I'll confess I was nervous about getting along with my wife's son. I mean, how does a grown man talk with a teen boy? But after spending time with the boy, my concerns vanished. We bonded over mutual interests. . . walking, running, anything to stay fit, really. I don't know when I started fantasizing about him. Maybe it was there from the start, and I didn't want to admit it. I tried to fight my desire for the boy, but it was too strong. Each time he comes to my bed, every time he begs me to tell him a bedtime story, each and every time he touches me. . . I wonder. How could something so wrong feel so right? My cock has never been so stiff. And that sweet ass. . . that bright pink, beautiful tiny hole. . . I've never come so hard. Or so much. Spewing and splattering seed all over Taylor gives me a thrill more intense than fucking his mother. In fact, I hardly every fuck her anymore. Mostly, I fuck him. Her son. And although I tell myself this will be the last time, I know better. So does he. Taylor owns me as surely as I have a hold over him. At least. . . that's how it is in my fantasy.