In a Different League

My entry in the Literotica 2022 April Fools Day Story Contest.

One -- Out of Her League

I never quite knew how to describe my relationship with Sharon Johnson. She was certainly not my girlfriend. At thirty-seven she was eighteen years older than me for a start -- almost twice my age. A 'friend with benefits' didn't quite cover it either as we were hardly friends. My nearest guess was a 'fuck buddy,' but in the end, Sharon summed it up best in her broad London accent.

"He's me delivery boy. Delivers me parcels and delivers the goods when I need him to!"

And for that, I was eternally grateful. Sharon Johnson did things to me no girl had ever done before and in all likelihood very few would do again. I couldn't work out whether she had spoiled me for the future or given me an education for which I could never repay her.

I'd had a few decent comings together with girls in my fledgling dalliance with the opposite sex and unfortunately a floundering and doomed relationship had recently ended. At nineteen, I was footloose and fancy free and on the market, but despite the odd one-nighter, there were few takers.

My home life was hardly a bed of roses. My father had recently remarried and his new wife Cameron was a distraction to say the least. It annoyed me that she had not taken our family name of Allen and retained her surname of Morton. She was forty-two going on twenty, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable in her company. She seemed to sneer at me at every possible occasion, not helped by one of the first times we met.

She was a tall, well-built woman, with very alluring breasts and usually wore dresses or tops that showed them off in all their finery. The day she first caught me staring at a very pleasant cleavage as she was about to leave the house, her haughty, arrogant voice cut through me like a knife.

"Hoi, stepson. My eyes are about eighteen inches above your gaze, you little perv. Stop mentally wanking over my tits."

I reddened and began to stammer an apology. She merely squeezed her breasts together. "Out of your league. Dream on, little boy." She playfully tickled me under the chin. "Out of your fucking league. Enjoy your day, Tom. I hope you dream of me tonight!"

I was left staring at the front door, my erection already a thing of the past.

I didn't dream of her but I thought of her as I shot my load into a wad of paper tissues, imagining those wide, sultry lips closing over my erection. She wasn't a great beauty but there was just something about her slightly heavy features that captivated me. She had a short bob of blonde hair, feathered into her neck, and pale blue eyes. Her voice was upper-class English and it made her all the more commanding. I fantasised about her for weeks and could barely look her in the eye around the house, much to her amusement. Her barely concealed contempt made me all the more determined to fly the coop. My sister had managed to get her own place with her boyfriend shortly after Cameron moved in but I was still trying to earn enough money to move out and rent my own place. Three days a week working in a local music shop wasn't doing it for me, so I took a second job as a delivery driver.

It was hard work and long hours, but at least the delivery depot on the southern edge of London was only a few miles away, so my rounds were usually in a reasonable radius from home.

And soon there was one very distinct bonus attached to it.

Almost as soon as I started, I began to deliver parcels to the home of a lady called Sharon Johnson. At first, I thought she had just been sent to intensify the torture I felt at being around Cameron. I also knew from the start that this pneumatic, enhanced, tattooed woman was no lady, but like Cameron, she intrigued me and soon vied for my stepmother's unwitting attentions in my nocturnal activities.

And as with Cameron, there was just something overpoweringly sexual about her. Her breasts were obviously enhanced and her cleavage made my stepmother's look flat-chested. Everything about her indicated she was no stranger to having work done - her lips, eyelashes, the piercings and tattoos, that perma-tan and those outrageous tits. The overall effect was sex on legs and it would not have surprised me in the least to see her pop up on one of my frequent surfing sessions.

Little did I know as I delivered my first small parcel to her that very soon my life was about to change in so many ways.

I drove up to the gates of an exclusive estate a mile or so from home. Our place was not bad but the eight houses in the gated community were in a different league, much as my stepmother thought of herself. I pressed the intercom for number five and fully expected to hear a cultured accent respond.

Instead, I did a double take as a woman with a gravelly Cockney twang answered. "If you've got me delivery, yer over twenty minutes late. The app sez two o'clock at the latest. It's nearly 'alf-past. Get yer arse into gear and hurry up -- I got fings to do."

Already in my short career as a delivery driver, I hated estate complexes. They were usually just that - complicated and hard to navigate. I preferred to pull up outside a normal house in a normal street, knock on the door and be gone in a minute. All that faffing with intercoms, gates and winding driveways drove me crazy and I inevitably fell behind on my tight schedule.

It took a couple of minutes to find the right property in the maze and when I pulled up, she was standing in the doorway, foot tapping, her face like thunder.

I made my way towards her with trepidation, expecting a volley of abuse. Instead, she held her hand out with a smile. "Was gonna get all unnecessary on yer, then I realised yer just a lad. No fun to be had, so I'll let yer off - this time."

I handed her the parcel. "Sorry, been an accident up on the High Street. Causing a bit of chaos."

She signed my proffered pad with a barely discernible squiggle. "Yeah, yeah, I believe yer, millions wouldn't. New ain't yer?"

In my limited experience, it was unusual for anyone to engage me in conversation. "Yes, my third week. Doing three days a week on a local round to see how it goes."

She tapped the parcel on her hand. "Be seein' a fair bit of yer then. Get a lot of deliveries so I do. Wore the last poor bugger out! Right, well thanks... what's yer name?"

Now I was completely taken aback. "Tom. Tom Allen."

"Hi Tom, I'm Sharon. I know it don't seem likely but I live here. I'm not the cleaner, honest!" She let out a throaty chuckle. "Best let you get on, eh? You got time to make up. Don't be late next time or I might not be so nice!"

The look she gave me rivalled the ones Cameron employed to make me squirm. Just what I needed -- another pneumatic, older cock-tease to drive me up the wall.

I pulled away and glanced in the mirror. She regarded me with an amused expression, knowing full-well the effect she had on me.

As with Cameron, I couldn't get her out of my head for the rest of my round. She was a real pocket battleship - short, with long, lustrous black hair and big, wide eyes with false lashes. She sported tattoos from her elbows upwards and I was mildly surprised to notice that they were quite elegant and understated, unlike some of the sights I saw on the internet and even around town. Her nose was pierced with a small stud and I would have given short odds that there was metal embedded in more intimate places. I also wondered if her studio tan was all over or stopped at her bikini line. Once again I knew where my bet would be placed.

Normally she was the sort of woman I wouldn't give a second glance to - all brash bravado and overt sexuality, but somehow with her it worked. Like Cameron, she was no great beauty but just the right side of Chav to ring a few bells for me. I hoped she was right and I would be seeing her regularly.

Back home, things were going from bad to worse. Cameron revelled in giving me a hard time, all meaningful stares, the odd lick of her lips or flick of her hair. One day, she caught me staring as she stood out in the garden, smoking. She took a pull on her cigarette and let out a long, thin stream of smoke as she touched her left breast, grinning wickedly. The next morning, when I was having breakfast, she walked into the kitchen, picked up a banana from the fruit bowl and left without a word, holding it to her mouth.

I almost had to pop one out before my day at the music shop in town. The bitch knew just which buttons to press and had me on a string. I tried to avoid her thereafter but once more our paths crossed when I returned from the music shop on my bike and went to lock it up in the garden shed. She was in her favourite smoking spot, leaning on the doorpost of the conservatory, but this time her phone was clamped to her ear.

As I knelt down to lock up my bike she gazed off into the distance as she spoke into the phone. I began to harden as I gazed on those wondrous breasts and once more imagined her soft lips going down on me. As if she knew she was being watched, she squeezed her left tit and her eyes flickered as her conversation continued. I had no idea who was on the other end, but I hoped they were in for the long haul.

In the end, it was over five minutes and I was rock hard by the time she finished her call and put her phone in her bag. She replaced it with her inevitable cigarette and blew out a plume of smoke. I had hoped she may have moved indoors, but now I was going to have to walk past her to get into the house.

As I approached, she blocked my way and looked me up and down, her face a mask of pure contempt. "Enjoy that, little perv? Nice view of my tits when you were on your knees?"

I stammered out a denial, but she merely pointed to the open door of the conservatory. The reflection in the door gave her a perfect view of the shed from which I had just ogled her and my blush was not long in forming.

"Don't bullshit me, little boy. I thought you were about to have a wank." She took her breasts in her hands and thrust them out towards me. "Go on, we both know you want to. Leave a little puddle on the path to show your appreciation."

I shook my head. "Fuck off, Cameron. You're just a bloody cock-tease. What is it with you? Give it a rest, eh?

Before I could react, she took my left hand and placed it on her breast. "Have a little squeeze. Just a quick grope -- probably all it will need to get you shooting in your pants. Let's face it, it's all you're ever going to get."

In a moment of defiance, I gripped hard, making her gasp. She took a long pull on her cigarette and blew a thin stream of smoke in my face. I was determined not to turn away despite the discomfort and held her gaze as my fingers kneaded her soft flesh, feeling the hardness of what I took to be a nipple bar against my palm. Her eyes blazed into mine as she realised I was not going to back down.

Once more, I was slow to react as her right hand shot out and slapped me hard across the cheek. It stung like hell, but I maintained my grip on her and took the cigarette from her hand and ground it out under my boot. I clamped my mouth to hers and pressed hard against her as she wriggled in my grasp, hands slapping at my shoulders as she tried to free herself.

I pulled away and she glared at me. "Fucking hell, you've got balls, I'll give you that. But I do the fucking teasing, Tom. If that happens again, your father gets to know."

I swallowed hard realising that despite her actions I had overstepped a mark. "Just back off then or I might tell him about you. What's your game, Cameron?"

She shrugged, an amused look on her face. "Just that - a game. You stare, I react. I just like to see pathetic little boys wriggle on my hook. No chance of reeling you in though. Just throw you back into your little puddle and move on. A bit of fun for me and lets you know where your place in this world really is. Cut you a deal, Tom. Stop fantasising about burying your face between these puppies and I'll go easy on you. Well, maybe a little easier -- can't say I'll back off altogether. It may be like shooting fish in a barrel, but it is so much fucking fun."

"Glad it's fun for you. Yeah, whatever. I won't hold my breath though." I made to step around her, but she put a hand on my chest.

"Shall I?" A hand caressed me down below and I wanted to slap her back as a smug grin crossed her face as she squeezed me hard. She shook her head. "Nah, not worth the bother. Probably on a fucking hair trigger anyway. Still got it though, haven't I? Sorry to let you down, but I play with the grown-ups, Tom -- not the kindergarten. So fucking well stop perving after me -- I'm in a different league, little boy."

I tore her hand from my nether regions and barged past her, stinging more from being called a 'little boy' than her slap or her put down of my equipment. Her laugh cut through me like a knife as I went back to my room crestfallen.

She certainly was in a different league and while I didn't stop fantasising about her tits, I did try to stop staring. She was as good as her word about backing off, although things were distinctly uncomfortable when my father was away - which was a lot. Many a night I lay in bed hoping my bedroom door would open and she would slide in next to me and take me to places I could only dream about.

As summer receded and autumn took over, I was both horrified and delighted to see that she was a devotee of leather trousers and boots. I had long fantasised about women in leather and seeing Cameron in her finery made it all the more difficult not to look at her longingly. One particular pair of boots had me in bits -- a dark burgundy colour, with straps and buckles galore that I could imagine raking my back as I lapped at her.

There was no doubt that my stepmother was putting me through hell, and just when I thought it couldn't get much worse, it went nuclear.

I had arranged to go away for a weekend with Sondra, a girl I had known for a while. Just a bit of fun down on the south coast. It was out of season and it would be quiet -- give us plenty of time to spend together and who knew, something might just come of it other than a few energetic bonks. It would be nice to get away. My father was off on business again so I would not have to spend the weekend avoiding Cameron.

I was just about to leave work and pick her up when she texted me to cry off. No excuse, barely an apology and I just hoped I wouldn't lose the cost of two nights in a B&B when cancelling at such short notice. In the end, I lost my twenty percent deposit, which was bad enough, but it could have been worse. I drowned my sorrows with a few of the guys from the music shop in the pub across the road and left my van parked around the back of the shop to pick up the next morning.

It was about a mile home, and I arrived back around ten in the evening slightly the worse for wear, dreading coming across Cameron and already wondering what I could do to stay out of her way for the duration. As I didn't have to be up early, I bought a four-pack of beer on the way. With no food in me, it was probably a poor idea, but I didn't care.

The downstairs was in darkness and I hoped Cameron was out for the evening. One upside was that she had a wide circle of friends so she was out of the house a lot when my father was away.

As I reached the top of the stairs, my heart sank as I saw a sliver of light spilling out from her bedroom door into the hallway. My night was going from bad to worse. By now I should have had the energetic Sondra bouncing on me -- she loved to go on top -- but I'd now have to use headphones during my surfing and keep quiet instead.

I hoped I could pass her door without being noticed but was never very good at stealth. In my computer games, I went in all guns blazing, even when a stealthy approach was recommended. I was much the same in real life. I tried to stick to the far wall of the hall as I approached but as I got near, I stopped in my tracks. The unmistakeable sound of her haughty voice carried in the still night air.

"Oh fuck yeah, just like that. Lick the fucker -- yeah. Get that tongue in deep. Oh shit, it feels so good!"

In a daze, I kept going to my own room two doors down. The bloody bitch was screwing some other bloke when my Dad and -- so she thought - I was away! I put my beer down and sat on the bed, my mind going fifty to the dozen. I was barely aware of getting up and sneaking into the spare room, the one between the master bedroom and mine. I put my ear to the wall and could hear breathy sounds and more dirty talk, urging on whoever was working between her legs. I listened for a minute or two, my erection straining at my trousers.

Then she blew my world apart.

"Fuck, you are good, girl. Can't wait to taste yours. Wish that fucking husband of mine was as good as you!"

I almost flipped. Her voice was laden with lust and somehow I was slightly relieved that she was with another woman and not some random bloke. I was also mightily turned on. I love watching women going at it on the internet and now I had a woman I lusted over doing that very thing in the next room to me. I decided there was only one thing for it -- I needed to see what was going on.

I shuffled awkwardly along the hall on my hands and knees, praying the door would be open wide enough to see the action. To my relief, it was and I was rewarded with the sight of a pair of ample buttocks grinding down on her unseen partner as she lapped at my stepmother's pussy. The view was narrow and restricted and I dared not push the door open any further. The dim light didn't help, but I could see enough to now be very aroused indeed.

Cameron's head was tilted back, her hands squeezing her huge breasts. She faced half-away from me, but the angle meant I got a fine view of her right breast and it was everything I had hoped -- firm and large and tipped with a lovely fat nipple that was indeed bisected by a metal bar, as I had suspected.

As I took my phone from my coat pocket, I prayed she wouldn't turn her head. However she seemed too preoccupied for that and there was no way her partner could see me. Cameron was still obviously talking dirty, but her voice was now low, so I couldn't make out the words.

I took a few shots of the scene, then switched to video and held it up with a trembling hand to try and get the best view of proceedings. I managed to get about fifteen seconds before Cameron straightened up and began to change position. I longed to see more but there was no way I could risk being seen. If she turned around, she would undoubtedly see me skulking in the doorway and anyway, once she was off the other woman's face, whoever she was would have a clear line of sight to me.

I rolled out of sight just in time and heard a long, drawn out sigh. "Fuck, that snatch is a thing of beauty, girl. Your turn!"

I was tempted to get another eyeful, but if I watched any more, I'd be wanking on the spot and would surely be found out.

Instead, I crawled back to my room and jacked off to a video of my stepmother and her friend going at each other in Sapphic bliss while they were still at it two rooms away. I then transferred the evidence to my laptop and deleted it from my phone ready to watch again on the bigger screen.

I was about to do just that when I heard a crunch of heels on gravel on the driveway. My side window looked down onto the drive and a short figure with dark hair walked down the path to the main road. I cursed that for some unknown reason, the security light didn't come on as she turned and waved up to my stepmother's window. There was a pause, a flash of a lighter and the glow of a cigarette in the dark and she was gone.