In an effort to clear my head of the taboo thoughts of sex with my stepdaughter, I told my wife I needed to do some shopping for the upcoming Christmas holiday, and I needed to do it alone.
On the way to the mall, I decided to stop at a local coffee shop for some quiet time to reflect on fucking the stepdaughter who I helped raise, who I supported through the birth of her children and the divorce of her narcissistic, asshole husband. I could not keep Joy off of my mind: her petite frame, small tits, great oval ass, lovely smile, full lips and blonde curly hair. She was a younger version of her mother, my wife, who I loved dearly and who I made love to regularly. At thirty-eight, Joy was twenty years younger than me, but in my lust-craving mind, her age and our family relationship mattered little.
Maybe as I approached sixty, fucking a woman in her thirties was just what my tender male ego needed. I tried all manner of justification, like the fact there was no blood between us and there were no laws being broken when we succumbed to our carnal desires. All I know for sure is that when I closed my eyes at night, I pictured Joy. When I fucked my wife, I thought of her daughter. And when I came, I had to concentrate and call my wife's name, not my little girl's. Something had to change.
I ordered a latte at the bar and took a seat in the corner at a table for two. I raised my hand when the barrister called my name, and I noticed a well-built, dark-haired woman in an apron bringing the steaming cup my way. I watched her boobs bounce as she walked along but I looked up at her bright red, full lips and bright white smile when she called my name.
"Tim? Tim McDonald? Is that you," the server said as she stepped to the table and set the cup and saucer down.
"Well, yes, it's me," I said, looking up and sensing a bit of familiarity. "How are you?"
She put her hands on her hips and had a sly look on her face.
"You don't remember, do you? It's Missy. Melissa," she said just as the lightbulb of recognition began to come on. "Joy's friend. From high school? Slumber parties? Sneaking beers ... you have to remember."
And I did. Melissa Hanover was two years or so younger than my Joy. They spent time together a lot in high school. They both liked the same kind of music. The same kind I liked. Classic rock 'n' roll. There were slumber parties. There were beers. There was some pot. And as I remembered, I thought, "Oh, shit. I used to stare at this teenager's tits and ass."
"Oh, sure," I said. "Melissa. So good to see you." And I meant it.
Looking over her body, I saw a stunning female. Mid-thirties. Long, curly hair that ended just about at her breasts, which were at least D cups and threatened to burst the buttons on her tight silky blouse. Her hips told me she'd had a baby or two. And I remembered her long legs as she stood about five-feet, ten-inches in her Converse sneakers. She was a sweet sight. And any chance of forgetting my stepdaughter was over. Melissa stoked embers of long-forgotten lust and my libido was ablaze.
She sat down and pulled the chair a little closer. I was staring down her blouse at lovely, full breasts.
"Do you and Joy keep in touch?" I managed to ask as my eyes reverted to her full lips and beautiful green eyes. "She's going to be in town over the holiday."
Melissa smiled at me like she knew a secret. I felt a swelling in my Levi's.
"Oh yes," she said. And then she lowered her voice. "We keep in touch. In fact, she was just telling me how you two were getting closer than ever before."
I left like I had been punched in the gut, but my cock continued to swell. What the fuck was she telling me?
"I like you, Mr. McDonald. I always have, just like Joy," she said as she stood up. "She told me all about your visit last month."
Dumbfounded, I just sat there. Dick growing in my pants. Eyes on this MILF's tits. I didn't know what to say. So, Melissa broke the silence.
"I get off work in about fifteen minutes and I think we ought to go grab a drink somewhere. We can do some catching up and maybe …”
Her voice trailed off, and this vixen gave me a smile that could melt your heart and harden your dick. She handed me her phone and said, “While you wait for me, take a look at these text messages. I think you’ll get what I’m talking about and why I am sooo exited to see you.”
She walked away and I watched her ass sway. Damn, I remember watching that ass many years ago. Melissa hadn't changed much at all, at least in my lust-filled eyes. A few more pounds, wider hips, bigger, full breasts and a more robust butt. But she was just as hot now as she was when she was a barely legal sixteen and I couldn't wait for Joy to have another slumber party. Melissa in boxers and her teen-age boobs bouncing around a loose t-shirt gave me a hard-on every time. If I got really lucky, I could spy them getting into or out of the shower, furry muffs on display, and virgin skin tempting me. If my wife was at home on those nights, she got a hard fucking as I imagined banging those teen-age cuties. She even remarked a time or two that I seemed particularly juiced when Melissa was around. On the nights when my wife was working or out with friends, I loved my job as a babysitter. I'd jerk off with those girls giggling in the other room and blast cum all over my chest.
