As Monica bent forward to get ice from her freezer drawer, the rush of cold air stiffened her nipples. She pinched and twisted them until they jutted out prominently under the stretchy fabric of her body-hugging dress. She checked her reflection in the hall mirror, pressing her shiny lips together before she opened the door to the basement.
Sounds of teenage boys whooping and hollering resonated up the stairs. Light from the television flickered through the darkness, illuminating her path. Cool air caressed her bare skin, making it break out in goosebumps. The hemline of her dress edged up with each step and by the time she reached the bottom of the staircase the dress was barely covering her curvy ass cheeks.
In front of her, around ten boys from the high school basketball team were piled along the large sofa, intently watching a ball game on TV. Pizza boxes and bags of chips were scattered across the coffee table. The action on screen had concealed her approach, and none of the teens noticed Monica standing behind them until she spoke.
“Here’s some ice for those two liters of soda, boys.” She bent forward slightly, extending the tray in her hands and letting gravity expose more of her breasts.
Her stepson, Kevin, turned around, and his gaze fell immediately on her headlights. He smirked at her as he took the tray, and she gave him a wink. Kevin was in on her game.
His dad worked long hours, sometimes traveling out of town for two or three-week stretches. Monica was a stunning woman in her early 30s who had needs. So, she and Kevin had an agreement; Kevin didn’t mention Monica’s indiscretions to his dad, and she more or less left him alone to do as he pleased, provided his grades didn’t slip.
Monica had even helped convince Kevin’s dad to turn their basement into a prime hangout spot, with all of the gaming systems, a large HDTV, and a huge sectional sofa. This, combined with having a sexy stepmom that liked to flash her tits and ass, had done wonders for Kevin’s popularity.
“Thanks, Mon,” Kevin said to her cheerfully. More of the boys looked over their shoulders, smiling appreciatively and offering their thanks. The murmurs and second glances assured Monica that her tits had been noticed. A wave of heat swept through her pelvis.
“Do you boys need anything else?” She shifted her hips and brushed a lock of brown hair over her ear.
Kevin replied, “I think we’re good down here. Thanks, Monica!” An eruption of discordant ‘thank yous’ came from the other boys, their attention drawn back to the excitement of the televised game.
Kevin gave Monica a furtive smile, then his eyes darted over her shoulder for a fraction of a second. Thinking that he was subtly signaling her to go away, Monica pivoted on her heels, whipping her body around quickly, and crashing right into the captain of the basketball team, TJ Whitfield.
She fell against him, smashing her triple Ds into his broad chest and immediately bursting into giggles. He must have been in the bathroom when she came downstairs and had managed to stroll up behind her unnoticed.
“Whoa there, Ms. Farley!”
TJ caught her wrist and elbow and held her to his body for a second as she steadied herself. The 6’ 1” blonde smiled down at her with his sapphire eyes, and Monica felt her breath hitch. She laid her hands on his firm pecs, feeling his warmth and heartbeat.
“Oh, TJ, I’ve told you before, call me Monica,” she chortled.
He smelled like suede and pine, with hints of citrus. Monica’s temperature rose and a slickness coated her pussy. She had the urge to kiss him, hard and deep. She wanted to taste him and feel more of his body pressing against hers.
Suddenly remembering their surroundings and audience, Monica pushed herself back from the handsome teenager and smoothed her dress down over her curves.
“Sorry for bumping into you, TJ. I actually didn’t even know you were here.”
Though many of the younger boys on the basketball team were practically denizens of their basement, TJ was a rare visitor. The popular senior with his own car and a rich, pretty, cheerleader girlfriend likely had better things to do than hang out with underclassmen. The last time he’d been to the house was for the team’s Christmas party over six weeks ago.
“Oh, sorry. I came in there,” his eyes motioned to the basement’s exterior door. “Is that ok? Should I have come in the front door?”
His question seemed earnest enough, but the way he almost whispered it…
Had she imagined his inflection on the word ‘come’? Monica stifled a giggle and stared straight into his blue eyes.
“You can come in whichever door you like, TJ,” she replied breathily, only loud enough for him to hear. A smirk peeked at the corners of his mouth.
Monica glanced over toward the sofa to see that the boys were intently watching TV, not seeming to pay her and TJ any attention. Without saying another word, she brushed past him, grazing her fingernails along his bare arm, and she started up the stairs.
She could feel his gaze following her, his eyes lingering on her curves as she ascended. Halfway up the staircase she nudged her skirt up, exposing her luscious ass cheeks and the sparkly head of the plug nestled between them. Monica looked back at a stunned TJ and climbed the remaining stairs with a purposeful sway in her stride, feeling warm fluid seep over her slit.
Once on the other side, she leaned against the basement door, trying to regain her composure. She was perplexed by what had just happened. Seduction was Monica’s bailiwick. It wasn’t like her to get flustered by the opposite sex. She commanded the attention of horny, teen boys and cunning older men alike, finding delight in watching their physical reaction to her flirtations and the nervous efforts made to hide their erections.
Monica rarely felt a genuine desire for the males she teased. The thrill was in knowing that men wanted her but couldn’t have her. It titillated her, playing the temptress, always dancing just beyond their reach.
What Monica felt for TJ was something else: an animalistic, primal lust like she had not felt in a long while. Her body touching his, even through clothes, had felt electric. As she stood there trying to slow her pulse, the sound of a car engine roared to life outside. The throaty rumble left little doubt it was TJ’s Charger pulling out of the driveway.
Monica felt a simultaneous sense of relief and disappointment knowing he was gone. She smoothed her skirt down over her bum and strode back to the kitchen, feeling the jeweled plug wiggle with each step. As her long hair fluttered, a subtle hint of TJ’s cologne wafted up her nose, causing her nipples to tighten.
“Fuck,” she muttered aloud. The heat between her legs was becoming oppressive. She shifted her hips back and forth as she washed the few dishes at the bottom of the sink. Her mind wandered back to the handsome team captain. Her hips undulated unconsciously in figure 8s, rubbing her hardened clit against swollen folds, pulsing her needy cunt to move the metal butt plug.
Clean dishes drying on the rack, Monica wiped her hands with a towel and stilled her swaying hips. Momentarily, she thought about yelling down the basement stairs, but picked up her cell phone instead. She tapped out a text telling Kevin she was heading to bed and flicked the kitchen light off.
Noting how parched she felt, Monica grabbed a glass and filled it with ice and water. She took a long, slow gulp, feeling the frigid liquid run over her tongue and down her throat like snowmelt trickling along a dry creek bed. The guttural cooling sensation and the cold glass on her hand, such juxtaposition to the searing heat below, stiffened her nipples once more.
Desperate to satisfy the need building within her, Monica grabbed her phone and started toward her bedroom. Only steps away from her sanctuary, it occurred to her that the front door was still unlocked from accepting the pizza delivery.
A little sigh of frustration escaped her as she stood at the master’s threshold. From there, she roughly tossed her phone and watched it land with a thump on the middle of the bed. Quickly, she strode back down the hall to complete her task. The tops of her thighs clung together with each step, skin tacky with nectar leaching from her core.
She stopped abruptly at the front door, causing the ice to clink in her water glass. Her free hand flipped the porch light off and turned the heavy deadbolt lock. Its familiar sound was calming, like a gavel signaling the end of her day; both protecting and freeing her to go off and surrender to her own desires.
Monica was halfway back to the bedroom, thinking about which toys she was going to use to sate her burning lust, when a noise made her stop. She stood still in the hall, listening.
Tap-tap-tap.
What was that? The boys downstairs? The placement of the basement meant she rarely heard noises from this end of the house.
Tap-tap-tap.
It sounded closer than the basement. Monica moved back down the hallway and gazed into the foyer.
Tap-tap-tap. It was louder now. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
Goosebumps broke over Monica’s skin, and little hairs stood upon her arms and neck. The house had a doorbell, so it seemed odd to her that anyone should be rapping on the door like that.
Perhaps it's a parent, coming to fetch one of the boys in the basement. They usually called her before coming by though. Or just called the kid directly to say, “I’m here.”
Tap-tap-tap-knock-knock-knock-knock!!
The noise was most definitely from the front door, and the stranger grew more insistent. Monica turned the porch light on and peeked cautiously through the curtain. Outside, TJ Whitfield cocked his head and smiled at her through the window.
Senses heightened by her trepidation, a surge of adrenaline washed over Monica. Her racing pulse skipped a beat, making her feel light-headed. She turned the deadbolt and opened the door less than 10 inches.
“Hiya, TJ. Did you forget something?” The words stuck to her tongue, sounding like someone else had spoken them.
“Sort of,” TJ smiled wider, pushing the door open without any resistance.
Monica’s mind was spinning. Her nipples stood out like pebbles under her dress. The glass of water trembled in her hand. She was silent as TJ stepped into the house and closed the door.
His eyes never left hers as he reached behind himself and relocked the deadbolt. Standing only inches from her now, his piney musk invaded her nostrils, sending a shiver down her spine. TJ smirked knowingly.
“Wha-what did you forget?” Monica stuttered, trying to gain some composure. She clasped the glass of water with both hands before it could slip from her grasp.
“This.” TJ swooped in quickly and planted his lips right on Monica’s. Her slight gasp made it easy for his tongue to slip into her mouth. Monica kissed him back greedily, tangling her tongue with his. He sucked at her lips and she moaned involuntarily.
TJ’s hands found her waist, and Monica twitched, spilling ice water across both of their torsos. TJ inhaled sharply, stepping back from the sudden shock. Monica let out a shrill squeal and steadied the glass before it emptied entirely.
“Oh my,” she mumbled, glancing down at herself and then to TJ, who was chuckling. Their passionate spell broken by her fumble, Monica tried to get control of the situation.
“TJ--” she faltered. “TJ, we can’t do this. You’re a teenager and I’m married…” She trailed off, not even convincing herself. Married? Never stopped you before.
As she moved to set down the glass, TJ intercepted her like a guard on the court. He took the vessel from her, his smile widening and his blue eyes flashing mischievously as they trailed over her body.
“It’s just hard to take you seriously when you’re all wet.” His hand reached under her skirt, fingers pressing easily into her sodden cleft. He pushed his middle finger a little deeper and stroked forward over her sensitive nub, making Monica’s legs quiver and eyes flutter. She tried to stifle a moan emanating from her throat.
“Ohh, my god,” she purred. The skillful use of his long fingers was quickly eroding her resolve.
“You can’t deny how much you want it,” TJ said, sliding his fingers back and forth in her dripping pussy. “Or that you were asking for it.” His thumb caught the edge of the jeweled plug, and he strummed it hard, making her gasp. "The way you flash that T&A around...why can’t we have some fun together?”
Monica was trying to control her breathing and not grind into TJ’s hand. I am not going to fuck a teenager. “What about Kelly?” she asked feebly.
“What about her?” TJ rolled his eyes as his fingers kept probing Monica’s velvet folds.
“Isn't she your girlfriend?” Monica held his gaze.
“Isn’t Kevin’s dad your husband?” TJ countered boldly, rubbing a tight circle around her clit.
“Kelly is like most girls my age; they play all sexy, acting out stuff they see on TV and movies, but it’s all a show. Once you get them alone, they clam up and don’t want to do anything.”
Monica’s skin tingled all over, and her pulse buzzed in her ears.
“Besides,” TJ continued, “I think Kelly only dates me because I’m captain of the team. And because of my car.”
“Your car!” Monica burst out, her eyes widening. “The other boys will see your car is here and wonder where you are!”
“No, they won’t,” TJ grinned back at her, his hand still stroking her swollen lips. “I moved it over a couple of blocks and walked back here.”
“Ohh-aahhhh…” Monica started to reply but felt her words melt into a sigh as TJ pushed two long fingers deep into her slit. Her needy pussy clenched around them, begging for more.
“You’re running out of reasons to reject me, Monica.” He studied her face with his cool blue eyes as he drew his fingers in and out of her. “Be honest with yourself. You want this.”
He was right. Her body was an inferno. She was amazed she hadn’t climaxed right there in the foyer with the way his fingers were maneuvering. She hadn’t wanted, no, needed anyone this badly in years.
Realizing her hands were already lying on his chest, Monica leaned into him and their lips found each other again. He pressed closer, and she let a hand trail down his taut abs to the tent in his jeans. She massaged the hardness straining against the zipper, feeling his rigid heat twitch through the denim. He felt well endowed, and Monica wanted to see for herself.
She couldn’t deny the current surging between them any longer. Grasping the wrist at work between her legs, she locked eyes with the handsome teen and said, “Let’s move this to my bedroom.”
