Step Stalker - Page 32

Our parents never accepted our relationship and we’ve come to terms with that. Truthfully, I think we’re better off without their negativity in our lives. It took me a while to coax out of Lula the things her mother said to her that night in the bedroom. Forgiving Vanessa would have been impossible for me anyway. She almost lost me the light of my life.

After a few weeks of awkwardness when we moved to base, people here started to accept our relationship, along with the annoyed military brass. I’m not their golden child anymore, which is great, because I never wanted to be. Lula and I are stepsiblings who fell in love, and our new friends are not only used to it five years later, they would defend us to anyone. They adore my wife—rightly so—and she has many champions in her corner.

None bigger than me.

I’m Lula’s number one fan. I marvel over her on a daily basis. While still in school and raising our first child, she started an outdoor meditation business that meets all over Coronado now. At the beach, in the parks, sometimes in our house. They do camping trips, too, of course. And I’m always there, quietly watching her from a distance. As I am now.

Over in the park, Lula takes a sip of lemonade and lies back in the grass, closing her eyes. Stretching her toes. Feeling the nature around her, I know. Communicating with it. Feeling totally uninhibited and comfortable in her perfect skin.

Normally I love to watch her meditate, but at the angle she’s lying, I can see down the top of her shirt to those full titties and my dick stretches the fly of my pants. My groan of her name is loud in the quiet car, my mouth dry with need. There’s always a need for her. It’s incessant. I banged her on the kitchen table this morning before our son and daughter woke up, my hand over her mouth to muffle the screaming, but it wasn’t enough. I need her pussy on a constant basis. I need it now.

She’s been planning this potluck for the last couple of weeks, though, and I can’t just interrupt the damn thing because I’m hard up for a Lula fix. Although it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten impatient and stolen my wife from her friends. They all laugh about it, saying they wish their husbands gave them the same level of attention. They think it’s romantic—and in a lot of ways, I suppose it is. What they don’t know is that sometimes I have to bite down on a leather belt when I’m fucking Lula so I don’t sink my teeth into her precious skin, instead. They don’t know I lie awake at night watching her, counting eyelashes and freckles and breaths. They don’t know I track her phone and beat off to pictures of her in my office.

I’m out of control. I know that.

There’s just no way of reining in this passion for her.

She’s my princess.

The savior who brought me out of the darkness, helped me control the panic attacks and flashbacks. Lula urged me to meet with a therapist and I did—still do—employing a combination of psychology and meditation to feel steadier as a civilian. My therapist doesn’t know about this, though. How I stalk my woman.

How I unzip my pants, as I’m doing now, and slowly slip a hand inside, fisting my erection. Licking my lips at the sight of Lula’s tits. Teasing my cock up and down, imagining it’s her giving little mouth. She loves sucking me off. Especially when I’m in uniform. And now I think of the last time it happened. When we came home from a gala last week and she got down on her knees in that red dress, her matching lipstick smearing on my cock with every hungry suck of her mouth. How she whined and whimpered at the taste of me.

I’m breathing hard in the car now, my hand beginning to move faster.

I’m still watching her, wishing I was on top of that sweet body. Riding it.

My actions pause when she rolls onto her belly in the grass and sends me a pinkie wave.

Loud breaths echo in my ears.

I’ve been caught.

Hell, maybe I wanted to be caught. I barely hid my location.

I hold my breath when Lula stands up and says something to the other women. Then she walks to the far end of the park where way less people are congregated. Where there is no sunshine and dirt instead of grass. Big, towering trees that provide shade.

And cover. For what she’s obviously going to let me do.

Merciful princess.

With my heart rapping loudly in my chest, I drive out of my parking spot and leave the car much closer to where she’s now disappeared. I follow her with my dick huge and heavy in my pants, a single-minded need to fuck, my limp doing nothing to slow me down. Up ahead, I catch a flash of her yellow shirt, tucked into a white skirt, and pick up the pace. I’m aroused and sweating and desperate by the time I reach Lula. Her eyes are sparkling with love, and Jesus, she’s so beautiful it hurts, but there’s no time for flirting or greetings. Nothing.

Tags: Jessa Kane Erotic
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