Obsessed with stepmother

page views:1 Publication date:2023-06-11 13:21:48

Everything before me was a blur, but even in this hazy environment, I could still see her figure, and her singing voice lingered in my ears,
"Let's row our oars, the little boat pushes through the waves..."

"You've come," I said.

"Yes, let's play house." She held out her hand to me.

"Oh? Okay." I readily agreed and held out my hand, placing it on hers.

"Shall I be your mother?" she asked with a smile.

"My mother is much older than you, how will you be?" I asked, looking at her delicate face.

"Hmm... since I can't be your current mother, then I'll be your stepmother, that is, a mother younger than your mother~ hehe~" she said after thinking for a moment.

"My mother has milk for me to drink, do you?" I said unconsciously, biting my finger, my eyes fixed on her slightly protruding breasts.

"Who said I don't have any? Look!" Hearing me say that, she immediately lifted her clothes, revealing two slightly protruding breasts. "Come on, eat them."

I immediately went over, opened my mouth, and took her still-developing nipple into my mouth, sucking hard with my lips, savoring the unique fragrance of a young girl, while my hands roamed over her other breast.
"Good girl~~~ harder~~~" She gently patted my head, humming softly.

"Beep beep~~~~~~~~" What was that sound? I asked.

"You should get up." She looked at me and said.

"Get up?"

"Yes." After she finished speaking, she suddenly threw me into the air. My body flew rapidly into the air, flying and flying, surrounded by white clouds. Just as I was surprised, my body suddenly plummeted, the wind whistling in my ears, about to hit the ground.

"Ahhhhhh!" I screamed, sitting up in bed. I touched my forehead; it was covered in sweat.

"Phew..." I breathed a sigh of relief and started getting dressed, the sweet scent of the girl's breasts from my dream still lingering in my mouth.

I used to think it was impossible for someone to have the same dream for several days in a row, but yesterday I had the same dream as the day before, and the feeling in the dream was so real, it actually felt real.

My family used to live in the countryside. When I was in elementary school, I was best friends with the girl next door. We often played house together, and she always pretended to be my mother. Whenever she had the chance, she would let me suck on her nipples, and she would look curiously at my penis, which I didn't know was hard. It was through her that I learned about the differences between men and women. Later, we moved away, and I lost contact with her. I still don't know her full name because every time I saw her, she always made me call her "stepmother."

"Dinner's ready," someone called from downstairs.

"Okay," I replied indifferently, then tidied up and went downstairs.

The table was already set with food, quite plentiful, a balanced mix of meat and vegetables. She was serving me rice at the table.

I sat down in the chair, picked up my bowl without saying a word, and started eating.

"Don't just eat rice, eat some vegetables, there's still soup." She said, putting food in my bowl, and I didn't stand on ceremony, eating whatever was there.

"Tomorrow is your father's death anniversary, are you coming with me?" she asked.

"I have things to do, you go by yourself." I said, still indifferently.

"Okay, you're going back to school, right? Studying is important, even if it's university..."

"Can you eat first? Don't think you're really my mother, you're just my stepmother." I didn't say it loudly, just in a voice she could hear, but that had more power than shouting. Hearing the words "stepmother," I thought of my dream last night. Really, how could these two be compared? One was so adorable, the other so talkative.

She stopped talking, lowering her head to concentrate on her food.

She was also my stepmother, but I called her "stepmother" out of habit. It was because of childhood memories that I often called women younger than my mother "stepmother," except for her friends. For those with fixed titles, I still used the ones I was supposed to call "stepmother."

My mother passed away when I was ten, and my father didn't remarry. Our life was going well until later when my father started drinking. When I went to university, one day he brought home a "stepmother" for me, and this "stepmother" was only five years older than me. I couldn't bear to call such a person "stepmother.

" "We can start as friends, you can call me stepmother," were her first words to me. These words stirred up childhood memories. The stepmother before me vaguely resembled the stepmother of my dreams, but this was just my subjective imagination.

We got along very well after that, and I even started to like my stepmother. She was a middle school teacher, teaching physics, which I found quite incongruous with her appearance. She had an oval face, short hair, and looked so lively; I thought she should be teaching foreign languages. Later, I learned that she was a bit old-fashioned and stubborn, which was perfect for teaching science subjects like equations.

For a while, I even envied my father for finding such a good wife, and I was grateful to have such a wonderful new mother. But just a few days after their wedding, one night, my father had an accident. He had drunk some alcohol as usual during dinner; it was newly bought. Later, it was discovered that the alcohol he drank contained a large amount of industrial alcohol, and my father passed away, leaving only my stepmother and me.

My stepmother didn't speak for several weeks after my father's death. It wasn't until after the mourning period that she slowly returned to her old self, still loving me dearly, treating me like her own son.

Our relationship gradually changed after that. She still took care of me as before, but I felt very uncomfortable. I no longer felt the same way I did when my father was alive, and I even started to resent my stepmother's meddling. The reason was actually quite simple. One day, I was enjoying the cool air on the balcony when I overheard a conversation between two people from the next house.

"The young widow next door seems quite pretty."

"Isn't her husband dead? Why is she still here?"

"Doesn't she have a son? I heard that her son and she seem to have a rather ambiguous relationship."

"Really?"

"Of course, otherwise she would have found another man long ago. Think about it, what normal woman could endure this kind of torment?"

After hearing this, I felt like a thief caught red-handed, because what they said was basically true. After my father's death, I did develop a stronger interest in my stepmother, but it was only out of respect. Later, after my virginity was taken by a hairdresser, I developed a great interest in women. Every day, I would pay extra attention to my stepmother, and when I talked to her, I would stare at her most prominent breasts, but I never dared to be too forward.

Hearing what they said, I suddenly felt a surge of disgust towards my stepmother, like a thief about to bite back. My subconscious began to reject her. From that day on, I never gave her a kind look.

After dinner, my stepmother took her things and went out to pay respects to my father. I was bored at home. It wasn't that I didn't want to go, but I was afraid of what people would say. I wandered around the house, and suddenly wanted to go see my stepmother's room. I hesitated for a moment, but still went in.

The room was just as I had imagined, very tidy. The double bed that used to be there was now a single bed, covered with a green, military-style blanket, just like the ones I used in school. There was a small desk with a computer and some books on it. I picked up a few books at random, flipped through them—mostly math books, physics books, and some textbooks—things I absolutely hated, so I put them back.

I sat on the bed, swinging my legs off the edge. The bed was very comfortable, so I rolled over and lay down.

"Ouch!" I sat up as soon as my head hit the pillow; something was poking me. I picked up the pillow and found a yellow thing underneath. It was a plastic banana model. I smelled it; it had a strange smell, but it was pleasant. Holding the banana, I inhaled the scent and went to the living room. A fruit basket hung on the wall, filled with various plastic fruits. Looking closely, I saw that a banana was indeed missing.

"What's she doing with that?" I muttered to myself. Suddenly, a scene from an adult film flashed into my mind: a blonde, blue-eyed woman holding a plastic banana, thrusting it in and out of her vagina, while her other hand caressed her breasts. Two fingers pinched her red nipples. After an orgasm, she pulled out the banana model, which was covered in her vaginal fluid. At that moment, the woman's appearance changed; it was my stepmother.

I slapped my head a few times, then remembered something else. After my father passed away, I was sorting through his belongings and found a small square box with some gold lettering on it: "Nine-Nine Divine..." The last character was illegible. Just then, my stepmother came in and, seeing what I was holding, immediately took it. "Nine-Nine Divine Song? Why are cassette tapes made like this now? I'll take this and listen to it." Then she took the thing away. Later, I learned it was "Nine-Nine Divine Oil."

Thinking about all this, I looked at the banana model in my hand again, and suddenly my heart was filled with different feelings—a little excited, a little angry, and a sense of anticipation.
"She's still not satisfied? Then let me satisfy you." I was startled when I said those words, but I quickly calmed down and started thinking about how to "punish" my stepmother who was masturbating with a banana. Images of her naked body and various lewd acts flashed through my mind, reminding me of the past and childhood memories. I decided to vent all my dissatisfaction and lust on her.

At noon, my stepmother came back with some groceries and went straight to the kitchen to cook. I went back to my room to pack my things; summer vacation was ending in a few days, and my stepmother would be going back to work at school, and I would be going back to school too. After lunch

, I went back to my room to play on the computer. My stepmother finished cleaning up the kitchen and went back to her room to go home. Summer noons are the most uncomfortable time. If you don't sleep, you're sleepy, but if you do, it's too hot. And to make matters worse, the damn air conditioner broke down. I had to take out an old fan and put one in my stepmother's room and another in mine, running them all day long.

I sat in the chair, staring at the pictures on the computer screen, my right hand clicking the mouse incessantly, while my left hand vigorously stroked my penis, the glans already covered in white fluid—my recent spoils. But I wasn't satisfied; I rested a bit and continued. The room was filled with the stench of sweat and semen, and I was completely absorbed, my mind filled with the image of myself frantically thrusting into my stepmother's body.

I sat at the computer for about an hour, then went to the bathroom. When I came out, I decided to begin my operation. I went to my stepmother's room, pressed my ear to the door, and listened for any sounds, but only heard the hum of the fan. I pushed the door open a crack and peeked inside. My stepmother was lying on her side on the bed in a black nightgown, seemingly fast asleep.

I hesitated for a moment, but then gently pushed the door open and quietly stepped inside. I stood by her bed, watching her chest rise and fall with her breath. It was the first time in over a year that I had seen her this close. I don't know if it was because of the black pajamas or her natural features, but she looked so fair-skinned. Perhaps because she was hot, she rolled over and lay on her back, her hands resting on her lower abdomen. Her firm breasts strained against the pajamas, and a few strands of hair fell across her neck. She looked so elegant and beautiful. I couldn't even imagine the scene of that banana being inserted into her vagina.

A nameless fire rose from my lower abdomen. I pulled my penis out from the side of my shorts; there was still some unabsorbed semen on it. I lightly touched the glans with my fingers, then wiped the semen off with my shorts. I stood next to my stepmother, my penis directly facing her face. My heart pounded, and I swallowed hard.

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. I suddenly felt as if countless eyes were watching me in the room that was just the two of us. I couldn't back down now; I told myself. I shoved the head of my penis into my stepmother's mouth. Her teeth were clenched, and my penis could only rub against her lips and teeth. Even so, it gave me a great deal of stimulation. My stepmother's teeth gently rubbed against the fleshy line beneath my penis, and her lips enveloped it.

The intense pleasure made me involuntarily speed up. My stepmother's tightly closed eyes twitched slightly, as if she was about to open them. Sure enough, she opened her eyes and then discovered my penis inside her mouth.

"You—" She shook her head, and my penis fell from between her lips. She sat up abruptly, her hands on her heaving chest, her face displaying a strange expression—a mixture of anger, tension, and a hint of anticipation.

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Obsessed with stepmother

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