by Alexis Angel
I finally have a plan. Yesterday….that was just hormones taking over. I’m the master of my fucking domain.
I put on a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt and head downstairs.
It’s still early enough that dad and Jocelyn will probably still be having breakfast.
I walk down the hallway to the kitchen and breakfast nook of the townhouse and I hear voices coming from there.
I step in. Dad’s reading the newspaper and a series of whatever on his iPad. He’s not really paying any attention to Jocelyn.
He’s a fucking fool. Because she’s sitting there in a pair of black yoga pants that barely come up to her waist. And a black sports bra. Literally, that’s all she’s wearing. She’s having a cup of coffee and I look at her bare midriff and her flat tummy and curvy fucking ass. Her tits are gorgeous and my cock, which was getting ready to take a break, is back at being rock hard again.
Fuck.
“Oh, you’re up,” dad says to me as he notices me standing there. “Since you don’t work anymore, I’m going to need your help on my campaign managing social media,” he says.
I stand there watching him.
“We’ll talk about it later. Right now, I need to take a conference call,” dad says getting up and walking toward the opposite end of the kitchen, past the large island and refrigerator and stove. It’s like one of those cavernous kitchens with two entrances, usable by a large staff if needed to entertain. “Once I get done with my call, we’ll talk, Lance,” dad says as he steps out.
Leaving me with his gorgeous wife who’s barely wearing anything.
Fuck. What was that promise I made yesterday?
Jocelyn
This is insane. I’m insane. Lance is insane. We’re all going to Hell.
How the hell was I even thinking I would get away with this?
And what is wrong with me? Putting something like this on? After what I did with him yesterday?
I cheated on my husband. I’ve broken the sacred vows of marriage. I bet that’s what you’re thinking when I talk to you now, isn’t it?
I know you probably hate cheating. I do too. I have a subscription to Kindle Unlimited and I’ll stop reading right there if my story has cheating in it.
At least two days ago, that’s what I would have told you. Because after six months, I forgot what sex tasted like. What it felt like. I forgot what it felt like to have a man want me. And if that man was as gorgeous and hot as Lance, well I would have never comprehended that something could happen like that to me.
Even if we left a bit awkwardly, all day I couldn’t stop thinking about Lance yesterday after what happened at Saks.
I woke up this morning and my pussy was wet from dreams I’d been having. I can still remember them. They’re burned into my brain. How I’m in something cute, like a lacey white bra and panty set, but I’m giving Lance a blowjob.
That’s right. I dreamt of giving my stepson a blowjob. Go ahead. Judge me, ladies. Tell me I’m nasty. I’m perverted. That I’m rocking the cradle. That he’s only 21 and I’m taking advantage of him at 36. That just makes me wetter when you tell me I’m not supposed to do that, okay? It makes the thoughts that I’m having in my head of turning toward Lance and spreading my legs for him to enjoy the body feel even more delicious and taboo.
Fine. I know. I’m sick. I’m twisted. Maybe I could even go to jail, who knows. Although, he’s not really even my stepson. He’s Michael’s stepson—not related to Michael at all. But just the fact that he looked at me as he was fucking me and said, “Don’t tell dad what we’re doing,” has gotten me all wet again. I can tell my cheeks are turning red.
He’s looking at me. Michael’s not here. It’s just me and Lance in the kitchen.
I hear Michael press the speakerphone on his phone in the office. The dial tone comes on. I hear numbers being pressed and then the voice of a man. Michael’s on a conference call.
He doesn’t even think to shut the door. Sure he’s down the hall but he has the volume on so loud I can hear all the way in the kitchen.
He never even considers me.
Lance is eyeing my body. I can tell. The way men used to eye me wolfishly before Michael married me.
I need to stop this. I need to stop him. Technically, we’re family.
I get up from my chair and turn around. I start to walk to the counter, feeling his eyes on me. The last thing I saw before I turned around was the bulge in his basketball shorts. He was tenting. That foot long cock.
Oh God, did I just wiggle my ass for him? Did I just shake it for him? Do I still want him?
What am I doing, hun? Why am I acting like this?
There are millions of women who haven’t had sex in six months, right? Marriage is about more than sex, right? Michael’s never so much as kissed me on the lips. In public, it’s always a pretend peck on the cheek. He’s never touched me. I’m pretty confident he blackmailed my father into forcing me to accept his marriage proposal.
But sure, that was wrong. But does it excuse my cheating on him?
No. I need to stop this. I’m at the kitchen's island. I put the coffee mug down and close my eyes. I hear Michael speaking from his office.
I bend over the counter, jutting my ass out. Toward Lance. I know he’s still there. I know he’s looking at my ass.
Yes, okay, I know. Shake your head at me, dear. Tell me I’m a slut, if you want. I honestly am so confused.
I’m swaying my ass in front of a young man’s cock and telling you I don’t want to cheat.
Maybe I need to just go somewhere else?
That’s when I feel his hands on my arms. I feel those strong hands first.
Then I feel his rock hard cock against my ass crack. The yoga pants are thin and I gasp as I feel his monster dick running over my ass. I want to whimper in delight.
“Lance, we can’t do this,” I say with noticeable shudders. I want it so fucking bad. “I can’t cheat on your father.”
Just thinking about what I said as Lance runs his cock up and down my ass is enough to get me close to cumming. What is it about this guy? I’m not usually into younger guys. I like older men, D/s type stuff. This is just so insane.
“I know Jocelyn,” Lance says in a deep voice and I feel his abs and chest against my back. His body is pressing up against me. He’s shirtless and I feel where his abs are rubbing against my bare back. Oh God. I close my eyes.
“I can’t cheat,” I say.
“Do you love him?” Lance asks.
I don’t answer. I can’t tell Lance the truth. That I didn’t even know Michael six months ago. That I haven’t learned anything about him since.
“Does he get you fucking wet, like I do?” Lance asks me. I’m thinking about that question when I feel his hands leave my arms and wrap themselves around me.
I need to put a stop to this. I need to…
His right hand travels to the waistband of my yoga pants and not even hesitating, dives in. I gasp as I feel his fingers go underneath my thong. Two fingers press down to the entrance of my pussy. Rubbing me delicately. Back and forth.
“Fuck, Jocelyn,” Lance says into my ear. “Does dad do this?”
Michael has never done anything like that to me in our entire marriage.
“I didn't think so,” Lance says. “He’s not someone who likes pussy.”
My eyes are half closed. My head lolls back into his. He leans over and kisses my neck right above my shoulders.
“You don’t…know that,” I manage to say. My breathing is coming in shorter gasps now as I feel Lance and his finger gently rubbing the hood of my clit, pressing down on it. He’s going to make me cum.
“I do,” Lance says back strongly. “Because I think my stepdad is gay.”
Wait.
What?
What the hell did Lance just say?
“That’s right,” Lance says softly into my ear, rubbing his tongue against it. His cock is grinding against my ass. His tongue is tracing outlines i
n my ear. His fingers are flicking my clit. And his voice is permeating my brain. It’s a wonder I’m still standing.
Am I just hearing what I want to hear?
“My dad is most likely gay, Jocelyn,” Lance says softly. “He doesn’t love you. And I’m willing to bet he’s never fucked you. In fact, he would be fucking disgusted if you tried.”
All those times I’ve tried to seduce Michael. All those times he looked like he could care less.
How did I ever miss this?
How could I have been so blind?
Does this make what Lance is doing right now okay?
I don’t know, but for the brief moment my brain has given me a reprieve, I feel the tension exit my body.
I’ll figure out later whether this is still cheating.
Right now, I’m going to cum. I’m going to enjoy this so much.
Lance’s hard body is pressing even harder against me. His pecs are pushing into my back. His left hand is now squeezing my tits hungrily. His mouth is planting kisses on the nape of my neck and he’s dragging his tongue up and down my upper spine.
And his fingers. Oh God, his fingers are smacking, flicking, and twisting my clit.
Michael can’t see us, of course. He’s too busy talking loudly to know what’s happening in the kitchen. How his stepson is defiling his wife.
And how she’s enjoying it.
Just another few flicks. Another set of kisses.
Just another few seconds of that foot-long cock pushing into my ass and I’m cumming.
It’s his fingers that really push me over the edge. Like a slow burning fire, I close my eyes and give myself over to it. Within seconds, my body is burning. I momentarily don’t care if Michael walks in. I forget all about Michael. I can’t hear his voice. I can only feel the pressure against my clit. And it’s like my whole body feels it. My whole body, engulfed in pleasure.
Wave after wave of seizure inducing pleasure.
I lose track of everything. I can’t even tell you if I was breathing.
But I can tell you that when I open my eyes again, I see that Lance is holding me up. My legs must have given way.
He has his left arm under my shoulder and he’s easily holding me up with no effort. He could probably bench me with one arm.
I turn my head and look at him.
If he’s right, if Michael is gay and this marriage is just a sham, then Lance may have been my savior. In more ways than one.
I need to find out as quickly as I can.
So that I can properly reward him.
New York Daily Journal
From the Desk of Amanda Adams, the Professional Gossiper of Page Two.
Welcome to Page Two Gossip, here’s what we’re hearing around the halls of power:
And they’re off. The New York City Mayoral race has begun yesterday with the current Mayor, Michael Anders squaring off against the Democratic ex-Mayor of New York City, Jim Jenkins.
You’ll remember Jim Jenkins as being the mayor four years ago, defeated in a speaker of an election.
Sources close to the Anders campaign concede that the last election had razor thin margins chiefly due to the fact that the Mayor was seen as lacking any family. In fact, if you remember the man we call Hizzoner today was seen more like a billionaire dilettante who inherited his father’s business and kept it running, had an estranged son, and had been a widower for pretty much the last two decades. Those same sources are telling me that four years later, Michael Anders is a changed man. He’s close with his son and has a new wife who he is very much in love with.
So everything should go fine, right? Not so, say advocates of Jim Jenkins who are willing to talk to me. They say that the current mayor has plenty of holes and areas where things don’t add up. They think the whole thing is more of a sham and they’re out to prove it. But before they can do that, they all pretty much agree that they need to define their candidate.
Four years ago, the city was reeling from massive unemployment, sky-high crime, and a wave of homeless people blanketing the city. People blamed Mayor Jenkins for a falling quality of life in the city. But the ex-Mayor plans to show the pendulum has swung the other way. His campaign is going to try and make the point that Manhattan has turned into a giant mall that only very rich people can live in, cops have gotten to the point where they’ve started harassing citizens for minor offenses, and the job market is so tight that businesses are leaving the city because they can’t find any workers.
But at the heart of the matter, I think both sides can agree that it was always a question of who was able to portray the greatest job as a leader. The family man with the ability to let a sprawling city of 8 million get out of his control, or the billionaire scion of a media company who brings a corporate mentality to everything he touches.
New Yorkers are going to have to make a choice and they have about six months to do it. Those six months are going to be crucial to figure out what kind of man the citizens of Gotham want leading their city.
Keep your eyes open to this paper and your ears to the ground, my fellow New Yorkers. Till we hear more, this is Amanda Adams signing off. Keep your ears open, New York.
Lance
There are cheers coming from the crowd of supporters. Posters with the words "Anders for Mayor" are being waved. I watch as my stepfather takes the podium, waving to the crowd. "Thank you! Thank you all for your support," he says into the microphone. "I am joined today by my loving family," he says, pointing to both Jocelyn and I with his palm outstretched. "My beautiful wife, Jocelyn, and my son, Lance, I love you both, and as we gather here today I know there are many things on all of our minds—National Security, the economy, advances in technology, among other issues, but I want us to never lose sight of what is most important, and that is the love and devotion of family."
With that, the crowd cheers even more and I try my best not to roll my eyes. Who is he fucking trying to fool? When was family ever his top priority? But I get it. He needs to play this up to win favor in an already tight mayoral campaign.
And then he continues, "It's been said before, but is worth repeating here. The love of family is life's greatest blessing. Love, trust, sacrifice, helpfulness, respect, and commitment should not be taken lightly, but valued and held high. Today, and every day, you should be thankful for your family. Your family is priceless and being a part of it means that you're a part of something very special and wonderful, and bigger than yourself. Strong, healthy, loving, and nurturing families form the basis of our future! Let's never forget that New York!"
I see he's really fucking laying it on thick—like peanut butter thick—and the crowd is going wild. I mean it. They're really eating this shit up. Especially with the thin margin of victory during the last election, he knows he needs to push this issue not just with his supporters, but with his opponents as well, to cover his ass. I look over at Jocelyn to see if I can detect any hint of emotion from her face, but she's standing stoically, looking ahead, smiling, clapping, and for all outward appearances, playing the part of the Mayor's happy and devoted wife. She looks perfectly put together. I don't fucking blame her. Play the game or get eaten. But she notices that I'm looking at her and she whispers, "We can't keep doing this, Lance."
It's what I don't want to hear. I mean, I know she's right, but I can't seem to bring myself to admit it. Why is it that I want this woman so fucking bad? I can have any woman I want. Why this one?
"I know," I whisper back, but even when I say it, we both look at each other in a way that suggests we only half believe what we're actually saying.
"I'm a married woman; we need to take a break from each other," she continues at a soft whisper.
"But how do you stay with him? I've seen the way he doesn't even look at you at home. It's like you don't exist."
"I owe it to my father to make this marriage work. It goes beyond just Michael and I, you know. Like I said, a lot of people are depending on me. And besides, Michael isn't a bad man. I don't have a
terrible life with him."
"So, you're saying you're happy living in the same house with a man who doesn't love you? A man who refuses to show you the affection you deserve? A man who won't so much as touch you?"
As soon as I say that, I regret it. I know I've struck a sensitive nerve because there's a pained look on her face.
Instead of answering my questions, she says, "You're young, so much younger than I am. What could we possibly have in common, in the grand scheme of it all? And besides, you're my son. Albeit, my stepson, but can't you understand that this is an impossible situation that we've found ourselves in?"
Of course she's right. I fucking know she's right, but it kills me to admit it. I hate it. Instead of responding, I let her words sit in my mind and I look ahead and listen as my stepfather wraps up his speech, driving home his point even further, "Instead of just talking about family values, let's start really valuing those closest to us and make a difference in the generations to come. As your Mayor, I promise to uphold these values both publically and privately, and together, I know we will bring the real meaning of family back to modern families here in New York."
Hearing him say these things is almost unbelievable. I know as soon as he gets home tonight, he won't heed his own advice. He won't so much as look at Jocelyn and I. He'll have the TV on, or disappear into his study. I watch as he waves to his supporters again amid cheers, and then steps away from the podium. Staffers are now making their rounds through the crowded room, handing out handshakes and pats on the shoulders to supporters. I see that my stepdad has his eyes on one staffer in particular, a young, dark-haired man. He must be new because I don't recognize him. He's broad chested with well manicured hair, and he stops him for a quick moment. They are standing a few feet from Jocelyn and I.
"Do you work for UPS or something?" he asks the staffer.
"I'm not sure what you mean, sir?"
"Well, I could've sworn I saw you checking out my package just now," he says in a bold and brazen tone. He's smiling so big that I can see his teeth.