Home Coming

Gage knew he shouldn't be where he was.

He'd come home from college for the weekend to have his laundry cleaned and touch base with his home town crowd. Since he attended a community college he could zip home any time, a half hour ride even in heavy traffic. He'd expected to walk in, start the laundry process going, then raid the fridge, where leftovers aced dorm food any day.

What he hadn't expected was to find himself alone with his step-mother, twenty years younger than his father's 55, in better physical shape than anyone else in the family, raring to jump his bones, ride his boner. She'd touched, smooched, hugged, rubbed against, and otherwise flirted with him for the past year, ever since his father had married her.

His own mother had divorced his father and ran off with another woman. Dad's friends and coworkers mocked him over that. His landing a sexy younger second wife shut them up, mostly. Some still wondered loudly enough for him to hear whether this one was going to elope with another woman, too, but most dropped it.

Jokes wear out like cheap carpets, Gage knew.

Still, he shouldn't have been where he found himself. His cock, harder than it had ever been, probed deeply into his step-mother's locked pussy. Her Cleopatra grip held him tightly, squeezing, rippling on his shaft until he didn't think he could hold back much longer.

"Go ahead, fill me with your come."

He shivered, a jolt of excitement tracing sharp fingernails down his spine. Letting go meant risking pregnancy. Did he want to put a baby into his own step-mom?
She wanted it, badly. "Your father can't do it, honey, but you can. Oh baby, you can fuck a baby into me right now."

He felt a tingle in his glans, like a little dog being chucked under its chin to make its tail wag. His tail clenched, prostate tight now, preparing to spurt semen into her depths of lust.

They lay on the butcher's block in the kitchen. His snack had gone nuclear when she walked in from the pool patio wearing a bikini. Hadn't taken long for her to be naked, pressed against him, guiding his hands and kisses. Before Gage knew it, he'd hefted her onto the butcher block, knocking off a set of knives in the process. He jumped up, leaned over her, and was inside her before conscious thought kicked in.

Thrust after thrust, moan after grown, pleasure swelled toward bursting.

Her tiny squeals as her belly clenched again and again mixed flares of heat and chills of forbidden passion through him. Gage sighed and let go, let himself flow, poured his come into her hard enough to fountain from her opened lips, or so it seemed. Through his seven spurts her inner muscles milked, twisted, and wrung him dry.

His muscles went lax and he flopped onto her.

She grunted at his weight, kissed, then nibbled his throat, moaned. "So fucking good, oh baby."

A rattle of brass knob, creak of hinge, whoosh of door opening slashed panic through Gage, who couldn't move. If he stayed still maybe he wouldn't be noticed.

A door slammed, footsteps approached. His father's throat was cleared by a cough bordering on a gag. "What the fuck?"

"Fucks better than you."

Gage pushed up and back. His cock, still hard, slid from her with a faint pop, trailing semen and quim that puddled under her ass on the butcher block's inlaid wood. He slipped off the edge and stood, naked, tip of his cock grazing the side of the butcher's block. It tingled, his cock throbbing.

His father's gaze remained locked on his second wife's oozing fuck hole as it drained a shared liaison now, a miniature cascade of white water thickened by foam and fun. "What the absolute fuck?" He glared now at Gage. "What are you trying to do? Who started this?" He paused, trembling, pointing at the spreading pool of fuck goo. "This travesty?"

"Dad, I—."

"Shut up!" He still held his briefcase in one fist. He stood in his overcoat gaping as if at a delicatessen display of fine meat.

His wife winced, her belly clenching as her caress gave her a clitoral orgasm. Her labia minora opened and closed over and over.

She let her head loll to face her husband. "Now, Steven, don't let's get all macho. Remember your blood pressure." As she spoke, she caressed her clitoris, smearing it with juices as she lay still sprawled wide open, chasing yet another quiver of ecstasy. Shameless and wanton described her.

"Monica, damn you. Why'd you marry me if —?"

She sat up, squishing the slime under her, and slid forward, leaving a snail trail. Hopping down, facing Gage, she grabbed his cock in one hand. "This is why, you fat old limp moron." She smiled at her husband and slipped her hand lower to cup Gage's balls. "I married you to get this."

She bent down and took Gage's cock into her mouth, sucking hard, then let it go with a loud pop. Smacking her lips, she stood up and smiled.

Gage stood stricken, trembling not from cold but from being caught in flagrante delicto as those old melodramas put it. He'd studied them for his Noir Cinema class, black-and-white films of men in fedoras smoking and women in revealing gowns slinking and seducing. What would happen next if this were a film?

Someone would be murdered.

A tremor of fear skewered him and his erection finally wilted.

He couldn't look away from his father's face. Red, mottled with white splotches, it pulsed, purple beginning to show on his lips. He looked ready to burst like an over-cooked blood sausage. His expression went from stunned and puzzled through angry and outraged to pole-axed, mindless.

Gage lunged but couldn't get there fast enough to keep his father's head from bouncing off the floor as he fainted.

"Sounded like a dropped cantaloupe."

Kneeling by his father, Gage looked up at his step-mother. "What're we gonna do?"


She licked a finger, gave him a vamp look. "We could go upstairs and do it all again better, on the bed."


Gage glanced at his father. Unconscious but breathing. He'd lay there a while, wake with a headache, maybe remember what he'd walked in on.

Maybe not, though.

Between a knock on his head and a strong urge not to believe what he'd seen, he might block it out. People did such things all the time.

"Hey." She bumped Gage's shoulder with a bare hip. Her fur glistened, still damp. "Come on."

He stood and so did his cock.

He followed his step-mother up the stairs, gaze on her ass, so small, hard, and tight. The way it twitched as she climbed the stairs gave him lots of daring ideas. He knew she'd let him.

Her year of flirting promised endless pleasures from simply to Gordian knot kinky. Unraveling her complexities would prove a strenuous endeavor.

Gage came home, and came and came, every chance he got, including skipping classes sometimes.

Being where he didn't belong became home for him soon enough. He'd live inside her if he could, he told her once, and she'd laughed. "Honey, you're welcome to visit anytime but you should live here." She squeezed his cock. "Right in that stiff little joy buzzer of yours. Think with both heads."

When his little brother came along Gage watched his father's pride chip at the edges as his wife kept glancing at him, her step-son, with a sly look.

If his father remembered what he'd walked in on, he never said anything further about it.

He graduated and got a local job and an apartment even closer than the school to his family home. He loved coming home to visit.

/ Everett Bedford