Jonathan has been on my case since I married his father. He hates that I even breathe. I’m the other woman. Not that my husband had the hots for his ex, but the kids never care.

“Look, we have to coexist,” I said. “Can’t we find a way to get along?”
“You’re not my mother, just stay in your own lane.”
“My own lane. Speaking of, do you need help for your driver’s test? You’re what nineteen?”
He got frustrated and got up, throwing his plate in the sink hard. I sighed and called a friend for advice. All she said is, you’re not his mother, find a different approach. Mentor him.

So I went to his room. The door was cracked; he was at the computer. I was about to go in. When I noticed the familiar frantic movement of his right hand, he was jacking off. I looked away, but saw the screen. My heart stopped. He was on my Facebook page and jacking off to my bridal pictures. I froze in place. Getting wet instantly at the sight of his fat cock in his fist.

I didn’t want to disturb him, but I wanted to see. No one had ever jacked off to me before that I was aware and I was flattered. I squeezed my mound for a moment, and then slipped my hand down my sweats. Fingering my clit, mmm, shit, I was ready to climax already. But he stopped. I need him to keep going.

“Don’t stop,” I said softly. He almost came out of his skin, but didn’t say anything. What could he say? I knew his anger was bullshit now. “It’s ok, keep going. It’s better this way, isn’t it?”
His cock had deflated. I licked my lips and imagined taking him into my mouth. So wrong, but so hot. He needed encouragement. So I lowered my sweater, revealing my bra. His cock came back to life.
“Stroke it, please,” I said.
“You’re my stepmother,” he said.
“I’m just Sally right now and I need to see you stroke your cock,” I said. Reluctantly, he put his hand around his fat cock. “We don’t have to have that relationship. It’s up to us. I want you to like me, not fight anymore.”

He pumped that dick for me. As I pulled my bra down and rubbed my pussy. I was losing control. I didn’t dare step into his room or I would have fucked him. “Oh, baby, I’m going to come for you,” I said. My legs shook. I had to sit down. So I did the unthinkable. I laid on his bed and continued to masturbate. “I’m close. Are you? Come on me, I think you want to.”

Revealing my upper body completely, edging closer as he stood over me. Then his eyes closed, his cock jerked and his hot cum shot across my belly, tits and neck. I came that second.

He fell to his knees, nuzzling my crotch through my sweats, my pussy throbbing as I pulled my hand away. He nibbled at me a little as I petted his hair. I tasted a finger full of his salty cum. My head spinning. What had I done? What was going to happen next?

“I need to clean up baby. Feeling better,” I said. He nodded. I got up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

A day or two passed, I helped him study for the test. We talked about sex, his frustrations with his girlfriend. We talked and got close, developed a special relationship. Often he came in to talk to me while I was showering and usually ended up pleasing himself to me. Once I even got out and let him paint my tits and shoot into my mouth. I also posed for his best pictures. My husband was glad he had stopped fighting with me.

I taught him to sext his girlfriend to start warming her pussy up. He said I gave him confidence. Soon, they were making love and our special times ended. We never had sex, though it’s not off the table for me. I imagine one day; he comes into my bedroom, slips under the covers. His naked skin on mine as he puts that cock into me. One day. I’ll be waiting!