"I know you want to see as much of your daughter during her winter break as possible, but I already booked a get away cabin ski package for Valentine's day."
"Well, I'm sorry it is the same time. Tell you what -- phone the resort and see if she can come along. That will be even more fun than Christmas - without the distraction of a bunch of other kids around, we can really have family time."
My heart sank, then did a few gymnastic moves in my chest. My brain was playing cinematic flashbacks of my first encounter with my stepdaughter on Christmas Eve, or more properly the wee hours of Christmas day, of her kissing me under the mistletoe; of making out like we were teenagers - though, at eighteen, Emma still was one - of her playing with my cock; her first time touching a real one. Then she had taken me in her mouth, sucking me until I exploded. I had wanted to return the favour, to taste her virgin clit, but she had been in a hurry for me to deflower her, right there on the floor by the Christmas tree. I still owed her that cunt lapping, and still had hopes of taking her anal virginity, but the hustle and bustle of her short Christmas break had kept her too busy for alone time with her stepdad. We had discretely texted and chatted since -- I knew she was saving her ass for me, though she was fucking college boys, and had sucked one prof. What I did not know was whether her Mom had found out about my taboo infidelity. If it wasn't bad enough that I cheated, I had to do it with her daughter.
My heart sank every time I realized the trouble that might cause. I love my wife. Plus, she is my boss in her Dad's company, and in this economy, I did not want to lose my job and have to start over selling odd lots over the phone or worse yet, a jobber hustling product from gas station to corner store.
My brain understood logically that Emma likely would come home for the summer, but my lusty devil in the base of the brain rationalized that summer offered the perfect combination of space and opportunity so that I could find time to fulfil my unrequited desires, but avoid situations where my transgressions might be revealed. A week in close quarters in the snow country would be just the opposite -- all the desire would bubble to the surface, and was likely to explode at the worst possible moment.
I had no chance though to avoid the disaster - my wife wasn't leaving the room until I called the lodge. Then when they said that they were sold out and no two bedroom units were available, she told me to arrange an extra ski package for Emma, who could easily sleep on the couch in the cabin. She's the boss. I did as instructed.
As soon as I hung up the phone though she saw my pout and asked what was wrong.
"I had planned this as a romantic interlude," I covered up. "Tough to do that with Emma around."
"There will be a wall between our room and her, and a door on the bathroom. Plus I'm sure she'll find lots of kids her age to hang around with. We'll have lots of opportunity."
Her eyes travelled downward at that moment from my face to my groin, where she immediately noticed the erection that I had grown recalling my experience with Emma, which had solidified even harder when my wife spoke of fucking in the shower with Emma just outside.
"Someone is still excited," she purred kittenishly. We had been fuck buddies for years before getting married, and she had lost none of her enthusiasm. Leaning in toward me, her lips met mine as her hand stroked my shaft through my sweatpants. While her tongue wrestled its way inside my mouth, pushing past my teeth, she moved her hand up to caress my hairy belly, and effortlessly slid inside the waistband of the sloppy Saturday sweats, cupping my hardness in her palm.
I could feel her braless nipples rock hard against my chest, separated only by our thin T-shirts. I was glad that her face was flush to mine, because I was sure I was blushing at the mental comparison of how that sensation so closely matched a moment with Emma, while she still had her nightshirt on. The recollection had the benefit of making my balls tighten up against my taint, and my helmet swell, my piss hole gaping open, leaking pre-cum onto my wife's hand, which felt so remarkably like her daughter's.
My hands grasped her shirt on either side, ready to rip it if she didn't stop kissing long enough for me to remove it. She would need to break the lip lock anyway, as I was determined to taste her nipples, to kiss down her belly, and eat her clit.
My wife, however, had other ideas. She took a half step back, still holding the kiss, but angling her body, and then she moved her mouth, licking down my throat, lifting my shirt to bathe my chest in her saliva, planting a forest of tiny pecks around my navel. The entire time, her fist pumped my shaft. I ached so urgently that only the tightness of her grip held me back from premature ejaculation.
One deft twist of her wrist exposed my groin fully to the air, but in an instant, her mouth danced through my hair and bounced up over the top of my cock. Her tongue flitted around the rim at the bottom of my swollen head briefly, more confidently than anything Emma had accomplished in her maiden efforts. My wife licked up all the seeping precum, and teasingly stabbed the tip of her tongue right into my opening, a trick she knew I enjoyed.
She was so expert that, in that moment, I wondered why I had ever considered risking loosing her for Emma's tentative talents. Which thought exploded in my mind as my wife's mouth closed over my cock head, her lips sliding effortlessly along the silky outer sheath of my shaft. One flick of her fingernail against my scrotum triggered my seed to explode, flooding her mouth with great gobs of goo. Her fingers stayed busy, kneading my balls, milking all of my seed up and out my shaft, her lips remaining tight until my spasms reduced to trickles. Then, she opened her mouth, leaving my shrinking cock head laying on her tongue, letting me watch as she caught the final gasps of my climax, lapping up the seepage.
With a huge grin, my sperm glistening on her teeth, my wife sat back up and grabbed handfuls of my hair, pulling my mouth to her lips, sharing my seed between us. I remembered the first time she had done that, in a coat check room at a sales convention, how she had broken the kiss and whispered, "sealing our love", just as she did now.
This time, however, I felt a surge of guilt at having been blown by her teenage daughter. The first time she had said it, she had giggled afterwards and assured me that she was just kidding, that 'a blow job is just a blow job' and she knew the difference between love and lust. We had not been exclusive for quite a while. I wondered how she would react if she found out we were not exclusive again.
"Don't worry, honey, it will be fun," she said, feeling my fretfulness, but misinterpreting it. "Emma is a good girl. She'll have fun too."
Just what sort of fun Emma would expect was my worry.
