Step Mom: A Family Reunion Gone Wrong

by Jeremy Forsyth

  “Fuck off,” I said when seeing that a remark was forthcoming on his tongue.

  The manager wasn’t in the control room. I then went to the front desk. He wasn’t there either. When I returned to my room, the phone begun ringing immediately. I picked it up like one ready to kill someone.

  “Yes, yes!” I screamed into the phone, “the footage is a great hit, now eat a dick!”

  There came a familiar mild chuckle on the other end. “no thank you, son, I just ate.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, it is your father. But listen to me, your new mother and I had a fight, quite a serious one in fact and so I have decided I need to get to the hotel sooner than I had planned. I will be arriving tomorrow morning.”

  Someone knocked on the door. I went to answer it. “Well, thanks for letting me know,” I replied, dispassionately.

  “Of course. Once I have patched things up with her, we’ll…”

  I hadn’t heard a word once the door to my room was opened, for standing beyond the threshold, dressed in a white swimming costume, a white sarong, stood my African Queen. She looked at me with her usual indifference that was so erotic that I immediately sucked in my breath.

  I hung the phone up and smiled.

  “Good morning.”

  “Dinner tonight,” she said. It was not a question.

  She looked like one of stone, expressionless, yet at the same time, so enticing, with big and juicy lips, dark and mysterious eyes and a body to go with it all.

  “Just tell me where,” I could not believe my luck.

  “Top floor. Penthouse. Bring champagne.”

  “The penthouse?”

  Father is not going to be happy to find his reservations dismissed for someone else, even for this goddess.

  “Yes.”

  She turned around, made to leave with movement that caused me to become lightheaded. Until she disappeared around the corner of the hallway, my eyes, once more, feasted on what they saw; an ass so pungent, a back so athletic, dark and straight, legs long and seemingly agile.

  My arousal was imminent.

  At that moment, I could not forestall the ache that begun forming deep in my crotch. So I closed the door, hurried to my bed and initiated a masturbation session that could have easily been described afterward, as one of the most satisfying of all sessions that I had ever conducted.

  With an image of my African Queen brought to mind, I did not need any visual stimulation provided by the TV or my Ipad. No. All I needed was my imagination. All I needed was to think of her.

  It was bliss!

  Chapter 7

  I arrived at the top floor feeling uncharacteristically nervous, my face flushed while my palms sweated. When finally the door opened for me, I was presented with my African Queen in all her curvaceous wonder.

  I stood in awe, while she stood a symbol of lust, a vision of sex-appeal, with skin dark and smooth, long flowing black hair, face heart-shaped, her eyes black enigmatic pools that were alluring, tormenting; tonight, her full mouth was so ripe, so tempting, her lips made for a man’s kisses.

  My Kisses.

  Around her long neck, a golden necklace once more delved deep between her cleavage, exposed by the very low cut gown that exposed the flesh just above the belly-button. The rest of the gown fell to her shins, the high-heels she wore looking like black gladiator sandals, elevating her to my height. My gaze rose, did not fail to enjoy how wide her hips were, how curvy this woman was.

  Her arms had golden bracelets dangling around her wrists, her long fingers naked but for the massive glimmering rock that signified vows of matrimony had once been taken. When my eyes rose to meet hers again, I was confident that due to me standing where I was, those vows did not matter to her.

  “You’re late,” she said, a slight flicker of annoyance noticed in her dark eyes, a sharp prick in the undertone of her voice.

  That didn’t matter too.

  “I apologize,” I said, “I was nervous to come this evening.”

  When she turned to lead me inside, my eyes were unable to pry themselves away from her perfectly massive butt.

  “Oh yeah?” she said.

  We came before the kitchen. Beyond, the room was dimly lit with closed curtains that to me, set the stage for an evening dinner beneath the glow of candlelight. I was impressed. The effort meant she had plans for this evening, expectations. One look at her, while ruffling through the drawers of her kitchen, I, noticing how briefly she would meet my gaze, I decided that our plans were the same.

  She took from me the bottle of champagne I had brought, clearly intending to pour us both a glass each, when I very quickly slipped around the counter, came to her and offered to toil on her behalf. My hand covered hers delicately, where I touched the silk of her skin, felt the strength in her hand.

  I could tell that my proximity made her nervous. What she could not tell, was that her proximity made me hard, especially when taking in the fragrance of her perfume. My eyes fell to the nape of her neck.

  “There’s no need,” she protested, not letting go of the bottle.

  “I insist,” I said gently, using my other hand to remove hers, where our fingers lingered in the slightest of touches.

  Our eyes were locked, hers then fell to my mouth, mine to hers and when the corners of her mouth were pulled up into the faintest of smiles, her body moved to oblige me. As she moved away, I felt her hips brush passed my boner. She never gave any indication of realizing what combusted inside my pants but nor was I convinced she was ignorant of it too.

  I poured us each a glass. She put on some music and we met back at the table she’d prepared in the lounge.

  “I was surprised you asked me to come tonight,” I began.

  She was sipping her drink, eyes fixed to mine. “I can imagine,” she replied.

  I liked this game.

  “Why?”

  She broke eye contact, dropped her gaze to the napkins before her.

  “Let’s just say, that if my husband feels he can have fun with other women, so can I have fun with a gentleman of my choosing.”

  “And I am the gentleman of your choosing?”

  She shrugged while lifting the rim of her glass back to her lips, eyes meeting mine once more.

  I smiled. I really enjoyed this game.

  “What have you got cooking for us this evening?”

  “Lamb,” she said, putting her glass down.

  The way she stared at me was so suggestive that I could not imagine how I was going to last until after dinner. I was hungry but not for food, but for what awaited me between her legs. I wanted to taste her so badly.

  I prolonged our stare; her expression passive though telling, my expression the same, though with the slightest grin, showing her I was amused and enjoying what I saw while looking at her.

  She suddenly got up, went to the kitchen and from the light cast from the candle on the table, I was able to make out the line of a G-string beneath her thinly styled dress, the fabric so light that I imagined by the smallest gust of wind, the entire dress would betray the woman’s modesty.

  She made for the oven, put on oven-mitts and bent to open its door. She pulled the tray out while I dinned on the shape of her ass, feeling my stiffy extend to its limits, causing a painful ache in my groan.

  She straightened, put tonight’s dinner on the counter and looked at me. I smiled at her. She now picked up a carving knife. I got up. That was when the power suddenly went out.

  Chapter 8

  There was one source of light in the entire room, the one that came from a lonely candle on the table; it contested with the blackness that cast my African Queen into a shroud, illuminating only half of her face.

  From what was revealed, I saw no sign that indicated she held this sudden development with the lights in contempt, but instead, seemed as indifferent as usual. I took that as an encouragement to be bold. And so I looked down at the candle before me, smiling at it. I put it out.

  �
�And why did you do that?” came a voice from the void.

  I applied memory and the sense of touch to be my eyes as I felt my way around the table, towards the kitchen.

  “My hand slipped,” I explained.

  There was no response but by the silence that ensued, there came a change in the atmosphere, as thick as the bulge in my pants, growing thicker with a tension that was almost tangible, a subtle air of anticipation forming, becoming more and more intense as I edged my way closer to the kitchen.

  “I want to ask you a question,” I announced.

  “Mmmm,” was the response I got.

  I smiled.

  This night was mine.

  I could make out a vague outline of the goddess that waited for me and when at last I reached her, I stopped.

  “Why invite a boy over when you’d sooner have a man?”

  I stretched out a hand, pointed a finger and used that to trace a circle around one of the woman’s nipples. She did not protest. Instead, I heard her inhale deeply. I took a step closer.

  “I thought I had invited a man.”

  Good answer.

  I stepped closer. She was angled where her one side faced the edge of the counter, the other side facing me. When my body touched hers, the erection in my pants pressed against the back of her dangling hand.

  “And a man came. But what do you expect of him?”

  My hand now caressed her breast. I then moved it up to her neck. There, my finger lightly explored, gliding over her skin.

  “To be a man,” she whispered close to my ear. “To do what a man should when invited by a woman to her room. A woman, who has needs.”

  My other hand went to her behind. I stroked the curve of one of her large cheeks and felt her body respond to my touch. Straight after, her hand that was caught between her body and my penis, began moving, ever so lightly, gently, making my throat dry up instantly.

  I leaned in. My lips found her cheek. I planted a light kiss upon her skin, then followed up with a kiss near her eye. One hand ran along the slops delving from the lower spine to upper thigh. The other hand had descended, its fingers running over her waist, going lower, lower, until bypassing the area of my utmost desire, so that it fell to the upper thighs.

  She sucked in her breath when my hand went up and beneath her dress. I moved her mouth to mine and the two of us were brought together in a slow and delicate kiss as if both of us were reluctant at that moment to fully commit. We continued enjoying the others tongues until finally, her body turned and pressed itself against mine.

  My erection at this point was hurting incredibly. It was as if it strived to grow larger than it could, as if it sought to escape by ripping a hole through my briefs, then my pants. It was as if it was striving for air.

  It was agony.

  Her hands were cupping my face, my hands gripping her hips. Our kissing had begun picking up pace, where eventually, I lifted her up onto the face of the counter, loving how my hands were basically enveloped by the soft and swallowing flesh of each cheek of her butt.

  Once she was firmly seated, our kissing beginning to increase in passion, my African Queen spread her legs, wrapping them around my hips. She reached a hand down towards my belt. With qualified hands, she removed it, then unbuttoned my pants and slid a hand down into my briefs.

  She was gentle, first caressing the length of my shaft, then giving evasive attention to the head of my penis. But it wasn’t long until she gripped the shaft more firmly, stroked it slowly, tenderly.

  She was not in a hurry, nor was I while bringing up her dress over her hips. She’d been sitting on it so she had to move to free the material that had been pinned between counter and bum. Once the dress was free, I pulled it over her head and though the room was dark, I noticed that the motion of her lifting her arms up into the air before bringing them down, had caused her massive breasts to bounce.

  Our kissing continued but was eventually broken up by my mouth finding her neck, planting kisses there until I heard her suck in her breath once more, releasing it in shudders. She eventually began making soft breathing noises by the time she took off my dinner jacket and made quick work of the buttons of my shirt. While I stood shirtless, she began exploring my physique with her hands, then her lips and lastly, her tongue.

  She dropped kisses over my torso, kissed lower and lower until she decided to prop herself off the counter, bend her knees and pull my pants and briefs down as she met the ground. I steadied myself on the edges of the counter when finally she inserted my penis into her mouth.

  Chapter 9

  She was no novice but a veteran, a master, the one who revealed to me, pleasures I had never once felt before, nor imagined ever feeling. But there was no rush. The night had just begun.

  She pulled my cock out from her mouth, glanced up at me from the floor with my cock still in her hand and though the room was utter blackness, I noticed the gaze of longing, how, though she had brought me to the brink of climax, she herself ached with desire.

  She kissed the skin beneath my pelvis, came back up so that our lips could meet once more. One of my hands was gently gripping the side of her neck, the other at her back, endeavoring to unclip her bra. At the same time, I disentangled my feet from my pants, started kicking off my shoes while she wiggled free from the bra that slid down her breasts.

  I cupped one of those breasts again, squeezed. She focused on dropping the black G-string that hugged the lower regions of her body, all while our kissing continued. By then there was a growing sense of urgency. Every fibre in my body, all my mental inclinations, urged me to put her back on the counter and stick my penis inside her, to feel the tight fit of her pussy-lips compressing around my penis-head, then my shaft.

  But like her, I was in no hurry either.

  I brought both hands down, gripped each cheek and lifted her off the ground. In her eagerness, she jumped and wrapped both legs around my waist, her arms around my neck, her lips now moving over mine in a more vigorous manner, as if she was some starved child who’d forgotten the taste of food.

  I took us both to the door I assumed would lead to her bedroom. I opened it with ease, continued forward in the dark, loving the feeling of my erect cock beneath the curve of her bare pussy; one of the best sensations I had ever felt in my entire life.

  I made out where her bed was, came to its edge and steadily, brought her down. She released me, backed up towards the headboard while I followed on all fours, her legs spread open, my eyes thirsty to sate their desire by scoping out the condition of her vagina. The darkness made it difficult but at the same time, could not conceal factions of its design, how thick indeed were her vagina’s lips, curving inwardly like the bonnet of a Beatle-car.

  I found her mouth again, my one hand pushed into the bed for support, my penis gliding back and forth over her clit, my other hand more earnest upon her breasts. I lowered my head, began kissing her neck, her own arms flailing above her head while she arched her back, bringing her head further down into the pillow in a demeanour of mounting ecstasy.

  I made my way down the length of her body, once again astonished at the voluptuousness of her form. I dropped kisses upon her stomach, then her pelvis, a hand simultaneously brushing the end of its fingernails over the skin of her inner thigh. She began to moan at that point, more so when my kisses descended lower; first upon her pubic region, a deforestation of smooth terrain as if only yesterday the woman had waxed the skin raw. My head angled to the right, sending my mouth to find the hollow between thigh and vagina. She extended the leg further to the side so as to give me room, sucked in her breath as if stung, while my lips continued kissing in that area.

  My hands did not stop exploring the sensitive regions of her thighs, the inner parts, and the outer parts, not until they began venturing closer and closer to her pussy’s outer lips, where a finger circled the perimeter with light touches.

  She was so wet, so turned on that I knew that she was ready for me. But just now, I was not yet ready
to give myself over to her. But the teasing was done and now, it was time to feast.

  I brought my mouth to her clit and after kissing it, two fingers spreading apart the delicious flesh that cloaked it. I had now started licking; there was no off-putting aroma exuding. In fact, there was no scent at all, a rarity I enjoyed in moments like these. Here I decided that physically, this woman was perfect, possessed every bit of a man’s dream and with that silent admission, I lost myself in her.

  I continued licking while her hands rubbed through my hair, both of them, ever so often my sculpt feeling the sharp edges of her nails. I loved how she moaned. Her thighs, that just now, were pressed against my ears, could not stop from fidgeting, her back becoming arched, then straight again, arched and then straightened. Every so often she smacked the headboard behind her with her hands as if frustrated and when she complained suddenly that she could not wait any longer, I lifted my head and obliged her.

  I came back up so that our faces were levelled. There she looked at me with lazy, sightless eyes, while she chewed on her bottom lip.

  I then guided my penis into her, watched as her mouth gaped open, no breath or sound coming forth until all of me was inside of her. There, she gave off a loud sigh of relief and pleasure.

  Now it began.

  Slowly, I began thrusting, easing my penis in and out. But steadily did the motion begin picking up momentum, faster and faster, my African Queen gripping my body while her legs extended high above her.

  “Yes,” she trembled, “Yes, yes, yes.”

  Her pussy felt even better than I had imagined; so warm, so sleek, the wettest I have ever experienced. But suddenly, I felt it time for a change. I quickly pulled my penis out and flipped her onto her stomach. I didn’t have to do anything more at that point, for she knew what I wanted. She lifted her ass to meet my cock, but I re-entered her vagina and her pleasure took a whole new turn.