I was alone in the dorm room when I heard the knock—three soft taps, polite but insistent. My heart dropped. I'd hung the sock on the doorknob out of habit, even though I wasn't with anyone. It was just a reflex from all the times I'd bragged to the guys about "my girlfriend" coming over. The hottest woman any of them had ever seen. Blonde. Massive, perfect tits. Lips so plush they looked sculpted for one purpose.
I yanked the sock off and opened the door.
There she stood—Vanessa. My stepmom. In a thin white sundress that clung to every curve, the late-afternoon sunlight behind her turning the fabric faintly translucent. Her nipples pressed against the cotton like they were trying to escape. She smiled, slow and knowing, holding a care package bag in one manicured hand.
"Hey, sweetheart," she said, voice warm honey. "Thought I'd surprise you."
I tried to play it cool, but my face burned. She stepped inside, hips swaying, the faint scent of vanilla and something darker—jasmine, maybe—trailing after her. She set the bag on my desk, then turned, eyes flicking to the sock still bunched in my fist.
"Company?" she asked, arching a brow.
"No! I—uh—it's nothing."
Her gaze sharpened. She walked closer, the click of her heels deliberate on the cheap linoleum. "The guys in the hall said your girlfriend was visiting. Blonde bombshell. Big tits. Lips that could—" She let the sentence hang, lips curving. "—make a man forget his own name."
My throat went dry. "They… exaggerated."
Vanessa tilted her head, studying me like she was seeing me for the first time. "So it's not true?" She stepped even closer. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. "You've been telling everyone I'm your girlfriend?"
The words stuck. I nodded, miserable.
Instead of anger, something else flickered across her face—surprise, then amusement, then something low and molten. She exhaled, a soft laugh that brushed my cheek.
"Oh, baby," she murmured. "You have no idea what you've started."
She didn't leave. She sat on the edge of my unmade bed, crossing her legs so the dress rode up, revealing smooth, tanned thigh. The room felt smaller. Hotter.
"I used to be wild," she said quietly, eyes locked on mine. "Before your dad. Before all this… domestic bliss." Her tongue touched her lower lip, leaving it glossy. "I did things that would make your little dorm buddies blush for weeks."
My pulse hammered. I couldn't move.
She leaned forward, cleavage spilling forward in a dizzying swell. "I sucked cock in club bathrooms. Let strangers finger me under tables. I loved the way men looked at me when I was on my knees—helpless and powerful at the same time."
The words landed like sparks on dry grass. My cock thickened against my thigh, impossible to hide in sweatpants.
Her gaze dropped to the growing bulge. She didn't smile. She just… watched. Then she stood, slow, and moved toward me until her breasts brushed my chest. The contact was electric.
"You told them these lips were yours," she whispered, thumb tracing my lower lip, then her own. They were impossibly soft, painted deep rose, plump and glistening. "Want to find out if the rumors are true?"
I couldn't speak. She sank to her knees right there on the dorm carpet, dress stretching tight across her ass. Her hands slid up my thighs, nails grazing lightly. When she tugged my waistband down, my cock sprang free—already leaking, flushed dark.
She made a low, approving sound. "Look at you. So hard for your stepmom."
Her breath ghosted over the head, warm and teasing. She didn't touch yet. Just let me feel the heat of her mouth inches away while she looked up, blue eyes wicked.
"Tell me you want it," she said.
"I want it," I rasped.
A slow smile. Then her tongue—flat and wet—licked from base to tip in one long, deliberate stroke. The sensation was blinding. She swirled around the crown, collecting the bead of precum, humming at the taste. Her lips closed over the head, sucking gently, cheeks hollowing just enough to make me groan.
She took me deeper, inch by inch, those legendary lips stretching around my shaft. The inside of her mouth was velvet heat, slick and perfect. She bobbed slowly, saliva coating me, dripping down to my balls. Every time she pulled back, strings of spit connected us, glistening.
I threaded fingers into her blonde hair, not guiding—just holding on. She moaned around me, the vibration shooting straight to my spine. Her free hand cupped my balls, rolling them gently, while the other braced against my thigh.
She pulled off with a wet pop, lips swollen and shiny. "You taste like you've been waiting your whole life for this."
Then she took me to the back of her throat. No gag. Just smooth, tight heat swallowing me whole. Her nose pressed to my pelvis, throat working around the head. She held there, eyes watering slightly, mascara smudging just enough to look ruined in the best way.
When she finally pulled back, gasping, a thick strand of saliva bridged her lips to my cock. She stroked me slow and firm, twisting her wrist, spreading the slickness.
"Cum whenever you need to, baby," she whispered. "I want to taste it."
I lasted maybe another minute. She sensed it—sped up, sucking harder, tongue flicking the underside. My hips jerked. She took me deep again and stayed there as I came, pulsing hot down her throat. She swallowed every drop, throat fluttering, milking me until I was shaking.
When she finally released me, she licked her lips clean, slow and deliberate, then stood. Her dress was rumpled, nipples hard points under the fabric. She pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to my jaw, letting me taste myself on her tongue for just a second.
"This is our little secret now," she murmured against my ear, breath hot. "But next time I visit… maybe we skip the sock."
She picked up her purse, smoothed her hair, and walked out like nothing had happened.
The door clicked shut.
I sank onto the bed, still throbbing, already counting the days until she came back.