Ryan is a Good Step-Son

He was twenty years old, only doing what most young men wanted to do, so it shouldn't have angered me. But it did. A year ago it would have amused me, and I might even have laughed. Now though, hearing him having sex with his girlfriend was like a dagger to my heart. It was a reminder of what I wasn't getting. And to make me even more frustrated, his bedroom antics had become a regular occurrence.

I met Brad, his Father, five years ago. Both of us were instantly attracted to each other, and it wasn't long before we were planning a wedding. I didn't have children, but he had Ryan. Then he was a shy teenager, but now he's matured into a confident adult. He has his Father's good looks, so he's never without a girlfriend. He's a good Step-Son and I'm very proud of him.

For a long time, even though Brad is twenty years older than me, our sex life was wonderful. It was all I wanted, all I needed. I was completely satisfied. Then, a year ago, when he reached sixty, it started to go downhill. Slowly at first, then it quickly gathered pace.

"I'm tired, we'll do it tomorrow," soon became just, "I'm tired," and then there'd be no sex the next day. It might then be ten days or more before he was in the mood. And now it's worse than that. It's not unusual for us to go a month without any kind of intimacy.

I still loved him dearly, so I was sympathetic. He wasn't a young man anymore so his declining interest in sex was understandable. However, I had my needs, so two months ago, after I poured my heart out to him, he promised to up his game. And he did, but not for long. Now, sadly, we're back to square one. It's not that he can't get it up, it's that his desire to get it up is weak. Once a month is enough for him, but for me it needs to be at least once a week, and ideally, twice a week. And if he was to ravish me more than that then I wouldn't complain!

Apart from in the bedroom, our relationship is a good one. I've got a lot to be thankful for. Most of the time I manage to put my sexual frustration to one side, but when I hear my Step-Son grunting, and his latest girlfriend moaning loudly, it's impossible to do that.

I don't want to hear them. I'm not listening at their bedroom door with a hand between my legs so that I can finger myself. I'm in the master bedroom, with Brad next to me. He's asleep, oblivious to the noise that they are making in the next room. For me, sleep is impossible, it's going to be torture until they've finished, and because both Ryan and his partner are young, I will have to endure it for a long time.

When their love-making reached its peak, it became a cacophony of sound, with the creaking bed taking the lead role. I groaned, and then I covered my ears with my hands, but I could still hear them. I was highly aroused, but there was no outlet to my pent-up passion. I was as frustrated as a woman can ever be.

In the morning, while we all ate breakfast together, I put on a brave face. I was the perfect host to our guest, Chantelle. Last night, Ryan had taken care of her in the bedroom, and I was now taking care of her in the kitchen. Despite being envious of her because of what she was getting from my Step-Son, I liked her. She was a cut above the bimbos that he normally dated. Like the others, she was a beauty, but this one had a brain. Intellectually, she was his equal.

By nine o'clock they'd all gone. Ryan and Chantelle off to university, and Brad off to work. This was 'me time'. While having another coffee I was going to relax for at least an hour, and then I was going to do the housework.

It wasn't long before I was thinking about Ryan and his girlfriend. Another night like that would be too much to bear. Something had to be done about it, and soon, before I went mad.

I'd already tried masturbating while they were performing. I'd got a lot of pleasure from it, but when it ended it left me frustrated, even when I'd climaxed. I didn't want my fingers on my clit, I wanted a cock deep up my pussy.

There was only one thing for it, as difficult as it would be, I was going to have to speak to Ryan!

In the evening, I got an opportunity to do that because the two of us were alone in the kitchen. I knew what I was going to say because I'd spent all day rehearsing it. I was nervous, but I managed to compose myself before speaking.

"What you and your girlfriend do together in your bedroom is of no concern to me, but please keep the noise down. Sometimes you're a bit loud."

I'd expected it to be awkward, perhaps even embarrassing, but it wasn't. I'd said it casually, without any tension in my voice, and he'd calmly replied with, OK. It was as if the topic of conversation was trivial, as if I was asking him to turn the volume down on the television in his room. It felt as if a weight had been taken off my shoulders. When, two days later, Chantelle was again staying the night, I wasn't worried.

It started with them giggling, and then whatever they were doing must have turned sexual, because Chantelle was moaning. When it suddenly stopped, I smiled. Ryan must have told her to keep the noise down. I was pleased that my little talk with him had worked, but why hadn't I done it sooner? If I had, on the first day it happened, then it would have nipped it in the bud.

I was drifting off when I heard them, and now there was no way that I'd be able to sleep. They weren't just loud, they were the loudest that they'd ever been. I swore under my breath, and then I muttered, "Tomorrow I'm going to kill him."

Eventually, after a long time, it ended with his girlfriend screaming out, "Fuck, I'm in it!"

I gave a deep sigh. When was the last time that Brad had given me a climax as good as that? I couldn't remember.

My pussy was now wet, desperate for a cock, even a small one, but it was going to be disappointed. There was a yearning deep inside me that would only go away when I'd been fucked, and I might have to wait a long time before that happened. I looked at Brad, sleeping like a baby. Should I wake him up? No, it would be a waste of time.

It was another hour before I managed to get to sleep, and even then, the fire inside my pussy was still a raging inferno.

In the morning I was polite and courteous to everyone, but underneath my calm exterior there was anger and frustration. I wanted to take Brad by the scruff of the neck and shake him violently.

I'd then scream at him, "You're my husband, it's your job to keep me happy in bed."

As for the other two, it would give me great pleasure to punch Ryan hard on the nose, and then bitch-slap the slut that he was fucking.

Ryan was about to leave, and because he was the last one, I could confront him. I wasn't going to punch him, even though I wanted to, but I was going to give him a piece of my mind. However, before I could, he suddenly hugged me. So tight that it was difficult to breathe.

"Sorry, it won't happen again."

When he released me, he gave me a big smile. His handsome face was close to mine. That's when I realized, to my surprise, that instead of wanting to punch him, I wanted to kiss him, and on the lips.

As I watched him leave, my breathing was laboured, and there was that familiar tingling in my pussy. It was telling me that it wanted cock, his cock!

For the next half an hour that was the only thing that I could think about. It was ridiculous, it was stupid, and worse, it was dangerous. There were lots of reasons why it should not happen, all of them sensible. But I dismissed all of them. If Brad wasn't up to it, then his Son could take his place.

I was doing the housework with a smile on my face. It had been a problem, a big one, but I now had a solution to it. My Step-Son was going to fuck me. I was confident that he'd want to, but as time went by I started to have doubts. When it got to midday those doubts were becoming serious.

It was time to think about it again, and this time, in more detail.

I'm forty one years old, and without wanting to boast, I can say with confidence that I'm still attractive. All those hours in the gym have paid off because I've managed to keep my figure. I'm busty, but not outrageously so, and I know from experience that I have a bottom that men adore. So I have a good body, but what about my face? My full lips and sparkling blue eyes are its best feature. I've been told by lots of people that I'm beautiful, so I must be!

That self-analysis cheered me up. I was a hot MILF, so why would he say no to me?

However, was that confidence justified? I could hold my own against any woman of my own age, but Ryan always dated younger women. Women within a year or two of his age. His current girlfriend was a typical example.

Chantelle has a body type that's similar to mine. Her breasts are slightly bigger, but not by much. Comparing bottoms, mine is fuller so I'm the winner. But I can't compete against her waist, it's ridiculously narrow. She's got a pretty face, with a perfect nose, but my mouth and eyes trump that.

I was convinced that because he was attracted to her he must be attracted to me. Then I made the mistake of looking at myself in the full-length mirror in the master bedroom.

I was pleased to see that I didn't have many wrinkles, but I sighed when I remembered that Chantelle had none. And even though my breasts looked good, from the cleavage that was now being displayed, it was obvious that they weren't as firm as hers. And reluctantly, I'd have to admit to a couple of extra pounds around my waist.

I didn't want to cry, and I did my best to hold the tears back, but now they were running down my cheeks. The women that he liked were twenty years younger than me, and that would be the decisive factor for him choosing them rather than me.

But I'm a fighter. As I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand, I was determined to find a way to get him. Then I smiled, there was an ace that I could play. The twenty extra years that I had weren't necessarily a disadvantage. They were twenty years of experience. In that time I'd learnt how to flirt, and how to be seductive. How to use all of my womanly charms to entice a man.

Ryan would be putty in my hands!

They say, strike while the iron is hot. That's why I was going to act while I was still confident.

In the morning I put my plan into action. Before going downstairs I carefully prepared myself. Just a bit more lipstick than I normally use, and it was red, to emphasize my full lips. I'd taken my time choosing what to wear. I wanted Ryan to notice me. The bra that I was wearing was my best one, the bra that pushed my tits up. Covering it was a stylish top that showed off just the right amount of cleavage. Too much would have made me look like a slut. The skirt had picked itself, it was the one that matched my blouse. It was short, above my knees, perfect for showing off my slender legs.

When I entered the kitchen Brad and Ryan were already there. And as disappointing as it was, it didn't surprise me that only my Step-Son was taking an interest in me. I pretended not to notice while he looked me up and down.

While we were eating he kept looking at me, just a quick glance, and then back to his breakfast. I could read his mind. He was trying to understand the motive behind my new appearance, but he didn't want to ask me about it.

My intention was to leave it at that. Later, in a day or two, I'd do some mild flirting. However, when Brad went to work early, while Ryan was still eating his breakfast, that gave me the opportunity to do more.

When he asked for more toast, I quickly made some, but I handed it to him slowly, and while I was leaning forward. As expected, his eyes were fixed on my big tits. That encouraged me to be even bolder.

After he'd finished eating I made him another coffee, and while he drank it I did the dishes. I was at the sink, with my back towards him, but more importantly, so was my bottom, and I was bending over so that it would stick out. I didn't need to be in that position and he would know that. He would be staring at it, and feeling guilty for what he was doing, but he wouldn't look away because it was exciting him.

When I spread my legs he gasped, not loudly, but I heard it. It made me smile. Then I thought of something that made my heart beat faster and my pussy start to moisten. He might come behind me, and if he did, his hands would be all over me. He'd grope my tits, and then his other hand would be between my legs. His fingers eagerly slipping inside my panties so that he could get to my pussy. And it would end with him pushing his cock deep inside me so that he could fuck me to an epic climax.

When I heard him get up from his chair I gave a little shudder, in anticipation of what was going to happen. He did want me, and he was going to have me now, in the kitchen.

When I heard the door open, and then close, I wanted to cry. I'd offered myself to him but he'd rejected me.

But an hour later, after two coffees and a large whisky, I was philosophical. It was early days. That was the first attempt, there would be many more. I'd lost the battle but I was going to win the war!

That evening, Chantelle came over, and she was going to stay the night.

"Sorry about last time, this time you won't hear a sound from us."

Ryan sounded sincere, but I wasn't convinced. Initially, they would be quiet, but when the passion became stronger it would probably be as before. Very loud. He was about to leave me and go back to his girlfriend when I had an idea. I would tell him what I liked in the bedroom, tell him what turned me on. That might make him think about me in a sexual way, rather than just as his Step-Mom. However, I couldn't just blurt it out, but him saying that tonight, while he was having sex with Chantelle, they'd keep the noise down, had given me an opening.

"I do know that it can be difficult. When your Father is going down on me, and his tongue is on my clit, I moan as loud as Chantelle."

For a few seconds he didn't say anything, he just stood there with his mouth open. Shocked by what I'd said. When he did speak, it was to simply say, "Chantelle is waiting for me."

So he was going, but I could give him more to think about.

"Your Father can be as bad as me, especially when I suck his cock," and then, while locking eyes with him, and giving him my best smile, I added, "That's understandable because I am very good at it."

He gulped, and then his face reddened. He was blushing, and that amused me. He then left without saying another word.

What I'd said hadn't been subtle, but it had been effective. He now knew that I liked my clit being licked, and that I was an expert at giving head. Tonight, when his tongue was on Chantelle's pussy, would he be thinking about me? And when his cock was in her mouth, would he be wishing that it was in mine instead? I hope so!

That night they were respectful, with just the odd sound emanating from their bedroom. That was disappointing, because this time I wanted them to be loud. That would have given me an excuse for telling my Step-Son tomorrow, some more about what I liked in bed.

It was a few days before I realized what was happening. Ryan was avoiding me. If we were left alone in a room together then he would quickly come up with an excuse for leaving. I was not happy. We were supposed to be getting closer together rather than further apart.

It was time for a new plan!

We had an early night. In the past that would be so that we could enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, but that ship had sailed a long time ago. Now it was so that Brad could sleep, and I could have some peace and quiet while I thought about my Step-Son.

He was asleep within minutes, but I needed a lot more time than that to sort out my problem. Ryan had enjoyed looking at my tits when I'd been close to him and leaning forward, should I give him more of that while I was wearing a more revealing top? Perhaps, but letting him look up my skirt when I was wearing my most skimpy panties, would be a lot better. So, at the first opportunity, that's what I was going to do. He was in for a treat. It wouldn't be a quick flash of my underwear, it would be for as long as possible. And I knew which panties I should wear. They were small, not much bigger than a thong.

I had to wait three days before putting my latest plan into action. That was when all of us were watching television in the living room. By chance, the seating arrangement was perfect. I was on the sofa, with Brad next to me. Ryan was on the armchair that was opposite us. He was looking at the television, but if he was to turn his head to the side then he'd be looking directly at me.

I opened them slowly, only stopping when my right leg was close to Brad. He didn't notice it.

"Ryan, do you like the film?"

He turned his head, as I knew he would, so that he could answer me. His eyes were now looking at what I was offering him while he spoke.

"It's OK," then, after giving me a flicker of a smile, he added, "The old ones are the best."

They were just words, but hearing them was as if he'd licked my clit with his tongue. It excited my pussy, and it made my heart beat faster, because I was convinced that it wasn't the film that he was referring to, it was what he was staring at. It was the first indication that I'd had from him that he was interested in me. That I could be more to him than just his Step-Mom. It felt like a victory, but there was a long way to go before the war was won.

When he stopped looking at me, I made a decision. I would get him to look at me again, and when he did, his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

I got up to go to the bathroom. When I returned, I was nervous, because there was no going back from what I was about to do. Up to now, all my actions had been suggestive. This was going to be blatant.

I was sitting as before, with my legs wide open. I'd seen the film before so I knew that a car chase was about to start.

I said, "Ryan, this is worth watching."

When he saw what I'd done his eyes didn't pop out, but he did do a double take. I'd taken my panties off!

I wanted him to speak, to come up with an innuendo that would tell me that he thought my pussy was magnificent, that he wanted to worship it. However, when he eventually did say something, all I got from him was, "Yes it is."

I wasn't disappointed. The expression on his face told me more than the words had. It told me that he did want my pussy.

Showing it off to him was exciting me more than I thought was possible. I was so worked up, that if I was to rub my clit then I'd reach it within seconds. Doing that would be dangerous. Even Brad, who was not particularly observant, would notice if I had a shuddering climax while I was sitting next to him.

But the urge to do it was just too strong. My hand was almost on my pussy before he noticed. He quickly reacted to it, but not in a way that I'd expected.

As he sprang up from the chair, he said, "I'm off to bed."

Brad muttered, "Goodnight," then he continued watching the film. I removed my hand and then I closed my legs. The urge to make myself come had suddenly gone. It was as if somebody had thrown a bucket of cold water over my head.

Shortly after, I went to bed as well, leaving Brad alone to watch the end of the film. In the bedroom I went over what had happened. Putting my hand between my legs was stupid, it was just as well that he'd acted as he had by leaving the room.

So what next? I didn't know, but that was a problem for tomorrow. All I wanted to do now was to go to sleep.

At breakfast Ryan kept looking at me, but I didn't react. I wasn't in the mood for putting on a show.

"I've split up with Chantelle, three days ago."

I had wondered why she hadn't been around. He didn't seem to be upset about it, but I was. I thought that she was the one for him. I liked her, she had brains as well as beauty.