Late Nights With Stepmom

I never meant for any of it to happen. I’m nineteen, a college freshman who should have been living in a dorm, but money was tight so I stayed home with my stepmom Vanessa, my stepdad Richard, and my stepsister Kayla. The house was big enough that we all kept to our own corners, but after Richard left for a two-week business trip to Singapore, the corners started shrinking.

Vanessa changed immediately.

The first morning he was gone she came down to breakfast in a short silk robe the color of champagne. It clung to every heavy curve like it had been painted on. Her breasts—full, round, impossibly firm for a thirty-eight-year-old woman—strained the thin fabric, nipples already peaked from the cool air. The robe ended high on her thighs, the kind of thighs that rubbed together when she walked and made a soft, whispering sound that short-circuited my brain. She caught me looking and smiled like she’d won something.

“Poor thing,” she said, pouring coffee. “All that young energy and nowhere to put it. Kayla’s out every night with her friends, your father’s gone… You must be so pent-up, baby.”