Davey was just a skinny, sullen fourteen year old kid when I married his dad. Paul and Davey's mother had split up two years earlier. Paul's side of the story had been that he'd nearly caught his ex cheating on him, but not quite. Still he'd wanted to be out of the relationship for several years by then. He'd stayed because of Davey until the 'cheating' thing happened. The argument had been virulent enough to poison what was left of their relationship and Paul had moved out the next day.

They divorced and the mother had begun dating again right away. Davey made enough innocent but informative comments to his dad during their alternate weekends together to let him know how Karla was living her life then. She'd turned into the bitter slut he had concluded she was. He hadn't wanted to try to get her declared unfit because of the effect a sideshow like that would have on his son. She — and her boyfriends — weren't abusing him, just leaving him to his own devices way too much.

One night, and without warning, Davey showed up on his dad's doorstep. Paul watched as a strange car pulled away from the curb. Then he saw the two suitcases sitting there. Glancing down, he saw that Davey had brought a third bag to the door with him. The boy's face was smudged from crying. "Mom says it's your turn to take care of me for a while," the boy mumbled.

Paul stepped aside without a word and let Davey go past him into the house. He left the door open while he walked to the sidewalk and retrieved the two larger bags. It was clear to him that Davey was moving in. It was just like Karla to do something like this. As he entered the living room his face was bright red — not from the strain of carrying the bags. He was enraged at his ex-wife. "You're always welcome here for as long as you like, Davey. It would have been nice for your mother to give me a little notice, however."

"Yeah, me too. I came home from school and she already had my bags packed. She said she'd call me when she gets back."

"Uh... 'gets back'? Gets back from where?"

"Someplace in Mexico: Santa... something. I didn't really pay attention. I don't care." The volume of voice on the last sentence was so low that Paul told me he could just barely hear it. Davey's despondency broke his heart.

"Hey," Paul said to him, "I don't think I give a shit either." The comment broke through Davey's shell of self pity and when he looked up at his dad's smiling face he grinned too.

Paul took the next day off from work and took care of all the necessary red tape to get Davey transferred to the local middle school. It wasn't until he saw the transcript the old school faxed to the new one that Paul knew how truly poor Davey's grades had become. He'd asked Karla to pass along the report cards, but she couldn't be bothered.

So, Paul became a full time single father. Davey soon showed other effects life with his mother had on him besides poor grades. Paul, being a responsible father, expected his son to do as he was asked. He expected Davey to do his homework, help with the housework and keep his room clean. Paul came home from work one day during that first week to find Davey sprawled on the rec room floor in front of one of his 'kill-em-all' video games. Scattered around the room was evidence of Davey's afternoon fun. His coat and unopened book bag were on the floor where he'd dropped them near the door. Two empty soda cans were on the floor next to where Davey was lying. One of them had toppled and a trickle of darker brown stained the tan carpet.

On the coffee table was an open bag of potato chips, crumbs strewn all over the table. Next to it was an empty frozen dinner tray and a dirty fork. Davey didn't look up when Paul came in. Even after calling him, Davey only grunted. Paul said he was tired from the day's work or he never would have taken it so hard. His anger flared and he crossed the room and snapped off the TV. He was rewarded for his trouble by Davey throwing the control to the floor and jumping up.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the boy screamed into his face. Paul's anger boiled over. He grabbed the boy's arm and dragged him to the couch, he wrestled him over his knee and gave him the first real spanking Paul had ever given him (and probably the first real one Davey had ever had). As his hand rose and fell, he recited to Davey just what his 'sins' had been. By the time he got to the part about screaming and swearing at your parents, Davey's stony exterior had cracked and he was bawling like the proverbial baby.

After that, they had sat together and they both calmed down. Davey wiped his eyes and blew his nose. Paul rubbed his stinging hand on the leg of his pants. The break in Davey's fake toughness wasn't complete, but he at least apologized to Paul. He cleaned up his mess and spent an hour in his room doing homework, even though it was Friday night. Acceding to Paul's demands, he took it to the kitchen for approval. Paul had been cooking and Davey's eyes roamed the room while Paul examined the homework sheet.

He saw a thick broiled steak on a plate near the stove. Also on the plate was a steaming baked potato, oozing with butter and sour cream. His eyes darted around the otherwise empty countertop. There was only one plate. Paul glanced up and saw his son's puzzled expression.

"Uh, Dad? Where's my dinner?" Paul gave him the paper back and told him it was good work.

"Well, you picked that delectable frozen Salisbury steak for your dinner. I'll bet those glue fortified mashed potatoes were just great!"

"What do you mean? That was just a snack."

"No, that was a meal, so it was your dinner. Snacks are things like a few cookies or some chips or a piece of fruit. You had a full meal already. You can fix yourself a bowl of salad if you want, but I only broiled one steak and baked one potato." Davey had a rather large bowl of salad and got the message.

Karla never did come back, as things turned out. She called — collect -- from somewhere in Mexico to tell Paul she was getting married down there and he could have sole custody of their son. "Have the papers drawn up and I'll sign them," she told him. Davey was twelve. All that happened before I entered the picture.

About the time Davey turned thirteen I met Paul at a party at the home of a mutual friend. I'd been through one disastrous marriage myself, so we had that in common. At first we just spent time bitching about our exes. We found ourselves having a surprisingly private conversation in the middle of the loud babble of the party.

He called me the next week and we went out. After that neither of us saw other people, though we didn't consider ourselves a 'couple' yet. That took us another several months of dating — and a few overnight stays at my apartment — to figure out. Davey didn't like me much. When the three of us were together, I tried to be as pleasant toward him as I could, but it had been a long time since I'd been around kids. My much older sister had two kids about his age when I was in high school. They were too close to me in age for me to be any sort of authority figure for them, even though I was their only aunt.

I loved my niece and nephew. In fact, since I was almost seventeen when my nephew turned fourteen, we got pretty close. All right... I gave my nephew my virginity. It was clumsy and painful, but it got the job done, as I saw it. Fortunately I didn't miss a period, not that time or the other four or five times we did it. We never did take any precautions. I haven't seen him much since I graduated and went off to college.

Gradually, as he learned I was going to be around a while, Davey started to come out of his shell around me. I was sitting in the kitchen one night watching Paul make dinner (he loves to cook, and I love to let him!) and enjoying a glass of wine. Davey brought his homework out for Paul to go over. Paul noticed and said, "I can't stop right now, son. Let Ramona check it."

Davey looked at me doubtfully, but handed the three sheets of algebra problems to me. I settled them on the table and started checking. I have a math minor to back up my Economics major. I found a mistake on the third problem. "Davey come look at this," I said. He came and stood next to my chair. I showed him where he'd missed a step and how to do it correctly. Then I noticed another thing. I found two problems where he could have saved some work by taking another path to the solution.

He seemed excited about the new trick. He pulled another chair over and sat down. "There's another one like that. Let me try to do it your way." I watched as he erased his work and started doing it the way I showed him. I glanced over his head to find Paul standing there, stirring something and grinning at me. He winked and turned away. Davey got the problem right and he thanked me profusely. It almost felt like he wanted to hug me, but it was too soon for that — if it was ever to happen at all.

Paul and I got engaged and set a date for the small ceremony. He asked Davey to be his best man. We were married a month after Davey's fourteenth birthday and Then there were three of us living full time in the little house Paul had bought after the divorce. He promised we'd look for something larger as soon as we could.

It was the lack of room in the house that started things between Davey and me. There was only one bathroom and it often got to be a problem what with showers, shaving and all the... usual things. One Saturday afternoon I thought I was alone in the house. I'd seen Davey leave earlier and Paul was out mowing the lawn.

I had my period and I sensed it was 'time for a change'. I was wearing loose shorts because it was warm. I neglected to close the door when I went into the bathroom. I dropped my shorts and panties and squatted there, sighing with relief as my stream poured out of me. I swiped at my crotch and gave the little blood-pinked string a tug. It resisted at first, but it slid out once I got it started. I held it up to look at it and then wrapped it in tissue to toss into the trash. I twisted halfway around (away from the door) to reach the box of tampons I'd left on the toilet tank.

Grabbing a fresh one, I 'peeled' it and rose part way to stand sort of half crouched. My knees were splayed apart and I used my free hand to open my labia for the fresh tampon. I worked the tube up my pussy and managed to get the plastic sheath to release the cotton tampon in the right place. I still don't know if I heard something or only sensed it. I looked up to find Davey standing right in the doorway watching me. My knees let go and I flopped back onto the toilet.

I bent and jerked my shorts up and tried to cover my hairless mound from his sight, but it didn't do a lot of good. "Davey, you really shouldn't stare at me when I'm not dressed." My voice was shaky but it snapped him out of the hormone fogged trance he'd fallen into. His head snapped up and his eyes widened as he realized what he was doing. Then he bolted down the hall and out the front door like a rabbit. I sighed and pulled my clothes up. Well, what the hell, I thought. We're almost family after all. This house is just too damn small! I flushed the toilet and washed my hands.

Davey was shy around me at dinner and I told Paul about the event when we went to bed. He tried to stifle his laughter but it was contagious. We both ended up with our faces stuffed into pillows to keep the noise down. "Did he have a hard on?" Paul asked me.

I slapped his shoulder and frowned at him (though I was still smiling). "You dirty old man! Why would I look at his crotch?"

"He got an eyeful of yours, so it would only be fair after all. Since he did get a look at this little thing [he was cupping my mound] I'll bet he was stiff as a number 2 pencil in his jockeys." Paul let me know he wanted to make love, so I stopped him while I rid myself of the tampon and stuck a towel under my ass. Paul rose above me on his elbows and knees. He lowered his face and kissed me hard. While we kissed, my hand slipped down his belly to where that beautiful, stiff cock of his jutted out. He was a 'stiff pencil' all right. More like a young sapling, oozing with sap. I rubbed his 'sap' around his head before releasing him.

I expected him to slide that stiff prick into me but he surprised me. He moved his face down to my breasts and started lower. "Paul, you know I'm on my period," I whispered.

I felt his humid breath as he replied, "That's okay. It's you who objects to me eating you when you're bleeding, not me." It was true. Something about it was... well, the idea did appeal to a part of me I rarely consulted. But consciously it seemed so dirty, despite how good it felt to me. Paul's face arrived at his destination. Instead of pushing him off as I usually did, I simply surrendered to his desire — and my own. I spread my thighs wide and his hands grabbed hold of them, pushing them higher. Then he blew a stream of air across my heated surface. I shivered but it was cut short by the shock of his tongue delving deep into my bloody slit.

Giving me oral sex is Paul's favorite part of sex. At least that's what he says. I believe it, too, because sometimes I have to beg him to stop eating me and fuck me. That night, just knowing his lips, tongue, cheeks and chin would come away covered with my vaginal blood made the first two of three orgasms that night much stronger. Paul was too excited to require urging that night. After my second climax he again rose over me. He lifted my calves to his shoulders and plunged straight into me without a pause.

That hard stab into me gave me another orgasm and I'm not sure if I stopped the rest of the time he was fucking me. I pulled a pillow to my face again to stifle my groans of pleasure. Paul's face was almost unmarked, except for a small smear of darkness on his chin. When he changed position and leaned down closer I licked it off, tasting the metallic tang of my own blood and pussy juice. He noticed my tongue and realized what I'd done. He pounded me a few more times before he groaned into his orgasm. "Oh, baby," Was all he could say. I was incapable of speech right then.

The next morning life went on as usual. Paul made breakfast and we ate it together. Davey seemed to have adjusted to the shock of seeing me half naked the day before. He didn't seem distant or sullen. In fact he was more pleasant toward me than usual. He had some things to do and left shortly after breakfast. Paul finished his coffee while I cleaned up the kitchen. He's a great cook, but he uses a lot of utensils and pots and stuff.

As I stood at the sink Paul moved up behind me. He cupped my breasts through my robe and kissed the side of my neck. "Do you still have your period?" he asked.

"A little bit. I think you scared it last night," I joked.

"Does it need a little more scaring?" His fingers had located my nipples and he was pinching them, knowing what it does to me. I leaned back against him and moaned. He took my hand and we turned to go to the bedroom.

The previous night we'd been too tired to clean ourselves up. I'd stuck another tampon in and folded the messy towel up, but that was all. My robe and Paul's sweat pants hit the floor and we were off. The strength of my orgasms the night before gave me an idea. I knew Paul was still funky from our performance so I pushed him to his back. His raised eyebrows asked and I answered. "It's my turn to be dirty," I growled as I lowered my mouth to his groin.

Our smells were strong on him. I saw smears of dried blood and semen and... woman, all mixed together. Some was crusted in his pubic hair and some was definitely on his cock. I inhaled, closed my eyes and lowered my mouth to him. It was rank. I knew that on one level. Deeper, though, I knew I wanted to do this and more. I lifted his erect cock and lowered my mouth over it very slowly; teasingly.

He moaned and groaned as I licked him and sucked his velvet prick. In my mind I was reveling at my boldness. I don't know what was making me so horny, but I began really getting into it. I found I was able to take more of his length into my mouth than usual but I stopped just before I gagged. I gradually worked on it and reached a point where I didn't gag so soon. I was almost deep throating him! I'd never been able to do that before. I sucked and licked and even sucked some of the nasty stuff from his wiry hair. He turned me around as if to lick me. Instead, he did the honors on my tampon. The intimacy of that act turned me on more than ever.

He stopped my blow job and pulled me up on top of him. He grabbed my breasts and pinched the nipples hard. A nearly electric shock blasted through me and I felt my pussy ooze. God that turns me on! I moved my hips around until his cock was lined up with my slit. I slid back and forth a few times to make him nice and slick before reaching down between us and positioning him for entry. I wiggled my hips until he started to slide in and I let go of it. I let my weight do most of the work. I wasn't quite as lubricated as the night before so I took a little longer to achieve full insertion.

When I was sitting on his hips I just sort of rocked back and forth, feeling him stirring everything up inside me. I used the kegel exercises I'd read about to give his cock a few squeezes. He grinned and fondled my breasts some more. I played a while. I slid up and down; back and forth. When I slid forward I felt his shaft lightly brush my ass hole. It felt good to me. I changed my position so that I was squatting above him. That way my ass opened farther and it was easier to rub my back door against his shaft.

Paul looked at me a while and then he figured out what I was doing. "Let me do something for you, honey," he said. We rolled sideways and Paul pulled out for a second while he repositioned himself on his knees between my legs while I lay on my side. He shoved his slightly bloody dick back into me and it felt completely different. His penis curves slightly toward his body when he's hard. The change of angle felt every bit as good to me, just different.

Paul put his hand down where we were joined. I felt him slide his thumb into me alongside his cock. Then he pulled it out and used it on my ass. We had discussed anal sex before but I've never let him do it. I usually even stopped him when he tried to put a finger up my butt; and I never had let him lick it, though he cheated a few times when he was licking my pussy. It felt good... sort of. But like eating me when I'm bleeding, it just seems too nasty.

That Sunday morning, though, I didn't try to stop him. It felt very good to have his thick thumb sliding into me. It didn't hurt. It was slick with my juices and entered easily. When he started 'thumb fucking' my ass, he started fucking my pussy vigorously again too. In a few strokes I was shoving my ass back to feel his thumb deep inside me. I started panting and grunting each time he simultaneously plunged his dick and thumb into me. I was lost in the pleasure.

I had no way of knowing it, but my little peep show I'd given Davey the day before had wakened his hormones. That day, with Paul's cock deep in my pussy and his thumb buried in my ass, I grunted and let my eyes blink open for a second. I caught a movement at the window. The curtains weren't completely closed. There was just a narrow slit between them. I closed my eyes to slits so it looked like they were closed. A few seconds later I saw Davey's eye peering through the slit. I was too far gone in pleasure to care. In fact, the thought that popped up in my mind went something like, 'Well if he wants to watch us, let him!'.

Then I dropped over the edge into a hard climax. I wailed out the pleasure as I felt Paul spurting into my pussy. I rolled a little way so I was more on my back than my side. Paul's cock was still inside me but he'd pulled his thumb out of my ass. I knew the position left my legs splayed open, everything in my crotch visible to Davey, should he choose to look. Then Paul adjusted his position and the view was obscured. Way, way in the back of my mind a voice struggled to be heard but it was too faint for me to hear. I felt so sexy and debauched right then I just didn't care that my fourteen year old stepson had just watched us. I didn't mention it to Paul at all.

Paul and I did clean up then. We showered together. Dried and dressed, we went back to our usual Sunday routine: newspaper and another cup of coffee. After a while Davey came in. I glanced his way and found him looking at me. I smiled and went back to the comics. He started through the rec room toward his room. Paul stopped him. "Where have you been bud?"

"Oh, just out back. Kinda just walkin' around." He hadn't stopped, but had only slowed at the question. Seeing he would not be pressed further, he went on into the hall. Paul had set himself a task for the day. He wanted to paint the back screen door and the frame. He left for the hardware store and I straightened up the scattered sections of the newspaper. I didn't hear Davey come in.

"Where'd Dad go?" he asked. I nearly jumped out of my skin!

"Jesus, you scared me!" I yelped at him.

"Sorry. I didn't try to," he said.