tagLoving WivesLearning About Loving

Learning About Loving

byfalcon29©

My name is Samantha. I was always a chubby little girl. My mom assured me that as I got bigger, things would slim down. Then, about the time I hit puberty, I began to realize that my metabolism and appetite for good food were such that I was destined to be overweight. My older sister is slim. My mom was slim until an accident forced her into a wheelchair for a year. Since then she and I have looked more like mother and daughter than she and Linda.

The things that go with being fat -- cruel remarks from kids (especially the girls, but boys, too), low self esteem, etc. Didn't make it easier to try to lose weight. I knew by the time I was sixteen that all I could do was hope to firm up my oversize body. I hated exercise, but I kept at it. For a while.

When I was seventeen, two things happened that would change my life a great deal. First, my mom divorced my dad and married this guy who lived in a little town about a hundred miles from Seattle. My sister was almost twenty one and had been living with her boyfriend in our family home for three years by then. I didn't want to leave Indiana, where I had grown up. So Mom let me stay with Dad. She called almost every day and sent money for support, even though she had custody.

My dad can best be described as a loser. That's being kind. He was never very good to my mom. It wasn't like he beat her or anything, but he's lazy. Truth be told, she had done all the work to support us all of their life together. Even though I was living with him, he didn't really care what I did. He'd grown up as a hippy, and stayed true to those ideas of "freedom". So, he stayed "free" of work as much as he could. That meant we ate a lot of ramen noodles, since Mom couldn't send a lot each month.

The second thing that happened was when I finally took the plunge and rid myself of my virginity. The first time wasn't bad. When the asshole came around a couple of days later and said he wanted to fuck me again I turned him down. He wasn't happy. He took what I'd given him freely before. Technically it was rape, but once he had me down I relaxed and let him do it. I figured it would just be easier. His mother was on the school board. My mom said she would support me if I wanted to bring charges. To me, it was too much trouble. So it was "Goodbye Terre Haute, hello Seattle." She flew back and drove me up there with her. She had to retrieve her car anyway, since my dad was running it into the ground.

All the way across the country, I swore to my mom that I'd never like this guy who -- in my view -- had taken her from our family. She was so happy, though. It made me wonder. She'd never seemed happy for as long as I could remember. Now she seemed 'lighter', or something. She kept telling me how fantastic this Bob guy was. How much they loved each other. I put on my headset and listened to my music. That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

We drove up in front of the house they had rented while he was building a new house just outside of town. Bob came out to help unload all the shit I'd insisted I couldn't live without. He shook my hand and smiled at me. I did all I could do to seem friendly. I decided he was okay looking, for an old man. Still I didn't want to like him. The fact that I was going to have to live in the same house with him and my mom finally hit home, though. I felt shaky inside as I carried boxes and suitcases inside.

One of the things we brought with us was a new 'assemble-it-yourself' unit to hold my computer and stereo. Bob wasted no time bringing out screwdrivers and wrenches and helped me to put it together. I watched him when he didn't know it. He seemed like a nice guy. He didn't try to make friends with me, he just worked away and asked me to hand him parts of the shelving. If he'd have started prying, I would have clammed up. As it was, I felt like it was me who had to ask questions and say things.

Before I realized it, we were having a conversation. He was treating me as an adult, not like his wife's kid. Finally, I looked at him and told him how weird it was to have a 'stepfather'. He laughed and said, "It's no weirder for you than it is for me, Honey." That was it. From then on we got to be closer and closer. He never intruded on what I considered my space. He never tried to tell me what to do unless I asked. And he made my mom happy.

The kids in school weren't very friendly to me. Bob had a daughter my age (but a year ahead of me in school) and she was a little bitch. Even Bob admitted that. He blamed that on her mother -- who still lived there, too. He said she had raised Ashley to be her little princess, and that was exactly how the bitch acted. I found out after a couple of months that she had told the other girls that if they were friendly to me, she would make their lives hell. I didn't tell Bob or Mom. I didn't want to start trouble with Bob and his daughter.

Skip ahead a year. I was eighteen that year. Mom, Bob and I had become a family. From that geographic and temporal distance, I could see what an asshole my dad had been (and still was). Mom didn't say it. Bob didn't say it -- in fact, he never has said anything derogatory about Dad. But now that I was living in a house where two people truly loved each other, where they helped each other -- not just one of them working while the other one loafed, where there was easy laughter, instead of that which comes at another's expense, I actually saw. I learned what it was like to be in a happy family.

Bob was older than Mom. He had, just the year before, been placed on disability due to a back problem. He had become a house-husband. He did all the cooking and most of the cleaning and stuff around the house. Mom worked as a director of a local business. I went to school and did the dishes at night.

Then things changed. The people Mom worked for took advantage of her. They wouldn't let her do her job, so she quit. Unfortunately, the town was so small, there really wasn't anything else for her to do there. At least nothing that would let her use her skills and degree. She finally convinced Bob that she had to take a job in Seattle that paid well. It was too far to commute, so she had to move there and come home on weekends. I wasn't bothered. I really liked -- okay, loved -- Bob for what he had done for my mom and for me. It had been his idea to bring me out to live with them. Mom said he had suggested it when they first got married, but Mom didn't want to uproot me. In fact, I liked being around Bob better than I liked being with Mom.

In the meantime, I was not being asked out on dates. The way I'd been raised, there wasn't any restriction on talking about sex. My mom was glad when I had told her I wasn't a virgin any more. So I didn't mind telling her and Bob that I really wanted to get laid. In spite of that, and in spite of all the stories I'd heard about stepfathers taking advantage of stepdaughters, Bob never did anything improper.

Once it was just the two of us, though, I started to feel kind of different toward Bob. I loved him, but now it seemed like I kind of had to fill in for my mom in a lot of ways. When it was the three of us, I would usually go up to my room after doing the dishes and get online or do homework or write. Now that it was just Bob and me, I stayed downstairs and sat with him watching TV. One of my favorite things was to snuggle up under his arm. That had started only about a month after I got there. Often, though, when Mom was there it was her place. I decided I kind of liked it that she was gone.

Still, Bob never did anything. The first time that thought popped into my head was when I realized I wanted him to "do something". I was shocked at myself. He was so much older than me, but we had no problem having a conversation that went on for hours. We gave each other backrubs. He always took his shirt off, but I had only done that a couple of times, back when Mom was home. She didn't care. I never let him see my tits, and he didn't try.

One night I asked him to rub my back. He moved so I could lay on the couch. I asked him if he minded if I took off my shirt. He didn't. I turned away and pulled it off over my head. Then I lay down on my belly. He didn't even try to see my tits. I felt safe, but I felt kind of...hurt, too. I guess that's when I started to see how far I could go.

I didn't think about my mom in all that. She was miles away, I was horny, and I was living with a man who was not my dad -- or related at all, except by law. I started going from the shower to my room in just a towel. Then, one night I stopped to talk to Bob for a few minutes before going upstairs. When I sat on the couch next to him, the towel rode up so my pussy was almost exposed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he kept his eyes glued to the TV screen. A couple of minutes later I got up and went upstairs, bending to kiss his cheek goodnight and giving him a generous view of cleavage at the same time. Still he didn't react.

The next week, I was laying in bed. We were having one of the infrequent thunderstorms we get. I decided to make a move. I got out of bed. I had put on panties and a long tee-shirt to sleep in. I pulled off the underwear and went downstairs. Bob was still in the living room. I told him I couldn't sleep. So we sat there a while, his arm around my shoulders, my legs bare to within about an inch of my shaved crotch, my feet resting next to his on the coffee table. When the program ended, he said he was going to bed. I asked him if I could sleep with him, since I was nervous about the storm. At first he made light of it and said I'd be okay in my bed. Finally he relented and I padded into his bedroom and slipped under the covers.

I knew Bob usually slept naked. I wondered if he would that night. My cunt was oozing while I waited. I was kind of disappointed when he came in wearing boxers. Still, I had all night. He slid into bed on the opposite side from me. He rolled toward me to pat my shoulder and kiss my cheek. We said goodnight and he rolled away, his back to me.

We lay there not touching for a while. I heard his breathing slow and get deeper. "Bob?" I said in a small voice. If he was asleep, I didn't want to wake him. But I wasn't brave enough to start something if he was still awake. He didn't answer, so I scooted closer to him. Once my hip was against his ass, I stopped for a while.

He didn't stir, so I rolled to my side and spooned my body against his warm back. I stuck my nose against the back of his neck and inhaled his scent. It made me dizzy and my crotch wetter. I put my arm over his side and rested my hand on his bare, hairy chest. He made a noise, but I wasn't doing anything wrong so I just stayed there. I couldn't leave it at that, though. It might be a long time before I had another opportunity like this one. I slipped my hand down to his waist. Moving slow, I let it go lower and lower until I felt the bulge under his boxers. He wasn't hard at first. But while my hand was there, I gently began to rub his dick and balls. I felt him begin to swell under my hand.

Making him hard, though, was beginning to intrude on his sleep. Just as I was realizing that the asshole who had taken my virginity didn't have much of a dick, compared to Bob's big sausage, he mumbled something and began to roll onto his back. I moved as fast as I could to get back. While I waited for him to get back to sleep, I slipped my hand under my shirt. My cunt was really dripping. I slid a finger inside myself and wriggled it. A shiver went up my spine.

I removed the finger and carefully put in under Bob's nose, smearing some of my juice on his lip. I licked the rest of it off my finger. Then I put my hand back on his cock. He was rock hard now. I wondered if smelling me was affecting his dreams.

I found the fly on his boxers and unbuttoned it. Reaching inside I took hold of his erection. It was so hot! I carefully pulled it through the open fly so it was out in the open. I stroked it for a few minutes. Then I let go of it. I moved Bob's arm so it was under my neck and he was hugging me. He woke up some then and nuzzled his head against mine. His arm tightened around my shoulders and he was soon back asleep. I went back to stroking him.

After just a few minutes, he moved again. I once again let go of his hardon as he rolled toward me this time. Now we were face to face and his hard cock was almost up against my belly. My face was only inches from his. I kissed him lightly on the lips. I caught my own scent when I did that. He put his upper arm over me and hugged me to him, but he still didn't open his eyes. I guessed he was still sleeping. Now his cock was pressed against my belly. I moved my hips back a little and raised my shirt so we could be skin to skin. It felt like a hot iron against me.

Bob liked the feeling, too, because he threw a leg over me and moved his hips against me. His hand went down to cup my naked ass and I saw him open his eyes in the dim light from the window. "Honey, are you sure about this?" he whispered. When I nodded, he brought his lips to mine and we shared our first real kiss. Then he whispered the words I will always treasure: "You have such a beautiful body, Sam. Those ignorant boys don't know what they are missing. I love seeing you naked and feeling your skin. You are beautiful." After that I would have done anything he wanted me to do.

He pulled my shirt off and pushed his boxers down. Once we were both naked, he rolled on top of me. I felt, first his hands, then his lips and teeth on my erect nipples. He moved my legs apart with his and sank in between my thighs, his hard cock laying along my wet slit. When he felt how wet I was he made an appreciative noise in his throat. I was so excited about feeling that huge cock plowing into my insides.

But Bob proceeded to show me part of the reason my mom had divorced Dad and went with him. After riding up and down the outside of my slit for a while, our lips never separating, our tongues dancing together, Bob lifted his weight and worked his way down my belly. He began to kiss, lick and nibble on my overheated flesh. I spread my legs as far apart as I could. I felt like I wanted him to just crawl inside me and lick me all the way to my cervix. When he wiggled his tongue against my clit, I had my first orgasm. He didn't stop. He sucked at me and licked. He rubbed his face around on me, like a cat against somebody's leg. He probed inside me with one, then two, then three fingers. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized he was getting me ready to take his cock. I was still very tight in those days. He even, just before he rose up to bring my own taste to my lips, dropped his head lower and licked and probed my asshole. It was like I'd grabbed a bare wire. I went off like a firecracker, throbbing and oozing -- actually squirting! -- as I came.

Then I felt him pushing the knobby head of his cock against my opening. I tried to relax and make it easy for him, but I needn't have worried. I was so wet and he knew so well what he was doing he found his way in without any trouble. He spread my labia and popped his head into me. He stopped and took it out. He repeated this several times while my excitement almost made me crazy. I wanted him to just shove the huge thing all the way! Finally he stopped teasing me and slid slowly in, up to the hilt. I felt him hit bottom and I came again. He sucked my lip and bit it lightly. He pulled almost all the way out and shoved in again. I was filled up. I dug my heels into his ass and tried to pull him to me, but he resisted. He was so strong I knew he was going to do this his way no matter what I wanted. So I let him do it.

I realized that is what women say when they say they "let a man have his way " with them. I opened my whole self to him, not just my legs. My arms dropped to the sides, My legs were siezed in his strong hands. He raised them high in the air and he began to pound at me. Again and again his hips slapped loudly against my tender crotch. I lost count of the orgasms I had.

Bob fucked me that night for what seemed like hours. In truth, it actually was just a little bit over an hour. I was so naive at the time I didn't realize how uncommon this was, even with younger men. Later relationships have shown me exactly how good he was. Most men don't last even ten minutes, and it's rare for any of them to last even a half hour before they're flopping limply out of my pussy. He was an expert at oral sex! I've never met another man who was half as good.

Not only did he fuck me for an hour the first time, but the next night, even though he didn't last more than forty minutes, he fucked me again a half hour later. This was a man in his fifties! I was too young to realize what a preciously rare man he was.

I say he "fucked" me. But that isn't true. We didn't fuck. We made love. I knew we weren't "in love", but we did love each other. From that first night on, whenever Mom was out of town, I shared my stepfather's bed. Neither of us said anything to anybody. On the surface, especially on weekends when Mom was home, we were the picture of propriety.

Mom finally decided to quit her job and came home to start her own business. She worked from home from then on. It was almost May by then. I graduated about three weeks after she moved back home. In August of the same year, I went off to college. I went straight through school and took my degree into the big city of Seattle. I had just come home from work one night when the phone rang. It was Mom. Bob had had a stroke and died. I cried with Mom over the phone, and all the way through the funeral.

We were trying to pull ourselves back together at the house that night after Bob was cremated. Most of the people who had brought food and/or drinks to the...whatever it is...the gathering after a funeral (it seems wrong to call it a party, and it isn't exactly a wake), anyway, most of them had left and it was just Mom, Linda and a couple of her friends, and me that were left. Linda and the friends were in the kitchen cleaning up.

Mom and I sat on the couch holding hands. We talked about when I first came to live with them. The words finally ran out. After a few minutes of silence, Mom turned to me and said, "Sam, I know that you and Bob had sex while I was working in Seattle." My mouth dropped open and I began to sputter. She laid a finger over my lips and wrapped me in a tight hug.

"Hush, Honey. It's all right. I knew it would happen when I left. Well, not when I left, but while I was gone I began to think it might. At first it made me feel scared. But the more I thought about it, the easier it became to accept it. Bob loved you so much. You weren't a child. You weren't HIS child, either, so it wasn't incest. I was miles away. You needed to feel wanted physically. I finally came to view it as a kind of therapy for you -- really for both of you. Bob had a problem with becoming disabled at his age.

I could tell you the exact week it happened. That weekend I came home and I just knew. Neither of you did or said anything, but I knew. There was a little sadness in me over it. But I didn't lack for love -- or sex -- from Bob, and I knew what the two of you did wasn't a sign that he loved me any less."

"I never told Bob I knew. But the weekend after you two had first made love, our sex was so great that I knew it had happened. It wasn't that he was imagining he was with you when we made love, either. He was right there with me. I think it was the idea that he could satisfy a sexy young thing like you gave him just that much more energy." Mom stopped and laughed, her eyes turned inward. "Wasn't he good, though!"

It wasn't a question. I was still in shock that she had known all these years and hadn't said anything to either of us. Not only that, but that she had accepted it and dealt with it out of the love she had for us both was an enlightenment. I took a deep breath and let it out. She collapsed iinto my arms again and sobbed. I joined her in the emptiness Bob had left in our lives. At the same time, I knew we were crying for the joy and love he had given us.

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