Stepmom

Chapter 3

I couldn't sleep a wink after all that happened. I lay, staring at the roof, the ceiling fan twirling with a slight wobble, creating long shadows.

My alarm goes-off, an annoying jungle beat. I fist-hammer it, miss, hitting the edge of the nightstand, and try again. This time I catch it on the button, and it shuts off.

Lazily, I get myself up. I pick out some clothes and make a start for the shower. My morning wood throbbing, not thinking about anything specific, I just wake up naturally with a boner every day. Pissing while erect is a hazard, luckily, I learned the trick quite early. I lean over the toilet at a forty five degree angle, holding my weight with a hand on the wall, and my other hand gently pushing my penis down, releasing my morning vitamins. Piss is yellow-brown and I think water would do me some good.

Minutes passed and my dick persisted on remaining erect. I grab the lotion from the storage area under the basin, put a dab on my palm and commence massaging my penis. I think about Rosie and her round butt. Not believing that I touched her behind my father's back. Her warm, wet pussy, and the wet explosions she released on my hand.

I want that to happen again. I stroke my cock, full length. My clear, pre-cum ejects, and I use it as more lubricant. My hip stutters as I cum repeatedly in the toilet. Feeling relieved, I step into the shower and do my morning routine.

21 minutes later...

I walk back to my room and stop abruptly. I hear moaning, or at least that's what my ears perceive it as.

I furtively peek in my room. Rosie's on my bed with one of my pillows between her legs. She wears a black summer dress with white polka-dots sprinkled evenly, some big, some small. She had rolled the bottom of the dress all the way to her breasts, so that the bottom roundness peeked through, but no nipples. Unfortunately.

She glides her pink womanhood over my soft pillow; she repeats the process while moaning. She looks really comfortable laying on her back with my pillow between her legs.

I wonder if she's thinking about me.

She sits up, folds the pillow in half to make it firmer and hops on it, holding the pillow in place with her thighs, moving back and forth. She readjusts the pillow, and starts swaying her hip faster and faster, moaning while she adjusts her hair, and running her hands over the dress where her breasts reside. She careens into the pillow, rubbing against the wet pillow case.

I wish I was the pillow.

Yesterday, after dinner, my father had done some binge drinking. He must still be knocked out. He kindly allowed for me to drink one with him, and Rosie even joined in with a few of her own.

I clutch my dirty laundry as I watch Rosie ride my pillow. I don't know if I should walk in; I'm enjoying the show. My penis feels the sensation but does not stand. I'm freaking nervous. Yesterday, I had a loud television covering my fear and hesitation, and I might have gotten a little brave after watching all that football. Today is a different story. Today this seems more real. And why the hell is she in my room?

Hell with it.

I'm walking in. I don't care. It's my room, and I have the right to put my laundry in the damn basket. At least I have an excuse for entering my own room, in case she asks.

I walk in, and Rosie stares at me while squeezing one of her nipples. I notice a small beauty mark just around the corner above her breast. I stare at her blue eyes as she sails on the pillow with fast and deep thrusts. She has no care for my watching her. None.

I let my clothes drop, simply like that. I steer my rolling-chair to the front of my bed and take a seat, maintaining vision on her body.

Rosie furiously rubs her vagina on my pillow; I can see the pillow dampen, dark like a shadow. She continues to ride my pillow, her large breasts jiggling here and there, and then she speaks. "Leo why aren't you hard for me?" Just a simple question, but one that leaves my cheeks red as Mars.

"I... I...well, I masturbated in the bathroom that could be it." I say shyly.

The pillow squeaks under her weight. "Were you thinking..." She moans "...of me."

"...Maybe" I say with an eyebrow raised.

She moves her pussy over the soft pillow—the pillow that holds my head when I sleep—the pillow that I will never wash again.

"Well... don't masturbate early in the mornings any more. I..... Get really..... Fu—." She gasps and squeezes her breasts. Me, waiting in anticipation. "—cking...horny... in the morning, and want some... cock."

She removes the pillow from under her, lays back and rubs her entrance so fast her fingers seem to turn invisible. Three massive squirts of water jet-out her pink pussy while she four-finger-pats her lips, sending the juice in spiraling directions.

I watch in amazement.

Damn, my stepmom is fucking hot.

"Leo, don't you dare masturbate tomorrow morning, because tomorrow, I want you to be a mother-fucker, even if I'm only considered your stepmom." She stands up, unrolls her dress, letting it fall to cover her body.

On her way out, she stops, grabs my face with small hands, and kisses my cheek. I think I blush, I feel my cheeks glowing warm.

I'm not jerking-off in the mornings. I'm not jerking-off in the mornings. I'm not jerking-off in the mornings. I repeat this song hoping that the next morning this all was not just some dream.