See? I truly am a lucky man to be sharing a house with two attractive women.
Stepmom in Heat with Stepson
I never would have guessed that my dad’s vacation last year would benefit both of us. At the time, I knew it would be something that would benefit him, because he definitely needed a getaway. I can look back now, though, and relish this. I just don’t know if my dad knows, or would appreciate my happiness.
Here’s how my happiness came about – and maybe, you’ll understand why my dad would actually be less than pleased with my happiness – despite most parents wanting their kids to be happy.
This might be one of those few exceptions.
I’m Robert, a twenty-one-year-old college student. My dad, Richard, is a widowed forty-five-year-old businessman. I lost my mom about five years ago in a car accident. My dad had a really hard time with it, and finally after about three years I talked to my dad. I was concerned for him because while he loved my mom very much, I felt he was mourning her too long. He wasn’t dating or being social at all; he was one of the better extroverts I know, but he wasn’t going out much at all. I sat down with him at the kitchen table one night.
“Dad, I think it’s time,” I said.
“Time for what?” he said.
“It’s been three years, Dad,” I said. “You really have over-mourned here. You’re not happy, you’re not social. I want you to get out more.”
“Really? Do you think so?” he asked.
“Yeah, really,” I said. “Several of my friends have asked me how you’re doing, because they’re used to seeing you out and you haven’t been out lately. They never notice stuff like that unless it was reeallyy unusual.”
“Well, I am thinking about taking a vacation,” he said, thumbing a pamphlet on the kitchen table.
“Yeah? Good for you,” I said. “What are you planning to do? Sit and watch March Madness all weekend?”
“Hardy har har,” he said. “First of all, it’s only February. And second, I have been doing some research and I’ve decided that I want to take some time and go visit another country, and maybe meet some new people.” He then handed me the glossy pamphlet.
It read on the cover, “Russia Love Tours.” The cover was filled with photos of beautiful women. I wondered if Russia contained all these women – and could I meet them?
“You love Russia?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet, but I’m interested in spending a couple weeks in Russia and meet some single women there who are looking for a man – especially a man in a Western country,” he said. “I went to a seminar about this a few days ago and I’ve been thinking about it very seriously. But you coming here to express concern just settles it for me. I think I need this, because I know I’ve been distant from you and others. I know I’m lonely because I miss your mom. I won’t ever meet anyone like your mom, but I know I could use some companionship, someone to share my life with and talk about our days, goals and dreams.”
“Good for you,” I said. “This looks pretty good. When do you leave?”
“Well, I will arrange to be on a tour of Russia in May, so I have to call now and get my passport updated. I’ll be gone for two weeks, closer to seventeen days with all the travel.”
“That sounds great, Dad,” I said, patting his shoulder blade with my hand. “You deserve a break, and you deserve to meet someone. I’m really happy that you’re doing this.”
“Thanks, son,” he said.
Six months later, I was invited to dinner by my dad. After class, I headed to a fancy restaurant where I was told that I would meet Dad and his new fiancée.
I walked in and my dad was standing a foot or two away from a beautiful redhead. She was a statuesque five-foot-ten with ivory skin, freckles, dark-red hair and piercing green eyes. She was very athletic looking with slender legs, narrow waist and gentle curves up her body. She was wearing a black spaghetti-strap dress that stopped just above her knee. In a way, she reminded me of my mom – only younger and hotter.
“Hi Dad,” I said, giving him a hug. He had a bright, wide smile, like the old him – the extrovert.
“Great to see you, son,” he said with his normally loud, contagiously upbeat voice. “So glad you could make it.”
“So where is she?” I thought this redhead was our hostess.
Dad took a step toward the redhead and put his arm around her waist. The redhead put her hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Son, I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Svetlana, from Russia.”
I stopped, opened my mouth, then put out my hand. “Um, uh …”
“It is very nice to meet you, Robert,” Svetlana said in excellent English, taking my hand and shaking it. “Richard, my beloved, has told me very much about you. I am very excited to begin a life with your father and to be a friend and some kind of mother to you.”
Mother? She barely seemed much older than me, I thought. She’s more like a sister. A really hot sister.
“Svetlana is someone I met on the vacation I went on,” my dad said. “Once I saw her, I knew I wanted to be with her. And once we started talking, we seemed to have very similar souls. I know she’s young, but she was raised as an old-fashioned woman, and she is very excited about starting our life together. I spent most of the two weeks with her. She showed me where she grew up, I met her family, and at the end of the trip, I got down on one knee in front of her and about fifty guys and proposed. She cried and said yes. And we got her a visa to come here and she arrived last week and we’ll be getting married next week.”
“Wow,” I said. “Well, I’m very happy for you, Dad. You seem very happy, like yourself again.”
“I am myself again, thanks,” he said. “In fact, I’m myself about twenty years ago. She reminded me a little of your mother and I feel as young as I did when your mom and I were newlyweds.”
Dinner went by pretty quickly, though I did remember smelling Svetlana’s perfume, which had a nice hint of cinnamon that drove me crazy. I remember vaguely asking her questions to get to know her as a person, and I remember that as I sat across the table from the two of them, she looked at me very shyly – would look at me until I made eye contact, then she’d look down at the table - and rarely looked at Dad. I also remembered how tall she sat; yes, she was tall already, but her posture was perfect. She was elegant, beautiful, a real gem on Dad’s arm. She wasn’t Mom, but he hit a home run.
Leading up to the wedding, Svetlana called me and sent me text messages, asking for advice about things that would make my dad happy. Many of these things, I didn’t know, because they were pretty personal.
“But you are a man,” she said. “As a man, what would you like?” From there, I gave her the answers I would give. Then, there were a couple times where she asked me to go shopping with her. This meant I was there with a twenty-three-year-old redhead while she tried different tight dresses and lingerie.
“Yep, I like that one,” I said to her. Often. Very few things she tried on didn’t look good on her. We spent quite a bit of time together while my dad worked. He asked me to make her feel comfortable in town when I wasn’t in class. For him, I did that because I was glad he was happy. And it seemed Svetlana was happy too.
She was very sweet, smart and was like a kid. Being outside of Russia for the first time in her life opened her eyes to a lot of possibilities. She burned my cell phone and for days leading up to the wedding, I saw her a lot more than I saw my girlfriend. And when she was shopping for lingerie, I saw more skin on my future stepmother than on my girlfriend. But by the time she was getting married, I didn’t see her as a stepmom. I saw her as a friend, and I thought she saw me that way too.
The wedding day, I was there at the justice of the peace along with a couple other witnesses – a couple of Dad’s co-workers, along with an immigration official – looking in on the ceremony. Dad seemed very happy facing Svetlana, dressed in his best business suit. However, I noticed that Svetlana barely glanced into Dad’s eyes – her eyes kept moving to me, sta
nding a couple feet away over Dad’s shoulder. She looked beautiful in her ivory-white, skin-tight dress, and she seemed happy when the judge declared my dad and Svetlana as husband and wife, and she kissed Dad very softly and romantically.
Now, fast forward to a month later.
Things were going well, it seemed, as I was going to the house to visit with Svetlana while Dad was on a weeklong business trip. As Svetlana answered the door and let me in, I hung up my cell phone and walked in with a frown on my face, my face red.
“What is the matter, Robert?” Svetlana asked, wearing a white T-shirt and tight jeans. Her perfect size thirty-four breasts stuck out prominently because she had such good posture.
“I just got off the phone with my girlfriend,” I said. “We had another fight.” Svetlana knew that we have had our problems; I opened up to her quite a bit, while she opened up about her two weeks with my dad. She was also very open about giving me a woman’s perspective on things; she was honest enough to tell me if I was in the wrong and how I could best make up with my girlfriend. And every time, she was right – things worked out well and we were fine.
“Come into the kitchen and sit down while I work on dinner and you can tell me about it,” she said. “What was the fight about?”
“I don’t know, exactly, but it seemed the focus was on you and I spending a lot of time together,” I said, pacing in the kitchen while she turned her back to me and stood over the stove. “I tried to tell her that now you’re married to my dad, we wouldn’t be spending as much time together. But she says she missed me and hated that I kept talking about you.”
“Well, I am sorry she feels that way,” she said, turning her face to look at me with those penetrating green eyes. “How do you feel about her?”
“Well, I do have strong feelings for her, but it’s admittedly been rough lately because I’ve been with you and really haven’t seen her much the last five or six weeks. I’m not sure what to do.” Finally worn out from pacing, I sat down on a bar stool and leaned on the counter, holding myself up by my elbows.
“Well, Robert, I think by tomorrow you will have a clear decision, and you will make the right one,” she said. “Right now, you two are very emotional. You need some time to cool down. Let us have a nice dinner and talk about other things.”
“OK, I’ll like that,” I said, smiling in her direction. She flashed her usual bright smile at me and disarmed me. I brightened up. She saw me smile, then turned the stove burner off.
“Is dinner ready?” I asked. She shook her head, and took my hand in hers.
“No, but I do want to talk to you, Robert, about something very important,” she said, looking very earnest.
“What is it, Svetlana?” I asked.
“I am so glad I have met you, Robert,” she said. “You have made me feel very comfortable and I feel like we know each other as people. I really appreciate all you have done for me the last few weeks, and I feel very good to be acquainted with you.”
“Me too, Svetlana,” I said. “I feel like my dad is very lucky to have found you. You are making him very happy, and I think you will be a very good wife for him.”
“Thank you,” she said, “but I’m afraid you need to know something. Your father has been wonderful to me, but I’m not sure I love him like I should, and I think I know why.”
“Why?” I looked into her eyes. For the first time, Svetlana didn’t look away. She met my gaze, and had a look of great seriousness, but compassion for me, on her face.
“I’m afraid that since we have spent so much time together, I do see how you are like your father,” she said, “but I have developed very strong feelings for you, Robert, and I wish very much that you feel the same way. But I feel bad because I am married to your father, and …”
Before she could even say another word, I moved in on her, pushing her up against the refrigerator and kissed her deeply on the lips. At first she tried to push me away, but once I pressed the crotch of my jeans into hers, she did not resist. She kissed me back, her tongue splitting my lips and teeth to reach for my tongue for a dance. Our tongues did a lambada, it seemed, for a few seconds before I kissed her neck and moved my hands along the sides of her body.
“I am crazy about you, Svetlana,” I said, moving my hands down to her jeans to start unfastening them. Svetlana breathed heavily and held my head against her neck as I kissed it and sucked and nibbled on her ear lobe. She pressed her hips into me, and my nostrils filled with the light scent of cinnamon from her perfume. This was one of the things she bought upon my advice of what I liked, supposedly for my dad’s benefit.
“Oh god, you’re beautiful,” I said, unzipping her jeans and pushing a hand aggressively inside her cotton panties. She gasped and breathed heavily, pressing her pelvis against my hand and she reached down and started pulling my shirt up over my head. I released from between her legs to take my shirt off, and I tossed it aside – it landed on the kitchen sink faucet. Svetlana ran her hands over my hairless chest, then looked into my eyes again. Now there was a sultry lustiness I hadn’t seen before. I dove my hand between her legs again and started twiddling her soft spot with a couple of my fingers. She gasped, looked down at my hand, but then exhaled, her breasts heaving. She then rolled her eyes back in her head and closed her eyelids, putting her head back against the fridge. She then slightly opened her legs, allowing me better access to her grail. I pushed my hand deeper into her panties so I could rub my thumb in a circular motion over her sweet spot, my fingers now moving side to side and long the length of her channel, making her folds moist. She breathed heavily in my ears as my other hand slid up under her tight T-shirt and stared roughly massaging and squeezing her breasts through her bra.
“Ohhh, Robert, my lost love,” Svetlana said breathlessly. “I am here for you now, and forever!”
With that, I pulled on the waist of Svetlana’s jeans and panties and started pulling them down over her hips. She moved her hips side to side to help me, then they fell to the floor. I went back to kissing her and she started unzipping my jeans, which had an expanded crotch area by now. As she unbuttoned me, she rubbed my crotch area and sighed as we kissed, then a smile came across her face.
“This is for me?” she asked with fake innocence.
“Every inch,” I said. “One hundred percent, American-made meat.” I smiled naughtily. Svetlana giggled and cast a sultry glance at me.
“Oh, I love America,” she said, pulling my jeans off my hips. They fell to the floor easily and I lifted her T-shirt and she pulled it off and threw it and it landed on the back of one of the chairs in the dining area. I reached around her and unhooked her bra pretty quickly (I’ve had some practice, you know) and immediately licked and sucked on her breasts like they were the only thing keeping me from starving to death. Her nipples with small and bright pink and stood out like little pebbled as I manipulated them. I pinched them, lightly bit them and sucked on them, washing them thoroughly, which made Svetlana’s body spasm and groans of pleasure escape her red lips. She reached down to feel my shaft. I was at full attention, and she moved her hand slowly up and down my length as if to measure me. She smiled and sighed.
After washing her breasts with my tongue and lips and feeling her cup my eggs and run her fingers softly over me, I made an aggressive move. I pulled her away from the fridge and put her against the counter. She put her hands on the edge of the counter and stood away from it about two feet, bent over at the waist and pointing her firm butt at me. I licked a couple fingers, positioned myself right behind her and dragged my fingers one time up the lips of her channel, then I pointed my purple head at her opening. She breathed heavily and looked back at me.
With one strong but slow thrust of my hips, I plunged myself into Svetlana. I moved into her slowly so that she could feel me. She felt tight, like I was stretching her, and she moaned long and deep, matching the amount of time I took to impale her completely. I paused for a couple seconds, then bent over and kissed her slender back as
I reached under her and squeezed her breasts and pinched her nipples. She moaned and sighed in pleasure, a wide, lusty smile crossing her face.
Then, I began a very forceful thrusting rhythm inside her, and she was already moaning and screaming as I pumped her, my eggs audibly slapping against her. I grabbed her ponytail and held it, pulling her head up as my piston buried inside her, feeling her muscles squeezing me and her warm moist entrance welcoming me with each thrust. She moaned, and groaned, and gritted her teeth as I increased my pace.
After a few pumps, I let go of her ponytail and put both hands on either side of her waist and became very forceful, practically pulling her hips into me while my hips thrust into her. Her perfectly arced butt rippled with every contact I made with her, and I saw goosebumps appear on her skin as she moaned. I then took one hand and with a quick downward motion, slapped her butt cheek with a glancing blow, which caused Svetlana to shriek and say, “Ohhh.” I did this again several more times, in rhythm with my thrusting, and as I saw a bright red mark the size of a grapefruit appear on her cheek, I felt my eggs tighten up and some fluid begin to build up in me.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I said rhythmically, which made Svetlana look back at me and groan.
“Oh my love,” she said. “I want us to be one!”
I now reached under her and forcefully and aggressively grabbed her breasts and held her tight. She put one hand over mine, still bracing herself against the counter, feeling our naked bodies coming together. My shaft was not hollow any more, but filled with warm milk. It was stopped up behind my tip, waiting to be let loose.
As if right on cue, Svetlana moved her hand away from her chest and reached down between her legs. She felt my eggs slapping against her in a steady rhythm. She ran her fingers over my eggs quickly one time, and that was all it took.
The Erotic Kin - Master Collection (The Erotic Kin Master Collection) Page 5
