I always knew something was off in our house, like a secret humming just beneath the surface, vibrating through the walls. My dad worked long hours at the firm, leaving me alone with her—Elena, my stepmom. She was a vision, mid-thirties with curves that could make a saint reconsider his vows. Her tits were full and heavy, always straining against those thin blouses she favored, nipples poking through like they were begging for attention. I'd caught myself staring more times than I could count, my eyes tracing the swell of her cleavage as she bent over to pick something up, or the way her ass swayed in those tight yoga pants when she "forgot" I was home.
She never said a word to Dad about it. Instead, she'd just smile, that knowing curve of her lips, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a heat that made my cock twitch. "Like what you see, Jake?" she'd tease in that husky voice, low enough that it felt like a whisper meant only for me. I'd mumble some excuse and retreat to my room, fisting my dick under the covers, imagining peeling those clothes off her, sucking on those pert nipples until she moaned my name.
But imagination was all it was—until that night. Dad had invited some "friends" over for a dinner party. I was supposed to be out, but plans fell through, so I slunk upstairs, pretending to study. The laughter downstairs grew louder, glasses clinking, voices thickening with alcohol. Curiosity got the better of me. I crept to the top of the stairs, peering down through the banister.
Elena was in the center of it all, her red dress hugging every inch of her body like a second skin. The neckline plunged deep, exposing the inner curves of her breasts, and the hem rode high on her thighs as she laughed, tossing her long, wavy hair over one shoulder. The scent of her perfume wafted up—jasmine and something musky, intoxicating. Dad was there too, his hand on her lower back, but his eyes were on the couple across from them. The man was built like a linebacker, his wife a petite blonde with legs for days.
As the night wore on, the conversation turned... flirtatious. Elena's hand brushed the linebacker's arm, lingering a second too long. Dad leaned in to whisper something to the blonde, making her giggle. My heart pounded. What the fuck was this? I watched, frozen, as Elena excused herself to the kitchen. The linebacker followed a minute later, casual as hell.
I shouldn't have followed. But I did, slipping down the back stairs like a shadow. The kitchen door was cracked, and through it, I saw them. Elena leaned against the counter, her dress hiked up just enough to show the lace edge of her panties. The guy was close, too close, his hand sliding up her thigh. She didn't push him away. Instead, she arched into it, her breath hitching as his fingers disappeared under the fabric.
"Oh, yes," she murmured, her voice a throaty purr that sent blood rushing straight to my groin. I could hear the wet sound of his fingers working her, the slick slide in and out, her pussy already soaking from whatever game they'd been playing all evening. Her tits heaved with each breath, nipples hard points against the silk. She bit her lip, eyes half-lidded, and reached down to palm his crotch, stroking the bulge there with slow, deliberate motions.
My cock hardened instantly, throbbing against my jeans. I palmed myself through the fabric, unable to look away. This wasn't just flirting. This was... swinging? Dad knew? The thought hit me like a freight train. All those late nights, the "business trips"—it made sense now. Elena was a free spirit, fucking whoever she wanted, and Dad was in on it.
The linebacker growled, pulling her panties aside. I caught a glimpse—her pussy shaved smooth, lips glistening with arousal, pink and swollen. He dropped to his knees, burying his face between her thighs. Elena gasped, her hand tangling in his hair, hips grinding against his mouth. The slurping sounds echoed—his tongue lapping at her clit, sucking her folds, her juices dripping down his chin. "Fuck, you taste so sweet," he muttered, voice muffled. She moaned louder, her free hand cupping her breast, pinching the nipple through the dress until it peaked even harder.
I stroked myself faster, biting back a groan. But then her eyes flicked up—straight to the door. Straight to me. Panic surged, but she didn't stop. Instead, her lips curled into that same teasing smile. She held my gaze as she rode his face, her body trembling, the scent of her arousal thick in the air now, musky and heady. Her moans grew breathier, building to a crescendo. "Yes... right there... oh god, I'm gonna come..."
She shattered, thighs clamping around his head, a low, keening cry escaping her lips. Her eyes never left mine. It was like she was performing for me, the heat in her stare pulling me in deeper. The guy stood, wiping his mouth, but she waved him off with a laugh. "Go back to the party. I'll be there soon."
He left, oblivious. I backed away, heart hammering, but before I could flee, she called softly, "Jake? Come here."
My feet moved on their own. I pushed the door open, stepping into the kitchen. She straightened her dress, but her cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, the air still heavy with the smell of her release. Up close, I could see the sheen of sweat on her collarbone, the way her chest rose and fell.
"You saw," she said, not a question. Her voice was silk over gravel, sending shivers down my spine.
I nodded, throat dry. "You... and Dad... swingers?"
She stepped closer, her perfume enveloping me, mixed with the faint, salty tang of her arousal. Her hand brushed my arm, light as a feather, but it ignited every nerve. "We've been open for years. He likes watching me... enjoy myself. And I like cock, Jake. Any cock that makes me feel good."
Her eyes dropped to my crotch, where my erection strained obviously. She licked her lips, slow and deliberate. "Even yours."
My breath caught. This was it—the line I'd fantasized about crossing. But she didn't rush. Instead, she turned, pouring herself a glass of wine, her ass pressing back against me just enough to feel the heat of her body. "You've been staring at my tits for months," she murmured, taking a sip. The liquid stained her lips redder. "Wondering what they feel like? Taste like?"
I swallowed hard, my hands itching to touch. "Every day."
She set the glass down, turning to face me. Her fingers trailed down my chest, nails scraping lightly through my shirt, sending sparks straight to my balls. "Then why don't you find out? But slow, Jake. I like it slow at first... building until I can't take it anymore."
My hands trembled as I reached for her, cupping her breasts through the dress. They were soft yet firm, overflowing my palms, the heat of her skin seeping through. I squeezed gently, thumbs circling her nipples, feeling them harden further under my touch. She sighed, arching into me, her breath warm against my neck.
"Lower," she whispered, guiding my hand down her body, over the curve of her hip, to the hem of her dress. I slid it up, inch by inch, exposing her thighs, the lace panties still damp from earlier. My fingers brushed the fabric, feeling the wetness, the heat radiating from her core.
She parted her legs slightly, inviting. I hooked a finger under the edge, pulling it aside. Her pussy was right there, folds slick and inviting, clit peeking out swollen and pink. I traced a finger along her slit, gathering her juices, the slippery warmth coating my skin. She moaned softly, hips tilting toward me. "Taste me," she urged.
I brought my finger to my mouth, sucking it clean. Salty-sweet, addictive. My cock ached, pre-cum leaking into my boxers.
But she pulled back, eyes gleaming. "Not here. Upstairs. Your room. I want you to fuck me properly, Jake. Every day from now on."
The promise hung in the air, thick with tension. I nodded, dazed, as she smoothed her dress and slipped back to the party. The night was just beginning, but the burn—the slow, erotic burn—had ignited. And I knew I'd be buried balls-deep in that dirty little pussy soon enough.
The party dragged on downstairs, voices muffled through the floorboards, but my mind was upstairs, replaying every second in the kitchen. Elena's scent clung to my finger, a constant reminder. I paced my room, cock still half-hard, the fabric of my jeans chafing against it. Every creak in the house made me tense— was that her?
Finally, the front door closed, guests leaving in a chorus of goodbyes. Dad's voice rumbled, then footsteps on the stairs. I held my breath. My door cracked open, and there she was, slipping in like a shadow, locking it behind her. She'd changed— or rather, unchanged. The red dress was gone, replaced by a silk robe that barely reached mid-thigh, tied loosely at the waist. It gaped open at the top, revealing the valley between her breasts, skin glowing under the dim lamp light.
"Miss me?" she purred, her bare feet padding across the carpet. The robe whispered against her legs with each step, and I could smell her again— that jasmine perfume mixed with the lingering musk of her earlier orgasm.
"Like hell," I growled, voice rough. I stood, closing the distance, but she held up a hand, stopping me.
"Slow, remember?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief. She untied the robe slowly, letting it slide off her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Naked. Completely fucking naked. Her body was a masterpiece— tits full and round, nipples dark and erect in the cool air, begging to be sucked. Her waist curved in, flaring to hips that screamed to be gripped. And between her thighs, her pussy lips puffy, a hint of moisture glistening on the inner folds.
I drank her in, my mouth watering. She stepped closer, her heat radiating, nipples brushing my chest through my shirt. "Undress for me," she commanded softly.
I stripped, shirt first, then jeans, my cock springing free, hard and veined, the tip slick with pre-cum. Her gaze dropped, lips parting as she took in the sight. "Mmm, bigger than I imagined." She reached out, wrapping her fingers around my shaft, stroking slowly from base to tip. Her hand was warm, grip firm but teasing, thumb swirling over the head, spreading the bead of pre-cum. I groaned, hips bucking involuntarily.
She sank to her knees, breath hot against my skin. Her tongue flicked out, lapping at the underside, tracing the vein there. The sensation was electric— wet, warm, sending jolts through me. She took her time, licking up and down, savoring, her free hand cupping my balls, rolling them gently, nails scraping just enough to tease.
"God, Elena..." I tangled my fingers in her hair, the strands soft and silky.
She looked up, eyes locked on mine as she opened her mouth, taking the head inside. Her lips stretched around me, tongue swirling, sucking lightly. The wet heat enveloped me, her cheeks hollowing as she took more, inch by inch, until I hit the back of her throat. She hummed, the vibration buzzing through my cock, making my knees weak.
She bobbed slowly, agonizingly slow, saliva dripping down my shaft, pooling at the base. The slurping sounds filled the room, obscene and intoxicating. Her hand stroked what her mouth couldn't reach, twisting slightly, building the pressure. I could smell her arousal again, see her thighs pressing together as she knelt, her pussy dripping onto the carpet.
I pulled her up, unable to wait. "My turn." I pushed her onto the bed, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy opened like a flower, inner lips wet and pink, clit throbbing visibly. I leaned in, inhaling her scent— musky, feminine, addictive. My tongue traced her slit, lapping up her juices, the taste exploding on my tongue: tangy, sweet, with a hint of salt.
She moaned, back arching, hands fisting the sheets. "Yes, Jake... eat me out." I obliged, sucking her clit between my lips, flicking it with my tongue while my fingers probed her entrance. She was tight, walls clenching as I pushed two inside, curling them to hit that spot. Her hips ground against my face, coating my chin with her slickness. The bed creaked under us, her breaths coming in pants, building higher.
"Don't stop... oh fuck, I'm close..." Her thighs trembled, muscles tensing. I sucked harder, fingers pumping faster, the wet squelch echoing. She came with a cry, pussy spasming around my digits, fresh juices flooding my mouth. I drank her down, prolonging it until she shuddered, sensitive.
But I wasn't done. I climbed up, positioning my cock at her entrance. She was dripping, ready. "Fuck me," she begged, nails digging into my shoulders.
I pushed in slowly, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around me, hot and velvet-tight. The sensation was overwhelming— her walls gripping, pulsing. I bottomed out, balls against her ass, and paused, savoring the fullness.
Then I moved, slow thrusts at first, pulling out almost to the tip before sliding back in. Each stroke dragged against her sensitive spots, her moans syncing with the slap of skin on skin. Sweat beaded on our bodies, the room thick with the scent of sex. I leaned down, capturing a nipple in my mouth, sucking hard, teeth grazing.
"Faster," she gasped, legs wrapping around me, heels digging into my back. I obliged, pounding harder, the bed frame rattling. Her tits bounced with each thrust, her pussy clenching tighter, milking me.
"I'm gonna come inside you," I grunted, the pressure building, balls tightening.
"Do it," she whimpered. "Fill my dirty little pussy."
I exploded, ropes of cum shooting deep, her own orgasm crashing over her, walls fluttering around me. We collapsed, breathless, bodies slick and entwined.
As our breathing slowed, she kissed my neck, whispering, "Every day, Jake. Every single fucking day."
And I knew this was just the start.