I’ll confess I was nervous about getting along with my wife’s son. I mean, how does a grown man talk with a teen? But after spending time with the boy, my concerns vanished. We bonded over mutual interests… walking, running, anything to stay fit, really. I don’t know when I started fantasizing about him.
Maybe it was there from the start, and I didn’t want to admit it. I tried to fight my desire for the boy, but it was too strong. Each time he comes to my bed, every time he begs me to tell him a bedtime story, each and every time he touches me… I wonder. How could something so wrong feel so right?
My cock has never been so stiff. And that sweet ass… that bright pink, beautiful tiny hole… I’ve never come so hard. Or so much. Spewing and splattering seed all over Taylor gives me a thrill more intense than fucking his mother. In fact, I hardly every fuck her anymore.
Mostly, I fuck him. Her son. And although I tell myself this will be the last time, I know better. So does he. Taylor owns me as surely as I have a hold over him. At least… that’s how it is in my fantasy.
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