Connie Remarries ch. 1

Connie Melford's first marriage started early in her life - she was 18 - and had
ultimately failed. Divorced in January of her 35th year, she had insisted she would never
marry again, but here she was a few months later at the altar, beaming. Her mother had
spent hours helping her with her golden hair. The bride's skin looked so fair and
youthful. Slaving over her makeup made Connie's otherworldly green eyes even more
beautiful. Her bridal gown was stunning. Her veil - the hand woven one her mother
wore years ago.

Five months after her divorce Connie was marrying Tom Barton, a very
successful banker. She smiled with delight as the tall, distinguished man of her life-to-
be walked down the aisle to meet her. The congregation of the crowded church in this
Boston suburb perspired gallons on this unusually stuffy May Saturday, but the pastor
and the wedding party had their undivided attention. Those assembled, many of whom
had traveled from around the United States, looked on with happiness all over their faces.

Connie wondered at the impulsiveness of it all, but she had wanted to settle down
and hide in security, simplicity, stability – and found these qualities in Tom. She had
dated him for about six weeks and he proposed. It was all so spontaneous, even reckless.
But she was terrified of getting old and he was a multi-millionaire. In the new economy,
he was quite a catch.

For her, during the several months before meeting him, things were a little out of
control. Starting at the end of her first marriage, after years of loneliness and
confinement with a wealthy man who bored her to death, she had rediscovered the
excitement of male attention. This was a late blooming. She had married so young that
the pleasure of dating and enjoying casual intimacy without any responsibilities had
eluded her completely as a young bride.

Since 18 had she been denied the freedom to breathe, living in great houses and
having her time controlled conscientiously by a man made of millions. Like a caged
animal, she reacted. Throughout her first marriage she had found practically every man's
ogling enjoyable, especially from the young ones. When the time came to give up on this
lost union she began secretly dating. She gravitated toward the younger and younger
men, behind her husband's back, and went overboard with them sexually – even before
the ink was dry on the divorce decree.

In that time before she met Tom, she hung out with a lot of guys in their early 20s.
She often thought to herself while she enjoyed the ride: "I am going out BOTH nights
this weekend, with two different hunks from the same health club" She knew this
overdone romancing was excessive and knew it had to stop. And it was probably
deranged to prefer such young men. On a first date she couldn't say no – in fact she took
the initiative, throwing herself at twenty-something boy toys. Necking in public, flirting
with youngsters almost half her age, glorying in the attention when she smiled at
strangers that stared at her curves – it was addictive. So addictive, especially the ones
that were muscular.

But they had no money. She needed a man who was solid, but not so controlling
as her first spouse. She looked at herself going wild and realized that she needed to get
anchored. Tom was her authority figure, an older man to keep her in line.

Today, after the minister proudly lifted their hands into the air and introduced the
now married couple to the congregation, the first one to start applauding was Tom's 18-
year-old son, Jack. The best man looked over at his father's new bride and envied his
***. Connie looked stunning. She and the groom applauded back at the congregation
and her sparkling eyes met her stepson's with joy.

It had meant so much to Connie and Tom that during their courtship she and Jack
had hit it off. When the couple received the best wishes and salutations at the entrance to
the church, Jack embraced his father. His two older brothers did the same and Jack
hugged his new stepmother.

Her white gown was glorious, and Jack shook his head and yelled: "Wow! You
look just sensational!" He kissed her on her cheek. "I'm so happy to be part of this
******." she smiled, and hugged him again. He watched her as she received well wishes
and cheerful embraces from others. He was amazed that his father had picked out such a
beautiful woman. Her natural blonde hair wondrously covered half her brow. It was
aflame with the sunshine coming through the open church window. Her green eyes were
arresting in their attractiveness. She had stupendous curves, and Jack appreciated how
lucky his father was to marry a woman who was so stacked. He had turned on to girls
earlier than most of his friends and had checked out every female in town between 16 and
36 and he had never seen a woman with breasts this large.

Her abundant, rounded boobs dominated the front of her figure. Connie's
wedding gown was sculptured tastefully and perfectly around her bosom and tapered
gracefully down to her narrow waist and ample hips.

Jack stole glances at her throughout the reception. They danced every time Jack
could grab her. His father kidded him about having more grace on the floor than he did.
As the band gushed ballads the 6 foot 4 Jack looked down at her with his deep brown
eyes and told Connie over and over again how stellar she looked. They were comfortable
in a slow or fast dance. What a charmer, she smiled to herself as he wrapped her up in
his long, brawny arms. Her fingers were very pleasantly surprised to encounter thick,
sinuous muscle as she held him on the dance floor.

Jack drove them to the airport the next morning and waved with a big smile as his
*** and stepmom walked to the plane that would transport them to Paris for ten days.
Jack reflected on how different it was going to be with a beautiful blonde woman in their
big house. He just couldn't get over how lucky his father was to win her.

Hours later, as Connie and Tom sat while the 747 traversed the Atlantic she
turned to him and said: "It's too bad we couldn't take Jack with us. He's such a nice boy.
So warm – and like his father, a total babe." Tom sat with his eyes closed, and chuckled:
"that's the third time you've mentioned that since we left. It is our honeymoon, honey,
after all!" He squeezed her hand. "Maybe you should have married him." he teased her.
She said nothing, looked out the window, and tried to sleep.

The day before they were to return from France Jack sat at the neighborhood pool
lifeguarding, thinking of his *** and Connie in Paris. He showed post cards he had just
gotten in the mail to Lemont, another lifeguard and weightlifting-buddy, and Jason,
another denizen of Gold's Gym. "Wow, dude, your *** got a new wife! So this is from
their honeymoon?" Lemont exclaimed, scanning the cards' views of Notre Dame and the
Arc de Triomphe. Jack smiled, and looked beyond the cards, vacantly. "Speaking of
sights, wait until you check out my stepmom." Jack said. Jason asked absently: "Why,
what's her deal?" Jack chuckled: "Natural blonde, beautiful eyes, great body, and the
biggest tits you'll ever see." "Wellllll." Lemont said, elbowing Jason, "bring her out to
the pool." "Bring her to my bedroom." Jason laughed.

Jack thought about how his stepmom would look in the bikini he had bought over
the Internet for her, and how he could get her to the pool so she would display herself in
front of his friends - he smiled imagining at the impact her looks would have on Lemont
and Jason and the others.

Ever since he had first met her, Jack wanted to see her in a bikini. So while they
were abroad he had looked through the clothes she had moved into the master bedroom
and found her bras and her underpants. Salivating, he jumped on the computer and
ordered a red two piece suit for a woman that wore a 38H brassiere and had 40 inch hips.
Finding the swimsuit took some doing, but it came in by Federal Express and he dreamt
about showing her off at the pool. He was going to wait for the right time when his ***
and Connie came home, and give it to her, all wrapped up, as a homecoming present.

Jack told his friends that his *** had hooked up with a woman who wore H cup
brassieres. "I'm serious. Have you ever heard of a woman with an H cup? I thought
triple E or something was about it…" "H cup? Yeah right." Jason and Lemont scoffed.
Just wait, Jack insisted. "I danced with her a lot at the wedding, and they're pretty
fuckin' large." he said soberly.

Tom and Connie returned to the States tired but happy. They delighted in
describing their honeymoon travels to Jack after they piled the baggage and purchases
into Tom's Lincoln Navigator. As Jack raced home, his *** and stepmother buzzed
about the great times they had.

"Jack, now that you've graduated and you have three months before you go away
to school, think about that trip to Europe I was encouraging you to take." his father told
him from the back seat. "It's time for the grand tour, as they used to call the young
British gentleman's trip to the Continent." In the front passenger seat Connie smiled at
her stepson and added, "you should. Soon. Every other sight we saw, we said, 'if only
Jack were here.'" Tom laughed: "Well, you said it dear. Jack, Connie brought you up a
thousand times. Made me jealous." He leaned forward and smacked his son's shoulder:
"I missed you too. And I know she missed you, so I guess my project of getting my new
wife and my son to like each other is successful." Tom sat back and looked out the
window, and added: "Assuming you missed both of us when we were away. I hope so."
Jack unhesitatingly said that he did, very much.

Jack looked in the rearview mirror every minute or so, waiting anxiously to see
his father close his eyes. The exhaustion of the long Atlantic flight caught up to Tom
Barton, and that meant his son could fix his attention on the gorgeous woman next to
him. Jack turned to Connie and said: "I sure did miss you." He saw her return his glance
with a smile. She peeked through the bang hovering enticingly over her face. He kept
staring at her and for an instant she stared back, then looked down. Jack wished she did
not have that navy blazer on over her pink, pleated blouse. Then, as they talked while
Tom napped, Jack said: "Why don't you get comfortable? You look warm. Throw that
jacket in the back." She complied and stuck her fat chest out while pulling out of the
sleeves. He sighed when she absently shed her jacket. Her stepson could not stop
thinking about her body. "Feels better." she said. "Looks better." he smiled.

Immediately after the honeymoon Tom went back to his heavy work schedule,
and that took him out of town or brought him home late most days. Connie was not
expecting him to be away so much. But she was surprised at how she went along with it.
She missed him, but not desperately. Jack's company helped. She was not bored as long
as he was in the house. He was very attentive toward her. He really made her welcome,
even offering to help with her unpacking.

On the second day of her settling in Jack gave his father's bride a tour of their
rambling white Victorian (1895) five bedroom home. Although she had been there many
times for visits Tom – being old school - had resolved to set an example and not have her
over for intimate moments until they were married. Connie had never slept with her
fiancé in his home, an act of virtue she respected – and admired.

As the tour began he took her to the basement. There Jack enjoyed showing
Connie the location of the two circuit breaker boxes in the basement that he had helped
install, and what work he had done with his father to refinish half the basement. He
showed her the quirks in the washer and drier and the spots in the foundation where it
sometimes dripped. As they stepped to return to the main floor Jack made a point of
saying "ladies first" when they came to the foot of the stairs. "Such chivalry." she smiled
as he picked up her basket of clothes from out of the drier, "thank you, sir."

Chivalry was one of his motives. He was impressed with the sway of his
stepmother's behind as it pressed back and forth on the snug orange and red print sun
dress that she wore. It was a treat to stare at the round, generously proportioned cheeks
bumping and grinding.

Connie had very shapely legs and enjoyed showing them off. Her dress was short
and the view of her creamy and smooth looking thighs stirred her stepson's adolescent
energy. As they climbed each next set of stairs, to the second and third floors, and then up
to the second floor of the coach house over the garage, his appreciation of her derriere
and body deepened even more. As they left the garage he said: "Oh, I forgot to show
you the 'warehouse'"

They went back to the main house and climbed again, Jack appreciatively behind
her. He could not get over her sway and her jiggle.

They ended up in the hallway where there was a door about three feet off the
floor, opening to a raised crawl space that led to a vast, L-shaped storage closet. She
peered in through a crack in the door and noticed the low ceiling that opened up to a
larger space. Connie kidded and said: "Jack, this is huge." Then she leaned on his
shoulder and said: "Hey, buster, I've done so much walking up steps and through closets
that I'm pooped! You're going to have to carry me down to the first floor!" "OK, I will,
let me just show you this little attic space here." He opened the half door, which was at
her waist level, and pointed to the entranceway into the crawl space. The crawl space
was at a floor raised to the level of the half door leading in. The entrance was around
three feet wide and two feet high. She leaned and looked in as he pulled a long string to
turn on a light about ten feet into the space. The "warehouse" was filled with boxes and
junk. "Wow." Connie said. She liked standing there with him, grateful to have a chum
around in this big house. Jack looked over her shoulder at her bosom, shaking his head in
disbelief at how huge her breasts were. He wished he had a girl friend built like Connie.
He grew hungry over her soft, musical voice, her large lips, the fresh odor of her
shampooed hair. Her bare shoulders, her chest, her deep cleavage - gave him an erection.

"Oh well, I have to explore THIS." she said, clearly excited at the sight of the
endless assortment of stuff in the space, "but how do you get in?" she asked, stepping
back and looking down at the floor. "We give each other a boost if we can't reach it." he
said. "No step ladder or anything?" she asked, looking around. He had been waiting for
this. "No, you kind of climb in and crawl a little, then you can stand up." "So you'll give
me a lift?" she said, smiling at him, and batting her eyes, "you won't stuff me in there
and forget about me?" She reached up and caressed his face with her hand and smiled at
him, her eyes twinkling. His was such a beautiful face, Connie thought.

"No way." he said, his heart pounding, "shall I assist you?" "Absolutely." she
said, and she let her sandals fall on the oak floor. She reached her arms into the crawl
space and raised one leg so that her knee reached for the shelf of the entrance, and
suddenly she felt a hand on her hip, then a hand in the center of her fanny, pushing her
into the space. "JACK! What's happening?" He heard her jittery laugh and she
screamed quietly as she felt the top half of herself planted inside the space now. The
feeling of his hands on her hips and butt startled her. Jack's hands continued to steady
her as she crawled forward a little. He noticed she did not mind his hands on her wide
hip and her plump butt, until she said tightly: "Uh - OK, I'm in. Thanks for getting me
up!" She could still feel him, then heard: "you sure? You in, Connie?" "Yes, thank
you." she replied. His touch sent a shiver through her. She could not admit that it felt
nice.

She was on her hands and knees and facing in to the cavernous storage area, so
packed with junk that she could barely move. But from where she was situated she could
see a lot. She peered around the corner at the rest of the storage area. The space was just
large enough to permit her to perch there, half of her in and half of her out.

Everything from her waist down was sticking out of the small doorway. She felt
the draft from the open windows on her backside, and tried to reach behind to pull the
hem of her sun dress down to cover herself. But to give her access to see what was
around her inside the "warehouse" Jack had pulled heavy boxes out from in front of her
and alongside of her. She could not move forward much.

Connie thought of backing out and leaving but something told her to let it go. Let
Tom's precocious son peek up her dress – make him see that a gal her age still had a
decent toosh. In fact, she decided to trifle with him and went forward, then backed out of
the entrance way a few times, so that the hem of her dress wound up pushed up further
toward her waist. "Quite a collection in here! So my husband is a pack rat…."

Jack let out a heavy sigh. Most of her shapely and ample butt cheeks were right
out there, divided by the fabric of the black weave, thin, underwear stretched down her
ass crack. Jack stood and stared, enticed. Was she doing this on purpose, he thought, his
system revving.

He fought the impulse to grab her flesh, to pull her panties down and squeeze her
behind, and fuck her.

The skin of his stepmom's ass was smooth and tight. She looked back at him
only once and caught his eyes fixed on her big ass. Connie impulsively moved to cover
herself but decided to be a little naughty and let it hang out there. He moved to inches of
her, and could not believe his luck. "Be right back." he muttered.

He reached down behind a cabinet in the hallway near where he stood and
grabbed a video camera, charged and ready, left there early that morning. He had stashed
it at the same time he removed and hid the mini-stairway his father and he used to step up
on to climb into the "warehouse." He pressed "record" and let the tape run, his eye
careful to frame her bubble butt for his later viewing.

Connie chatted through the space, asking questions about this thing or that as she
surveyed the "warehouse".

This trifling with her stepson reminded Connie of her show-off behavior that she
really enjoyed during her very physical affairs with young men. Just before she met his
father. Men just a few years older than Jack, boys like him really. So Connie decided to
keep her butt on display. She saw how her son in law appreciated women, and how he
checked out her body. She smiled when he admired her breasts and her legs, and the
clothes she wore. She had imagined him watching her behind, finding it attractive.

It was all natural. She was an attractive woman and why pretend that Jack did not
notice her body? She liked his admiration. A lot of women wouldn't admit it but they
really liked young men, and liked that admiration that young men gave them. So after a
silence she asked insincerely: "You don't mind if I keep poking around in here, do you,
honey?" "Oh, take your time." he said cheerfully, raising his voice a bit to compensate
for the guilty pleasure from surreptitiously taping her ass from all angles. The sight of
her body sticking out at him was driving him a little crazy. He knelt down to get a shot
from below of her butt protruding out over him, with her legs tapering and her feet
dangling over the edge of the entranceway. He zoomed in toward her crotch, then stood
at the side and caught the profile of her fat cheeks. He unzipped his fly and pulled out his
long dick, and taped himself aiming his hard prick at her ass crack. He jacked himself.

She knew he had to be staring at her ass and so she asked very routinely: "Jack,
could I ask you a favor?" "Sure." he said. He heard her go on: "…..I can't believe I have
a MAJOR cramp in my leg from climbing up here. Could you grab the side of my right
leg just above the knee and just below the knee and rub it firmly? I can't reach behind me
because of the boxes." He almost dropped the video camera and stepped to her behind,
moving his hand to her bare thigh. It felt great. "Like this?" he said. Connie was
surprised at how refreshing his touch was. She stifled a gasp and said: "that's it." His
hand worked her thigh and roamed to the underside of it. She would have protested but
was enjoying his caress too much to even speak. Jack put his hands on both of her thighs
and caressed them, "how about both legs?" "It's the least you can do after making me
climb all these stairs." she laughed..

This touching made him so horny he could hardly stand it. "You can stop that in
about five hours." Connie said, blushing from the sensations she was not controlling well.
Jack moved the video camera so that it taped his massaging of her leg. "So this is
helping?" he asked her. She could not lie: "that really helps, Jack." he heard her say
softly. She had stopped looking around in the closet and closed her eyes, savoring his
touch. "I'm going to use just one finger, OK?" he said. He redirected the camera as it
perched on the ridge of the crawl space, and he moved his body closer to hers. With some
effort he took his ******* cock in his hand and rubbed it against her thigh. Connie felt his
"finger" with pleasure, but it seemed to roam back toward her keester, and she wanted to
tell him to stop. But she didn't. He noticed she didn't.

He was out of control and rubbed his hard prick against his stepmother's lush
thigh and the edge of her buttock. The video camera jiggled recklessly. The nerve
endings at the ring of his cockhead radiated pleasure through his crotch. Jizz dripped
from him. His dick was raring to go. He tried to keep it on the edge, working his rock
solid tool slowly back and forth on her cooler, smooth flesh. "See anything antique-y in
there, Connie?" he asked. She said yes, and they chatted idly about what junk was in
there. His impatient prick traced lines on her thigh and ass.

Suddenly he lost it and his balls boiled over and emptied in rockets of cream. He
shot his warm jizz all over her hip and buttock. He stood there and milked his cock,
almost collapsing from the shudders throughout his body. He stroked his big dick and
stared through misty eyes at the semen running down her ass.

Good God, his stepmother asked. She felt the feeling of warm liquid on her
behind and hip. "Uh, Jack, what was that?" Connie asked, swiveling to turn around, but
stuck in her place in the doorway. He panted, "oh sorry! I spilled some water I was
trying to drink while I was giving you that rubdown." He hastily got rid of the minicam
and took his shirt off to wipe his cum off of her. "Sorry again!" he yelled.

She was confused: he spilled water on her? It seemed like he had masturbated –
is that possible? No, she thought, that would be too - - - weird. He helped her out the
same way he helped her in. "So you still want me to carry you downstairs?" he asked, his
leaking dick making a spot on his shorts. "No, I was just kidding, thanks Jack." But he
picked her up anyway. "What are you doing!" she laughed, uncomfortable, startled, her
face inches from his. He loved the smell of her. "Jack, I'm going to tell your father!
You're going to be in trouble!" She gave up protesting by the time they reached the first
floor and said to him quietly when he put her down, "you ARE strong, sir. Mr. Muscles,
thanks for the ride." Then: "I won't tell Tom about this – he's too out of shape to carry
me."

The next day Jack surreptitiously taped his stepmom from behind as she walked
up the stairs, and the next day after that. He taped her bending over in the ****** room,
and used close ups on her chest and her ass. She watched television one evening sitting
in reverse on a straight back chair and he taped her voluptuous fanny bulging lusciously
and hanging over the seat. He brought the minicam out one morning and he interviewed
her about the honeymoon, then when she looked away he zoomed in on her chest.

He asked her a couple more times about more exploration of the warehouse but
she declined.

Connie had to admit that she liked wearing tighter clothes and that she had moved
that chair around to watch TV so that she could show off her butt. Their mutual
admiration society was turning out to be fun.

Jack took to giving her back rubs while she sat in the ****** room watching
DVDs. One afternoon she showed videos of the trip to Europe and he stood behind her
and rubbed her neck. He looked down at her extra large tits and grabbed his minicam,
standing over her as she gave a rundown on Parisian landmarks. He got her to stretch her
arms behind her and drop them over the back of the couch. "I can do wonders with your
shoulders." he said tenderly as his hands massaged her bare skin. At some time each day
when his father was absent, Jack made a point of announcing "time for your daily back
massage." "Oh, God, you are spoiling me." Connie would say as she sat in the kitchen
or the ****** room and felt her stepson's strong hands work her back and shoulders.
After a few days of this she would suggest it, and turn her back to him, raising her blouse
or T shirt above her bra strap to give him access to her smooth, welcoming skin. He
began to end his back rubs with a kiss on her shoulder blade or neck. She said nothing.
Then he moved to two or three kissed, like one on the shoulder blade, one of the neck,
and one on her cheek. What an affectionate young man, she said. She avoided the
awkwardness of scolding him by kidding him that he needed a girlfriend. "You need to
start dating, sonny boy!" she laughed it off.

At the same time she found herself admiring her stepson's build and handsome
face. Only two days after returning from her honeymoon, she was standing in the
kitchen, looking through the window at his powerful thighs and long, beefy arms as he
sat on the deck, half asleep, the cord of his MP3 player hiding in his thick hair. If I were
twenty years younger….she thought. A little voice asked: what are you doing? but she
saw nothing odd about it. She smiled thinking, as she returned to her cooking: he no
doubt gets the girls' turning their heads.

They had a lot of chats about each other. At a dinner with Tom there, also, she
was kidding Jack about his dating experience in high school. "I bet you've been QUITE
the heartbreaker." Connie said, laughing, and poking her husband with her fingers. She
turned to Tom: "Has he?" Jack grinned. Tom chuckled and said: "Connie, you always
manage to direct the discussion to this subject. You're making me jealous." "Well I
didn't mean to kick a dead horse." she said, and got up to bring in the dessert. She
looked gorgeous in her white cotton top and plaid skirt. Jack looked over his father's
shoulder from the dinner table at Connie's extra large breasts, then stood up and said:
"I'll help you, Connie" picking up some meal dishes. His *** was recounting one of their
excursions on the honeymoon and interrupted himself to say: "Now this is
unprecedented. You're helping to clear the table?" and returned to his story. Connie got
the apple pie and Jack stood next to her and whispered over her shoulder: "you sure look
fantastic in that top." She half turned to smile at him, and said, looking away, "flirt flirt
flirt."

As she returned from the kitchen Jack followed and appreciated the way her skirt
stretched over her hips. They sat and Jack stared at her. Her eyes shifted away, then
returned to his when her husband, still talking, bent over to pick up his napkin, then
walked into the kitchen to refill his drink. "Remember that desk clerk at the hotel with
the terrible disposition?" Tom asked. "Wasn't he a pill?" Connie asked, staring and
smiling at her stepson.

That night Connie lay in bed and just before dozing had a fleeting fantasy of
drying herself after a shower and Jack "accidentally" entering her bathroom and kissing
her. She awoke early the next morning with an urge to make love and woke Tom with a
passionate kiss, rubbing his crotch. They made love vigorously. During their conjugal
moment Connie, just for the sake of naughtiness, had pictured Jack, not his father,
touching and kissing her body. She was surprised at how this electrified their sex.
"You're a horny wife." Tom said afterwards. She later said to herself, "I can't do that
again. That's a little sick." But that night Tom wanted more loving and she made a point
of imagining Jack's cock driving into her body. From then on the sex was good only
when she had this fantasy. And she had one all the time.

Jack could not get enough of his hot stepmother on tape. On the pretense that he
was "making a reality documentary" for school Jack made it a point of taping her every
day. His interviews always revolved around how pretty she was and how amazing she
looked in a particular top or shorts. Initially he snuck in close-ups of her body, but then
one morning he said, taking in her body slowly with the camera: "I am interviewing
Connie, the most beautiful step mom any guy could ever hope for. I just want to say for
the twentieth time how gorgeous and glamorous she is." "Hey, sonny boy, isn't an
interviewer supposed to aim the camera at the face?" she laughed. "Turn around." he
said firmly. "Come on Jack, if your *** – my husband – saw you doing that he would be
a little concerned." "Just this once, turn around." Jack said smoothly, "and stick your
fingers in that amazing blonde hair of yours…."

She turned and did it. She acted irritated but Jack sensed she wasn't really. He
panned the camera from her blonde hair down to her legs. "OK, Steven Spielberg?" she
chuckled. She went back to her kitchen chores despite his incessant taping and struck a
pose for him as she swept out the kitchen. "Your gorgeous stepmother has to clean up, so
I don't know how glamorous I am." She leaned over to change the garbage bag in the
kitchen wastebasket and he zoomed in on her bubble butt. She wanted to say something,
but she decided to play with a him a little. Knowing he was taping her she posed more,
acting like she forgot he was there. So she stayed bent over the wastebasket. Later she
acted like he wasn't there and stretched her arms over her head, or reached behind her
back with her hand as if it were itching her. Or she would bend over near him. Connie
enjoyed showing off and liked to think the young man was getting a thrill from watching
her pose with her voluptuous body. So in suspenseful silences she strutted around the
kitchen, and he sat at the table taping her.

Connie was seeing a lot more of Jack than Tom. In her new life, now that the
magic of Paris was giving way to suburban ennui and Tom was caught up in work, she
was looking forward to her handsome stepson being around each day. She saw that they
were becoming friends. She acted nonchalantly about his increasingly attentive good
morning kisses and his back rubs. But they were something she looked forward to –
more and more. How weird is that, she asked herself. And she found it a little unnerving
for him to come into the kitchen with only shorts on. It was also something she expected,
and she was disappointed when he wore a shirt.

One morning about two weeks she moved in to the Barton house, Jack made his
usual late arrival to the kitchen, clad in cotton shorts only, his imposing physique on
display. "Good morning." he said to Connie, who sat reading the paper at the breakfast
table. He leaned over behind her and and kissed her on one cheek, then moved his head
to her other side and kissed the other, and then pulled her face toward him and gave her a
little longer one on her lips. "Isn't that they way they kiss in France?" he said.

Her eyes stayed on his lips and she said softly, "actually, young man, a French
kiss is two, one on each cheek." Jack said: "really? I thought this was a French kiss." He
pulled her to him again and thrust his tongue into her mouth and held her against him.
She immediately recoiled and laughed: "what the hell are you doing? Haven't you been
out on any dates lately?" "Sorry!" he said, in that bratty adolescent tone that immediately
showed he wasn't sorry. She was blushing and staring straight ahead said firmly: "only
your *** kisses me like that. When the French meet, they kiss each other on each cheek."
Then she turned back to him, "OK?"

She was still in her light blue pattern pajamas. He rested his head on her
shoulder. She was breathing robustly. "Honestly Jack, you are….very…..weird." she
said.

Connie had not put a bra on and her breasts were a bit lower on her chest, but
being unconfined were fuller, spreading out in all directions. He checked out her boobs
and said softly: "I've got to work on that documentary." She smirked. "Now I wonder
what brought that up." He began a back rub. It felt great. She scooted her chair out, and
turned it around, sat back down and leaned forward. His hands reached below her top
and found the magic of her skin. He was dying to roam to her chest. Her ass spread
gloriously over the edge of the chair.

She heard him say in almost a whisper, "hey, just seeing you each morning gets
me inspired to be creative." He kept rubbing. She moved her head to the side. "Very
inspired." he added. Something told her to say: "I have to get dressed." She stood up
abruptly and almost ran to her room.

"So am I gonna get a kiss on each cheek from you every morning?" she finally
asked him with mock irritation. His hands worked her neck and he said softly:
"Definitely." He noticed her closed eyes, her responding to his back rub. "Maybe you
might put a shirt on when you come down in the morning." she said with a feigned tone
of insignificance.

He said: "or you can leave your top off." Her eyes opened. "What did you say?"
she said significantly, hearing only a little anger and more surprise in her own voice.
"Just kidding." he said. "But what did you say?" He said: "I meant it as a compliment. I
didn't mean you should wear nothing at all, just no top." She wagged her finger in the
air: "Watch your mouth, young man. Do you know what your father would say if he were
here?" "He's at work." Jack said, looking at her with a smile, quaking at the hardness in
his prick.

She just stared at him with her mouth open, then stood up and said, sighing: "Are
you hungry? Can I fix you something, smart mouth?" She walked over to the door of the
fridge and playfully shoved him against the fridge door. He said: "is that melon cut up on
the bottom shelf?" "You want me to bend over and see?" she grinned slightly. "Well,
yeah." he said. She bent over, stretching her flower pattern pajama bottoms over her
plump buttocks. He had lay in bed thinking about her bending over like this as she had
other mornings and now he was getting his morning view of her ass. He had watched his
videos of her over and over again.

"It is indeed, young man" she said, looking back at him over her shoulder, "go sit
and I'll get you some in a dish. How about some orange juice?" He said yes and sat. He
stole stares at her bosom, enjoying her braless tits, and cursing under his breath at the
sight of her nipples pressing against the fabric of her top. "You really look great in those
pajamas." he said as she grabbed him a spoon and napkin. "Thank you." she smiled,
shaking her head, "and no, I am not taking my top off." Wow, he thought, she's going
along with this. She's not really disapproving. "I'm not wearing one." he argued gently,
"so if you change your mind, go for it." He stared at her defiantly. She said nothing and
noticed the extra something in his voice. Was he going to be forward with her like this
all the time? It was too strange. If she weren't married to his father she'd probably get
him to ask her out. It was harmless flirting, no big deal. "I'll keep that in mind, but I
don't think your *** would approve."

"He's at work." Jack said, leaning back in his chair, stretching, showing off his
body.

She sat and took a sip from her coffee, her blonde hair half hiding her green eyes.
"Although you do look fantastic in that." he said, letting his eyes park on her bosom. She
raised her eyebrows and looked to the ceiling. "Well, what a flatterer you are, young
man." she said smiling, and shaking her head as if annoyed. Could he see how red my
face is, she wondered.

They talked. She kidded him more about his fresh comment directed at her top.
"Maybe I'll tell your *** about that one." she said playfully. "Uh, no, sorry again. Don't
– tell – my ***." he said, his hands in front of him gesturing to stop her.

She savored his boyish smile and smiled back at him. He moved the conversation
into the subject of his transition from high school senior to college freshman to be.

How thick and black his hair was. Connie listened with increasing sympathy to
his description of how everything in life was changing and how much he missed his
mom. His eyes seemed almost teary. She got up to get the juice carton from the counter
and walked over to where he sat to fill his glass. "I'm extremely anxious about the
future." he said, "I sure miss my mom." She stood next to him, her thigh leaning against
the table, and put her hand on his shoulder. His muscular, smooth shoulder felt good, in
fact wonderful.

"You've got me, Jack, I'm here." she said softly, and began stroking his back.
How impressive was the touch of his solid, virile feeling body. She checked herself,
careful to remember who he was and who she was.

Jack put his arm around her and pulled her into him. His head slowly but surely
settled against her breasts. At last he was feeling the immense flesh of her tits, only a
thin layer of smooth satin away from his face. It drove him wild. His dick stiffened to
the point of pain and dripping. He had her pulled tight against him now, and he said:
"What is an anxiety attack?" "Oh, you don't have one of those, Jack." she said. Connie
tried to conceal the pleasure of holding him close to her. She stifled a sigh again at the
feeling of his arm around her waist, just above her buttocks, and his head buried between
her breasts. He wasn't letting her go, and she didn't want him to. He moved his face
around slightly but steadily, his crotch almost aching. His lust for this woman was fired
up with his cheek now rubbing slightly against her nipple.

She came to her senses and pulled away, feeling a little tipsy from this affection/
She patted him on the back reassuringly. "Feeling better?" she asked. He said yes and
promised himself he would ask her for a lot more sympathy. She made an excuse to
leave the kitchen to give her face time to lose its redness.

Connie went out shopping that morning. She thought about their embrace that
morning constantly, and that deep kiss he had given her. What a dangerous tongue he
had. He must knock the gals out with that kissing style, she thought.

The sight and touch of his daunting shoulders and arms, and that chest that
wouldn't quit, bothered her. She thought about how aroused she became as he rubbed his
face against her chest. "He didn't mean it sexually." she thought. The thoughts wouldn't
stop. Something in her was making her afraid. She was apprehensive about her own
responses.

"This is insane." she muttered to herself, "I just married his father." She pulled in
to the driveway and found Jack on the phone, still clad in only his thin cotton shorts. How
did his shoulders get so amazing?

She fixed a grilled cheese sandwich for him for lunch and they chatted about his
part time summer work at the pool as a lifeguard and his filling in at a local department
store in customer service. She looked very attractive in dungarees and the white jersey
she bought at Versailles. It was too small and the fabric stretched tightly over her body.
The seams of her brassiere cups pressed against her top. After this morning she felt self
conscious about her unusually busty figure, like it was sticking out there and causing
trouble.

He had his video camera out again and was working on his "documentary",
zooming in on her body. As she was clearing their places at the kitchen dinette table he
aimed the video camera directly at her big tits and her ass as she walked away. "So
how's your – uh – 'documentary' – coming along, Mr. Filmmaker?" she said, almost in a
sarcastic tone. She made a point of reaching to an overhead cabinet, her boobs pressing
incredibly against her top.

His horniness ready to boil over, he said: "I'm getting that feeling again about my
future." She held her pose of stretching overhead. She felt like keeping her distance and
said with a sincere-sounding tone of understanding: "Oh Jack, you'll be fine. Think of
college and what lies ahead as an adventure. You're too young to be nervous about
tomorrow." She was feeling very anxious – was he going to ask her to hug him again
like this morning? She felt almost dizzy. Connie began emptying the dishwasher and he
spoke more about his apprehension, then he got up and walked over to her and said:
"Could you hold me like you did this morning? I need you to mother me." He began one
of his back rubs. She really likes these, he thought.

Her stomach slightly flipped a few degrees. She turned and putting on a casual,
cheery face said: "Well, just for a moment, dear, but you and I have things to do..." She
walked tentatively toward him, that feeling inside getting stronger. She pushed him
gently and he sat back down.

Instead of facing in with this chair Jack turned his chair out, and though she
stepped back slightly he pulled her into him, forcing her to step in and balance her hands
on his shoulders, her legs between his spread thighs. He planted his head between her
breasts and pulled her into him. The feeling of his arms around her and his thick jet black
head of hair in her chest got her heart beating. He felt her sigh and moved his head to
face to the left, than the right, causing his face to rub against her body. She cleared her
throat and asked softly: "Do you find this comforting?" Her soft, girlish voice aroused
him even more. Unconsciously, after a few minutes of quiet comments back and forth,
Connie swiveled her body slightly back and forth, making her breasts rub against his
face. Every minute since this morning's embrace now rained on her with excitement.
She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of their affection. It felt so good to soothe
him, be like a mother to him.

How much better this would be with this bra off, a voice in her complained. What
would be wrong with taking her bra off as long as her top was still on? It wasn't like they
were doing something sexual. Her stepson was obviously depressed. The bra must be
uncomfortable for him, she told herself.

"I've got to step away for a second." she sighed, impulses taking over. He looked
at her hungrily. "Hold that thought." she said, her knees feeling like they were giving
out. She walked briskly into the powder room around the corner and practically ripped
off her brassiere. She left it on the floor and returned to the kitchen. Jack could see her
full tits sticking out incredibly, the nipples prominent.

"I love being here for you, you're like my own son." she said with a blush, too
embarrassed by her arousal to look at his face. She practically skipped to where he was
and pulling him toward her. He sensed her eagerness and buried his face in her
unfettered boobs. Her big tits seemed even bigger, more squooshy. He rubbed his cheeks
and mouth all over them and his world was now all breasts. It was making his cock head
moist. Their embrace went on for several minutes more, in silence. They heard each
other sigh.

Jack's right hand moved from her waist to her side, then to her left breast. Connie
jerked a little and said: "Uh, watch the hands…" He froze that hand on the side of her
big tit and his other hand moved under her top and began to caress her back. His blood
raced as his fingers discovered no bra strap. "Remember, I'm just mothering you." she
said, her voice almost in a whisper. He smiled, knowing she was wanting it.

His left hand pushed her into his face and he slowly began to squeeze and feel
her boob. "This is just anxiety reducing, right?" she almost whispered, reassuring herself
more than him. The sensation of his hands on her flesh was really getting to her. She
said other things that were red lights but she let him continue. This wasn't wrong, she
thought. They both have needs. She was bored and lonely and he was depressed about
all the changes in his life.

Now both hands were on her top, working her monster tits. He kneaded them,
cursing himself for his luck. Jack's one hand moved down to her waist and slid under the
fabric while his head roamed over her chest. Connie rubbed against him. Her hands
went to his wrist to restrain him from crawling under the fabric. He stopped, but when
the heat of the moment got her to place her hands in her hair, he began moving upward
again under her top, and grabbed Connie's huge fleshy globe.

It was so smooth, and firm, and spongy. And so amazingly large. He pulled her
top up over her big tits and looked up at them in wonder. He began to suck on them, kiss
them, and she could only close her eyes and moan.

She looked down and saw Jack staring up at her. He had been noticing her
expression of enjoyment, her closed eyes and parted lips. He was sucking hungrily on
her oversized nipple, and she felt his hand squeeze and pull on her fat buttocks, mashing
her boobs against his face.

She jerked away from him and said: "OK! Well, that's that. I've got groceries to
put away." She pulled her top back down over her tits. But he grabbed her hand and told
her to sit. And the authority and manliness in his voice got her to comply. Now he was
standing and she sat, looking up at him, trying to compose herself.

No more "mothering" of her stepson! This was a little abnormal, she thought.

Then Jack moved closer and thought quickly. He said in a comforting voice:
"You look like you're a little anxious yourself. I'm sorry about being such a baby. I
shouldn't have made you stand over me like that for ten minutes." She was struck by his
calm concentration on her. His voice was lower, firmer, more masculine. He was now in
front of her, his large hand on her shoulder, and getting her chair to face him more he said
smoothly: "Let me baby you now." He gathered her into him, her head at his hips. She
said: "That's OK, I'm fine Jack." She smiled at him and his eyes were wide and intense.
He knelt on the corner of her chair, his knee resting against her thigh. He held her there
and she gave in to the feeling of his powerful body next to her. Her arms found his waist.
She then felt something rock solid and thick where he was holding her. She moved her
head and turned to look at the outline of his substantial manhood straining against his
shorts. In its captive state it was aimed diagonally, inches from popping out of the side of
his crotch and into the open, along his thigh.

"I'll give you a back scratch." he said. "No, thanks, I really don't need one." she
said. That was a close call there, she thought. What was I thinking? But his fingers fell
between her shoulder blades and their firm stroking was actually quite refreshing. His
hand found her soft, freckled neck. His fingers tickled the smooth skin underneath her T
shirt. It was a feeling she could not resist. Then he reached down to her front and pulled
the T shirt off of her, wrestling aggressively with her as she resisted. He wadded up the
shirt and threw it across the table.

For a moment she gazed at the bulge inches away from her, fighting the urge to
put her hand on it. Instinctively she resisted that. What am I, a pervert, she thought. But
she wanted to have a few seconds to stare, before he noticed she was noticing a penis that
was much greater in size than Tom's. What would be wrong with resting on it, she
thought, as long as I don't actually touch it. She was old enough to be his mother. So
she shifted her head to face the opposite way and positioned her cheek to rest on his
erection. He responded by hugging her closer and rubbing his dick against her.

"I am so glad we're hitting it off as stepmom and stepson." he said. His hand
caressed and pulled her neck. Sexual desire was overwhelming the teenager. The feeling
of this beautiful, mature woman rubbing against his cock was amazing. He looked up at
something to make her turn away from him and said: "Hey look, is that a cardinal by the
bird feeder?" and Connie turned her neck to see. "Where?" she said. "Oh, guess not." he
mumbled. She turned back to him and there, peaking out of the crotch of his shorts, was
the purple, swollen, shiny, head of his hard cock, about two thick inches of emerging,
rock-hard dickmeat. She was in awe and frozen, and stared at it. It was very large, very
ugly, very rude, very fascinating. He swiveled his hips and watched her stare. He made
it twitch. His rod pushed further out through the side of his shorts.

She found words and said, "I think you need to put something away." but her own
fingers went to it, and wrapped around it. It was so hard, and warm. Oh damn it, she
thought. Her fingers began to fondle his cock. He turned so that his crotch pressed
against her cheek. Connie was in a trance. My God, there are inches of manhood next to
me and there's even more inside his shorts! Her hand glided over the buns of his ass and
he spread his legs to allow her fingers to work their way to his testicles. He grabbed her
arm and moved her hand to the front of his groin. Her fingers struggled to squeeze into
the other side of the crotch of his shorts. They found his hairy balls. She heard him
panting.

Thoughts of how sick and dirty this was clicked in her mind. But she told herself
that this was not sick. She was merely soothing her stepson, distracting him from his
fears about school, his imminent manhood, his adjustment to his father's marriage. Life
in general. Women get sexually excited from nursing infants. And was it unnatural to be
sexually attracted to a handsome, muscular young man like Jack? Did that make her a
freak?

Her other hand pulled more of his fat dick out so that inches and inches of thick
manchild meat were thrusting out of the side of his crotch. Frustrated with the
increasingly awkward of one hand on his balls and the other on his cock, Connie moaned
and suddenly reached for the waistband of his shorts. She pulled them down to his knees.
His monster prick, proudly standing at attention, bounced against her face. He stepped
out of his shorts.

Connie's breath emptied from her lungs at the sight of his nakedness. His hairy
chest and stomach were perfect, etched and layered with wonderful muscles. His groin
was covered with thick hairy blackness and her hands gripped the immense erection.
Jack pushed at her half open mouth with the tip of his dick but she could not go that far.
She stroked his dick harder and harder and looked up at him. Their eyes met, lost in
passion. She cupped his nuts with her one hand and caressed them. Connie slid her
tingling fingers faster and faster up and down his fat shaft of pork. Its stout veins
fascinated her. Her heart was a tympani, pounding and pounding. She found herself
sweating like a pig.

The feeling of her hands jerking him and her fondling was heating up his balls.
After days and days of lusting after his stepmother Jack started as his young nuts felt
ready to open their gates. He arched his back and repeated "oh yeah" as he watched
Connie jack him. He had never felt so good. His dick seemed to be three feet long. Her
hand worked harder and faster, gripping his cock. She heard the sound of whacking of
dickmeat almost reverberating in the kitchen. He thrilled at the sensation of Connie
licking the head of his rod with her tongue. His nuts began to quake in her hand, like
they had a life of their own.

The wickedness of what they were doing made Connie very aroused. I just can't
stay away from these young ones, she thought. Her hair was damp with perspiration.

Suddenly Jack's body jerked against her. His fingers pulled on her sunfilled hair.
He cried out and several spurts of semen jetted out of his body and splatted against her
face and neck. "What the - - !" she yelled. His animal like, hoarse breathing filled the
kitchen. One shot of hot cum rapidly began running down from her forehead and over
her eye. Another, creamy blob of his seed blasted against her chin. He seemed to keep
on ejaculating and Connie felt another warm spurt of cream against her chin, then closed
her eyes as jizz flowed down her fingers. Her fingers began to make a smacking sound
and it blended with his moans and her gasping. Lost in sexual pleasure Jack jammed his
still turgid dick against her face, poking it frantically at her lips. Finally he took it in his
hand and tapped against her mouth. "Suck it." he said tenderly.

As intensely as she had fallen into this evil encounter, as quickly as the good girl
in her put on the brakes. His words were too much for her, jarred her. That's where I
have to draw the line, she thought, grasping for a safety zone. Clumsily she stood up,
knocking the chair over. "We're done!" she squealed, and bolted into the dining room.
A panting Jack watched Connie's plump bottom jiggle as she left and darted upstairs.

She locked herself in the bedroom and stepped in front of the mirror. Her face
was larded with his sperm. Another large glob was flowing down her nose toward her
lip. Connie couldn't help it: she opened her mouth and let Jack's juice run on to her
tongue. She stood there and slowly ladled cum into her mouth. This was so intensely
dirty and evil. Connie was vibrating with lust.

Then came the remorse. What have I done? What if he tells his father? Her
motherly excitement and lapse into physical intimacy were abruptly replaced by a feeling
of anxiety. No shame. Only anxiety over the risk that she would be found out.

She came back into the kitchen in about half an hour, her pulse down to normal.
This, she thought to herself a dozen times, will never happen again. I could get caught.

She forced a grin, acting as if nothing were wrong. "I think you need your mother
to comfort you that way." she said timidly, something inside of her inhibiting her from
speaking assertively. She planted herself in front of him and said: "And Jack, what just
happened can never be discussed with your father." He said nothing, and she saw a faint
grin on his face. "Jack." she said, lifting her chin, "I MEAN it! This is between you and
me." Her words sounded limp to her, unconvincing.

"Sure. Just you and me." he said. He was staring at her, and his eyes drifted to
her chest. "Just so we're clear." she said. She turned and walked away. As exciting as it
had been, it quickly turned into something very wrong. Jack could only think about more
sex with her as soon as possible.

Did he get the message, she wondered, as she went to the basement to start some
laundry. She acted distant and formal with him until her husband came home. This
drove her stepson crazy. And the picture in her head of his erect prick exploding with his
juice revolted and aroused her. How perverted, she thought, shaking her head. That will
never happen again.

Just before dinner Tom called upstairs to his wife: "Connie, how about brats on
the grille? We've got some nice big fat ones in the fridge. Jack, how does that sound?"
His son was in his room, watching the secret videos he made of Connie. He shut off the
camcorder and walked out into the hallway. "Great ***, I am hungry." Connie was in
the hallway hanging pictures she had brought from her home. Jack added: "And I know
Connie is crazy about brats, right Connie? Nice big brat?" She looked at him and
frowned, then cleared her throat and called out to her husband: "Brats are fine. That
means I don't have to cook." "Super." Tom said, walking away. Jack smiled at her and
said so only she could hear: "Nothing like a nice big fat one, right Connie?" She avoided
his eyes.

The next day she couldn't wait to straighten things out with her stepson. As soon
as Tom backed out of the driveway she marched into Jack's room to wake him up. It was
deeply upsetting to her – she felt dirty and ashamed – and she knew enough to be strong
when she steered her eyes away from his hunk physique. It sprawled over the top of his
blanket. She talked at him repetitively until he awakened. "Hello." he said groggily.

"Are you awake, Jack?" After she asked that question twice more and he was
sitting up, she said: "Jack, I don't think I was clear enough yesterday after our little
accident…." He grinned and standing up, said: "Mother me. I need it real bad." "That's
over." she said, using words she had rehearsed to herself that morning, "it was a huge
mistake and if you need that kind of affection you need to go elsewhere, specifically to
one of your girlfriends. You and I made fools of ourselves and betrayed the trust of the
man who is my husband of less than a month – and your father. I hope you share my
sense of humiliation and shame." She hurriedly turned without waiting for him to
acknowledge, or say anything. She called up from the foot of the stairs and added that
she was leaving for town, and that he could get his own breakfast.

She stayed away until dinner. When she passed a young man, she saw Jack's face
and body, and when she closed her eyes while sitting in the parking lot she saw him
inside her mind eye. But she was strong. It helped to be away from his muscles and
thick black curls. Her husband commented on her nervousness when he came home that
evening, and Jack and he commented on her mood at dinner.

That night she and Tom were watching TV and sharing a bottle of red wine.
Connie was biting her nails. A whole day had gone by with Connie successfully keeping
her distance from Jack. Guilt was coursing through her veins. She had spent the whole
day in town shopping and running errands, and running from herself. Yet the recurring
sight and feel of Jack's erect penis was glaring in her mind. Like the most insistent rock
song she had ever heard. She kept drifting to those exciting moments in the kitchen, then
erased them from her mind – until they appeared again.

Lost in these thoughts, she shook her head as her husband roamed the cable
channels. "You need to relax." he said, noticing her nods, "you still seem jittery."
Connie kissed his cheek and said: "Really? I'm OK." "You sure?" "Uh-huh." she said.
She got up to use the powder room down the hall and saw Jack on the phone. They
stared at each other for a moment as he kept talking to one of his girlfriends. No smiling,
just deep eye contact for some very long seconds. She stepped into the power room and
after relieving herself looked in the mirror. The denim overall outfit she was wearing
was too tight on her – she was just very uncomfortable.

A few glasses of merlot had not relaxed her. Her mind relentlessly kept going
back to earlier in the day, to the sight of his king-sized tool bursting with cum. She
leaned on the sink and pulled herself together, then returned to the ****** room to join
her husband. This is crazy, she whispered to herself.

"I have something I need to talk to you about." she said as she returned to Tom's
side. He put his arm around her. "Yes, what is it?" he said, expecting something was on
her mind given her restlessness. He took her hand and squeezed it.

"It's about Jack." she said. Her face must have telegraphed something to her
husband. "Go on." Tom said after she just looked at him, "are the two of you having a
misunderstanding?" "Well." she started, "I think he really misses his mom." "That's
what's on your mind? You seem awfully preoccupied." her husband said. "I just think
he's looking for some motherly affection." she said. "Connie, he sees his mother anytime
he wants, and they're very close. Do you mean he seems lonely for maternal warmth?
He surely gets it. More than ever."

"Really?" Connie said after a moment, gazing at her wine glass. "Don't worry
about Jack." Tom said reassuringly, pulling his wife close to him "he's definitely not an
abandoned son. Marcy sees him all the time and if he wants a hug from her at 2 in the
morning, she'll drive over here and hug him, or tell him he's great or whatever he needs."
"OK." she said, smiling at her husband. They watched a little of "Law and Order." "If
you miss the front end of this show, you're lost." Tom said grinning. Connie's mind
went back to her stepson's well-endowed, smooth body.

In the next room, Jack was off the phone. Sensing something was up, he slowly
and softly had moved closer to their chat and had listened to all of this exchange between
his father and stepmother. Given the subject matter, he had been expecting at some point
soon what he assumed would be a big sit-down with his ***, maybe with Connie already
packed and thrown out of the house.

His extremely angry *** would say something harsh, like "Connie has told me
that the two of you have done something that has gone beyond something that a
stepmother does with her stepson. You have ruined my marriage. Get out." Or
something softer, like, "son, Connie tells me there was an accidental situation today
where you sort of ******* yourself. I know you didn't mean to and you're still adjusting
to a woman in the house, but you have to dress appropriately from now on. This isn't a
bachelor pad anymore."

But what he was actually hearing was a big relief. He was off the hook. So his
sexy stepmom wasn't going to say anything! He leaned back and looked at the ceiling.
This is unbelievable – she had a chance to spill the beans and she deliberately didn't. He
began to scheme and got a hard-on just thinking about it.