What？My Stepson Is My First Love！

My husband was already in his 60s. It wasn't until two years into our marriage that I discovered his son was my first love. That night, my husband fell asleep before I was satisfied. I went downstairs for a drink to take the edge off, only to run into his son. He cornered me against the wall and offered to finish what his father had started. ****** "Shirley, let me introduce you. This is my son, Eric Roland." I stared at the tall, powerfully built man before me. My fingers tightened around the hem of my dress as I struggled to believe what I was seeing. 'How could he be my husband's son?' Realizing my shock was showing, I quickly hid my panic, forced a smile, and nodded to him. "It's nice to meet you, Eric." Before that evening, I had no idea my husband's son was the man I had once loved. Eric and I had dated throughout all four years of college. Later, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer and needed money for treatment. I didn't want to drag Eric into my problems, so I ended our relationship. Eric refused to accept the breakup, so I said the cruelest thing I could think of. I told him I couldn't stand being with a man who had no money. After that, we never saw each other again. I never imagined we would meet again under circumstances like these. Eric smiled at me. "Hello, Shirley," he said. He seemed completely unfazed, as if there were nothing unusual about seeing me again. The three of us ate dinner on the terrace under the moonlight, with Eric seated across from my husband and me. My husband began telling me what a good son Eric was. "Eric is a devoted son. If I go first, he'll take good care of you." "Of course," Eric said, holding my gaze. "We're family, after all." Something brushed lightly against my ankle beneath the table. Assuming it was an accident, I pulled my leg back. A moment later, his foot brushed my ankle again. This time, there was no mistaking that he had done it deliberately. I went rigid in my chair. Across from me, Eric sat perfectly straight, knife and fork in hand, and finished his sentence without giving the slightest sign that anything was happening beneath the table. "I'll inherit Dad's estate, so of course I'll make sure you're well taken care of too." His foot slid slowly up my calf beneath the table. Wherever he touched, my skin tingled. I wanted to move away, but I was afraid my husband would notice something was wrong. Just as I was about to make an excuse to leave, Eric's phone rang on the table. He glanced at the message and finally withdrew his foot. "I have something to take care of. You two enjoy the rest of your dinner." Only after he left did I begin to relax. After dinner, my husband took me back to our bedroom and handed me a new set of lingerie. The pearl strands draped over my bare skin, making the lingerie look more like jewelry than clothing. My husband clearly loved it. The wine from dinner had already put him in the mood, and he wasted no time taking me to bed. I went along with him, moaning softly and praising him. But at his age, praise could only do so much. He still finished quickly. My husband was satisfied. I wasn't. After he fell asleep, I took a shower and slipped on a robe. I genuinely liked the lingerie, especially the strand of pearls hanging between my thighs. With every step, it brushed my most sensitive spot and sent a thrill through me. I kept it on beneath my robe, hoping the friction would ease the ache inside me. When it wasn't enough, I left the room and headed to the home bar on the third floor for a drink. The display lights inside the liquor cabinet were bright enough, so I left the main lights off. I took out a bottle of Haut-Brion and poured myself a glass. Eric spoke from behind me. "Why are you down here drinking alone this late? Wasn't my dad keeping you company?"