My Father’s Wife – Calab’s stepmom has a special birthday present in mind

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My mother died when I was nine years old. My father then married a decidedly younger woman, like a month later. I remember there was some gossip going on. Relatives would suddenly stop talking when I walked into the room. It was like some conspiracy. The only comment I ever heard was that she was closer to my age than my fathers.

My father did confide in my years later that he had been having an affair with Connie when my mother died. She died of breast cancer which had moved into her lymph nodes. My father claimed that in his frightened, vulnerable state he turned to another woman for sex. It was to him, something that felt good, in a life of misery.

Things were rough at first, but to her credit, Connie never tried to replace my mom, she was always just Connie to me.

I remember as a young teen checking her out all the time. She was a petite little thing with a slim build, and crazy, sexy legs. The guys were always making comments how my mom was a MILF. Thing is, she didn’t have any children of her own, but I don’t think we properly understood what MILF meant. Still, she was smoking hot. I jerked off over seeing her in her tiny night gown, almost nightly.

As I become an older teen. I wanted nothing more than to do her, and do her hard. I would make random comments about her body, or how pretty she was. She took it all in stride. Looking back, I’m sure she had guys coming on to her all the time.

It started one afternoon, after I came home from football practice. It was the day before my eighteenth birthday. I should probably point out that she was only twenty six, but she looked more like 20. I came into the kitchen, as she was trying to reach something in the back of a cabinet. She was wearing a short skirt, as she was prone to do with a thong underneath. When her skirt had raised up it exposed her entire ass. I stood there in amazement for several seconds sprouting wood like a porn legend.

“Nice Ass! My god that’s perfect,” I said.

She quickly straitened up, pushing her dress back down, blushing like a school girl.

“Caleb, I didn’t hear you come in. Can you reach that muffin mix?”

“I know what I’d like to mix with your muffin.” I retorted, as I reached past her to retrieve the box.

“Stop, before you forget, and your dad hears you when he’s home.”

“When is he ever home?”

As I turned to hand her the box, I just just kissed her. I have no idea where it came from. It wasn’t like I planned it, or there was some tension, we just shared a passionate kiss as if we were already lovers. Her body was so tiny and warm. She felt absolutely perfect. That kiss was absolutely perfect in every way a teen boy could imagine.

“No! Stop.” she yelled, as she pushed me away.

I pulled away, said “I’m sorry,” and started to leave, but she stopped me.

“Caleb wait, it’s not you. I’ve been completely faithful to your father. I’m a married woman. Do you understand?”

“Sure.” I said as nonchalantly as I could, but I knew deep down, that she saw right through me.

I didn’t eat dinner. I was angry at myself for not being man enough for her. “Why did I kiss her anyway?” I asked myself. “God if she tells dad, I’m toast.”

She finally knocked on my bedroom door about nine that night. She brought two of the muffins, and a glass of milk, on a tray.

“You have to be hungry, Caleb. Look, if I weren’t married to your dad, maybe things could have been different. I’ve known you half your life, and I care for you, you know. Please eat?”

“Hey, I’m sorry I kissed you. It just happened. Can we forget it? I didn’t mean anything.” I said as I bit into a muffin.

“What? No comment about eating my muffin.” She said with a smile.

God I loved to see her smile. She was so beautiful.

“I’m sorry Connie. I shouldn’t speak to you like that. I do respect you.”

“It’s fine, just don’t let our dad hear you. He might get the wrong idea. Speaking of your dad, he just called. He won’t make it in until tomorrow afternoon. He’s stuck at Dulles.”

“Of course he is. I know, it not his fault, but it always happens.”

“I know, it’s your eighteenth birthday, and your friends are probably planning some wild party, just promise me you’ll be home for dinner, please. Your dad said he wants to share a beer with his son. I’ll bake your favorite German chocolate cake for your birthday.”

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