Fucking My Stepson

A kinky story about a short city break to Modena, a city in the Emilia-Romagna region of northern Italy. Enjoy!

---

I shagged my stepson in Italy. Inevitable really, the sexual tension had been building for months. I blame the prosecco.

Bonding trip to Modena. Richard's idea. 'You two hardly know each other,' he said. 'Forty-eight hours of culture might help.' His treat. His attempt to forge a connection between us...if only he knew what kind of connection we'd forge.

James. Twenty-three. Cambridge University architect undergraduate, rower, handsome, broad shoulders. Richard's son from his first marriage, now my stepson after twelve years of matrimonial tedium.

His dad, my husband, thinks we're off getting cultured. Much needed time away from Addenbrookes hospital where I work as a surgeon. Appreciating frescoes and all that. Stepmother-stepson quality time. If only he knew.

Arrived by taxi. Cheap flights with Ryanair. Knees round your ears and Irish stewardesses flogging scratch cards. Classy.

Richard booked us a family suite at Villa Cavazza. A proper posh converted villa all marble and gold coloured door knobs. His idea of propriety - connected rooms with a shared lounge area. Still playing happy families even with his adult son. The irony wasn't lost on me.

Spotted a young Italian girl, early twenties, in a swanky uniform at the entrance. Name tag says Sofia. She had a small ladder in her stockings that made her look a little trashy. Caught her vaping when our taxi pulled up.

Our eyes met. None of that 'yes madam' shit. Just sizing me up. Like she could see right through me. The driver opened my door. Hot Italian air hit me. She watched my legs as I got out. Saw her notice.

'Benvenuti a Villa Cavazza, signora,' the driver said. Wasn't listening. Sofia's eyes had gone from me to James, then back. That look women give each other. The 'I know what you're up to' look.

Inside all fancy. Modern artwork, high ceilings, German tourists looking German. The usual bollocks.

First night welcome reception. Some local wine festival thing. The villa hosts it monthly for guests. Prosecco flowing. Wore that tight white dress I'd panic-bought a week before departing. Bit young for me but fuck it. No knickers and nude holdups.

Kept watching James across the room. Chatting up some young French woman with architectural waffle. When did my husband's lanky son get fit? Had to be the rowing. Made me need more prosecco.

Sofia appeared with a tray. 'Prosecco, Signora Robinson?' Voice a little rough. Noticed her olive branch tattoo peeking from her stocking top.

'Grazie.' Our fingers touched. Not an accident. Her eyes said as much.

'Is this first time in Modena?'

'Indeed.' Watched James watching her too. The shapely legs. Pert tits. Both of us perving on the same woman. Awkward. Also caught James looking at me, while I was staring at Sofia's arse as she walked away. Our eyes met. Something passed between us. A mutual acknowledgment. Both guilty of the same sin.

Three glasses of prosecco later, found myself in the lift with him. Both slightly pissed.

'Enjoying the view earlier?' he asked. Not accusatory. Amused.

'Yes, I was enjoying.' Smirking now. 'She's fit.'

Lift stopped. Our floor. Neither of us moved.

'You were looking at me too,' I said finally. Pulse quickening.

'Been looking for months.' His voice different. Lower. 'Ever since you wore that black dress to Dad's birthday.'

The dress Richard had barely noticed. Low cut. 'That's inappropriate son,' I said. No conviction in it.

'Extremely.' His eyes dropped to my tits. 'Fucking inappropriate mother.'

Lift doors started to close. He stuck his arm out. Held them open.

'Your call, Sarah.' My name in his mouth. Not Mum. Not even Stepmum. Sarah.

I stepped out. He followed. Close behind. Could feel his breath on my neck.

Family suite. Outer door. Fumbling with the key card. His hand on my lower back. Not where a stepson's hand should be.

'Need help with that?' he murmured, reaching around me. Bodies pressed together as he took the card. Slid it in the slot. Green light. Door open.

Inside. Shared lounge area. Just us. Richard hundreds of miles away in Cambridge. No witnesses except the tasteful Italian artwork on the walls.

'Nightcap?' He suggested. Already at the minibar. Playing host in our suite like he owned the place. Like he owned me.

'Shouldn't.' Didn't move toward my bedroom door.

'Shouldn't do a lot of things.' He poured two G&T's. Handed me one. 'But we want to.'

Our fingers brushed. Electric. Not an accident.

'You're very sure of yourself.' I took a sip. Liquid courage.

'Seen how you look at me when you think Dad's not watching.' He moved closer. 'Same way I look at you.'

'This is mad.' But I didn't step back.

'Completely.' His eyes dropped to my lips again. 'Tell me to stop.'

I didn't.

His mouth on mine. Tentative at first. Testing. Then harder. Hungrier, the glass dropped onto the sofa. Hands in my hair. Not stepmum and stepson now. Just man and woman. Just skin and need and months of looking without touching.

'Fuck,' he breathed against my neck. 'Wanted this forever.'

His hand up my dress. Mine on his cock through his trousers. Hard already. Big. Richard's son. My stepson. Forbidden fruit. Tasted better for it.

His smile promised filth. 'Absolutely.'

---

The morning after...

'Where are my boxers?' He laughed.

'Check under the bed,' I said, fixing my bra clasp. 'Next to the vibrator we shoved there last night.'

Sheets a mess. Damp patches. His Cambridge tie still tied to the bedpost from when I'd secured his wrists.

'Ferrari Museum's on the itinerary today,' James said, studying the little printed schedule Richard had insisted we follow. Meticulous, his father. Everything planned down to the minute. Like surgery. 'Two hours of looking at cars we can't afford.'

'Thrilling,' I said 'Just what the doctor ordered after having her stepson's dick inside her.'

James snorted. 'Jesus, Sarah.'

---

Coach picked us up with other tourists. All German. Tall immaculately dressed, wearing long shorts and trainers. Us looking like we'd been shagging all night. Which we had.

Ferrari Museum all red and sleek. James actually into it, the car enthusiast emerging from under the horndog. Enthusiasm almost endearing. Almost.

He leaned in as we stared at some vintage racing car. 'Sofia was checking out your tits,' he whispered. 'Last night.'

'What?'

'She definitely looked at your tits before she looked at me.'

Thought about it. He was right. Had felt her eyes on me. Not just shock. Appreciation.

'Doesn't mean anything,' I said, not entirely convinced. 'Natural reaction.'

The German tourists moved on. Just us now, pretending to be interested in engine specifications.

'You think she...' I didn't finish the thought.

Put it out of my mind. Ridiculous idea. Focus on being normal tourists for a few hours. Looking at cars. Taking photos. Playing happy families. Like Richard wanted.

We had lunch at the old market near the museum. Pasta with balsamic vinegar. Modena's famous for it.

Under the table, I slipped my heel from my shoe. His legs were there, close to mine. My stockinged foot found his calf. I traced the shape of him through his trousers. His eyes stayed fixed on that menu, but his throat tightened when he swallowed.

My foot inched higher. 'What would Daddy say if he could see his golden boy now?'

'He'd probably have a heart attack,' he muttered, taking a massive gulp of wine.

When I reached his inner thigh, his knife hit the plate. The elderly couple at the next table looked over.

'Terribly sorry,' he said, embarrassed now. 'Bit clumsy today.'

The woman smiled indulgently. Probably thought we were mother and son on a nice holiday.

'He's always been butterfingers,' I said with my most maternal smile. Then, under my breath: 'Except when he's handling other things.'

'Christ,' he whispered, adjusting himself discreetly. 'You're wicked.'

'And you love it.' I sipped my wine.

He nearly choked on his pasta. 'Sarah!'

'Just curious.' I twirled my fork innocently. 'Scientific inquiry. Is it the forbidden aspect? The betrayal? Or just the thrill of someone experienced taking control?... You know a proper stepmum would be taking you to museums,' I mused. 'Not making you come in public places.'

'You're hardly proper,' he countered, recovering slightly.

'No,' I agreed. 'And you're not looking for proper, are you? You want the wicked stepmother from the fairy tales. The one who corrupts the innocent prince.'

I pressed my foot right against him. He froze mid-sentence, jaw slack.

His eyes widened, a perfect mix of shock and arousal.

'Such a naughty stepson,' I continued, applying more pressure.

The waiter glided by. James just stared ahead, utterly speechless.

'Does it feel dirty?' I asked sweetly. 'Letting Mummy make you come in a public place?'

That did it. His breathing hitched -- tiny, desperate gasps as he tried to keep quiet. His head tilted back just slightly, and I felt it -- hot and wet against my foot, soaking through my stocking. Christ. He'd actually done it. Right there in a restaurant with twenty other diners.

I kept my foot pressed against him, watching him shiver through it.

'Fuck me,' he whispered, utterly spent.

'That's for later,' I said, voice barely audible. 'If you're a good boy.'

'I think,' he managed, still trembling, 'we should skip the vinegar tasting.'

'Agree completely,' I said, slipping my shoe back on under the table. 'Think Mummy needs to take you back to the hotel for a proper rest.'

Five minutes into the balsamic vinegar lecture. Ancient Italian man droning on about fermentation processes. Traditional barrels. Ageing techniques. Thirty years to make the good stuff. Felt like thirty years listening to him explain it.

'Bathroom,' I whispered. 'Back in a minute.'

Outside, fresh air. Called the villa. Asked for a taxi. Claimed medical emergency. Not entirely a lie. Felt like I'd die if I didn't get him alone again soon.

Taxi arrived ten minutes later. Texted James: 'Outside. Now.'

He appeared, looking concerned for the benefit of the tour guide. 'My stepmother's unwell,' he explained in his best responsible adult voice. 'Need to get her back to the villa.'

Guide looked dubious. 'The tasting is about to begin...'

'Migraines,' I said, hand to forehead. Drama GCSE finally paying off. 'Terrible. The smell...'

He waved us off. Probably glad to be rid of the odd English couple who couldn't keep their hands off each other.

In the taxi, his mouth on mine the moment the door closed. Driver studiously ignoring us in the rear-view mirror. Italians. Seen it all before.

'What's the plan?' He asked, coming up for air.

'Couple of hours before the tours return. Time to...' His hand under my dress again. Lost my train of thought. '...explore other Italian cultural traditions.'

Back at Villa Cavazza. Suspiciously quick return. Front desk raised eyebrows, but said nothing. That knowing Italian discretion. No wonder they produced Casanova.

Up in the lift. Hands everywhere. Key card fumbled. Inside our suite. Clothes discarded. On the sofa again. No time for the bedroom. His mouth on my neck, my breasts. My legs wrapped around him. Harder this time. More urgent. The thrill of playing truant adding spice.

'Fuck, Sarah,' he groaned into my hair. 'Can't get enough of you.'

'Less talking,' I demanded. 'More fucking.'

Quick, dirty. Both coming hard and fast. Collapsed in a sweaty heap on the sofa.

'Shower,' I suggested after my heart rate returned to something approaching normal. 'Then round two in a proper bed.'

He kissed my neck. 'You go first. I need a minute to recover. Not twenty-three anymore.'

'You're literally twenty-three,' I pointed out.

'Figure of speech,' he grinned. 'Even the young need recovery time after what you just did to me.'

Shower hot and welcome. Washed away the sweat, the balsamic vinegar smell, the Ferrari Museum dust. Hair wrapped in a towel. Body in the villa's fluffy robe. Stepped back into the bedroom.

Froze.

Sofia. Standing by the bed. My suitcase open. Hands in my lingerie. Holding the glass dildo we'd used the night before.

Our eyes met. Her face went tomato red. Caught red-handed.

'I just fix bed, Signora, and your bag was open...' she stammered.

'So naturally you decided to inventory my personal items?' Eyebrow raised. Full consultant mode. 'How enterprising.'

Her accent thickened when panicked. 'I not want...'

'Absolute nonsense,' I cut her off. 'Now what are we going to do with you?' Let the question hang. Power shifted. Control - something I craved after days of having decisions questioned in surgery. Something I needed away from the operating theatre.

James appeared in the doorway, towel around his waist. Me in a robe. Sofia caught snooping.

'Well,' he said after a moment. 'This is interesting.'

Within twenty minutes, we had Sofia spread-eagled on the four-poster bed. Tied with James's tie. Legs forced wide open.

Told her it was 'appropriate consequences' for snooping. Used her own black lace knickers as a gag. Already soaked when I pulled them down her legs. Stuffed them in her mouth. Turned her cursing into desperate whimpers.

Her uniform folded on a chair. Naked except for black stockings with lace tops. Girl was dripping.

Before tying her down, pushed that ribbed vibrator inside her. Spread her open. Made bitchy comment about how obscenely wet she was. Slid the toy deep inside while she tried not to moan. Put silver nipple clamps on her connected by a thin chain. Tight enough to send that perfect pain-pleasure through her. Vibrator remote on the bedside table. Kept changing settings. Made her body jerk against the restraints.

Sofia couldn't look away from us on the chaise. Me riding James. My silver hair wild. Nothing like my uptight surgeon look. Cream silk blouse half unbuttoned. Designer bra pushing my tits up.

Calling the shots. Skirt round my waist. Bare cunt sliding up and down his cock. Making those obscene wet sounds. Stockings and suspender belt framing my arse. Worth every fucking penny.

He was holding my hips, something hesitant in his movements. Not quite finding his rhythm. My thrusts more practiced, fluid. His shirt on the floor. Chest marked with red scratches. Trousers and boxers just pushed down enough. Still dressed like the posh boy he is, even with his cock buried inside me.

This was a young man experiencing something new. He'd whispered, 'I've never... with someone watching before. Guide me?' Sweet, that momentary drop of pretence.

'Let her watch and learn', grinding my hips in tight circles. Taking him all the way in then rising till he almost slipped out. Saw how my authority calmed his nerves, gave him structure.

He looked over, gaining confidence from my lead. 'She looks frustrated as hell. Nipples hard as bullets. Soaking the sheets.'

I smiled without looking back. 'Excellent. Should know what she's missing. Lesson in consequence, delivered with precision.' Slammed down hard on his cock. Made him gasp like he'd been punched. Squeezed my cunt around him.

'Yes, Stepmother,' he whispered, watching my face as I rode him harder. Hands gripping my hips, leaving marks. 'Show her how we handle insubordination.'

'She's learning,' he said as I rode him harder. 'Still can't believe we caught her in your suitcase. What was she looking for?'

Smiled that condescending smile I save for junior doctors who think they know everything. 'Years protecting patient files from medical students. You develop a sixth sense. Finely honed instinct for spotting snoops.' Arched my back, pushing my tits toward him. 'Though doubt she expected to find surgical notes.'

Reached for the remote. Turned the dial. Sofia's body jerked violently. Cunt clenching around the vibrator. Straining against the ties. Muffled scream behind the gag. Vibrator on maximum. Ridges hitting her G-spot. Attachment buzzing on her clit.

'Fascinating reaction,' I observed as her hips bucked helplessly. 'Almost like she's enjoying her punishment. Classic response to intense stimulation. The body betraying the mind.'

He flicked the chain between Sofia's nipple clamps. 'She's so responsive to the smallest touch. Brilliant choice with the clamps, Stepmother. Keeping her constantly aroused.'

Nodded like examining a particularly interesting surgical specimen. 'Constant stimulation of sensitive nerve endings creates heightened awareness. Look how her pupils dilate when we increase tension.' She moaned through her gag. 'Educational, isn't it? Practical application of basic physiology.'

'Think our guest wants to join in,' he said, keeping his posh voice steady despite quickening breath.

'She'll get her chance,' I said, glancing over my shoulder. 'When we decide she's earned it.' Deliberately slowed down. Rising till he almost slipped out before sinking back with excruciating slowness. Made both James and Sofia groan in frustration. Air crackled with their shared frustration.

'Think we've reached critical point in our demonstration,' I said, voice calm despite being turned on as hell. Fixed my clothes with practised efficiency. The surgeon's compartmentalisation taking over - stepping back from intensity to assess clinically. A skill from emergency situations deployed in this unlikely context. 'Perhaps time for the final part of this lesson.'

He nodded, catching his breath as I approached the bed where Sofia was still tied up. 'What did you have in mind for the finale, mother?'

'Think our busy body little maid deserves to learn what happens next,' I said, dropping the doctor act. Body still buzzing from riding James. Skin flushed, hair a mess. 'What do you reckon, darling son?'

'Absolutely. Been watching us like her own private peep show.'

Turned down the vibrator settings just enough so she could think straight. Eyes glassy, skin covered in sweat, nipple clamps still biting into her.

'Listen carefully,' I said to her, refined tone but with an edge. 'You've seen a great deal more than appropriate for a surgeon and her... associate. But then, badness has its charms.' 'Had a thorough examination of our private collection. Only fair you discover how we utilise them.'

Pulled her soaked knickers from her mouth.

'Per favore,' she cried out, voice rough from the gag. 'I swear I not tell nobody about you two...'

'Oh, we're well past that,' I laughed, running a finger along her nipple. 'Question now is whether you wish to be part of the secret, or merely observe it.'

Sofia's eyes looking at me and James, who was standing beside the bed, cock still hard and glistening from being inside me.

'You mean a threesome...' she started.

'Oh yes' I said, untying her wrists and ankles. Left the nipple clamps and vibrator in place. 'And you're free, in a manner of speaking. But we are still, quite firmly, in charge here.' Words a test. Reassertion of my narrative.

'Of course you are,' she replied with a cheeky wink.

She shifted position, her eyes fixed on him like a hungry cat. The vibrator, previously internal, now vibrated against her clit. Constant, a low thrum.

He pulled down his trousers fully. Erection throbbing. Sofia glanced back at me, mixture of nerves and raw excitement in her eyes.

'Now, James,' I began, adjusting my blouse, observing their movements with detached, academic air. 'Let's see if our little guest has truly absorbed her lesson in obedience. Sofia, darling, do remember to be a good girl for James. Wouldn't want to disappoint.'

He knelt behind her. Hand sliding over her hips, still slick from the vibrator. Her back arched as his fingers found her wetness.

'Ready for this, Sofia?' He asked, pushing slightly against her.