Jay was, in many ways, extremely lucky. He lived in a big house, in the nice part of town. His dad was rich, so he rarely had any wants. The latest, expensive game system? Sure. A fancy car on his sixteenth birthday? You got it. He even had a small circle of friends.

One place where he wasn't lucky was in romance. He'd never exactly been a shining example of masculinity. He was scrawny, with a flat, hairless chest and noodle arms. He'd had one extremely awkward kiss with Gwen Adams at prom. She'd only agreed to go with him out of pity. Ever since then, he'd just settled for porn.

Maybe that's why Jay ended up with such a... strange relationship with his stepmother, Taylor. His mom died when he was young, leaving Jay alone with his dad for a while. Well, with how much he worked, it was more that he was just... alone. Then, around the time he was graduating high school, Taylor came into his life. She was gorgeous. Early thirties, tall, long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, an absolutely dazzling smile. She was sexy, too. Pronounced chest, flat, toned stomach, an ass you could bounce quarters off of. But it wasn't just her sex appeal that drew Jay to her. It was her confidence. She held a poise and charisma that girls his age simply didn't. When she entered a room, she drew every eye around her.

To say he had a crush on her would be an understatement. He was like a lost puppy, desperate for her attention. And she seemed to know. He WAS being pretty obvious. She didn't seem to mind, though. One time she'd caught him watching as she bent over to stick some cookies in the oven. She'd looked over her shoulder to say something to Jay as he sat on the kitchen island. She caught him staring at her ass as it strained against her tight jeans. His eyes snapped up and locked onto hers. He just looked back at her, too stunned to speak. Realization seemed to bloom in her eyes, and a smile slowly blossomed on her face. She seemed to make a show of straightening up, sticking her ass out as she did. She pulled her thin, green tee shirt more securely down, making it strain against her boobs. Finally, she turned fully, winked at him, and walked away.

Jay went upstairs and into his room, locking the door. He collapsed onto his bed, hands already fumbling with his belt. Once his cock was free, he wrapped his hand around it and began to stroke. He closed his eyes, picturing the encounter with his stepmother going a different way. He pictured her slowly walking backwards with her ass sticking out until she was pressed against his crotch. She gyrated, rubbing his cock against his jeans.

"Fuck," he hissed as jolts of pleasure went up his spine. It didn't take long for his breathing to quicken, his hips to start thrusting. He moaned as he came into a tissue.

Anyway, this story takes place a few weeks later. In It was the weekend, and Jay's dad was out of town. He had gotten up later in the day, walked down the stairs and towards the kitchen. As he walked through the spacious living room, he passed the open patio doors that led out to the pool. He cast a glance out and stopped dead. There Taylor was, climbing out of the pool, yellow bikini clinging wetly to her amazing body. She was raking her hair from her face, plump lips parted as she breathed heavily. She walked over to a poolside table and took a deep swig from a sports drink. She caught my eye and smirked knowingly, giving me a little finger wave before turning back to the pool with an extra strut to her step.

Jay hurried to the kitchen, grabbed a water bottle, and to the TV. The couch was positioned so that it was facing away from the back yard, towards the opposite wall where the huge TV was hung. He sat in the comfortable cushions and flipped through the channels. Half was his concentration, however, remained on the door behind him. He waited with bated breath to hear the soft padding of footsteps. Could she...like him? She sure seemed to be flirting. At least what he gathered to be flirting from media and his friends' stories. Could it really be possible that his beautiful stepmother wanted him?

'Only one way to find out,' he thought.

When they finally did, Jay couldn't make himself turn around. He just stared straight forward at the screen like he was in a hostage video, holding his breath. He was hyperaware of the sound of his stepmother's footsteps, bare on the hardwood. She strode into the room, slowed to a stop behind him.

"Interesting show?" she asked, her voice filled with mischief.

Jay laughed, trying to sound confident, but it ended up sounding like a dog's squeaky toy with all the air squeezed out of it. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Not really. Just...looking for something to do," he said, then let the statement hang in the air.

"What, something with me?" she asked, her voice low.

Jay spun around. Taylor was standing just behind the couch, and as soon as he was facing her, she burst out laughing.

"Oh, sweetie," she said, "You didn't think I was serious, did you?" Jay didn't answer, just turned away, his face turning red. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Jay. But... you know... I'm your stepmother. It would be inappropriate. And what if your dad found out? Not to mention...." She paused, then laughed and said, "Oh, never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing," she said, barely containing a smile. "Really, Jay, I shouldn't have brought it up."

"What??" Jay repeated, more insistent.

She sighed, seemingly making up her mind.

"I didn't want to say it, but I'm out of your league."

Jay deflated behind the couch.

"I'm sorry," Taylor said, and she sounded genuine. "Don't get me wrong, Jay, you're a sweet kid. You're gonna make some girl very happy someday. But, well, women like me, we need something...more, you know?"

"I guess."

The rest of the day passed without incident. Jay spent most of it moping around in his room. He ate up there, too. Dad didn't normally let him, so Taylor had said, since he was out of town, Jay could so long as he brought the plates, silverware and cups back down and promised not to make a mess.

That night, Jay dreamed of Taylor. This wasn't the first time he'd had a wet dream, but this one was intense. In his dream, Taylor entered his room wearing lacy black lingerie. Her lips were painted in ruby red lipstick.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier, baby," she said, her voice low and husky, like an old Hollywood starlet. "Is there ANYTHING I can do to make it up to you?" she asked, smiling coyly as her hands ghosted over his boxers. She climbed into his bed, straddled his waist.

"There's my big boy," she moaned, gyrating against his cock. He could practically feel her heat through her panties. She cupped his face, leaned down and kissed him. In his mind, the kiss was anything but the awkward, stilted kiss he'd shared with Gwen Adams. Taylor took charge, confidently coaxing his mouth open with hers, sending her tongue into his mouth like a probe.

It was all too much. As Jay came, he woke himself up, like being suddenly plunged into freezing cold water.

"No!" he said as he realized it was a dream. "No, no, no!"

He flopped back down onto the bed, trying to fall back asleep, maybe catch more of the dream, but it was no use. His mind was racing at a million miles an hour, plus he now had an uncomfortable wet, sticky spot on his boxers. He quickly cleaned up and changed, then lay back down. Sleep eventually returned, but his stepmother wasn't there to greet him.

The next morning (Or rather afternoon; Jay WAS a college student, after all,) arrived with the golden sun shining in through his window. He headed downstairs, fixing himself a bowl of cereal mostly on autopilot. Once he was full of his daily serving of sugar and a little more awake, he realized he hadn't seen Taylor yet. Curiosity piqued, he began snooping around. Her car was still in the garage. No sign of her upstairs in the master bedroom or her office. She wasn't out back.

He headed out the front door, hearing the telltale sounds of a game being played in the tennis court. He headed over and, sure enough, there was Taylor. She was in a bright green tank top and tiny black shorts, her hair up in a ponytail. And opposite her was a tall, well-muscled black man. His muscles rippled as he tossed the ball upward, then smacked it with a grunt. Taylor returned it with a grunt of her own. Jay wasn't sure how long he stood there watching. He'd never really appreciated how athletic his stepmother was. She kept up with the guy easily, returning every ball, and never even looking particularly winded even though it looked like they were playing at Wimbledon.

Finally, Taylor smacked the ball past the black man, and he momentarily sagged with a sigh. He fit his racket in his armpit and walked up to the net, hand held out.

"Good game, Mrs. Townsend," he said, giving her a thousand-watt smile.

"You taught me well, Coach," Taylor replied.

"You were a good student," Coach replied, his tone more than friendly. He openly gazed at Jay's stepmother's body, and she his. She leaned forward to whisper something in his ear, and his smile broadened. He said something back, then they broke apart. Coach out a side door and Taylor...straight towards Jay!

He didn't even have time to pretend he hadn't seen; as soon as she turned her attention towards the gate, her eyes locked to his. She smiled broadly, waving.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" she called.

"Uh, hi," he replied. Now that she was getting closer, he found it hard not to look. Sweat sheened on her collarbone, the top of her breasts. She was breathing heavily, her breasts straining against the tank top with every inhale. Her face was flushed, and it brought to mind... other things.

"So how are you?" She asked as she passed him, nonchalant as she could be.

"Fine," he said, forcing himself not to look at her ass jiggling in her shorts. "Who was that?"

"Mark. He's my tennis coach." She said it so casually, like she was talking about one of the neighbors, or one of Jay's old teachers. Not the man she'd just eye fucked.

"Is he... good?"

"Very," she said, not a hint of innuendo in her tone. "Why, you looking to learn?"

"No," he said, waving the question away impatiently. "Taylor, you and Mark...were you guys... I mean, I saw...."

Taylor stopped, hand on the doorknob, just for a moment, then continued inside. Once he was inside behind her, she turned.

"Jay, your father and I have an arrangement. He knows I have a voracious sexual appetite. One he obviously can't fulfill when he's not here as he so often is. So, I'm allowed to sleep with other people so long as I don't keep any a secret from him, and so long as I take... proper precautions."

Jay's head was spinning. Just yesterday, Taylor had set a boundary with him, and now here they were, openly discussing her sex life while she was wearing sexy athletic wear and shining with sweat. He couldn't help it; the question just popped out of his mind.

"So where does that leave us?"

She chuckled.

"Jay, we've already talked about this."

"I know, but...."

"Why not find a girl your own age?"

Now it was Jay's turn to chuckle.

"With you here? How could I so much as look at another girl, with...THIS in my house?" he said, gesturing to her.

Taylor chuckled again and turned to head upstairs.

"Believe me, kid. Someday, you'll thank me for this."