I guess, first, I need to tell you something about my mother. Now, all I have to do is figure where to start.
So, let's see, my mom. Well, she's blond, no, not natural, good figure which probably mostly means big boobs, what would be considered a 'hot ticket' in a man's world. My mom was not shy around men. She was flirty and loved to party.
My father divorced her when I was three and he came home early. Do I need to explain? Thought not. I really don't see or hear from him much except for a birthday card once a year.
Her next husband, David, was a long-distance trucker, kind of rough around the edges kind of guy, loved C&W and lots of beer. He came home early, too. I was twelve at the time and was there in the house when he came in. It was not pleasant.
Then, three years ago, my mom married her third husband, Craig. I think he was the only one she didn't pick up in a bar. My mom actually bought a car from him, he worked for the local Ford dealer as a salesman.
Do I sound like I don't particularly like my mom very much? Well, let's just say I have a 'difficult' relationship with her. I've never thought that I was 'number one' on her priority list, that was the next party and the next guy. So, no, I really don't hold her as a prime example of how I want to live my life.
Now, me? I'm eighteen, will be in college next fall, plan to become a pharmacist since I'm good in science and math, I get good grades, always A's and a few B's. I've dated some, had one kind-of serious boyfriend this year, no one now, um, he got my top off a few times and played with my boobs. Oh, and sucked them, too. That was a real turn-on.
I also now have my driver's license and haven't crashed the car. No, I'm careful and, yes, I always wear my seatbelt. I don't make rash decisions like my mother, no, that's one of many differences between us.
I have long, auburn hair that I keep real glossy, my figure is nice, not as full as my mother's and that's just fine with me, my boobs more fit the kind of frame I have, if you have to know, I'm B-cup. She's two letters up on me and I like what I am just fine. They're really pretty if you ask me. Or if you ask Jason Cummings, my ex-boyfriend. He sure used to like them a lot. Oh, well.
So, now I had been living with my mom and stepdad, Craig, who, in my book, was miles ahead of any of the men she usually went for. Craig was nice. He treated me well and had gone to college for a couple of years, actually read books which, for the guys my mother usually hooked-up with, was quite the departure.
When report card time came around, it was Craig that asked how I did. I was a good student, another area where my mom and I differ; there are many. Anyway, you would have thought Craig was my real father the way he cared about me. He's more than any stepdaughter could reasonably expect.
My mom, on the other hand, finally broke the camel's back in pieces when, six months ago, she just left, disappeared, yes, with a guy, the note said. Rex. She left with Rex. Anyway, the note said for me to be good and that Craig loved me and would take good care of me, I was now eighteen, anyway. Now, you know my mom. No prize, huh?
Thank god, she bought that car from Craig. Where would I be without him? He let me stay, told me that he would always be my stepdad and began divorce proceedings against my mom. Who could blame him. She didn't contest it, no, that would be pretty hard to do, and within about sixty days, the divorce was granted.
Actually, our life, Craig and me, was really nice. He never, ever blamed me for any of this, really took care to not only tell me he cared but to show me as well. He went to teacher's meetings, to the school play I was in, every soccer game I was in, he was my dad. Really nice.
He did some dating, after all, he was a pretty young, and very nice-looking guy. He's thirty-six and has met a number of women being in the car business and has seen several women since my mom left, but none, seriously.
Sometimes, his dates would come back to our house and I could hear them during the night. Some, of course, even stayed overnight and one even told me that she would see that I moved out on my own when I became eighteen. If you wonder if I liked her, I didn't. Big surprise.
Me? Well, I wanted to stay with Craig. I had lots of friends here in school and really wanted to graduate with them. I also loved Craig. He was so nice to me, so good to me, that I wanted him to stay in my life. And, I must be honest here, yes, I was drawn to him in a non-daughter way. Yes, you guessed it. He was just so nice.
So, I made a decision. I was going to seduce him, a decision millions of women have made throughout history. But, this time, it was me making the decision.
I played soccer and I also ran a lot, so it's not unusual that I'd get sore, sometimes, very sore. So, asking Craig to massage my legs and back is not all that out of the ordinary. This time, though, I planned for it to be just a bit different.
After my shower, I came back out into the family room with a towel around me and asked him for a massage. He agreed and, as usual, followed me down the hall to my bedroom.
I flicked the towel off me onto the bed and got on it, facing down. I didn't dare look at him, I knew if I did, it would spoil everything. He knelt down next to the bed and started massaging my legs.
I always loved his hands kneading my muscles, he is strong yet uses that strength with a gentleness that is so relaxing. This time, though, being naked under his hands, there was a thrill to every touch. It felt wonderful and erotic at the same time.
His hands went from my calves to my thighs, then up onto my lower back where he spent a good amount of time, then onto my upper back and shoulders. It was heavenly. I would have dozed off if it weren't for the throb it was giving my pussy. I was turned-on.
Then, his hands traced back down my back and on to my buttocks where he had never massaged me before. That really made me warm and tingly, and you know exactly where.
His hands would slide between my thighs and I widened my legs a bit and he rubbed along my inner thighs, never getting too near where I was hoping his hands would go but then his hands shifted up to my back again.
I was pretty sure that he could see the lips of my pussy which, just the thought that he could, was really getting me wet. I'm glad the towel was under me.
This had gone on long enough that I was sure he was fully aware of the sexual nature of all this and that not only was I going along with it, he was as well.
I knew then that I could turn over which I did.
"Um, uh, Lori, uh..."
"I'm sore all over and it feels so good," and I closed my eyes as I brought his hand to place it on my stomach. I knew there was no way he couldn't be looking at my breasts and my pussy, my curly auburn pubic hair and the wetness that must have been evident.
I could hear his breathing which, hardly surprising, had become faster and deeper, especially after I turned over. His hands stayed on my tummy, Craig was a gentleman, for sure, and I began to softly moan, "Mmm, mmm, nice."
