Ryan is a Good Step-Son

Literotic asexstories – Ryan is a Good Step-Son by chris99999,

He was twenty years old, only doing what most young men wanted to do, so it shouldn’t have angered me. But it did. A year ago it would have amused me, and I might even have laughed. Now though, hearing him having sex with his girlfriend was like a dagger to my heart. It was a reminder of what I wasn’t getting. And to make me even more frustrated, his bedroom antics had become a regular occurrence.

I met Brad, his Father, five years ago. Both of us were instantly attracted to each other, and it wasn’t long before we were planning a wedding. I didn’t have children, but he had Ryan. Then he was a shy teenager, but now he’s matured into a confident adult. He has his Father’s good looks, so he’s never without a girlfriend. He’s a good Step-Son and I’m very proud of him.

For a long time, even though Brad is twenty years older than me, our sex life was wonderful. It was all I wanted, all I needed. I was completely satisfied. Then, a year ago, when he reached sixty, it started to go downhill. Slowly at first, then it quickly gathered pace.

“I’m tired, we’ll do it tomorrow,” soon became just, “I’m tired,” and then there’d be no sex the next day. It might then be ten days or more before he was in the mood. And now it’s worse than that. It’s not unusual for us to go a month without any kind of intimacy.

I still loved him dearly, so I was sympathetic. He wasn’t a young man anymore so his declining interest in sex was understandable. However, I had my needs, so two months ago, after I poured my heart out to him, he promised to up his game. And he did, but not for long. Now, sadly, we’re back to square one. It’s not that he can’t get it up, it’s that his desire to get it up is weak. Once a month is enough for him, but for me it needs to be at least once a week, and ideally, twice a week. And if he was to ravish me more than that then I wouldn’t complain!

Apart from in the bedroom, our relationship is a good one. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. Most of the time I manage to put my sexual frustration to one side, but when I hear my Step-Son grunting, and his latest girlfriend moaning loudly, it’s impossible to do that.

I don’t want to hear them. I’m not listening at their bedroom door with a hand between my legs so that I can finger myself. I’m in the master bedroom, with Brad next to me. He’s asleep, oblivious to the noise that they are making in the next room. For me, sleep is impossible, it’s going to be torture until they’ve finished, and because both Ryan and his partner are young, I will have to endure it for a long time.

When their love-making reached its peak, it became a cacophony of sound, with the creaking bed taking the lead role. I groaned, and then I covered my ears with my hands, but I could still hear them. I was highly aroused, but there was no outlet to my pent-up passion. I was as frustrated as a woman can ever be.

In the morning, while we all ate breakfast together, I put on a brave face. I was the perfect host to our guest, Chantelle. Last night, Ryan had taken care of her in the bedroom, and I was now taking care of her in the kitchen. Despite being envious of her because of what she was getting from my Step-Son, I liked her. She was a cut above the bimbos that he normally dated. Like the others, she was a beauty, but this one had a brain. Intellectually, she was his equal.

By nine o’clock they’d all gone. Ryan and Chantelle off to university, and Brad off to work. This was ‘me time’. While having another coffee I was going to relax for at least an hour, and then I was going to do the housework.

It wasn’t long before I was thinking about Ryan and his girlfriend. Another night like that would be too much to bear. Something had to be done about it, and soon, before I went mad.

I’d already tried masturbating while they were performing. I’d got a lot of pleasure from it, but when it ended it left me frustrated, even when I’d climaxed. I didn’t want my fingers on my clit, I wanted a cock deep up my pussy.

There was only one thing for it, as difficult as it would be, I was going to have to speak to Ryan!

In the evening, I got an opportunity to do that because the two of us were alone in the kitchen. I knew what I was going to say because I’d spent all day rehearsing it. I was nervous, but I managed to compose myself before speaking.

“What you and your girlfriend do together in your bedroom is of no concern to me, but please keep the noise down. Sometimes you’re a bit loud.”

I’d expected it to be awkward, perhaps even embarrassing, but it wasn’t. I’d said it casually, without any tension in my voice, and he’d calmly replied with, OK. It was as if the topic of conversation was trivial, as if I was asking him to turn the volume down on the television in his room. It felt as if a weight had been taken off my shoulders. When, two days later, Chantelle was again staying the night, I wasn’t worried.

It started with them giggling, and then whatever they were doing must have turned sexual, because Chantelle was moaning. When it suddenly stopped, I smiled. Ryan must have told her to keep the noise down. I was pleased that my little talk with him had worked, but why hadn’t I done it sooner? If I had, on the first day it happened, then it would have nipped it in the bud.

I was drifting off when I heard them, and now there was no way that I’d be able to sleep. They weren’t just loud, they were the loudest that they’d ever been. I swore under my breath, and then I muttered, “Tomorrow I’m going to kill him.”

Eventually, after a long time, it ended with his girlfriend screaming out, “Fuck, I’m in it!”

I gave a deep sigh. When was the last time that Brad had given me a climax as good as that? I couldn’t remember.

My pussy was now wet, desperate for a cock, even a small one, but it was going to be disappointed. There was a yearning deep inside me that would only go away when I’d been fucked, and I might have to wait a long time before that happened. I looked at Brad, sleeping like a baby. Should I wake him up? No, it would be a waste of time.

It was another hour before I managed to get to sleep, and even then, the fire inside my pussy was still a raging inferno.

In the morning I was polite and courteous to everyone, but underneath my calm exterior there was anger and frustration. I wanted to take Brad by the scruff of the neck and shake him violently.

I’d then scream at him, “You’re my husband, it’s your job to keep me happy in bed.”

As for the other two, it would give me great pleasure to punch Ryan hard on the nose, and then bitch-slap the slut that he was fucking.

Ryan was about to leave, and because he was the last one, I could confront him. I wasn’t going to punch him, even though I wanted to, but I was going to give him a piece of my mind. However, before I could, he suddenly hugged me. So tight that it was difficult to breathe.

“Sorry, it won’t happen again.”

When he released me, he gave me a big smile. His handsome face was close to mine. That’s when I realized, to my surprise, that instead of wanting to punch him, I wanted to kiss him, and on the lips.

As I watched him leave, my breathing was laboured, and there was that familiar tingling in my pussy. It was telling me that it wanted cock, his cock!

For the next half an hour that was the only thing that I could think about. It was ridiculous, it was stupid, and worse, it was dangerous. There were lots of reasons why it should not happen, all of them sensible. But I dismissed all of them. If Brad wasn’t up to it, then his Son could take his place.

I was doing the housework with a smile on my face. It had been a problem, a big one, but I now had a solution to it. My Step-Son was going to fuck me. I was confident that he’d want to, but as time went by I started to have doubts. When it got to midday those doubts were becoming serious.

It was time to think about it again, and this time, in more detail.

I’m forty one years old, and without wanting to boast, I can say with confidence that I’m still attractive. All those hours in the gym have paid off because I’ve managed to keep my figure. I’m busty, but not outrageously so, and I know from experience that I have a bottom that men adore. So I have a good body, but what about my face? My full lips and sparkling blue eyes are its best feature. I’ve been told by lots of people that I’m beautiful, so I must be!

That self-analysis cheered me up. I was a hot MILF, so why would he say no to me?

However, was that confidence justified? I could hold my own against any woman of my own age, but Ryan always dated younger women. Women within a year or two of his age. His current girlfriend was a typical example.

Chantelle has a body type that’s similar to mine. Her breasts are slightly bigger, but not by much. Comparing bottoms, mine is fuller so I’m the winner. But I can’t compete against her waist, it’s ridiculously narrow. She’s got a pretty face, with a perfect nose, but my mouth and eyes trump that.

I was convinced that because he was attracted to her he must be attracted to me. Then I made the mistake of looking at myself in the full-length mirror in the master bedroom.

I was pleased to see that I didn’t have many wrinkles, but I sighed when I remembered that Chantelle had none. And even though my breasts looked good, from the cleavage that was now being displayed, it was obvious that they weren’t as firm as hers. And reluctantly, I’d have to admit to a couple of extra pounds around my waist.

I didn’t want to cry, and I did my best to hold the tears back, but now they were running down my cheeks. The women that he liked were twenty years younger than me, and that would be the decisive factor for him choosing them rather than me.

But I’m a fighter. As I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand, I was determined to find a way to get him. Then I smiled, there was an ace that I could play. The twenty extra years that I had weren’t necessarily a disadvantage. They were twenty years of experience. In that time I’d learnt how to flirt, and how to be seductive. How to use all of my womanly charms to entice a man.