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- Nov 22, 2025
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While Dad was busy most of the time at his luxurious attorney's office, and I hardly saw him for more than a few minutes at a time, Mom was ALWAYS there for me. She didn't only cook my meals, do my laundry, and clean my room, but also helped with homework, dressed my wounds when I got hurt, and was my best friend. I was heartbroken watching her cry endlessly into her pillow, refusing to get out of the house to a restaurant or a movie. This complicated situation made me feel hatred toward my father, which I harbored for a long time.
I still recall Dad attempting to explain his misbehavior to me, "Son, you are young, so you don't understand it now, but one day you'll find out that a man's physical needs go beyond a single woman. Your mother is a good wife, and has always tried to accommodate my urges, but she is no longer young, and a healthy guy gets tempted by younger flesh."
I tried to reason with him, "But Dad, Mom is 5 years younger than you."
He laughed, "True, but age affects her more than me."
Mother was never a centerfold beauty, but she wasn't ugly either, and Dad's words stung like 10 wasps. I didn't bother answering, yet I hoped that god would someday punish him.
They got a divorce 9 months later, and my father moved from our house to another part of town.
...
In the years that followed, I finished college, and with 2 friends developed a software that helped identify certain diseases based on a sophisticated analysis. we got several offers, and in the end, sold it to GE for $10,000,000. With part of the money, we began working on another project, which would improve flight safety. Now, 15 months later, 2 American airline companies show interest and have invested $2,000,000 each. With my future in business going well, I purchased a house in a nice neighborhood.
During all these years, I managed to spend some time with Mom, and teach her how to use a computer. She loved reading articles about food and fashion, but, after multiple times I insisted, she agreed to search for a potential mate on Match.com.
In my free time, I still love playing tennis with a couple of regulars I've met at the health club, and 3 times a week, I exercise on various machines for 2 hours at a time.
Since starting college, I've dated 4 girls, each for 5 to 12 months. Every girl I went out with was pretty in her own way and had an athletic body. You can say I was lucky, but I looked at it differently: At 6'0", 180 pounds, muscular body, with dark hair and eyes, and being described as handsome by the ladies I dated, I thought of myself as a catch. The fact that, despite my young age, I was already a self-made millionaire was a bonus.
My sex life was going well too. With my first girlfriend I was shy. She had prior experience and taught me about foreplay, how to find erogenous areas on a woman's body, and a couple of sex positions. I was doing better with my second, and soon found out that she was more adventurous. She liked more risqué situations, like doing it on an open balcony, 'accidentally' exposing her breasts in public, and once even a threesome, having her best friend join us in bed. I liked our intimate escapades, but we separated when her whole family moved to England. The next girlfriend was shy in the beginning. However, shortly after we began dating, her initial hesitance changed dramatically, and she let me establish all the rules during our intimate moments. She turned out to be submissive, and with her, I experienced my first anal, as well as B&D. The 4th girl was a redhead who was smart and funny, that I first saw at a party with friends. Her personality captured my imagination, and I started dating her. She was great in bed, but after a month, I found out that she was using hard drugs, including cocaine. I attempted to convince her to stop using, went with her to sessions, and even took her to the hospital when she accidentally overdosed, but she didn't quit, so I bailed out.
...
One day, I noticed among my mail an envelope from my father. It was unusual: After finding out about his cheating and the divorce from my mother, my relationship with him was never good. In fact, except for a congratulatory card on my birthday and the occasional meetings at relatives' homes at times of special occasions, we rarely had any contact.
I opened the envelope and saw a card, inviting me to Dad's wedding. Despite never seeing her, I recognized the spouse's name: Samantha. She was my father's secretary, with whom he cheated on Mom. I knew he didn't invite Mom to the wedding and debated for days whether to attend or not. Finally, I chose to go. I still had strong feelings against my cheating father, but elected to show SOME respect. I didn't tell Mom about Dad's getting married, letting him decide whether to tell. Why should I give her the news which might aggravate her dispirited mood?
The wedding was celebrated in a large hall at a luxury hotel. There were about 100 guests, most of whom were Dad's colleagues and employees. I arrived late, and saw the couple surrounded by well wishers. I sat at one of the side tables, waiting for the right time to congratulate the couple. Twenty minutes later, as I was sitting having a beer, Samantha came to speak with a guest at the adjacent table. This was the first time I got a close up look at her. She had a pretty face with large blue eyes, long blonde hair, button nose, and reddish, full lips. Her figure was more difficult to assess due to her fancy dress, but I thought it was VERY acceptable. She chatted with the other guy for a while and laughed with him, revealing cute smile and commercially-white, unblemished teeth. Yes, she looked very attractive.
As I was ogling her, I heard my father saying, "Hi Julian, thanks for showing up. Let me introduce to you my future wife, Sam."
I stood up as he brought her to my table, "Honey, that is my son, Julian."
Her eyes explored me up and down, and she grinned, "Joe, I knew you had a young son, but I had no idea he was such a handsome one."
I smiled, "Thanks for the compliment, but I think that if there is anybody in this room who's worth ogling at, it's YOU!"
She came close, hugged me, and whispered in my ear, "I didn't compliment you. I said what I really think. Please come and visit us." Her ample tits pressed against me, and I felt my penis start to stir.
As she relaxed her hug, Dad said, "Darling, my son is not only handsome. He is successful in business and a good tennis player."
She giggled, "That is nice to know. Joe, remember I told you I wanted to take tennis lessons? Well, if Julian has some free time, he may teach me, for money, of course."
Dad gazed at me. I said, "I helped a few guys with their tennis moves, but I am not a certified instructor. I'll do my best if you are still interested, but if I were you, I would have chosen somebody who will do it by the book."
"I don't care for a stranger, and have no plans to become a professional player, so if you could spare some time for me, I'd rather have you..."
"Ma'am, go back to your guests and enjoy your happy day. After the wedding, if you are still interested, call me, and we'll discuss how to proceed."
"Thank you." She smiled one more time, folded her hand with Dad's, and left.
I stayed during the ceremony, ate a couple of chicken wings, saw the newlywed couple dance briefly, and left.
...
A month later, Samantha phoned me, "Hi, Julian. Your father and I just returned from our honeymoon trip abroad. We had some issues, but the destinations we visited were worth it. Anyway, your Dad said that since we were married now, I shouldn't continue working as his secretary and stay at home. So all of a sudden I'll have plenty of free time, and I thought of going to yoga classes and start learning tennis. Is your offer still stands?"
"Samantha, I never go back on my word. If you are interested having me as your instructor, I'll be happy to oblige, but we'll have to establish a plan based on my job schedule."
She giggled, "First, I wish you'd call me Sam. And second, as I mentioned before, I can adjust my time to yours."
"Have you ever attempted to play tennis, paddleball, or ping pong?"
"As a 6 years old, my father played with me once on the beach for 15 minutes, but that was all."
"In that case, we'll begin with the very basics: Learn about the tennis court, the ball, and the racket, including the proper way to hold it. My preference is to do it in my yard. My property has a private tennis court. I love the game and frequently play on it with friends."
"Terrific! This means that we won't have to wait for others to finish before getting onto the court."
"Exactly. Can you be here Thursday at 4 pm wearing shorts or a short skirt with a breathable, short sleeved blouse and sneakers?"
"Tomorrow, I'll go and buy everything at Target."
"When you are there, better buy also a racket. I suggest a lighter one, which weighs around 270 grams, and see that the grip feels good in your hand. A simple Wilson racket is a good option, and it costs less than $20."
Her laugh was joyful, "I think I can afford it."
"OK, see you on Thursday at 4 o'clock.
...
Sam was at my door at 4:10 pm, claiming it was hard to find my house. I didn't understand why because it was well marked, but I decided to let it go. The main reason was her appearance: She wore an Ivory Ribbed Knit Ruffle Hem Minidress, and when she moved, it was apparent she was braless... Her body was to die for: Perfectly shaped smooth legs, a narrow waist, and either C or D cup breasts, which swayed from side to side with each step.
Sam entered the house with a racket in her hand, having a broad smile, and was totally oblivious to the impression she made on me. My penis started rising.
She said, "I hope I bought the right racket. The seller recommended it."
I woke up from my daze, trying to regain my brain power, pretended to examine the racket, and gave it back to her, saying it would do. I offered her a cold drink, but she refused, electing to start the lesson.
I led her to my backyard, toward the court. She looked around, saw that I had a nice pool and a 4-man jacuzzi, and smiled, "You have a wonderful yard. You can play tennis, then swim a little, and later enjoy the jacuzzi. I am jealous."
"You don't have to be. If you feel like it, next time bring a swimsuit, and we'll do what you suggested."
She blushed, "Julian, using you as a tennis instructor is a lot. I'd hate to impose further."
"It will be my pleasure to have my stepmother as a guest."
"Are you being a gentleman or really mean it?"
"I am serious."
"Thank you. If next time the day is hot, I may just do it."
I brought her to the court, explained the basic rules of tennis, including how to serve and the meaning of the multiple lines on the court. Sam listened intently, and when I finished, she mumbled, "I think I understand. Let's give it a try."
I smiled, placed her close to the net on one side, and moved to the other side. I hit the ball lightly in the direction of her right hand. She galloped, attempted to hit the ball, and completely missed. It was obvious that she wasn't ready: Her grip was wrong, her movements uncoordinated, and her aim flawed.
Next, I jumped over the net, stood behind her, and adjusted her handgrip. Being that close to her, the smell of her perfume hit me like a brick: It was Chanel Coco Mademoiselle. This was the same perfume that my 3rd girlfriend put on whenever she was in the mood for sex. My dick, which was already at half mast before that moment, jolted up and created a noticeable tent in my shorts. I was in a bind: As long as I stood behind Sam, she wasn't aware of my problem, but her sexy odor was arousing me. However, if I returned to my original side of the net, the huge bulge would be too apparent. I decided to stay behind her and hold her hand while hitting balls to the other side, hoping she'd think it was part of the required lesson.
After doing it 5 times, her rear moved slightly backward, and she began asking, "Is this how you want me to serve...?"
She stopped in mid sentence, sensing my erection pressing on her back. She turned around, lowered her gaze onto my prominent groin area, and smiled, "Julian, dear, is it my fault?"
My face was probably beet red as I stuttered, "Soorry. Your perfume feeels like an aphrodisiac. It's wrooong, and I apologize."
Sam giggled, "Don't be sorry. I am already 37, and to know that a handsome guy, who is 10 years younger, finds me... acceptable, is a highly appreciated compliment."
"You look younger than your chronological age, and you are... beautiful."
"At least one in the family think so."
"What are you saying?! Dad and you just returned from your honeymoon, surely he admires the way you look."
She hesitated, "Yes, and no. Listen, let's skip the subject and continue with tennis."
I didn't wish to upset her, and after demonstrating to her again the proper way to hold the racket, I moved back to the other side of the net. I served easy balls in her direction, and this time she managed to hit back 50% of the time. Her balls flew in all directions, but the eye-racket coordination showed mild improvement.
After half an hour, I saw that she was sweating and suggested to enter the house, rest a little, and have a cold drink. She smiled and accepted. I guided her to the living room and went to make cold lemonade. As I was preparing the drink, I heard her saying, "I like the photos on your walls. Each one is from another national park."
"Yes. I love traveling, hiking, and photography, so I combined all 3 by visiting many of the national parks."
"She sighed, "I've been to Yellowstone and loved it. Unfortunately, your father is too busy to take a week off, and frankly, my impression is that hiking in parks is not his thing."
I joked, "If you show motivation and consistency in tennis, I might offer you to join me on the next trip."
She eyed me, "Please, don't mock me. I was serious when I mentioned I'd love to go on a trip to one of the national parks."
"Not kidding now; In 3 weeks, I had a plan to go to Sequoia National Park for a few days, but my friend was just diagnosed with Covid and bailed out, saying he could not guarantee that he'd be healthy by then. I thought of cancelling everything, but if you are interested, we can go together. It sounds stupid telling you that, knowing you just came back from your honeymoon trip; Dad will probably expect you at home, but in case..."
Sam's face brightened, "I'll ask your father if it's OK. I can clean the house and prepare food for him in advance, so he'll only have to warm it up, and it will be ready. Opportunities like that are very unlikely to happen in the near future, and I'd really, REALLY, love to see the huge trees."
As we sipped the lemonade, now and then I sneaked glances at her and saw that she did the same. Once our eyes met, and we smiled at each other. When we were done, I asked her if she wanted to continue playing, but she claimed she was tired and sweaty. I told her to be at my house again on Tuesday at 4 in the afternoon. She grinned and walked away. Did I say walked? The appropriate word should have been sashayed! Her backside was as attractive as her front. The one thing I couldn't understand: Why would a beauty like her end up with my Dad? He was a known lawyer and was wealthy, but he was older than Sam by almost 20 years, addicted to his work, and he never showed interest in outdoor activities.
...
Tuesday afternoon, Sam arrived on time. This time she wore a tennis skirt and a tight sports bra. Knowing she was not offended by me staring at her, I whistled appreciatively.
She chuckled, "If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were flirting with me."
"Would it be bad if I did?"
"It would be acceptable if I wasn't married. And to your father, no less."
"Touché. Unless you wish to drink something, we can go out and start from where we left off the other time."
As we started hitting the balls, I saw that again her grip was not adequate. I reminded her to correct the grip. She smiled, "Sorry, I forgot how to do it."
I moved behind her, and as I guided her small palm to do it correctly, her tempting perfume invaded my nostrils, and my member stiffened the second time. I helped her hand, moving my lower body away from her. Sam giggled. She gripped the racket properly, and when I moved to the other side, I noticed her eyes examining my frontal bulge. She didn't seem fazed or upset, but rather cheerful.
I served a few times, ensuring it was always toward her right arm, and gradually she managed to hit back around 75% of the time, with 50% within 10 yards of where I stood. I was impressed and blurted, "Lady, you are doing much better already, and it's only our second lesson."
Sam grinned, "It's not me. You should congratulate my instructor."
I joked, "I'll do it after you leave."
I moved her away from the net, stood farther too, and we played a little more. Slowly, her forehand shots improved. It was time to begin working on backhands. I demonstrated a couple of times how to hit the ball, and she tried it, but it was unsuccessful. I noticed she was perspiring and her respiration was labored, and recommended a drinking break.
She had a different idea, "I brought a swimsuit, and I'd like to use your pool and jacuzzi. So while you make the drink, I'll put on the swimsuit."
"Sure. I'll wear my swimsuit as well. You can use the guest bathroom to change."
I prepared a pitcher of lemonade before, and it was in the fridge. I put on my Speedo and carried out the pitcher and 2 glasses on a tray. As I placed it on the small table, Sam came out of the house. I gasped: Her skimpy green bikini left very little to the imagination. Her figure was divine, having a guitar shape. The heavy tits protruded up and from the side of her top, with the shape of her nipples clearly visible. The low cut bottom exposed a flat tummy with a concave navel decorated with a small greenish ring. Her figure looked like Salma Hayek's if you could envision her in her 30s, but Sam's face was much prettier, and the blonde hair matched beautifully with the color of her swimsuit.
I ogled her and said, "You look like a movie star. You are stunning."
She smiled bitterly, and I saw tears in her eyes. I approached her, put my hand on her shoulder, and mumbled, "Sam, I am sorry. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel bad."
She whispered, "Silly goose, it has nothing to do with you. You are nice and polite, it's just... never mind."
"Please tell me. Perhaps I can help."
"I don't think so, but thank you."
Subsequently, she entered the pool and started swimming leisurely. I sat on the ledge and watched her. After a couple of laps, as Sam was close to me, she suddenly pulled my legs, and I fell into the water.
I stayed at the bottom for over 30 seconds, waiting to see what she'd do. I heard her calling me, "Julian, are you OK? come up."