I stepped out of the taxi, my suitcase in hand, and gazed up at the house I’d once called home. It seemed both familiar and foreign after two years at boarding school. The front door opened, and there stood my father, John, his arms open wide. “Steve, my boy! Welcome home!”

I embraced him, feeling the solid strength of his body. He was still the same rugged, manly man I remembered. “It’s good to see you, Dad.”

“And you,” he replied, clapping me on the back. “Come on inside. Your stepmother is eager to meet you properly.”

My stepmother? I’d only met Christine a few times at the boarding school, always in passing. She was tall and beautiful, with long blonde hair and a figure that made men turn their heads. I’d been too shy to say more than a few words to her.

As we entered the house, I saw her standing in the living room, a vision in a sundress that hugged her curves. “Hello, Steve,” she said, her voice warm and inviting. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Hi, mom,” I mumbled, feeling my face flush. She stepped forward and embraced me, her body soft and warm against mine. I caught a whiff of her perfume, something exotic and intoxicating.

Family. I’d never really had much of that, not after my mother died when I was young. But here was my stepmother, and my father, both smiling at me as if I were the most important person in the world.

“Let’s have some lunch,” Dad said, leading us into the kitchen. “I’m sure you’re starving after that long trip.”

We sat down at the table, and Christine served up a delicious-looking casserole. As we ate, she and Dad regaled me with stories of their adventures together. They seemed so happy, so in love. I felt a pang of envy, wishing I had someone to share that kind of bond with.

After lunch, Dad suggested we move into the living room to relax. I settled onto the couch, feeling the plush cushions beneath me. Christine sat down next to me, her thigh brushing against mine. I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of her proximity.

“Christine has something she wants to show you, Steve,” Dad said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Christine stood up and smiled at me. “I do indeed,” she said, reaching for the zipper of her dress. I watched, transfixed, as she slowly pulled it down, the dress falling open to reveal her bare skin beneath.

My jaw dropped as she let the dress slip off her shoulders and pool at her feet. She was wearing nothing underneath, her body on full display. I stared at her, my eyes roaming over her curves, her full breasts, her slender hips, and the slight bush of hair between her legs.