The Epiphany of Bryan Whiting
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Traveling With Bryan - Ch.1 - The Temptation Begins free porn video
These events took place in November 2013, over a year ago...even now, these events seem surreal. I struggle to accept the fact that I made these mistakes. But as I write this, I must face the fact that I did allow my stepson into my bed.
Perhaps I am writing this to understand why I made the poor choices I made. Or perhaps I am merely try to justify my actions to myself. But here is my story.
My background:
I married Bryan's father, Jim, five years ago, when Bryan was only twelve years old.
Jim had been as single parent for years. His first wife, Bryan's mother, decided motherhood and 'living the life of a housewife' were not for her. She divorced Jim, gave up full custody of Bryan and moved to Europe to pursue her dreams. I have never met her, and neither Jim or Bryan have heard from her in over ten years. To a large extent, she no longer exists in any of our lives.
At the time of this story (a little over a year ago), I was twenty four; and I was considerably younger than Jim, who was thirty six. In fact, I was actually closer to Bryan's age at sixteen, than I was to my husband's age.
Bryan was an easy child to raise and to love. He was respectful, quiet and somewhat shy. Because of the closeness of our ages, I never felt the role of stepmother-stepson described our relationship. He called me 'Brenda'.
Bryan and I often talked about things as equals rather than as a person of authority instructing a child. I felt my role was more about guiding him than commanding him to obey.
I guess what I am trying to explain is that I was an advisor and a trusted consult more than an authoritative parent.
My excuse:
My mind wanders frequently; often in ways I do not intend, or want. I do not know if I am unique or not, but on occasion, I find myself thinking about things that society deems highly inappropriate. As I watched him grow from an adolescent to a fine young man, some of these inappropriate thoughts involved Bryan.
These daydreams or fantasies were not terribly wicked; but they were definitely inappropriate. I would imagine accidently walking in on him masturbating; Bryan accidently walking in on me when I was dressing, or when I was in the shower.
When I allowed myself to explore inappropriate fantasies, I did so with the strong belief that these were only fantasies; I would never actually act upon them. Further, I was comforted by the belief that in the real world in which I live, I knew I would not be tempted to act out any of these perverse desires that haunted my subconscious because I believed I would never actually be placed in a situation that would allow me to act inappropriately with my stepson.
As you will see momentarily, I was wrong.
Fate is unpredictable and, on occasion, cruel. So as you read my story, I ask you to try to refrain from judging me too harshly. It was an unexpected and unplanned set of events that lead to my most heinous sin, and my demise. It was an avalanche of emotions associated with my father's unexpected illness and his potentially imminent death, the unwise decision I made to drink with my stepson to alleviate my sense of loss, and being thrust into the unusual situation where I was forced to share a hotel room with my stepson, that combined to drive me to cross a line that I never intended to cross.
I never expected or intended to do the things that I did. Before judging me, you should realize that perhaps you too could make grievous mistakes if placed in the 'wrong situation', with the proper (or perhaps I should say improper?) emotional state of mind.
I am not proud of what I did; but this is my story nonetheless.
Chapter one - the intimacy starts
I was sitting at my desk in my downtown Chicago office building when I received the call from my father's wife, Lorraine. Dad had suffered a stroke and was in the ICU in a hospital in Albuquerque. He had not regained consciousness, and his recovery was uncertain. Lorraine advised me that I really needed to come to Albuquerque quickly.
At the time I got this phone call, Jim had been away for nearly three months working a construction job in Alaska. I was upset that he was not here to support me in my time of need. Since Jim was working as a contract electrician and was not a full-time employee of the construction company, he was not entitled to all the benefits a full-time employee would get.
If he left the job site to accompany me to New Mexico to see my father, Jim would be replaced and would essentially lose his job. We could not afford for Jim to lose his job. We needed the money.
I was numb. No one ever is prepared to receive a phone call telling them that their father has had a stroke and may not recover. I really longed for Jim to be here for emotional support. But I would have to handle this crisis myself.
I arranged to pick up Bryan, at his high school and then we both headed home to pack for the trip. Bryan was a few weeks past his sixteenth birthday, and was in his sophomore year in high school. Bryan looked shocked when I described what had been told to me about his step grandfather's stroke; but he did not react much. I wondered what was going through his mind as we prepared to travel across country to see my father.
We packed quickly and left our home shortly after lunch for a multi-day journey to see my father before it was too late.
It was after one o'clock in the afternoon when Bryan and I headed out of Chicago in my Honda Civic. I headed south on I-55 as our trek began. It would take us three full days of driving. Bryan and I would share the driving.
As we drove, we talked about my dad, our family, Bryan's and my closeness. I cried some and laughed some. In my emotionally needy state, I felt even closer to Bryan than usual. At the time, it did not feel wrong to lean on Bryan the way I did. In fact, our closeness seemed natural and appropriate.
It was almost nine p.m. when we pulled off the road for the night outside St. Louis, looking for a place to spend the night. Since the trip was completely unplanned, we did not have reservations. We went to three different motels before finding one with vacancies: a Holiday Inn Express which did not have any rooms with two twin beds, only rooms with single king beds. I really could not afford separate rooms.
As I was traveling with my teenage stepson, this presented an awkward situation; however, we were both exhausted and were far too tired to get back on the road and continue to look for a more suitable sleeping arrangement. Bryan and I agreed we could share a king size bed tonight under these circumstances.
We went to a local Pizza Hut and ordered a large sausage and mushroom pizza to go. I bought two bottles of cheap merlot wine from the convenience store, thinking that I could use a little help getting to sleep to night.
Soon we were in our room, eating pizza while sitting on the king sized bed. I had my first glass of wine with pizza while Bryan drank a large root beer.
I took a shower, dried my hair and came to bed wearing a t-shirt and my panties. I was not overly matronly, but neither was I wearing anything revealing or overly provocative. I exited the bathroom to find Bryan lying on top of the bed in his boxers without a shirt; he watching television. I was immediately impressed with the nice physique he had now. He had nice muscle tone; his chest and arms were developing nicely. I also noticed his 'package' in front of his boxers bulged slightly, indicating that he was developing nicely there too. I must admit, I took some degree of pride in the fine looking young man my stepson had become.
Bryan's father was a big man, about six foot, four inches tall and 225 pounds. Bryan favored his father, he was slender, but had grown to six foot, three inches and was approaching 200 pounds. He had broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a nicely developed chest. No question about it, Bryan was going to be very popular with the girls once he got over his shyness. In a somewhat perverse way, I envied the young women that I knew Bryan would sexually ravage and pleasure some day soon.
On the other hand, I was a rather petite woman at five foot, five inches (if I stretched), and about 115 pounds. I have a slender figure with small, perky 34B cup breasts. I have green eyes, and a pretty smile. Objectively speaking, I am not 'hard on the eyes'. In fact most men tell me that I am quite pretty.
As I confessed earlier, at the beginning of this chapter, at times while masturbating, I would fantasize that I accidently caught Bryan masturbating, or he caught me in some various stage of undress. In these fantasies, the situation was awkward, embarrassing to both of us, but arousing to both of us. It seemed like a harmless fantasy at the time.
I opened the bottle of wine and poured myself a second, sizeable glass of the burgundy colored nectar that I hoped would relax me enough to get some sleep. I climbed on the bed next to Bryan and sipped my wine.
"Brenda, can I taste that?" Bryan asked. Bryan always referred to me by my first name rather than 'mom'.
I handed him the glass and watched with interest. He sipped the merlot, and nodded appreciatively. I then asked, "would you like a glass?"
He nodded. I saw no harm, so I poured him a glass and refilled my own glass.
We spent the next hour or so, talking and together we consumed the entire bottle of wine. Bryan got a little gabby and frisky with the two glasses of wine he had. I could feel myself becoming slightly light headed from my third glass; usually my limit is two.
It was after 10:30 p.m., when I declared it was time for 'lights out'; we needed our sleep. We climbed under the covers, each staying on our own side of the bed in the eerie silence of the darkness. Then the enormity of my father's stroke, and the potential of his death hit me; and I began to cry. Although I tried to be silent in my tears, Bryan sensed that I was weeping.
"Brenda, are you OK?" he asked with genuine concern.
"Oh, I will be. I am just upset about my father." I said, my voice cracking as I spoke. I turned on my side, my back to my stepson, and continue to cry.
Bryan rolled over next to me, and placed his arm around me, comforting me. I welcomed the contact as he slid behind me, spooning me. It had been over three months since I had enjoyed the comfort and intimacy of a man's touch. I missed it, a lot.
My thoughts were completely innocent up to this point. Bryan's strong arm draped around my shoulders, and gently massaged my upper arm and I snuggled back into my stepson's chest and abdomen.
Bryan's strong, but gentle contact seemed to trigger an emotional release within me. I started crying harder, weeping, as much chest heaved slightly in uncontrollable sobs.
Bryan held me tighter, trying to calm me. I needed his comfort and contact at that moment. We cuddled and I accepted this innocent and emotional comfort and physical contact for several minutes; enjoying the closeness that my stepson and I shared.
Suddenly, I felt his penis throb to life against my backside. The first pulse was so slight, I was not sure what it was. But seconds later, another, firmer pulse pressed against me, and I was certain; Bryan's penis was growing erect as he held me.
That's right, my stepson was starting to get a boner as he held me while I cried!
I froze. I did not want to embarrass or scold him. After all, sixteen year old boys are infamous for getting unwanted, almost perpetual erections at the most inopportune times. I did not know what to do. I did not want to encourage his growing excitement, but above all, I did not want the contact to stop. So I pretended not to notice the throbbing penis pressing against my ass.
I laid there motionless and silent as I experienced my stepson's erection growing firmer, and larger against me. Neither Bryan nor I spoke for several minutes as he held me, but I was aware that he was growing fully erect as he cuddled with his stepmother. But his erection was now unmistakable.
I wondered, could my sixteen year old stepson be so naïve that he could possibly think I am not aware of his throbbing hard-on pulsing firmly against my buttocks? I felt my heart pounding in my chest from the combination of fear and excitement as my stepson grew harder and larger with each progressive pulse of his penis.
Bryan pulled away ever so briefly, and he reached down with his hand, placed it in his boxers, and he subtly adjusted himself, allowing his erection to point upward towards his naval, releasing some obvious discomfort his 'boner' was causing him. With this adjustment, he slowly returned his arm around me, pulled me close to him, pressing his hard cock into the crack of my butt. I was shocked to realized that his erection was outside the opening in the front of his boxers now, separated only by the thin cotton material of my bikini panties. Bryan had placed his 'boner' through the slit in front of his boxers when he had 'adjusted' himself!
I was suddenly aware that my vagina was responding to this unnatural and improper contact with my stepson. I was aware that I was beginning to lubricate, and I could feel my clitoris growing erect. I could feel my pulse very distinctly in my engorged clit as Bryan pressed himself into me.
I lay there, motionless, enjoying the closeness and intimacy of this sinful moment. God, it was difficult to resist grinding back into him. But with my vagina getting wet, my clit throbbing with each beat of my pulse, and my heart and mind racing; I successfully remained mostly motionless with Bryan's youthful erection pressed firmly against the thin cotton material of my pale green panties which was covering my ass. I was so excited and so confused.
Although I knew it was wrong, I enjoyed this sinful contact with my teenage stepson. I convinced myself that if I did not acknowledge it, I could pretend it was not actually happening.
Finally, with the wine's assistance, I drifted off to sleep in the arms of my stepson, his erect penis pressed firmly into my buttocks. It was a wonderfully intimate moment that very few stepmothers will ever enjoy with their stepsons. And I was convinced then, as I am now, up to that point, I had not done anything too terribly wrong; I had committed no sin.
Hours later, from a deep sleep, I was awakened. Bryan and I were still cuddled together, spooning with my butt pressing into his groin.
Somewhere from the depths of slumber, Bryan tentatively started rocking his hips, grinding his cock against my ass. I could not determine if he was awake, or asleep.
At first, he started out pressing against me slowly, tentatively, in order to subtly to gauge my reaction. When I continued to ignore his actions, his humping became more pronounced and forceful. But I was not sure he was awake.
I knew then, as I know now, I should have broken off our embrace, and rolled away from my stepson. I know that I should stop this before it went any further. But somehow, I seemed powerless to move away; I did not feel I could break away from his embrace. I seemed frozen. The combination of the three glasses of wine, and my emotional neediness at the moment coupled with my arousal from this surreal situation somehow prevented me from doing what I knew I should.
My mind went wild trying to decide what I should do. I continued to ignore the humping, feigning sleep. I continued to lie there silently and motionless, pretending to be in a deep, deep slumber. However, Bryan's movements were becoming too forceful forTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
Perhaps I am writing this to understand why I made the poor choices I made. Or perhaps I am merely try to justify my actions to myself. But here is my story.
My background:
I married Bryan's father, Jim, five years ago, when Bryan was only twelve years old.
Jim had been as single parent for years. His first wife, Bryan's mother, decided motherhood and 'living the life of a housewife' were not for her. She divorced Jim, gave up full custody of Bryan and moved to Europe to pursue her dreams. I have never met her, and neither Jim or Bryan have heard from her in over ten years. To a large extent, she no longer exists in any of our lives.
At the time of this story (a little over a year ago), I was twenty four; and I was considerably younger than Jim, who was thirty six. In fact, I was actually closer to Bryan's age at sixteen, than I was to my husband's age.
Bryan was an easy child to raise and to love. He was respectful, quiet and somewhat shy. Because of the closeness of our ages, I never felt the role of stepmother-stepson described our relationship. He called me 'Brenda'.
Bryan and I often talked about things as equals rather than as a person of authority instructing a child. I felt my role was more about guiding him than commanding him to obey.
I guess what I am trying to explain is that I was an advisor and a trusted consult more than an authoritative parent.
My excuse:
My mind wanders frequently; often in ways I do not intend, or want. I do not know if I am unique or not, but on occasion, I find myself thinking about things that society deems highly inappropriate. As I watched him grow from an adolescent to a fine young man, some of these inappropriate thoughts involved Bryan.
These daydreams or fantasies were not terribly wicked; but they were definitely inappropriate. I would imagine accidently walking in on him masturbating; Bryan accidently walking in on me when I was dressing, or when I was in the shower.
When I allowed myself to explore inappropriate fantasies, I did so with the strong belief that these were only fantasies; I would never actually act upon them. Further, I was comforted by the belief that in the real world in which I live, I knew I would not be tempted to act out any of these perverse desires that haunted my subconscious because I believed I would never actually be placed in a situation that would allow me to act inappropriately with my stepson.
As you will see momentarily, I was wrong.
Fate is unpredictable and, on occasion, cruel. So as you read my story, I ask you to try to refrain from judging me too harshly. It was an unexpected and unplanned set of events that lead to my most heinous sin, and my demise. It was an avalanche of emotions associated with my father's unexpected illness and his potentially imminent death, the unwise decision I made to drink with my stepson to alleviate my sense of loss, and being thrust into the unusual situation where I was forced to share a hotel room with my stepson, that combined to drive me to cross a line that I never intended to cross.
I never expected or intended to do the things that I did. Before judging me, you should realize that perhaps you too could make grievous mistakes if placed in the 'wrong situation', with the proper (or perhaps I should say improper?) emotional state of mind.
I am not proud of what I did; but this is my story nonetheless.
Chapter one - the intimacy starts
I was sitting at my desk in my downtown Chicago office building when I received the call from my father's wife, Lorraine. Dad had suffered a stroke and was in the ICU in a hospital in Albuquerque. He had not regained consciousness, and his recovery was uncertain. Lorraine advised me that I really needed to come to Albuquerque quickly.
At the time I got this phone call, Jim had been away for nearly three months working a construction job in Alaska. I was upset that he was not here to support me in my time of need. Since Jim was working as a contract electrician and was not a full-time employee of the construction company, he was not entitled to all the benefits a full-time employee would get.
If he left the job site to accompany me to New Mexico to see my father, Jim would be replaced and would essentially lose his job. We could not afford for Jim to lose his job. We needed the money.
I was numb. No one ever is prepared to receive a phone call telling them that their father has had a stroke and may not recover. I really longed for Jim to be here for emotional support. But I would have to handle this crisis myself.
I arranged to pick up Bryan, at his high school and then we both headed home to pack for the trip. Bryan was a few weeks past his sixteenth birthday, and was in his sophomore year in high school. Bryan looked shocked when I described what had been told to me about his step grandfather's stroke; but he did not react much. I wondered what was going through his mind as we prepared to travel across country to see my father.
We packed quickly and left our home shortly after lunch for a multi-day journey to see my father before it was too late.
It was after one o'clock in the afternoon when Bryan and I headed out of Chicago in my Honda Civic. I headed south on I-55 as our trek began. It would take us three full days of driving. Bryan and I would share the driving.
As we drove, we talked about my dad, our family, Bryan's and my closeness. I cried some and laughed some. In my emotionally needy state, I felt even closer to Bryan than usual. At the time, it did not feel wrong to lean on Bryan the way I did. In fact, our closeness seemed natural and appropriate.
It was almost nine p.m. when we pulled off the road for the night outside St. Louis, looking for a place to spend the night. Since the trip was completely unplanned, we did not have reservations. We went to three different motels before finding one with vacancies: a Holiday Inn Express which did not have any rooms with two twin beds, only rooms with single king beds. I really could not afford separate rooms.
As I was traveling with my teenage stepson, this presented an awkward situation; however, we were both exhausted and were far too tired to get back on the road and continue to look for a more suitable sleeping arrangement. Bryan and I agreed we could share a king size bed tonight under these circumstances.
We went to a local Pizza Hut and ordered a large sausage and mushroom pizza to go. I bought two bottles of cheap merlot wine from the convenience store, thinking that I could use a little help getting to sleep to night.
Soon we were in our room, eating pizza while sitting on the king sized bed. I had my first glass of wine with pizza while Bryan drank a large root beer.
I took a shower, dried my hair and came to bed wearing a t-shirt and my panties. I was not overly matronly, but neither was I wearing anything revealing or overly provocative. I exited the bathroom to find Bryan lying on top of the bed in his boxers without a shirt; he watching television. I was immediately impressed with the nice physique he had now. He had nice muscle tone; his chest and arms were developing nicely. I also noticed his 'package' in front of his boxers bulged slightly, indicating that he was developing nicely there too. I must admit, I took some degree of pride in the fine looking young man my stepson had become.
Bryan's father was a big man, about six foot, four inches tall and 225 pounds. Bryan favored his father, he was slender, but had grown to six foot, three inches and was approaching 200 pounds. He had broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a nicely developed chest. No question about it, Bryan was going to be very popular with the girls once he got over his shyness. In a somewhat perverse way, I envied the young women that I knew Bryan would sexually ravage and pleasure some day soon.
On the other hand, I was a rather petite woman at five foot, five inches (if I stretched), and about 115 pounds. I have a slender figure with small, perky 34B cup breasts. I have green eyes, and a pretty smile. Objectively speaking, I am not 'hard on the eyes'. In fact most men tell me that I am quite pretty.
As I confessed earlier, at the beginning of this chapter, at times while masturbating, I would fantasize that I accidently caught Bryan masturbating, or he caught me in some various stage of undress. In these fantasies, the situation was awkward, embarrassing to both of us, but arousing to both of us. It seemed like a harmless fantasy at the time.
I opened the bottle of wine and poured myself a second, sizeable glass of the burgundy colored nectar that I hoped would relax me enough to get some sleep. I climbed on the bed next to Bryan and sipped my wine.
"Brenda, can I taste that?" Bryan asked. Bryan always referred to me by my first name rather than 'mom'.
I handed him the glass and watched with interest. He sipped the merlot, and nodded appreciatively. I then asked, "would you like a glass?"
He nodded. I saw no harm, so I poured him a glass and refilled my own glass.
We spent the next hour or so, talking and together we consumed the entire bottle of wine. Bryan got a little gabby and frisky with the two glasses of wine he had. I could feel myself becoming slightly light headed from my third glass; usually my limit is two.
It was after 10:30 p.m., when I declared it was time for 'lights out'; we needed our sleep. We climbed under the covers, each staying on our own side of the bed in the eerie silence of the darkness. Then the enormity of my father's stroke, and the potential of his death hit me; and I began to cry. Although I tried to be silent in my tears, Bryan sensed that I was weeping.
"Brenda, are you OK?" he asked with genuine concern.
"Oh, I will be. I am just upset about my father." I said, my voice cracking as I spoke. I turned on my side, my back to my stepson, and continue to cry.
Bryan rolled over next to me, and placed his arm around me, comforting me. I welcomed the contact as he slid behind me, spooning me. It had been over three months since I had enjoyed the comfort and intimacy of a man's touch. I missed it, a lot.
My thoughts were completely innocent up to this point. Bryan's strong arm draped around my shoulders, and gently massaged my upper arm and I snuggled back into my stepson's chest and abdomen.
Bryan's strong, but gentle contact seemed to trigger an emotional release within me. I started crying harder, weeping, as much chest heaved slightly in uncontrollable sobs.
Bryan held me tighter, trying to calm me. I needed his comfort and contact at that moment. We cuddled and I accepted this innocent and emotional comfort and physical contact for several minutes; enjoying the closeness that my stepson and I shared.
Suddenly, I felt his penis throb to life against my backside. The first pulse was so slight, I was not sure what it was. But seconds later, another, firmer pulse pressed against me, and I was certain; Bryan's penis was growing erect as he held me.
That's right, my stepson was starting to get a boner as he held me while I cried!
I froze. I did not want to embarrass or scold him. After all, sixteen year old boys are infamous for getting unwanted, almost perpetual erections at the most inopportune times. I did not know what to do. I did not want to encourage his growing excitement, but above all, I did not want the contact to stop. So I pretended not to notice the throbbing penis pressing against my ass.
I laid there motionless and silent as I experienced my stepson's erection growing firmer, and larger against me. Neither Bryan nor I spoke for several minutes as he held me, but I was aware that he was growing fully erect as he cuddled with his stepmother. But his erection was now unmistakable.
I wondered, could my sixteen year old stepson be so naïve that he could possibly think I am not aware of his throbbing hard-on pulsing firmly against my buttocks? I felt my heart pounding in my chest from the combination of fear and excitement as my stepson grew harder and larger with each progressive pulse of his penis.
Bryan pulled away ever so briefly, and he reached down with his hand, placed it in his boxers, and he subtly adjusted himself, allowing his erection to point upward towards his naval, releasing some obvious discomfort his 'boner' was causing him. With this adjustment, he slowly returned his arm around me, pulled me close to him, pressing his hard cock into the crack of my butt. I was shocked to realized that his erection was outside the opening in the front of his boxers now, separated only by the thin cotton material of my bikini panties. Bryan had placed his 'boner' through the slit in front of his boxers when he had 'adjusted' himself!
I was suddenly aware that my vagina was responding to this unnatural and improper contact with my stepson. I was aware that I was beginning to lubricate, and I could feel my clitoris growing erect. I could feel my pulse very distinctly in my engorged clit as Bryan pressed himself into me.
I lay there, motionless, enjoying the closeness and intimacy of this sinful moment. God, it was difficult to resist grinding back into him. But with my vagina getting wet, my clit throbbing with each beat of my pulse, and my heart and mind racing; I successfully remained mostly motionless with Bryan's youthful erection pressed firmly against the thin cotton material of my pale green panties which was covering my ass. I was so excited and so confused.
Although I knew it was wrong, I enjoyed this sinful contact with my teenage stepson. I convinced myself that if I did not acknowledge it, I could pretend it was not actually happening.
Finally, with the wine's assistance, I drifted off to sleep in the arms of my stepson, his erect penis pressed firmly into my buttocks. It was a wonderfully intimate moment that very few stepmothers will ever enjoy with their stepsons. And I was convinced then, as I am now, up to that point, I had not done anything too terribly wrong; I had committed no sin.
Hours later, from a deep sleep, I was awakened. Bryan and I were still cuddled together, spooning with my butt pressing into his groin.
Somewhere from the depths of slumber, Bryan tentatively started rocking his hips, grinding his cock against my ass. I could not determine if he was awake, or asleep.
At first, he started out pressing against me slowly, tentatively, in order to subtly to gauge my reaction. When I continued to ignore his actions, his humping became more pronounced and forceful. But I was not sure he was awake.
I knew then, as I know now, I should have broken off our embrace, and rolled away from my stepson. I know that I should stop this before it went any further. But somehow, I seemed powerless to move away; I did not feel I could break away from his embrace. I seemed frozen. The combination of the three glasses of wine, and my emotional neediness at the moment coupled with my arousal from this surreal situation somehow prevented me from doing what I knew I should.
My mind went wild trying to decide what I should do. I continued to ignore the humping, feigning sleep. I continued to lie there silently and motionless, pretending to be in a deep, deep slumber. However, Bryan's movements were becoming too forceful forTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
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