Chapter 136 STEPMOM wants my cock 4
The gym was full of stale sweat and cold iron. I had spent two hours in there, pushing weights until my muscles burned and my head cleared. The heavy, humid air did nothing to settle the chaos in my mind. I needed the exhaustion. I needed the weight of the plates to crush the thoughts of Lizzy out of my brain. Every time I pushed a heavy barbell, I pictured her face instead of the iron. Every breath I took felt like a gasp for air in a room that was slowly filling with her presence.
It didn't work. The harder I worked, the more my body hummed with a restless, agonizing tension.
I walked back toward the kitchen, my tank top soaked through, my skin slick with sweat. I was breathing heavily, my heart still slamming a rhythm against my chest. I just wanted a glass of ice water. I wanted to forget the way she had leaned against my desk that morning.
The kitchen door was ajar. A low, rhythmic sound leaked out into the hallway.
Whirrr... hummm…
I stopped. I edged forward, and my heart stopped dead in my throat.
Lizzy.
She was standing by the center island. She wasn't cooking. She was braced against the marble countertop, her legs spread wide to give her better leverage. She was wearing one of my father’s old dress shirts—it was unbuttoned, hanging off her shoulders, revealing everything down to her lace-trimmed hips.
In her right hand, she held a heavy, silver vibrator. It was humming, vibrating so hard I could see the blur of it. She was pressing it deep between her legs, her eyes rolled back into her head, her jaw hanging slack as she rode the waves of the high-speed motor.
"Sha... ShaQuan..." she gasped out, the name vibrating in her throat like a low-frequency growl. "Yes... oh, fuck... ShaQuan..." The toy hit a higher pitch, and her hips jerked forward, her body hungry for the friction.
I couldn't move. I was paralyzed. I wanted to turn around, to go back to my room, but my feet were glued to the floor. She was touching herself, her left hand buried deep inside her own heat, fingers working in a fast, frantic rhythm to match the hum of the toy. I could hear the wet, sucking sounds she made as her fingers pushed deeper, opening herself up to her own touch.
She looked up. Her eyes snapped open, and they locked onto mine.
She didn't stop, didn't cover herself, or hide the fact that she was masturbating to her stepson's name.
She just kept going, her fingers working faster now, creating a wet, squelching sound that filled the room. The sound was louder than her moans, a messy, explicit rhythm that made my own blood run cold and hot all at once. She dipped her fingers deeper, pulling them out and showing me how slick and ready she was. I watched a glob of her clear, sticky desire cling to her fingertips before she brought them to her own lips, tasting the evidence of her arousal with a slow, deliberate flick of her tongue.
"Oh... yes..." she moaned, her voice thick and needy. "Ahhh… You like this, don't you, ShaQuan? You like knowing what it feels like to have me wet for you..." She slowed her hand, letting the vibrator do the heavy lifting, her hips rotating in a slow, grinding circle that forced the toy to hit every sensitive nerve.
Her hand moved faster, slapping against her skin. She was looking right at me, her gaze hungry, predatory. She knew exactly what she was doing. She was performing a play, and I was the only audience member she cared about.
I looked down. My gym shorts were thin. The tent in my pants was huge, an undeniable, throbbing reminder of exactly what I was feeling. She saw it. Her eyes dropped, caught the movement, and her smile turned into a wide, wicked grin.
"Oh, look," she teased, her voice dropping to a low, rough growl. "Your cock doesn't lie, does it? It’s so big... so ready for me..." She abandoned the vibrator for a split second, her hand joining her fingers as she worked her clit with a savage, uncaring speed.
She leaned into it, pushing the vibrator harder, her hips bucking in short, sharp bursts. Her moans grew louder, more desperate. "Yes... yes! ShaQuan! It’s coming! I’m going to... AHHH! SHAQUAN!" The vibrator’s hum rose to a frantic whine, and her entire body began to tremble, a visible shiver running from her neck down to her arched feet.
Her body went rigid. Her legs shook, her heels digging into the floor. She let out a long, high-pitched scream that ended in a series of jagged, shallow gasps. She shuddered as the climax tore through her, waves of sensation crashing over her until her grip on the counter was the only thing keeping her upright. She was milking herself, her muscles pulsing in rapid-fire contractions, squeezing her own fingers inside her.
She just slumped, breathing hard, her eyes still locked on mine. She took a moment to catch her breath, her chest heaving, the shirt sliding even further off her shoulder to show the dark, flushed skin of her neck. A single bead of sweat rolled from her temple, trailing down to the valley between her breasts.
She straightened up slowly, her legs a little shaky. She put the toy away and then started walking toward me, her footsteps silent. She stopped right in front of me, the scent of her pleasure hitting me like a wall. Her skin was still radiating a feverish heat, and her pupils were still dilated to the point of blackness.
"Did you enjoy the show?" she whispered, her voice still trembling from the aftershocks.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I was trapped in her space, the heat radiating off her skin making my head swim with thoughts of what to do to her.
Her hand reached out. Her palm dipped into the band of my sweatpants. Fuck. Her hand was hot, damp with her own juices. She reached and gripped my cock.
She closed her hand around the thick, pulsing length of me, her fingers digging in, feeling the heat, feeling the strength. She gave a firm, teasing tug, her thumb rubbing against the sensitive underside of the head, forcing a drop of my own anticipation to leak out and coat her palm.
I didn't fight it. I didn't have the strength to.
She squeezed, and a jolt of pure, electric shock went straight to my brain.
"You're hard again," she murmured, her eyes dark, bottomless pits of intent. "Let me help you."
"Don't," I rasped, even though my hips betrayed me, pushing forward into her hand. The sheer sensation of her grip felt like it was rewiring my nervous system.
"Shhhh..." she shushed me, her thumb stroking the sensitive, weeping tip of my cock. "It’s just help, ShaQuan. You will love it. You know you want to."
Her hand started to move, sliding up and down with a slow, agonizingly perfect rhythm. She felt the way I shuddered. She felt the way I leaned into her. With every downward stroke, she scraped her nails lightly against my skin, sending a fresh wave of adrenaline through my veins.