On the Run , in Hiding with Stepmom

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This is a Winter Holidays 2017 contest story. As if your vote is my applause, please vote.

There are no underage characters in this story. All characters portrayed are over the age of 18-years-old.

On the Run & in Hiding with Stepmom

Stepmother and stepson do an unthinkable thing. They take the money and run.

This isn’t your typical stepmother and stepson story of pornography with sex, sex, and more sex. This is my erotic literature version with character development, dialogue, imagery, description, plot, and tension, as well as sex, of why a stepmother would have sex with her stepson. As we all know, stepsons don’t need a reason to want to have sex with their stepmothers. Stepmothers have long been surrogate mothers and unwilling victims of their stepsons’ sexual attention.

Especially if a stepmother is tall, sexy, shapely, and beautiful, as Emma is in this story, and especially if the father is no longer in the picture, she’s ripe for the sexual seduction and/or groping of her stepson. Yet, it takes a little more for a woman to cross the line of what is deemed incestuous sex between a stepmother and her stepson. Most women need to be romanced. Most women just don’t want sex. It takes longer to get women in the mood. Yet, if only men would take the time, women would give men more sex than they could handle.

I apologize for the long introduction but this is my writing style. If you don’t like this introduction you may skip it and continue to read the rest the story. If you don’t like my writing style and/or don’t like me, then don’t read my story. That’s your choice.

Author’s Warning:

Dear Reader,

If you’re reading this warning, then consider yourself warned. This story is rated XXX, the highest, sexually explicit rating under Literotica’s incest, story guidelines.

For those who enjoy reading incest stories, trust me, an incestuous story doesn’t get any better than this story. This is one for the books. A true story that really happened, this is an incestuous story between a stepmother and her stepson that you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

For those who don’t believe that this is and XXX rated story, after you’re done reading this story and after you’re done masturbating yourself, consider me saying, “Duh? I told you so.” If you are offended by XXX rated stories and/or by incest, please read another story.

For those who are sensitive to inappropriate, sexual situations, and/or incestuous sex, I must confess and am embarrassed to report that there is graphic, explicit, and shockingly inappropriate, albeit consensual sex between a 24-year-old stepson and his 38-year-old stepmother. Albeit not blood related, they still live in the same household and under the same roof, thereby deeming whatever sexual relationship they have as incestuous.

For those who don’t approve of this sort of incestuous story, being that it’s impossible to continue to read the story with your eyes closed, perhaps you could enlist someone to read the story to you. Perhaps, instead of reading the story yourself, you could ask your mother, your sister, your mother-in-law, your sister-in-law, or ideally, your stepmother to read the story to you while you masturbate yourself.

Taking it as a personal compliment that you thoroughly enjoyed reading my story, I encourage you to masturbate yourself and hopefully cum while reading my story. Then, using your other hand, your clean hand, of course, as if your vote is my applause, all that I ask in return for your masturbation pleasure in reading my story is the support of your vote. Please vote and please add me to your list of favorite authors.

Being that this is a Winter Holidays contest story, please vote. Please give me the support of your vote.


* * * * *

Shall we begin reading my story that I wrote expressly for your reading enjoyment and sexual pleasure?

“Are you ready? Here we go.”

Imagine this scene with me, if you will. It’s Christmas Eve, the night before Christmas and it’s cold, frosty cold, and windy. Feeling like it’s going to snow, it’s the kind of damp, bone chilling cold, that penetrates your soul. It’s the kind of cold that makes you reject cold beer for a bowl of hot, beef stew.

To make the weather worse, depending on who you are and where you are, it just started snowing. Everyone’s dream but for those who have to go to work the next day, Christmas Day, it’s going to be a white Christmas. The children are going to awaken to presents beneath the Christmas tree and snow to try out their new sleds.

You’re on your way home from last-minute Christmas shopping but then stop to run an errand. As soon as you pull in the driveway, with everything so eerily quiet, you sense there’s something not right. As if seeing a ghost or feeling the heaviness of evil in the air, the hairs on your arms stand, and you know that there’s something so tragically wrong. You look around and there in the distance, your worst fears are materialized.

Think about it, what would you do if you happened upon a crime scene gaziantep escortları where everyone was dead, and no one saw you? No one knew that you were even there. What would you do? Would you call the police? Or not wanting to get involved, as most people wouldn’t want to be involved to be questioned, interrogated, and accused of a crime while having to testify against others in court, would you leave without calling the police? Or, feeling guilty while thinking that there may have been someone who survived, was still alive, and clinging to life, would you leave and then anonymously call the police?

“Think about it. It’s your call and it’s your decision to make. What would you do?”

‘Tick tock, tick tock…’

“No rush and no pressure but I need a decision. Hurry, before the police come, what would you do?”

Now wait. Hold on. Let’s spice this up a bit and sweeten the pot by adding a new dimension to the crime scene, shall we?

“Are you ready?”

What if there was unprotected and unsecured money just waiting for someone to claim it, scoop it up, take it, and leave with it. With your financial problems solved in one fell swoop, imagine all the things you could buy and all the bills you could pay. Without anyone ever knowing that you were ever there and without anyone knowing that you took the money, be honest, tell me the truth, would you take the money and run?

“Yeah, baby. Free money. Now we’re talkin’. Right? Money is everyone’s inspiration, motivation, and temptation. C’mon, take it. It’s free. It’s free money. I dare you to take the money. I double dare you to take the money. Once you claim the money and once you walk away with it in the darkness of night, it’s no longer someone else’s money. It’s now your money. You’re rich.”

Those who were here to rob the money as well as those who were here to protect the money are all dead. With no one knowing you were here and that you took the money, no one will ever know that it was you who took the money. There’s no witnesses to you just helping yourself to the money. If you need justification in taking the money, think of taking the money as a public service…your act of selflessness against littering. There. Do you feel better about taking the money now that you cleaned the area of all of that dirty money?

Being that we’re back to the same, original question, now, what would you do? Would you call the police? Would you leave without calling the police and without taking the money? Would you take the money, leave, and then call the police? Or, as I would do, something that I dare write is what most people would do, why wouldn’t you just take the money and run?

“Think about it. It’s your call and it’s your decision to make. What would you do? Trust me, any priest will listen to your confession and tell you that God will forgive you for taking the money, especially when you generously and anonymously donated one-hundred-thousand-dollars to the church.”

…and you were thinking about not taking the money, weren’t you? That would have been dumb, wouldn’t it? I knew you weren’t that stupid.

“Thank you for your generous donation. For you penance, say 10 Hail Mary’s,” said the priest who was already on the phone with the Bishop.

‘Tick tock, tick tock…’

“No rush and no pressure but I need a decision. Hurry, before the police arrive, what would you do?”

Now, wait a minute. Hold on. Allow me to be more specific. Instead of just a little money, what if there was a lot of money? What if there was more money than you had ever seen in your miserable, credit card indebted, hardworking, and never getting ahead life while driving a 13-year-old, shit box of a car that needed tires? With you about to lose your underwater, second mortgaged house that you can no longer afford to continue to pay the blood sucking bank, why wouldn’t you take the money and run?

“Yeah, now we’re talkin’. Think about it. Now, what would you do? Would you take the money and run? I would. Without a doubt and without a second thought, I definitely would take the money and run.”

However, not so fast. Keep in mind, of course, that a million dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills weighs 22-pounds. Twenty-two pounds may not sound like a lot to carry, especially when you lug way more than that carrying in groceries for your three, hungry kids after working your two, crappy, part-time jobs that don’t have any benefits. In the scheme of things, twenty-two pounds is nothing. A box of produce that you unpack at the supermarket where you work weighs more than that.

Yet, what if there were mega millions of dollars, lottery type of money. What if there were 100’s, 50’s, 20’s, 10’s, 5’s, and 1’s all in cash, just waiting for you to pick it up, take it, and bring it home? What if there was enough money to change your life…forever? Now, what would you do? Seriously. Especially if there was no one there to see you taking the money, wouldn’t you take the money and run? I would and you should too.

Only, you’d need a car, of course, gaziantep eskort a big car. With all that money, you’d need a pickup truck, a Lincoln Navigator, or a Lincoln Town Car, the extended wheelbase version that has 7 more inches of legroom in back, of course. You’d need something to put the money in too. A brief case or a duffle bag would hardly be big enough to fit all that money. You’d need not just one but two huge steamer trunks on wheels to fit and transport that kind of very, heavy money.

With this getting a little more complicated, now what would you do? Would you take the money? Would you take the money or would you leave the money for, perhaps, someone else to take the money? Think about it. Just between me, you, and the lamppost, with no one else ever knowing that you were even there and that you took the money, what would you do?

No pressure and no rush but what would you do? What would you do? Hurry. What would you do?

‘Tick tock, tick tock…’

“Again, no rush and no pressure but I need a decision. The cops are coming soon. What would you do? Tell me, what would you do? For God’s sakes, don’t quibble. With this an opportunity of a lifetime, what the fuck would you do?”

Now, just for some much-needed pressured motivation, think about this. Forget about Bill Cosby, Harvey Weinstein, James Toback, and Kevin Spacey, just as they have their own problems, you have your own problems too, don’t you? What if your whole life was about to turn to shit after the sexual relationship you’ve been having with your mother, your sister, your daughter, your mother-in-law, your sister-in-law, your wife’s best friend, and/or your next-door neighbor was about to be exposed? What if you needed money, lots of money, to leave the country and move to Cuba, a country without an extradition treaty, to lay low while on a beach while drinking pina coladas and flirting with beautiful, bikini clad women?

As my friendly warning to you, the least that I can do is to give you my words of caution, don’t drink the water. Have your drinks made with bottled water, never drink or brush your teeth with tap water, and don’t leave any unattended valuables in your room. Just as the police won’t protect you, the military won’t come to your aid either. This isn’t the United States. You’re all alone and on your own in Cuba…Gringo.

Perhaps, a better hiding spot to lay low until all of this blows over is somewhere in the middle of America. Have you ever been to Kansas? Between the cattle and the corn, I’m sure you could find a desolate farmhouse to hide all of that money. Kansas is a beautiful state. Kansas has a lot to offer someone’s who’s rich. Kansas is the backdrop of the Wizard of Oz and where Dorothy used to live with Toto while wearing her ruby slippers.

“I wish I was back in Kansas. I wish I was back in Kansas,” she said as she clicked her slippers together. “I wish I was back in Kansas.”

Well, now, here you are, your wish has come true. You’re in Kansas. Yeah, Kansas may be a better place to lay low than Cuba, especially with all that money. At least you’re still in the good ol’ USA and can still drink the water. Moreover, the residents of Kansas, Kansans, as they’re called, speak your language, English. Now, who wants some barbeque?

“Now, what would you do? Why wouldn’t you take the money and run…to live in Kansas? Think about it. What would you do?”

Hey asshole, what’s your problem? Why the indecision? Are you kidding me? Your life is shit. You have a junk box of an old car. You’re about to lose your house and can no longer afford to pay your mortgage. You’re about to lose your job because your boss is an asshole who hates you. Your mother, daughter, mother-in-law, sister-in-law, wife’s best friend, and your next-door neighbor are all out to get their pound of flesh after you told them that they were the only one and that you loved them. Take the frigging money.

Wishing you were dead or wishing you could get a divorce to marry Vanna White, Sofia Vergara, or Jennifer Lopez, your wife grew fat, old, and ugly. Your children don’t appreciate all that you’ve sacrificed and done for them. In the way that 34-year-old Justin frigging Verlander just married 25-year-old supermodel, Kate Upton, you don’t have a woman in your life who’s tall, blonde, beautiful, and blue-eyed with 36D cup, natural breasts. Do you? You don’t have a beautiful woman who loves you and who’s willing to have sex with you. Do you? Why? Because you don’t have any frigging money, that’s why.


Yeah, think about that while you’re thinking about not taking the money. Just think about that. All of that could change with money, a lot of money. With all that money, even you, you ugly son-of-a-bitch could have a beautiful, sexy, and shapely broad on your arm, a woman with a big frigging brain in her head to help you and guide you through life.

“Well, hello, Mr. Moneybags, even though you’re short, fat, and ugly, for some obscure reason, I find your very attractive. I’m Susan. Susan Jill Parker. What’s gaziantep eskort bayan your name? And…how much money in cash did you say you had?”

See? What did I tell you? Money is the magic elixir. Money allows you to get any woman you want. You still don’t believe me? Allow me to prove it to you.

Think of Donald Trump with Melania. I know. It makes my skin crawl too. If that’s not disgusting enough, think of Billy Joel with supermodel Christie Brinkley, Ric Ocasek of the Cars with supermodel Paulina, and Mick Jagger with supermodel Jerry Hall. Wait. There’s more.

Think of Seal with supermodel Heidi Klum, Heidi frigging Klum, and Rod Stewart with any woman, never mind all of the beautiful women that he’s bedded. Think of Gene Simmons of Kiss with Shannon Tweed. Are you kidding me? What in the Hell did Shannon Tweed see in Gene Simmons? Come close to the screen so that I don’t have to yell.

“Money! Shannon Tweed knew that Gene Simmons was mega-rich. That’s why she married his cheating ass.”

Larry frigging King has been married 7 frigging times to 7 beautiful women. Ugly, skinny, suspender and eyeglass wearing Larry King. Are you kidding me? Give me a break. Why? Because he has money. He’s loaded. Didn’t you see him sitting front row center at the World Series in $6,000 seats next to Mary Hart?

“Money! It’s all about money. The more money you have the more women you’ll have.”

Simon frigging Cowell has had sex with more than two-thousand women because he’s worth more than five-hundred-million-dollars. Disgusting. Ugly Howard Sterns, scary Steven Segal, and Frankenstein look-a-like, Quentin Tarantino, are chick magnets because they have money. Gross. Think of billionaire J. Howard Marshall with Anna Nicole Smith. Think of Hugh Hefner with all of those Playboy Playmates. Think of Harvey Weinstein and/or Bill Cosby with any woman beautiful, ugly, forced, or sleeping.

“See? It’s all about the money. What did I tell you? Forget about being a player, you need money just to get in the game.”

Now, let’s paint the real picture why you should take the money and run, shall we? Your wife is about to find out that you’ve been having incestuous sex with your mother, your sister, and your daughter. Your wife is about to find out that you’ve been having a forbidden, sexual affair with your mother-in-law and your sister-in-law. Your wife is about to find out that you’ve been having an inappropriate, sexual relationship with her best friend and your next-door neighbor. If identifying you as a pervert, an incestuous pervert, isn’t enough than I don’t know what is.

“Now, what would you do? Would you take the money and run? Think about it. What would you do? This the chance to get away from your short, fat, ugly shrew of a wife. This your chance to hook up with someone as tall, sexy, young, and beautiful as Kate Upton. This is your chance to run away with Susan Jill Parker and move to Kansas.”

‘Tick tock, tick tock…’

“No rush and no pressure but I need a decision. What would you do?”

The true story below is about what 38-year-old Emma Capizzi and her 24-year-old stepson, Anthony, did when confronted by that very situation.

* * * * *

On the Run & in Hiding with Stepmom

It was Christmas Eve, and not how someone would spend their Christmas Eve, five, very bad and desperately, dangerous men were locked, loaded, and staying quiet while hiding behind huge mounds of gravel in the dark. Not exactly knowing when they’d come but knowing that they’d soon appear, Billy Sullivan, his brother Ritchie, his cousin Sean Connelly, and their best, childhood friends Brian O’Hara and Micky Coyle were waiting for the Brink’s armored truck to arrive. Living just a mile away, all five men were from the public housing projects in Charlestown, Massachusetts, the armored car robbery capital of America.

Just as they were aware that the police and the FBI would immediately identify who to look for, they knew the police and the FBI would come looking for them with a search warrant. Yet, by the time the police and FBI discovered and examined the crime scene before searching the projects for them as their prime suspects, they’d be gone, long gone. They’d be out of the country and living life large in Cuba.

“Buenos dias. Good morning. Buenas tardes. Good afternoon. Buenas noches. Good evening,” said Brian while practicing his Spanish with is best friends, Sean and Micky.

With Cuba still not a friend of America, especially with President Trump in office, the United States had no extradition treaty with Cuba. Cuba would not return any American fugitives. Safe from being returned to the US, they had a seemingly perfect plan. After robbing the Brink’s armored car, they weren’t sticking around and waiting to be arrested. A smart move on their part, they were going to take the money and run.

Once taking the Brink’s’ employees by surprise, a simple in and out, and hit and run robbery, they weren’t expecting any trouble. They weren’t expecting any gunplay but, just in case, a precaution on their part, armed and dangerous, all five men were prepared for any situation should things go sideways. Ready to take innocent lives than to lose their own lives, they were ready if gunplay happened. Willing to do anything for the money, rather kill than to be killed, they had no problem with killing anyone who got in their way. There weren’t going to be any heroes, not today.

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