J. McNab: The eager stepmother

Robin smiled at the girl. "Be careful," she grinned, watching the teenager's firm, young ass move rhythmically from side to side as Donna went towards the front door. Their relationship had been far more open than a mother and daughter's could ever be, as far as sex was concerned, and she was pleased she had talked the girl into taking the Pill.

"Now, Robin! You know I'm always careful." She flashed her stepmother a wide smile and disappeared through the door.

Robin Birks sat down beside her stepson on the sofa, running her fingers through his thick crop of black hair. "And what are you going to do, young man?" she asked. Her relationship with the boy had been quite different from that she enjoyed with Donna, the boy having taken to her more as a son desperately in need of a mother. Robin put it down to the wider age difference of sixteen years, together with the fact that the boy had obviously missed his mother.

"Nothing," he said, a little despondently. Then, as if it had been worrying him, he said, "Do you think Daddy will ever come borne?"

She gave a short laugh. "Good heavens, I hope so! Then we'll all be packing and flying all the way across the country. Won't you like that, darling?" She tousled his hair, then squeezed him affectionately against her.

"I wish he'd hurry."

A dull ache had settled in her chest, matching an itching in her cunt. The itch had been there for a couple of days, and she put it down to an erotic novel she had been reading each night in bed, and which had done nothing to relieve her hunger for a thick, meaty cock. To make matters worse, Bill Allingham had been called out of town unexpectedly. Otherwise, she could have called on him and Joan for at least one three-way sexing which would have satisfied her for at least another week.

"He's looking at places today and tomorrow," she assured the boy. At the same time she wondered briefly if Scott had already enjoyed a piece of tail. The thought of a strange woman fondling his prick brought a surprising shiver of jealousy coursing through her heart. She had always gotten a kick out of Joan Allingham playing with his cock.

"It's time for your shower," she said, smiling and putting her face on his shoulder, their cheeks just touching. "Then you can watch T.V. and maybe I'll make some popcorn."

The boy's face lighted up. "Okay," he said, leaping to his feet and starting for the bedroom. "We haven't had popcorn for ages."

Robin smiled at the boy's enthusiasm, and followed him down the hall. "I'll get you a bath towel," she said through the crack of his bedroom door.

"Okay!"

It wasn't until she had found a fresh, clean bath towel in the linen closet downstairs near the laundry room that she realized Steve had already forgotten about the towel and was already standing beneath the cascading spray of the shower.

Upstairs, she waited for several minutes outside the bathroom door, the dull ache in her crotch changing to a soothing warmth as she realized she would probably get a glimpse of the boy as he stood naked behind the glass doors of the bathtub. She knocked lightly on the door, knowing he would never hear. Then very slowly, she opened the door and stepped silently into the steamy moist heat of the bathroom.

A quiver ran through her cunt, and startling streaks of ecstasy burst wildly in her tits as her eyes flew to the glass doors behind which she could see clearly the image of his completely naked young body as he vigorously lathered his shoulders and chest. She leaned back against the vanity which was opposite the glass doors, her eyes hungrily taking in his slender, agile body. He had finished lathering and was moving forward into the spray, his head flung back, his curved back and young, firm ass beautifully rounded into a silhouette that made her groan with dismay.

Robin Birks was about to call out and tell the boy the towel was there, but as she opened her mouth, Steve suddenly stepped back. He seemed to adjust himself there for several seconds, and it was some time before Robin realized he was flow standing in such a position that the fierce spray was striking his cock and balls. A moment later, as her free hand swept up to her mouth and she gasped, she found herself watching, fascinated, as the boy proceeded to fondle and play with his prick.

In a matter of seconds, the boy's slender prick had risen majestically into a soldier-like prong. He used his left hand to squeeze and caress the little pebble-like nuts below, his right hand deftly priming the three or four inches of hard shaft into a straining, reaching little cock.

Robin fought back an urge choke excitement. There was no way she could drag her wide, excited eyes away from the boy's masturbation. She found herself hoping the boy wouldn't come, although the way he was going about it, together with the constant driving force of the titillating spray, would be more than even a full-grown man could stand. Then, with a start, she realized she had to do something to stop the boy, and at the same time make sure she herself could share in his enjoyment.

She pulled herself together, cleared her throat and tapped at the glass where he would see the image of her hand. "Steve!"

The boy's hand flew to his chest immediately, rubbing it all over.

"Have you washed your hair yet?"

"N-N-No…" he stammered. "I'm just starting."

He was bending over to reach for the bottle of shampoo, his boyish figure bringing a hot flash of lust to her already aching cunt. When he straightened up, she gave a sigh of relief. The little prick was still boldly upthrust, jerking a little as Steve began to apply the soap to his thick black hair. Her tits were tingling like crazy, just like they did when Scott and she got together with the Allinghams and Bill Allingham would ask her to join him for a dance. They always danced when they visited each other's homes, it being almost a ritual during which both wives were invariably bare-titted by the end of the first dance. From then on, they would stay topless so that either husband could admire and fondle whichever tit he wanted, for the rest of the evening.

To Steve Birks, the sudden presence of his stepmother was disconcerting. By accident, she had caught him naked before, usually when he was getting hurriedly dressed for school in the morning. But this was quite different, and he was scared she had seen him playing with his cock. He rinsed out the soap and lathered again, his mind whirling as he tried to convince himself his stepmother had seen nothing. Then, to his dismay, he found his cock was still hard, upthrust and obviously very excited.

Robin Birks was beside herself with excitement by the time Steve had rinsed off his hair for the second time. Unbeknown to anyone except herself and Scott, the glass doors on the tub could be seen through only from the outside. From the inside, the glass appeared mottled and bubbly so that nothing in the bathroom was clearly visible while one stood under the shower. These trick glass doors had provided Robin and Scott with many moments of sexual eroticism when they had studiously studied unsuspecting house guests taking a shower and who were completely unaware of their hosts' presence. Robin now wondered why she hadn't done this before when Steve showered, her eyes still focused on the straining little cock of the boy as he squeezed the last of the water from his hair.

"I'll dry your hair."

A startled shiver ran down Steve's quivering back. Relief followed as one glass door slid open to reveal his attractive young stepmother standing and holding up a bath towel which he gratefully grabbed, covering the front of his body.

"I have a smaller towel for your hair." She waited until he had stepped out of the tub before proceeding to dry his head of thick black hair.

She was rubbing very vigorously so that he was shaking to and fro, his stiff prick slamming against his belly, and showing no signs of diminishing. Just then he was aware that his face was but a couple of inches from her beautiful bouncing tits which were brazenly outlined in the front of her blouse. Her tits had always fascinated him, and now he realized he could just see the trace of the darker shadow at the vee of the blouse, the quivering ripeness of each tit barely discernible in the curved arcs on either side.