Step Mom: A Family Reunion Gone Wrong Read online

  Step Mom

  A Family Reunion Gone Wrong

  By

  Jeremy Forsyth

  Copyright © 2019 Jeremy Forsyth

  All rights reserved.

  Distributed by Smashwords

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 1

  In the dim light of the penthouse, the beauty standing in front of me seemed to glow, the smooth texture of her ebony skin anointed from what light flickered from the bed-side table, caressing the edges of her abounding curves.

  She was standing naked on the threshold of the balcony, peering out across the terrace towards a night sky accentuated by how bountiful were its stars. I watched her from the bed with hungry eyes, was pleased but not yet satisfied with the raunchy tussle that had, moments ago, conveyed beneath the sheets.

  She was a goddess in human form, a woman of the night, the serenade of her enticing form an epitome of what physical perfection could be described as being, and while I soaked in her sight, took in the length of her body, how endless seemed her legs, how perfectly rounded was each cheek of her butt, I felt a familiar stirring within my briefs, the constriction of the material prohibiting further expansion from my body.

  My sudden arousal soon began to hurt.

  The chill of the night was palpable. Both of us felt it and thankfully, my African Queen could not endure the chill any longer. She stepped back, closed the door and returned to the bed.

  “It seems you need a more thorough woman to tire you out,” she whispered to me, clearly referring to what poked around her inner thighs beneath the covers, seeking a brand-new invasion between her legs.

  “You think you’re up for the challenge?” I asked her.

  My eyes fell to her smile as it widened lazily. “I am no quitter,” she told me, her voice losing its breath as one of her hands slipped beneath the sheets, bringing forth my erection from my briefs, her bottom lip now chewed as she gripped my arousal with expert hands.

  She edged closer into my body and I covered her mouth with mine in a delicate and soulful kiss. While she stroked my penis, I cupped one of her breasts, occasionally drawing my other hand back to softly pinch at one of her stiffened nipples.

  I eventually abandoned the nipple, however, and slowly reached downwards, taking my time as I glided my fingers softly over the skin of her stomach, her pelvis, then slowly, her inner thighs. I let my hands tease her senses for a while, returning from inner thigh to pelvis, then back to stomach. I did not go near her pussy until I could feel her entire body yearning for it. But even then, I decided that she would wait a little while longer.

  Now my hand was stroking her inner thigh once more, but this time, I brought it closer and closer to her sultry lips, those secret pebbles that radiated heat; I could feel that heat on my knuckles as I took a single finger and traced the edges of those lips, back and forth, ever so lightly, until at last, but only once, I allowed two fingers to graze over her slit, from inner lips to stiffened clit.

  By then she was as wet as when I had last ventured down there and just as breathless. She shut her eyes, extended her neck, pushing her head back into the pillows, where it began lolling as if she were under a trance.

  In her pleasure, she had not forgotten my cock, a generous lover I had found her to be. She took care of it diligently until my own pleasure heightened to the point where I could not hold back any longer.

  My hand came to a stop and there, they got to work. I slipped two fingers inside her and she gave herself up to the sensation I inspired, throwing both hands up over her head, her body squirming in the bed.

  That was when my mouth took her other nipple. I nibbled gently but then forgot it as I kissed the skin between breasts and belly button. As I did with my hands I now did with my mouth; I kissed all the right places; her pelvis, her inner thigh, slowly making my way towards her wet pussy.

  With two sleek fingers, I parted her delicious walls, brought my mouth to it as I had done before, pushed my tongue steadily over her loose flesh while delighting in the taste.

  Her clit was as hard as a rock before I had even touched it with my tongue. But when I did, her entire body shuddered with violent charges of bliss that I could sense radiated through her entire inner being. The fact that she was now softly whimpering, confirmed to me what I already knew; she was ready for the main event.

  My mouth relented. I rose my head and what I saw, was her back arched above the mattress, her head digging further into the pillows while the bottom half of her body wiggled. I did not waste anymore time.

  I pushed myself up and came to her so that mine was the face that looked down on hers. She had barely opened her eyes to see me before they were quickly shut as my cock entered her, making her gasp.

  The first couple of motions were slow, steady, while I got comfortable. Afterward, I piled deep into her with quick and precise thrusts. Her legs by then were wrapped tightly around my hips, her hands holding on to my back, those long nails of hers that might as well have been claws, were digging into my flesh the faster my pelvic thrust continued in its deliberate assault.

  Faster and faster and faster, until I felt a tingling in my balls that told me the time for ultimate pleasure was at hand. But not just yet.

  I opened my eyes and saw that on the woman’s face was an expression like one who was experiencing some measure of pain. Her eyes were shut in earnest, her mouth wide open, her breath seemingly stolen away.

  “Yes, yes!” she moaned.

  My thrusts were now a motion of eagerness instead of rhythmic and my seed blasted inside of her just as she screamed, her back hauled up from the bed once more, arching like a cat, her head thrown back further against the bed so that her forehead made contact with the headboard.

  I eventually collapsed my full weight onto her but without dislodging my penis from inside and for what seemed like hours, days, the two of us lay there, catching our breath, the woman’s body shuddering ever so often.

  I rolled over finally and for another extended amount of time, the silence grew between us as we stared up at the ceiling.

  “My African Queen,” I said.

  Chapter 2

  Right, this is how it all started.

  I booked myself into the Broken Rose Hotel; a high-end five-star resort for the rich and sometimes famous. It was an establishment that drew to it, the high and mighty, the flashy businessmen, eccentric billionaire, those who’d like to think when entering through the hotel’s lavish foyer, that those who watched them do so, believed the woman hanging on their arm was actually their wives.

  Sure!

  What the Broken Rose Hotel also seemed to attract, at least in my father’s case, was the notion that such resorts would be the perfect location for a family reunion. What I had come to suspect, however, was that this notion was merely my father’s way of saying,

  “Sorry, son, that I forgot to invite you to my wedding with a woman I hadn’t even told you I was dating.”

  Yes. My father, during one
of his many ‘business’ trips, met a woman who apparently was so irresistible he could not wait to marry her. And so, they married the shit out of each other and according to my father, had done so as a spontaneous elope in which there had simply been no time to send out invitations.

  Sure, dad!

  “Listen, my boy,” he’d said coaxingly, during our most recent phone call, which had taken place about ten minutes ago, while I paced bored in my hotel room.

  “You must believe me. I would have enjoyed my son being there but you know how I get when I have had too many drinks. But now listen, did you book yourself into the penthouse? That is where I and your new step-mom will be staying and we want you with us. It wouldn’t be much of a family reunion if you were not there.”

  “Sure dad,” gritting my teeth. “I definitely booked myself in the same room as you and your newly beloved.”

  There had come a pause in his response. “I am detecting sarcasm.”

  That was when I had lost my templar. “Very perceptible of you, goddammit,” I seethed. “Of course I didn’t book myself into the same room as you! Do you really think I want to hear you two carouse and listen while you try and break your 25-second record beneath the sheets!?”

  My father had chuckled at that last part and sounded very amused when he said,

  “Alright son, perhaps you’re right. So then which floor did you book?”

  “Two floors down.”

  Again, he’d begun to chuckle. “Well if you didn’t want to hear your old man break records, you should have gone at least three floors down.”

  It was then that I hung up the phone to the sound of his booming laughter and so to prevent myself from breaking stuff while caught up in my utter annoyance over my father’s audacity, I decided I might go outside and have a swim, or perhaps, see what pleasures my eyes could take from those who had a similar thought.

  But my eyes got more than they had bargained for. The elevator I was presently standing in finally reached LEVEL 0, and while wearing flip-flops, a freshly pressed white button-up that was rolled up to the elbow, red shorty-shorts that revealed my athletically built and sun-tanned legs, the woman I was presented with, when finally the steel doors of the elevator opened, appeared less casual, much more fabulous and immediately enticing….

  She was a black woman, an African queen come down from her throne in order to lure us mere mortals away from our most pious and moralistic proclivities, to grant only the worthy, their deepest and most depraved lustful fantasies.

  She was wearing a wide-brimmed hat, slashed in gold, her eyes covered with big black sunglasses. She had a full mouth, lips so goddamn delicious it would have been enough to keep me staring at them. However, I couldn’t help myself. My eyes wanted more.

  Adorning her neck, was a golden chain that was elaborate but not extensively so, simply denoted elegance and wealth while taking none of the wearer’s femininity. The chain hung just above the cleft of a robust cleavage, revealed by a low cut white business suit that was more fashionable than sophisticated, its sleeves stopping halfway across her arm, the suit itself stopping just above the waist where a thin line of brown flesh was exposed.

  Her white suit-pants were so tight, the material so thin, I immediately felt my throat go dry while the elevator’s temperature suddenly picked up. Those pants squeezed around a voluptuous form, dropping first from wide hips, then thick thighs, lean calves until finally, stopped around thin ankles.

  My eyes, completely bedazzled, rose from her golden high-heels and journeyed back up to the inverted triangular shape in which her pants made between her thighs. I almost sighed in despair at the sight. From there, my eyes rose higher; to her waist, breasts, neck, face.

  When my eyes found hers again, I smiled dashingly.

  The woman took off her fancy sunglasses, regarded me with big black eyes that revealed nothing but a notable indifference, which to me, made her that much more attractive, as if she were out of my league.

  Sure!

  She walked inside the elevator. I walked out.

  The next time I saw her was about an hour later. I was still laying by the poolside, enjoying the sun, as well as the view of countless half-naked woman strutting about in their bathing suits. They were all Caucasian, long-legged, with small, but firm butts, their breasts supple, their demeanours flaunting, reveling.

  But then my African Queen appeared and again, she came out wearing a wide-brimmed hat, shades covering her eyes. Her hair had been done up earlier, kept hidden but now, she had let it all fall; a black tide cascading past her shoulders, down her back, over breasts that were so large, so voluptuous, they mocked the attempt in which her red bikini bra made to keep everything in place.

  All other temptations of the eyes suddenly became obsolete, nothing more than a fading memory. Deep inside my gut, I felt a tingling sensation; and by gut, I mean my balls.

  The African goddess strode towards the pool, her breasts bouncing ever so slightly, her thighs too, which drew my gaze and held them to her red bikini bottom; a tiny piece of material that again, was in the shape of an inverted triangle, my favourite shape, pointing downwards and walled in by the same meaty thighs I longed to smother my face between.

  I watched her dip a toe into the water and with a quick jerk, she ripped her foot back up, causing another ripple effect throughout her luscious form. But due to her current angle, my eyes got to enjoy too, the swelling proportions of her rear and how her left butt-cheek enveloped the red string that delved deep into her crack.

  Beneath my shorty-shorts, there came a rousing of pleasure and by the time the woman came around the pool, passing me, I found I had been holding my breath and that unbeknownst to me, was that I was also fully erect.

  I wanted her. I wanted her badly. I wanted to taste her, to feel her, to feast upon her. But reality hit; I had a strong feeling this woman would not be too easily swayed by my charm, my physical appeal that I had always used to get what I wanted from women like her. Somehow, I suspected this woman required more than that before she would let me inside of her. I had to work. And I would. But in the meantime… I glanced down at my boner… Something had to be done about that.

  Chapter 3

  There came a splash when some idiot showing off, decided to jump into the pool. I felt light drops hit my skin when I turned my head to look at who occupied the tanning chairs next to me. On my right sat a woman who looked to be in her late thirties, a woman who gave me the impression of old money.

  She appeared to be in tip-top shape, auburn hair tied up in a thick knot above her head, shades covering her face; she lounged beneath the sun as if getting off from the hot rays that beamed upon her skin; one leg stretched straight, the other held up slightly, where I saw a sheen of light spread across her thigh.

  There my eyes glided up towards her white bikini bottom. My eyes rose higher, past her waist until they came to rest on her breasts.

  Too saggy.

  I turned to evaluate the potential on my left but what I saw, encouraged me to look beyond, for the woman laying on the chair, soaking in the sun, might as well have been the mother of the woman laying to my right; she was old, wrinkled, but dressed like she was in the prime of her life. Her skin sagged, dipped from her bones. Instead of drawing away from how pasty was her complexion, the light blue colour of her bikini rather enhanced it.

  Gross.

  But then my eyes had fallen upon the one laying on the other side of the Coffin Dodger, a woman that fitted the bill. Luckily for me, the chair next to her was vacant. I got up, suddenly wishing to change seats.

  I lay down and after getting comfortable, I turned my head and locked eyes with the beautiful blond who was tall and lean, her body extending for days towards the pool, her purple bikini flattering her tanned skin and though she was no African Queen, I wanted to climb inside her all the same.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hello,” the woman said back, after turning her head to face me. She gave me a look that
was full of scepticism. But what lady didn’t when greeted by a random man?

  “Do you like dresses?” I asked her.

  She took a moment to study me until finally, with some measure of hesitation and doubt, she replied,

  “I do.”

  “I would love to buy you one… one day.”

  The woman frowned as if finding the statement odd. “Oh yeah. And why is that?” She asked.

  “Well,” I began. “because I’d like to see what you would look like without one on.”

  And that was all it took.

  I had her in my room ten minutes later and after pouring us both a drink, I waited until she’d had a couple of sips while admiring the view from my balcony before I put my glass down and came at her from behind.

  I wrapped both hands around her waist, brought my lips to the nape of her neck and dropped light kisses over her skin, her scent enfolding me in what felt like one of those erotic dreams I used to have as a child, where nothing but her smell, the prospect of her naked body on top of me, seemed real.

  Between the incline of her butt-cheeks, over the purple thong that passed these days for a bikini bottom, the length of my fully erect penis pressed against her, growing harder the closer I leaned into her body. I guided my right hand down her waist until the tips of my fingers slipped beneath her bikini, where I used a finger to trace lines around the frame of her vagina, touching lightly the outer rim of her now wet pussy while my mouth rose to her ear. There I nibbled. There I felt her body shudder.

  She suddenly gasped, then dropped the glass in her hand. Before the crash and shattering of glass was heard, she’d quickly turned and attacked my mouth with hers. My hands were now cupping her face. Her hands were busy elsewhere: one stroked the length of my penis over my shorts, the other glided newly manicured nails over my pelvis.