Comments:
1. It's a multi chapter story.
2. Not everybody agrees intimate relationship between stepmother and stepson is 'true incest,' but I think it is.
3. No sexual thoughts or activity involving younger than 18 years old is mentioned.
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When I was in high school, I was ogled by boys and suffered jealous bursts by other girls. Being born to a Swedish mother and a Jamaican father blessed me with great phenotypic genes. I was 5'3", 128 pounds, with long straight dark hair, a face that reminded many of Eva Mendez, and a guitar-shaped body with huge breasts. My character was shaped by 2 opposing factors: On one side, by my parents, who loved me dearly, spoiled me, and ALWAYS ensured I got whatever I wanted, and on the other side, by the constant need to survive among hostile girls and hungry boys.
These contrasting influences may affect kids in different ways, but in my case, I cared much less about my studies and joined some of the baddest guys in the neighborhood. By the age of 18, I agreed to date Tony, a 24 year old, who was the son of a known gang leader. Between the 2 of us, he was the dominant figure: He taught me to drink alcohol, use all kinds of drugs, and have sex whenever HE felt like it. I loved the attention I got when we went to parties with his friends and accommodated all of Tony's needs, from cleaning after him, to cooking for him, and being subjected to his perverted sexual appetites. In addition to classic vaginal sexual positions, we had anal sex, threesomes with his best friends, bondage, and even spanking. I accepted everything, thinking he loved me, and one day we'd get married. However, he dumped me after 2 years for what he called 'fresh meat.'
After he left me, I was devastated for about 2 weeks. Then Norm, another gang member, heard I was available and took me under his wings. In the beginning, he was sweet; he brought me flowers and chocolates and kissed me gently. But slowly his true colors appeared. He also started ordering me around and making me his sex slave. Whenever Norm visited my house, he was polite to my parents, who adored him and never realized his criminal activity and the way he was treating their sweet princess. At least, unlike Tony, he never hit me. Our relationship continued for almost 2 years, with me working as a secretary at a lawyer's office.
Everything changed when I turned 22. Norm and 2 other guys were caught by the police after robbing a couple of stores in the neighborhood. I attended the trial. Over there it was revealed that Norm had a long list of prior convictions, and he was sent to jail for 10 years.
My employer, Larry Lohan, saw that I was distraught. He gave me an extra week of PTO and even raised my salary by 8%. For additional money, he told me whenever he and his wife left the house for a show or a party with friends, he'd be happy to use me as a babysitter for his 7 year old son. I agreed to babysit, and that's how I met his son, Michael. When we were introduced, he was very shy. He liked me to read him stories, and later we usually played hide and seek. Larry and his wife used my babysitting services until Michael turned 10. Then, without telling me the reason, they stopped.
In the years that followed, I had a few guys I went out with, but I attempted to screen them better. Each one lasted between several months to 3 years. I knew they were attracted to me because of my appearance and not my brains, but it didn't bother me. As long as they treated me with respect, it was fine. However, on many nights I kept dreaming about my past sexual escapades with Norm and Tony, woke up horny, and masturbated until I came.
My boss, Larry, was always a gentleman in my presence. He might have been a shark in court, but he treated me with utmost respect, even when I screwed up at work. I tried my best to help him as much as I could: I served him coffee at 10 am, made sure his favorite cookies were also on the shelf, kept his office tidy and neat, and ensured his scheduling and charge files were flawless.
One day, I brought him the coffee and saw him sitting red-eyed, looking blankly at the wall in front of him. He didn't acknowledge me, and his mind was obviously somewhere else. I touched his shoulder and said, "Larry, is there anything I can do to help?"
He glanced at me, and for the first time, I saw tears in his eyes, "Julia, as you know, I am fairly introverted. Since the last time you babysat Michael, many changes happened in my family. Four years ago, my brother, who lives in Australia, came to visit for a week. He talked with Mike and convinced him to continue his studies in Sidney. My brother is one of the most important employees at their large Taronga Zoo. Neither my wife nor I wished him to move half the way around the world, but here in school Mike was disruptive, and the principal notified us that if he committed one more illicit act, he would be expelled. Mike was happy to move away, telling us he loved animals more than people. So we thought we could go for such a drastic change. Two years later, my wife was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. We tried everything, but last night we were told it spread to other organs, and she would not live to see Christmas."
I was stunned, "Larry, why didn't you tell me earlier? I would do ANYTHING for you and your wife."
He had a bitter smile, "There was nothing you could do before and nothing you can do now. My wife refuses to eat and is on daily doses of narcotics. She begged me not to talk about it with Mike, because it would worry him..."
"May I go and talk to her, convince her to eat, or at least console her?"
"No! Sorry, but the answer is no. These days she doesn't want anybody to see her. She lost half her original weight and could not tolerate people watching her with pity in their eyes. She was adamant, saying until she died, she wanted nobody at home but me and her helper."
In the following weeks, I saw Larry's hair turn silver and new wrinkles on his forehead, until one day, he called me and said she expired. He tried to contact Michael, but couldn't: His son was on a trip with 2 other guys in Japan. About 50 people attended the funeral.
...
In the next few days, some relatives went to Larry's house to cheer him up, but to no avail. I gave him a week to drown his sorrow in alcohol and then knocked on his door. His voice sounded raspy, "Go away. Leave me alone."
I found the spare key in the pot by the door, entered, and felt the stench. The house was dark with the curtains closed, the kitchen table and sink full of used plates and utensils, remnants of pizzas on the floor - You get my drift. I said loudly, "Larry, I am here to help." He shouted from his bedroom, "Julia, go home!"
"No, I am not. I came to clean the house and make sure you have everything you need." There was no answer.
I cleaned the living room and the kitchen, threw the out-of-date milk from the fridge, and said through his door, "I go to the super to buy food for you. Shall I buy what I think you need, or you tell me?"
His voice sounded softer, "Please, don't..."
"Larry, I am worried about you. I remember your wonderful wife. She wouldn't want you to stop living, so I'll buy what I think you require, come back, and force you out." He stayed mum.
I returned 40 minutes later, using my money for his foodstuff. I knocked on his bedroom door. He mumbled, "I am in bed."
I opened the door. The room stunk. I opened the curtains and saw him crumbling on the bed with clothes he probably hadn't changed for days. His hair was disheveled, and he had a newly grown beard.
I approached him, "Larry, I have to clean the room. Go to the bathroom, shower, and put on clean clothes while I fix the room." He just stared at me with a dazed look.
Next, I grabbed his hand and gently pulled him out of the bed, helping him to the bathroom. In his closet, I found a pair of underwear, a shirt, and pants, and placed them with a clean towel on the stool by the shower.
I started the hot water and gazed at him. He just stood there, helpless. I blurted, "Are you going to undress by yourself, or I do it and drag you in myself?"
He whispered, "I'll do it."
