Chapter 4

Just before he passed away in the hospital, my dad told me that I had to step up and be the good man he had raised me to be. My new stepmother, Sandra was going to be lost for a while, so I had to be The Man of The House. For the last year, I had done the best I could. Learning how to cook and do laundry and send out the bills along the usual chores any kid my age had to do.

Unlike her sister, my blond, blue eyed stepmother Sandra was short, busty and on the chubby side. Unlike her sister, she was quiet and unassuming. We got along okay. I was careful with her; I sensed a certain fragility about her. A good man wouldn’t upset his stepmom and make her cry.

This month she was working nights, so my job was to make coffee to wake her up in time so she could get to work on time. She didn’t sleep well during the day, so she had developed the habit of taking a sleeping pill. As a result, sometimes she slept too long and was late for work.

I went to her room, switched on the lights and shook her.

“Time to get up. It’s 4:30.”

She huddled under a sheet and moaned, “Little longer, honey. Sleepy still.” She pulled a pillow over her head.

“No, you’re going to be late. I’ll get a cup of coffee for you.”

I gave her a couple of spanks on the bum.

I went to the kitchen, poured her a cup of coffee, added the cream and took it back to her.

She had gone back to sleep.

“I’m serious, Sandra, you’re gonna be late. I pulled the covers off her. Her night gown was rucked up. I got an eyeful of naked ass before she rolled over and sat up.

Wow.

“Um ... it’s 4:30. Here’s your coffee. You got time for a shower if you get going. I’ll make you some eggs and toast.”

The whole time I was talking I was running my eyes over her body trying to see some more naughty bits. I could see the outline of her heavy breasts sway under her gown as she stretched and yawned. She caught me looking at them. I quickly averted my eyes.

“Thanks honey, get out of here so I can get ready.”

I looked again and watched, fascinated, as her nipples expanded and poked out of her thin gown like the erasers of a couple of fat pencils. I looked up at her face. She was staring at my middle. I looked down. Shit, my cock was rock hard sticking out of my sweatpants.

Embarrassed and humiliated, I rushed out of the room, but not before one more surreptitious glance at her legs trying to see her pussy as she sipped her coffee (no luck).

Jesus, I was such a wicked kid.

But criminey, she sure had some nice big titties to go with a big naked ass that I slapped. I remembered how it jiggled after I spanked it.

We were more like roommates than parent and son. Prior to my under the porch experience, which had kick started my wicked behavior, we were relaxed about dress around the house. While I hadn’t seen her naked or anything, plenty of times I’d seen her walking around in bras and panties. I think this was the first time I recognized her as a sexual being.

As usual, our family friend, denial, came to the rescue. We ignored uncomfortable things, most especially things like sex. Thoughts regarding sex remained unspoken. They were quickly swept under the rug of denial in case someone acknowledged them.

But they were not forgotten.