J. McNab: The eager stepmother

She withdrew her mouth from the slippery shaft, stared up into the frantic face of the boy as her fingers replaced her mouth on the shimmering, throbbing prick. "You must always let me do this for you, darling," she whispered, clutching the balls more firmly so that the wet, hot cock seemed to reach all the more. "I'll make him strong and powerful just like your dad's." She opened her mouth and placed it lovingly over the writhing, jerking cock.

Almost at once, Steve's hips went into a convulsive series of wild jerks. He had no idea what his father's cock looked like. It was probably six inches at least and twice as thick. Then he had a vision in which he saw Robin doing this to his father's cock, and he could no longer contain the boiling jism which was simmering in his balls. He tried to cry out, and his hands flew to her head, his fingers grappling wildly in her hair as he tried to warn her. But then his hips began a rhythmic churning back and forth. He cried out once, the cry fading in his throat as the taut little muscles in his cock finally gave up. Then he just hung on, trembling and shuddering under the onslaught of his orgasm.

To Robin Birks, her stepson's final release was the only approval she needed from the boy. For one fantastic minute the slim column of cock had extended itself fully into her hot wet mouth. She was still fascinated with the fact that she had so much room left in the cavern of her mouth. So much, in fact, that her tongue could do anything to the intruding, quivering prick. But then it was hardening even more, stretching itself hopefully under the continuous fluttering of her excited tongue. Five seconds more, as she fondled the hard little nuts more thoroughly and her free hand moved around and over the boy's jerking butt to hold him in place, and the reaching prick spurted the first thin jet of fuck juice. It struck the back of her throat with dart-like effectiveness. That was when she lovingly but persistently licked and sucked until Steve's balls were finally dry.

The following night, in L.A., Scott Birks was paying off the cabbie and appraising Pauline Harper's home at the same time. She had shown him two homes after lunch, and then he had retired to his hotel room to change and clean up, accepting her invitation to drop out for the evening and join her for dinner. Now, as his eyes took in the fabulous home set in its own grounds and far enough away from nosey neighbors, he wondered for the first time just what sort of income Pauline Harper must have to even maintain such a place.

She opened the door before he had a chance to rich mane of chestnut hair, wreathed in a big, fresh smile.

"I see you made it," she grinned, her eyes taking in the muscular chest made more prominent by the finely knit sports shirt. "Welcome to my home."

"Jesus!" His eyes traveled over the expensively furnished front room and hallways before dropping to admire her as she stood smiling alongside him.

"I gather you like it?" She was wearing a full-length hostess gown of bright yellow, which failed to hide her fully ripened tits.

He slipped one arm around her waist without thinking, as they walked through several rooms. "What sort of money buys a place like this?"

She flipped her head back and brushed at the shoulder-length hair with her fingers. "Not that much really. It belonged to a Hollywood starlet who went berserk after appearing in one movie. She made two grade-B movies and ppfft! It was all over and she was bankrupt. My husband grabbed this as soon as it came on the market. A friend of ours bought the two Cadillacs she had purchased, and that was the end of Tanya Toiler."

They were walking through patio doors towards a huge kidney-shaped pool surrounded by white sandstone blocks on which deck chairs, chaise lounges and umbrella tables were casually arranged.

"I thought you might like a swim before dinner," she said, turning her head to smile up into his face.

"I haven't anything to wear."

Her face broke into a wide grin. "We don't really need anything. No one can see."

A jolting streak of lust swept into his balls. All the time he had been getting ready at the hotel, he had tried to convince himself Pauline Harper was merely a real-estate agent hoping to make a sale, and all her obvious charms were merely selling aids to help her make that sale. He squeezed her waist delighted when she responded by turning to face him and put her hands on his chest.

"I was only kidding," she grinned. "Barry, my son, is just leaving and I want you to meet him. He'll have swim trunks you can wear, if you really want to swim."

"I'd love to. The hotel has a pool but I've been far too busy to try it."

"Let me pour you a drink and we can relax."

They drank bourbon on the rocks. It was still very hot even though the sun was fading fast, so that the scorching liquor did nothing to cool his bursting ardor. He thought of Robin and wondered if she felt the same way. Then Pauline's teenage son ambled through the patio doors, his thick mop of reddish hair and green eyes leaving no doubt as to his relationship with Pauline Harper.

"Barry, this is Mr. Birks."

Scott started to get to his feet.

"Don't get up, Mr. Birks." He shook the older man's hand. "I'm just leaving and I wanted to meet you after what Mom was telling me."

Pauline Harper had been staring admiringly at her son. At seventeen he was already a very handsome youth. It was something she worried about with the boy having no father at the most critical age. Yet they both had a very open relationship when it came to sex and worldly things.

"Before you go, Barry, I wonder if you could find some swim trunks for Mr. Birks so that we could have a swim."

"Sure, Mom. I'm sure I can find something."

As he turned to go, Pauline said, "Those knit ones you had last summer would do," a little shiver streaking around her cunt as she tried to imagine Scott Birks in the tight, binding little shorts.

Barry Harper hesitated but a moment, a little smile curling the corners of his mouth very briefly. "Yeah," he murmured thoughtfully, "sure, Mom. The knitted ones."

Later, after Barry had swept out of the driveway in his foreign sports car, Scott Birks walked self-consciously through the patio doors.

Pauline was already sitting up and finishing the last of her drink. "Well," she said, gazing admiringly at Scott's clearly defined cock which was upthrust and brazenly outlined in the thin material of the tight shorts. "Those look perfect. How do they feel?" It was all she could do not to burst out laughing as he tried to stretch the stubborn shorts a little higher.

"I can hardly breathe," he grinned, looking down and examining them himself. He'd had a partial hard-on ever since he had walked into her office that morning. Now the tight unyielding shorts seemed to caress his aching cock and make it that much bigger. He gave up trying to hide it, a little color creeping into his cheeks as he realized she was still admiring his tool, and then he reached for his drink and gulped the last of it. "Want another, before we have that swim?" he asked.

"Sure," she grinned. "Maybe it'll cool me off." She watched the hard, masculine ass and strong thighs as he strode towards the patio door. For the first time she had the feeling this was a man who could fuck her if he wanted. He was fantastically well-hung, and if he wasn't too hung up on that wife back home in New York, she sure could use that eight inches of dick he was flaunting at her.

Half an hour later, she struggled to her feet from out of the chaise lounge. Scott was still finishing his drink and wasn't paying attention. But then she was unzipping the yellow robe and casting it aside. A moment later and he almost choked as she stood, smiling down at him, wearing the briefest bikini he had ever seen; it barely covered the magnificent melon-like tits and the triangular beauty of her perfect crotch.