Mom's New Boyfriend Came Over

They paused, I realized what I was doing, panicked, tip-toed to my room, and locked the door. I unlocked it the moment after -- with unconscious motives? No idea -- and laid down on my bed. The anxiety was unbearable, and my eyes teared up. It was all too much. This is messed up on every level.

I listened to the rest of their sex. Mom came several times. I was too upset to be horny, or at least too upset to keep acting on it. I felt like I had slept with a friend's partner. Really, I felt like I had slept with Mom's, but tried not to think about it. I also felt betrayed. Why would Mom do this with me in the house, with her bedroom door open? And why did that prick have to play with me and then have sex with my mother. I felt jealous. I wanted him. I felt terrible about everything. And I tried blaming him. I did blame him. I thought he was a bad person. A manipulator. One that gets in people's heads for entertainment's sake. He knew exactly what he was doing when he interacted with me, barely speaking, just looking at me like I worshipped him. Or did he? Am I making this up because I have a weird attraction to him? He never said anything even vaguely sexual to me. Maybe he acted like that with every person.

My mind oscillated between the alternatives --wants to fuck me; wants to fuck me not. I did not know. I was convinced however that he had noticed my strange behaviour. I had behaved so obviously around him. He must get it. My cheeks were burning when I stood next to him in the kitchen, and he was smirking. And if he was smirking, then he obviously likes me, right? Then again, what is he supposed to do? Tell me to stop being attracted to him? I just did not know. Anything. Anymore.

They eventually stopped, and I calmed down. I was still thinking about Jacob's smooth motions, about how he made women feel. His masculine groans when he grinded. His ass tensing up as he fucked. I just wanted to bite it. I imagined what his penis was like. I did look really thick, but it was dark.

I heard a door open down the hall. I focused my hearing. It was quiet in the house. I opened my door carefully and looked into the hall. I supposed one of them had gone to the bathroom. I hoped it was Jacob, and that he was naked, and that I would catch a glimpse of him walking back to Mom. After a couple of minutes of spying I heard the bathroom door open. I continued to peek in that direction. Mom emerged from behind the corner wearing a nightie and quickly walked back to her room, closing the door on her way in.

Before I could stop voyeuring, her door opened again. I pulled my head back into my room. I heard footsteps going to the bathroom. I looked again. I saw a flash of a naked Jacob disappearing behind the corner. I retreated, and heard my heart pumping again. I stood there, on the floor of my room, believing I was nearing insanity. I should go to bed and sleep it off, forget him and that tonight ever happened.

Then I had an idea, one that immediately prompted that intoxicating rush that had been driving me crazy all night. The warm vibration ran through my body, and I held in a gasp. My pussy tingled so amazingly. I heard the bathroom door open, and I began to move towards it, without any conscious thought at all.

When I turned the corner in the hallway, I saw Jacob at the other end of the corridor, walking right in my direction, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Our eyes met, and I stared at him with that same cocky look as before. He stared back lazily, and continued walking with his easy, leisurely step. Nothing about him changed a bit during the eternity that was passing within those few seconds.

I mentioned feeling weightless before. I suppose this was something similar to that. I was not the one controlling my body. He was. My feelings towards him were. I belonged to him, doing what I felt he wanted me to do. From the moment I heard him exit the bathroom, I felt as if he was moving me with his thoughts.

I looked at him with that light disdain that we use on guys we find sexy, implying they cannot have us, hoping they will try. I looked up and down at his tall strong body right as we were about to pass each other. He just stared at me with that heavy expression. It had the glimmering of a smirk in it that was so faint I was not sure it was even there. Like nothing was capable of affecting him, let alone I. We stared as we walked past one another. My breasts and butt perked up. My hard nipples poked the thin fabric of my top. With our heads turned after we had passed each other, I blatantly gave his body another lingering look, glanced at his eyes, and turned my head forward.

My body was ready for sex. I was on autopilot. I know that I have deliberately crossed the line in more ways than one, but I genuinely did not do any of that eye-fucking on purpose. I was not thinking. My autonomy had melted, and I was his. I did not turn back to see if he was still watching me. I was waiting for him to grab me by the hips from behind. He didn't. I entered the bathroom and felt more conflicted than I ever had. I was realizing how far this had gone. I was also hopeful that he would come join me any second. He never did, and so I went back to my room.

I laid wide-awake in my bed for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, hoping he would come in, before passing out from the mental and emotional fatigue that had been adding onto itself for the entire evening.

Third Time The...

My feelings had cycled since our last meeting. I was sporadically haunted by the idea of him not having been interested this entire time. It would be so thoroughly catastrophic for me and everyone else involved. Did I just dream up the signals he was giving me? And was I not only the stupidest, but the vilest daughter of all time for answering his non existent attractions? If so, then I would have to move in with my Dad. I tried seducing my Mom's unwitting partner for fuck's sake. Stalking him in the dark hallway, flaunting my tits as if he had never seen a pair.

The times I truly dug into that thought, I almost threw up from the embarrassment.

Yet, when alone in my room at night, and sometimes in class, and the line in the coffee shop, and when chilling with my friends, I would relive our exchange of looks, and know what it meant. Then the guilt would hit me, and the cycle repeat.

I got more and more numb to the emotional overload as the days passed. A week later Mom notified me that he was due to come over again later that evening, And the volume of my inner conflict of course got cranked up to its former scale.

My first reaction to the news was a happy tingle. And then the cringe started creeping in. I should hide in my room, and pretend to be sick. But then I won't know what he is thinking, whether he has said anything to Mom, or is clueless altogether. He may just think that I am weird. Flirting with him one day and hiding the other. And so on.

Periodically I would catch myself fantasizing about our coming hot dinner date tonight, before forcing myself to be realistic again --this is crazy and has to stop.

Mom yelled out to me from the staircase between the floors, letting me know dinner was ready.

He is here. Oh my God. Oh no. Already. Fuck. The skin on my arms and legs was vibrating, and a hot flush caressed my chest and knees. This situation is irredeemably deranged.

I was wearing black bell bottom jeans and a beige collared shirt. It took me days to decide on the pants, another to decide on the shirt, and one more to worry about the combination. A track suit might have told him off but also made it clear that I had lost my mind. A corsette may have been a tad too obvious. Booty shorts and a tight top would have been inappropriate. Looking as normal as I could was the best choice. That would conceal my thoughts and intentions. Hopefully it would rewrite history. Maybe everything would be fine afterall. Let's not openly show off, and let's not openly hide. Just be normal, Kitten.

I sat frozen at my desk for a minute before turning my brain off, jumping up, and heading downstairs.

My entire body tensed up when I saw him in the kitchen with Mom. The nervousness tickled me.

He looked at me, with that ubiquitous, unbothered face. I looked at him for a second and then looked away. Then looked back awkwardly, said hi, and looked away again. He said hey back, and asked me how I was. Fine, thanks, I said.

I fumbled with the kitchenware when setting the table. Mom and he made small talk. She asked him and me to sit down as she gave the final touches.

I sat there, too afraid to look up, pretending to do stuff with the things on the table.

Mom sat down a couple of minutes later, and started to make conversation. She was trying to involve both of us in it, and even worse, make us speak to each other.

Why now, Mom? Can't you just flirt with him in that almost exaggeratedly horny way that you did last time?

"Jacob's son goes to your school, Sweetie." Mom told me with that flirty energy she had been summoning all day.

Well, isn't that comforting. "Oh..." I replied. Quickly glancing at Jacob. He looked amused under that relaxed control of his. I wasn't, at all.

I looked at Mom, who now had that frisky smile on her face that I would have chuckled at under different circumstances. She looked right at him. I glanced at him again. He was looking at me. I glanced yet again, and he was still looking at me. A warm rush stroked me between the legs.

"Jay is a Senior, isn't he?" Mom asked him.

Holy shit. It's him. The surname. I had seen him at school. He was as much a younger version of his Dad as I was of my Mom.

"Yeah." he replied seriously, and then gave a cheeky smile. Mom giggled like a horny idiot again. Thank god. He took the razor-sharp edge off.

Mom left to powder her nose.

Oh god. I took a swift look in his direction. And then another. He was looking slightly downwards, at the air in front of the table. Unbothered. With a hint of amusement. Almost bored.

Then he slowly, drawing his gaze over my chest and neck, looked me in the eyes. I stared back, with that testy, dead expression. The heat weaved over my legs and pussy. I felt it tickling down there. Like he was teasing it with his tongue. My mouth opened slightly as I gasped for air as subtly as I could. We stared. For an eternity.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked in a soothing base, looking up and down at my lips and body.

"Nothing?" I muttered as if asking a question.

He watched me with perhaps a hint of fascination, measuring my body with his look, building up the tension.

"What about now?" he asked. With no amusement. With nothing but controlled libido. It was like I could see a live sex show behind his eyes.

Mom suddenly returned. I jumped from the scare. Flushed beyond recognition, I sat there squeezing my hands with my thighs, breathing with my mouth open. I was nervous for no reason, since Mom was definitely not paying attention to me.

I hung out for a while longer before excusing myself from the table, knowing I had attended for a polite enough period of time.

I sat down on my bed, fiddled with my hair, and hyperventilated a little.

He got me again. I started anticipating tonight's potential surprises. Would they leave their door open again? Should I do so with mine? What was he doing right now? How can I have him? I can't have him. But how and when can I? Because I have to.

Mom came to me later in her bathrobe and a wine glass in hand. "Hey baby what are you doing?" she asked me in a really good mood.

"Nothing. Going to bed."

"Jacob and I are going to take a hot bath." She bit her lip after filling me in on the important details.

"Right..." I answered, seriously grateful for the crucial information.

Mom gave a quick giggle. "Okay. Bye, my love. Sweet dreams." I waved her good night.

I stayed up, obviously. And I thought about sex with him. Trying to hear them in the spa room.

Eventually I heard them going to Mom's bedroom. I felt more hot by the moment. The thought of hearing him fuck. The thought of him fucking me.

I soon heard the familiar sounds. And they were louder than before. "Ahhh.. Ahhh.. Ahhh" Mom steadily cried out.

I didn't realize I was rubbing myself under my panties until my panting distracted me. Alright, I did realize I was. But I did not care. Not then. I had to indulge. And it was his fault.

I stealthily exited my room, and to the flourishing of my tingles, I saw Mom's bedroom door was slightly open.

Two steps into my journey, Mom suddenly screamed. Loudly.

I froze. And before I could gather the nerves to continue my walk, she started making noises like she was auditioning for the Hub.

It was just too much. I was not even what I would call nervous anymore. I was not afraid I would start to giggle and get caught, even though I could have. I was just baffled.Like, Mom...

The sound of bodies pounding into each other echoed in the dimly lit space. I went back into my room, left the door slightly open, and sat down. Hearing Mom in that state was bordering on ridiculous. And I could not help but wonder about my parents' marriage for a moment. I had never heard anything from their bedroom, let alone porn.

The feeling of absurdity quickly evaporated though, and I started thinking about him again, doing to me whatever he was doing to Mom.

I had been truly horny for a few guys before, so I knew what it meant to be deeply attracted to a man. Only it had never felt this strong or persistent. Not even close. I had never obsessed like this about anyone. He had never said anything especially impressive. He was handsome. Very. But so are a lot of guys. The thing about him was his certainty. He just knew, whatever it was he knew. There was never any hesitation in his expression. No questioning. No wondering. It felt in a way non human, like a movie character, slightly more refined than regular people, which makes them seem all the more real.

I sat on my computer chair and pictured him watching me in that way, taking me in, causing a flood of heat to run through my chest and over my cheeks, creating a vacuum in my stomach.

I stood up and hesitated for a moment, feeling a tad confused, shameful for quivering so delightfully at the thought of him, for arching my back and pressing my thighs together, afraid that my tingling pussy would make me moan otherwise.

I unbuttoned my shirt and took it off. My jammies were waiting on my bed. I hung the shirt over the backrest of the computer chair. I unbuckled and removed my bell bottoms, and laid them on the seat.

I wore a matching bra and panties. Black thong and pushup bra, with minimal lace, just enough to make them non sporty. I have always found simple underwear to be prettier than the kind that steals the show. It making you look good instead of distracting the observer with its own embellishments makes all the sense to me.

I worked my bra while walking aimlessly within a small area of the floor. I was thinking about him, as you probably guessed. I fiddled with the hooks and stared into nothingness, pacing around, imagining his face. It eventually hit me that my hands were doing nothing productive. I forced myself to concentrate for a second, unhooked the straps, and took my bra off. God, that felt good.

A creak emitted from the door that was straight to my left.

I instinctively covered my tits and turned to look.

He stood in the doorway, looking at me, with his royal confidence, his lips just barely parted, chin up, and with not quite a piercing gaze, instead it was relaxed, certain, like he knew what was about to happen, as if nothing could ever go wrong.

I stood and stared, with my mouth much more open than his, and my eyes wide like an alert kitten.

He walked towards me, slowly and steadily, briefly breaking eye contact as he took a casual look at my mostly exposed body. Although I had never been so stunned in my life, I was not nervous. I felt safe. I felt more than safe. I felt immortal. Time stopped, and I floated.

He stopped and stood right next to me, looking at my lips.

"Turn towards me." he muttered, deeply and quietly.

Without hesitation I did as he said, never adjusting my entranced face.

His expression may have implied he was thinking about something, it was hard to tell, maybe just a touch of curiosity in there. Yet, he was not questioning anything. Not a thing. His pulse cannot have been far above baseline, unless he routinely spent time being deceased.

He slowly brought his hands to my crossed arms. His touch felt like fire licking my skin. That fire travelled up, along my arms and shoulders, over my neck and cheeks, and down, caressing my breasts, grazing my belly, and gently warming my moistening pussy.

He guided my arms apart, and left them hanging to the sides. He raised his hand, placed his fingertips on my belly, and traced them upwards, between my tits, along the front of my neck, and my chin, to my lips. He put two fingers to my hanging lower lip and studied the sensation, then smoothly slipped them into my mouth. He lightly massaged my tongue, looking at me like it was always obvious that he would.

His fingers came out, and my mouth remained open, as did my eyes. Wide open. How they had not permanently dried out by this point is beyond me.

He put his hand on my breast, squeezed it lightly, and drew his fingers to my nipple. So delicately that he was barely touching it, he squeezed my nipple with the fingertips he had moistened with my tongue, and rubbed it softly. My open mouth opened wider as I took a deep breath. I was paralyzed, but not stiff. I could not move, nor did I care to. It was as if the only state available to me in this world was to stand there, completely still, since he had not told me to do otherwise.

"Did you enjoy watching me fuck?" His voice was gravelly and low, almost a whisper.

"Yes." I said, with a hushed voice, transfixed by his eyes, his voice, and his fingers gently rubbing my hard nipple, as the palm of his big, rough hand held up my breast slightly.

With his gaze meeting mine, he removed his hand from me, to his own mouth, and added to the lubrication. He smoothly went back to my breast, cupped it from underneath, and started running the moist tip of his middle finger in circles on my stiff and overstimulated nipple.

"Did you pleasure yourself to it?" His omnipresent voice, and a tinge of his masculine scent touched my senses as the same time. My pussy tingled so sweetly, as I felt the hot pool in my panties drip down my thighs and run up my butt.

"Yes." I spoke softly, now breathing heavier, with my nipple starting to hurt from the sensation.

"How did it feel?" His raspy voice echoed, as he removed himself from my nipple, and rolled his fingertip in circles around it instead.

"Good." I whispered, before gasping for air.

He put his vacant hand to my waistband, and seamlessly slipped it inside my panties. I held my breath. He slid his fingers delicately over my newly smoothened pubic region, and drew them over my sex. I must have looked like a caricature of shock. Still staring at him. With my face burning. The pleasure building up in my soaked pussy, on my nipples, and over my entire skin, was more intense than anything I had ever felt before, without any of the normally accompanying anxiety.

"Did you imagine me fucking you?" His relaxed look turned a little more serious, while keeping its cool, its complete control.

"Yeah." I whimpered.

He pressed his fingertips against my clit, and rubbed softly. "Did you touch yourself like this, to the thought of me?"

I drew a long wavering gasp from my pussy tingling so intensely my stomach hurt. "A-y-yes."

Suddenly he grabbed my waist with both hands, and drove me towards the bed that was behind me. The edge of the bed hit the back of my thighs, and I fell on it on my back.