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"Hi Susan! It's so nice of you to call. How are the kids? Wonderful! Yes, mine are a handful, too. Joe just started school. . . What have you been up to?"
Oh, Susan. Sometimes I totally forget we aren't simply two ladies talking on the phone. I forget I used to be your fiance. Months go by where I never even think about it. But when I do my clit swells and my panties soak through immediately.
"Oh. . .How nice, Susan. . . mmmhmm."
The kids have left for school and your dad has gone to play golf. I'm the woman of the house and there's a lot to be done while they are away to keep our little nest comfortable. Mommy has errands to run. That's right. Giggle. I had just showered, slipped into my yoga pants, put on some makeup, and came to the kitchen to prep my shopping list. Then the phone rang and I rummaged through my purse to take your call.
If you could only see me now, sitting down at the kitchen table alone. I'm scooting the chair back. I'm lifting my feet one at a time to the table. Legs high. Now spread eagle. My hand slipping beneath the tight waste of my yoga pants, into my panties, delighting in your naivety to what a bimbo your ex-fiance has become.
Yes. Keep talking, Susan. If you only knew. Yes, yes, yes! You make your step mommy so wet. So horny. Keep talking.
I remember waking up every morning next to you. Those gray days. Both of us worked in the city. I would shower first, then you would step in while I got ready. We barely had time for anything but coffee, a quick good morning, and a hectic goodbye out the door. My days were spent doing actuarial work in a cube farm, programming complex computer systems and algorithms, churning my productivity away for some corporate behemoth. Can you imagine? The thought of doing that ever again makes my nipples soft. I look at my new kitten calendar on the fridge and think of all those wasted days.
Now it's the 14th. That must be why I'm so horny. I've reached the middle of my cycle. The next five days are highlighted in pink. That's right. Your step-momma needs to warm up for her real job.
"Yes. . . "
Those gray days with you are gone. Tomorrow's a pink day. I'll wake up next to your father, his morning wood poking into my huge ass. By the time you've made it to the office we'll just be waking up. I'll lift my nightshirt and shift my hips to be taken. You may have settled on one kid but I'm going to milk my fertile years for what they are worth. My body grows more mature, curvy, refined with each birth. Cold corporate productivity has been replaced with innocent and thrilling reproductivity. Your dad isn't complaining. He enjoys the work. He's good at it. My toes curl thinking about him slipping in. Feeling my legs spread, a thick cock, right where it belongs - inside of me - pushing in and out of me, knowing that any moment it will fire its load and lock me into another nine months of pregnancy. It really is harrowing. Like looking down the barrel of the gun. I'm addicted to it. I wait for the signs that he is close, the signal to wrap my legs around him and hold on. I long for the sensation of hot cum shooting into my pussy after a good fuck. My reward. Knocked up. Barefoot. Pregnant.
There's nothing more satisfying than being bred.
"I see."
I sit the phone down on the table. I need more room to work. I slip my yoga pants off my plump ass. I can hear your voice chattering on as I stand up to let my pants and panties fall. There. Much better. I take the phone and sit down, my ass quickly adjusting to the cold wooden chair, consuming it, warming it with it's undeniable thickness. My pussy is soaking wet. Glimmering in the sunlight pouring through the kitchen window. I return my hand to it, delighting in the mature folds between my thighs that give me more pleasure than a cock ever could.
Mama enjoys her mornings alone.
"Oh. Sorry, Susan. I got a little distracted. Oh! 'What have I been doing?'"
I've been warming up, Susan I want to say it. I want to press the video icon on my phone and show you. God, I can barely think straight. You had to ask that question, didn't you?
"Well, Susan. Actually. Your dad made a huge mess this morning."
I'm close.
"And since he was in a rush to get to the golf course, I had to clean all of it up."
Mmm.
"All of it. . ."
Oh, fuck!
"Yes, Susan. I agree. I ask the same question. 'Why are men so messy?'"
I'm a female. I'm your step mom. I'm a total bimbo. Because I want to be. Because this is who I am. This is the biggest mess I've ever made and I cannot stop. Words swirl through my head, taunting and enthralling me as I think about working hard flesh between my bulging tits. About how much I love to clean up.
Mother. Wife. Slut.
"Oh well. I don't mind. I took care of it. All a part of being a good wife. I'm used to it. Plus I'm good at it."
Bimbo. MILF. Swallow. Spread. Enter. Pregnant...
"Susan, hold on one second."
Come.