Luckiest Guy I Know Ch. 02

Sandy mouthed the words, "You are a bad boy," then suppressed a laugh when Dad said, "Of course son, whatever it takes."

"And how about Sandy, can she do whatever she wants, whatever it takes to make her happy."

Dad, now slightly annoyed – he was too important for such frivolity – said, "Yes son, Sandy can do whatever she wants. Now if there is nothing else, I'm busy."

* * * * *

At home I put on Miles Davis' Kind of Blue. I'd found it on-line described as the sexiest jazz record ever made and as I held Sandy close, as we danced, I agreed with the critic who said Davis' horn sounded like it was in heat. When it ended she excused herself, said she had to go to the bathroom, check messages. I watched her swaying ass as she left, saw an extra-roll there.

In her office Sandy thought about the evening, the food, the music, the dancing, read, then re-read the e-mail. It was forbidden, illicit, wrong, its very naughtiness stirring the pot boiling between her legs. She touched a breast, inhaled, wondered, who sent it, how did he understood her life and frustrations, how, when, would he set her free?

I knocked on the door. She dimmed the screen on the computer, said, "Come in," turned to face me. I saw arousal written on her face: eyes smoky, skin flushed, breathing deep and long.

"I wanted to thank you Sandy, tonight was wonderful."

She wet her lips, pushed her hair behind her ear, stepped towards me, and, hand on my shoulder, said, "I should thank you, I can't recall a better time."

I said, "I'm glad you enjoyed," bent down, kissed her mouth, felt her lips move on mine, then ended the kiss and said, "I hope you've enjoyed the e-mail."

She said, "You, you sent the e-mail?"

I said, "Viki and I sent it. She thinks you need some attention, believes I'm the one to give it to you. At first I thought she was crazy, but after these last few days, well I shouldn't have doubted."

She continued to look at me, but her mind turned inward. I didn't know it of course, but she'd returned to the afternoon of my graduation when, while Dad and I were at the high school, she and Viki went back to the hotel. Sex had never been so good, so uninhibited. She imagined Viki and I, happy bodies sweaty and intertwined, sucking in air after a long lazy afternoon fuck. If I kept Viki happy...

She turned to the computer, opened the e-mail, re-read it. Epiphany on her face, she realized that only Viki could have written it, that only Viki had this kind of insight into her. She should have seen it immediately.

She turned back to me and said, "Gabriel, you know I have a lot more to lose than you."

It wasn't really a question, she wanted reassurance. Staring into her clear blue eyes I said, "No one will know. I won't tell and no one will question my presence here. As to Dad, his ego is too bloated to entertain the notion of you and I and his imagination too limited to envision a desire, a need so strong that one would break all the rules for it. And, in any case, we have his permission, he said no limits."

As she smiled at the memory of the phone call, I took her in my arms. We danced a few slow steps and recalling the e-mail I said, "Tonight was uninhibited, fun, sexy. On the dance floor I felt your energy, you were vivacious, dynamic, eager, celebrating the food, the music."

She pressed her body to mine, my erection on her hip. I ran a hand down her torso and said, "I imagine you in a dress that shows off your delicate curves, killer legs. My hands caress you and you feel me, hard and needy, against you," then turned so we faced the computer and tapped enter.

The e-mail appeared. I said, "Read it to me."

Paraphrasing, using the first person,, her tone soft and intimate, Sandy said, "We both know it's forbidden, but how long since I've embraced the forbidden? How long since I've celebrated the unalloyed joy my body can bring me?"

She turned to face me, stretched her body into mine, moved her mouth to my ear and in a sultry whisper said, "My nipples are hard, begging to be touched, my sex is wet and itchy. I imagine you sliding your fingers inside me."

I moved my hand down her body, between her legs, thrummed her clit with my thumb, pushed a finger into her hot wet depths. Sandy closed her eyes, rocked her hips on my hand, and breathed more than said, "So good, so good, forgive me god, forgive me, I need this," pulled down my zipper, reached inside, and said, "I imagine your cock spearing inside me, taking possession of my body, my soul."

Recalling the e-mail – I was supposed to fuck her on her desk – I pried off my shoes, kicked off my pants, pulled her panties down, leaned her over the desk, and said, "Let's break some rules."

We did.

* * * * *

We woke up in her (and my father's) bed, made love, put on robes, went downstairs, were fixing coffee when her phone rang. She looked at the screen, giggled, "It's your father. Should I answer?"

Standing behind her I wrapped my arms around her waist, kissed her neck, and said, "Absolutely."

"Hello dear."

I nibbled on an ear lobe.

"Really, delayed again, that's a shame. That will only give you parts of two days with him."

More listening, a shudder when I nipped her shoulder.

"No, no problem. We're getting along fine. We'll find something to do. And if it gets hard, we'll find a way to soften it up."

I undid the belt of her robe.

"Oh, you want to speak to him, he's right here."

She shrugged off her robe, turned, handed me the phone.

"Hey Dad."

"I'm sorry son, we're having trouble getting this deal done. I should get back the day before your leave, I'll take you to dinner at the Versailles House, you'll love it. You and Sandy doing okay?"

Sandy's lips were on mine, her tongue inside my mouth.

"Son are you there?"

She ended our kiss with a smirk and I said, "Yeah, I'm here. It sounds like you have a lot on your plate. As to Sandy and I, we're getting along like a Twinkie and cream,"

While Dad, confused by my reference, paused, Sandy opened my robe, kissed my neck, my nipples, knelt and, holding my dick in front of her face, licked its length.

Dad said, "Can you put Sandy back on?"

I looked down. She shook her head no, took my dick in her mouth.

"You'll need to give her a second Dad, she's swallowing a breakfast burrito."

Dad started talking, something about..., I have no fucking clue. Then he stopped. I was supposed to say something.

"Sure Dad."

He was quiet, that wasn't the right answer.

Sandy, seeing my predicament, pulled off my dick, took the phone from me, put it on speaker, and said, "Yes honey, what's up?"

"I kept forgetting to tell you, the firm's having a charity auction. I could give a shit, but it'll look bad if I don't donate something and there's bunch of crap in the house I don't use anymore. I scribbled it down while last night's speaker droned. It's illegible, so I'll have to read it to you."

Sandy pushed the robe off my shoulders and said, "That sound's fine dear, but first I've got to stir something, taste test it, then get pen and paper. Here, talk to your son."

She handed me the phone, knelt, took my cock in her mouth, rotated her head on it, licked it, gave me a thumb's up – I'd passed the taste test – and headed for her office.

Dad said, "It sounds like you two are doing okay."

Looking at my dick, hard and throbbing, I said, "I guess I'm growing on her."

He paused, trying to conjure up small talk, then said, "I can't recall Sandy cooking burritos for breakfast. Are they good?"

"Yeah, excellent, and Sandy can't seem to get enough. She keeps eating mine, but I'm happy to share."

"That's good of you. Would you help her pack the stuff for the sale, some of it's large and bulky."

I said, "I'll make sure to put everything, especially the big bulky stuff, exactly where it's supposed to go. If we have any trouble, I'll push hard, make sure it fits," while Sandy, returning with pen and paper, suppressed a laugh and motioned for me to sit. I did and she stretched and rotated her jaw, knelt, lowered her mouth over my dick, moved down until my cock reached her throat, and then, trying to make this big bulky thing fit, pushed.

There was a moment's resistance, then I suddenly jabbed into her throat. Sandy gagged and coughed, pulled her head off my dick.

Dad said, "Was that Sandy, is she okay?"

She signaled for the phone. I handed it to her and she said, "I'm fine dear, a big hunk of burrito went down the windpipe. Don't worry, I'm gonna practice eating it some more."

Dad was quiet, just a beat, trying to make sense of his wife's comment, then said, "You do that dear, practice makes perfect. Ready for the list?"

"Yes honey, but I'm going to put you on speaker, that way Gabriel and I can both write it down. In case there's any confusion, we'll compare notes."

Dad said, "Good idea," Sandy handed me the phone, I laid it on the table and, after activating the record function, did the same with mine. Sandy, hands on my hips, took me in her mouth and Dad started rattling away. I said, "A little slower Dad, I want to make sure Sandy gets it all down."

As Dad slowed down, Sandy sped up, bobbing her head on my cock, flicking her tongue on the shaft. When she moaned I'd say, "Hmmmm," to cover up the noise, but the more Sandy sucked the louder she got until Dad finally said, "What was that?"

Looking up, Sandy shrugged her shoulders and I said, "That was Sandy, she's got a mouth full of burrito, she loves it, go ahead with your list, Sandy's ready to go full bore."

That she was. Taking several breaths through her nose, Sandy checked the alignment of her head, built up a mouthful of slick thick salvia, applied gradual pressure, and my cock-head slid into her throat. I stroked the back of her neck and Sandy, after taking a second to adjust to having a cock in her throat, hummed and swallowed, giving birth to an unworldly combination of vibration and suction. Her tongue grew more active, tasted and licked. Soon she was bobbing her head, my dick sliding in and out of her throat.

Dad, continuing with his list, said, "You getting this all down?"

I said, "Yes, Sandy's getting it all down," and hit the mute button on the phone.

* * * * *

As she deep-throated her step-son Sandy knew the impossible was real. She'd glimpsed this possibility during her afternoon with Viki, but then the good-little-girl straight-jacket had only been laid aside, now it was in the incinerator. She would give her husband what he cared about, the appearance of conventional domesticity and, when he deigned to be home, the creature comforts he thought his due. In public she would be the adoring young wife, a symbol of his success. That was, after all, what he wanted from their marriage. At the same time she'd reclaim her soul - something her husband had no interest in anyway. During that afternoon with Viki she'd stuck her head through the window, saw what the world offered. Now she'd crawled out the window and was standing in the sun. She'd never go back in.

* * * * *

Sandy picked up the pace. Her cheeks fluttered, her tongue slathered and slithered, her throat, soft and tight at the same time, vibrated on my dick. I entwined my fingers in her hair, thrust my dick into her face, felt the pressure build and build until my balls burst loose and shouting, "Oh fuck I'm coming," sprayed load after load of hot sticky cum directly into her stomach.

Sandy stood, ran her tongue on her slightly swollen lips, picked up the phone, undid the mute function, and said, "Yes dear, we're fine, we were just comparing lists."

Dad said, "Are you sure you got everything down?"

Sandy, frigging my rapidly re-hardening dick, straddled me, dragged my dick across the face of her sex, and, as my cock split her pussy lips and slipped inside her, said, "I'm getting it all dear, every inch, it's an impressive list."

Dad said, "Good, I'll look like I care. Why don't you read the list back so I can make sure it's right,"

Sandy brought my head to her breast, arched her back, pressed it to my face. I sucked most it into my mouth, rolled the nipple between my lips, and Sandy said, "Honey, I just started feeding Gabriel some ripe melon, y'know how guys like a sweet firm melon, and want to keep working on the breakfast burrito. It's amazing how well it performs, even after all this time, after dripping so much juice, it's still hot and firm. Let me finish with it before it gets soft. Then Gabriel and I will check our notes and e-mail it to you so you can double-check it."

Dad said, "Fine, now turn off the speaker, this is private."

Sandy, grinding her body into mine, said, "I turned if off dear," and wrapped her arms around my neck, holding the phone so we could both hear Dad say, "Thanks for taking such good care of Gabriel, keep up the good work."

"Don't worry, he'll get my full attention, he'll feel so welcome he'll come over and over."

* * * * *

We were at Versailles House. The reviews were right-on: the service was obsequious, the decor overwrought, the food mediocre. Dad was bragging about how brilliant he was, how he'd taken the other guy, while I tried to say, "Hmmmm..." at appropriate intervals. It's hard to concentrate when your step-mother is fondling your dick under the table.

Dad ordered dessert, something gooey. Sandy's hand, drops of pre-cum on her fingers, came out of my pants. She spread them on her fork, speared a bit of dessert, took a bite, smiled, and said, "It's better than usual dear, this sauce is stronger and sweeter."

* * * * *

At the house Dad, words slurred, said, "Not sure should have 'nother."

Handing him a glass of champagne Sandy said, "Nonsense, a toast to the conquering hero, another deal done." Dad downed his bubbly while Sandy and I pressed full glasses to closed lips, tilted our heads back, put full glasses back down.

Later, while my father snored away, his wife joined me in the guest bedroom.

* * * * *

Sandy was making coffee. I was standing behind her, arms around her waist, kissing her neck. The upstairs toilet flushed. Sandy turned in my arms and said, "He's up, time to bring him his coffee." I followed, watching her ass until Sandy handed Dad a mug, sat on the edge of the bed, and said, "I made it just the way you like it dear and since this will be a multi-cup morning, Gabriel brought you a thermos and all the fixings."

"Thanks. Champagne got to me last night."

"After your big success you deserved it dear."

"I guess I should apologize for not being around."

I said, "Hey Dad, you're a busy man and it gave Sandy and I the chance to get to know each other, to forge a new relationship."

Sandy said, "Yes dear, we got along real well, we're talking about getting together during your next business trip. It would also be a chance to see Viki, she and I have stayed in touch since graduation."

Dad, smiling at the memory of Viki (what man wouldn't) and pleased that someone else would perform his parental duties, said, "That'd be great."

"Gabriel and I loaded the truck with the boxes for the charity auction. His flight is not til 2:00, we don't need to leave til noon, so take your time. I'll drop you and the boxes at the office, drop Gabriel at the airport, grab a cup of coffee with some friends, and pick you up after work."

Dad, eyes bloodshot, nodded yes and Sandy said, "Good, I'm going to take a shower."

* * * * *

Standing behind my stepmother I pushed the gown off her shoulder, brought my thumb to her mouth, watched her lick it in the bathroom mirror, stroked her exposed nipple. A shudder ran through her compact body; she bit back a moan. I moved my hands to her shoulders, rubbed.

"Is this the only room in the house where we haven't done it?"

Smiling at the memory of our incessant coupling of the last few days she said, "It depends on whether you count the utility closet."

I said, "Well, next visit," pushed the gown off the other shoulder, let it fall to the floor, covered her small round firm breasts with my hands, pressed my hard cock to her butt. Sandy squeezed her thighs together as I kissed her neck, tweaked her nipples, and, recalling Viki's e-mail, said, "You need to be fucked. Your hot pussy needs hard cock. Your husband won't do it, let me be the one."

She dropped her head to my shoulder, her blonde hair caressed my skin, and said, "Yes, oh god yes. Let's break some rules."

I kissed her neck, ran a finger down her labial slit, into her steamy depths. She thrust her sex into me, riding my hand with little gasps and whimpers. A finger of my other hand moved down the cleft of her ass, brushed the puckered asshole, slid inside, kept going until my fingers were separated only by the thin wall between her pussy and asshole.

I wiggled my fingers, Sandy growled, "Oh god yes, it feels good," and leaned into me, letting me support her weight. Our lips met, our tongues played, she turned her body into mine, placed her mouth on my shoulder to muffle her moans.

* * * * *

Sandy knew this was crazy, wrong, and so fucking hot; her step-son's fingers buried in her cunt and asshole, her husband, his father, a few feet away nursing the hangover she'd induced by pouring enough alcohol into him to fell a musk-ox, guaranteeing he'd slept through the night while she snuck down the hall and fucked his son silly.

She bit his shoulder, a hard short nip, and said, "I love this, I love it when you play with me, especially with him so close."

Already addicted to her step-son's body, Sandy knew this wouldn't be the last time. The role of a doting step-mother would be the guise that would allow her to return to his bed again and again. She thought of Viki, certain that free-spirit had somehow master-minded all of this. She certainly hoped so, for she longed to once again feel Viki's sweet body intertwined with her own. And then another thought: she'd never tried a threesome.

* * * * *

Dropping my head to her ear I whispered, "Before Dad you knew what sex was for, you knew men who knew what cock and cunt are for. You'll not deny yourself any longer."

"Oh no, no, never, never, never."

I rolled her clit against her body, finger fucked her, twisted my finger inside her rump. She rocked against me, pressed her face to my shoulder, moaned.

A synchronized one, her movements matched mine, thrusting pussy and backside into my hands, until, body jerking, she exploded. Pussy spasming, ass clenching, she tried burying her face on my arm, but the force of her orgasm was too powerful and her, "Uuuuuuuuhhhhhhh," bounced off the walls.

Voice bleary, Dad said, "Honey, are you okay?"

Sandy placed a finger across my lips, stuck her head out the door, and in a slightly addled voice said, "I'm fine dear, I dropped something while getting ready for my shower," then, closing the door to Dad's disinterested, "Okay," turned on the overhead fan and water, increasing the ambient noise, checked the water temperature, and led me into the shower where, the water pouring over our bodies, Sandy leaned on the shower's front wall, reached between her legs for my dick, and said. "Fuck me. I need cock."

Hands on her hips, I moved into her warm slippery cunt, felt it yield, mold itself to me, felt her shimmy her gorgeous ass on me, clench her satin warmth on me, and reached around, and rolled her clit on her pubic bone. Her body twitched, her stomach growled, her pussy spasmed, her groans, low and long, drowned out by the shower and fan. I entered her again, harder this time, and Sandy yipped, "Ooooooohhhhhh." We paused and, sans response from the bedroom, I pulled my cock out, nice and slow, then plunged back into her heat and wetness.

"You wanna be fucked?"

"Oh yes Gabriel, hard, real hard."

I pinched her clit, drove into her, did it again and again until we heard footsteps and Dad's weary voice outside the door, "Sandy, I'm going downstairs, see if I can keep some food down."