Incest/Taboo The Single Mothers Club

I followed Samantha back inside the house, careful to take off my dirty shoes and brush off my clothes before stepping onto the cool tiles of the kitchen. At a small table, Ms. Okinawa had set out two more sweating beers, and some expensive looking cheese and crackers.

I sat down and finished off my first beer. "Do you want one?" I asked Samantha.

She laughed. "I'm only 18, I don't drink!"

"Oh yeah," I recalled, "your mom is pretty strict, right?"

"Strict is an understatement," Samantha admitted. She started to slice up some of the softening cheese.

Suddenly I felt a presence, as if another light had been turned on in the room. Ms. Okinawa's cool, affectless voice came from behind me. "The yard looks great, Ansel," she said.

Ms. Okinawa glided to the table and sat in one of the chairs. Even sitting in a kitchen chair, she looked elegant, like a statue carved from cold white marble. She had let her hair down, and it flowed almost to the small of her back, long and lustrous like Lupe's, but with more body to it. She brushed a curl from her forehead and took a sip of beer. I saw her throat working as the cool liquid slid down.

Ms. Okinawa smiled cooly, and looked between us. "I didn't realize you two knew each other."

Samantha nodded. "Ansel helped me out a lot in high school. He was like my guardian angel."

Ms. Okinawa gave me a long look. "We need nice guys like you, Ansel. I hope you find one in the fall, Samantha."

"In the fall?" I asked Samantha.

"I'm going to college in August," she said. "UC Berkeley. I'm so excited!"

Sammy did a little dance in her chair, her soft body bouncing to a beat from inside her head.

Ms. Okinawa said, "I'm sure you'll miss your mom. Are you leaving anyone else behind? A boyfriend?"

Samantha gasped. "Oh no, Ms. Okinawa! My mom never let me date."

"Oh but come on," Ms. Okinawa teased. "Surely you've been seeing someone behind her back. I have to imagine you have a line of boys interested in you."

I saw Sammy blush and she looked away. "My mom would have found out, I'm sure of it. What she says is the law in our home."

Ms. Okinawa shook her head sadly, then turned to me. "Ansel, don't you think a young woman like Samantha needs some dating experience before she goes to college? The men there will eat her alive."

I shrugged, not sure what to say. "Sammy's a smart cookie. I think she'll figure it out."

Samantha gave me a thankful smile. I could tell the conversation had upset her. Once more, I was acting as her guardian angel.

Suddenly there was a whine and cry from down the hallway.

"Uh oh," Samantha said, standing up. "Little Leanne is awake. I'll go check on her."

Ms. Okinawa's dark eyes followed Samantha as she walked from the kitchen. Then she turned back to me. She propped her chin in an elegant hand, and gave me a strange look. "I hear you've been helping out with the other Single Mothers," she said.

I nodded. "Babysitting and cleaning, mostly."

She raised an eyebrow. "Mostly, hm?"

The corner of her mouth rose in a wry smile.

"I guess you really are a nice guy," she said.

I could tell Ashley wasn't home when I walked through the door. The apartment was silent, and more than that, the smell of her was absent. I felt something drop in my chest.

In the shower, my thoughts returned to Ashley. I thought of her last night, touching herself on the couch. How she told me she liked to be spanked, her hair pulled. Her beautiful mouth fucked. I felt myself getting hard. As I stroked my cock, I'm not sure who I thought of. The images in my mind were of Ashley, but also of Samantha's luscious bouncing tits, of Kimberly Okinawa's slender neck and piercing eyes. Perhaps I thought of Lupe's ass in her leggings and her long black hair blowing in the wind outside the museum. Or Erin's red locks and full legs beneath her jeans shorts. As I came, my mind was crowded with lips and tits and thighs and asses, flooded by beauty and lust.

Dried and shirtless in my towel, I saw I'd missed a call from Ashley. I immediately called her back.

"Hey Ansel," she said, "I just talked with Kimberly."

"Oh yeah?"

"She said you did a great job in the yard. I'm not surprised."

"Oh thanks!"

Ashley paused for a moment, and then I heard a bit of wickedness sneak into her voice. "She also told me you ran into Samantha."

"Yeah, Sammy was babysitting for Ms. Okinawa."

"She's turned into a little hottie, hasn't she?"

I laughed, and I knew that Ashley would be able to practically hear my cheeks blushing through the phone.

"Anyways," she continued, "Kimberly was asking if she could take you out to dinner, as a thank you for the hard work you did today."

"These moms and their dinners!" I exclaimed.

"Well, you know what they say. The way to a man's heart is-"

"Through his stomach," I finished.

"I mean, that's one way to a man's heart. I bet you could think of another way," Ashley teased.

"Are you playing Hot or Cold again?" I asked.

Ashley laughed. It was good to hear her laugh. "No, no, I don't want to get in trouble at work. Oh, speaking of work, I'm going to be staying late. There's a lot to catch up on. Before you get dressed for tonight, check out the suit I left on my bed. I pulled it out of the closet this morning, thought you might like it. Your dad wore it once or twice, and it looked sharp on him."

"Do you want me to wear it?"

"Yeah," Ashley said, "it would make me happy to think of you in it."

"Okay," I replied, "I'll check it out."

"Kimberly will be swinging by to pick you up around seven. I've got to get back to work. I..." Ashley's voice trailed off for a moment. "I hope you have fun tonight."

"Thanks Ashley," I said, ending the call.

Thinking over Ashley's final words, I wandered to her bedroom. On the bed lay a well-cut gray suit and white button-down shirt. I tried it on, and looked at myself in a full-length mirror near Ashley's bed. For a moment, my heart shuddered. I was looking at a ghost of my father, a reflection of his younger years. This must be what my father had looked like when he met my mother.

I felt him, suddenly, in this room he had shared with Ashley. In the bed where he had slept next to her. Where he had fucked her. Where I had fucked her. I felt a wave of guilt, knowing I still lusted after my dad's wife. I felt revulsion, knowing I wanted to fuck my step-mom again. I felt lust, my cock stirring, wondering when I would once more share Ashley's bed.

A little before seven, I heard a honk outside. I ran down the steps in my suit and my nice shoes from the funeral. Kimberly Okinawa sat in the driver's seat of a black Tesla, her thick black hair down over her shoulders and back. I saw her eyes dance over my suit, and she gave me a half-smile. "Looking good, Ansel."

I got into the passenger seat, and we set off. Ms. Okinawa told me she was taking me to one of her favorite Japanese restaurants. "I wrote them a great review once. Now they let me park in a private spot in the back. One of the many benefits of being a reporter," she laughed.

Ms. Okinawa had a beautiful laugh, like crystal clear water flowing over smooth pebbles. Sitting in the car with her, I felt a little dizzy with her beauty. She was wearing a starched white blouse with a high collar, half unbuttoned to show off her ivory sternum and a hint of her small breasts. Her long, gorgeous legs were concealed under a pleated green skirt the color and weight of seafoam.

Cars filled the street outside Ms. Okinawa's favorite restaurant, but she pulled down a tiny alley and parked in a secluded spot next to a cinderblock wall that had been painted with a mural of fish and mermaids. When we got out of the car, I was reminded how tall and elegant Ms. Okinawa was.

We entered the restaurant through the back, and Ms. Okinawa led me through the crowded tables to the hostess at the front. The whole way I could see men and women turning to stare at this statuesque beauty walking before me. I couldn't keep my eyes away from her tall, slender figure, and the thick mane of black hair cascading down her back like an ocean's waves on a moonless night.

Ms. Okinawa had made a reservation, and we were led to a small table near the window. As we sat down, Ms. Okinawa grabbed both menus and handed them to the waitress. "Omakase, and my usual, but for two," she ordered. "And sake, hot." The waitress nodded and walked off.

Ms. Okinawa turned her dark, narrow eyes towards me. I felt as if a spotlight were shining upon my seat, the rest of the restaurant fading away into the darkness.

"So," she said. "Are the rumors true?"

I gulped. "Rumors?"

"Come now, Ansel. I'm worried about Ashley. It's unusual for her to be ordering someone around like she is with you. She's usually a much more... submissive person. She's acting out of character, don't you think?"

I felt pinned, as if in a spider's web. "Um, I'm not sure. I never really got to know her well before I went to college."

Ms. Okinawa stared at me, her face almost emotionless. Only her eyes showed her interest. She had a feline beauty to her, Ms. Okinawa, and I was a mouse frozen in her gaze.

I suddenly found myself telling Ms. Okinawa all about my step-mother- that is, about my life with her before my father's death. I confessed to her the poor relationship I'd had with my dad. How I had been so distrustful of Ashley when I'd met her. She'd been 23, in a new relationship, and I hadn't made things easy. I detailed for Ms. Okinawa the two years of high school I'd spent babysitting my twin step-siblings while my dad and step-mom fucked loudly in the bedroom. I couldn't stop the flow of words, talking about college, about the awkward phone calls home, the few visits. And finally I came to the funeral. Recalling Ashley at my father's wake, her black dress contrasting with her pale arms and face, the hug and kiss she'd given me, and that night, the night I first held her in my arms... I suddenly went silent.

Ms. Okinawa's eyes narrowed. She leaned forward, and I could see more of her breastbone and the tops of her small pale breasts through the open top of her blouse. It looked like she wasn't wearing a bra, and imagining her nipples rubbing against the fabric of her blouse gave me a shock of pleasure.

"I'm a prize-winning reporter, Ansel," she said in a stern voice, "and that's because I can smell bullshit from a mile away. I'm going to ask you a question, and if you lie to me you'll be walking home. Do you understand me?"

I nodded, wondering and fearing what this goddess was about to ask.

She raised her sharp chin and looked down her thin nose at me. "Are you two fucking?"

Suddenly the waiter was there, placing a bottle of warm sake on the table, and pouring a small cup for each of us. Steam rose between us. My heart was thudding, and I picked up my cup in a shaking hand.

The waiter told us the food would be ready soon, and left. Ms. Okinawa picked up her cup, but kept the steaming sake by her lips, her eyes frozen on mine. I felt the heat of the sake starting to burn my fingertips, and knew Ms. Okinawa must be feeling the same. I also knew she wouldn't drink until I answered.

I took a deep breath. My voice seemed to be trapped in my stomach. My answer took its time crawling up my lungs, through my throat, and out my mouth.

"Yes," I said.

We drank.

As I released my cup onto the table, I added, "But just once."

Ms. Okinawa refilled our glasses and we drank again.

"Kind of," I finished.

Ms. Okinawa raised a fine dark eyebrow. "Are you two... a couple?"

I shook my head, blushing. "No, no. Just... I don't know. I think she needed comfort."

Ms. Okinawa nodded thoughtfully. She refilled the glasses again. I was starting to feel a little loopy, but I gulped the hot sake down.

"Okay, I understand," she said. "This will stay between the two of us. Don't worry. I'm very protective of my friends. And I think you and I could be good friends. Ashley told me you studied writing in college?"

I nodded and started to tell Ms. Okinawa about my studies. I had been absolutely passionate about writing for the first few years of college, but in my senior year I felt myself burning out. It became harder and harder to get the words down on paper.

Ms. Okinawa listened thoughtfully, adding her own opinions and experiences. Slowly our food arrived, a plate at a time. Ms. Okinawa told me about each dish, what she liked about it or found challenging, serving generous portions onto my plate. When we finished the first bottle of sake, she ordered another, though didn't pour herself any more. "I need to get us home safely," she laughed.

The sake and food seemed to melt Ms. Okinawa's icy demeanor. She started sharing stories from her own college years, hilarious stories about boys she lusted after, girls she experimented with, professors she still had crushes on.

"I was a bit of a slut in college," she admitted. "Does that tarnish your view of me?"

I laughed and told her that I found her honesty frankly attractive. Ms. Okinawa was a fantastic conversationalist. She asked interesting questions, gave insightful answers, and made me nearly shoot sake through my nose with laughter. She seemed to be warming up to me, too. At one points she reached out to wipe some salmon roe from my chin, then left her slender fingers here. She traced my cheek with her finger and looked me in the eye.

"I can see what Ashley sees in you," she said. "I guess I understand now why you're the hot topic of the Single Mothers Club."

I blushed, and Ms. Okinawa laughed, pulling her hand away.

Suddenly, over her shoulder, I saw a face staring our way. It was a man in his late 30's, with black hair pulled back into a short ponytail and a scrum of beard on his strong chin. Below his thick black eyebrows, his eyes were hot coals staring death in my direction. He gripped a pair of chopsticks like a dagger he wanted to plunge into my neck.

Ms. Okinawa must have seen a strange look cross my face. She turned, then sighed. Her beautiful slim shoulders slumped.

"Oh god, that's John. That's my husband," she said. She turned back to me and hurriedly added, "We're separated."

"I, uh, I heard about it."

"Oh yeah? I guess you're not the only one being gossipped about."

"He, uh, looks angry."

"Well yeah, his wife is on a date with a handsome young man. I bet he's angry. Let's see how he feels when I do this..."

Ms. Okinawa reached out, grabbed my chin, and pulled me across the table for a kiss. Her lips parted mine and her tongue writhed into my mouth. I felt electricity enter my body, I felt the restaurant shift and fall off a cliff, I felt the moon crash into the earth and I felt Ms. Okinawa's hot breath and beautiful face pressed against mine.

She released me, and I collapsed back into my chair.

Ms. Okinawa's cheeks were pink and her lips were flushed from kissing. She took out a stack of bills from her purse, placed them on the table, and stood. "Let's go," she said.

I followed Ms. Okinawa back through the restaurant to the back door. Again, the eyes of men and women were on us. This time, though, I could tell something was different. They weren't just seeing a beautiful woman and a young man. Ms. Okinawa had created something with that kiss, a dream, a story. The eyes on us could see possibility, could see lust and desire, could see my cock pressing against my slacks as it tried to burst out and plunge into Ms. Okinawa!

And I knew, the entire time, that John Okinawa was wishing death upon me. I just didn't care.

Ms. Okinawa burst out laughing as we exited. "Oh, to see the look on his face! That must have been gut-wrenching!"

I laughed too, still dizzy from the kiss. Ms. Okinawa took my hand as we crossed the small private lot to her Tesla. Before she opened the driver's side door, she pulled me into a hug.

I wasn't used to hugging taller women, but it felt amazing. Ms. Okinawa wrapped her long arms around me, and pressed me into her blouse and skirt. I held onto her waist and ran a hand up her back, feeling her trim figure.

Ms. Okinawa pulled back, but still held onto me so that our hips were pressed together. I knew she could feel my erection pushing against her skirt and what lay beneath it.

"I had a really great date," Ms. Okinawa said, smiling at me. "My first great date in a while. Thank you."

"I had a great time too."

"Let me drive you home," she said. She winked at me, and let me go.

Shakily, I crossed over to the passenger side door and got in. Ms. Okinawa was sitting in her seat, but hadn't turned on the car. The private lot was dark, barely illuminated by a street light almost a block away. Behind her I could see the painted fish swimming over the wall.

Ms. Okinawa turned towards me, her eyes narrowed over a wicked grin.

"We could start driving home," she said, "or we could make out like horny teenagers."

I didn't wait to answer. I sunk my fingers into Ms. Okinawa's thick black hair and pulled her to my mouth.

Ms. Okinawa was a strong kisser. She hungrily pressed her lips against mine and ground her tongue into my mouth. Her hands trailed through my hair and grabbed onto the back of my neck. The smell of her was in my nose, the taste of her on my tongue, and my whole body seemed to be pouring through my lips into hers.

I broke away from Ms. Okinawa's lips and kissed down her sharp jawline and slender neck, down to her collarbone in the open top of her blouse. Ms. Okinawa hurriedly started unbuttoning her white blouse, her fingers precise over the buttons. She was wearing no bra, and her small breasts, each perfectly palm-sized, were soon free. Her nipples were large and pink, standing out like twin thumbs. As Ms. Okinawa lifted her head in pleasure, I kissed my way down her breastbone towards her left breast. I licked around her areola, big wet licks coating her breast in my saliva. Then I flicked my tongue over her large nipple, teasing it. Ms. Okinawa laughed.

"Oh god that feels good," she moaned. "Suck on them. Suck on my tits."

I obliged. I sucked her large nipple between my tight lips. Meanwhile, I squeezed her right breast in my hand, pinching and rolling the nipple between my fingers. Ms. Okinawa breathed heavily, her head thrown back, her hair coiling over her bare shoulders and between her breasts.

Ms. Okinawa pulled my hand away from her breast and to her mouth. She slipped a finger between her lips and sucked on it. I switched breasts with my lips, sucking the whole breast into my mouth and working my tongue around the nipple. Ms. Okinawa moaned around my finger. She grabbed my hair and kept me at her breast. I continued to suck hard, my lips latched around her broad areola. My hands worked down her body towards her pleated green skirt. I started to work the hem up her legs, but Ms. Okinawa pulled me away.

"Wait, wait," she said. "It's your turn now. Sit back."

I sat up, then lowered the seat into a more relaxed position. My cock was pressing up against my gray slacks. Ms. Okinawa's eyes were on my crotch, a hungry look in their dark depths. With a long, pale finger, she trailed up and down the length of my erection. I gave out a shuddering sigh.

Ms. Okinawa skillfully unbuckled my belt, and unbuttoned and zipped open my pants. She pulled my cock from my boxers. It was swollen into a massive erection, the head of my cock purple and beaded with precum.

Ms. Okinawa gingerly wrapped her fingers around my shaft, then dipped the pad of her thumb into the precum. She swirled her thumb around the head of my cock until it was glistening. I felt like my cock was going to burst, it was so hard. I groaned.

Ms. Okinawa stuck the thumb in her mouth and sucked on it. "Yum," she said. She licked her fingers, then rubbed her saliva-coated hand over my dick.

"God that feels good," I moaned.

"Don't cum yet," Ms. Okinawa ordered.

She started to stroke me up and down, gently squeezing her hand over the head of my cock each time, collecting more precum which she spread on the way down. With her other hand she played with her tits, massaging the flesh and pinching her large pink nipples.

Ms. Okinawa had her dark feline eyes entirely on my cock. Her pale, high cheekbones were flushed pink, and her small tits rose and fell with each quick breath. Her tongue darted over her lips hungrily, and she lowered her head towards my lap.

Suddenly there was a loud banging on the car window. Ms. Okinawa leaped up in her seat. I scrambled to pick my crumpled jacket off the car floor and cover my cock.

"You bitch! You whore!" a voice shouted from outside.

"Oh Jesus, it's John," Ms. Okinawa swore.

John Okinawa, Kimberly's husband, stood outside the car, his shoulders high and his face twisted in fury. He banged again with an open palm against the window of the driver's seat door.

"You slut! You fucking slut! Stop it! Stop it right now!" John shouted.

Ms. Okinawa held her blouse closed with one hand, and raised a middle finger towards her husband with the other.

"Fuck you, John," she said through the closed window.

John suddenly collapsed against the window, his head against his arm.

"Oh god," he moaned pathetically, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Kim. Kimmy, my Kimmy, please, please stop. Please take me back. I'm sorry, it meant nothing, I swear!"

Ms. Okinawa just stared at him. I didn't know where to put my eyes. John looked so sad, like a puppy forced out into the rain.

Ms. Okinawa asked him, "What are you even doing here?"

"I was missing you," John admitted. "This was always your favorite place. I just wanted to be somewhere important to you. And then I saw you with... with him. Isn't he a little young for you?"

"Wasn't your secretary nineteen?"

"Oh god, you're right Kim, I'm a bastard. I was weak. I'm an idiot. But please, you're breaking my heart. Please don't fuck him."

Ms. Okinawa gave out a single cold laugh.

"I'm going to," she said.

I felt my cock leap beneath the jacket.

John stared through the window in disbelief.

"I'm going to fuck him, and there's nothing you can do about it. It's going to be the best pussy he's ever had, John. I'm going to fuck him until he cums inside me, then I'm going to fuck him some more. He's going to worship me like a fucking goddess and no other pussy will ever be as good."

John groaned, closing his eyes, and then the car was silent. Finally, he looked through the window and asked in a small voice, "Can I watch?"

Ms. Okinawa unlocked the doors.

"Get in the back," she commanded. "You may not talk, and you may not touch yourself. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Kimmy."

"Sorry?" Ms. Okinawa's voice could have cut steel.

"Yes, my goddess," came John's humble correction as he opened the back door and slid inside.

My heart was thundering in my chest. Maybe it was all the sake I had drunken, or maybe it was Ms. Okinawa's commanding presence, but I suddenly knew that I would do whatever she told me to.

Ms. Okinawa turned in her seat towards me, reading me with those narrow, dark eyes. She reached out and stroked my cheek.

"Just relax," she said, "but keep your eyes open. I want you to see everything I'm about to do to you."

I nodded.

Ms. Okinawa moved my jacket aside. My dick had gone limp in all the tension between her and John. As John breathed heavily in the backseat, Ms. Okinawa lowered her beautiful face to my crotch. I wove my fingers into her long, thick black hair.

Ms. Okinawa ran her tongue up and down the shaft of my cock. She lapped at the sensitive spot right beneath the head of my dick. Immediately I felt blood rushing to my cock, and the head started to swell up. Ms. Okinawa sucked the head of my cock into her mouth. She ran her lips up and down the head, squeezing it, getting it wet with her saliva. I started to get hard again. I gathered more of Ms. Okinawa's dark curls in my hands so I could watch her face in profile. She had a hand around the base of my cock, squeezing it, and her lips stayed on my head. She started to bob her head, taking in a bit more of my cock, slowly. Meanwhile, her hand started to pump my shaft. Suddenly her fingers slipped into my boxers and Ms. Okinawa took my balls in her hand. She gently squeezed them as the rest of my cock vanished down her throat. I groaned.

Behind me, I could hear John's breathing quicken.

Ms. Okinawa kept my cock deep in her mouth for many long moments. I could see her beautiful pale throat working as she fought off her gag reflex. Finally she lifted up, gasping for air, thick strands of saliva trailing between her open mouth and my now rock-hard erection.

Ms. Okinawa started to stroke my cock, her hand moving all the way from the base over the head and back down. Her stroke was fast and firm. She raised her face to mine and kissed me deeply. My lips and chin became coated in her saliva.

Ms. Okinawa lowered her face back to my dick and gobbled it down again. As I held her hair out of the way, I could see her mouth stretched over my girth, her eyes closed in concentration. She bobbed her head, sucking me, making little grunts as I eased down her throat each time she lowered her face and slid out each time she rose. I started to thrust my hips a bit each time she lowered her head, getting my cock even deeper into her mouth.

I felt overwhelmed by lust and desire and the strangeness of the situation. I was getting a blowjob from this statuesque woman, this mother and neighbor and friend of my step-mom's. Her husband watched us from the backseat, silent and suffering. It was incredibly hot, and incredibly wrong. I loved it.

I felt myself nearing a climax. "I'm getting close," I warned Ms. Okinawa.

She immediately pulled her face away, my cock popping out of her lips. She wiped the saliva from her chin and looked me in the eye.

"You better not fucking cum until I tell you, got it?" she commanded.

"Yes, Ms. Okinawa," I said.

"Good boy," she smiled wolfishly.

Ms. Okinawa sat up in her seat. Her blouse was still unbuttoned, and breastbone and the tops of her tits were flushed red. She started to gather her pleated light green skirt up around her thighs. She wriggled, and slid black lacy panties down to her knees, then over her feet.

"I'm going to need your help with this," she said.

She got up on her bare knees on her seat, keeping her skirt up around her waist. I could just see hints of her upper thighs, but her pussy was concealed by the loose fabric. She braced herself against my window with a hand, then maneuvered herself over my lap. She drove her knees into the seat on either side of my hips. She reached down beneath her raised skirt and grabbed my hard cock. She angled it upwards and rubbed it against her hot, wet pussy lips.

Ms. Okinawa looked over my shoulder.

"Are you watching me, John?" she asked.

"Yes, my goddess."

"Don't fucking talk, John."

Ms. Okinawa sank down over my cock in one fluid motion. Her pussy was tight and hot and wonderful. I let out a loud groan and grabbed onto her hips.

Ms. Okinawa started thrusting her hips out and down, out and down, riding my cock. Though I held onto her, she was in complete control. She held onto my shoulder with one hand, the back of the seat with the other. Her small tits bounced right in front of my face, and her thick black hair was everywhere around us.

Ms. Okinawa let out a little satisfied moan each time she thrust downward, her pussy kissing my crotch. Sometimes her eyes were closed tight. Other times they bore into mine, her face completely serious, as if daring me to lose control.

I lost control.

I grabbed hard onto Ms. Okinawa's hips and started thrusting hard into her, meeting her as she came down. I must have been slamming right into her clit because Ms. Okinawa started moaning with each thrust, with each loud slap of our flesh. A blush crept over her breasts and neck.

"Oh god, Ms. Okinawa. I can't hold back," I groaned through gritted teeth.

"Cum inside me," Ms. Okinawa commanded. "Now!"

I released. I thrust once, hard, slamming Ms. Okinawa upwards, and shot what felt like a waterfall's worth of cum into her. I kept my hips raised, balancing Ms. Okinawa on my crotch, before collapsing down.

Ms. Okinawa kissed me, then looked me in the eyes. Her face was flushed, but she still wasn't smiling.

"Don't pull out yet," she said.

Ms. Okinawa leaned back and raised her skirt up above her waist. For the first time I could see her pussy. She had shaved her thick black hair into a small stripe above her pussy lips, which were stretched over the based of my cock. She reached down and got her fingers wet with the juices covering her pussy and my dick. She started to rub her clit furiously, grinding down into me with her body.

"God, you're beautiful," I said.

"Shut the fuck up," Ms. Okinawa shot back, her eyes closed, her free hand running over her neck and through her thick black hair. "Do you know what you are to me? You are just a fat cock. A piece of fucking meat. I can use you any time I want. I can just call up Ashley and say 'Send that fat cock over to my house now.' And you'll come running over, crawling over, wriggling like a worm to my door."

As she talked, Ms. Okinawa rubbed at her clit and ground her hips in a circle.

"You worship me, you sad little shit. You're a motherfucker, a real actual motherfucker. You're a sick little pervert fucking his own step-mom. I bet she treats you like a dog. I bet she says 'sit' and you sit. I bet she has you get on all fours and lick her pussy like a good little boy. You might as well be a fucking dildo. A fucking vibrator that can also do housework."

I felt myself getting hard again inside Ms. Okinawa's pussy. Her dirty talk made me feel exposed, as if she were seeing my secret self.

Suddenly Ms. Okinawa bent over, her hair cascading over my face. She let out a piercing cry as her face turned beet red and she came.

She kissed me with her mouth wide open, her tongue a wild thing against mine. She pulled a bare inch away from my mouth and whispered, "Don't stop kissing me. Don't stop kissing me until you cum again."

This time I took control. I locked my lips against Ms. Okinawa's, breathing her breath, my tongue in her mouth, and I grabbed onto her ass beneath her green skirt. I started forcing her hips up and down over my cock, thrusting my own hips to meet her. The slap of her flesh, the wet noises of our kissing, her moans and my groans filled the car. Knowing John was there, watching me fuck his wife, watching me kiss her dirty mouth, added a perverted edge.

I slammed Ms. Okinawa down over my cock, using her, as if she were just a sex toy I could masturbate with. I squeezed her ass and bit her bottom lip. I kissed her deep as if I were sucking the breath from her lungs. And I said nothing when I came, only thrust harder, my balls aching as I shot my load deep inside her.

Ms. Okinawa collapsed against me in my car seat. She was breathing heavily, her body radiating heat. I felt sweat prickling my skin. I could hardly see anything, with her thick black hair tumbling over my face. I closed my eyes.

I heard the back door open, and John left.

Ms. Okinawa and I stayed there for endless minutes. I felt my cock shrink and slide from her wet pussy.

Eventually, Ms. Okinawa tenderly kissed my neck, then maneuvered herself off of my seat and back into her own. She slid her panties back over her long, pale legs and back under her skirt. She buttoned up her shirt, and smiled at me as I put myself back together.

"Shall I drive you home?" she asked.

The next morning, I again woke up after Ashley had left for work. My body was tender from the previous day's yard work. My cock and balls were sore, a feeling that kept the memories of last night fresh in my mind.

The day passed quickly: breakfast, a jog, then work for the Single Mothers Club. Ashley had filled my week with babysitting, cleaning, and errands.

Ashley left for work before I woke, and stayed there for dinner, picking up food near her office. When she got home in the evening, our conversations were brief. She'd complain of feeling tired, and retreat to her bedroom, where I'd hear her watching TV on her phone.

The week passed this way.

I worried over Ashley. Since the funeral we had built such a bond, a tether woven from grief, and need, and desire. I hungered for her company. When I woke after she left, when I returned to an empty apartment, I felt the ghost of her in every room. I missed her in the living room, watching an old movie on the couch. I missed her in the kitchen, leaning over the island and gossiping on the phone. As I walked to my bedroom, I would miss her call through her door, and feel the absence of her body against mine.

On Friday, as I jogged around the park, my mind was still on Ashley, and it took me some time to realize I was being followed.

Golden Gate Park is never empty, and I didn't notice the black Tesla until it slowed down on the road beside me. As the window rolled down, I expected to see Ms. Okinawa's beautiful slender frame. Instead, John greeted me.

"Hey! Hey, Ansel!"

I didn't hesitate. I turned and ran up a small dirt path into a grove of eucalyptus trees. I heard John swear behind me, and the slam of a door.

"Ansel!" he shouted. "Stop!"

I charged up the steep path, leaping over roots. Looking over my shoulder, I saw John charging up behind me. He wore a business suit, his jacket open, his tie flapping. I swore and kept running.

"Stop!" John shouted again through heavy breaths. "Goddamnit, stop running!"

I turned down a more narrow path and ducked beneath a heavy branch. Suddenly my foot caught in a gopher hole and I spilled onto the pathway. I turned over onto my hands and feet, and leapt up into a run, but John's hand clamped onto my arm.

Gasping, he cried out, "I don't want to heart you! Goddamnit, I just want to say thank you!"

"What?" I shouted.

John put his hands on his knees and sucked in wind. I leaned my arms against the heavy branch and tried to regulate my own breathing.

Finally, John stood. He swept his hair back with one hand and put the other on my shoulder.

"I want to say thank you, Ansel," he said, his eyes on mine. "Both of us do, actually, Kimberly and I."

"Why the fuck are you thanking me?" I burst out. "I fucked your wife right in front of you!"

"I know," John said. "At first I was pissed off. But I've got to tell you. I've never seen my wife look so... sexy. I mean, I know she's a beautiful woman. And when we first met, I couldn't get enough of her. But I guess in recent years I got complacent. Since the baby was born, my eyes started to wander."

John's looked out into the eucalyptus forest, avoiding my eyes. I could tell he felt embarrassed about fucking his secretary. I took the moment to assess this man who Ms. Okinawa had married. I could see how she had fallen for him- he was handsome. He had thick black hair down to the nape of his neck, and strong black eyebrows. His square jaw seemed always coated in stubble, like some photoshopped male model. The way he had sprinted up the hill behind me, I could tell he was fit. When he and Ms. Okinawa had met, she must have felt like she had struck gold. Little did she know that years later she would catch him with his handsome face shoved into his secretary's pussy.

John continued, "When I saw her fucking you... it reminded me just how incredible she is. How lucky I was to meet her. How crazy it is that she ever fell in love with me. I suddenly realized I had to do anything I could to keep that fucking sexy goddess."

"What did you do?" I asked.

John smiled. "I quit my job. I gave up a lot of money. And the secretary, of course. But I kept my wife. She took me back, and we've spent the week working things out. We've been talking a lot. And, well, fucking a lot too. Man..."

John stared off into the forest again.

"So anyways, we were going to call you later, but I saw you in the park and I took the opportunity to talk with you. I really didn't mean to scare you like that."

"Um, it's okay," I said.

"Listen, why don't you come over after dinner for drinks and dessert tonight? We can all celebrate true love together."

I hesitated a moment, then shrugged.

"Sure, why not?"

"Great! I think this will make Kimberly really happy."

John looked back down the path, and said, "I should probably get back to my car. I don't think I'm legally parked."

I laughed, "I guess I'll see you tonight."

John smiled at me and winked.

I was sitting on the couch watching an old show and eating a microwaved dinner when Ashley walked through the door. She was talking on the phone and gave me a quick wave, then walked straight down the hall to her bedroom.

When a half hour passed without her return, I approached her door.

"Ashley?" I called out. "Do you want me to make you something for dinner?"

"No," came Ashley's reply, "I ate at the office. I'm just changing, I'll be out soon."

I checked the time on my phone. I planned on leaving in the next twenty minutes or so. I shrugged, and left to wash up in the bathroom, then changed into my father's gray suit. Wearing it, memories returned to me of Ms. Okinawa. I could feel her thighs against mine, her fingers at my zipper, her thick black hair twisted around my fingers.

As I headed towards the front door, I heard Ashley behind me.

"Oh my, you're looking quite handsome," she said.

I turned. Ashley was dressed in a slim, sleeveless black dress. Her hair was down, framing her pale face in chestnut curls. She wore just a hint of makeup, and a thin gold necklace. The dress emphasized her long arms, her swan neck, the curve of her round breasts.

My mouth must have been open, for Ashley laughed and lifted my chin with her fingers.

"You like it?" she asked. "I picked it up today during my lunch break."

"Yeah, um, it looks great," I said, trying to recover my composure. "Why are you wearing it? Are you going out?"

I suddenly imagined Ashley looping her arm in mine and telling me she was coming to the Okinawa's. I saw us sharing dessert and drinks with the couple, her hand trailing over the back of my neck as we told stories and laughed. Later, we would sit by the large fireplace I had seen there. I would sit in a plush chair, and Ashley would sit on the floor, her head resting in my lap.

"I've got a date tonight," Ashley said.

The dream vanished like a popped bubble.

"With who?" I asked.

"Why, are you jealous?" Ashley gave me a wicked smile. "It's a blind date, I'll have you know. Kimberly set us up."

I didn't know what to say. Of course, it was good for Ashley to date other men. I was her step-son, I could never be what she needed. On the other hand, I remembered Ashley on the couch, touching herself as she commanded me to masturbate. I remembered Ashley in bed, on her knees, her ass in my hands, her face buried in her pillow. And I remembered Ashley in my arms, sobbing in her grief, and the comfort I was able to provide.

I managed to squeak out, "Have fun tonight."

Then, without another look at my beautiful, lovely, sexy step-mom, I walked out the door.

John greeted me at the door. He was dressed in slacks and a silk button-down shirt, the top buttons opened to reveal a chest with wiry black hair. He looked relaxed and happy.

"Come in, come in!" he said.

He led me to the living room, lit by a fire burning happily in a large fireplace. Ms. Okinawa sat on a couch in a blue body-hugging dress, her slender leg revealed up to the thigh by a high slit, a deep dip in her bodice revealing her flawless sternum. Her hair was curled over one shoulder.​