All characters are over 18. This is a work of fiction, and all characters, locations, and events are imaginary.
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It was a cold and wet evening in mid-December when I unlocked the front door to my home and opened it, to be met with a blast of Christmas music. It was Bing Crosby, as usual, but far louder than I was accustomed to. I'd driven home a day earlier than planned, because I'd finished my finals and was sick of dorm food, and I was looking forward to meeting up with my old friends. And my dad and stepmom were only a few hours away, so here I was, home again.
And there she was. Denise, my stepmom, was wearing the skimpiest sexy elf costume I'd ever seen while decorating the Christmas tree. She had on a tight green bustier and a sinfully short green microskirt, with high heels, white-and-green striped thigh-high socks, and a green fur-lined Santa-style cap. As she bent over at the waist, knees together and legs straight, I knew two things for certain: she wasn't wearing any underwear, and I was going to be on the naughty list this year.
But maybe I should slow down a bit and give some backstory.
Two hundred years ago, my great-great... just kidding. My name's Gerold, but I've gone by Jerry since I was young. I was in my sophomore year at college, pursuing a degree in business. I know, that's generic as hell, but I really didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, and I figured that would open some doors for me as I made up my mind.
I'm tall and thin, a runner but not a weightlifter. And yes, I'm a nerd and always have been. But in high school and for two years in college, I'd had good luck with the ladies. I'm told I'm good-looking, though I still find that hard to believe. I wish I could say I had an enormous cock but the truth is I'm just above average there. Still, I like to think I make up for that with enthusiasm and stamina. But then I imagine most young men like to tell themselves that, so who knows?
My dad, Paul, divorced my mom when I was little. I barely remember her. They didn't part on good terms. He doesn't like to talk about her, but Denise tells me my mom cheated on my dad more than once and broke his heart. Then when they divorced, she wanted nothing to do with me. So I figure, to hell with her.
Dad started dating Denise when I was 10, and she's always been amazing to me. She's the sweetest, kindest, smartest person I know. And yes, before you ask, I've had a crush on her more or less as long as I've known her. But then she's only 15 years older than me, which makes her 15 years younger than Dad. It's weird to think that she's as close to my age as his.
I'd had fantasies about Denise since puberty. I'd always been respectful and never spied on her, though I dreamed of accidentally walking in on her as she showered, or accidentally passing her open door as she changed, or accidentally, well, you get the point. None of those things happened, but I thought about them all the time, and I spent many lonely evenings stroking my cock and thinking about her.
I'm not going to pretend I'm not biased here, but I think she's the most beautiful woman in the world. She has long silky brown hair and bright green eyes that sparkle, and her smile lights up the room. And, yes, she has an hourglass figure and pert firm little B-cup breasts and the cutest butt ever. I'll admit I knew her cup size because I used to go through her underwear. And when I say "used to", I mean that I stopped while I was away at college, but in all honesty I was planning to do that again at the first opportunity.
So yeah, I was a pervert, and I was obsessed with her, but you couldn't blame me if you knew her. Denise moved like a dancer, always graceful and composed and purposeful, and she was always happy. She'd sing and hum and smile at nothing and everything and I'd find myself smiling just being in her presence. I loved her, with all my heart, and she was the perfect woman in every way. I'd dated and been in love, but none of my girlfriends could hold a candle to Denise.
Which made it all the more startling to be looking at her pussy and ass as she bent over and hung a candy cane on the tree. I could see tiny wisps of soft brown hair framing her labia, with what looked to be a neatly trimmed bush above, and her heart-shaped ass was the only present I wanted that year.
I felt guilty, knowing I wasn't meant to see this, this perfection. So I stepped back outside and closed the door softly, then rang the bell and waited ten seconds before I unlocked the door again. Denise was nowhere to be seen, and the music was turned down to more normal levels.
"Hi!" I yelled out to the house, "I'm home!" I had a backpack over one shoulder and a duffel bag in one hand, and I figured my forbidden vision was sadly at an end, so I headed upstairs to my room.
Everything was as I'd left it when I visited over Thanksgiving, of course. My bookshelves were starting to overflow, but I still kept them alphabetized by author. My floor and desk were clean, and my walls had a few Impressionist prints, Monets and Renoirs. I turned on my computer and let it boot up as I started to unpack, and put on some Coltrane, just loud enough to cover the sound of Bing singing about his dreams of Christmas snow emanating from downstairs.
I checked my email then logged into Discord, letting the guys know I was home. Jim and Todd weren't back yet but Dave was, so he and I made plans to hang out the next day. By the time I was done, Coltrane was finishing up with his rendition of My Favorite Things, which amused me when I realized that was arguably a Christmas song, too.
I was a bit tired from the drive, but I was also hungry, and I really wanted to see Denise again. The memory of her perfect ass, of her pussy peeking out between those thin thighs, of the glimpse of her butthole, puckered skin slightly darker than the light cream she bore everywhere else, haunted me. I didn't think I'd ever stop thinking about it, and I realized I was too hard to go down to see her. I tried to think of anything else, anything to distract me, but my mind kept returning to that image, of Denise bent over like that. Not squatting, but gracefully supple and perfectly balanced as she bent at the waist.
Fuck, I was hard. I imagined myself going in instead of leaving, and her smiling that bright delightful smile of hers and unlacing that bustier and slowly exposing her perfect breasts. I unzipped my pants and pulled my cock out and stroked it as I imagined her, and I closed my eyes as Coltrane's sax gently wailed to "Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye", and I reached for a tissue to cum into but the box wasn't where I expected it to be. I opened my eyes to look around and to my horror Denise was there, with the door cracked open and her eyes wide, staring right at my cock.
She shut the door quickly, saying, "Oh! I'm sorry," and in that moment of agonizing embarrassment and arousal I came, spurting all over my pants and my desk and my shirt. It took me a while to clean everything up. I even got some in the damned keyboard. Once I'd finished cleaning and had changed, I headed to the bathroom to wash up. Gathering my courage, I went downstairs.
Denise was wearing a robe and pouring two glasses of egg nog. She looked troubled, which was an incredibly rare event, and I felt crushed. I was such an idiot.
"Hey, Jerry," she said, and held out one of the glasses for me. "I'm really glad you're home. I'm so sorry I intruded like that. I was just so excited to see you. I knocked but didn't wait for an answer, and that was rude and I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me."
