Stepsister Seduction Read online

  STEPSISTER SEDUCTION

  Scott Hildreth

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to all of those who ware are capable of seeing beyond what might be in front of their face, and into the depth of a person’s true being.

  Sometimes the one you want is right in front of you. Give him or her a chance, you may be surprised at what you get in return.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  THIS BOOK IS A WORK OF FICTION.

  All of the characters in this book involved in sexual acts are above the ages of 18, and are not in any way blood related. This book depicts the development of a relationship between two people who are not blood related. All sexual intercourse in this book is legal, moral, and without apology.

  COPYRIGHT

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

  STEPSISTER SEDUCTION 1st Edition Copyright © 2015 by Scott Hildreth

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  HARLEY POV

  ONE. When most people leave home for the first time, they undoubtedly become homesick. When I left for college, I was the opposite. I never looked back. The town of 1500 I grew up in was a typical small town in the Midwest, the entire population was worried about what everyone else was doing. Additionally, my mother and I never saw eye-to-eye after the divorce.

  My father left when I was six years old, and whatever separated him from my mother wasn’t exactly something she was comfortable talking about. He, on the other hand, was not only uncomfortable with talking, but unwilling as well.

  I had not seen him since the day he left.

  I realize a parent laying blame in a divorce is a two-way street, but I really wanted to hear my father’s side of the story as I grew older. My mother didn’t particularly have a side. Her lack of openness with me caused us to separate mentally, emotionally, and eventually physically.

  My time away at college was a breath of fresh air, so to speak. The four years away were spent screwing guys - but never getting anywhere in a relationship - drinking beer like a sailor, and attempting to obtain an education. Now remarried and never been happier, my mother was excited to see me for the first time in four years. I wasn’t as eager to see her, her new husband, and certainly not the son of the new husband.

  Kole Mayfield.

  Kole, Kole, he looks like a pole.

  I remember the kids yelling that at him as he walked the streets as a kid. Unless something changed after I left, he was not a very well-liked child. Four years behind me in school, and four years younger than me in age, when he was an eighth grader he was six foot tall and weighed all of a hundred pounds. At the time, I was a senior in high school. It was the last I saw of him.

  His face covered in zits, and his feet six sizes larger than they needed to be, he was a real eye sore. Small towns can prove difficult for an outcast to grow up in, and Kole was no exception. Of all of the people to fall in love with and marry, my mother had to pick Kole’s father, Kevin. I really had no recollection of Kevin or what he looked like; if nothing else the trip home would prove useful in this one respect.

  As I pulled off the highway and along the main street, it felt almost creepy. The entire town, or at least as much as I could see, was exactly the same. The only thing which seemed to change was the price of gasoline, but it was still thirty cents a gallon higher than on the interstate highway.

  Frank Wilson, the city cop, waved as I drove past the gas station.

  Bill Wilson - the town weirdo and no relation to Frank - still walked the streets, and was doing so as I turned onto Mulberry Ave.

  Breathe in, breathe out. It’ll be just fine.

  I rolled my eyes as the line of children walked past in their swim suits, obviously on their way to the local pool; which was a mile and a half from the edge of town. It was a long walk, but the only thing for a local kid to do in the summer.

  329 Mulberry. Here we are.

  As I pulled the car into the driveway of the same home I grew up in, my mother stepped onto the porch. With the front door standing wide open, she stood with her face covered by the palms of her hands. She was either overcome with emotion or acting the part very well. Still appearing young for her age, she looked very happy. Giving birth to me at the ripe old age of eighteen placed her at forty now, and she looked all of thirty-five. Thirty-five and happy for once would be a nice change.

  Be nice Harley. You can do it, just be nice.

  I shoved the gear shift into park and pushed the car door open with my arm. As I stretched my left leg out the car door and stepped onto the surface of the driveway, she let out a whimpering cry.

  “Oh my God Harley, you look like a woman. How was the drive?” she blubbered through her quivering fingers.

  I paused and studied her for a short moment, “I’m twenty-two, mom, of course I look like a woman. Settle down. It was long and exhausting. You look great too.”

  “What’s for dinner?” I said jokingly as I stood in the drive and stretched my arms.

  “Whatever you want. Come give your mother a hug,” she sniffled as she opened her arms.

  As I groaned and reluctantly worked my way to the porch Kevin stepped beside her. I hesitated, forced a smile, and continued walking up the driveway and toward them.

  Compared to his goofy son, Kevin looked rather normal. He was handsome for his age and not overly tall or covered in acne. I looked at him admiringly – happy for my mother – as I took the last step, stopping on the end of the sidewalk and at the edge of the porch.

  A faint voice from the house seeped past them, “Dad, I need cigarettes, I’m out.”

  Must be that bean pole Kole.

  I extended my hand toward Kevin as I stepped up onto the porch, “Nice to see you again.”

  He nodded his head as he shook my hand, “Likewise.”

  I turned toward my mother and opened my arms. As we embraced, I rested my chin against her shoulder and gazed through the open door and inside the house. Everything seemed the same. A few additional pieces of furniture, probably what little Kevin and Kole attributed. As I surveyed the interior of the home and attempted to break my mother’s embrace, Kole stepped through my line of sight.

  My jaw flopped open.

  Holy mother of all things sacred.

  An easy six foot six in height, lean, muscular, blonde, and simply gorgeous; he walked past and down the hallway toward the bathroom and bedrooms. I swallowed heavily. My mother loosened her grip, leaned rearward, and smiled as she studied my appearance.

  “Let’s go in,” I stammered as I nodded my head toward the open door.

  I just want to take another quick glance. That’s all.

  “Yeah, Harley. It’s hot out here,” Kevin agreed as he turned toward the door and patted my mother on the back.

  As I heard his flip-flops on the floor, I craned my neck for a glimpse. Anything. Dressed in shorts and a wife beater, Kole walked past again. As my mother and Kevin turned and walked into the house, I eagerly followed behind them. Kole was sitting on the corner of the couch watching a basketball game. As we walked into the living room, Kevin cleared his throat. Kole turned to face me and stood from his seat.

  “Hey
Kole,” I smiled.

  “You remember Harley?” Kevin asked.

  Kole shook his head from side-to-side as he extended his hand outward, “No, not really. How ya doin?”

  I raised my arm and wiped the drool from my lip with the back of my hand. As his hand cupped mine in the handshake, his palm engulfed my hand entirely. Slightly embarrassed, I looked down at his feet.

  Holy shit.

  I glanced upward.

  Holy shit.

  I smiled and nodded as he released my hand from his grip. The temperature in the room rose fifteen degrees. I felt beads of sweat beginning to form on my brow. I stood and stared like a loon as I wondered if what they said about foot size and hand size in relationship to cock size was true.

  Is the air conditioner broken in this fucking place?

  He stood and grinned.

  Respond, idiot. Jesus, he’s only eighteen.

  Or is he nineteen?

  “Oh, I’m fine. Glad it’s over. College. Long drive,” I stammered.

  I glanced toward my mother and eventually stared blankly, as if she could assist me in gathering my thoughts. She grinned as she hugged Kevin. I smiled in return and shifted my gaze toward Kole. He nodded as he lowered himself onto the edge of the couch. I noticed a large bulge inside the one of the socks which were pulled half way up his calf.

  “What’s that?” I asked as I pointed toward the bulge.

  He glanced toward his father and slowly shifted his gaze to meet mine, “Ankle bracelet. Town cop busted me and I have to wear it while I’m waiting to go to court. Bullshit, if you ask me.”

  Oh Lord.

  He’s hot and he’s a bad boy.

  “It has to be bullshit if Frank was involved,” I agreed.

  “It sure doesn’t change the fact you’re stuck in this house for three weeks,” his father sighed.

  Three weeks, huh?

  Well, that’ll give me time to get to know you a little better, stepbrother.

  HARLEY POV

  TWO. I pointed down at his ankle and tilted my head playfully, “So what happened?”

  “My ex is a bitch,” he shrugged.

  “Want to expand on that?” I grinned.

  It was extremely difficult not to stare at him. Part of the desire to stare was in an effort figure out what exactly happened to him since we had last seen each other. Anyone as gorgeous as him would receive stares, but knowing he was once a repulsive, zit covered, ridiculously obnoxious fool made the transformation into what was sitting before me much more difficult to believe. My other reason for staring was the fact I hadn’t had any luck getting laid in almost a year. As I smiled and waited for a response, I admired his good looks from across the room. He grinned, I assumed at the thought of responding, revealing two almost perfectly symmetrical dimples. He shook his head lightly.

  “Expand? I guess. I choked her. And it’s not what you think. It was sexual. We got in an argument two days later about something, and she turned me in for domestic abuse. The cops flipped it into an assault charge after they saw the marks on her neck and ass. It’s complete bullshit. I saved her texts for two years. I have ‘em all,” he said in an elevated tone as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his shorts.

  I raised my hand slightly, “Oh, I believe you.”

  Holy shit.

  He’s gorgeous, he’s got huge feet, and he likes being rough.

  I’m in heaven.

  As I sat and daydreamed about having him get a fist full of my hair and slap my ass with his huge hand, I began to fade away into mental nothingness. After a few moments of literal sexual bliss, the sound of his voice brought me back to planet earth.

  “So¸ you wanna hand me another beer? Are you gonna put those in the ‘fridge or are we gonna let ‘em get hot?” he asked as he pointed at the beer sitting on the floor between us.

  “Huh?’ I snapped.

  Shit, Harley. You’re drooling again.

  I wiped my mouth and picked up the carton of beer. After pulling two out and handing him one of them, I walked into the kitchen. Ever since I was a small child, I developed a pattern of slobbering when I lost my focus on whatever it was I should be focusing on. If I remained coherent of the events or situations around me, I was fine. If I began to daydream, it was a disaster. Sometimes in middle school, I would come to my senses only to find a puddle of drool on my desk. Now, however, was not a good time to be slobbering. I looked like a damned fool, and although Kole was smoking ass hot, he was my stepbrother; and I could never actually do anything with him.

  Other than dream.

  I opened the refrigerator, slid the beers inside, and dropped my empty bottle into the trash. As I twisted the lid off the bottle I held, I peered into the living room. Kole sat in the chair fidgeting with his ankle bracelet. As he reached down and gripped the device, his biceps flared. I shook my head, blinked, and attempted to remain focused. I raised the beer to my lips and took a long slow drink as I looked over the top of the bottle at Kole.

  He’s eighteen, Harley. He’s not even old enough to drink alcohol.

  My mother and his father had left for the weekend. A trip they had scheduled long before I arrived, a Las Vegas anniversary of sorts. Kevin, it seemed was nothing short of a professional gambler, and made the majority of his money playing poker of some sort. They were married in Vegas, and he often made trips there to gamble. My mother went when she was able, and being an elementary school teacher, she was off work for the summer. It’s almost our anniversary, she bragged as she tried to apologize for leaving. I explained I would enjoy the weekend with Kole, keep him company, and get to know him better.

  I lowered the bottle of beer, hooked my thumb into my belt, and sauntered into the living room.

  Change the subject, Harley.

  “So, you choked her, huh? Like how hard? Like choked her? Or like, well you know?” I asked as I moved the pillows along the back of the couch.

  He shifted his gaze upward, “You ever had a dude choke you while he’s fucking you?”

  I’ve always been one of those people who required a tremendous amount of foreplay to get ready to fuck. Heaven help a man if he ever tried to rape me. It would be like fucking a dry clenched fist. My pussy- regardless of where my mind escaped to - needed a reasonable amount of coercion to become lathered up and ready for insertion. I’ve always been a sexual person, and absolutely loved sex, but my pussy had always been thirty minutes or better behind me. My mind says yes, and my pussy agrees a half hour later.

  Until now.

  As I lowered myself onto the couch cushion, I felt my face become flush. There was no hiding it. It felt as if it were afire. I crossed my legs only to find out my pussy was completely soaked. I lifted my beer, attempted to swallow a few ounces of the cool beverage, and choked on what little dribbled into the wrong pipe. As I coughed and gagged, he continued to gaze my direction and shake his head.

  “Didn’t mean to choke you up,” he chuckled.

  I shook my head, “It’s the beer. It was kind of hot. Didn’t go down well.”

  “I can see that,” he nodded.

  I nodded my head and began to lie, “Yeah, I’ve been choked. Slapped. Ass slapped. You know, basic stuff.”

  “Oh really?” he said under his breath as he stood.

  I looked up and smiled, “Yep.”

  As he slowly walked toward me, I stared at his shorts. Obviously he either had on boxer shorts, or no underwear at all. The swishy basketball shorts he was wearing were doing nothing to hide the fact that he appeared to me attempting to smuggle a large sausage inside. His entire approach included his cock swinging wildly back and forth as he walked. Although I realized the right thing to do would be to turn away, I stared until he walked past me and toward the kitchen.

  Holy shit, he’s hung like a mule.

  “Damn, you guzzled that one. So, she’s you ex now?” I asked as he walked past me and toward the chair.

  “Don’t get to drink very often, so yeah. I like ‘em.
And yeah, she’s my ex. I wouldn’t fuck with that bitch again after what she did,” he said over his shoulder.

  I picked up the remote and pointed it toward the television, “You care if I turn this off and turn on some music?”

  “Go for it,” he nodded.

  I turned off the television, and selected Pandora from the menu. After choosing Ed Sheeran for a station, I pressed play. As the music began to play, I felt fractionally more relaxed. After kicking off his sandals, he propped his feet up onto an ottoman which sat directly in front of his chair. With his knees bent in what seemed to be an uncomfortable angle for relaxing, he began to push against the ottoman with his bare feet. As I watched him struggling, I couldn’t help but notice the leg of his shorts hanging loosely from his thigh. I could see along his inner thigh all the way to his crotch.

  Nothing.

  It’s got to be on the other side.

  I stood from the chair and walked toward the television. In doing so, I walked past his chair. Now within a few feet of the television - and a few feet in front of his ottoman - I turned to face him.

  “So, is this T.V. new?” I asked as I peered into the other leg of his shorts.

  Eight inches of soft cock hung loosely into the right leg of his shorts. Although soft, it appeared to be roughly as big around as my wrist. I swallowed, shifted my gaze to the couch, and walked back to my seat.

  “Yeah,” he nodded as he continued to rock the ottoman back and forth.

  I gazed down at my wrist as I slid the beer bottle between my knees. Now pinching the bottle with my inner knees, I wrapped my thumb and forefinger around my left wrist and did my best to measure what I suspected the girth of his cock would be.

  “So we were talking about choking. You said you liked it,” he breathed as he lifted his bottle of beer.

  “I uhhm. I didn’t say I liked it. I said it’s happened. It’s happened before,” I stammered.

  “So you didn’t like it?” he shrugged.

  “I didn’t say that either,” I responded.