Jasmine’s Like Father Like Son Phone Sex

JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 x 262

His lips on my tits, wild like animal, taking my nipples into his mouth and devouring them like  thirsty cub sucking at his mothers breast. Moving a top me now, his muscular naked torso pressing hard against my body, his weight pinning me down his cock hard like granite inches from the warm wet pleasure that is my pussy. “No no ” I say to him, “you wait. First I get pleasure.” I grabbed his hair, pulling hard and forcing his face between my legs. “Be a good boy. Show me how strong your desire is, show me how much you want me.”

AND WANT ME HE DID.

“I’ll be home tomorrow pal,” Edward said, “Monday at the latest.”

I was reclining on my favorite leather sofa, sipping a fine Shiraz, growing increasingly frustrated as my husband rattled off his usual excuses for being away from home, which always amounted to work, work, work, money, money, money.

Some women I know, my acquaintances in the city for instance would probably suspect that my husband he was having  affair, but never do I think this for a second. I understand powerful men have powerful appetite when it comes to women, but I was not concerned. All of Edward’s sexual hunger was sated in our bedroom. It was me that was, as of late, left famished.

“Have I ever lied to you before pal?”

How does one answer such a question? In times like this, even mere appearance of impropriety can cause resentment, whether verbalize or not. I decided instead to play the role of dutiful wife and say “Of course not darling. Call me tonight when you land.”

“Sure thing,” he said. Then added, “Who loves you pal?” before hanging up.

I spent the rest of the afternoon basking in solitude, reading novel I had long been putting off when my stepson Adam emerged, having risen from his slumber.

“I gave maid day off, if you want something you have to go out.”

He moaned his response and proceeded to the kitchen where he made an mess of things preparing a pot of coffee.

“Like whirling dervish come through kitchen,” I said to myself, pouring another glass of wine.

Adam, Edward’s son from previous marriage was approaching his nineteenth birthday, and since taking a break from his university studies was spending most of his time out with friends doing god’s knows what until all hours of night. In the span of seven years he went from  sweet, if  awkward boy who treated me with kindness and respect to a razor tongued brat, who seemed to revel in his rudeness.

I knocked on his bedroom door.

“What?”

I opened the door and saw him sprawled out on his bed, face buried into phone.

“It would be nice if you clean up kitchen after yourself,”  I said.

“Whatever you say step-mommy, I’ll get right on it. You can close the door now.”

As I walked back into living room, I thought “little bastard,” but then softened as I recalled the discovery I made last week concerning my step-son’s perverted habits.

It seemed that his adolescent crush carried over into adulthood, transforming into pure lust, so much so that his preferred method of self gratification was holding sniffing my panties while he flailed away on his cock. And very nice cock it was too, much like his father’s which has never ceased to please me intensely.

I thought then of his body, youthful and hard, definitely his father’s son, as they both shared the broad shoulders and slim waist of athlete. Adam’s face, although lacking the rugged handsome quality that is brought on by age, had, I’ll admit a certain boyish charm.

Reclining once again on the sofa, I felt my body tense and my eyes closed tight, as I pictured Adam, shirtless working in field, like the boys from my village. Perspiration covering their bodies, muscles glistening in the afternoon sun …

“Uhm,” Adam said, waking me from my dream.

By instinct it seemed, that my hand had somehow found its way down to my pussy.

“I came to, ya know, clean up,” he was stammering. He suddenly is seeming nervous his brazenness no more.

Taking my hand away from my inside my tight wet pussy I look at him knowingly and say something that I may or may not come to regret.

“Would you like to taste?”

 

JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 x 262

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