A new day dawned, the radiant sun guiding its rays through the curtains of our young protagonist's room, a new freshness. The clock, punctual as always, showed 9:32 AM, and with a happiness never before seen, like someone suspended and serving a week of detention, Anton rose from his bed.
With a wide smile, he opened his bedroom curtains, letting the sunlight illuminate his perverted posters, his wall with some suspicious stains, and of course, his floor with some traces of the sweat Rachel had poured out the previous night.
When he realized this, he immediately felt something, a sense of resignation. He walked to his bedroom door, took a deep breath, and opened it.
The hallway seemed shorter than usual; for the first time, he was walking with his head held high. The other rooms he had never even noticed before were Anton's room, Dominguez and Rachel's room, a guest room that shared a wall with theirs, and even a room Anton had never even entered. Taking advantage of his radiant moment, he walked to the room. A white door, unlike the others, a strong smell of cleanliness, an odor of lavender wafting through the door, along with a sound, a noise as if something robotic were struggling inside, when he finally opened the door.
The place seemed like an off-center part of the house, a room without any aesthetic care, the floor without flooring, just beaten cement, and the same goes for the walls. At most, there were some cables crisscrossing from wall to wall with some clothes hanging, still damp, but thanks to the light coming from a window, the sun would dry them.
The washing machine was running at full steam, trembling and causing various noises that echoed through the corridors of the entire house, thanks to the door Anton had left open. His face no longer showed its radiant smile, but remained in ecstasy.
"This room seems to have good acoustics..." the young man remarked, with an analytical tone in his voice.
Anton decides to return to the hallway, now calmer, or at least with more deliberate actions. He walks, his heavy body pulling him down.
At the beginning of the hallway, right next to the kitchen counter, was the door leading to the exit. In the strange silence of the house, Anton realized he was alone. Solitude had never been a problem for the young man, but this was with his old self.
He even found it strange; a discomfort that hadn't existed before took hold of his heart as he made his way to the largest room in the house, the living room. Located parallel to the kitchen, with its rather large sofa, and the main television, at that moment some news reports were showing about robberies that had been stopped by some "masked vigilantes"—that's how they were being reported. A guy like Anton already knew who they were: the heroes he so admired.
He would never forget the day a man dressed in green passed by him, and right behind him was "Arachne" in a leotard suit. Many admired the design, but Anton only felt discomfort with how the suit behaved against the wearer's body.
Following the present day, Anton seemed to be melting on the sofa as boredom took over his brain. A question arose, a question that would become the core of his life and would always return to torment him.
"Can I be a hero?"
While he was internally questioning himself, a prominent creaking sound came from the door to his left, through which someone might enter his residence. Without showing much concern, Anton continued with his attention scattered.
"Again...apparently these Mutanties...are mutants...interesting, there's an angel, one that looks like a giant primate...my god," he continued to question himself based on the news he saw on television.
"Anton..." A voice called his name, and when the young man realized it, he became quite excited again. There was the redhead who had so stirred his most perverse side, the most beautiful woman he had ever met, her hair tied in a ponytail, a few small strands falling over her face, but nothing that prevented those beautiful emerald eyes from showing their radiance when observed. For Anton it was clear, he and she were alone all day, that sculpted body, those two immense pairs of flesh, one on top, the other more hidden, on her backside.
But Anton set a goal, just to touch one of those pairs. His goal would be complete if he could get Rachel to use her breasts to give him pleasure, and perhaps he had the necessary tricks to do so.
"Hello, good morning Rachel!" He approached with a smile, his large body an arm's length away from the mature beauty of the radiant woman, who was focused on making lunch. Rachel's mind was still reeling from the previous night's anxiety; she tried to hide it, but it was visible. She kept replaying the erotic kiss with her stepson, remembering their tongues dancing together, perfectly synchronized; her heart raced, perhaps with guilt. Perhaps not.
Rachel tried to distract herself with her household chores until she felt a chill near her groin, a wandering hand, a hand full of malice. The hand slowly moved up her left leg, her body frozen.
"An...Anton! Stop!" She tried to stop him, but the man—no, the man before her—was enveloped in an enormous willpower; his body told him to continue, and his hand kept getting closer to her waist, where the cave of his greatest objective resided. Perhaps it shouldn't have been the right moment, but he was audacious.
"SMACK"
With a strong slap, a response befitting his audacity, Rachel defended herself. Already breathless before him, slightly sweaty, literally sweating cold. With a look filled with confusion, she stared intently at the boy, but the opposite happened...
Instead of feeling threatened by her, after the slap in the face, he felt an inexplicable pleasure. He felt it was the right moment; he sensed that after this, perhaps he could change something else. For some reason, he knew what she felt.
"Has the connection gotten stronger?" Anton wondered. Could this be the second stage of his ability? He had become almost a telepath, in a more selective and laborious way than the leader of the "X-Men," for example.
He could feel the pleasure she denied, so for a moment he was out of control. His body produced hormones incessantly; his organ was already beginning to appear, visible even under the layers of clothing he wore. And with that, he continued his advances. The clock showed 11:12 in the morning.
With that mix of feelings, she ended up stumbling while trying to escape the boy's attack, but her trembling legs prevented her. When her buttocks hit the ground, the boy's face was close, too close. Their eyes met, the young man's hand found her breasts, and while he gently pressed them, his tongue stretched out to try to reach her lips, and in turn, the other tongue that was in the room.
"I...MUST...FIGHT AGAINST THIS!!!" Rachel repeated, as if it were a mantra to herself, not to lose her reason. The problem is this hidden desire to do wrong, something that was never with her, something that arose recently, perhaps even the work of Anton himself, without him even knowing it.
As the man positioned his completely out-of-shape body above the woman's torso, slowly massaging her breasts with his thick hands, which seemed to sink into those large pieces of flesh, Anton understood why his father had chosen this woman. For Anton, there was no other reason; after all, a man like him who didn't love his own son wouldn't be capable of loving anyone.
When the clock struck 11:15 in the morning, their lips met again, this time on the dirty kitchen floor. Their bodies moved more than usual. This time, Anton couldn't activate his ability immediately, which made him freeze a little, but thanks to the moment, he maintained his composure and his dominant position in the scene unfolding before his eyes.
Rachel's eyes began to show tears, her face flushed to the point of exhaustion. When Anton took a step back, he realized it wasn't just his mouth that was having fun; Rachel's lips and tongue seemed to keep pulling him back. This fact made him think of more perverse things than any other day of his life; his body was going through a wave of shock.
And finally, after 5 minutes of kissing the beautiful muse, he decided to try to remove the green blouse she was wearing. She even held his hand at first, but with all that fervor, she ended up just accepting this burden.
"Okay, I'll do it, but please...don't tell your father anything," she pleaded, breathing heavily. The lipstick she had applied earlier to go buy lunch was completely smudged, and her hair, now messy, had many strands falling across her face. Her teary green eyes seemed full of tiny stars thanks to the reflection of the weak sunlight.
She slowly stood up, while Anton watched her closely, very closely. She became nervous and reconsidered her libidinous acts.
"This...is wrong...Anton, what do you think about stopping here?" "You're right... I think I understand," he replied, but he didn't stop there. Attempting to appeal to her weakness, he simply used the stories he'd read so much to alleviate his feelings, saying, "You just don't want to because of my grotesque appearance, don't you?"
This tactic worked very well in the stories he read, but not in this one. She simply maintained her opposing stance, making him back down a little. And when the clock struck 12:30, they were both having lunch, but separately—she in the kitchen, and Anton in the bedroom, without internet and with a problem between his legs. He had gotten so close; he wondered how he had connected with her without even using saliva.
The connection was similar, but unilateral. He could hear her; he tried to respond, but it was no use.
The connection was similar, but unilateral. He could hear her; he tried to respond, but it was no use.
The redhead questioned, in a melancholic tone, you could sense a hesitation, as well as a need not to do it. Then Anton, realizing that he wouldn't get very far this way, ended up agreeing.
"You're right... I think I understand," he replied, but he didn't stop there. He then chose to use a notebook he kept to write down all the details he had discovered about his own ability. Compiling all the information from the first time he demonstrated it against Rachel, to the last moment in the kitchen.
In short, he understood that initially he needed to get the target to ingest some bodily fluid. He didn't know the limit of this, or if there was any difference if the ingested liquid was different from the other. Furthermore, he decided to divide it into "connective stages" to try and theorize why his connection occurred without saliva exchange, and he also made a question very clear: Why hadn't he been able to activate his ability at the moment of the kiss? Was it a blockage? Was it unconscious? He himself didn't know, so let's just continue...
As the moon began to rise on the horizon, and the sun bid farewell to that day, the boy decided to go to the bathroom. He left his room, walked to the door parallel to the laundry room, and relieved himself. The bathroom was the most cramped place in the house; it barely fit one person in the shower stall, which was even attached to the toilet, making some showers more disgusting than they should have been. Finally, he calmly pressed the button to flush.
As Anton opened the door to leave, he noticed the laundry room door was slightly ajar. Curious, he decided to go inside. And to no one's surprise, there she was, Rachel, in another change of clothes, quite casual for the cold. She was taking clothes off the clothesline. Anton, without realizing it, had already chosen a path: to change his life at all costs, and his obstacle was Rachel. She could easily ruin everything. He didn't want to be a laughingstock, penniless, so for that, he needed his father to never even suspect that he and his stepmother had kissed. Until now, this had only been a thought for Anton, but the connection was activated again.
"I need to talk to Dominguez...today!" Anton heard directly from Rachel's mind, so it certainly wasn't a lie; her face also confirmed it. Anton's eyes widened, and as if there were no tomorrow, he waited.
Yes, he waited, thought, and devised a strategy... when the clock was about to strike 7:00 PM, Rachel closed the door to her "makeshift laundry room." She then went to her room to put away some of the clothes—some of Dominguez's, Anton's, and her own t-shirts, along with some underwear.
"The smell...of cleanliness..." she thought, looking at one of the underwear items. "What is this? Where did this come from...I...I can't think about this...can I?" she seemed to be arguing with herself, lost in thought again.
"Just once...I can, right?" she questioned herself again, picking up a pair of Anton's underwear, but almost in shock, she dropped it. "No, this is disgusting! He's old enough to be my son..."
Anton was under the bed, just listening to everything. He began to think about Rachel's internal mental battle; could this be what was blocking his progress? How could he get through this if Rachel herself seemed to be arguing with herself?
But then he decided to move. In the blink of an eye, there he was, beside the bed, out of Rachel's field of vision, looking at and admiring the beautiful backside of the woman who had slapped his face. When Rachel noticed, she didn't even have time to think. And there, in a completely unexpected movement, the third kiss between them happened.
---7:08 PM---
*Slurp*
The kiss was wet, much more so than before. Anton was taking the lead, while struggling to activate his ability. Some internal moans were also audible.
*Nnnnh*
Rachel was still in an internal duel; whenever she seemed to lose, she found a way to break it. Anton couldn't establish a connection like before; his hands were tied. Without his powers, he had to try something different. As the two sat on Dominguez's bed, their wet lips seemed to want to suck the essence from each other, the muscles of their mouths already perfectly synchronized, the redhead's hair was already loose, her eyes were closed, and she seemed to want to succumb to desire, even if it meant betraying the trust of the man she loved.
"I...no...I want...but" - Anton heard, the voice arriving as a direct return from their connection.
Anton pulled away, no matter how much Rachel tried to stop him, and in the end he shouted while looking directly into the redhead's eyes.
"You want to, don't you? I can feel it, you can too...you think I don't know? You have this crazy urge to have sex, I know...and I also know why you have it...tell me, when was the last time you and Dominguez had sex?" - He asked in a very offensive way, but it reached Rachel.
"The last time...was 4 months ago..." she replied, realizing how sidelined she was being. "But that doesn't matter," she said before being interrupted.
"I can see it in your eyes, you want...you want it so much you can't even hide it, stand up!" the young man ordered, but his response was:
"Of course not—" interrupted again, the boy's voice was solid and well-projected.
"Do you want me to tell him what you and I did yesterday?" the audacious young man inquired, adding, "Or perhaps what we did today would be more interesting to him."
Silence lasted for a few seconds until Rachel, completely out of any escape route, stood up, just as the young man ordered. And at that moment, Rachel would begin what would be her complete downfall.
Rachel's mind was under control; there were no more conflicts, so Anton managed to use the remaining saliva she had just ingested to connect.
"You look at me and feel what?" he asked the woman's trance-ridden mind.
"Shame, fear, desire..." He heard the answer loud and clear, and finally completed his plan by imposing a "new order."
"Whenever you see me, you will feel desire, you've always felt that, haven't you?"
"Yes... I've always... desired..." With her mind completely distorted, her ideas were being altered; the last spark of resistance to the boy's ability was extinguished by the last tear that remained in her still-watery eyes, because of their previous kiss.
When Rachel returns from her trance, she remembers everything and still maintains a stable demeanor, but when Anton raises his voice slightly, Rachel's body trembles, her legs shake, her breasts tingle, and her lower body begins to feel damp.
"Rachel, tell me what you're going to offer me to keep my mouth shut?" Anton asked again, with a mischievous smile on his face.
The woman, her body on the verge of collapse, thinks of various ways to get out of this situation, but the strong desire, the heat, makes her kneel near the edge of the bed, while removing her red bra with black lace, thus revealing her already hardened nipples.
"Wow! What a naughty girl you are," Anton reacts with a soft laugh at the situation.
"No...that's not it..." Rachel tries to answer, but she stops and reassesses her position, her torso bare, both her breasts exposed, and her hands holding them in the ideal position for Anton to feel them.
"Just accept it...you're very naughty...you whore." That last word struck Rachel directly at her core, and tears began to stream from her eyes.
"Now, using your own hands, unzip my pants," the young man orders once more, feeling on top of the world. However, observing her, it was clear that doubt still surrounded her, so, in an act of desperation to avoid being left wanting again, he does it himself, revealing his warm member to her once more.
She looked at the young man's member with a completely different gaze than before; it was as if someone had given her a long-awaited gift, and finally, when she felt the heat emanating from it, the blood that made it pulse, she ended up moving her hands on her own, up and down. The rhythm drove Anton crazy; she was skillful. Her soft hands then separated, one remaining on his member, maintaining the movement, while the other caressed Anton's testicles.
*NNNh*
The idea of actually becoming a prostitute flashed through Rachel's mind quickly. After all, if she could feel this every single day, she would be happy. Her eyes again resembled the starry sky, but now with pure happiness.
When Rachel was approaching with her body, to use her breasts, Anton forcefully placed his index finger in front of her face. And simply incited her.
"If you come here every night, I might consider letting you touch my cock... what do you think?"
For some reason, everything on Rachel's mind revolved around sex; her lips twisted until they completely enveloped his index finger.
*Shruuulp*
An obscene sound, the result of the woman's uncontrollable tongue circling his finger as she sucked on it. The sound was loud, saliva being the main culprit, but just seeing Rachel's face, Anton felt his sexuality surge to its peak.
Her lips were protruding; she was sucking on the young man's index finger like a child with a lollipop. Anton decided to pull her finger away, making her release it.
*pop*
The finger came out all wet, leaving her face completely obscene. Her heavy breathing further accentuated how sexy her expression was. The fact that her tongue was visible was also something to note. All this, coming from that woman who is always desired, made Anton feel how lucky he was.
---07:34PM---
On the edge of the bed lay Anton, his legs spread to facilitate Rachel's entry. Rachel used her incredibly soft breasts to engulf his penis in a Spanish kiss, her nipples hardened, the softness—it was all too much for Anton, who was already near his limit since she had sucked his finger a little earlier.
In a swift movement, Rachel began to move her breasts; the heat generated intensified Anton's pleasure even more, and in a few seconds Anton reached his climax, his thick fluid painting his angelic face.
The last image Anton saw was of this "angel" with his sperm covering her face, a calm and attentive smile, green eyes full of happiness, and completely disheveled hair. The figure of beauty was now lost in a world of perversions.
"Creeeak"
The door opened, footsteps were heard, and finally...
"knock knock"
"Rachel, darling, I'm home early today!" That was Domínguez's voice, about to open the door.
"Wait! Don't come in!" she interrupted him with a shout.
"What is it? Did something happen?"
"No...nothing, I just cleaned the room, I'll wait about 5 minutes before coming in, I just bleached the floor." And for the first time, there was Rachel looking for the most absurd excuses to get out of this situation, without remorse, just following her instincts and desires.
Dominguez then went to take a shower before returning to the room, and the moment he came out of the bathroom, he found Anton and Rachel laughing together.
"What a surprise...seeing you two talking? You two got closer?" he asked with a certain excited tone, as if he wanted to tease them.
"No, not at all, it's nothing like that, I just ended up telling Rachel a joke and she thought it was hilarious," Anton replied immediately.
Dominguez simply turned around and went to the room, and *whoosh* he closed the door.
"So from today on, this is our little secret...did you hear?" Anton stated, while his left hand massaged Rachel's buttocks, who only listened with a smile on her face, still flushed from the obscene acts recently committed.
"You're a very naughty woman," Anton finished, before turning his body towards his room, but then he heard very quietly.
"And I can be so much more than that"—her voice muffled, yet still angelic and perverse. She was no longer the stepmother who craved her attention, as she once had been.
And so ended the first day of her internet-free confinement in her own home.
To be continued...