The next morning, I woke with a knot in my stomach, and the memory of last night’s kiss was still fresh. My dad was gone on a business trip, and I couldn’t escape my guilt. I pictured Mallika still on the couch, her blue eyes blazing with anger, ready to tear into me for crossing a line that should never have been touched. I stayed holed up in my room, too scared to face her, too ashamed to go to college. The thought of her waiting downstairs scared me from confronting my sin.
“Vihaan! Wake up, it’s 11,” Mallika’s voice came through the door.
“Uh, okay,” I mumbled, my throat dry.
“Come out,” she said, her tone calm, almost neutral. She didn’t sound angry at all. I took a deep breath and decided to face my demon, and I went out with determination to blame it all on the wine.
My stepmother stood in the kitchen, wearing her beige silk nightgown, the fabric clinging softly to her curves, her face unreadable. “Want some breakfast?” she asked, sliding a plate of toast and eggs across the counter.
“Yeah,” I said. The silence between us grew heavy as we ate. “Can I say something?” I finally said.
“Let’s say it together. On three,” she said, her expression blank, no hint of judgement. I didn’t understand her, but I nodded.
“Okay.”
“One, two, three,” she counted.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted.
“I liked it,” she said at the exact moment.
We froze; the words hung between us. My heart skipped. “What?”
“What?” she echoed, her lips twitching slightly.
“I… thought I heard you say you liked it,” I stammered, my pulse racing. She nodded, slow and deliberate. “Oh. This isn’t right,” I said, my voice shaking. “You’re my stepmom. We’re related. This is fucked up.”
She leaned forward, her hands gripping the counter, her voice sharp but low. “Fucked up? Don’t get me started, Vihaan. I knew you were there at my door last week. I saw your shadow. You stood there, jerking off while I was… inside. Why didn’t you leave? Huh?”
“I… that was different, it was an accident. Last night was not an accident,” I said.
“So it was the wine then, right?” she said, her tone mocking.
“Yes,” I said.
“Ha,” she scoffed. Then her voice softened, “We both wanted it. You’re like your dad, Vihaan. You both refuse to face what’s real and accept your reality.” Her words landed like an arrow. A truth I wasn’t ready to hear.
“But you’re my stepmom, and… you’re old.”
She looked down at her feet, “I’m only 15 years older than you. Married to a man 20 years my senior, who’s too stubborn to admit he’s failing me.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “We’re trying for a baby, and it’s breaking me. He’s breaking me.” She stood abruptly and walked toward her room. The door shut with a heavy thud.
***
Mallika leaned against the wall; her body couldn’t handle the weight of her confession. Tears streamed down her face, each one carrying the pain of her unspoken loneliness, the frustration of a marriage that felt like a cage, and the forbidden pull she felt toward Vihaan. A pull she couldn’t reconcile with the guilt growing inside her. She pressed her hands to her face, sobbed and slid to the floor.
***
I stared at the half-eaten breakfast on the table, the toast and eggs abandoned. My chest pained at the thought of her crying alone in her room. I could hear her soft sobs in my mind like haunting music. I didn’t want her to hurt; the urge to comfort her consumed me.
Before I knew it, I was at her bedroom door, my hand on the knob, heart pounding with a mix of guilt and need. I turned it slowly and saw Mallika sitting on the floor, her face buried in her knees. I knelt beside her, gently lifting her chin, and her blue eyes met mine. Then I gave in, pressing my lips to hers, and she kissed me back.
Our mouths melted, her upper lip caught between mine as I deepened the kiss, and my tongue slipped into it. I held her face in both hands, her skin soft under my fingertips, while her hands gripped my shoulders. She tilted her head, and a soft moan escaped her throat. And then she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, her voluptuous body clinging to mine like she was anchoring herself to me. We were sloppy and unapologetic; we kissed until we both were satisfied. I gazed into her eyes, still wet with tears, and gently kissed each eyelid. “You’re so pretty,” I whispered,
She kissed me again, softer this time. I helped her to her feet; she was 5’8’’, though I towered over her at six feet. However, I had an average physique.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Whatever you want,” she murmured.
“You’re old,” I teased, pitching my voice to sound cute. She laughed, a genuine sound, and playfully slapped my chest.
“What do you want? I’m not your ideal girlfriend material,” she said.
I stepped closer, my tone dropping to a whisper. “If you can’t be my girlfriend, can you be my mommy, Mommy?” The words were bold and reckless, surprising even me.
She laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What if I want to be your girlfriend, huh?”
I paused, pretending to consider it. “You’d have to meet some criteria.”
“But, that’s for later,” she said, her voice turning sultry. “Right now, I need my baby.”
Before I could respond, she pushed me against the wall by the door, her hands pinning my wrists above my head. She kissed me hard, her lips devouring mine, our tongues met in between and made a sloppy dance. It felt like she was consuming me. Our saliva mingled; the kiss was so raw and lecherous that it looked like eating a person’s face.
She pulled back, her voice a seductive whisper. “You were jerking off at the door last time, weren’t you, baby?”
“Yes, mommy,” I moaned, the memory flooding back, my cock already straining against my jeans.
“Why don’t you finish what you started today, hmm?” Her words dripped with a kinky saliva. We stumbled to the door, our lips still locked, while she unbuttoned my pants. They hit the floor with a soft thud, and she forced my underwear down, freeing my throbbing cock.
“Stroke it, baby,” she whispered, her lips brushing mine as I wrapped my hand around my cock, stroking slowly. She watched, her eyes were lusting with hunger, and then she saw my cock “What the fuck,” she exclaimed.
“What?”
“How big is it?” she asked, her voice a mix of shock and admiration. However, her eyes were fixed on my cock.
“Nine inches, I guess,” I said.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, a wicked smile spread across her face. “I’ve never seen a cock this big.”
“Kiss me, Mommy, please,” I begged.
She leaned in, her lips sucking mine, her tongue teasing as she said, “You have a beautiful cock, baby.”
Her words filled me with passion.
“Come on, baby, stroke it for me. Faster. Faster,” she urged, her voice was a sultry command that made my hips move. “You can’t cum alone, baby,” she said, her eyes locked on mine. “Do you want Mommy’s help?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, mommy.”
“Good boy.” Her delicate hand wrapped around my cock, her touch was like a spark igniting a fire. Her fingers were soft yet firm, and she moved them in a slow, rhythmic glide, teasing every inch of my cock.
She brushed her thumb to the tip of my cock with every stroke.
“Ah,” I moaned.
My body trembled as she worked on me like a pornstar, her breasts pressed close to me, and I could feel her hardened nipples through the fabric. And then she did something I hadn’t expected: she pursed her lips, letting a slow stream of spit drip onto her palm, her eyes locked onto mine with a wicked smile. She smeared the slick spit over my cock, moving her fingers effortlessly, coating me like a lube, and then started stroking my cock, up and down.
“Baby, close your eyes,” she murmured; her voice was slutty, enough to arouse anyone. “Focus on Mommy’s voice.”
I obeyed.
“I’m gonna stroke every single drop of cum out of those balls,” she whispered, her tone dripping with lust.
“Yes, please,” I groaned. I was desperate now. Her free hand slid to the back of my neck, and she pushed my head closer, her lips touching mine. Her tongue forced into my mouth, hot and sexy, she swirled it against mine in a sloppy, hungry tongue dance. Her other hand kept pumping my cock in a sexy motion. Her fingers glided every inch and rubbed the tip of my cock, just enough to make my hips squeeze.
“Yes, baby, give me that cum,” she murmured against my lips, teasing. “I want you to cum for me at three, okay?”
I nodded. I needed to cum, I wanted to cum.
“One…” she counted, her hand sped up, the wet sound of her strokes increased. “Two…” She increased the speed. Her grip tightened, and she leaned in, her lips brushing my earlobe before she bit down gently. “Hold it in, baby,” she whispered, her voice a seductive order that pushed me to the edge. “Now, three. Cum, baby. Cum for Mommy. Cum.” Her words were a trigger, and I unleashed the pressure that had been building in me.
“Aahh!” I cried out, my voice echoing through the room as my cock shook violently in her hand. I spurted thick ropes of cum, splashing on the door in white streaks. Some fell on her nightgown, some spilled onto the floor, and some remained on her hand. My legs trembled from the intensity, and I slid down on the floor, exhausted by the most erotic act of my life.
Mallika knelt beside me and leaned in, her lips brushing mine in a slow, sensual smooch.
“That was amazing,” I whispered.
To be continued...
