When Joanna, a thirty-six-year-old mother of three, finally opened the door, she greeted her guest with a predatory squint of her brown eyes and glorious cleavage.

Target acquired.

Her stepson’s face was tight. She could see Kit’s chest heave in a deep breath. And his eyes were squarely on her face, no doubt trying hard not to look down at the breasts ready to burst out of the lacey neckline of her cream white silk camisole.

She even shifted her weight, feigning impatience, but hoping a little jiggle of her bosom would bring his attention to the hard nipples pointed at him.

No luck. His grey eyes were not budging.

“What is it?” she said with an annoyed sigh.

Listen to him stammer, she thought, waiting to see how he’d answer.

“I came for dad’s stuff, ma’am,” he said in a clear, calm voice.

“Oh, right,” she said. She opened the door wider for him. She turned and as she walked, she reached behind to adjust the silk shorts of her sleepwear.

She looked back in time to see his eyes shoot away from her bottoms and her legs.

Gotcha, she thought.

“It’s on the kitchen table,” she said coolly.

He nodded and followed her.

She had to remember that Kit had always been respectful, almost servile, or robotic in his good manners, especially around her. Even if he was turned on, it would take extra work to break his resolve.

While he rummaged through the boxes on the kitchen table, she leaned on the doorway with her arms and ankles crossed.

“How have you been?” she asked.

His face shot up at her. He looked confused. “Fine?”

“It’s not a trick question.”

He nodded. “Okay?”

“You want lunch?”

He went back to the boxes. “No, no, I’m good.”

She walked behind him to the fridge. “Lemonade? I made some this afternoon. With a splash of pineapple, the way you like.”

When he looked over at her, she leaned on a counter, her smooth legs bent, the silk tap pants hugging against her hips, a dangerous smile on her face.

“What is this?” he had to ask.

“What’s what?”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

“I’m a nice person,” she insisted.

“Not to me.”

“Oh, Kit…” she said. “I know we haven’t always been…friendly…”

He scoffed.

She looked offended. “But we can change that. Can’t we?”

He scratched his head and shrugged. “I guess.”

“No, really. Can we?”

He stared around the kitchen, thinking about it. She didn’t want him to do too much thinking here, especially with all the hell she had put him through growing up.

She pulled away from the counter and went to him.

He stood up firm and straight as she came closer to the tall twenty-year-old.

“For example,” she began.

She tapped two playful hands on his chest.

“Whoa,” she chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “At ease, soldier. Anyway.” She patted him again. “For one thing, we… have never… hugged! Have we?”

He shook his head. He stood tall and resolute, but his eyes were skirting around her face, trying to understand this situation.

“Shame on us,” she exclaimed. Then she lost her smile. “Shame on me.”

Her hands slid around him as she cuddled into him. She could hear him breathing. She could feel his heart beating against her chest.

“Hugging is a team effort, Kit,” she said.

He hesitantly put his muscular arms around her. It had been almost ten years since they had any physical contact. She could feel his hands enjoying the soft silk on her back. His face was in her hair. But he was still holding back. She tugged him closer. He let out a little gasp of surprise. He was trying to keep his waist away from her, she realized.

She lowered her hands to his lower back and tried to draw him nearer.

There it was!

She could feel the hardness. He knew she could feel it. He panicked.

He tore away from her and turned his body so she couldn’t see him adjust his pants.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I-I’ve gotta use the bathroom.”

“No, you don’t, Kit,” she said. “Wait.”

He tried to stammer something else.

“What’s the problem?” she asked.

“I’m just not used to you being so nice, I don’t know.”

“What? Am I that terrible?”

He didn’t want to answer that. He instead grabbed one of the bigger boxes. “I should just go. Dad’s waiting for these.”

“Some of your stuff is in there,” she said.

“I know, thanks,” he said.

“Some of your old drawings from high school.”

“Right,” he said. Then he remembered something. He whipped around to face her. “You saw them?”

She nodded.

“They’re not you.”

“They sure look like me.”

“No, it’s just that maybe I remembered your face or something—”

“And my old outfits, my old hairstyles. They’re pictures of me, Kit.”

“No, they’re not!”

“Yes, they are. I liked them.”

She came to him again and touched his arm, making him put down the heavy box.

“They’re a bit idealized,” she said. “But they’re very good. Even the naked ones.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry about those. I was a kid.”

“I didn’t realize you felt that way about me all that time,” she said. She pushed him towards a chair. “Sit. And me, on the other hand, I was nothing but rotten to you.” As he sat, she put an arm around him and bent down to bring her face close to his. “I’m so sorry, Kit.” She kissed his cheek. “So sorry.” She wanted to kiss the other cheek and leaned onto his lap to get to it.

He was starting to breathe hard again with her sitting on his lap. The kisses were not stopping. The hardness was coming back. She could feel it bumping against her thigh, anxious to come out.

She tapped her cheek with her finger. “Kiss your stepmother, Kit.”

He gulped. He pushed a strand of hair away from her face.

She timed her moan perfectly. Just as his lips smooched her face, she said, “Mm.” He adjusted himself in his seat. “Again,” she said.

He took another deep breath before doing it again. His arms wrapped around her. He kissed her again and again. She smiled. She turned to face him. His face looked like he was in pain. How long has he wanted to kiss her? Or how long has he wanted love from her? A little twinge of guilt passed over her.

The mission, she reminded herself.

She pecked him on the lips. He gasped in surprise. She giggled at his reaction. She pecked him again.

“Boo,” she said playfully.

And he lost it!

He smashed his lips against hers and kissed desperately. He tightened his arms around her. When she looked away, he kissed up and down her neck and shoulder. When she looked at him again, he went for the lips again. But he was hungry. He wanted tongue. She couldn’t stop him. All she could do was let out whimpers of surprise.

The table was in the way. Despite the heavy boxes on the table, he pushed it back so he could have more room to embrace her and bend her back and kiss his way down to her cleavage.

She tried to get away.

One of his arms went under her knees as he scooped her up and dropped her back on his lap. A hand went under her camisole. He also held the back of her neck. His lips attacked the top of one breast while the adventurous hand crawled its way to the other and grabbed it, squeezing it with desperate strength.

“Kit, kit,” she panted. “Wait, wait, Kit.”

The spaghetti straps of her camisole were lowered.

“Slow down, Kit,” she begged.

Bare breasts were exposed in the kitchen.

“Oh, God,” she cried out with her stepson’s face buried in her chest.

One of his hands was on the move.

It landed on her knees.

Moved up to her thigh.

Dug into her inner thigh.

She grabbed it before it could make it to its destination.

This made Kit stop.

Joanna sat up.

They stared at each other breathing hard.

A car honk outside made Kit come to his senses.

“Oh, God, what the fuck am I doing?” he said.

He pulled his hand away from her and held his head.

“Rachel,” he muttered.

His girlfriend.

Drat, Joanna thought. She wanted him to slow down, not stop altogether.

“Forget Rachel,” she cooed.

“What?” he said angrily.

“I don’t like how she treats you. Your dad said it, too.”

He tried to get up. “I have to go.”

She didn’t let him. “It’s true.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“She treats you like a punching bag. Why do you put up with that?”

He tried to get up again. She pushed him back down. She stood up but only to return to his lap, this time straddling him, facing him. She grabbed his face. He looked like he was about to cry.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “You’ve always been a…a bitch to me. Is this about me? Are you trying to get back at dad?”

She kissed him. “Yes.”

“Cause of the divorce, right? This is like revenge?”

She licked the outline of his lips and kissed him again. “Sure.”

“That’s just--,” he tried to say. “That’s just wrong.”

She stood up a little to bring her breasts to his face. “You’re right.”

His hands had been around her waist. But when she stood up, his hands dropped to her behind. He fondled the silk bottoms. He caressed her bare thighs. Then he grabbed a fistful of those silk bottoms.

She dismounted him, just so that he could peel those tap pants down.

“Oh, my Lord,” he said.  

His drawings had neglected the lovely bushy pubic hairs of her mound.

She hadn’t planned on getting naked, but there she was, pulling the camisole over her head.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said as he beheld his stepmother’s naked body.

She turned around. A beautiful behind. He had gotten that part right in his pictures. She sat on him, right atop his erection. He gripped the seat of his chair as she began grinding that wonderful behind into his crotch, up and down and around against his erection. No lap dance he had ever gotten could compare to this.

She leaned her body against him, her head against his. He wrapped one arm around her chest and touched her breasts. He slid the other hand down her torso and hesitantly touched the hairs of her womanhood.

“It’s okay, Kit,” she whispered.

He pressed his hand between her legs.

She let out a labored breath. “Keep going, Kit.”

He cursed in awe as he felt the wet lips of her pussy.

“Kiss me, Kit,” she muttered.

He turned his face to get to her lips. She could see the pain, the pleasure, the confusion, the attraction on his face. It made sense. She used to be the “evil stepmother.” Now he had her evil tongue in his mouth, her bountiful breasts in one hand, her goddess ass against his cock, and his other hand on the surface of Venus. They kissed noisily and desperately.

The doorbell sounded.

They continued kissing, loudly, wetly, passionately.

Two more doorbells.

They slowed down.

They stared at each other.

“He’ll come in,” Kit warned.

“Let him,” she said.

“We should stop,” he decided.

She stood up and looked down at him. He picked up her camisole, handed it to her, and watched her put it on. He picked up the bottoms. She lifted a foot. He chuckled. He helped her put it on.

She also put on the robe that she had taken off before he arrived.

He adjusted his pants and picked up the heavy box and followed his stepmom to the door.

Sean, his dad—and her soon-to-be ex-husband—was waiting.

“What took you so damn long?” he said. “I didn’t want to have to come in.”

Kit apologized.

“Hi, Sean,” Joanna said.

“Whatever,” he replied. “Let’s go,” he said to Kit.

Kit trudged along to bring the box to the car.

Sean noticed Joanna’s smile as she stared at Kit walking away.  

“What?” Sean said.

She had planned to say something hurtful. Instead, she said, “I might gather up more of your stuff in a few days.”

“I don’t want to come by here again,” he said.

“Send Kit.”

“Oh, really?” he said, surprised. “Thought you didn’t like the boy. That’s why I sent him in.” He laughed to himself. “Just to annoy you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s growing on me.”

Her husband lost his smile. He noticed her in sleepwear in the middle of the afternoon.

“Bye,” she said quickly, closing the door.

She peered out the window to look at Kit in the passenger seat of Sean’s SUV. He noticed her. Sean noticed her, too, before she let go of the curtain.

She had wanted to tell Sean, “I just seduced your firstborn, you twerp. The bastard you didn’t tell me about till after the marriage.”

That had been the plan. Hurting Sean may have been fun, but plans change.

And seducing Kit again might be even more fun, she thought with a sneaky grin.