Heat and Longing Pt. 02

The next day felt even hotter. There wasn't even the relieving light breeze of the previous day, just an all-pervasive heat that sapped her of any energy and made her want to spend the afternoon in front of an open fridge. As the sun reached its apex, she found herself on the patio once again, her body melting into her sun lounger, like warm chocolate. Perhaps she should ask her pupils to invent melting similes: she was melting like cheese on a barbecued burger, like candle wax, like butter on hot toast.

Today she wasn't alone: her sister Cara had accepted her invitation to pop over and do a little sunbathing. They quickly changed into their bikinis in Jenny's bedroom, then slipped loose fitting t-shirts over the top, all the while somehow feeling guilty about having an afternoon with so little to do, feeling like they were kids again, bunking off from school.

"Do you want a top-up?" Cara asked as she grabbed her empty glass, the lounger creaking as she eased herself to her feet.

"No, I'm fine thanks," Jenny said.

Jenny watched her sister as she skipped up the path, hopping from foot to foot and wincing as her bare feet touched the hot paving slabs. She could hear the distant sound of the radio through the half-open window. A newsreader had gone through the headlines and had moved on to the record-breaking heat wave; peat fires on the moors up north, hosepipe bans in the south, a forest fire near Nottingham, Britain forecast to be hotter than Spain at the weekend.

"Ah, this is the life, huh?" Jenny sighed, stretching contentedly as her sister eased herself back into her lounger.

"Quite a view as well," Cara said, glancing over at Jenny over the top of her rounded sunglasses, a mischievous smile playing around her glossy pink lips.

At the bottom of the garden, Tom was still building the fence. He was bare-chested again, his shorts hugging the tight globes of his buttocks as he struggled to drive a spade into the dry, compacted earth.

"Christ, he's young enough to be your son!" Jenny said.

"I'm only two years older than you, you cheeky cow! What's Tom? Twenty-one?"

"Twenty."

"Well, fourteen years isn't much. He could be my toy-boy, keep me amused when Ralph's off with his golfing buddies."

"Keep you amused?"

"Yeah, he could mow the lawn or wash the car or something," Cara said. "I'd be happy to hold his shirt, or maybe hose him down when he'd finished."

"You're such a tart!" Jenny chuckled.

"Come on, don't play the little innocent, I bet you've found yourself looking."

"Cara! He's my stepson, it wouldn't be right," Jenny said, trying to sound indignant but, as always, feeling annoyed at how well her sister seemed to be able to read her mind. She felt her cheeks redden as she recalled spying on him in the shower, unable to turn away, drinking in every detail of his nakedness. And then recalling them later in bed as her husband slept beside her.

"Yeah, sure you haven't," Cara said, sounding sceptical.

"Anyway, he wouldn't be attracted to us, we're so old compared to him," she added.

"Speak for yourself. Anyway I hear older women are back in fashion. I hear that a lot of young men are into MILFs these days."

"MILFs?"

"Yes, MILFs, mothers I'd like to... you know, fornicate with," her sister said, and Jenny was reminded of how she hadn't heard her sister swear since the birth of her first child. "I tell you, we mature women, we're all the rage. I read it somewhere. Maybe Cosmo?"

"Yeah, well you keep telling yourself that, grandma!" Jenny said, sticking her tongue out.

"We are! I'm telling you young men these days are attracted to women with a little experience, women who know their way around the bedroom. For all you know, he might be well into it."

"Come on, Cara..."

"Anyway, I'm just saying, you wouldn't be human if you weren't tempted a little. Besides, you're always telling me how unsatisfied you are in bed, right?"

"Well, yeah..."

"So how are things?"

"Oh, you know, pretty much the same. It's his work."

There was a pause, her sister inviting her to elaborate further, but Jenny didn't really feel like talking about something so depressing on such a glorious afternoon.

"Anyway, despite what you say, I reckon if Tom needed someone to rub a little suntan lotion onto his chest, I reckon we'd be fighting over the bottle," she added.

"Or maybe the other way around," Jenny laughed. "Tom offering to oil our backs and us fighting like teenagers over who goes first."

They both laughed then lapsed into a comfortable silence, easing back on their loungers and watching as Tom manoeuvred another post into place.

After a while, Cara eased her loose white t-shirt up over her head, leaving her clad in just a bright red bikini. Despite having children her sister still had a good body, a little curvier than Jenny's with a trim waist and nicely rounded hips. Jenny had always been a little jealous of her full breasts, although hers were still pert and firm, still sitting high on her slender frame.

Jenny toyed with the hem of her t-shirt indecisively. She wanted to join her sister, but somehow it didn't seem right in front of her stepson.

"Come on, get a little sunshine onto that pale white skin," her sister insisted. "Yolo! Isn't that what they say?"

"Yolo?"

"You only live once, I thought you'd be up on the kid's lingo," she said, shaking her head. "Come on, grandma, this heat wave won't last forever."

"What, are you worried about? Tom? You think he's going to be so overcome at the sight of your pale white body, that he's going to run up here, tear your bikini off and ravish you?" she said, shaking her head. "Christ, I should be so lucky. I could do with a good ravishing."

"Yeah well speak for yourself," Jenny laughed, but relented, sitting up as she slipped her t-shirt over her head and then ran a hand through her blonde hair. She was wearing the smaller of her two bikinis, and she tugged at the top self-consciously making sure the delicate pale skin of her breasts was covered. She rubbed a little lotion onto her arms then her back then flipped over, lying face down, feeling the sun's heat warming her skin.

She hadn't been sleeping well recently and soon felt herself dozing off, feeling drowsy and relaxed, happy to let her mind drift. She was aware of Cara texting someone on her mobile (probably letting her husband know when she'd be leaving) as she closed her eyes and surrendered to the fierce heat.

The thought of Tom oiling her back kept occupying her mind. She wondered what she'd

do if he offered. Did stepmothers let their stepsons do that kind of thing? It wouldn't be that inappropriate, would it? It was a difficult area to reach properly so maybe it made sense, and she imagined resting her head on her forearms as she felt those big, strong hands sliding smoothly over her bare skin. Up and down, up and down, using long steady strokes making her forget all the stresses and strains of teaching English to another class. Trying to suppress a soft murmur of content as he traced circles around her muscles, feeling all the tension drain away, her body slowly melting like the ice cubes in her drink.

"What are you doing?" she'd say drowsily as she felt his fingers tugging at the little bow at the back of her top, unfastening it before she could stop him.

"You don't want tan line, do you?" he'd reply, and by the way he said it she could tell he was grinning.

By the time she thought to protest, she'd feel her top loosen and now his fingers would be sweeping up and down the unbroken expanse of her back, and she'd be enjoying the simple pleasure of his strong hands on her skin. After a while, he'd switch to her legs, drawing a soft moan of contentment from her as she felt those slightly rough hands kneading the soft pliant flesh of her thighs. Working in smooth circles, squeezing and massaging her skin, now glossy with lotion. His hands moving slowly higher as he stroked the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, his thumbs accidentally brushing against the taut material of her bikini where it bisected her buttocks, making her catch her breath. Then again and once more, his fingers lingering where her flesh tingled hotly, stroking her in a way that she knew wasn't accidental any more, her body responding as he touched her where Geoff hadn't touched her in weeks.

Biting her lip to suppress a hot moan of arousal as she felt her body melt, the heat gathering, her pussy becoming wet as his slick, oily fingers tracing the outline of her plump labia through her damp bottoms, becoming bolder at her lack of protest. Feeling the cool air against her naked lips as he hooked the gusset of her swimsuit aside and making her shudder and gasp by running a thick finger along her shamefully wet lips.

"No, don't please, we mustn't," she'd protest weakly as she arched her back, holding her top tight to her boobs as she twisted around, watching that mischievous grin spread across his face as he eased his khaki shorts down over his hips. Of course he wouldn't be wearing underwear and his gorgeously stiff cock would spring out, all hard and angry-looking, ready for action.

There'd be no point in shouting or screaming, their nearest neighbour was over a mile down the road and Geoff wouldn't be home for hours. And he was so young and virile, he could easily over-power her. If he dragged her upstairs she simply wouldn't be able to stop him doing whatever he wanted. To stop those strong yet slender fingers roughly pulling off her skimpy bikini and throwing her on the bed. Forcing her to do all sorts of sordid disgusting things, whether she wanted to or not.

Perhaps making her kneel before him and take that lovely big cock in her mouth. Or pinning her to the bed, both her wrists captured in one hand, the other hand over her mouth to stop her excited squeals as he forced himself inside her tight wetness, fucking her good and hard. Of course, she wouldn't want to cum, she'd feel ashamed but what could she do? With that virile, young body pinning her to the bed she shared with her husband, fucking her tirelessly, pounding her relentlessly until she could take no more, her sex-starved body responding to this carnal feast, her desire spinning out of control...

"No, please, this is wrong," she muttered as she felt fingers tighten on her arm, pulling at her, shaking her.

"Jenny? Jenny!" Cara's voice said from far away.

"What? Cara?" Jenny replied groggily, as she felt herself reluctantly returning to reality.

She turned over and rubbed her eyes as her sister came into focus, pulling her t-shirt back over her head.

"Sorry to wake you but I've got to go, Ben's cricket practice has finished early because it's too hot and they've run out of water," she explained as she quickly slipped her sandals on and got to her feet.

"Oh okay! Well nice to see you, sis," Jenny said, offering her cheek as Cara bent to kiss her.

"Thanks for the drink, I'll maybe see you tomorrow," she said as she disappeared back into the house.

Jenny took a long sip of her wine and soda and listening to the whine of Cara's car reversing down the driveway. Then she lay back down, closed her eyes and surrendered to the heat of the afternoon and whatever thoughts drifted into her head.

--

The early evening passed quickly. For once Geoff arrived home on time, and they were all able to sit down to dinner together, Jenny preparing some leftover lasagne with a simple green salad. Afterwards she was surprised when her husband told her that Tom wanted to talk about something so they were off out to the pub together. It was unusual as neither of them were big drinkers, but Jenny figured that maybe Tom wanted some help with the fence, or perhaps he needed an advance on his wages so he could go out with his friends at the weekend. Whatever the reason, it was nice to see Geoff spending some time with his usually absent son.

But that left her at a loose end. She spent much of the evening on the sofa, chatting with her sister on her mobile and flicking through the many television channels vainly trying to find something that held her interest for more than five minutes. Eventually, she gave up, deciding to retire early.

She lay on her bed, naked apart from a silky grey vest top and a tiny pair of pink panties. The bedroom windows were wide open, the faintest of breezes barely stirring the curtains and doing little to relieve the close, humid warmth. She'd read her book for a while and that was usually enough to settle her for sleep but tonight she felt restless and edgy. Too drowsy to read any more, but too tense to go to sleep. She rolled over and tugged the silky slip down over her thighs, trying to empty her mind as she was taught in her meditation classes. But it was no good, her mind kept returning to the conversation with her sister.

She was annoyed at how well Cara always seemed to guess what she was thinking. Was she that transparent? No, she decided, Cara had been thinking exactly the same thing as they watched Tom working on the fence. All that joking about Tom being her toy boy. What was the old saying? "There's many a true word spoken in jest." Cara had simply assumed that she was thinking the same thing as they watched him wrestling with one of the thick, heavy fence posts under the hot sun, his muscles taut and straining, his skin slick with sweat.

Was it really true what Cara had said about young men being attracted to older women these days? She soon drifted off into a restless sleep with that hopeful thought still in her head.

--

She woke with a start a couple of hours later. Outside she could hear the soft hiss of rain, and thunder rumbling ominously in the distance. It was a stiflingly humid night and she felt her skin clammy with sweat, her mouth dry. She reached out, trying to locate the glass of water she habitually kept on her bedside table, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.

"Damn," she muttered softly as her fingers slid across the surface, finding nothing, realising that she'd left it downstairs.

Beside her, Geoff was snoring lightly. Not surprisingly, he hadn't woken her up for a couple of hours of wild, passionate sex when he'd got back. She eased out of bed slowly, trying not to wake him.

This house was so much more spacious than the little two-bed flat she'd rented just after her divorce. She padded down the hallway, her feet sinking into the soft springiness of the new carpet as she slipped her silky nightgown over her shoulders and tightened the belt around her slim waist.

As she passed Tom's room, she thought she heard something, a soft, breathy gasp and she paused. The door was slight ajar, probably to encourage a cooling breeze. As she hesitated, she heard it again, a breathy, yearning sigh that made her edge closer. She knew she really shouldn't pry, it was so wrong, worse than spying on him in the shower and yet she knew she wouldn't be able to resist the temptation. Surely it was okay to take a little peek around the edge of the door, just to make sure he was okay?

She eased forward, holding her breath as she tentatively peered around the edge of the door. A thick silvery shaft of moonlight slipped through a gap in the curtains, angling across her stepson's prone body. He was lying face up on the bed, his legs spread, his face turned away from her as he watched the flickering images on a mobile phone clutched tightly in his left hand. The bluish light of the screen lit his face and upper chest. It was too far away for her to see clearly, but the fleshy pink hues and deep masculine moans made it clear he was watching porn. He was naked apart from a pair of shorts, and even in the semi-darkness she couldn't help but notice a large solid-looking bulge in his black shorts.

She knew it was wrong to watch this deeply intimate moment and yet she couldn't turn away. What a bad, wicked stepmother she was she thought to herself as she watched him use his free hand to massage his cock through the taut fabric. He looked so fucking hard! She couldn't resist slowly sliding a hand beneath her jade green gown and gently cupping her boob through her thin vest top. Cara was right, she thought to herself, as wrong as it sounds I really can't help fantasizing about my stepson. As she watched, he lifted his hips and eased his shorts down over his hot thighs, impatiently kicking them off his legs as he intently watched the action on his 'phone.

Jenny bit her lip, trying not to make a sound then licked her fingers. She shivered hotly as she slowly circled a silky nipple with a wet fingertip, feeling it quickly stiffen, tingling thrillingly. Inside the bedroom, she watched Tom wrap his fingers around his thick shaft, slowly beginning to slide it up and down, up and down, almost hypnotised by the repetitive movement as squeezed her nipple between thumb and forefinger, sending little electric thrills of sharp pleasure surging through her hot body.

He must been using some kind of lubricant because soon his shaft glistened, the silvery moonlight highlighting the thick cord-like veins running along its length and the fat purple head, slick and oozing with pre-cum. It was lovely and hard, and as thick the fence posts she'd watched him erect earlier.

She wondered how it would feel to steal in there and sit astride him, to wrap her slender fingers around that throbbing shaft as his eyes opened wide and she placed a silencing finger across his lips. To grind her greedy clit against that rock-hard cock, to gently ease him inside her aching pussy, taking her time, biting her lip to suppress a tense excited gasp as the bulbous head pressed against her slick entrance, trying not to squeal loudly as she felt her entrance stretch to accommodate his generous girth, to feel him slipping smoothly inside her clasping wetness.

"Fuck," she gasped under her breath as she slipped a hand between her burning thighs, finding her panties already shamefully wet. She clamped a hand over her mouth trying to stifle a sharp cry of pleasure as she caressed herself through the thin cotton, trying to satisfy the aching need within, yet only fanning the flames licking at her pussy.

Wouldn't it be terrible if he heard her, she thought as she backed away now, leaning heavily against the door frame, her knees a little unsteadily as her sticky fingers circled her swollen pussy. Of course she'd protest as he grabbed a slender wrist on one of his big hands and dragged her inside. Although not too loudly; how would she explain what she'd been doing if she woke Geoff?

Tom wouldn't need to say anything. As he forced her to her knees, his fat cock bobbing inches from her plump lips it would be clear exactly what he wanted, what he needed. She'd put up a token protest of course, and she imagined him running a hand through her short, blonde hair, whimpering as he tugged it, roughly but not too roughly. Easing her head back so that she couldn't avoid the knowing grin, and those intensely dark eyes. Seeing her now not as his stepmother, but as she truly was: a horny, sex-starved woman in need of a good, hard fucking.

Then tasting the meaty, salty hardness of his cock as he slowly eased it between her half-open lips. Hearing his low animal groan of lust as she sucked at him, at first reluctantly then more hungrily, her tongue swirling around the throbbing head. Sucking that lovely fat shaft as he told her what a horny cocksucker she was, how he'd lusted after her since they first met, fantasized about seeing her naked, about having her on her knees like this.

But he wouldn't be satisfied with just her mouth. He'd want all of her. Her hand moved slipped inside the waistband of her pink panties, her fingers caressing her slick labia as she imagined being pulled to her feet, her skimpy lingerie torn off before he threw her onto the bed. Then those rough hands, positioning her face down on all fours, roughly pulling her legs apart. Then a hand clamped over her mouth to silence her screams of pure joy as she felt his fat cock plunge inside her wetness, stretching her tight pussy, driving all the air from her lungs. That hard virile young body slapping hard against hers as he fucked her hard and fast, making her body vibrate with lusty pleasure, fucking her tirelessly, forcing her to cum, then keeping going till her body boiled over again.