She was in the middle of an urgent orgasm when the doorbell buzzed her phone.

Joanna groaned at the bad timing. A delivery person, she decided.

She rolled over on her belly, arm underneath her, hand between her legs, fingers hard at work. Her naked body flapped against the quietly creaking bed. Papers that were on the bed fell to the floor. Anxious to get this done, her moaning and sighing mutated into panting and whimpering.

Physically, she was in her upstairs bedroom.

Mentally, she was back downstairs in her kitchen with someone. That someone had her on the floor, her legs in the air, his strong body firmly on top of her weakened one, his strong cock inside her, pummeling her, punishing her, wiping the floor with her.

And he was wearing a cowboy hat!

She laughed a little as she continued rolling about the bed fingering herself.

Yes, this cattle-rustling outlaw had lassoed her in the living room, pulled her into the kitchen, laid her naked beauty out on the tiled floor, and showed her who was boss.

Her whimpering got louder. She was seeing double, her mind was blanking, and her body was shaking.

“Yes,” she was trying to say over and over.

But the doorbell, Joanna.

It rang twice more and buzzed her phone again.

“No,” she panted, trying to ignore it.

And the person knocked as well.

She collapsed in angry defeat and growled through clenched teeth.

That better not be Sean, she said, thinking of her husband from whom she had separated.

She rolled over onto her back and sat up, landing her feet back on reality. She grabbed the phone to see who had dared disturb such a good orgasm.

Kit.

She yelped and dropped the phone.

Her stepson was here, downstairs, outside her door, on his own.

Pretend you’re not here, she considered as she looked around the room frantically. No, your car is out on the driveway, fuck!

She hurried to the nearby chair to look for some clothes.

This was bad. She had taken advantage of Kit last week, trying to seduce him to get back at her husband in a plot she now sees as infantile and selfish.

It was fun though.

But she now feared that her moves had unleashed a horny beast inside her normally well-mannered stepson.

She picked up the phone.

Kit peered at the camera. “Um, ma’am?” he said.

Ma’am? He’s got the nerve to still call me “ma’am” after what we did?

“Go away,” she said.

“Hey, I need to talk to you.”

“Not a good time. I’ve got meetings, showings, an open house later, sorry.”

“Just for a minute.”

“I’m making dinner, too. And cleaning.”

He just waited.

She was surprised at his insistence. Out of lame excuses, she sighed and said, “Hold on.”

She threw on a casual tank maxi dress. No bra, but no tempting cleavage either.

After their last encounter, he had called her a few times. She ignored all the calls. When the calls stopped, she was strangely bothered by that, too. Perhaps there were things she wanted to say to him as well. An affair with him would get too confusing, she concluded.

Resolved, she headed to the door, holding her dress together so that the high slit wouldn’t reveal any legs.

When she opened the door, her eyes zeroed in on his lips, his chest under the black T-shirt, his arms, his waist, his arms, his lips again.

“What do you want, Kit?”

After glancing at her bare feet, her hips under the maxi, her chest, and her hair, he couldn’t even look into her eyes. He gulped and tried to speak.

“I wanted to, um, apologize—”

“Oh, come on, Kit.”

“—for my behavior last week. I tried calling you. I didn’t want to leave a text like that. I just wanted to be respectful, tell you in person.”

“Kit, kiddo, we both behaved inappropriately, especially me.”

“Well, yeah, definitely you.”

“Yeah, so…” She stopped. “Wait, what?”

“You were definitely in the wrong.” His eyes were leveled at hers.

Her mouth dropped open. She wasn’t used to him speaking to her like that. “Okay?”

“Still,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have allowed it. I’m the man.”

She let out a laugh. “Excuse me? The man?”

He nodded earnestly. “Yes. And the man should be strong and resolute and, and, chivalrous and good even in the face of…temptation.”

She laughed again. “What is this, the Middle Ages? Where do you get this stuff? Certainly not from your dickhead dad.”

He shrugged, but his eyes looked sincere. “I’m not like dad,” he said. With that, he turned to leave.

She was amused by him. And still curious. She opened the door wider. “Hey. Sir Kit. Come inside so you can formally apologize to the damsel.”

He scratched his head and hesitated. She waited. He entered the house. Inside, he stood up straight, hands behind him.

She shook her head at his rigidness. “Relax, good sir. Sit.”

She pushed him towards the sofa. She sat next to him with a leg tucked under her. She sighed.

“Look, Kit,” she began. “I’m the one who should apologize. And not just for this.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I did was silly and stupid and, yes, it was mostly to get back at your dad and...” She tapped his thigh for the difficult part. “But the way I’ve treated you over the years…” She couldn’t finish.

He stared down at her hand. She noticed his chest heave. She stroked the thigh. He shifted uneasily. She wanted to laugh. She stared at him, grinning, imagining all the things she’d probably never do with a good boy like him. Her fingers danced over his outer thigh. Then his inner. He didn’t move. She patted his thigh in a more friendly way.

“Anyway…” she said, sighing.

But then he picked up her hand.

She turned to face him, surprised.

His fingers played with hers.

“Kit?”

She brought that hand closer to his face.

He kissed it.

She chuckled. “Am I the damsel again?”

But he was focused on her hand. He turned it around and kissed her palm.

“Um. Kit…?”

He kissed the back of her wrist.

That made her shift a little.

He continued kissing up her arm. He ran the back of his hand over her arm. His eyes were on her neck and the side of her face. She leaned towards him. He moved closer to her.  

“What about Rachel?” she said. “Remember her?”

He kissed her bare shoulder.

She looked over at him, their faces close.

“I broke up with her,” he said.

“What? No. Not because of what I said…”

He shook his head. His lips hung around her cheek for a second before kissing. His hand was getting bold as well, sliding over her lap, feeling the soft, stretchy fabric of her dress.

“Kit, tell me you didn’t break up with her because of me.”

He couldn’t talk. His lips were on her earlobes. His hand found the slit of her dress.

She was starting to breathe harder. “Kit?”

“Not because of what you said,” he said finally.

She sighed in relief as his lips ran down her neck.

“Because of what you did,” he added.

She gasped when his hand made her realize she had no underwear. She grabbed his wrist. She stared at him with shock.

“Dad’s not here,” he said.

She searched his face. “So what?”

“You’re not seducing me to get to him right now.”

She was confused. “So? So what?”

“You want me anyway,” he said with a happy smile.

She shook her head.

He nodded. He touched her chin and turned her lips to his. “You want me anyway,’ he said again.

Before she could answer, his tongue was in her mouth. She had already turned her body to face him. Now she was tipping over, sliding towards the armrest as he leaned over her, kissing, caressing, fondling the contours of her voluptuous body over the dress.

He opened the slit of her dress just enough to kiss her thigh and her knee. He slid down to the floor to hold her foot and kiss it. She looked down at him, the good boy kissing the queen’s foot. She gasped a little when she felt his wet tongue on it. She closed her eyes while he licked, kissed, and nibbled his way back to her thighs.

She inhaled, ready for him to discover her naked under the dress.

Instead, those big hands of his reached for the breasts that had so excited him last time. Bare or covered, they were his right now the way he grabbed at them. The way he was sighing showed her how much he had wanted to get his hands on her again.

“Joanna,” he muttered.

Her eyes opened. What did he say?

Sure enough, he said her name again.

No “ma’am” finally! She had always felt guilty about the time a decade ago when she forbade him to use “mom.”

She grabbed his face and brought it to hers. They kissed again while he continued groping at her breasts.

“Kit,” she said while her nipples were being touched and flicked. “We shouldn’t, Kit…”

But he was gathering up the fabric of her dress.

“Kit…”

He was pulling it up.

“Don’t rip it…”

She heard a tear.

“Kit!”

He wasn’t stopping. He yanked the dress over her body, over her head, and threw it aside. He stood over her, looking over her stepmother’s body.

That horny beast was out again, she realized. She opened her legs. He noticed. And his hand went straight for it.

She threw her head back and cried out as he pleasured her. When he pulled his soaked fingers out of her, she was annoyed. But she saw what he was doing. He was grabbing her ankles and spreading her legs wider so he could nestle his face between her legs.

She grabbed his hair.

It’s been too damn long, she realized.

Her arms were flailing about. He held them down. Her body was squirming around. But his tongue and lips were locked onto her. When the pleasure was too much, she tried to crawl away, but he yanked her back into place. She slapped at the top of his head. When he finally released her, she sat up and threw her arms around him.

“Cock,” she said desperately. “I want cock. Cock.”

He looked shocked to hear it.

She didn’t have time for that. She tore at his pants still repeating, “Cock.”

He hurried to undress. She worked on getting his pants off while he worked on pulling his shirt off.

Once he was naked, she embraced him again, her head on his chest, her hands on his back and butt cheeks.

Then she sat back to look at it.

She exhaled loudly.

Cock.

She sighed again when she touched it.

But he was moving back.

Annoyed, she moved forward.

He stepped back again.

To reach him, she had to leave the sofa. She was now on her knees. He put a hand atop her head. She was staring at the cock until she felt a yank.

She grunted a little. He had a fistful of her hair. She was a little confused. He stepped forward and brought his cock to her lips. She opened her mouth. He wasn’t going in. She whimpered a little with impatience. Her tongue emerged, anxious to taste the cock.

Come on, she thought. It was getting embarrassing, kneeling there with her mouth open, panting like a dog.

When she let out an impatient cry, he finally pushed his cock to her face and let go of her hair.

A horny beast took over her.

She didn’t just kiss and lick. She wanted to devour this cock of his. She growled as she sucked. She gasped for air and came back for more. She licked up the shaft over and over before taking it all into her mouth again. She was grabbing his legs, his back, his butt, his scrotum. She got up on her knees and deep-throated the cock as deep as her throat could take it. When she pulled out, a splash of saliva spilled onto the rug and her breasts.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, shocked at her own behavior.

She was writhing on the floor with her hands between her legs.

“Come inside me,” she begged.

He shook his head quickly.

“Please,” she said, rubbing herself with one hand, holding her neck with the other.

He looked away.

“Kit?” she said, grabbing her own breasts and inching towards him.

He was walking away!

She grabbed his leg. “What the fuck, fuck me, you fucking asshole…”

 He spun around angrily. She flinched. He pushed her back towards the sofa. He placed one foot on the seat. He pushed the cock against her face. She moaned and tried to wrench her face away, but he was insistent. She relented and opened her mouth. He jammed his cock into her. This time he did all the work, fucking her face mercilessly until she gasped and coughed.

Not until she pounded him with his fists did he slow down.

When he pulled away brusquely, she collapsed against the sofa trying to catch her breath. When she looked up, he was trying to get dressed.

She wasn’t even sure if he had orgasmed.   

“I have to go,” he said flatly.

“Wait,” she said. “Wait, goddammit.”

He stood over her, putting his shirt on. She tried to lean her face on his thigh and grab at his cock to kiss it, but he pulled away and put his pants on.

She glared at him.

He wasn’t looking at her. “Um,” he mumbled. He looked everywhere but at her. He scratched his head. “Um, thank you, ma’am,” he said.

Now she was seething. She stood up. “What’s the matter?” When he said nothing, she blurted out, “Fucking bastard.”

He whipped around to face her. She put her hands on her hips. Then she noticed tears in his eyes.

“Kit…” she said, but he was storming off towards the door. “Kit, wait, I didn’t mean that.”

He was gone. And she couldn’t chase after him nude.

She closed the door and shook her head, confused. She went back to the sofa and dropped herself on it.

“Well, that wasn’t very gallant of him,” she said to herself as she stared at the ceiling.

There was obviously an emotional hang-up, she concluded. She covered her face, thinking it had to do with her treating him like a black sheep or a whipping boy all the time. It was never his fault that Sean had been a philanderer, she told herself chidingly.

She hoped to see Kit again, to settle this unresolved issue.

She would get her wish, and a whole lot more, a few days later.