The Adventures of a Step-Mom Ch. 02

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Waiting for a flight to Mexico, Miranda has an adventure.
1.6k words
4.16
50.3k
7

Part 2 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/25/2022
Created 01/24/2008
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[Having enjoyed the aggressive attentions of her step-daughter's boyfriend, Miranda accompanies her husband and step-daughters to the airport for a flight to Mexico. There, she catches the eye of another, even more attentive, man.]

We arrived at the airport, checked our luggage, and went straight to the gate. We found a row of empty padded seats; my husband disappeared behind his newspaper while the girls went window shopping at the retail stores down the corridor. I sat and pretended to read a novel, the thrill of Jake still jangling on my nerves. Here I was, a married woman and respectable step-parent, 35 years old and to all appearances a modest, upstanding member of my community. So when I caught the handsome older man seated across from me staring at my breasts in their halter top, my slim waist and long bare legs, why did I shift my weight slightly, uncross my legs, and slowly open my thighs to offer him a glimpse of my pantied mound? Our eyes locked briefly, then his gaze returned to my pussy, a wolfish smile playing about his lips. I spread a little wider and enjoyed his attentions.

Why? I guess I have always enjoyed older men, enjoyed the pleasure they take from looking at my body. When I was quite young I had a long physical relationship with a man twice my age. He ran a day camp I had attended for years, and my last summer as a camper we found ourselves briefly alone in the basement of an old church assembling a box lunch for a field trip to the zoo. I didn't know much about sexual attraction then, only that he often looked at me when it wasn't exactly necessary, his eyes lingering on my developing breasts, my hard flat belly, and the rounded swell of my ass in my khaki shorts. I liked him looking at me, and made sure I was never out of his sight for long.

That morning we worked side my side, slathering peanut butter on white bread and stacking the finished sandwiches on a sheet of paper towel. First our hands touched, then our shoulders, then his big strong hands were on me, on my waist and hip and ass, gentle, probing, a slow progression that I could have stopped at any time, no harm, no foul

But I didn't stop him. His arm encircled me, his other hand closing over my hard young breast. I looked up into his eyes and he smiled: I was all his, and he knew it.

The next spring he hired me as a counselor, and I visited him at his home for training. I never did learn much about being a counselor, but over the next few months he taught me a great deal about how to be a woman. He taught me how to kiss, to nibble his lips, nuzzle his neck, and then open my mouth wide to accept his thick wet tongue. He taught me how to offer my breasts to his hands and mouth, how to stand so that he had free access to my hips and ass and thighs. I learned how to tease his penis to attention with my fingertips, how to take his cock in my small warm mouth and swirl my tongue on it until it was almost too swollen to suck. In return, he kissed and licked me, spreading me on his desk and pushing tongue and fingers deeper and deeper into my pussy, stretching me, making me a suitable receptacle. In time, he mounted me - slowly, gently, and showed me how to submit to the second most important physical surrender a woman can commit for her man.

All the while he was teaching me about my own body - its pleasure centers, its functions, and its appeal to men - and how his masculine strength completed it. Was he teaching me something new, or simply confirming something I already instinctively understood - that my body was for male pleasure and, if I learned to offer it with skill and passion, I was fulfilling my truest calling as a woman? Frankly, I didn't care. I belonged to him, and whether kneeling between his thighs to offer him my mouth, or bent over the arm of his sofa while he slowly, powerfully used every corner of my tight hot cunt, I felt a joy that was far more than merely physical. In those moments, he would whisper to me, telling me I was his best girl, his little slut, his dirty fuck toy - and I could hear in his voice a fierce pleasure and pride that, by themselves, were all the reward I'd ever need.

He made me his courtesan, and he fucked me silly.

Twenty years later, sitting in the bucket seats in the airport lounge, I beheld another older man who saw something attractive in me, and I offered him something in return as I had been taught to do. The bulge in the lap of his suit trousers told me that I was definitely appreciated.

After a few minutes, I stood up and made my way to the unisex restroom at the end of the corridor, a facility for families with a stall and a sink and a changing table. I suppose I knew he would follow me; as I walked through the door he crowded in behind me, pushing me into the room and clicking the lock on the door. I turned to face him and he pushed me up against the opposite wall where the changing table was folded and enveloped me in a rush.

"That was quite a show you put on out there," he rasped. His hands were on my shoulders, pinning them to the wall. "You are quite a tease."

"I guess so," I whispered, pushing my hips against him. His cock was very hard against my belly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

His hand ran up the back of my thigh, pushing my light linen skirt up over the swell of my ass to bunch around my waist. The wall behind me was cold against my ass cheeks. ""Oh, I did," he said. "Let me show you how much." He swooped in to kiss me, our mouths opening together, a loud slurp as I sucked his tongue into my waiting mouth.

In a second he had fumbled his trousers open with one hand while, reaching under and behind my ass, he snatched my thong to one side. I lifted one leg, my thigh rising over his hip and pressing against his side, my knee coming to rest under his armpit. There was no need to speak - the frenzy of lust had carried us off. With one smooth thrust of his hips he pushed his cock into my waiting pussy, levering up and up until my foot almost left the floor.

I let out a moan and rested my chin on his shoulder. I knew there was nothing for me to do but take his thrusts as deeply and as smoothly as I could. I could feel his breath on my neck, ragged and urgent, as his cock churned into my pussy, to my cervix, and knocked at the door of my womb.

"You whore," he moaned. "Take it, you fucking slut - take - my - cock!" With every word he thrust harder. Squeezed breathless against the wall I felt my cunt opening to him, accepting his iron meat, pleasing him. I had to grip his shoulders with both hands as his thrusts flung me up and down again, his thick shaft pummeling my engorged clit. In another moment, he gave one last thrust, deeper and stronger than the others, and suddenly I felt the hot, thick flood of cum deep in my belly. Knowing he had arrived gave me my orgasm, and we strained and quivered there against the wall for what felt like hours as he drained his load into my willing womb.

Then he was off me, hastily adjusting his cock and zipping his fly. Then he reached up and cupped my chin, holding my head still against the hard tile wall and looking straight into my eyes as I panted. "You're a very good bitch," he said. "Very useful, indeed."

I smiled. "Thank you," I whispered. "And you used me so well!"

He ran some water quickly on his hands, snatched a paper towel, and was gone. I stepped into the stall and cleaned up as best I could, drying my shaven pussy and trembling thighs, smoothing the rumpled linen of my dress, patting my hair back into place. I needed to retie my pony tail; my long straight brown hair had gone wild while pressed against the wall. I did my best to tidy myself, but I could still feel his hot, heavy load burning deep in my pussy; I would carry his cum with me to the airplane and into the sky, my husband and stepdaughters oblivious to the sweet service I had been pressed into by a masterful stranger.

I met my reflected eyes in the mirror and smiled. I knew that the man I had married had lost interest; he was my master these days in name only. But in the last few hours I had made an important discovery: I was still useful, still desirable, still able to do what only a real woman can do to please a real man. And, even though the stranger in the restroom had taken me so hard and so quickly, I was not yet satisfied. If anything, I was hungrier to serve than ever before.

Mexico, here I cum!

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5 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousalmost 5 years ago
She may not realize it yet

But, Mexico is where she will stay! When the family heads home.

don87654don87654about 16 years ago
Changing Room(s)

There is a use for a changing table. Now that I think of it, there may be another use for it, too, depending on how heavy the adults are that are using it.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 16 years ago
Ass holes can read too

Sorry about the first comment. It just shows that idiots and ass holes can read. They can't comprehend. Keep up the good work.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 16 years ago
I liked it...

It was short, sweet and erotic. Great job!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 16 years ago
I Firmly Believe...

...functional illiterates should never try to write stories. This "story" is a great illustration why.

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