A Stepmother's Final Lessons Ch. 05

(Part 5 of 6)

The morning air was cool enough that I wore a jacket when I walked to the corner store to get some coffee cake, Mom's favorite. Heidi wasn't my real mother, but she had been like a mother to me for over half my life. Now that I was a grown man, not quite out on my own, she had taken on a new role as my lover, at least for a little while. Having raised me to be a good man, she wanted to make me a great lover. She did make me love her, that's for sure.

I slid the cake out of the plastic clamshell onto a platter and cut two thick slices. Then I got the coffee maker ready for a nice strong pot of Cafe Du Monde. I heard her tip toe in and thrilled when her arms wrapped around me.

"Oh, you're making breakfast. How thoughtful," she murmured, her hands roaming over my chest and belly. She wasn't ordinarily this affectionate during the day but the night before... was out of the ordinary.

"Well, it is your birthday." I turned around to embrace her and gave her a friendly kiss. "So I thought we'd get started celebrating. Happy birthday, Mom."

"You remembered? Oh Trey, you really are the best."

She must have caught me wincing as I sat down at the kitchen table.

"How's your bottom?"

"It's fine," I groaned, embarrassed. "But I am definitely feeling it."

"That should pass in a couple days. In a week it will be as good as new."

"Good as new?" I asked skeptically.

"Well, not new." She grinned at me impishly and took a bite of cake. "Better than new, some might say."

After breakfast I gave her my present to unwrap... a new sweatshirt with my college logo embroidered over the breast. Heidi was a graduate of the school and liked to wear team colors on game days.

"I noticed your old sweatshirt was coming apart at the seams. I actually got this in May, before you and I became so close. Otherwise I..."

"It's perfect, baby. You know what I like and saw a need. Can't ask for more than that. Thank you."

She leaned over to hug me and I savored the contact. She was being uncharacteristically affectionate. Maybe she really enjoyed last night. Or maybe she thought I needed some extra love after the kinky things she did to me. I was fine with it, except for a little soreness. But I was enjoying the attention and thought maybe the tide was turning in my favor.

"I got you a present, too." Mom walked to the corner pantry and got out a plastic tub. She set it in front of me expectantly like it was significant.

"Organic virgin coconut oil. What's this for?"

"Oh, I don't know. Hold on to it and maybe something will occur to you."

She ran her fingers through my hair and kissed my brow before heading back to her bedroom.

The rest of the day I made myself useful. I mowed the grass, folded some laundry, changed the oil in our cars and checked the fluids. When I brought in the mail there was a small package for Heidi. I recognized the name of the sender, Mike Charles, from the letter she got the day before. It was hard not to notice the way Mom's eyes lit up when I handed it to her. I was curious but I didn't ask about it. Looking back, I probably didn't want to know.

That night I took her out to dinner. She was in high spirits and looking good. I kind of pretended we were on a date though we had to keep things cool out in public. I could imagine us together under other circumstances, though. Even here and now we could be a couple. We weren't really related, after all. But like Mom said, it wouldn't be a good look for us. So I settled for enjoying her company, knowing how things really were behind closed doors.

Then everything changed in an instant.

"We're going to have a houseguest," she said.

"Oh. Do you need me to give up my room?" I was heading back to school in a week so it wouldn't bother me to spend a few nights on the couch.

"No. He'll be staying in my room."

"Oh," I said again.

"He isn't just some random guy, if that's what you're thinking. I've known him a long time." She pushed the rice from one side of the plate to the other with her fork. "He was my boyfriend in college... and ever since."

"I see." I was planning to order champagne with dessert. Guess not now.

"He's waited a long time, been very patient. Now we can finally be together. Trey, I hope you can be happy for us."

"Of course. Of course. When do you expect him?"

"Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest. He wanted to be here today but he's selling his house and they keep pushing back the closing."

"That sounds permanent. Should I clear out before he gets here?"

"No, he wants to meet you. Really."

We shared a pot of herbal tea before bed, sitting at the kitchen table in our pajamas. She proudly showed me what her boyfriend sent her. It was an engagement set, expensive looking, still in the presentation box. She was waiting for him to put it on her finger. I was happy, really, mostly.

"Trey, I know I said we needed to be discreet. Well, Mike will probably figure out what we've been up to. I don't want to lie to him. Would you mind...?"

"Oh wow. I didn't think about that. Will he be cool with it?"

"Like I said, he's very patient. He hated my being with your father. But he put up with it for my sake. I think when he gets to know you, he won't mind what we did."

"You're not going to tell him about last night, are you?" I would be deeply embarrassed if anyone found out about that.

"No, of course not. That's between you and me. And, ah, if he should ask about things we did... you don't need to go into detail. I'll tell him what he needs to know. Don't lie to him. But it's okay to not say anything, you know?"

I guess with time running out on our little love affair I should have pursued her even more urgently. But the truth was that my ardor was running out of steam. Learning that she had a boyfriend, none other than Mike Charles of 23 University Row, left me dead in the water. Weird that I would jump at the chance to screw my stepmother and then balk at the idea of being with another man's girlfriend.

I excused myself and stayed up late in my bedroom doing pushups and situps and trying not to think about Mom's technicolored spandex workout clothes in the shared dresser. I slept in the next morning and even after waking I lay in bed a long time, thinking. Finally I got up and found a cup worth of hot coffee in the pot. Then I went to the living room to watch a little TV.

Sprawling on the couch, I noticed a Hothouse magazine lying open on the coffee table. I absentmindedly picked it up and started reading. Three paragraphs into the letter to the editor, my eyebrows shot into the stratosphere. I read the remainder of the story and as I finished I heard the patio door slide open and closed. A glance over my shoulder showed me what I was hoping to see... my stepmother wearing a string bikini and spreading a beach towel on a lounge chair.

I rushed to my room and got out an old bathing suit, a skimpy briefs style I hadn't worn in a very long time. Then I slipped on a pair of sunglasses and headed to the patio, picking up the coconut oil on the way. At the patio door I took a moment to admire her beauty and to get myself in character. She was curled up on the lounge wearing a floppy hat and oversized sunglasses. She had one leg draped over the other and was showing plenty of skin. And I was the lucky stiff next door who cut her grass.

"I'm finished with the front yard, ma'am," I told her cheerfully.

"Thank you. I appreciate it," she replied. She smiled, but her expression was inscrutable with her eyes hidden behind the dark glasses.

"It's nice out. You should get plenty of sun today."

"I hope so. I don't get to lay out as often as I like. It would be a shame if I got a sunburn."

"Well, I could help you out with some lotion if you like."

"That would be very thoughtful. Thank you." She rolled onto her back and set her hat aside, crossing her hands behind her head. Damn, she looked fine. My cock was already tenting my bathing suit.

I opened the tub of coconut oil. I'd never seen the stuff before. I wasn't sure how to proceed but after reading the story I knew that what was left in the tub was going in the trash so I stuck in my hand and scooped out a liberal amount. I started at the top and smeared it over her shoulders and upper chest. She quivered involuntarily under my hands and let go a nearly silent "Mmmmm..."

I went under her arms and down her sides and came up below her bikini top. The woman in the story had, of course, massive breasts. But I felt just as excited about the prospect of touching Mom's smaller breasts, especially when I was pretending to be someone else, someone who never had the pleasure. My fingertips went under the fabric and just managed to graze her tiny strawberry nipples when she abruptly asked me to stop.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," I said. "I didn't want to miss any spots."

"Try to behave yourself," she replied. "I'm not going to burn there, believe me."

I resumed oiling up her stomach and sides and traced the waistband of her bikini bottoms with my fingertips. Then I moved to her ankles and started working my way up her magnificent legs.

"Your skin is very smooth, ma'am." I said.

"Thank you for noticing," she replied.

I took my time rubbing and kneading her thighs. I knew how this all would play out. I read the blueprint in the Hothouse magazine. So I saw no harm in lingering there, enjoying the strange sensation of coconut oil on warm female flesh. Slowly, inexorably, I worked my way up those smooth limbs, my thumbs pressing deeply into the muscles of her inner thighs. When I reached the border of her bathing suit, I slipped a thumb under the fabric and grazed the border of her velvet.

"Please!" She barked and brought a hand down to push mine away. "Be-have yourself!"

She rolled over on her stomach and laid the side of her face on her forearms. I waited a minute, then resumed the application of lotion on her shoulders and upper back. I got plenty of oil under the string of her bikini top and managed to briefly touch the sides of her boobs, careful not to earn another warning. I oiled her lower back, admiring her sweet ass in the tiny bikini bottoms, then dropped down to her ankles again.

As I worked my way up those beautiful limbs, I surveyed the fences in the back of the yard and on either side. The hedges bordering the patio offered a little privacy. But if any of the three neighbors were to poke their heads over the wooden slats they would be treated to the salacious sight of a young man oiling up his mother. We'd been careful to keep up appearances until now. I found that risking exposure like this definitely turned up the heat.

I got to her delicious buns and got an extra scoop of oil for the tops of her thighs. Then, taking a calming breath as if I really was that guy, as if I didn't know what would happen next, I stroked my thumbs over her cheeks. She didn't give me a warning or push my hands away. Instead, her ass briefly rose an inch and went back down. I tried it again, stroking my thumbs over her cheeks. Again her ass rose and sank. I tried it again.

I looked up and watched the tops of the fences. There was nothing I could do if we were seen. But at least I would want to know if we had been seen and by whom. With my eyes on the fences I moved my hands up until they were touching each other under the ephemeral fabric of her suit. I imagined what it would be like for the guy in the story, lotioning up his hot neighbor lady, holding her tight little buns in his greasy hands for the first time.

I squeezed them gingerly as if it really were my first time. And it did seem like the first time, with the oil and the sunshine and the possibility of being caught in the act. I brought my hands down and stroked the backs of her thighs again before bringing them together once more under her bikini bottoms. I squeezed and let my thumbs meander into the cleft between her cheeks. Her ass rose an inch and stayed there, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

I let my thumb stray across the wrinkles of her anus and she pushed back against it. I circled her dirty hole with my thumb, over and over, and she moaned into her elbow. As her ass sank back down I pressed my thumb forcefully into her, causing her to shoot up again and squirm from side to side. With the slickness of the coconut oil to ease my way, my thumb sank into her butthole and she groaned and writhed as I pushed it in as far as I could, started to withdraw, pushed it in again.

She said nothing, nothing intelligible, and did nothing to stop me as I thumb-fucked her greasy asshole. I scanned the tops of the fences while I did so, terrified of being caught abusing my mother this way, wondering how we could possibly get away with what we were going to do next, knowing that I wasn't going to let that stop me. Her arms were splayed out in front of her now and her face was buried in the folds of the towel. Her ass was pointing upward, daring me to do something. I did something.

Pushing my own bathing briefs down below my nuts, I pushed her bikini bottoms to the side and straddled her legs. With my thumb still delving into her ass I scooped up some more oil and lubed myself up. I pulled my thumb out and immediately tried to replace it with my dick. She lurched forward slightly and brought her arms under her chest as if to push up. I leaned into her and pressed the head of my cock into the sweet spot. Unlike the first time we did this, I almost immediately felt myself start to slip in.

I shut my eyes and concentrated on the feeling of her greased-up hole on the tip of my dick. As slowly and surely as she had pushed her silicone sex toy into my ass two nights ago, I pushed my very real cock, pulsing with blood and lust, into her anal canal. When I felt the pressure of her tight asshole on the base of my dick I paused and felt the tension leave her body. She relaxed and limply lay face down on the lounge. I lay down on top of her and rested, my dick firmly ensconced in her backside.

A quick scan of the fences showed that we were still alone. I heard a lawn mower start up. Next door? Farther away? I pushed myself up on my elbows and started to move inside her. The first time I fucked her I resolved to treat every time as if it might be the last. I was pretty sure this was going to be last time so I wanted to enjoy every second of it, every second of fucking my mother in the ass. The unbidden thought of Mom's boyfriend crossed my mind and I thought "too bad". Her ass would belong to him on Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest. Right now it belonged to me.

I pulled out of her with deliberate slowness, loitered with just the head of my cock trapped by her sphincters, then pushed in until my balls were pressed against the backs of her thighs. The first time I buttfucked her she wanted to face me so that I knew she was a person. Giving it to her from behind made it easy for me to think of her as a nameless slut, just a piece of ass. I decided that was okay. Sometimes a woman can be a friend and a partner and sometimes she can be a hole for me to fuck.

The coconut oil really kept up the slickness and my cock pistoned freely in and out of her ass. Still, it felt amazing and the situation was so lewd that I knew it would not be long before I pumped a stream of cream into her rectum. It was nice doing it this way, being able to come inside her without having to pull out and finish on her stomach or back, though I didn't mind the time she let me finish in her mouth. I was reminded of when I came in her hand and she made me taste it. I was lucky to have her to share that moment.

One of her hands went down under her belly and I knew she was going to diddle herself, though the lady in the story somehow climaxed just by the neighbor's dick in her ass. I watched the fences and screwed her asshole and waited for the tell-tale signs that she was getting off. She jerked once, twice, then bucked against me. I let go at that moment and her spasms and contractions finished me off. And when the smoke cleared I carefully slid out of her and pulled my bathing suit back up. I took one last look at her freshly fucked asshole and tugged her bikini bottoms back into place.

She had an enigmatic smile when I helped her to her feet. She was still wearing the sunglasses so I couldn't see her eyes. But I felt the tenderness in her kiss as we shared a dirty, greasy embrace. Then she toweled the excess oil from her body and we adjourned to our respective showers. If that was the last time, it was a good one. But it wasn't our last time, after all. Though she assured me that if I could think it she had probably done it, I was to learn there was one thing she hadn't done and always wanted to. And Mike Charles was going to need my help to make it happen.