FILTHY WET DIARIES

MY STEPSON

MY STEPSON.

I didn't know Lucien was back from camp, when I went home early from work.

My handbag placed steady on the crook of my right arm. I was about to fix my key into the door, when I noticed it was open.

Kenny was away for a business trip, and Lucien, his son, was supposed to be in camp.

I stepped inside, putting away my heels, the cool tile, sending a shiver up my bare legs.

Then I saw him. Lucien. My stepson. He was standing at the counter, shirtless, making scrambled eggs in the kitchen.

His back to me. 6’4” of solid hard-earned muscles from years of endless workouts and morning runs. He was very muscular and solid, unlike his dad.

Kenny was a nice man with a warm, sweet smile, but Lucien was different. He was usually dismissive, curt, arrogant. His eyes always looked dark like a warning that didn't need to be voiced out.

Sweatpants hung low on his hips, revealing the deep V of his abs, and his pitch dark hair was tousled like he had run his hands through them carelessly.

Watching him from behind, watching as his shoulders flexed with every movement made my mouth go dry.

All my life, I usually went for sweet, gentle men. But the day I saw Lucien, there was no doubting that he wasn't my type.

Nothing about him was sweet, gentle, or kind. He was definitely the opposite. Yet, my body seemed to always react to him.

I found myself always sneaking glances at him, always trying to get his attention one way or the other. I was older than him with just four years, but he always kept me at an arm's length which was quite frustrating.

It's been seven whole months since I married his father. Seven months of secret fantasies of touching myself in my room while imagining his rough, solid hands on me, that deep voice whispering things no stepson should whisper to his stepmom.

“Anna?” He turned to look at me, surprise flashing through his sexy, looking face before it settled into something neutral. But not before I caught his eyes, scan through my body quickly.

I was dressed in a tight leather skirt and silk blouse. The blouse hugged my body perfectly, my bra cups pushing my boobs out, showing a good amount of cleavage.

My body tensed under his gaze, but I tried to mask it.

“Hey, Lucien.” I hung my handbag on a stand, trying to sound casual, like my pulse wasn't racing already. “Didn't expect you to be back this weekend.”

“Well, yeah. There was a problem with the site, so we had to cancel and reschedule.”

“Ohh, bummer.”

He dished out the eggs and placed them on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. The motion made his biceps flex, and I couldn't stop myself from staring. My p***y clenched hard, reminding me just how much I needed those hands on me. “You're back early today. Any issues at work?” he jolted me back from my imagination.

“No. Nothing's wrong.” I don't know what came over me. I just know I wanted him right now. I didn't want to wait any longer.

I let my keys fall to the ground just before him.

“Oops” I snickered, bending to pick it up slowly, revealing the full curve of my breast to him as I bent before him. I slowly stood back up, in time to catch him staring at my boobs. Just what I wanted.

I noticed him swallow deeply as he frantically averted his gaze, blinking severally. “Dad said he'll be gone for a month?,” he tried to clear the air as it had gotten quite thick within those few seconds.

“Yeah, guess that gives us time, then.”

“Time?, for what?” He sat before his scrambled eggs, ready to dig in, then turned to look at me, expecting an answer.

“To bond a little. You know, as mother and son?” I mewed as I took steady steps, closer to him.

His jaw tightened. He blinked severally, as if trying to comprehend what I just said. “You should get some rest. You must be tired.” he scoffed.

“No, I'm not” I took another step. Close enough to smell him, sweaty, with his unique familiar scent that's haunted my fantasies for months.

He looked up at me with those dark eyes of his, as if warning me to stay away, but I ignored it.

I took his fork from his hands, and took a portion of his meal, into my mouth, keeping eye contact with him, a slutty smile on my lips. I was ready to risk it all. I wanted to know how far he would let me go.

He sat there, looking up at me, eyes tracing the fork till it entered my mouth. He swallowed hard, eyes still fixed on my mouth as I chewed.

“Anna,” his voice was thick, breathy, warning, as he called my name, making my p***y clench violently.

“Yes, Lucien,” I said as I placed my left hand on his shoulder, and slowly climbed into the chair with him. Each knee on either side of his thighs, facing him.

I expected him to react. To stop me, but he didn't. He just stood there and stared at me like he was helpless, like he couldn't afford to move. I felt a rush of adrenaline course through me, as I fully sat down on his laps, my skirt riding up my thighs, and I placed the fork back on the dish. Placing both my hands on the sides of his neck, staring straight back at him

I ground my hips on him slowly, side to side, before going front and back, feeling his c**k already hard and poking at my inner thighs.

“Anna, you…” he tried to speak, his breathing ragged. I placed a finger to his lips, shunning him.

“Shhh.” I cooed as I leant forward and captured his lower lip in mine.

I sucked on his lower lip, urgently, without sticking my tongue in, I just sucked, focusing on his lower lip alone.

Just as he was about to lean into the kiss, I pulled away. His hands flew to my head immediately, holding me steady as his mouth crashed on mine. No warning, no softness. Just pure, filthy possession. Tongue shoved past my lips, licked into me, like he already owned every inch.

I moaned before I could stop myself, tasting eggs and salt, and raw want. My hands fisted in his hair, yanked hard. He snarled into the kiss and bit my bottom lip until I whimpered.

He pulled away from the kiss, panting softly. We both stared at each other for about three more seconds, before our mouths crashed once again, trying to satiate our hunger.

Big rough hands quickly pulled at both ends of my blouse, the buttons scattering around the kitchen floor.

My bra was next, snapped open with one brutal tug, t**s spilled free, bounced heavy. Cool air hit my n*****s. They tightened instantly.

He pulled away, looking at my t**s breathlessly as though they were better than he had expected.