Step Mother
by MicaMeesha
Copyright© 2026 by MicaMeesha
Erotica Sex Story: My stepmother visits whilst my wife is away, and she has designs on me.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction InLaws .
My wife Jessie was away on business, a trip to London for a few days to negotiate the terms of a contract her company would be undertaking. We texted as she sat on the train; we FaceTime-d as she walked through Euston; we FaceTime-d again as she sat in the cab to her hotel, and then later, once she was settled in her room, she FaceTime-d me again.
“I hate being away from you, sweetheart,” she said, her face close to the screen.
“Oh God, baby, I hate it too.” It is true; I do.
“Let me show you the room.” She turned the camera around and then slowly swivelled. There was a large bed; beyond was a sitting area with a settee, and beyond that a work desk, and then the large window. The drapes were undrawn; I could see the lights of London beyond. She walked through the room and showed me the bathroom. It had a large rainforest shower and two sinks. In the mirror I caught a reflection of her; she was naked as she spoke to me.
“Oh baby, I miss you so much; I miss your scent, I miss your touch, and I miss the taste of you.”
“Sweetheart,” she said, “I miss you too. I want your tongue between my legs, nibbling, licking, and tonguing me into submission.”
“Baby, I want to taste you, to savour the flavour of your honey pot. I want you to lie quivering as I have your clitoris in my mouth and my fingers inside your fanny and your arse. I want your climax to crush my fingers as your fanny and arse clench and you drown my face with your juices.”
We carried on like that for a few moments, and eventually we kissed our farewells with promises to speak in the morning. I turned and found myself staring at Sarah, my stepmother. I had forgotten that she had come over. She had been out of the room when Jessie called, and I had been facing the garden and hadn’t heard her behind me. She would have heard everything. Oh well.
“Oh, Sarah,” I said, “I thought that you were in the other room.”
Sarah laughed, “Don’t be silly, you two are married; I only wish your father spoke to me like that sometimes.”
What could I say? I didn’t really want to think of my dad and stepmother having sex; I just shrugged.
The door knocked, and I looked at it, surprised.
“That’s the takeaway,” Sarah said. “I ordered us something, and when I came in to tell you, you were already deep into the call with Jessie.”
“Oh, okay, thanks.”
I went to the door, paid and tipped the driver and took the bag into the house. I put it on the kitchen table and opened it. Chinese. “Anything in particular?” I asked.
“Oh God no, just stick something of everything in bowls; we can sit on the settee and eat, yes?”
“Yes, of course,” I answered.
“And bring me a fork; I can’t be doing with chopsticks.”
I dished out the Chinese into the bowls. It was chop suey, sweet and sour chicken, egg fried rice and a large spring roll. I grabbed some paper towels and forks and took them through to the lounge.
“Do you have any wine?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, of course, I would have offered, but I thought you were driving.”
“Well, I am, but I can sleep on your settee and go home in the morning. The weather out there is horrible; I would rather drive home in daylight.”
“Okay, but we do have a guest bed made up; as you know, you can have that. Côtes du Rhône okay?” I asked. I didn’t want to waste a good wine when we were having Chinese, which would corrupt our palates.
“Perfect.”
I went and grabbed a bottle and unscrewed the top. No corkscrew needed for the cheaper wine. I went back with two glasses and the wine. After pouring two rather large glasses of wine, I handed one to Sarah and put the other on the side table, leant forward and grabbed my bowl of Chinese and sat down next to Sarah.
Inevitably we were a little crushed together; Jessie’s and my sofa is not the largest, but we managed without clashing elbows. Jessie and I liked the sofa, as it pretty much ensured a cuddle every time we sat down.
The Chinese was good, and we had probably eaten about half before any conversation started. “It was so sweet hearing you and Jessie on the phone.”
“Oh, okay, Sarah, thanks, I think. I had not realised that you were there listening.”
“Be honest, you had forgotten I was even here.”
“God no, Sarah; I could never do that.” Well, of course, I had forgotten she was here. In fact I wasn’t entirely sure I knew why she had come over. “Just popping to say hello,’ she had said.
“Yeah, sure, no one is ever interested in their stepmum.”
Sarah is about twelve years older than me and still looks like she is in her mid-twenties. She dresses immaculately and keeps herself trim. She knows Dad cheated on my mum with her, and she has told me in the past that she has no intention of letting him play away from her in the same way.
“Don’t be bloody silly. If you weren’t my mum, etcetera.”
“If I weren’t your mum, you’d what?”
“Look at you differently as the gorgeous, beautiful woman you are rather than my mum.”
“Well, I am not your mum; I am your stepmum,” she said, draining her wine glass, “and that makes a difference.”
I filled her glass, which drained the bottle. “Wait one,” I said as I went and retrieved and opened another bottle.
“What difference? I have always treated you as my mum. I have never treated you badly, have I?”
“No, but you have never treated me as a woman, you know, as you do Jessie.”
I was quiet; the wine was having an effect on my brain, and I couldn’t be sure if she was teasing me or coming on to me.
“Well, no, but you are my mum; it wouldn’t be right for me to think of you as a sexual person. It wouldn’t be right for me to say the things to you that you heard me say to Jessie.”
‘I have read that boys often fantasise about their mums, yet you never looked at me like that.”
“I didn’t say that I didn’t; I just said that it would be wrong of me to think of you that way, and just because you never saw me looking like that didn’t mean I didn’t.”
Sarah drained her wine; I topped her up and left my bowl on the table. I had taken enough Chinese for now. We were now on about a bottle of wine each, and as I supped my wine, I looked at her properly. Her blouse was white, almost sheer, and I could see the outline of her underwear. She had undone a couple of buttons on her blouse, presumably when I went to get the next bottle of wine. Her skirt was a pale blue, with one large pleat down the front, and it finished above the knee; her legs were covered in either tights or stockings – I couldn’t tell. She looked like what she was, a beautiful and sexy woman.
“So,” she said, prodding me in the ribs, “you did look at me like that?”
“Of course I did; I am not stupid. I am not a monk.”
“And what did you think?”
“What do you mean, ‘what did I think?’
“Well, when you looked at me like that, what thoughts went through your head? What did you imagine? What did you want to do?”
“What do you think? I am a normal, fully functioning straight man. What did you think I thought?”
“I imagine you thought of me as a woman, that you imagined me naked.”
“Well, there you are then.”
“And now? Tonight?”
“What do you mean?”
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