Luckiest Guy I Know Ch. 02

byMaryAnderson©

Luckiest Guy I Know Ch. 02 – With the help of my girlfriend, I score my step-mom.

Thank you for your interest in the first chapter of this story. I do not have any present plans for additional chapter(s), but am always open to returning to it. Your thoughts or suggestions are welcome; it is hard to underestimate how valuable your comments can be.

I am working on several stories at this time, none near complete.

As always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * * *

During the summer I worked at the coffee shop and Viki, who shared a small off-campus apartment with three girls, became a regular presence at our house. I'd return from work to find her and Mom by the pool, cooking, or changing after a pilates or steps class. And when Mom headed for the shop, Viki and I headed for my bedroom. The only problem was keeping a ready supply of clean sheets, for Mom and I had adopted an unspoken protocol: she pretended not to know Viki and I were sleeping together at the house and I did my best to hide it from her.

The only cloud in my world was my upcoming trip to Dad's. As part of the divorce settlement I spent time with Dad each summer and although, consumed by his job and often on the road, he'd never shown much interest in me when I was there, it was his right to see me and dad-gum-it, he wanted his rights.

And so Mom was at the shop and I in bed with Viki bemoaning the time I'd be with Dad for the who knows how many time when she said, "I've been thinking about that. I know how to make your trip more interesting and a lot more fun. Seduce Sandy."

"What?"

"Y'know, Sandy, your step-mother."

"Yes, I know Sandy, are you nuts?"

"Don't you think she's pretty?"

"Yeah, I mean yeah, but I date you and she's my stepmother."

"It's sweet of you to be faithful, but it's not cheating if I say its okay and I think you should. Sandy and I spent that time together when your Dad was here for graduation, got along great, now we're always texting. She's like your mom, lonely and unappreciated in her marriage and while she comes across as sweet and innocent, there's a tigress in there."

"Viki!"

"Hear me out. As to the stepmother part, what could be better? Your Dad fucked around on your Mom, now you do his wife."

I said she was crazy, wondered whether this was some bizarre test of my fidelity, but Viki kept bringing it up and I eventually became convinced she meant it, but still said, "No," until one day, in frustration with her refusal to accept my "No's," I said, "How?"

"Glad you asked. I have a plan."

She outlined it for me. I told her she was nuts all over again. She said she'd handle phase one, I could decide whether to move on from there.

* * * * *

Distracted and angry, Sandy turned on the computer in the home office. Even though her husband was out of town and neither father nor son had any real interest in seeing each other, he'd insisted on Gabriel's visit. She was already teaching a summer school course at her high school, she barely knew the kid, what would she do with him?

Something else was bothering her. Sandy had found in Viki a sensitive and discerning ear and in their e-mails and texts had become increasingly forthright about her frustrations with her marriage, something she preferred her step-son not know. Had Viki told Gabriel about any of it, or about the afternoon of his graduation. God, the women had been magnificent; Sandy understood Gabriel's reluctance to leave her. No, Viki was a free spirit, but she was smart and discreet, Sandy trusted her judgment.

Turning her focus back to the computer Sandy made sure the flight was on-time, then

checked for messages from her students. There was only one. She opened it, read it, gasped:

"My mother did business with your husband, saw the picture of my favorite teacher in his office, mentioned it to me. I asked her to describe him. Then I understood. The first time I sat before you, you were vivacious, energetic, optimistic, dynamic, eager, positive, happy, full of life. And you've never disappointed, every day in every class you've been wonderful. Your energy's contagious, you spread it throughout the room, invest it in each of us.

"But I've also watched you in your unguarded moments, sitting by yourself at the end of the day, walking to and from your car. That's where I saw the change. At first the vitality you showed in class was omnipresent, but recently, in those unguarded moments, I've watched the joy drain from your face. The word is you married well, but I wondered, were you happy?

"The man my mother described was so unlike you. You exude life and energy, he is by the numbers, by the book, life taking second place to figures and columns. There is nothing wrong with his life, his way of being, but it must be hard on you. You are supple and flexible, he rigid and unbending. He'll never change and it must wear on you; not to celebrate the wonderful and unexpected the world can bring, not to treasure the joy our minds and bodies can bring. Instead to be with someone whose concern is not what it is, but what it costs, who measures success not by who he helped, but by who he hurt.

"I will be the one free you. For reasons you won't discern you'll know, and you'll prepare yourself, wear a short dress and heels that show off your delicate curves and killer legs, let me hold your body against mine.

"You'll know it's forbidden, but that will only make it hotter, make you crave it more. How long has it been since you embraced the forbidden, since you celebrated the uninhibited joy of your body? Together we'll demolish the walls of your silent prison and, best of all, he'll never have the imagination to suspect we're lovers.

"So you'll say yes, not at first in words, but by pressing your breasts, filled with blood, nipples hard, to my body. My hand will slip under your dress, cover your panties. My mouth will be on yours; you'll welcome my tongue.

"Your sex is wet and itchy, your nipples ache; I slide a finger inside you, my thumb covers your clit. You'll remember how you love a man's body, love a hard dick spreading the soft lips of your sex, spearing inside you; love the way sex smells, sounds, tastes, love a man focused on your pleasure and you on his.

"You rock your hips on my hand, moan, bend over your desk, thrust your hips into me as I enter you. You're seeing all this in your mind's eye, right now aren't you? Your sex is on fire; you know it will come true.

"You need to be fucked. Your hot pussy needs hard cock. You're husband won't do it, can't do it. I'll be the one. I'll fuck you silly, fuck you til the sun comes up, fuck you the way you need to be fucked. And when I do you'll know why it had to be me."

* * * * *

I was horrified when Viki showed me the e-mail, made her explain why it couldn't be traced back to her, made her explain it again, but finally, rationalizing that I couldn't stop her, assented to her sending it.

Then Viki suggested a new role play. I'd be me, she'd be Sandy, and I'd seduce her. It was fricking amazing, each and every time.

* * * * *

Sandy checked the message, no name, no return address. Who sent it? She pictured her students, one-by-one: who had she taught two years ago, who had parents who might know her husband? She started to forward the e-mail to the principal, stopped. Whoever sent it had sensed her inner feelings, things she kept hidden. Did she want the principal to know any of this? Would the e-mail become public? What would her husband think? She turned off her computer, she needed to think this through.

Driving to the airport, replaying the e-mail in her mind, Sandy was imagining wearing a short dress, a hand running down her body, across her thighs, a dick, hard and hungry, pressed to her. She'd turn her face to her lover, flatten her breasts on his chest, his mouth would cover hers, she'd welcome his tongue.

At a stop light Sandy, pussy spasming, rolled a hard nipple between thumb and index finger, ground her sex on her fist. She told herself to calm down, this was no time to be playing with herself.

She arrived at the cell phone lot early – traffic had been light – parked in the back, brought herself off, then, lingering in post-orgasmic bliss, wondered again, who sent the e-mail? He said he was safe. What student could be safe? Her phone pinged; it was Gabriel; she turned on the ignition.

* * * * *

I texted Sandy, then Viki and Mom to let them know I was okay, then wondered, had Sandy seen Viki's message? If so was she angry, fearful, or was Viki right, was she aroused? My phone pinged. Viki was asking me call her as soon as Sandy checked her computer.

Sandy pulled up, got out of the car, greeted me with a hug. Her eyes were dilated and her skin, normally a light pink, flush. I got in; the car smelled of sex. I looked at Sandy. I'd always thought her more pretty than sexy, but now, as I pictured her fingering herself at a sop light, I saw a sexy wanton edge.

* * * * *

Sandy showed me the guest bedroom, then said, "If you'll excuse me, I need to check for messages on my computer, for school."

"Okay, I'm going to call Viki."

Sandy's face perked up.

"I really liked her. We had the best time while you and your Dad were at that father-son thing. We've kept in touch."

"She told me. And yeah, she's a force of nature, but I'm holding on as best I can. She said the same about you, said she had a great time, asked me to...," what was a synonym for seduce you, "say hello."

* * * * *

"Hey babe."

"Hey, how long?"

"How long what?"

"How long after you guys got back did she check her computer."

"Right after she showed me my room, maybe three minutes."

"Excellent. Is she looking at the e-mail?"

"I don't know."

"Well, go look."

"I can't do that."

"Yes you can."

It wasn't much of an argument, but I had no retort, and glancing through an office door helpfully left ajar I saw Sandy read Viki's message, wet her hips, absent-mindedly touch her breast, read it again. I returned to the kitchen and called Viki.

"You were right, she's reading your e-mail."

"Good, tomorrow, while she's at school, check her computer, let me know how many times she's viewed it, whether she forwarded it to anyone."

"Viki, I can't look on her computer, it's private."

Viki laughed. "First of all, it's my message, not hers, if it's private, it's private for me and you have my permission. And honey, be serious, soon you'll be between her sheets, between her legs. Privacy is not an issue here."

I said, "Viki, I am..."

"Hey Gabriel. Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you were on the phone."

Viki said, "Is that Sandy?"

"Yes."

"Good, please give her the phone, I'd like to talk to her."

I handed Sandy the phone, who, talking animatedly to Viki, wandered off.

* * * * *

The next morning, Sandy at school, I was sitting before Sandy's computer – I found the password was in the top desk drawer – and phone tucked under my chin, said, "Okay Viki, I'm in. She opened the message ten minutes after you sent it, it must have been right before she left for the airport, then four times last night, three times this morning."

"Did she forward it to anyone?"

I checked. "No."

"Excellent, now she can't, she'd have to explain why it took her so long. Is our girl's libido on the war path?"

"Best I can tell, yeah. I'm pretty sure she masturbated on the way to the airport yesterday and I heard her last night. She also dawdled in the shower this morning."

"Most excellent. Time to put our plan into place."

"Viki, we don't have a plan, you have a plan. I haven't said I would, even if I could."

"You'll come around. Think about it: you'll get to show off all the things I've taught you to a wonderful new lover. It will turn me on; when you get back I'll be on fire. I know, I'm always on fire, but we're talking five-alarm-stuff. And that's not the best part. The best part is that it's your Dad's wife, it's the ultimate revenge for his screwing around on your mother. What do you know about jazz?"

Bewildered by the sudden turn in our conversation, I said, "Not much."

"In the living room you'll find a bunch of jazz records, original vinyl, classic stuff. Sandy collected them, but your Dad, as Sandy described it, gets passive-aggressive when she talks about it or plays it, calls it jungle music, so she's pretty much stopped.

"Find the records, play them. When she comes home be interested. I didn't say act interested, I said be interested. I'm like you, I don't know much about jazz, but when she talks about it she gets absolutely transported. It's a vital music you and I know nothing about. I know you, you've got enough intellectual curiosity to get interested."

"And this will help me seduce her?"

"Of course, and what else do you have planned?"

Good question. I was in a low-key suburb where I knew no one, ostensibly visiting my father, who wasn't there.

"Nothing."

"Good, let me know how it goes."

* * * * *

When Sandy got home Louis Armstrong was playing on the stereo and I was chopping the ingredients for shrimp etouffee in the kitchen.

"Hey Gabe, whatcha doing?"

"I hope you don't mind. I saw these records in the living room, put some on. When I found the Louis Armstrong records I thought about New Orleans, which made me think about this shrimp etouffee Mom taught me to make. I ran down to the store for the fixings, figured I'd cook us dinner. You game?"

"You're sweet, I didn't know you liked jazz."

"I don't know if I do either. I'm not really familiar with it, although I recognized some of the names."

Looking wistful, Sandy said, "I love it, don't play it much anymore, but when I do I'm always reminded why. I'll put my things in my office, then give you a hand."

And, after enough time to read Viki's e-mail several times, she did.

* * * * *

Sandy and I fixed dinner, discussed her, her day. Viki was right, as I focused the conversation on Sandy, a rare event in her Dad-centric world, she blossomed. We ate dinner in the living room as she played record after record and, as Viki predicted, I was captivated by the music and her enthusiasm for it. It was close to 11:00 before, noting the time, she said, "Oh, sorry, it's getting late."

We packed up the records, then she went to her office, re-read Viki's e-mail, and wondered again, who sent it.

* * * * *

I came downstairs to the smell of coffee and Sandy wearing a floral dress and a bright smile. I kissed her cheek. She smelled good.

"Good morning Gabe. I made coffee, help yourself. I wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed dinner and our conversation last night."

"Thanks, I had a great time. If it's okay, I'd like to play some of the albums you talked about."

"Of course, music is meant to be heard and shared. I'd love to know what you think."

Her phone rang.

"It's your father. I'll take it in the car."

Sandy hadn't driven two miles when my phone rang.

"Hey son, my stay here has been extended. I just talked to Sandy; she's not happy. Do me a favor, take her to dinner tonight, on me, her favorite place is the Versailles House."

* * * * *

I found the Versailles House on-line: expensive, formal, heavy food encased in heavy sauces. I looked at the reviews, obsequious service, food palatable if over-priced. This did not look like Sandy's favorite place.

I called Viki, filled her in. Making no effort to disguise her glee she said, "Excellent, your Dad, thoughtful man that he is, has provided us the perfect opportunity. We must make sure to thank him. Sandy once texted me about a soul food place. What was the name, let me check, what was the name, what was the name, found it, the Praline Connection."

"Spell Praline."

"P-R-A-L-I-N-E."

I googled the name. "Got it."

"Okay Gabe, make reservations for tonight. Hot music, spicy food, steamy dancing, by the time you get home she'll be putty in your hands."

"Viki, are you sure you're okay with this? You're asking me to cheat on you."

"Like I said, it's not cheating if I say it's okay and I say it's okay. And I promise, when you get back the sex here will be hotter and crazier than ever."

I was a teen-aged boy; there could be no argument more convincing.

* * * * *

I sent Sandy a text: "Is Versailles House really your favorite restaurant?"

"LOL, no it's your Dad's. Place is stuffy as heck. Why do you ask? Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah, he told me he's delayed again and you're pissed. He wants me to take you to the Versailles House to mollify you. I looked it up, it didn't seem like you. You know a place called the Praline Connection?"

"Yeah, I haven't been there since I married your father, love it."

"Well honey, got a date tonight, cause if not I'm looking for one."

"My dance card is wide open."

"Great, we'll get dressed up, make it a special evening."

* * * * *

Wearing the one nice set of clothes I'd brought, the ones Viki has selected, the ones she insisted I pack, I watched Sandy come down the stairs dressed in the manner described in Viki's e-mail, dress not skin-tight, but tight enough to show off her curves and short enough to show off her legs, heels high but suitable for dancing, earrings long and dangling, hair in a ponytail. She was ready for a good time.

"Damn, showing off the gams."

"You don't think it's too short and I haven't heard 'gams' in years."

"That's a heck no and I've read Raymond Chandler."

"I love Raymond Chandler."

Viki had suggested him, I'd read him on the plane. I don't think it was a coincidence. By the way, I recommend him, great stuff.

* * * * *

The Praline Connection was everything advertised. Food good, music hot, and Sandy and I danced. After the past months with Viki I'd gotten pretty good at it and, as we did, I understood what Viki saw in Sandy. She was pretty and blonde and cute and sweet, you couldn't miss that, but now I was seeing an underlying sexiness, not Viki's can't-miss-it sexiness, but something more subtle, sexier because it was hidden, sexier because it was blossoming before me.

* * * * *

Later, her hand in mine, I walked Sandy to the car. My phone rang, but I ignored it, instead I held her door open, helped her in, then walked around the car, got behind the wheel, and checked my phone.

"That was Dad. Do you want to talk to him?"

"Heck no, he'll just bring me down."

Sandy pulled the tie from her pony tail, shook her head, letting her hair down, and lowered the visor to re-do her lipstick while I put the key in the ignition, preparing to back up, when my phone pinged. It was a text from Dad: "Gabriel call, it's important."

I showed it to Sandy who smacked her lips together and said, "I guess you better."

I said, "Maybe we'll get lucky, maybe he's delayed again."

She said, "You're a bad boy."

I said, "We'll see."

"Hey Dad."

"You alone."

"Yeah, getting ready to drive to the store, Sandy asked me to pick something up."

"This late, that's nice of you son. How did it go tonight?"

"You mean with Sandy?"

An impatient, "Yes."

"Versailles House was booked, so I took her to the Praline Connection."

"Never heard of it. Did you mention my name to the Versailles?"

"No."

"Next time do so, they'll find a place, they love me."

I said, "Will do."

"How is she?"

Looking at Sandy I said, "I did my best to charm her into forgiving you."

She shook her head in the negative, extended her lower lip in a pout.

"But I'm not sure I made much progress."

"You need to keep trying, I'm going to be out here another couple of days."

There were voices in the background, Dad, only paying half-attention to me, spoke to someone.

Naughty grin on my face I hit the speaker button, looked at Sandy, and said, "Really Dad, delayed another couple of days. I'll do the best I can with Sandy, but I don't know how she's going to react. Can I do whatever it takes to make her happy, anything at all?"

Sandy mouthed the words, "You are a bad boy," then suppressed a laugh when Dad said, "Of course son, whatever it takes."

"And how about Sandy, can she do whatever she wants, whatever it takes to make her happy."

Dad, now slightly annoyed – he was too important for such frivolity – said, "Yes son, Sandy can do whatever she wants. Now if there is nothing else, I'm busy."

* * * * *

At home I put on Miles Davis' Kind of Blue. I'd found it on-line described as the sexiest jazz record ever made and as I held Sandy close, as we danced, I agreed with the critic who said Davis' horn sounded like it was in heat. When it ended she excused herself, said she had to go to the bathroom, check messages. I watched her swaying ass as she left, saw an extra-roll there.

In her office Sandy thought about the evening, the food, the music, the dancing, read, then re-read the e-mail. It was forbidden, illicit, wrong, its very naughtiness stirring the pot boiling between her legs. She touched a breast, inhaled, wondered, who sent it, how did he understood her life and frustrations, how, when, would he set her free?

I knocked on the door. She dimmed the screen on the computer, said, "Come in," turned to face me. I saw arousal written on her face: eyes smoky, skin flushed, breathing deep and long.

"I wanted to thank you Sandy, tonight was wonderful."

She wet her lips, pushed her hair behind her ear, stepped towards me, and, hand on my shoulder, said, "I should thank you, I can't recall a better time."

I said, "I'm glad you enjoyed," bent down, kissed her mouth, felt her lips move on mine, then ended the kiss and said, "I hope you've enjoyed the e-mail."

She said, "You, you sent the e-mail?"

I said, "Viki and I sent it. She thinks you need some attention, believes I'm the one to give it to you. At first I thought she was crazy, but after these last few days, well I shouldn't have doubted."

She continued to look at me, but her mind turned inward. I didn't know it of course, but she'd returned to the afternoon of my graduation when, while Dad and I were at the high school, she and Viki went back to the hotel. Sex had never been so good, so uninhibited. She imagined Viki and I, happy bodies sweaty and intertwined, sucking in air after a long lazy afternoon fuck. If I kept Viki happy...

She turned to the computer, opened the e-mail, re-read it. Epiphany on her face, she realized that only Viki could have written it, that only Viki had this kind of insight into her. She should have seen it immediately.

She turned back to me and said, "Gabriel, you know I have a lot more to lose than you."

It wasn't really a question, she wanted reassurance. Staring into her clear blue eyes I said, "No one will know. I won't tell and no one will question my presence here. As to Dad, his ego is too bloated to entertain the notion of you and I and his imagination too limited to envision a desire, a need so strong that one would break all the rules for it. And, in any case, we have his permission, he said no limits."

As she smiled at the memory of the phone call, I took her in my arms. We danced a few slow steps and recalling the e-mail I said, "Tonight was uninhibited, fun, sexy. On the dance floor I felt your energy, you were vivacious, dynamic, eager, celebrating the food, the music."

She pressed her body to mine, my erection on her hip. I ran a hand down her torso and said, "I imagine you in a dress that shows off your delicate curves, killer legs. My hands caress you and you feel me, hard and needy, against you," then turned so we faced the computer and tapped enter.

The e-mail appeared. I said, "Read it to me."

Paraphrasing, using the first person,, her tone soft and intimate, Sandy said, "We both know it's forbidden, but how long since I've embraced the forbidden? How long since I've celebrated the unalloyed joy my body can bring me?"

She turned to face me, stretched her body into mine, moved her mouth to my ear and in a sultry whisper said, "My nipples are hard, begging to be touched, my sex is wet and itchy. I imagine you sliding your fingers inside me."

I moved my hand down her body, between her legs, thrummed her clit with my thumb, pushed a finger into her hot wet depths. Sandy closed her eyes, rocked her hips on my hand, and breathed more than said, "So good, so good, forgive me god, forgive me, I need this," pulled down my zipper, reached inside, and said, "I imagine your cock spearing inside me, taking possession of my body, my soul."

Recalling the e-mail – I was supposed to fuck her on her desk – I pried off my shoes, kicked off my pants, pulled her panties down, leaned her over the desk, and said, "Let's break some rules."

We did.

* * * * *

We woke up in her (and my father's) bed, made love, put on robes, went downstairs, were fixing coffee when her phone rang. She looked at the screen, giggled, "It's your father. Should I answer?"

Standing behind her I wrapped my arms around her waist, kissed her neck, and said, "Absolutely."

"Hello dear."

I nibbled on an ear lobe.

"Really, delayed again, that's a shame. That will only give you parts of two days with him."

More listening, a shudder when I nipped her shoulder.

"No, no problem. We're getting along fine. We'll find something to do. And if it gets hard, we'll find a way to soften it up."

I undid the belt of her robe.

"Oh, you want to speak to him, he's right here."

She shrugged off her robe, turned, handed me the phone.

"Hey Dad."

"I'm sorry son, we're having trouble getting this deal done. I should get back the day before your leave, I'll take you to dinner at the Versailles House, you'll love it. You and Sandy doing okay?"

Sandy's lips were on mine, her tongue inside my mouth.

"Son are you there?"

She ended our kiss with a smirk and I said, "Yeah, I'm here. It sounds like you have a lot on your plate. As to Sandy and I, we're getting along like a Twinkie and cream,"

While Dad, confused by my reference, paused, Sandy opened my robe, kissed my neck, my nipples, knelt and, holding my dick in front of her face, licked its length.

Dad said, "Can you put Sandy back on?"

I looked down. She shook her head no, took my dick in her mouth.

"You'll need to give her a second Dad, she's swallowing a breakfast burrito."

Dad started talking, something about..., I have no fucking clue. Then he stopped. I was supposed to say something.

"Sure Dad."

He was quiet, that wasn't the right answer.

Sandy, seeing my predicament, pulled off my dick, took the phone from me, put it on speaker, and said, "Yes honey, what's up?"

"I kept forgetting to tell you, the firm's having a charity auction. I could give a shit, but it'll look bad if I don't donate something and there's bunch of crap in the house I don't use anymore. I scribbled it down while last night's speaker droned. It's illegible, so I'll have to read it to you."

Sandy pushed the robe off my shoulders and said, "That sound's fine dear, but first I've got to stir something, taste test it, then get pen and paper. Here, talk to your son."

She handed me the phone, knelt, took my cock in her mouth, rotated her head on it, licked it, gave me a thumb's up – I'd passed the taste test – and headed for her office.

Dad said, "It sounds like you two are doing okay."

Looking at my dick, hard and throbbing, I said, "I guess I'm growing on her."

He paused, trying to conjure up small talk, then said, "I can't recall Sandy cooking burritos for breakfast. Are they good?"

"Yeah, excellent, and Sandy can't seem to get enough. She keeps eating mine, but I'm happy to share."

"That's good of you. Would you help her pack the stuff for the sale, some of it's large and bulky."

I said, "I'll make sure to put everything, especially the big bulky stuff, exactly where it's supposed to go. If we have any trouble, I'll push hard, make sure it fits," while Sandy, returning with pen and paper, suppressed a laugh and motioned for me to sit. I did and she stretched and rotated her jaw, knelt, lowered her mouth over my dick, moved down until my cock reached her throat, and then, trying to make this big bulky thing fit, pushed.

There was a moment's resistance, then I suddenly jabbed into her throat. Sandy gagged and coughed, pulled her head off my dick.

Dad said, "Was that Sandy, is she okay?"

She signaled for the phone. I handed it to her and she said, "I'm fine dear, a big hunk of burrito went down the windpipe. Don't worry, I'm gonna practice eating it some more."

Dad was quiet, just a beat, trying to make sense of his wife's comment, then said, "You do that dear, practice makes perfect. Ready for the list?"

"Yes honey, but I'm going to put you on speaker, that way Gabriel and I can both write it down. In case there's any confusion, we'll compare notes."

Dad said, "Good idea," Sandy handed me the phone, I laid it on the table and, after activating the record function, did the same with mine. Sandy, hands on my hips, took me in her mouth and Dad started rattling away. I said, "A little slower Dad, I want to make sure Sandy gets it all down."

As Dad slowed down, Sandy sped up, bobbing her head on my cock, flicking her tongue on the shaft. When she moaned I'd say, "Hmmmm," to cover up the noise, but the more Sandy sucked the louder she got until Dad finally said, "What was that?"

Looking up, Sandy shrugged her shoulders and I said, "That was Sandy, she's got a mouth full of burrito, she loves it, go ahead with your list, Sandy's ready to go full bore."

That she was. Taking several breaths through her nose, Sandy checked the alignment of her head, built up a mouthful of slick thick salvia, applied gradual pressure, and my cock-head slid into her throat. I stroked the back of her neck and Sandy, after taking a second to adjust to having a cock in her throat, hummed and swallowed, giving birth to an unworldly combination of vibration and suction. Her tongue grew more active, tasted and licked. Soon she was bobbing her head, my dick sliding in and out of her throat.

Dad, continuing with his list, said, "You getting this all down?"

I said, "Yes, Sandy's getting it all down," and hit the mute button on the phone.

* * * * *

As she deep-throated her step-son Sandy knew the impossible was real. She'd glimpsed this possibility during her afternoon with Viki, but then the good-little-girl straight-jacket had only been laid aside, now it was in the incinerator. She would give her husband what he cared about, the appearance of conventional domesticity and, when he deigned to be home, the creature comforts he thought his due. In public she would be the adoring young wife, a symbol of his success. That was, after all, what he wanted from their marriage. At the same time she'd reclaim her soul - something her husband had no interest in anyway. During that afternoon with Viki she'd stuck her head through the window, saw what the world offered. Now she'd crawled out the window and was standing in the sun. She'd never go back in.

* * * * *

Sandy picked up the pace. Her cheeks fluttered, her tongue slathered and slithered, her throat, soft and tight at the same time, vibrated on my dick. I entwined my fingers in her hair, thrust my dick into her face, felt the pressure build and build until my balls burst loose and shouting, "Oh fuck I'm coming," sprayed load after load of hot sticky cum directly into her stomach.

Sandy stood, ran her tongue on her slightly swollen lips, picked up the phone, undid the mute function, and said, "Yes dear, we're fine, we were just comparing lists."

Dad said, "Are you sure you got everything down?"

Sandy, frigging my rapidly re-hardening dick, straddled me, dragged my dick across the face of her sex, and, as my cock split her pussy lips and slipped inside her, said, "I'm getting it all dear, every inch, it's an impressive list."

Dad said, "Good, I'll look like I care. Why don't you read the list back so I can make sure it's right,"

Sandy brought my head to her breast, arched her back, pressed it to my face. I sucked most it into my mouth, rolled the nipple between my lips, and Sandy said, "Honey, I just started feeding Gabriel some ripe melon, y'know how guys like a sweet firm melon, and want to keep working on the breakfast burrito. It's amazing how well it performs, even after all this time, after dripping so much juice, it's still hot and firm. Let me finish with it before it gets soft. Then Gabriel and I will check our notes and e-mail it to you so you can double-check it."

Dad said, "Fine, now turn off the speaker, this is private."

Sandy, grinding her body into mine, said, "I turned if off dear," and wrapped her arms around my neck, holding the phone so we could both hear Dad say, "Thanks for taking such good care of Gabriel, keep up the good work."

"Don't worry, he'll get my full attention, he'll feel so welcome he'll come over and over."

* * * * *

We were at Versailles House. The reviews were right-on: the service was obsequious, the decor overwrought, the food mediocre. Dad was bragging about how brilliant he was, how he'd taken the other guy, while I tried to say, "Hmmmm..." at appropriate intervals. It's hard to concentrate when your step-mother is fondling your dick under the table.

Dad ordered dessert, something gooey. Sandy's hand, drops of pre-cum on her fingers, came out of my pants. She spread them on her fork, speared a bit of dessert, took a bite, smiled, and said, "It's better than usual dear, this sauce is stronger and sweeter."

* * * * *

At the house Dad, words slurred, said, "Not sure should have 'nother."

Handing him a glass of champagne Sandy said, "Nonsense, a toast to the conquering hero, another deal done." Dad downed his bubbly while Sandy and I pressed full glasses to closed lips, tilted our heads back, put full glasses back down.

Later, while my father snored away, his wife joined me in the guest bedroom.

* * * * *

Sandy was making coffee. I was standing behind her, arms around her waist, kissing her neck. The upstairs toilet flushed. Sandy turned in my arms and said, "He's up, time to bring him his coffee." I followed, watching her ass until Sandy handed Dad a mug, sat on the edge of the bed, and said, "I made it just the way you like it dear and since this will be a multi-cup morning, Gabriel brought you a thermos and all the fixings."

"Thanks. Champagne got to me last night."

"After your big success you deserved it dear."

"I guess I should apologize for not being around."

I said, "Hey Dad, you're a busy man and it gave Sandy and I the chance to get to know each other, to forge a new relationship."

Sandy said, "Yes dear, we got along real well, we're talking about getting together during your next business trip. It would also be a chance to see Viki, she and I have stayed in touch since graduation."

Dad, smiling at the memory of Viki (what man wouldn't) and pleased that someone else would perform his parental duties, said, "That'd be great."

"Gabriel and I loaded the truck with the boxes for the charity auction. His flight is not til 2:00, we don't need to leave til noon, so take your time. I'll drop you and the boxes at the office, drop Gabriel at the airport, grab a cup of coffee with some friends, and pick you up after work."

Dad, eyes bloodshot, nodded yes and Sandy said, "Good, I'm going to take a shower."

* * * * *

Standing behind my stepmother I pushed the gown off her shoulder, brought my thumb to her mouth, watched her lick it in the bathroom mirror, stroked her exposed nipple. A shudder ran through her compact body; she bit back a moan. I moved my hands to her shoulders, rubbed.

"Is this the only room in the house where we haven't done it?"

Smiling at the memory of our incessant coupling of the last few days she said, "It depends on whether you count the utility closet."

I said, "Well, next visit," pushed the gown off the other shoulder, let it fall to the floor, covered her small round firm breasts with my hands, pressed my hard cock to her butt. Sandy squeezed her thighs together as I kissed her neck, tweaked her nipples, and, recalling Viki's e-mail, said, "You need to be fucked. Your hot pussy needs hard cock. Your husband won't do it, let me be the one."

She dropped her head to my shoulder, her blonde hair caressed my skin, and said, "Yes, oh god yes. Let's break some rules."

I kissed her neck, ran a finger down her labial slit, into her steamy depths. She thrust her sex into me, riding my hand with little gasps and whimpers. A finger of my other hand moved down the cleft of her ass, brushed the puckered asshole, slid inside, kept going until my fingers were separated only by the thin wall between her pussy and asshole.

I wiggled my fingers, Sandy growled, "Oh god yes, it feels good," and leaned into me, letting me support her weight. Our lips met, our tongues played, she turned her body into mine, placed her mouth on my shoulder to muffle her moans.

* * * * *

Sandy knew this was crazy, wrong, and so fucking hot; her step-son's fingers buried in her cunt and asshole, her husband, his father, a few feet away nursing the hangover she'd induced by pouring enough alcohol into him to fell a musk-ox, guaranteeing he'd slept through the night while she snuck down the hall and fucked his son silly.

She bit his shoulder, a hard short nip, and said, "I love this, I love it when you play with me, especially with him so close."

Already addicted to her step-son's body, Sandy knew this wouldn't be the last time. The role of a doting step-mother would be the guise that would allow her to return to his bed again and again. She thought of Viki, certain that free-spirit had somehow master-minded all of this. She certainly hoped so, for she longed to once again feel Viki's sweet body intertwined with her own. And then another thought: she'd never tried a threesome.

* * * * *

Dropping my head to her ear I whispered, "Before Dad you knew what sex was for, you knew men who knew what cock and cunt are for. You'll not deny yourself any longer."

"Oh no, no, never, never, never."

I rolled her clit against her body, finger fucked her, twisted my finger inside her rump. She rocked against me, pressed her face to my shoulder, moaned.

A synchronized one, her movements matched mine, thrusting pussy and backside into my hands, until, body jerking, she exploded. Pussy spasming, ass clenching, she tried burying her face on my arm, but the force of her orgasm was too powerful and her, "Uuuuuuuuhhhhhhh," bounced off the walls.

Voice bleary, Dad said, "Honey, are you okay?"

Sandy placed a finger across my lips, stuck her head out the door, and in a slightly addled voice said, "I'm fine dear, I dropped something while getting ready for my shower," then, closing the door to Dad's disinterested, "Okay," turned on the overhead fan and water, increasing the ambient noise, checked the water temperature, and led me into the shower where, the water pouring over our bodies, Sandy leaned on the shower's front wall, reached between her legs for my dick, and said. "Fuck me. I need cock."

Hands on her hips, I moved into her warm slippery cunt, felt it yield, mold itself to me, felt her shimmy her gorgeous ass on me, clench her satin warmth on me, and reached around, and rolled her clit on her pubic bone. Her body twitched, her stomach growled, her pussy spasmed, her groans, low and long, drowned out by the shower and fan. I entered her again, harder this time, and Sandy yipped, "Ooooooohhhhhh." We paused and, sans response from the bedroom, I pulled my cock out, nice and slow, then plunged back into her heat and wetness.

"You wanna be fucked?"

"Oh yes Gabriel, hard, real hard."

I pinched her clit, drove into her, did it again and again until we heard footsteps and Dad's weary voice outside the door, "Sandy, I'm going downstairs, see if I can keep some food down."

Sandy said, "Okay," and, as he walked away, looked over her shoulder and said, "Fuck me Gabriel, fuck me."

I did, with all I was worth. She came again and again, orgasm following orgasm in hard quick bursts. Her cunt spasmed, my balls tightened, I was close, so close, then I heard Dad in the hallway.

"Where's Gabriel?"

Modulating her voice Sandy said, "Doing me a favor. I needed a big hard screw."

Dad said, "Good. I want some toast and there's no bread. He can pick some up while he's out," then my cell phone, sitting on the bathroom counter, rang. Dad was calling. I lunged for it but Sandy, in a seamless motion grabbed it, turned it off, said, "Honey that's him calling, , I'll let him know," then held the phone in front of her face and said, "Yes Gabriel, the biggest hardest strongest screw you've got. And could you pick up some bread for you father, hold on," then said to the door, "The usual dear, white Bunny Bread?"

"Yes."

She said to the deactivated phone, "White Bunny Bread, your father wants toast and don't forget the screw."

Dad's footsteps moved down the hall and down the stairs.

Sandy leaned on the shower wall and said, "The biggest hardest strongest screw you've got," and I drove inside, her cunt quivering as I moved in and out of her sweet sex and said, "Is this what you need? To be fucked hard, to come hard, to be filled with hot dick and hot cum."

She reached between my legs, coddled and rolled my balls, and said, "God yes, fuck me Gabe, fuck me."

My cock was on fire and when Sandy came her pussy clamped hard on my dick. My asshole clenched, my balls boiled, the spring inside me sprung and, suppressing the howl born in my solar plexus, I flooded her with thick creamy cum. She jiggered, shook on my tool, and her sex contracted again, driving the few drops of cum left in my dick into her tight horny snatch.

* * * * *

We were leaning against the shower wall, trying to catch our breath. The water was lukewarm – hot water heaters have their limits – and Sandy shut it off, turned to me, my cock sliding from her sex, said, "I'm not ready for a cold shower, are you?" buried a hand in my hair, and shoved her tongue in my mouth. Her free hand explored my nipples, the light pattern of my chest hair, the dip of my belly button, squeezed and stroked my re-hardening dick. She said, "It feels like warm hard velvet, let's see how it tastes," dropped to her knees and, as I braced myself on the shower walls, swallowed me. When I reached the back of her mouth she tilted her head, the cock-head nudged on the opening of her throat and, moaning in obscene pleasure, she took several deep breaths through her nose and pushed forward until I slid inside her throat.

She swallowed, hummed, bobbed her head, licked the head, fondled my balls, and desire etched on her pretty face, let me slide from her mouth, pressed her knees to the floor, providing a stable target, and said, "You can do better than that big boy. Think of my face as a cunt, fuck it hard."

A gentleman tries to give a lady what she wants.

Holding her hair in my hand, I sank my dick in her mouth, again, then again, harder each time, Sandy groaning as powerful thrust after powerful thrust filled her face with cock.

And, even in the face of this blitzkrieg assault, Sandy managed to drag her tongue on my shaft, swirl it on the head. This sexy unholy scenario – deep-throating my step-mother with my father downstairs – couldn't be resisted for long and my quivering balls pulled into my body and I, with a low grunt, flooded Sandy's mouth with jets of hot cum.

She swallowed it all, let me slide between her lips, licked my deflated cock, and with a naughty little smile said, "You've got some bread to pick up. Try the convenience store at the corner, you'll pay more, but its quicker. We'll get to that screw later."

* * * * *

The three of us stared at the truck.

Dad said, "There's a lot packed in there. Where are you going to sit?"

Sandy said, "Don't worry dear, I'll find a comfortable spot, then let Gabriel slide right in."

I said, "She's right Dad, even as big as I am I've found I can squeeze into some mighty tight places. Sandy and I will find a way to fit our bodies together."

Dad turned up the volume on the business radio station as we merged into the interstate traffic. My stepmother lifted her short skirt, raised herself, slid my dick along her labia, lowered her panty-less pussy onto my erection. We fucked, the sharp groans of our mutual orgasms drowned out by the deafening noise in the long tunnel under the river.

* * * * *

I hit the send button, forwarding Viki an account of the day's events, as the captain instructed us to turn off electronic devices . Sitting naked on Mom's bed, Viki read it, then read a text from Sandy thanking Viki for the loan of a boyfriend and proposing some dates that she could come and visit. Viki finished reading them just as my mother, newly showered and naked but for the towel around her waist, emerged from the bathroom. Viki stood, turned to face her, and said, "What do you think?"

"About what?"

Viki ran her hands over her pubes, where a fresh thatch of hair was sprouting, and said, "My pussy hair silly. I trimmed it for your son, shaved it for your son, now I'm growing it out. He's never seen it in full bloom. He should have the complete experience."

Mom said, "Would you be serious," and added in a voice tinged with doubt, "You're sure?"

"Sure about what?"

With an affected scowl Mom said, "Y'know, the little stuff. Like whether my son is ready to learn you and I are lovers, were so months before you and he were. And, assuming he's okay with that, whether he'll be willing to make this a happy threesome?"

Picking up Mom's brush, with an air of complete confidence, Viki said, "Oh that, yeah I'm sure, now let's do your hair."

Mom, looking forward to Viki working her hair, decided, for the moment, not to press the issue.

As she brushed Mom's hair Viki was uncharacteristically quiet, wondering was it time to tell Mom about the afternoon of my high school graduation, when she and Sandy had not gone shopping, like they'd told everyone, but had made love in Sandy's hotel room? Was it time to tell Mom the details of my visit to my father?

She finished, decided it was, lay the brush aside, kissed Mom, checked the time, and said, "We better get dressed, we don't want to be late. There are a few things I need to tell you on the way to the airport."

Kapitel 502: Luckiest Guy I Know Ch. 02

Stapelfreischaltung von Kapiteln

Kapitel 502: Luckiest Guy I Know Ch. 02

Stapelfreischaltung von Kapiteln

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