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She awoke with a start. Still half in her dreams, being chased by the handsome film star, riding fast, feeling the heat and the vibration from the pony’s back between her legs, moving beneath the sunlit trees… she blinked her eyes. Moonlight cascaded across the bed and she was breathing heavily. Her nipples ached and her fingers quickly told her she was wet… wow! what a horny dream!

She turned slightly. The sound of snores came to her ears.

“Oh, he’s back, then,” she thought, as she became aware of the drunken, snorting mound of flesh beside her. This husband was an unnecessary addition to her life now.

She moved her legs under the hot sheets. She felt so turned on, so full of her dream. She rolled a finger around her nipple and felt an explosion of feeling course through her body.

Without being able to stop it, she let out a long frustrated groan.

She had to do something about this… reveling in all these sexy dream feelings. She slid quietly out of bed, and pulled her silk dressing gown around her nakedness. She moved across the moonlit bedroom, opened the door quietly and slipped into the bathroom.

It was quick and ultimately unsatisfying… her initial lust was satisfied, but a deep hollow feeling consumed her. She sat there, legs outstretched, her fingers wet but stationary between her legs, listening to her heart pounding. Suddenly, she heard a noise through the wall, and she froze in fright… ah!

Then, of course! Her dreams had so overwhelmed her, she’d forgotten. Forgotten that Brad was back in his old bedroom, her eighteen year old stepson back after his near-fatal motorbike crash.

Opening the door without a sound, her heart still pounding, she became aware of Brad’s slightly open door. She moved quietly in the semi-darkness.

He had been allowed back from the hospital, but the bed and the machinery had had to come with him. Brad had broken both arms, and was trussed up with weights and cranes. Poor boy! He was unable to do anything for himself.

As she peered in through the door, her heart took a shuddering leap. Brad had somehow kicked the bed covers off, and was sporting a huge erection. No doubt he, too, had awoken from an erotic dream and he was desperately trying to reach himself to give himself some relief. His engorged penis stretched erect and high, but even so, the wires and the pulleys would not let his hands low enough to reach it. She watched for a few moments while he held himself with finger and thumb, trying to make some little movement. Then he fell back against the pillow, tears of frustration his eyes.

She decided to help.

She opened the door and he looked up with an expression of shock and embarrassment. He tried to cover himself back over, but with no success.

“Sssh!” She held a finger to her lips.

She moved over and sat on the edge of the bed. She tried not to look down at the proud, throbbing thing in front of her, but looked straight into his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking away.

“It’s OK, “she whispered, reassuringly. “I know what a man wants… a real man, that is… you need to release it just as much as a woman. And I know what you need now… you look like you need some help…

She smiled.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “This happens to us all you know. Would you like me to do it for you?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but closed her hand around his erection.

“You would like me too, wouldn’t you? You would love me to masturbate you?”

He was still looking to one side, but he swallowed hard and his cock throbbed. She moved her hand downwards, feeling the full length of it.

“It’s so big, Brad. So big and fat. Mmmmmmm, I love running my fingers across it. Do you want me to wank you, Brad. Shall I wank you until you cum?”

Brad couldn’t look at her, but he nodded. Struck dumb.

“Let me wank you slowly,” she continued, taking her time to slide from the bottom of his shaft to the top and down to the bottom again. “Does that feel good now?”

She was certain it felt good for him, but for her it was like a trigger. Her semi-satisfied lust broke out like a sweat all over her body, and she found herself breathing deeply.

“Hell, this is horny,” she said, trying to laugh. But something caught in her throat. The throbbing was become evident between her legs again. His cock felt so big and fat between her fingers, and her pussy was so hungry.

But, no! No sex at all because that would be wrong… Just a hand job while maybe playing with myself a little… the thoughts flashed around her head, telling herself, just make him cum, just make him cum — that’s all you need to do, she told herself.

But she was becoming so turned on.

“It’s awfully dry,” she croaked, finding it hard to talk. “Perhaps a little saliva might help…”

And while he closed his eyes, she bent forward and took the smooth tip between her lips, moving over it and feeling the hot skin slip into her mouth. She closed her eyes, and gave herself over to the sensation. My god, it was big… and it was all male. My! She felt so dirty, so horny, so sexy.

She pulled apart her gown and let it fall from her shoulders. She ran her fingers over her breasts. Her nipples were engorged. She ran her tongue over the top of his cock and tasted the precum. She thought she would explode.

Her mouth dripping with saliva she pulled off him.

“Is that good?” she mouthed. “Would you like me to rub my tits over your cock now?”

This talking-dirty was making her shake. She wanted to masturbate him and feel the cum running down her breasts. She wanted to stand over him, offer her pussy to his mouth and watch him struggle and buck as he tried to suck her off.

Then she wanted to fuck him.

All these thoughts ran through her head as she stroked her breasts across his cock. Topless and talking very sexy… “I’m wanking you now…” she whispered, as she held his cock tight within her fist. “I’m going to wank you until you cum all over my tits. ”

His cock was slippery with her saliva now, hot and hard and very slippery. She pumped her fist up and down the rigid length and whispered as she did so… “I’m wanking you now, Brad. I’m wanking you so hard I want you to cum. Cum over my breasts, and think of my pussy while you do so. Think of my hot, wet pussy…”

She pumped him harder. His head fell sideways as he gave himself up to the sensations, but his eyes were fixed on hers. As her hand slid faster and faster, she looked at him with hungry eyes. She licked her lips. She opened her legs and with her free hand she slipped into her pussy.

“I’m wanking myself now, Brad. I’m wanking myself while I wank you…”

Yes! That felt good, now. Watching him watching her, her body shaking with the effort of masturbation.

“Yes!” she hissed. “Cum now… cum while I cum..”

Suddenly he let out a stifled groan, and an eruption of sticky liquid pumped from the tip of his cock, hitting her breast, running down her hand, months of pent-up lust bursting out of him.

Then she too, the thrill of all this hitting her like a punch bag and she near-doubled up as her orgasm shook her.

“Yesssss, yesssss!” she spat. “Cum for me!”

And she bent forward, fitting her mouth over his cock and tasting the seed that still trickled from him. She felt dirty. She felt bad. She felt wonderful.

And she knew this would not be the last small orgy she would have with her imprisoned lover…

She awoke late the following morning. The bed was cold beside her.

Then she remembered … the memory of last night swept over her and thrilled her once more. She sat up. She had things to organise.

The first thing she did was to reach across to the phone and call up the nurse, old Mrs. Crow, and tell her not to bother coming back. Brad had been allowed back from hospital, the bed and the machinery had come with him, and initially Mrs. Crow had been hired to look after him. But now she would look after her stepson herself.

She slipped out of bed and chuckled to herself.

“Me … playing the nurse again!”

She searched through the wardrobe to find her old nurse’s uniform. It was a bit tight now, her breasts were bigger, and the skirt was a bit short, but it still fitted neatly around her slim waist.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Mmmmm, very nice. She undid one of the top buttons and pushed her breasts up a bit. The skirt was so short now, that when she bent over she could see the pale flesh above her black stockings. She laughed to herself. She felt sure that Brad would enjoy that! Then she fixed the nurse’s cap to her head, stepped into her shiny black high-heels and stood back to see the whole creation in the mirror. Perfect!!

“Jennifer! You look like a real tart!” she murmured proudly to the mirror. “Ah! …….. except for one thing!”

She leaned over, slipped off her knickers and threw them on to the bed. No need for those!

She went down to the kitchen and prepared Brad’s breakfast. He had to be fed, as his injuries and the plaster-casts, wires and pulleys didn’t allow him to move at all. He was imprisoned in his own bed.

She wondered what he would like, what should she feed him? She prepared a bowl of yoghurt with sliced strawberries on top and set it on the tray. Then she noticed a mango on the window ledge. It was really ripe, so she carefully cut it into quarters and took out the stone, peeling back the skin so the triangles of flesh stood up.

The sweet smell of mango excited her nostrils; the heavy perfume brought back memories of last night, the smell of his sex as she masturbated him, the smell of her own fingers, the taste of his cum ….. it all remained within her. She was on a knife-edge of lust, and she was wet just thinking about it.

As she sliced into the fruit, her hand was shaking so, she was worried she might cut herself. When she’d finished she ran her fingers across her lips, tasting the exotic fruit. Her stomach was a turmoil; it was all building up inside her. She slumped against the table, she licked her lips.

Then, fighting the voices in her head that shouted for her to stop, to wait, to hold back, she stroked her hand down her skirt, feeling the pressure of her hand over her thigh. She lifted the hem slowly, tempting herself, teasing herself, closing her eyes as the lust bore down on her. Her hand moved back up again, over the delicate smoothness of the stockings, the cold of her skin. But just as her finger slid into the wet waterfall of her pussy, a bell rang from upstairs. It was Brad, asking for his breakfast.

She swallowed hard. She picked up the tray. She clipped up the stairs in her high heels, feeling the crisp fabric of her skirt slap against her naked buttocks.

She pushed open the door, and stood there, looking down at her imprisoned lover.

“Breakfast first, or sex first?” she said with a tremulous laugh.

She turned and put the tray on to the low table beside the bed. As she bent over, she knew that her skirt would ride up and reveal her arse. She heard a quiet groan escape from him, and knew that it had the desired effect. When she turned back with the bowl of yoghurt, yes, there was a tent rising under the covers.

She decided to ignore it this time.

“Let me feed you,” she said, sitting primly on the edge of the bed and offering a spoonful to his lips. She put it to his lips and let him swallow.

“Is that nice?” she said, in a motherly voice. She leant forward and wiped his lips with her hand. The hand must have smelled of mango and pussy, for he closed his eyes for a moment, and his cock gave another lurch under the bed-covers.

Her own hand was shaking now. She was so turned on she couldn’t concentrate, and with the next spoonful she let the yoghurt trickle out of his mouth and dribble down on to his chest. Without thinking she leant forward and licked it off, tasting the salt of his sweat and feeling the pounding of his heart.

“You must swallow for nursey,” she said. “You must be a good boy for nursey to feed you.”

Then she had a thought.

“Perhaps you don’t like the spoon. Would you like to lick it off nursey’s fingers?” she said. Then slowly, as before, she ran her hand up her thigh, slipping over the sheer stockings, and pushing the short skirt higher and higher until he could see down on to her dark bush. His eyes were riveted to her hot, wet pussy. She was so turned on, her lips were shiny and proud; she slipped two fingers into the moistness. Then she put those same two fingers into the bowl, pulled out a yoghurt-covered strawberry and slipped it between his lips. He swallowed the strawberry, then sucked hard on her fingers tasting the sweet and the salt together.

“Mmmmmm taste me, Brad, is that nice?”

Brad nodded, his arms still hanging in the air. He looked totally helpless.

“Now for some mango…,” she laughed. Her stomach was in knots now. Her sex was screaming to be touched, to be fingered, to be fucked.

“Lovely ripe mango …” she said, the words almost sticking in her throat. Then she took the soft fruit, peeled back the skin and slid it gently over her pussy. The soft flesh fell apart and adhered to her, mixing her own juices with that of the sweet fruit. The sensation almost made her cry out.

“Do you want to eat some lovely mango?” she whispered, and threw the plates to the floor. Then, kicking off her high heels, she climbed on the bed, and stood above him, lifting her skirt.

“Lick the mango ……” she moaned. “Eat my pussy…..”

She moved over him, offering her pussy to his mouth and watched him struggle and buck as he tried to reach to suck her off. At last she hung on to the bed-pulley above him and thrust her pussy into his face. His tongue twisted and his lips sucked, as he tasted the sweet, sweet mango, and the hot funky smell of her sex. She rode into him. His head was pushed back. He couldn’t move, but his tongue worked and licked and stuck deep inside her.

“Yes, fuck me with your tongue, Brad. Suck me hard!”

She squirmed above him, hanging on, her knees bent. She rubbed her wetness over his tongue, over his lips, over his face. His head was pushed hard against the metal frame as she ground herself against him, fucking his face until at last she felt the explosion coming. She cried out and came all over him, not stopping, not giving him air until her orgasm subsided. Only then did she lean back and look down at him.

“Now I want to fuck!” she growled.

He moaned and closed his eyes. He was a prisoner, chained to the bed, with juice and cum trickling down his face, the bed covers array, his throbbing uncovered cock now wet with precum, stiff and poker-like.

“Mmmmmmmmmm… that’s my boy..,” said his stepmother, moving back and looking down at the sight. She ran her fingertips up his length. “Nice and stiff for nursey….”

She once more lifted her dress and slid down upon him. Ah! That felt so good. She felt the long hot pole slip deep inside her. Enjoying the feeling of his hot, fat cock sliding on the cum and the mango juice. Then she unbuttoned the top of the dress and slipped her hand down inside her brassiere. Yes! That felt good too. Her nipples were stiff and solid like bullets, but tender. As she rolled her finger round it connected with her pussy and her brain screamed out “Fuck him! Fuck him!”

“Aaaaah” she half moaned, half laughed. She leant forward, looked him straight in the eyes, her little prisoner, as she slowly started the upward slide. Slowly upward — slowly downward to start, then moving quicker as the need built up. She stared him straight in the eyes like a wild beast, but eventually, as the mood and the greed took her over, her eyes glazed and he disappeared from her vision. He was just cock now. A hot, fat cock that was slipping and sliding inside her.

She fucked him hard, ramming down on to him. The hot, fat cock pistoned inside her. Again! again! again! …. until he let out a loud groan and she felt him explode and pump seed inside her. Then with her own explosion bigger than anything she had felt before, she orgasmed over him, melting down, the juice and the cum flooding out of her, collapsing over him.

She slumped on to him, running her hands up over his naked torso, setting her lips to his chest, sucking his flesh, while he moaned and rattled the wires and pulleys above him.

VN:F [1.9.20_1166]
Rating: 7.6/10 (10 votes cast)
VN:F [1.9.20_1166]
Rating: +2 (from 2 votes)
Frustrated wife aids bedridden stepson, 7.6 out of 10 based on 10 ratings