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Stepmom's Midnight Visitor - Fantasy
Stepmother's mouth slightly parted. The kind of deep, honest rest you only get when you think the house is empty. It isn't. He's been watching her for weeks. The stepson nobody notices, standing in doorways, learning the rhythm of her breath. Tonight he found the device that makes him unseen. Tonight he doesn't have to watch anymore. He climbs onto the mattress slowly, one knee at a time, careful not to shift the weight of her rest. She stirs. Her hips roll, a lazy, dreaming kind of motion. He reads it as permission. His hands travel first, tracing the curve of her waist beneath the thin cotton, feeling her skin rise into goosebumps even as she drifts deeper. He parts her thighs and settles between them, and she never opens her eyes. Every soft moan that escapes her lips sounds like she thinks it's just a dream. He takes her slowly at first, letting her body answer for her. Her back arches off the mattress. Her fingers grip the sheets.
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