You sit in the passenger seat of your stepmoms car as she drives you home from summer break at college. It’s been a minute since you’ve seen your stepmom, Morgan. She looks different than you remember. Sadder, but also more attractive somehow. It’s weird you think, that this is the first time you’ve noticed her in that way.

So how’s school sweetie? *she says, shaking you out of your daydream.

She turns the car to your house and parks in the driveway. She glances over at you, a sad but hopeful smile on her face as she does so. Morgan reaches out to pat you gently on the shoulder. Even though it's not your dad that made you feel this way, there's a strange kind of comfort in knowing that someone who should be close to you understands what you're going through.

I hope things get better for you soon, hon. You know you can always talk to me if you need to. She smiles warmly at you and turns off the engine, getting out of the car. Morgan pauses by your door, leaning down to pat your knee before walking around to the trunk to retrieve your bag.

Let's get you inside, okay? It'll be good to have you home again. *Her words and tone feel genuinely sweet and mother

*You follow your stepmom into the house as she leads you down the hallway to your old room. Your dad never bothered to change the decorations when they got married, so it still looks just like it did when you lived here before college. Morgan glances over at you as you take in the familiar surroundings, noticing how...different everything seems now that you're older.

She closes the door behind her and turns to face you, leaning against the wall beside it with one hip cocked out suggestively. Her brunette hair falls over her shoulders, framing her delicate features. Morgan bites her bottom lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking*

I've missed you so much, hon. You have no idea how lonely I've been since...well, since you left.

*Her eyes well up with tears as she responds. She takes a deep breath before continuing, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just...your father and I, we don't have that spark anymore." Her fingers fidget nervously at her sides, and she glances down at the floor before meeting your eyes again.

"I know it's wrong...but sometimes I wish..." She pauses, swallowing hard. "Sometimes I wish you were my boyfriend instead." The words come out in a rush, and she looks away, ashamed of herself for admitting such a thing to you. Her cheeks flush hotly with embarrassment, but there's an undeniable truth behind her confession that leaves you feeling unsettled*

Her words pour out unbidden, a torrent of emotion and need that she has bottled up inside for too long. "You're so...grown up now, and handsome," she says with a tiny smile, her voice barely above a whisper. "I remember when you were just a little boy, but even then..." She trails off, biting her lip before continuing in a rush: "Whenever we hugged, or I tucked you into bed...it felt different with you."

Tears slip down her cheeks unheeded as she finally allows herself to speak the truth that's been buried deep inside of her for so long. "I just...I wanted you to notice me, want me too," she whispers hoarsely, feeling a shudder run through her body at the admission.

Her gaze flickers downward, taking in your reactions before slowly raising back up to meet yours. There's a glimmer of hope in her eyes, and perhaps even an ounce of courage now that she's finally given voice to these feelings. "I know it's wrong, but...I can't help how I feel."

Her eyes widen with surprise and hope at your offer before her face contorts into an expression that's equal parts pleasure and guilt. "I-I don't know..." she stammers, struggling to process what you just said. A trembling smile slowly spreads across her lips as she shakes her head, as if to clear it of the sudden fog of desire that's crept in.

She takes a tentative step forward, lifting a hand to lightly touch your cheek before tangling her fingers in your hair. "You really don't have any idea what you're offering," she whispers, barely above a breath. "But...maybe there is something we could do..." Her voice trails off again as desire swirls within her like a stormy sea.

She closes her eyes and leans into your touch, savoring the warmth of your hand in her hair. "Perhaps..." she starts slowly, hesitantly at first but then gathering confidence with each word, "maybe we could...spend some time together. Just the two of us." Her cheeks flush again as she continues, "Maybe you could help me forget how lonely I've been, and maybe...just maybe, we could make each other feel better."

There it is: the admission that Morgan has longed to give voice to, but never dared hope would actually come out. Her fingers tighten in your hair almost imperceptibly as she waits for your response, her heart racing with fear and excitement at the possibility of what could happen next.

Her eyes fly open wide and she pulls back, hissing in surprise. "Wh-what did you just say?" her voice comes out strangled with shock and confusion. It's not what she expected to hear from you, and for a moment, all of her earlier desire vanishes, replaced by anger and hurt.

"Of course I didn't mean that," she snaps, though the wavering tone in her voice betrays her uncertainly. "I just meant...maybe we could..." Her words trail off as she struggles to find the right thing to say, torn between the desire she feels and the anger at what you just suggested.

You've shocked her, hurt her feelings. Of course she wants you to touch her, to make her feel better the way only you can do. But now that you've brought up this...inappropriate suggestion, it makes things complicated. Morgan takes a deep breath and composes herself as best she can before speaking again.

"I'm sorry," she says softly. "That was...insensitive of me. I shouldn't have assumed..." She bites her lip, struggling to find the right words as anger gives way to guilt and desire once more. "Look, let's just take things slow, okay?"

Her gaze drops back down to your chest before slowly rising again, the unspoken invitation still clear in her eyes. She hopes you can understand what she's trying to say: that even though she wishes things could be different between them, for now at least they have this...

She freezes at your words, uncertainty and fear giving way to anger and embarrassment. "How dare you!" she spits, her voice shaking with emotion. "You have no idea what you're talking about! I am not some kind of whore for you to...to objectify like that!" She takes a step back from you, struggling to keep herself under control as tears begin to well up in her eyes once more.

"I am your stepmother," she says through gritted teeth, "and I expect you to show me respect! I will not be treated this way, by you or anyone else!" Her voice cracks on the last word, and she turns away from you, struggling to regain her composure as anger courses through her veins.

The fact that she finds your words arousing only serves to further enrage her. How dare he use his cock against her like this? It isn'

She gasps as your lips press against hers, surprise and anger giving way to something hotter, more primal. Her arms wrap around your neck as she kisses you back hungrily, her tongue darting out to seek contact with yours. The taste of you fills her mouth and drives her even further over the edge, making it impossible for her to resist any longer.

With a small moan, Morgan pushes herself against you, arching her back as she grinds her hips against your growing erection. Her desire for you is all-consuming, and she wants nothing more than to feel you inside of her, filling her up with your love. She doesn't care that it's wrong; right now, she just needs you.

She shudders with delight as you begin to undress her, biting her lip in anticipation of being bared before you. Her braless breasts spring free from their confinement and jiggle enticingly; the feel of your hot breath against her nipples sends a shiver down her spine.

The carpet beneath them provides little friction, but Morgan hardly minds as she arches her back further, offering herself up to you like a sacrifice. Her fingers fumble with the button and zipper of your pants before grasping your hardness, guiding it toward her aching entrance. "Please," she whispers hoarsely, "fill me."