Learning With Lou - Part 1 free porn video

I wasn’t a virgin when I met Colin, the man who went on to be my husband but I might as well have been. My sex life up till then had been sparse, to say the least. At twenty-five, the number of sex partners in my life could be counted on one hand and still have room for the number of orgasms I had experienced.

My mother always said I was far too picky. That might have been true but my rather chubby body hadn’t attracted a great many men for me to be picky about.

Fortunately, meeting Colin changed all that. A good ten years older than me and with a son already in his teens, he was my boss at the office where I worked as a Personal Assistant. Quite good looking, divorced, mature and reliable, he had taken me under his wing and had helped me grow up both professionally and personally for a couple of years before he eventually seduced me and we became an ‘item’.

This fateful event took place during a large conference held by one of our most important customers. Colin and I had been part of a group from our business that had attended. After one of the evening sessions, we had all had a few too many after-dinner drinks in the bar then gone on to plan the following day’s activities and… well, suffice it to say that I had woken the following morning naked in his bed.

That’s not to say that I was an easy lay; far from it. When Colin’s erect penis first penetrated my body he joined a very select group of men and I’m sure my inexperience showed clearly. I had of course been flattered by his unexpected attention and had been ridiculously naive too so had been ill-equipped to withstand the seductive onslaught of an older, more worldly-wise man.

Fortunately, he was also a man with morals; rather than simply dumping me after our one-night-stand, we started a relationship which blossomed quickly into genuine romance. Of course, this romance required us to spend a lot of time in bed together so as my confidence as a woman improved, so did my proficiency as a lover and to begin with, our sex life was very active, adventurous and fulfilling.

Colin and I were married nine months later, much to my mother’s relief in a quiet ceremony in the local registry office. My mother would have preferred a big church affair and a younger, less divorced partner for her only daughter but Colin managed to charm her and my two older brothers as effectively as he had charmed me and we became a happy extended family.

My new husband’s ex-wife Cindy had effectively broken off all communication with him. Bitter about the divorce – although according to Colin it was she who had been unfaithful several times - she now lived with his teenage son Richie over four hundred miles away in Scotland and had definitely not been invited to the ceremony.

Although there were plenty of photographs of his son around the house, there were none at all of his ex-wife and Colin was very reluctant to talk about her so I didn’t ask many questions. His mother suffered no such reticence; according to her Cindy had ‘gone crazy’ when Colin had thrown her out of the house and commenced divorce proceedings after her third rather public affair. She had pleaded for him to take her back then, when he refused, had harassed and stalked him until finally he had been forced to get a Court Order to keep her away from both him and their house.

Unfortunately for my husband, this hadn’t changed the ruling on custody so their son Richie still lived with his mother and hadn’t even seen his father for a long time. He hadn’t even replied to the invitation to our wedding so to our joint relief, the day was unencumbered by the ‘baggage’ of Colin’s previous life.

Life as a newly-wed was wonderful, living together in Colin’s large, four-bedroom house – our house I should say – and growing closer every day. I was promoted and transferred to a different department at work which made life easier too both in terms of money and of course, not being my husband’s PA anymore.

At first, our sex life soared; becoming more adventurous and energetic by the week but that intensity couldn’t last and like so many couples, by the end of our first year of marriage, bed was in danger of becoming a bit dull and routine.

In contrast, now we were officially a couple, our social life had really blossomed. Successful couples like to mix with other successful couples so by our first wedding anniversary we were an established part of the social scene in our town.

An obligatory part of ‘fitting in’ was membership of the local Sports Club where members and their families could play tennis, swim, use the extensive gym or go to exercise classes. I quickly grew to love all of these but especially the exercise classes where I could work out and have coffee with friends afterwards.

The truth was that neither Colin nor I were very happy with our bodies, especially now we saw each other naked every day. My bottom had always been larger than it should have been and my tummy could have been a lot flatter. Being so much older than me, Colin had to work harder to stay fit so we promised each other we would stick to our goals and, after few false starts, it began to work.

Within three months I had dropped a dress size and was well on my way to dropping another one; Colin had toned up nicely with a firm, flat stomach and strong, well-shaped shoulders and arms. I felt more confident wearing shorter, tighter clothes; my husband wore close-fitting polo shirts and chinos; we both spent more time in the club’s pool. I even felt happy in a bikini for the first time in my life.

The effect on our sex life was profound too. More confident in my body I became much more confident in bed which made my husband very happy indeed. We tried new positions and new locations; we even began to introduce fantasies into our lovemaking, talking about anything from swinging to swapping to me cheating with strangers… Anything that felt right at the time; nothing that was remotely serious.

It was in one of my exercise classes that I first met Lou, a smart, slim, well dressed and well-toned brunette a good ten years older than me. During a ‘spinning’ class, she had been on the bike next to mine. We had exchanged looks of exhaustion and appreciation of the class leader throughout the session so it was only natural that we should have a coffee and a chat in the club’s café afterwards.

The two of us hit it off straight away; we had so much in common but I was running a dozen years behind her. She too had married an older man with a teenage son; she too had been a late starter; she too had been unhappy with her body most of her life and, now divorced, was now trying to get into shape for what she hoped might still be the love of her life – if she could find him.

In an attempt to achieve the perfect body – or as close to it as a woman her age could manage – she was always on the look-out for new ideas, fads and short-cuts. She had tried every diet plan I had heard of and many I hadn’t; she used personal trainers, therapists and counsellors; she had endured interferences from laser eye surgery to colonic irrigation.

Some things had worked; most hadn’t but this lack of success seemed merely to convince her to look harder and in more places.

Though no longer married she, her ex-husband and stepson had lived as a family for over ten years. It was only once the son had left home in his twenties and her husband had decided to ‘trade his older wife in for a younger model’ that things had gone badly wrong. They had separated then split permanently. Fortunately, she said, the settlement had been rather generous hence her ability to move to our town and start life again.

I found Lou to be a bright, cheerful companion and after a second coffee, we agreed to meet in town and do a bit of shopping together that Saturday afternoon.

We quickly became firm friends.

For the next six months, life was good. I dropped that second dress size and with Lou’s guidance, began to dress in a way that, she said, was more appropriate for my age and flattered my new figure. Skirts became shorter still, heels a little higher, tops a little tighter even occasionally allowing a little of my new, toned tummy to be seen. Even leggings made a first appearance in my wardrobe.

Colin was very pleased with the ‘new me’ but did on occasion have to advise me to dress a little more conservatively if we were going to a more formal social or work event. He himself had been promoted twice and was now very senior in the firm which kept him at work for longer. This gave me the opportunity to spend more time in the gym and, thanks to his increased income, to reduce my own working hours and spend more time shopping.

But it wasn’t all good news. The extra hours of Colin’s work and the tiredness they produced inevitably put a strain on our sex life which sadly, after months of increased excitement became rather dull again.

“It’s normal, Linda,” Lou assured me over a third glass of chardonnay, perched on bar stools in our favourite wine bar one Thursday night. “These things change. Sometimes you feel up, the next moment you’re down. My sex life, for instance; it’s always been up and down.”

I exploded into laughter, spilling white wine down my overly short skirt and onto my bare thighs. Realising what she had just said, Lou fell into fits of giggles too.

“It’s true, though,” she eventually continued when we had both recovered our breath. “It will probably come back. You just need a bit of stimulus to help things along.”

She didn’t go on to explain what that stimulus might be so instead I tried a different tack.

“How about you?” I asked.

Lou had never mentioned having a regular man in her life. She had told me about her online dating experiences; it was enough to put me off men forever but she seemed prepared to persevere. No man she had met had been worth introducing to me yet but I wasn’t so sure none had been worth having sex with.

Occasionally I wondered what my friend would be like in bed. She was so energetic and adventurous in all other aspects of her life, it was inconceivable she would be anything but an active and demanding lover.

“Me?” she replied disingenuously.

I gave her a disbelieving look.

“How’s your love life going? Any prospects on the horizon?”

Lou thought for a moment then frowned.

“My love life? Its’ become a bit mechanical these days.”

I wondered how this could be; surely you needed a long term partner for sex to become so dull – as my own had now become.

“Mechanical?” I asked innocently.

There was a bright twinkle in her eyes as she drained the bottle into our glasses and looked directly at me.

“I mean Linda, these days I mostly have sex with machines!”

It was a full five minutes before I could speak properly. God alone knows what the bar’s other clients thought of the pair of us.

*

“I thought he’d broken off all contact with you.”

My husband and I were having dinner at home the following week. Colin had just opened a letter that had arrived during the day and which had shocked both of us.

It had been from his son – my stepson, Richie – who was now eighteen and apparently about to start college in the town where we lived. He had written to his father out of the blue asking if he could come and live with us for a few days while he settled into the area and found somewhere to live.

“I thought he had cut us off too,” Colin said astounded. “This is a complete surprise.”

It looked it. Although he had always put on a brave face, I knew how much being denied contact with his only son had hurt my husband. Cindy was apparently a very bright woman and had been very adept at exploiting the subtle differences between English and Scottish law, thereby avoiding all attempts at forcing contact legally.

But now he was eighteen, Richie couldn’t be prevented from contacting his father wherever he lived and had done so very soon after his birthday. My husband was happier than I had seen him in a long time.

“Would you mind if he stayed a few days?” Colin asked me uncertainly.

I thought for a few minutes. In truth, now things were going so well the last thing our marriage needed was a spotty teenage boy throwing a spanner in the works but the look on my husband’s face tore at my heart.

“He can stay as long as he wants,” I agreed more cheerfully than I felt. “He’s your son so he’s part of our family.”

“You really mean that?” he asked, as if unable to believe his ears.

“Of course. He’s welcome anytime.”

*

“Well, you’ll have to be a lot more careful around the house,” Lou advised seriously.

We were having coffee in the Sports Club the following Saturday. I had just told her about my stepson’s impending arrival; to my surprise, she seemed quite concerned.

“What do you mean?” I asked naively.

She gave me a ‘don’t be stupid’ look.

“You’re a very good-looking girl and much closer in age to him than you are to your husband. His eyes will be all over you. Trust me, I know from experience.”

“What do you mean?”

“My husband’s son was about the same age when we started living together.”

“What happened?”

“Just be careful, that’s all!”

And that was all Lou would say on the matter.

*

A few weeks later, Richie arrived by train just before five o’clock on Friday afternoon.

My husband predictably was at work. Thanks to the boy’s mother being almost totally uncooperative with her ex-husband, the only pictures of him that we had in the house were well over five years old so I didn’t immediately recognise the tall, fit-looking boy I found standing on the porch when I opened the door.

“Mrs… um, Linda?” he asked, equally nonplussed and embarrassed.

“Richie?” I smiled, trying to hide my lack of recognition.

The boy smiled and nodded and I let him into the house. My stepson Richie simply towered above me, his shoulders and arms even better developed than his father’s, his tummy equally flat, his legs thick and strong.

But on his undeniably handsome face was the look of a child still, as if his body had gone ahead and developed itself without his mind having anything to do with it. The longer I looked at that face, the more I persuaded myself I could see his father’s presence but I have to confess it wasn’t immediately obvious.

I took him through to the kitchen and offered him a drink. He chose Diet Coke which of course we had in abundance. I took one for myself and we started to talk.

It was awkward at first; very awkward.

How had his journey been? Long but okay.

Was he looking forward to his course? Yes, very much.

What exactly was he going to study? Maths and Economics.

Did he want to follow in his father’s footsteps and go into business? It’s too early to say; he really didn’t know his Dad at all.

What was he into outside of work?

At this point Richie became animated. He was, he told me, very keen on martial arts and was training for the national championships in a few months’ time. He wanted to join a local club straight away and hoped I would be able to recommend a gym in which he could train.

At last, we were on safe ground. I told him all about the Sports Club to which so many of my friends belonged. The facilities really were excellent and, as his father’s son, he could get in on the back of our membership. This brought a smile to Richie’s face that spoke volumes; however mature his body might have been on the outside, my Stepson was still a teenage boy inside.

Indeed Richie had proved this throughout our conversation in that he seemed to have severe difficulty tearing his eyes away from my gym-clothed body. From the look on his face it was more in admiration than in lust so I didn’t take offence; rather it made me feel better about myself than I had in some time.

Still, I was relieved when we began to deal with some of the more practical issues.

What should he call me? Mum? Stepmum? We settled on Linda.

How much should he pay for his keep out of his student loan? Nothing; he was family and was very welcome.

Could he help out by doing work or jobs around the house? Maybe, but his studies must come first.

What I really wanted to ask was lots of detail about his mother, my husband’s ex-wife. In particular, I wanted to know why she had kept father and son apart for so very long. There were no photos of Cindy in the house, not even hidden in albums but from what my husband had said, she had been an attractive woman - if an unfaithful one.

It seemed Richie had inherited good looks from both his parents.

It was extraordinary to witness the reunion of father and son that evening when Colin came home from work. The emotions on both sides were high but it took a long time before they were able to relax enough to do more than just shake hands. At the first hug, I discreetly left them alone to get re-acquainted and began to cook the meal.

Over dinner the two of them talked animatedly, Colin clearly getting as up to date as he possibly could on his son’s hidden past. I did notice that both men avoided almost any reference to my husband’s ex-wife and I thanked God for their common sense. It might be possible for them to go down that road eventually but it was certainly not a good idea for a first meeting.

They talked happily late into the night, drinking beer out of bottles; I left them to it and went to bed alone around ten-thirty.

*

When I got up early the following morning I was surprised to find Richie already awake and dressed in his running kit. Colin had gone early to work. We had talked briefly in the bedroom; he was clearly on cloud nine, having his son back under his roof and I was really pleased to see him so happy.

I hadn’t been expecting to meet anyone in the kitchen so had come downstairs in my night-gown and bathrobe, neither of which covered my body very well. My first reaction at finding a tall, extremely good-looking eighteen-year-old boy in my house had been one of surprise followed by embarrassment but I could hardly just turn and run away so holding my gown around my chest, Richie and I had to make small talk for a while.

Once the initial embarrassment was over – on both sides it seemed – I was pleased just how easy he was to talk to. His evening’s rapprochement with his Dad had done him a great deal of good; he stood a little taller and had a new confidence about him that I found positive but if I’m honest, disturbingly attractive.

Despite this, Richie still showed his youth by addressing at least half of our conversation to my boobs and the other half to my bare legs. It made me feel a little awkward until I realised how intimidated he seemed to be by the sight of my body.

“I was going to go for a run,” he eventually told me when I mentioned that he was up rather early for a student. “I usually go every morning.”

“Do you go far?” I asked, interested.

“About five or ten kilometres, depending on how I’m feeling and whether I’m competing soon,” he replied. “Do you run?”

This was about the distance I used to run on the Sports Club’s treadmill. I doubted I could keep up his pace so I played my abilities down a bit.

“It’s about my usual distance,” I told him. “I don’t go as often at that but…”

His face lit up.

“Do you want to come with me now? It’d really help – I don’t know my way around here at all.”

It seemed a good idea; the sun was warming up, the day was bright; I had enough time before going to work.

“Sure,” I grinned. “I’ll go and get changed.”

*

“I’m sure you’re going easy on me,” I panted as we paused by the lake, half way through our run.

“Not at all; you’re getting faster every time,” Richie grinned, passing me the water bottle.

I took a long sip, then another, my chest heaving under my lycra running top.

A month had passed since Richie had moved in with us and so far, things were going well. His relationship with his father had become less intense and was all the better for it, his relationship with me was beginning to blossom.

I had always been anxious about how my stepson would treat me having lived with his mother for so long. Cindy would have had plenty of time to pass on any biased, one-sided views of their broken marriage that she might have had which could have made his and my relationship very difficult indeed.

To my considerable relief, this didn’t seem to have happened. Richie appeared to have a balanced view of the reasons behind his parents’ split; reasons in which I didn’t even feature. He and I seemed to get on well from the start, our joint love of exercise giving us an important shared interest which threw us together often.

The run we were half way through was one that we had done many times before and would do many times again, usually first thing in the morning after Colin had gone to work at his usual early hour and before I went to my work and Richie went to college.

With the added incentive of having a young, extremely attractive stepson to impress and motivate me, my running was improving in leaps and bounds.

“Not bad for an old woman, eh?” I joked, handing the bottle back and watching him drink heavily.

Richie gave me a strange look as if about to say something important, then seemed to think better of it and grinned.

“Let’s see how old you feel when you’ve run back home. We’re going via the hill this time!”

“You’re too hard on me!” I protested feebly.

The two of us set off along the waterside path.

*

“You’re bothered about something, aren’t you?” Lou stated firmly.

It was three weeks later and we were sipping over-sized coffees in the Sports Club bar after a Saturday morning spinning class.

“It’s nothing,” I shrugged.

“Come on. You can tell Auntie Lou,” she grinned.

“It’s embarrassing. And I’m not even sure there’s a problem,” I protested.

“Is it Colin?” she probed. I shook my head.

“No… at least he’s only a part of it.”

“Well you’ve got to tell me now,” Lou frowned. “You can’t say something like that and just leave it there!”

I frowned too. Lou was right; something had been bothering me and that morning it had bothered me more than ever. I looked around; the bar was almost empty so we couldn’t be overheard so I leaned closer to my good friend and whispered.

"I think Richie is touching me!”

“Touching you?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Touching me accidentally. But I think it’s on purpose!"

Lou sat back in her seat with a knowing look on her face.

“What a surprise,” she replied ironically. “I seem to remember warning you to watch out for that sort of thing. Tell me what happened.”

This wasn’t quite the response I had expected but the whole thing was bothering me so I persisted.

"We’d finished our run last Sunday morning and I’d had a quick shower. I was thirsty so I nipped downstairs just in my robe to the get a Diet Coke from the fridge. Richie was still there in his tight running shorts so we chatted.”

“Go on,” Lou said encouragingly.

“Well as we chatted he was staring at me... differently; his eyes were all over my body and it made me feel awkward. I think he could tell he was doing it because he suddenly told me how good I was looking for an old lady and began to go for his own shower.”

“Is that all?” Lou asked.

“Not quite. He didn’t need to go round the table on the same side I was on but he did. As he passed he brushed up against me very close so his body pressed against mine. His hand was on my boob too. I’m sure it wasn’t an accident, Lou.”

“Was that all?”

“It was all that happened that day, but we’ve been running half a dozen times since then and he’s touched me every time. Sometimes it’s before, sometimes afterwards but it always happens. It feels like he’s getting bolder too.”

“Have you said anything to him?”

I shook my head.

“I don’t want to make a scene. I certainly don’t want to do anything that upsets his new relationship with his father. Besides, I’m not completely sure it’s happening at all.” I leaned closer. “Am I imagining things, Lou?”

“You might be,” my friend reassured me after a moment’s thought. “But you might be right too. You’re a down-to-earth girl; you don’t make up or imagine things. But even if it is true, it’s perfectly normal.”

“Normal?”

“Of course! Remember he’s only a boy. He’s at a difficult, vulnerable age; his hormones will be going crazy right now and you’re an attractive, sexy woman whom he sees every day. He’s bound to feel... urges.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I mumbled unconvinced then looked down at my feet for a moment.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Lou pressed. I nodded, embarrassed.

“When he pressed himself against me last weekend, I could feel the swelling in his shorts. It was massive and a bit threatening and...”

“And...”

“And I’ve been having... funny dreams ever since.”

Lou laughed aloud.

“Funny? You mean sexy, erotic dreams about him!”

“Shhh!” I hissed in horror, looking left and right so see if she had been overheard. “Yes,” I nodded. “Really sexy, erotic dreams!”

Lou gave me a broad, knowing grin.

“Linda that’s the most natural thing in the world too! You’re a good looking girl so he fancies you. He’s eighteen so his body shows it in the only way it knows – getting a hard-on.”

“You mean it?” I asked amazed.

“Of course! If he had a sister he’d be getting turned on by her too. He can’t help it any more than you can help your dreams. You should feel pleased he finds you so attractive. No teenagers get hard over me these days!”

“But what about...” I lowered my voice further. “What about my dreams? It seems weird having sexy dreams about my own stepson.”

Lou smiled broadly.

“Linda, he’s a very good-looking boy; you’ve been spending time together. It’s only natural for you to feel attracted to him. I wish I had a young man with a body like that in my house, fancying me. I’d swap my dreams for yours any day of the week!”

“So you don’t think there’s a problem?” I asked anxiously.

“There’s only a problem if he goes further than you want to go. If you don’t want him to touch you, say so and I’m sure he’ll stop. If you don’t mind, let it go on and enjoy feeling attractive. There haven’t been that many times in your life when a young man has made you feel this good about yourself, have there?”

She was certainly right about that; my self-esteem had simply soared since Richie had arrived. I shook my head slowly in agreement.

“No. There haven’t.”

“It’s up to you Linda of course, but I know what I would do!”

*

That night Colin and I made love more passionately than we had in a long time. Most of the passion was on my side but my husband responded well and enthusiastically. As his body thundered into mine, my legs spread obscenely wide, I could clearly see his son’s features reflected in the strong, handsome face merely inches above my own.

The image of Richie’s bulging shorts filled my mind as his father brought me to one of the sweetest orgasms I had enjoyed in a long time.

*

Reassured by my friend’s relaxed attitude, I made no mention to Richie’s about his boldness and most certainly didn’t say anything to Colin. My husband was so happy to have his son back in his life that I couldn’t imagine doing anything to interfere with his joy.

In fact, for a few days, Richie seemed to keep his distance from me, at least physically, as if waiting for something to happen. I felt a little disappointed then immediately felt ashamed of myself for feeling so. Perhaps he was expecting to be chastised for touching me, I don’t know, but if he was, it didn’t happen.

After a while, I began to wonder whether I had been imagining it after all.

We ran together almost every day for the next week. I could feel my legs becoming more toned, my tummy harder and my buttocks firming up within my running tights. There was no doubt about it, as well as transforming his father, having Richie in the house was good for me too!

By the third day, the ‘accidental touching’ had returned and if anything was even bolder. The pressure on my buttocks as he squeezed past me in the kitchen was a little firmer; the casual touching of my arm, back and on two occasions my boobs seemed a little less casual. He even managed to squeeze past me front to front on a couple of occasions. As usual, there was nothing specific to object to; no obvious interference with my body but when he pressed against me the third time I could definitely feel his penis through his running shorts. It was large and erect.

To my shame, I found this obvious attention from such an attractive young man very flattering rather than disturbing. I should have been outraged and stopped it immediately but for some reason, I didn’t. What was worse, the erotic dreams I was having were getting more frequent and more vivid. I even woke in the night mumbling his name in an aroused voice which I could tell made my husband uneasy.

When I told Lou about it all the following weekend, she was as relaxed as before.

“It’s like I said Linda,” she told me as we sipped our Diet Cokes after the morning’s BodyPump class. “However fit and strong his body is, inside he’s still a boy and is just becoming sexually aware. You’re not much older than him and you’re the most attractive woman he gets to meet. It’s only natural; every boy feels this way. He’s just testing the barriers that’ all.”

“And my dreams?” I asked.

“Enjoy them while you have them. You’re a lucky girl; I can’t even get laid in my nightmares let alone in my dreams.”

"No luck on the man front then?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Right now, my world is a desert, man-wise,” she sighed. “You have a good looking husband, a gorgeous young admirer and are having sex whether you’re awake or asleep. What do you have to complain about? I should hate you, Linda. Trust me; I’d swap my problems for yours any day of the week.”

“And you really don’t think it’s weird?”

“It’s the most natural thing in the world. Anyway, I told you before; if you don’t like it, just tell him to stop. But from what I can see, you’re quite enjoying a little extra attention.”

She was certainly right, though I didn’t tell her so.

I didn’t tell Richie to stop either. I told myself that I couldn’t possibly do anything to interfere with the joy my husband was getting from this rapprochement with his son but at least part of the reason was as Lou had guessed, Richie’s attentions were making me feel sexier and more confident than I ever had before – even more than when my husband had first seduced me.

As a result, the accidental touching grew more frequent and more daring. When his hands casually brushed against my buttocks they began to linger there; when his hips accidentally pressed against mine, the pressure was a bit stronger and remained there longer. When he helped me with jobs around the house or, more frequently helped me get into just the right exercise or yoga position, his hands dwelled on my body and boobs much longer than mere assistance would have required.

But still, Lou was relaxed about it.

“Linda, it’s just what boys do. Trust me; I have an older brother and had a teenage stepson. I know it feels weird but it’s perfectly normal. Girls get crushes on family members too. Don’t tell me you never had a crush or two when you were young... younger,” she corrected herself with a grin.

She was right again. I blushed when I remembered all the pink-ink, heart-encrusted letters to boys or even teachers I had written and left unposted. But Lou hadn’t finished.

“We’ve all done it, Linda. I know I did. It’s just that with boys it can get a bit physical and a bit... messy.”

I frowned in question. My friend leaned towards me and whispered.

“Grow up, Linda! Don’t tell me you never got damp knickers when you were at school. Girls wet their seats, right?”

I nodded remembering embarrassing moments in my youth.

“Well, boys get urges they can’t help too. And with those urges come... emissions. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Richie had photos of you hidden in his phone or on his laptop. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had stolen a pair or two of your knickers as well. They’ll be in his room somewhere and will probably be...” she paused as if embarrassed.

“Be what?” I hissed impatiently.

“Well, be a bit... crispy!”

“What do you mean? Oh! I get it. Yuk,” I said as the realisation dawned; Lou thought that Richie had probably been masturbating into my knickers.

“He can’t help it any more than you can help your dreams, Linda,” she chastised me kindly. “If he had a sister he’d be fantasising about her too – and probably she would be about him. It’s just that with boys it gets a bit more basic and messy.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” I confessed.

“You don’t have a brother or a son – yet,” she added. “My brother used to steal my panties – even Mum’s sometimes. I found them in his sports bag once.” She leaned in even closer. “To be really honest, it made me feel really grown up and sexy to think he fancied me. My brother was very attractive; all my friends fancied him.”

“You really don’t think I need to worry then?”

“Is it hurting you? Upsetting you?”

“Not really,” I told her truthfully. “Actually, not at all!”

My reaction had been just the same as hers; Richie’s attentions were doing wonders for my self-esteem.

“Then ignore it; let it happen and enjoy it while it lasts. It’s the most natural thing in the world. When he gets a proper girlfriend it will all stop so make the most of it while you can.”

She then went on to tell me of the wonderful new detox programme she had found and wanted us both to do. With my mind alive with thoughts of Richie and all she had said, I barely listened. There was the usual drivel about juices and yoga and herbal teas every day to help flush out the toxins. I promised to give it a try.

*

Later that day while Richie was at college I went quietly and guiltily into his room to see if Lou was right. I had just returned from the gym and was still in my tight, pale blue shorts and vest top but knew that if I stopped to change into my day clothes, I would lose the courage to see through the task.

My heart was thumping and my tummy rumbled with nerves. Neither Richie nor my husband would be home for hours so why the anxiety?

The truth was I didn’t know what I wanted to find. Did I want to discover sneaky pictures of myself hidden in drawers, their edges wrinkled with semen stains? Did I want to find pairs of my panties with crispy white residues on them? Would they revolt me? Disgust me?

Or would the knowledge that my drop-dead-gorgeous stepson found me attractive enough to masturbate over simply reinforce my self-esteem even further?

And if I found nothing would that disappoint me? Deep down I knew it would but hardly dared admit it.

I knew I should leave the room immediately; that no good could come of it but I couldn’t help myself.

*

Half an hour later, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and looked at myself, amazed at the transformation my stepson’s presence had produced in such a short time. Okay I was a good ten years older than him but thanks to the regime he and Lou had brought about, my former plumpness had all but gone. My legs were toned, my tummy flat, I looked the best I had looked in my whole life.

I peeled off my tight-fitting sports bra, releasing my modest boobs. Their nipples were definitely erect, but that could have been from chafing as I exercised. There was a dark, damp patch in the crotch of my shorts too; I knew my body well enough to know that most certainly hadn’t come from exercise.

I felt better about myself than I had in a very long time; perhaps better than I ever had. My drop-dead-gorgeous young stepson really did have a crush on me as the rather crumpled photos and lock of my hair under his pillow proved beyond doubt. How he had acquired the hair was a mystery but it was unquestionably my colour.

That this crush had indeed resulted in the emissions Lou had predicted was also proved by the two rather stained pairs of my knickers I had found in a shoe box at the bottom of his wardrobe.

I should have been shocked; I should have been disgusted andTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.