This story Is posted on the Literotica website, Do not repost anywhere else without the Author's consent.
As with all my stories, all characters are over the age of eighteen, this story has a possible incest storyline, although they are not blood-related.
I am not always grammatically correct, so please show a bit of leniency in that regard. If you enjoy the story please leave a kind review, if not, well better luck next time, we all do this for everyone's enjoyment and do not deserve any abuse.
Wow, so that happened, and I'm in so much shit, was my first depressing thought on waking up. I rolled over, opening my eyes, to find my stepmother sitting by my bed with a strange smile on her face. Her eyes were drawn to my morning hard-on tenting the sheets. What the hell? She was sitting there in a silk kimono-like creation that I had never seen her in before, and the way it billowed at the front gave me a look at her small breasts, seemingly pushed up in a satin shift of some kind.
Dear God, that all happened, didn't it? It was the best but weirdest dream of my entire life-no, that had been my life.
"Good morning, Mother; to what do I owe this particular pleasure?" I asked, smiling,"Is it the morning wood police again?", while she just outright stared at the tent in my sheets.
"Oh, hush now Baby, I was just about to wake you up; you have some more jobs to do around the house today before you have to go work for Mrs. Reynolds tomorrow," she said in a sweet, sexy voice. Good god, what has become of my geeky, awkward life, not to mention my bible-thumping, Puritanic stepmother?
"I feel a little guilty for agreeing to all that work without your consent, Baby; Mommy always needs your consent," she said, continuing in the Stepford Wives manner, which, quite frankly, I loved.
You could keep your Bible-thumping psychopath and leave me with this confused, innocent sex kitten any day. I looked over, and she was still staring unabashedly at my tent.
"Ok, Mom, I will be down in a few minutes," I said, softly smiling at her, but she showed no signs of moving.
"I think it's best I wait and remove the wicked temptation of sin from your poor young mind, Matthew," she said determinedly. Hmm, so it was still game on; Mom equals Matthew, but Mommy equals Baby. Interesting...
"But Mama, I'm so hard this morning; I think I may have sinned in my dreams and dreamt of you lying on the couch last..." She interrupted me quickly before I could finish.
"Hush now, baby, Mommy was just helping her boy fight the sins of the flesh, and she will continue to do so," she said, huskily. "There's nothing dirty about what we did." Well, that clears up those worries, I thought, but you have to wonder what her church would say.
Ok, so Mama was as good as Mommy, and quite frankly, not quite as cringe-inducing to me when not lost in the fog of lust. Luckily, the house phone rang, and sighing, she went to answer it.
Just at that particular moment, my mobile phone pinged. Hmm, maybe one of the guys wanted a quick game online before they headed out; they were all mostly going away for the holidays.
A quick inspection of my mobile found my eyes wider than my head and my heart beating faster than was healthy. Mrs Reynolds had sent me a picture of her in the lace-up stockings. The one where she was in a sheer suspender skirt, which gave me a perfect view of her luscious, full ass.
Just then I could make out it was her on the phone, sneaky sneaky, making sure the coast was clear for my heart-attack-inducing photograph. Well, two could play at that game, I thought. I snapped a quick pic of my still unattended hard-on beneath the sheets; it did not show my face or give away my identity, so I sent that to her with a smiley face.
I heard my mother say, "Oh, are you okay, Em? Your breathing went a little funny," on the phone, and I may have failed to stifle a laugh at that. Well then, the game is afoot, my dear.
I walked downstairs to the kitchen in my sleep shorts and T-shirt, sitting at the island with the breakfast cereal in hand.
"Oh no, if my son is busy working hard this week he needs a proper breakfast, what kind of mother would I be if I didn't provide for your needs, hmm?" She asked, standing way too close and ruffling my hair. She did smell good, though...
My hands were reaching out on instinct alone when the front door opened and closed, with my dreaded spoilt step-aunt striding into the room.
"Don't mind me," she said, laughing at the way my stepmother shuffled away, allowing me more space. She did start cooking breakfast, though...
"Really, is it his birthday?" she asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow at the never-on-a-weekday fried breakfast rule being broken.
Standing at just about 5 feet 2, with the same lithe, thin athletic body as my stepmother's, the only differences were that she was slightly taller, her eyes were a haunting pale blue-grey, and her tits were store-bought by her much older, now decrepit husband. He had insisted on augmenting them from an A cup to a quite ridiculous-looking D cup; yes, they were technically the same size as Emilia's but without the natural curves to break up the thinness.
They stood out proudly, jutting from her body at a right angle and making her quite the wet dream. If I ever allowed myself to dream of her in, let's say for argument's sake, a lipstick red satin lace slip with stockings and suspenders, well, I would have the problem I now have, damn it! I crossed my legs uncomfortably to hide my massive boner. Unattended morning wood combined with Aunty's dream wood made for a rather sizeable problem.
"Are you OK there? Mattie?" She asked sarcastically, staring at my thin shorts and the protruding problem.
"Leave him alone, Jane," my stepmother snapped, shocking us both.
"I was just teasing him; that looks to be a rather Hard problem you have there, perv," she added snidely. "Maybe you should go take care of the Problem before you burst," she added huskily, to purposefully wind me up.
"Jane, I am warning you; he is not allowed to sin like that in this house," my stepmother blurted out, embarrassed, as I once again wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.
"Jesus Mary, you can't stop a boy his age from relieving the situation," Aunty said, in my defence, I think, "It could be really bad for his development," once again staring at my shorts.
Holy hell, was I in the Twilight Zone? What was happening in my life? The innuendo was killing me with sheer embarrassment alone this morning.
"I think I'll skip breakfast and just get on with the jobs," I said weakly, trying to hide my erection as I stood to leave.
"You will do no such thing, young man; if Jane can't be civil to my son, then she's welcome to leave." Mom said, staring at Aunt Jane with determined confidence that I had never before seen her use on her spoilt sister.
Jane herself was taken aback by this. Her eyes widened then closed, screwing shut, to try and stem the tantrum we all knew would follow, but somehow she managed it. She always got her own way in everything, but no sane person would take on my Bible-thumping stepmother in a straight-out throwdown.
"I'm sorry, Mary; I meant no harm," she whispered, unused to having to apologise.
"No, Not to me, Jane; it was my poor Matthew you insulted," she said determinedly, her face hard, Good god! And it had sounded difficult for her to say Matthew and not baby.
"No, seriously, I'm all good here," I said, getting the hell out of dodge. I made a break for the safety and sanctity of my room as they glared at each other.
"Matthew Johnson! You will sit your behind back down on that chair until I have fed you," she said sternly, once again sounding like the psycho stepmother I knew and feared.
"I, well, I-I am sorry, Mattie, if I went too far teasing my favourite nephew." Aunt Jane said, walking over and hugging me tightly.
