jonathan. And she looks very intently into his eyes, "I'm going upstairs to change." Then she's gone.

He pauses, uncertain, but curious, and eventually heads up the stairs slowly, not sure what he is doing. What he is supposed to do. Then he sees her; the bedroom door is ajar.

She is indeed changing, briskly, in a no-nonsense way. Off comes her trainer socks, skirt and top, all the time her back to him. She is about to put on a new outfit, when she spies what she hoped she would in the bedside mirror; Jonathan frozen, watching her intently.

She flops the new outfit she was about to wear back onto the bed, and instead, ever so slowly, starts to peel off her seamless sport shorts, agonisingly revealing, inch by inch, round, full, firm buttocks. She hears his intake of breath. And so she turns the screw, excruciatingly slowly, she starts to lift her sports bra over her shoulders then over her head and her breasts finally wobble free. The only part of her body she allows to wobble.

Without turning to look at him, she asks, "Jonathan, are you erect, yet?" Then she half turns, revealing a tantalising side view of those bobbing, mini mountains of womanliness. They pertly rise up above the flat landscape of her tight, athletic torso.

"Yes", he huskily manages to breath out of his mouth.

"Good boy. Come in. Close the door. And get your cock out."

Once the door is closed, it's dark. Only the patter of rain on the window intrudes on the quietness. The dark and the quiet inviting them to carry lightly the responsibilities of reality.

She hears him clumsily stripping, she's inpatient, holding her breath. She finally hears a belt drop to the floor and steps towards him, grabs his wrists and rises his arms above his naked body. Then she thoroughly examines his youthful frame with both hands, running them up and down the length of his legs, then arms, into his armpits and shoulders, then running fingers down his chest, stomach...

"You still work out quite a lot, I see. You are a fine, young man now, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I -- "

She pulls his body into hers, and the fullness of her breasts presses into his chest. He can feel her hard nipples rubbing against him.

"Do you like how they feel, Jonathan? I've caught you many, many times, trying to get a little peek at them."

"No, it's -- "

"It's OK. I liked it. Now let's see what you've got for mommy, shall we?"

Her hands drop from his stomach, searching and finding what she wants. She grips his thick shaft, purrs, and plants a domineering kiss on his lips. Then she shifts her own lips to his ear, whispering, "I was doing this to your father, not half an hour ago."

All he does is groan. Her technique is all in the flick of the wrist, it's quick, and it brings a ruthless pleasure, bordering on pain. She continues to talk in his ear, "Would you like to know how you compare?"

"What?"

"I said, would you like to know whose penis is bigger. Your, or your dad's."

But Jack was climaxing, hard, spurting ragged streams of come across the bedroom carpet.

Before he'd even finished ejaculating, Jess was already pulling up her pleated skirt.

By the time he was thinking about pulling up his own jeans, she was fully dressed and at the door.

"See you downstairs, Jonathan."

***