Gage knew he shouldn't be where he was.
He'd come home from college for the weekend to have his laundry cleaned and touch base with his home town crowd. Since he attended a community college he could zip home any time, a half hour ride even in heavy traffic. He'd expected to walk in, start the laundry process going, then raid the fridge, where leftovers aced dorm food any day.
What he hadn't expected was to find himself alone with his step-mother, twenty years younger than his father's 55, in better physical shape than anyone else in the family, raring to jump his bones, ride his boner. She'd touched, smooched, hugged, rubbed against, and otherwise flirted with him for the past year, ever since his father had married her.
His own mother had divorced his father and ran off with another woman. Dad's friends and coworkers mocked him over that. His landing a sexy younger second wife shut them up, mostly. Some still wondered loudly enough for him to hear whether this one was going to elope with another woman, too, but most dropped it.
Jokes wear out like cheap carpets, Gage knew.
Still, he shouldn't have been where he found himself. His cock, harder than it had ever been, probed deeply into his step-mother's locked pussy. Her Cleopatra grip held him tightly, squeezing, rippling on his shaft until he didn't think he could hold back much longer.
"Go ahead, fill me with your come."
He shivered, a jolt of excitement tracing sharp fingernails down his spine. Letting go meant risking pregnancy. Did he want to put a baby into his own step-mom? She wanted it, badly. "Your father can't do it, honey, but you can. Oh baby, you can fuck a baby into me right now."
He felt a tingle in his glans, like a little dog being chucked under its chin to make its tail wag. His tail clenched, prostate tight now, preparing to spurt semen into her depths of lust.
They lay on the butcher's block in the kitchen. His snack had gone nuclear when she walked in from the pool patio wearing a bikini. Hadn't taken long for her to be naked, pressed against him, guiding his hands and kisses. Before Gage knew it, he'd hefted her onto the butcher block, knocking off a set of knives in the process. He jumped up, leaned over her, and was inside her before conscious thought kicked in.
Thrust after thrust, moan after grown, pleasure swelled toward bursting.
Her tiny squeals as her belly clenched again and again mixed flares of heat and chills of forbidden passion through him. Gage sighed and let go, let himself flow, poured his come into her hard enough to fountain from her opened lips, or so it seemed. Through his seven spurts her inner muscles milked, twisted, and wrung him dry.
His muscles went lax and he flopped onto her.
She grunted at his weight, kissed, then nibbled his throat, moaned. "So fucking good, oh baby."
A rattle of brass knob, creak of hinge, whoosh of door opening slashed panic through Gage, who couldn't move. If he stayed still maybe he wouldn't be noticed.
