Step-Son’s Revenge: 1

Kitchen Counter Claim💦🫦

“Get your hands off me, Jake.”

I tried to sound stern but my voice came out breathy as my stepson pinned me against the kitchen counter. The house was empty except for us. His dad, my husband, was away on another business trip. Jake knew it. He always knew.

He smirked down at me, one hand on my hip, the other braced beside my head. “Why? You’ve been teasing me for months, Mum. Parading around in these tight little shorts while Dad’s gone.”

My heart hammered. Jake was twenty-two, tall and built from years of gym and street fights, with tattoos snaking up his arms and a scar on his jaw that made him look dangerous. His dark eyes burned into mine. “I’m not your mum. Not really. And this is wrong.”

“Feels pretty fucking right to me.” He pressed closer. I could feel how hard he was against my stomach. “You married my asshole dad for what? Money? Security? Bet he doesn’t fuck you like you need.”

Heat flooded my face. I pushed at his chest but my fingers lingered on the hard muscle there. “Jake, stop. We can’t do this.”

His hand slid under my tank top, rough palm gliding over my bare skin. “Tell me you don’t get wet thinking about me. Tell me you don’t touch yourself at night imagining my cock instead of his.”

I bit my lip. My nipples tightened under the thin fabric. “You’re my husband’s son. This is fucked up.”

“Step-son,” he corrected, voice low and rough. He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “And you love how fucked up it is. Don’t you, Mummy?”

A shiver ran through me. I hated how much that word affected me when he said it. His hand moved higher, cupping my breast, thumb brushing my nipple. I gasped.

“Jake…”

“Say it,” he demanded, pinching lightly. “Say you want your bad boy step-son to ruin you.”

I closed my eyes, breathing fast. “I… I shouldn’t.”

“But you do.” He kissed my neck, sucking hard enough to mark me. His other hand pushed my shorts down my hips. They dropped to the floor. I was bare underneath.

“Look at you,” he growled, fingers sliding between my legs. “Soaking wet already. For me.”

I moaned as two fingers pushed inside me. My knees buckled. Jake held me up, fucking me with his fingers right there in the kitchen where his father ate breakfast every morning.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered. “Dad must not be hitting it right.”

“Shut up about your dad,” I gasped, rocking against his hand. My body betrayed me completely. I gripped his shoulders, nails digging in.

Jake chuckled darkly. “Jealous? Good. I want you thinking about me every time he touches you.”

He dropped to his knees suddenly and shoved my legs apart. His mouth attacked my pussy like he was starving. Tongue licking broad stripes, then sucking my clit hard.

“Oh god, Jake!” I cried out, hand flying to his hair. I pulled him closer, grinding against his face. He groaned into me, the vibration making me shake.

“You taste so good, Mummy.” He looked up at me, lips shiny. “Better than I imagined all those nights jerking off thinking about you.”

I should have pushed him away. Instead I held him there, riding his tongue. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He added his fingers again, curling them while sucking my clit. My thighs trembled. The pressure built fast.

“I’m gonna come,” I whimpered. “Jake, I’m coming!”

He didn’t let up. I came hard, moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear if they were close. My pussy clenched around his fingers, juices coating his chin.

Jake stood up, kissing me deep so I could taste myself. His hands lifted me onto the counter. I wrapped my legs around him as he freed his cock. Thick, long, and rock hard.

“Look what you do to me,” he said, rubbing the head against my slick folds. “Been hard for you since the wedding.”

I stared down at it, breathing heavy. “It’s so big.”

“Big enough to ruin this married pussy.” He pushed in slowly, stretching me open. I moaned loudly, head falling back.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, sinking deeper. “Taking your step-son’s cock so well.”

I clawed at his back as he bottomed out. Full. So full. “Move, Jake. Fuck me.”

He did. Hard, deep thrusts that made the counter shake. Dishes rattled. I held onto him, moaning with every slam.

“Tell me how much you love it,” he demanded, pounding me. “Tell me you love cheating on Dad with me.”

“I love it,” I gasped. “I love your cock. Harder, baby. Fuck Mummy harder.”

Jake growled and gave it to me. Brutal strokes that hit deep. His balls slapped against me. Sweat slicked our skin.

“You’re mine now,” he said between thrusts. “Not his. Mine.”

“Yes,” I cried. Another orgasm built fast. “Yours. I’m yours.”

He reached between us, rubbing my clit. “Come again. Come on your step-son’s dick.”

I shattered. Screaming his name, pussy milking him tight. Jake fucked me through it, then pulled out and stroked himself.

“Open your mouth.”

I did. He came with a groan, thick ropes landing on my tongue, my tits, my face. I swallowed what I could, feeling dirty and alive.

We panted together. He rested his forehead against mine.

“Best fucking thing I’ve done,” he muttered.

But then his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at it and his face changed.

“What is it?” I asked, still catching my breath, cum dripping down my chest.

Jake showed me the screen—a text from his dad.

Dad: Coming home early. Be there in two hours. Missed you both.

My stomach dropped. Jake looked at me, eyes dark with something dangerous.

“Two hours to clean up and decide how we’re doing this from now on, Mummy. Because I’m not stopping. Not ever.”

I stared at him, heart racing, pussy still throbbing from his cock, his cum drying on my skin.

What the hell had I just done? And why did I already want more?