MY VIRGIN STEPSONS

MILF know-how!

I clicked off my calming yoga music. My work was completed.

Though I checked out my super shapely arse in my tight lycra leotards in the home bar cabinet mirror as I rolled my mat and stuffed it in the lower display cabinet.

I stretched, enjoying the shape of my recent boob job.

The sunlight through the open French door to the patio reflected on my enormous wedding ring. 

It's recent enough to lift and kiss the delightful gem cluster. 

I thought there was time to luxuriate in the spa with my favourite rabbit vibrator before deciding what to prepare for dinner.

Maybe stuffed chicken.

But first, I'd stuff my own always-ready pussy and needy arse.

Well, prep it for Greg.

I knew as wife number three, married to a corporate executive, either keep his balls milked or don't complain if he strayed.

"You Goddamn, lousy son of a bitch, I saw her first," I heard my stepson Harley scream.

Followed by, and I knew it would be launched fast, "Orrgh, speak for yourself as you always do, you odious, execrable cunt!" replied my younger stepson, Kit, "I spoke to her before you!"

"Oh boy, stuttering and spluttering count since when!" retorted Harley.

"At least I've had a fuckin hand-job. You're a virgin wanker!" fired back Kit.

So here was the baggage I took on with Greg's seven -and half inch, more than decent-sized pecker and a truckload of family trust investments.

The boys! 

Harley, the product of Wife One.

Kit, issue of spouse two. 

I was fine; on the reproduction front, Greg was fifty, beyond wanting more offspring.

Though at forty-four, hell, I looked like under thirty.

The boys needed some juice. I could provide that. No, the boys needed some tension relief. Bugger it, they needed to discharge their pent-up energy!

"Boy, boy, boys," I said calmly as I sauntered into the kitchen, "Sit down and let me squeeze you some juice."

Oh, fuck wanking eighteen and nineteen-year-old virgins, I thought, grabbing a couple of oranges.

Wankers yes.

The evidence I washed their bloody semen-stained sheets and secretion-leaking boxers.

Fuck me, Krakatoa and Vesuvius never ejaculated that amount of spume!

As I juiced a pile of oranges, I asked the boys, "Are you two fighting over the girl who moved in at the top of the cul-de-sac, Faith- Grace!"

Thank God I had two ears as they babbled off together.

Kit said, "Yes, such cute angelic eyes."

Whilst Harley offered, "Pretty as a picture."

Jesus fucking Christ — where had these two gathered such outdated Puritan ideas about girls!

No eighteen-year-old female belongs in a static image, and no senior college girl is a fucking angel!

Though I must admit my stepmom's work was cut out here, with a name like Faith-Grace, and the bloody fucking new Presbyterian Minister in the area, to boot as the nubiles father.

"Boys, I will invite her over, "I said, giving them both a quenching juice.

Harley moaned, "That's not fair; Kit will monopolise her!"

He slammed his thick fist on the bench.

"Orrgh, mum, Harley will moan until you give him what he wants," moaned Kit.

"Boys, boys, boys," I said, patting their thighs as I watched their members stir.

Yeah, I had MILF sexual clout, "Trust your new mum."

Okay, it meant a cringe-worthy afternoon with the Minister, his wife, tea, and scones, but I promised to show and teach Faith-Grace cross-stitch—to primp, plume, and embellish.

I had to rummage through my wardrobe for an outdated knee-to-neck dress and wear a rare Goddamn bra and hide my awesome cleavage. I tied back my long brunette mane and removed my fingernail extension. But the fulfilment would be worth it.

And, I'm no lair.

I had Faith-Grace's immediate and long-term life interests close to my heart.

Kit and Harley were randier than an uncontrollable wet dream when I told them to skip basketball practice and come straight home Wednesday afternoon. Their cute neighbour was invited to their place.

However, I felt like slapping both of their firm backsides as they bickered about the girl; they didn't have the balls to touch.

"Go drill shots when she comes, "said Kit, trying to deter his step-brother.

Harley countered, "Huh, disappear into a crack, you sleazeball."

Thank Christ, as I redirected them, the house had three bathrooms, two upstairs and one downstairs.

Wednesday came soon enough. It rolled around like regular anal sex and steady, consistent titty fucking.

Oh, the cross-stitch. I was actually very proficient as a teenager before I discovered my clit.

I dug out some samples and had Faith-Graces's attention on the longue when the two boys arrived home from college.

I had found out that the delectable blonde, blue-eyed, boob-well-endowered Faith was an evangelical private school girl.

I had a coterie of virgins to cherry pop and dinner to prepare before Greg arrived home.

Yeah, there are subtle sensual college crushes, puppy love dreams, besotted infatuations and pointless ejaculations splattered on bedroom carpets for experienced MILFs to erase when cleaning boys' bedrooms — but nothing beats expediting raunchy naked touch with dirty experienced know-how.

All I had to do was stand up and usher the boys to sit on both sides of Faith-Grace.

Taller, blonde Harley to her right and athletic dark-haired Kit to her left.

As I had told them to rush home, they only had basketball shorts and flimsy tops, which were very easy to remove quickly.

Okay, it was not straightforward.

Holy Moley! A couch full of uninitiated tenderfoots! 

Three youths, my two stepsons and the Minister's daughter sat like they were asexual alabaster statues of saints from my distant Catholic upbringing.

Jesus Christ, I thought, hadn't this pair of dudes ever watched Porn!

Did they think girls only endured rather than craved sex?

I leaned forward and kissed Faith-Grace.

Yeah, okay, so I'm bi.

But by the grace of touch, it appeared Faith embraced the experience.

Her clit must have tingled as her tongue instinctively curved and coiled in a serpentine flex of wetness — greeting my eager tongue and mouth.

Mutual lush mush — heated immediate sensual spitty slush.

'Mmm, mmm, mmm," she managed between chesty, ragged, zesty breaths, and her tongue tip traced the roof of my mouth after I had offered her guidance in the heart-racing technique.

Okay, I nibbled her lips. 

Okay, I pressed my bouncy, springy awesome chest into her spongy, supple nubile boobs.

Together, we caressed in a way guys could never comprehend: a flushed, fluid, full-blooded tangency.

I smooched her neck. I pushed my tongue inside her ear. I sucked her earlobe. Then I cupped her face and let my dark Jezebel eyes and her sea blues penetrate each other—deep, mental, sleazy anticipation.

If she was a goner, so was I.

Oh, I could muti-task as I urged my stepsons to join the action after I undid the buttons on Faith's dress whilst we engaged in rhythmic tongue-to-tongue lust.

"Harley, baby, get your hand under her bra. Kit, her other titty is yours."

As a stepmom, I loved grown boys who do exactly what their new momma tells them!

Her kitty!

Well, she needed a girl's touch first!

Okay, I'm a greedy, needy cow!

"Ooh, my, ooh, ah yes, ooh, ooh, ah yes, ooh," was the Minister's daughter's response as my cocksure, confident and can-do fingers eased aside her cottontails and frisked her private fleecy pelt.

Equally, I admit the 'ahs' emerged from the lad's efforts fumbling around her boobs and manhandling her nipples.

Fine — I realised feminine skill was required here as my fingers slid her soft, silky flaps apart whilst my other hand eased her dress off her shoulders and unclasped her bra.

No time to shake my head, orchestrating the action for four.

My two stepson eyes bulged agog at a sensational set of well-proportioned breasts.

Okay, they were fricking stunning. Glorious jugs. Perfect snuggle puppies. Complete with perky, taut, sweet pink cherry nipples.

"Boys, suck 'em, my babies, lick 'em, spit on them, snog your head into a marshmallow pillow."

I will admit a moment of distraction from sliding my fingers over Faith's sopping hidden labia as I enjoyed two college-aged virgins knead, stroke, cup, fondle, caress, drool spit over, baste nipples with saliva and suck teats like nipples demand.

"Ooh, ooh, yes, oooh, yes, mmm, mmm, mmm," from the Minister's daughter as her eyes glazed.

I eased off the couch, slid Faith-Grace's thighs apart, and eased off her wet white knickers, pushing her dress up towards her navel.

"Sweet Jesus, oh yes, oh yes! Ooh, my Mrs Turner, mmm, mmm, mmm!" she moaned.

The Sweet Jesus, as I fingered her opening between her cute, crinkly, puckered, rumpled girly folds. Her twisted, beautiful pleats of glistening carnation skin were surrounded by a pelt of curly, tufted, sprouting, wild, pubic blondeness.

The developing tart whimpered, the oh yes as I added a second finger, squelching and releasing her inner wetness.

Oh, my name — when my tongue tip hit her clit and flaps with a dedicated and single-minded flurry designed to stir her horny appetite for cock and more cock.

The Minister's daughter didn't know it yet, but she had two bucks to satisfy.

I mean, I could have educated her between her thighs and turned her into a lifelong lesbian.

After pushing my tongue into her furry twat and driving my fingers deep as I sucked up her clithood, I knew Faith-Grace was ready for her first pecker.

"Kit, drop your pants, Harley, you too," I organised them.

The girl's eyes protruded as she confronted two engorged stiff meat packages.

Yeah, Greg had passed on fricking good schlong genes.

Kit had to be close to a massive eight and Harley a tad over the big boy bar.

Caught like a doe in headlights, I directed the lass to hold them both.

"Wrap your finger around each shaft gently and tug."

Oh, she was a natural.

"Yes," I urged, "like that tug, jerk, yank and pull."

Harley and Kit groaned in unison, "Orrgh, oorgh, orrgh!"

Well, guys are simple to please, just treat their dicks as a deity.

"Suck Kit's cock," I instructed Faith.

"Ooh, fuck yeah, fuck yeah! Oh MY GOD!"

That was Harley as I licked his balls and rimmed his arse.

I couldn't subject cute Faith-Grace's mouth to two cocks at this early point.

"Cor, orrgh, oh yes, more, fuck yeah, more, uugh, uugh, uugh."

Now, that was Kit — as the emerging trampette — copied my lead. She was a good learner, rilling Kit's starfish and snogging his balls.

Oh, she was ready for a private Christian college girls sex education as I instructed, "Stick your tongue tip in his arse."

I assumed she did. I busied myself for a minute, delving into Harley's crack.

Still, she merited a gob full of cock, so I ordered, "Kit hold her ears, and Faith suck his pole to the back of your delightful skull."

Of course, I quaffed Harley's monster to my tonsils after a generous wad of spit along its rigid, straining length.

Poor Faith gagged and spluttered a few times, but Kit experiencing his first suck-off, was lost in eager appreciation of any attention to his super-hard cock.

There are nice, boring stepmoms, and there are colluding dirty ones. I had no qualms in swapping meat sticks with the Minister's daughter.

She was entering floozie hussy territory too fast as she spat on Harley's pecker and stuffed her mouth with sausage, and even guided his hands to embrace and cradle her head.

Like a sweet Magdalene — she let him skull-fuck her.

I gave Kit the works. I let him face fuck me too. He got the sloppy special. The sleazy, slick saliva suspension bridge of drool between his cock and my fulsome mummy lips. Gloopy glistening paste shone along the length of his meat truncheon.

Both boys' temples throbbed, their chests heaved, and their groans pitched deep, "Orrgh, oorgh, oorgh."

It was time to pop multiple cherries.

Keeping one college-aged boy occupied can be demanding. Still, I was a super slut MILF and could choreograph two — to drive a virgin miss feral, so she insisted on her de-flowering.

"Kit, lick her pussy, stick your tongue tip in her hole and then after every five delves, twist your tongue tip around her clitty, repeat and repeat."

He hit Faith-Grace at speed.

"Oh fuck yeah, ooh, ooh, ooh," she yelped.

She didn't totter over in excitement because I ordered Harley, "Stick your tongue tip in her arse crack and prod and prod, then spiral your tongue and baste her rilled balloon knot in a lather of copious spit. Get to work, baby!"

Faith-Grace was cooing and whimpering in absolute flesh-saturated delight.

"Oh yeah, oh yes, oh my, fuck, fuck, yeah!" she yelped.

The Jezebel trollop deserved cock.

Kit would be a good fit in her kitten.

Meanwhile, I'd test drive a frickin' super-sized Harley!

"Kit spread her legs over your shoulders on the sofa and poke her hole."

Faith's spread legs reached for the ceiling as one stepson put his meat sword to work.

"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" praised Faith's pretty voice as balls slapped between her thighs and her girly canal squelched in delight.

Experience prefers dogging; besides, I could keep an eye on the pair on the couch.

"Slam your rod between my cheek," I told Harley, spreading my pink goodies.

His stick was a filler. I ground back on his pubic bone.

Still, I wanted the boys to learn to share.

"Kit, sample this! Harley dog Faith!"

Well, the minx flipped her body like an obedient puppy, and Harley rammed his lance into her sopping coochie.

"Hngh! Hngh!" the bitch responded.

Kit stiffness was nicely occupying my tight fanny.

He groaned as I clenched his love muscle.

Faith-Grace, I sensed, was malleable to every mummy call.

"Harley, stick a finger in her crack. Kit, you do the same for me!"

I joined the Minister's daughter, side by side on the longue.

I watched as she got the wet one-finger poked.

"Two fingers with plenty of spit. Up the action, boys!"

Faith-Grace was groaning now.

"Aah! Oof! Aah Oof!"

It turned me on.

"Kit, ease your cock into her tushy! Harley, do the same for me!"

"Raah! Aah! Raah! Aah!"

Faith-Grace enjoyed parting with her anal virginity.

Harley and Kit groaned as they enjoyed constricting cock squeezing in a flesh bottleneck — pecker jammed in an enveloping fem-flesh fissure.

The dudes rammed our girly arses— young and older!

The horndogs buggered our private caves!

The jocks porked our lady chutes with fixated release insistence.

"Uggh! Uggh!" from Faith-Grace.

" Ooh, yeah! Ram me! Slam me! Ooh, yeah! Ooh!" from me.

I watched as the boy's brows tensed and their eyes glazed.

"Faith, on your knees now and open your mouth wide!"

The lass knew how to kneel in prayer and caught every bit of Kit's semen sermon!

Boy, he smeared a wad — over her lips, cheeks and creaming her tongue.

Harley burst his load a few seconds later.

Just in time for mummy to say, " Overload the sweet angel. Paint her face with cum!"

Faith-Grace was bathed, nay, baptised in jizz. Her hair was strewn with cum pearls. Her cheeks were dowsed in baby gravy. Her chin was smeared with man custard. Her mouth was a surfeit of high fructose — Porn Syrup.

Her lips smacked happily with — prick liquid.

"Well, clean yourselves up — three in the upstairs shower — right now!"

And off they scooted.

God, I needed a Chardonnay. 

Oh, I'd go wash between their legs in a few minutes!