I grip the perfectly tied Windsor knot and tug it down an inch hoping to relieve the choking sensation, but it doesn’t seem to help. Nothing can. My father is dead. My father who I never really got a chance to know and now...I’ll never have the opportunity. The reality of this sinks in more and more as the car I’m riding in brings me closer and closer to the stepmother I’ve never met. She’s rumored to be a gold digging whore who used her tits and ass to land him. I’ve seen pictures of them together and she definitely has the assets needed to sway the world’s most famous bachelor. My dad always did have impeccable taste in women, cars, clothes, and just about anything else you can think of.

I settle into the butter soft leather seat and close my eyes, relaxing into the smooth ride of the limousine. I’ll be meeting my stepmother dearest very soon.

I always imagined that someday my father would want to make me a part of his everyday life. I pictured us playing golf together, going to a Yankees game, running the Rockwell empire or any of the numerous cliche things that fathers and their grown sons do. Now I’ll never know how he really felt about me - his only son - his only child.

Having Geoffrey Rockwell as a father has its benefits for sure. Money was never an issue. My mother and I were always well provided for. He bought us a house in a well to do suburb of Connecticut, close enough to his Greenwich mansion and his New York City penthouse that he could keep an eye on us, but still have the distance he seemed to prefer.  

I was sent to the best all male boarding school money could buy, from the time I was ten years old until now at eighteen. I’m to graduate in less than two months’ time, and right now I’m on spring break. How convenient of dad to pick a school vacation to kick the bucket. A cross between a laugh and a sob leaves me as the thought occurs. I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze hard to stop the urge to cry. I’m not a baby. I’m a man, goddammit, and I need to conduct myself like one. I’ll be under close scrutiny being Geoffrey Rockwell’s only living relative and heir to his empire - unless he left it all to my stepmother.

The limousine slows and my eyes open, glancing around at the scenery. We’ve pulled up in front of large, black gates blocking us from entering the driveway to a large stone mansion. I’ve never been here, but I recognize it as my father’s estate in Greenwich, Connecticut. I’ve seen pictures in magazine spreads. It’s pretty fucked that I’ve only seen it in print. We sit there, the car idling until the gates sweep open, allowing our passage through. The long, wide driveway is lined with well-manicured trees. We pull up to the green front door, and it’s only a minute or two before it opens inward. I hold my breath and wait to see who will appear. Will it be my elusive stepmother? Or will it be one of her paid lackeys who waits on her hand and foot?

I notice the black heeled shoe first and then my eyes journey up from there. And what a fucking journey it is. Her ankle is delicate, her calf, long and leanly muscled. Her dress ends just below her knees, obstructing the view of her amazing legs. The black material hugs the curves of her hips, clearly outlining their shape, before dipping in on each side for her narrow waist. The modest neckline covers her large tits, but any red blooded male can tell just by looking at them, they’re fucking phenomenal. My dick twitches in my pants as I imagine what they’d look like bare. Fuck, I can’t think about my stepmother this way. I shake my head as if I can easily do away with the inappropriate images in my mind. My shaggy brown hair lands in my eyes. I rake my hand through it, gripping it painfully tight for a moment and squeeze my eyes shut. Don’t think about her tits.

She moves closer and closer to the back door of the car, where I’m seated. I panic, my fingers grip the edge of the leather on each side of my legs. I focus on her lips as they part when she speaks to our driver and then flashes him a smile. Christ. Those red lips were made to suck cock. I bet she sucks a mean one. Either that or her pussy is tight as fuck. There has to be something special for my father to have given up his long-standing bachelorhood to marry her.

I’m so hard right now, imaging her on her knees in front of me with her full, red painted lips wrapped around my shaft. Fuck. My breathing picks up speed and I have to squeeze my cock for a moment and push it down. It’s immoral to think of my own stepmother this way. What am I going to do?

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