I have a hot stepmother. Not a silicone busted, thong-wearing, model-hot stepmother, but a good-looking, friendly and nice woman with a decent body who has always been great to me since she came into our family when I was 15. Better than I deserved, probably. Better than my father deserved, too, but as Marsha put it: "When my husband died he left me with big debts, little cash and a lot of anger. I wasn't exactly a bargain."
Marsha and I grew close, partly because my father spent a lot of time on the road for his company, and partly because she was ten years younger than him. She was good company. She also liked to hug and be close, something my father complained "smothered" him. His loss. Many a night when my father was out of town we'd end up snuggling on the sofa with popcorn and a movie. There was a definite chemistry, a little tickling and a lot of flirting. She even said if SHE were ten years younger...
It may have been innocent to Marsha, but it wasn't so innocent to me. She went braless when she wanted to be comfortable and I enjoyed seeing her breasts bounce beneath her sweatshirt. She had a nice round ass that I worshipped, too. She must have felt me get hard when we spooned on the couch while watching a movie, but she never pulled away. Well...almost never. I discovered early on that if I pushed against her ass too obviously she'd get up for a bathroom break or a soda, a subtle way of setting boundaries without reprimanding me.
Knowing I couldn't simply push my dick against Marsha's ass, I started doing different things to satisfy my boyish sexual preoccupation during the movies: blowing on her ear, fingertip massage of her neck, tickling her ribs, tickling behind her knees, etc. With all the laughter and giggling and hysterics I ended up holding on tightly to a woman who was squirming and wiggling. That's about as close as you can come to sex without actually having sex. Of course I had sex with myself in bed afterwards.
Fast forward a couple years. I entered a local college and joined a fraternity my second year. Every now and then a brother would stop over at the house or even spend the night if we'd been out partying. That's how Marsha met Heath, an Australian fraternity brother over here on a swimming scholarship. He pronounced his name more like Hay-ith and said it slow and kind of harsh. It didn't matter. He had a great body, great eyes and my mother was totally smitten. Gaa-gaa. I was jealous, but what could I do? It was a harmless crush, anyway. Except I got annoyed when she would ask me during every phone call how he was or when he was coming by. Heath thought she was pretty nice, too, which didn't help things. I started mocking Heath by imitating his accent and saying stupid things in his accent while driving in my car or when alone. Truth was, he wasn't that bright. He wasn't a bad guy, though, I was just jealous
Dad and Marsha's marriage started going downhill around this time. Marsha said some things and I picked up on other things. They stayed together, though. I'm sorry to say I sided more with Marsha, but I did understand my Dad's side when it came to her overspending on clothes and such. The shopping gene, I guess.
In the winter of "99 our fraternity rented a fifteen room lodge at Mammoth Mountain in California for a 5 day holiday. Marsha was all excited when I told her about it because she thought that the timing was great for a visit to her friend in Lake Tahoe, which wasn't too far away. We'd drive up together and she would continue on to Lake Tahoe and come back and pick me up afterwards. I would miss out on some fraternal camaraderie by not driving with Brothers, but there would be opportunity to make up for it at the lodge.
Everything was set, and then it all came undone. We saw 9 inches of snow before we got to Mammoth. The Highway Patrol made us buy and put on tire chains and we were hours late arriving. No way could Marsha continue driving on, so she had to spend the night with me. Still, it was an adventure and kind of fun, and we were drinking hot rum in front of a fire by 8pm. Marsha was in great spirits, helped by being away from home, the rum and seeing "Hay-ith". The two of them were almost embarrassing, flirting, going outside to see the snow, going outside to bring in wood (there was plenty already) and carrying on. I went looking for them at one point and found Heath and Marsha making out furiously. It was like a blow to the stomach, but there was nothing I could do about it.
Marsha would have ended up in Heath's room for sure, but Heath's girlfriend's best friend (and sorority sister) Jenny arrived. Once he heard her unmistakable laugh upstairs he knew the game with Marsha was over. Any transgressions would be reported. Heath made some excuse to Marsha and rejoined the group in front of the fire.
Marsha tried to hide the blow to her ego with an extra drink or two. There were other guys to share some laughs with, and me, but by 11 she was slurring her words and starting to nod off. Between the blizzard and the drive it had been a long day. I helped Marsha upstairs and took off her boots at her request. She made it into the bathroom on her own. A few minutes later she emerged in a knee-length flannel nightgown and pulled back the covers, claiming the near side of the bed
"My side!"
With a great sigh she plopped face down on the bed.
I said I was going back down, then for no apparent reason, said I'd send Heath to tuck her in. It was a total lie. I was just trying to be funny.
"In my dreams" Marsha murmured.
I laughed and let myself out, turning out the light. I hadn't gone three steps when an evil thought occurred to me: What if I went back in a few minutes and used my fake Aussie voice, pretending to be Heath?
My heart stopped. My breathing stopped. Wow! The lights were out...Marsha was drunk...Hmmm. Could I pull something off? I didn't have the same body, but could I fake it? Did I have the balls? What might be the consequences? Would Marsha ever speak to me again if she found out?
The moment was electric. I went over all my Aussie phrases and what I might say. I thought of right and wrong, then took a deep breath and turned around. It was worth I try.
I knocked lightly and let myself in, never turning on the light.
"Marsha" I said in my best Aussie accent. "I'm back to tuck you in, luv."
Marsha raised her head and mumbled something incoherently about Kevin.
"Kevin's downstairs watching bush telly with some girl. He's going to rage on for hours. " I said. "Forget about him. Now you...you never left word about the massage, dear. This lodge offers a free massage to all guests before we tuck you in for the night. Just relax and let me do all the work...There, doesn't that feel marvelous on the shoulders?"
"Heath, you bastard...you.....ahhhh....that feels wonderful. I wouldn't let anyone else...ummmmm Heath........yesss.....ummmmmm....ohhh, never mind."
I continued my fake Aussie-accented babbling while massaging Marsha's back through her nightgown.
"Yeaaahh, you're still tight in the center of your back. Must be that blizzard you drove through. Great back, though."
Marsha continued moaning as I worked my way down her back. When I got to her butt she tried to stop me, although my hands never stopped working.
"Heath. What are you doing? Heath?" Marsha was tipsy, but still awake.
"Relax, Marsha. This is where it gets good."
I moved my hands in opposite circles on Marsha's ass cheeks, something I'd seen in a pseudo-porno video on cable once. It seemed almost legitimate, plus it raised the hem of Marsha's nightgown to the bottom of her ass. I varied the speed a little, which gave me the opportunity to raise the hem a little higher, exposing a curve of panty covered ass. When I moved my hands to the sides of her ass, I "accidentally" let my fingers catch the gown and pull it up over Marsha's ass. Marsha realized this after a couple seconds and tried to pull it down. She only half-succeeded.
"Heath...Heath!.."
Marsha gave a shiver at this point, either because of a draft or what I was doing to her. My hands were already giving her ass a vigorous massage. I had started on top of her panties, but was bunching them up as I worked and twisting the flat of my hand in such a way as to maximize contact with her soft ass cheeks. Marsha made an "umph" sound and pushed her ass into the bed when my thumbs raked down the crack of her butt. I squeezed her ass and kneaded the soft flesh I had always dreamed of, pulling her anus very, very gently. She gave a muffled scream at that, then one hand flailed at me for a second and stopped.
Thinking I may have pushed things too far, I began some "long strokes", as they were described in a massage book I browsed through while nursing a 90-minute-coffee one Friday night at a bookstore. The strokes started above the knee and went up across the thigh and ended in the small of the back. Of course they crossed the ass, but they had the effect of lessening the sexual tension for a minute. Both hands up, both hands down. Both hands up, both hands down. Repeat. Repeat. Just when Marsha relaxed a little I grabbed the band of her panties on either side of her waist on the downstroke and pulled. The panties came off to below her ass. I continued my strokes as if nothing had happened. Marsha did notice, though, and protested through slightly slurred and murmured words.
"Heath, my panties!...you......devil...you can't....."
"Just getting warmed up, here, luv. We can't have any Yank sheilas saying that the Aussie swimmer was anything less than a deadest bonzer, now, can we?
I held my breath, thinking that I was about to be discovered, and used the moment for a few caresses of Marsha's soft inner thigh. Might as well get what I can before I'm caught, I reasoned. But Marsha laughed. And when she stopped laughing she started giggling. I used the moment to take her panties all the way off. She actually lifted her body a little to help. The tone of her giggles changed when I spread her legs a little and began stroking my fingers up and down her thighs. Her skin fluttered once or twice involuntarily as my fingernails or fingertips passed over, but the giggles continued. I was quickly approaching the point of no return.
Marsha stopped giggling when my fingertips found her labia. I teased around them for a moment, feeling the outline, then licked the tip of my index finger and inserted it a half-inch. Marsha stiffened and let out a short "Ahh!" I wiggled my finger slightly and pushed it farther in, feeling warm, wet pussy.
"Ohhhhhhhhhh" Marsha trembled slightly, then pushed back against my finger. I think my jaw dropped in shock. We had lain together and snuggled many a night on the couch, but this was a whole new level of intimacy.
I pulled my finger out and put it in my mouth, partly to re-wet it, but mostly to taste my stepmother. She had that typical slightly salty, pussy taste that can't be described in words. At least not by me. I quickly re-inserted my finger and plunged it farther in, twisting and turning it. My idle middle finger teased around her clit. Marsha jerked and moaned in pleasure.
