Neglected Stepmom Takes Creampies

The house was quiet, the kind of expensive suburban silence that only came after midnight when the air conditioning hummed low and distant. Vanessa stood at the top of the staircase in a silk robe that barely reached the tops of her thighs, the same deep emerald color as the tiny shorts she’d worn earlier that evening. She knew exactly what those shorts did to the eye. The soft fabric clung to the generous swell of her ass and hugged the thick, smooth flesh of her upper thighs, the ones her husband used to bury his face between years ago before his job swallowed him whole.

Months. Six long months since Richard had last touched her with anything resembling hunger.

Downstairs, the television cast flickering blue light across the living room. Jake was home from college for the summer—her twenty-year-old stepson, now built like a man who spent more time in the gym than the library. Broad shoulders, thick arms, a chest that stretched every shirt he owned. She had tried not to notice. She had failed every single day since he’d walked through the door two weeks ago with that easy, confident stride and a new depth in his voice.

Vanessa descended the stairs barefoot, the cool hardwood kissing her soles. She told herself she was only getting water. The lie tasted sweet on her tongue.

Jake was sprawled on the wide leather sectional wearing nothing but black athletic shorts, one thick thigh draped over the cushion. His eyes flicked up the moment she entered the room. They didn’t go to her face. They dropped straight to the heavy, smooth expanse of thigh revealed by the short robe. The stare was naked, unashamed, and it sent a bolt of liquid heat straight to her neglected core.

She didn’t close the robe. Instead, she walked past him slowly, letting her hips sway, feeling the silk whisper against her skin with every step. In the kitchen she opened the fridge, bending slightly at the waist, knowing the robe would ride higher. The cool air licked across the bare lower curve of her ass.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Jake’s voice was low, rough.

Vanessa straightened and turned. He was leaning against the doorway now, arms crossed over that powerful chest, eyes still locked on her legs like he wanted to bite them.

“Too hot,” she murmured, pressing the cold glass of water to the flushed skin of her throat. A deliberate bead of condensation slid down between her breasts. “And empty. God, I feel so fucking empty lately, Jake.”

His jaw flexed. The bulge in his shorts twitched visibly.

Vanessa took one step closer, then another, until the scent of his clean sweat and faint cologne filled her lungs. She let her robe slip open another inch. The silk whispered against her nipples, now tight and aching.

“I saw you looking earlier,” she whispered. “When I was wearing those tiny silk shorts. You were staring at my thighs like you wanted to spread them open right there in front of your father and sister.”