I didn't have much time but I wanted to be in the
winter contest
this year. Everyone is 18 or over.
*******
His yawn almost lasted the trek up the stairs.
Ben was groggy and grabbed at his junk, tugging on it through the tight briefs.
Christmas was great and all, but he was desperate for a bowl of cereal. To his surprise, he laid eyes on cake. More specifically, the heart shaped, creamy vanilla cheeks of his step-mom Cynthia.
It's not the first time he's come up the stairs to her bent over and rummaging through the fridge. However, he had never seen this much of her, much less the white lace panties that were completely devoured by her butt.
The plump outline between her thighs was a beacon and he bit his lip. She started to rise as he admired her long, delicious legs.
"Oh, hey, baby boy."
He would never, ever, get tired of her southern drawl. It melted him down and made him fuzzy inside. Couple that with that big, five foot ten stature and her ugly Christmas sweater and he had a recipe for later, stored away in the bank. He couldn't wait to have those wavy blond strands between his finger tips. The imagination was wonderful.
"Morning."
The disheveled woman pushed up her round, rose gold glasses and sipped her coffee. He felt her gaze while he was in the cupboard and suddenly realized just how far he stuck out after it grazed the cabinet below. Too late to hide it now, he just had to act normal.
He had a seat with his fruity flavored pebbles and gave in to her persistent stare from across the island. They smiled and he went to take a bite.
"That the usual?"
"We're out of puffs," he said with a chomp.
"Or are you happy to see me?"
The loud chewing stopped and he looked around, mostly towards the living room.
"He's totally smashed and passed out," she said with a quick reassurance.
The subtle, lighthearted flirting over the last couple of years had started to cross a line this morning. No way he would stop this.
Without a doubt her presence in his life made high school a breeze. Senior year was done and gone. He loved her and their secret interactions interspersed through their busy days.
"That's a trick question." He finally spoke up.
She nodded with a sly smile. "You're not wrong."
He contemplated and took a bite. "Both but one more than the other. How was the fancy corporate party?"
A grin took over with another sip of black roast. "I accept your answer and topic change." She cupped the mug. "It was fun. Everyone was toast and your sister was nearby and turned into the designated driver. I was way, way too fucked up to drive."
"Oh, is she here?"
"No, no. She had the kids and new boyfriend. Just you and I."
"That's how I like it," he blurted out.
She leaned in on her elbows and arched out. "I know."
Getting lost in those baby blues was as natural as breathing. Those perfect, plump lips moved but he was entranced. What would it feel like to have those wrapped around him?
"Huh?"
She reached out and ruffled his hair. "I said, do you want to swap early gifts?"
God damn. Was he awake yet?
"We should." Took him forever to reply.
She beamed, pearly whites and all with a nod. "Yeah?"
The voice was nearly a whisper and lengthy fingernails slid into his beard. A light graze was all the boy needed and he leaned in to find out just how soft her lips were. Long, gentle moans pushed through him and in turn, shoved hard into the grain below. He wanted to grab it but wasn't sure how far this would go or how she would take it.
The cereal was slid away and he found the sides of her sweater puppies that dangled.
He had always wanted to get a hold of those and they felt so heavy in his palms. There wasn't a protest and she wanted in on the fun, but couldn't reach.
In a flash, she was around the counter top and had his face buried into the cotton, nestled between the all naturals. Digging into her deep wedgie, the heat from her inner thighs was a guide for his fingertips and he dipped them into the honey pot, a first for him.
"That's my boy," she whispered. Fingernails lined his scalp and she held him tight. "My stocking looks stuffed down there. Oh, yeah—definitely not a lump of coal."
She wasn't wrong. His briefs were taxed, wet and a straight line that nudged into the wood.
"What's in there?" She teased and caressed his neck. "Looks huge—I have to see it."
The hem was pulled towards the head, exposing his fatness. A sigh blew out of her and she had always known, but to watch him struggle to get it out just made her tingly. She hooked in and pulled until the fabric snapped, revealing a shiny, engorged purple top.
"I've been a naughty girl this year. Santa must have skipped over my list."
With haste, she jerked the sweater and draped warmth across his cheeks. His face was devoured in hot, jiggly flesh that was smashed between her arms. She took him by the back of both heads and tugged below, sending light groans into her sternum.
"Momma loves a big hard one on Christmas morning," she said casually.
It fed the beast and kept it amazingly rigid between her tight grip. A light squish added to his inability to hold it all back and she didn't stop, letting his arousal leak out as a hot lube.
"Hey, Cynthia!"
"Blow your loa—"
Blonde waves snapped around and they both froze, ripped from a euphoric haze. She let go and his smushed cheeks were released out of her cleavage.
"Yeah, honey?"
She scrambled to fix her clothing and kissed his forehead.
"I can't find my goddamn slacks!"
The resentment that poured out of her was visible. Her eyes were sharp and lingered off towards the back of the house. She helped rearrange his soaked underwear and fondled his heavy balls.
"Fuck, I was there," he said with a sigh.
An ear was pecked and teased with hot breaths.
"Don't worry. I'm going to drain you dry later on. Wait for me."
With a nod, she stomped away.
"Maybe if you had more than one mother fucking pa—"
That was all he heard before the bedroom door slammed and he was left with an intense ache and soggy cereal. It wouldn't be a balanced breakfast without those two getting into a fight.
*******
Talk about tension.
The whole family was crammed into their modest basement. Uncles and aunts from both sides of the country, annoying siblings and nieces and nephews.
I dont even know some of these people.
They couldn't take his mind off of what happened earlier. He had a slutty southern blond to deal with; a nuclear power in female form. He knew it was wrong, but that feeling was intoxicating.
She had plenty of opportunity to finish their sneaky encounter but she waited. He trusted her, but the frustration started to build.
Must be a man thing.
His father is cranky for a week and then the next day he's upbeat and full of life. Post-nut clarity is probably different after being with Cynthia; his hand doesn't smile back after he's finished.
There were plenty of gifts for him to unwrap and he was grateful, but across the way was this statuesque treasure that was promised to him.
Cynthia was always the best dressed in their family, but she was extra today. To see her in knitted white thigh highs was a treat, but it was her normal on Christmas.
The nickname 'Sinthia' floated around behind her back, but they were all jealous that his father had a goddess for a wife; not a trophy wife, either. She was in charge.
The men stared while the women gossiped. To see her cause that much disruption for being herself was amusing.
Of course, the decorated red sweater that just barely kept that juicy, corn fed delight hidden was also a staple but he couldn't pinpoint it until she leaned back to talk to Uncle Ryan. It all clicked: her rose gold combo.
Beneath those heavy blond layers were big, thin hoops she asked him about a week ago. Then, a pair of round specs she pestered him about over a month ago.
Draped in the middle of her braless chest was a diamond encrusted heart pendant with a long, skinny chain that she called him over the phone about. He just said yes to the question and forgot the conversation ever happened.
With a squint and a tilted head, he finally realized her two hour long stint to get ready for the day was for him. He had been too distracted by the impossible morning.
She had told him to calm down twice before the house was flooded with near strangers. Before that he tried to cop a feel in the kitchen where she playfully beat him away with a wooden spoon.
He couldn't hear what she told his father, but she was up amongst the chaos. He was beckoned with a finger as she stepped over toys and torn paper. They made it up the stairs and no one cared.
With a light grip on his hand, she led him up the second set of stairs where he found black lace nestled between those generous buns. He wanted to taste it so bad; the loads blown in his room to those cheeks were some of the best.
"Lock the door," she told him while headed to the bathroom.
He did as he was told. "What did you tell Dad?"
