Main Characters:

Jean, Female, 43
- Stepmother of Jason
- 5’7, 140lbs, beige skin, dark-mahagony hair over her shoulders
Jason, Male, 17
- Stepson of Jean
- 5’10, 150lbs, beige skin, wavy/lightly-curly blonde hair to his neck

Women know lust, too, you know. I don’t know why so many people, especially men, seem to think that we only think about sex as a passing interest, coming and going without another thought. It was never so for me. From my earliest days of puberty, I was constantly horny and explored a lot of things over those early years, some great, some not so much, but sex was always an integral part of my thoughts and how I interacted with the world.

And men hold no solo grip on perversion, on taboo thoughts, on desires which can only be spoken of carefully and with those you trust. Some are simple ones. Enjoying the vulnerable sensation of being bound and blindfolded. Or wearing a skirt with no panties and showing anyone, of any age, what was between one’s thighs.

Some of us have more complicated desires, more forbidden fantasies. Some of those fantasies become real, and with those lucky enough to be the ones we choose to participate, there are witnesses out there capable of assuring anyone that, yes, some of us women are turned on by that, whatever secret taboo act that is.

For me, it started when I was in my early twenties. I was passive about my interest in teenage boys, even though the age difference left a little more grey area than it does for me now at forty-three. Passive, in that I imagined and fantasized and used the memories of boys and young men I saw or met to fuel a fire when my fingers danced between my thighs. I used my toys and pretended some handsome high school boy was sliding inside me. Those weren’t my only perversions, but they were my favorites.

I married once in my thirties to a man who was a terrible match. Not personality-wise, but sexually. He was creatively sterile and vanilla in his pleasures. Sex with him was okay, sometimes great, but he held no interest in trying new things. When I’d shared a fantasy with him once, about a young man of maybe sixteen, he shut me down and shamed me for thinking of anyone but him. The marriage was dissolved within weeks. I needed more taboo stimulation than missionary sex followed by a blow job.

Other than my first husband, no one had ever shared my secret, the one where I was passionately attracted to high school-aged boys. That fire has burned all my life, and a dark part of me knew that, if I ever found myself in the perfect moment to act on it, I would do so with little hesitation.

I regularly masturbated to porn featuring teen actors, even gay twink scenes. Those, especially, featured young looking boys, often waxed and looking younger down below. I imagined it was me spreading my legs for those boys and being filled with their hard penises until I orgasmed myself silly.

I married my second and current husband, Todd, a little over a year ago, and though I would never admit it to anyone, part of why I did so was because he had a teenage son.

Oh, I liked Todd well enough, but always in my thoughts about him were those taboo ones about his son, Jason.

I’d known Todd for several years, ever since Jason was nine or ten. We were friends, both of us moving in and out of other relationships and eventually dating. I moved in with Todd and his son a few months before the marriage, and I never missed a voyeuristic chance to admire and fantasize about Jason. Often, when Todd was inside me, I closed my eyes and imagined his son was the one pounding me. Honestly, after almost a year, I’m not sure I could climax with Todd any other way.

But Jason was special in another way: I’d seen his penis and testicles a few years earlier, when he was fourteen or so, and that only added fuel to my fire for him, growing stronger over the years as I craved more of what I’d seen that day.

We’d been walking together, the three of us and a handful of other friends, along a sidewalk downtown, heading for dinner after catching a baseball game that afternoon.

I’d barely turned my head at an odd sound to feel something swipe by me, fast and hard, sending me spinning off towards the buildings. I heard screaming, banging my knee hard. I looked up to see a car careening down the sidewalk, immediately slamming into one sign and then another, finally stopping fully when it crunched against the corner of a brick laundromat.

As the radiator hissed and people check on the driver, I saw most of my friends rising to their feet. None of us were seriously hurt, but I lost my sense of priority and reason when I saw Jason.

I found out later that the car had swept a little closer to him, catching his shorts on something and tearing them from his body, ripping his briefs, and sending him spinning. He had scratches and scrapes, nothing broken, but none of that even when through my head when I realized the rip in his underwear had left his groin completely exposed.

Jason was only fourteen, but his penis was rather nice and thick, perhaps six inches already if it had been hard. It bounced and swung as he tried to steady himself on his feet, dazed and not aware of his nakedness.

Oh, but I was.

Tufts of dark fur rose over his shaft, more around it, sparser covering on his young sack. I nearly creamed myself, unable to look away, unable to even consider thinking about checking on the others. For as long as he was uncovered, I think I was stuck.

Until he looked at me and saw where I was looking. Jason cast down and immediately understood his nakedness, covering his groin from my eyes and snapping me from my spell.

I tugged off my jacket and went to him. He was shaking lightly. I said words, he did the same, but all I remember was how badly I wanted Jason’s cock right then. Wrapping the jacket around his waist, I tried to peek into the rip and past the boy’s covering hands, but I was denied one last look at such a sexy presentation.

The jacket tied snug and he thanked me.

After we’d been patched up and checked over, we decided we all needed a drink and headed to a bar instead. No matter what we talked about that night, my thoughts were peppered with fantasies about young Jason.

He was a bit younger than those I usually sought, but I didn’t much care. His cock looked like that I might see on an older boy, and that was all that really mattered. I probably orgasmed to that moment more times over the next few years than all my other fantasies combined.

When Todd and I began to date, the arousal of that sight only grew stronger. I saw Jason more often than before, the boy then about sixteen. He was polite but a little aloof, wearing his blonde hair down over his neck in long, sweeping, carefree curls. Average height, I think, a little shorter than his father’s five-eleven, but with a stocky build, muscular in his shoulders and waist, a rising star in the high school wrestling circuit. Seeing Jason wrestling on the mat with other fit teen boys, wearing tight outfits which showed strong and handsome bottoms, only made me seek out more gay twink videos and pretend it was Jason pounding a feminine-looking teen boy.

After moving in with them, I sought out chances to let my voyeuristic side explore my forbidden thoughts about Jason. I sniffed his underwear regularly, sweaty and musky and wonderful. I snooped his browsing history and was not surprised to find a lot of porn sites being visited. Many of them, to my intense thrill, were MILF videos.

I tried to catch him in the shower, or to let him catch me there, but it never seemed to work out. He was in his underwear a time or two, but only briefly. Still, it was incredibly arousing to live in a house with such a beautiful teen boy.

Since his father often traveled for work, I had opportunities to do things like listen outside his bedroom at night. I was rewarded a few times, usually first hearing low-volume moans of whatever porn video he was watching, and then, sometimes, a few lovely grunts as Jason ejaculated. I almost opened the door several times to watch and offer him the real thing, but I held off for obvious reasons.

But I knew, the longer we lived in the same house, the more opportunities I had to be directly aware of his sexuality, the harder it would be for me to not turn that knob and take a taboo chance of a lifetime.

Jason turned seventeen a few months after Todd and I married. With Todd gone most weekends after our honeymoon, I decided to see if I could push things. We had a pool with a lot of privacy, so I started sunbathing topless on Saturdays.

The first couple of times, Todd never seemed to notice. Or if he did, the teen didn’t take advantage. The third time I was topless by the pool, I pretended to sleep, letting my head roll to one side and making light snoring noises. Todd came out slowly, not looking at me for a moment, then sat down and stared at his phone. It didn’t take long to realize he was using his cell to take pictures of me. Since I wore dark shades, I could see what he was doing while I continued to feign sleep. He sat there a good ten minutes, taking one shot after another, before he rose and disappeared.

I had no doubt he was masturbating and followed him very quietly, listening outside his door. Disappointment followed when I never heard his grunts, but I had enough success that day to encourage me to push things again.

My fourth attempt, I went to his room and knocked on his door, “Jason, it’s nice out, you want to come out and swim and get some sun with me?” It wasn’t unusual for me to invite him to do things with me, even if many of those were for at least somewhat innocent reasons.

“Uhmmm ... yeah ... okay, Momma Jean,” he called through the door.

I walked out to the deck and removed my top, sitting on the edge of the pool and letting my legs hang into the water. I’d specifically chosen the bikini bottoms that day, knowing what effect they should have on Jason. It was just a string in the back, and the front only a small, sheer white triangle that barely covered my cunt. I tended to let my pubes grow full, and the bikini bottoms left tufts of my fur sticking out around the material.

Jason joined me, wearing only a pair of dark trunks. He didn’t look at me for a long time, sliding into the pool and slowly swimming around. I decided to offer him a show, of sorts. My breasts already visible, I lay back on the decking, letting my head rest on a towel, spreading my thighs a few inches so that Jason would have a nice view in between.

I couldn’t see whether he was looking, but I had no doubt he was. I heard the water slosh a while, then it became silent. I was creaming myself just knowing what Jason could see of me. Very slowly, I rolled my head until I could just see over my body. It was not a surprise to see the boy on the other side of the pool, still in the water, his eyes staring right between my legs.

He noticed that I had looked up and tore his eyes away, diving under the water and disappearing.

When he surfaced, I made a show of removing the rest of my bikini, pausing, and then sliding into the water and swimming towards him. Jason’s eyes had darted between my naked body and everywhere else until I was mostly submerged.

“Sorry,” I told him, “I decided I don’t much like tan lines, do you?”

He shook his head, “Nah ... not really...”

“Does it make you uncomfortable? That I’m naked?”

Another shake. “Nah...”

“You can get naked, if you want. I won’t tell your father...”

I don’t know if Jason knew right then what was happening, but I certainly did. I was pushing my fantasy forward, taking a chance that my stepson wanted me, too.

“Uh ... I dunno ... Like ... Dad would kill me and all, cause, you know...”