Fantasy Actress Roleplays

[Krishan202]

"I know," Divyanka said with a grin. "She asked me, first. I figured you could make up your own mind about it."

"But you still went through with it?" I said.

"Of course I did. I said I would, didn't I? Besides, it wasn't torture, you know. I happen to like doing that."

"And you're cool with my visiting Anita?" I said.

"I don't' know," she said, frowning and biting her lip. She rolled onto her stomach, her legs in the air. Her eyes were inches from my dick, which was starting to harden slightly. "Do I have to keep sucking you?"



"I hadn't thought about it," I said. "No, I guess you don't."

"How about I suck you anyway," she said, taking my turgid member in her hand. "Since my friend is calling you up to get laid. I feel responsible for putting you in this situation."

"If it eases your conscience," I said, and she engulfed my dick in her mouth. Within a minute I was fully erect, my hand on her ass under her skirt as she bobbed on my dick again. She raised her ass in the air, darting a hand between her legs. The skirt hid her hand but she rubbed furiously as she sucked my dick a second time. I took my other hand and gently held her short hair, guiding her up and down on my dick. I thrust my hips upward, fucking her mouth as she moaned. She came, her body shaking as my dick popped out of her mouth. It rested against her face as she cried out from her climax. She took me back into her mouth, rubbing herself even harder.



Divyanka came again, and again, until I lost count. She stopped rubbing and gripped me with both hands, stroking me until I gasped loudly. I came, and this time several shots hit her face and hair before she could get me back into her mouth. I was exhausted, my entire body spent, and as I pulsed cum onto her mouth most of it leaked back out. She, too, was tired. When I stopped coming she gently pushed me back on the couch, and then lay next to me. My dick, sticky with cum, rested against her bare thigh. She took my arm and put it around her waist, nestling tight against me. We slowly drifted into sleep, our bodies plastered together, or breathing shallow and slow.


I was in a foul mood. It was just the fleeting summer days. My mother's best friend, Anita, with whom I had lost my virginity and had fucked several times afterward, had a boyfriend. He was new in town, a computer programmer or something along those lines, and she has stopped seeing me as a result. She had me over for dinner, had broken the news, and had given me a parting handjob as a consolation prize. I had come all over her tits and neck, and then went home to sulk.


my step mom Divyanka. She had set me up with Anita, without telling me, and when I had found out, I had lashed out at her. Yes, I had gotten laid, so I might sound like a whiner, but I believe that she should have asked me first. If the genders were reversed, and a stepfather lent out his stepdaughter to a friend, it would be worse, I had said. And That's when I discovered something amazing about Divyanka. She likes to give blowjobs. Either to settle a bet, or on a dare, or when she felt guilty for setting her stepson up for some attachment-free sex for a friend. She had sucked my dick three times. Twice on the first night she took me into her mouth, and a week later, when she was feeling particularly guilty about Anita propositioning me. That sweet, final time, I had exploded in her mouth, but she sucked every drop of cum and swallowed it all. Since then I had been hoping she would do it again, with no luck. Now, with Anita moving on to new things, I had no chance.

Or so I thought.



The thing about life is that one door closes, and another opens. Cliché, I know, but it's true. At least for me, it seemed. My friends were already starting to go their separate ways toward college, and I found myself with more free time than I had bargained, and that's when things got interesting again.

I was drifting in the deep end, and into a nap, when I heard the sliding door open. Divyanka, my stepmom, exited the house and walked along the pool edge. I tilted my head up for a better view. Divyanka preferred one-piece swimsuits, because she felt that she had "too much tits for a bikini," which was the most absurd thought I'd ever heard. She did have fantastic tits, and a firm body. Her short, sandy hair flopped in front of her eyes as she walked.



"Hey there, lazy," she said teasing me. She slipped into the warm water and I slid off the float and swam closer to her. Since the blowjobs I found myself wanting to be as close to her as possible, and I tried hard to fight that instinct, so I wouldn't crowd her or freak her out. "Have you been out here all day?"

"No," I replied, sliding past her in the water to get a good look at her ass when her back was turned. "I got up at noon."

She laughed and swam around for a bit while I sat on the pool steps in an attempt to hide the erection in my bathing suit. It was automatic these days when I even thought about Divyanka. Anita had been amazing, a hot woman desperate for attention. Divyanka was something more. It was erotic, and wrong, and that made it even better. Still, all attempts to bring the up the subject failed. It was as if she was oblivious to any hints. I kept at it, though, in hopes I'd succeed.



"Are you ready for our trip?" she asked after a while. We were heading to Mumbai for a wedding on her side of the family. With my dad gone, it was just the two of us, and I was often Divyanka's "date" for weddings and other events. I had always enjoyed going with her, because Divyanka was fun. But now, the idea of a trip with her carried new possibilities, for fulfillment and disappointment.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm going to pack last minute, as always. But I'm ready."

"Good. Are you sure you don't mind sharing a hotel room with me?" she asked.

"Of course not," I said, trying desperately to sound detached from the idea. "Unless you plan on parading about naked when we're alone, because that would be the worst," I said sarcastically.

"I bet," she said with a laugh. Just then I heard my phone ring from the deck chair. She looked at me with raised eyebrows and I shrugged.

"No idea who it could be," I said. "I'll get it later."

"I just got in for a few minutes to cool off," she said. "I'm going out with some of the girls, so I'll see you later." She got out of the water and my eyes trailed after her. I waited until she was inside and then exited the pool, the tent in my bathing suit clearly visible. I had abstained from relieving my sexual tension by myself. No matter how I tried, it paled in comparison to the real thing. But, given my lack of prospects on that front, I was contemplating breaking my hands-free dry spell.



I picked up my phone and looked at it, puzzled. The voicemail was from Pooja Bose, my mother's friend. Pooja Bose was younger than Divyanka and Anita,  Divyanka was young, having married my dad when she was in her mid-twenties, about Pooja Bose's age. I didn't keep track of my stepmom's friends that closely, but Pooja Bose was a regular. I thought she had called me by mistake, but then how did she even get my number? I played the voicemail as I dried off.

"Hey, Abhi," she said, "It's Pooja Bose. I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me at the this afternoon. I know it's late notice, but Divyanka said you'd be able to help out some time. Anyway, call me back whether you can make it or not. Thanks!"

Pooja Bose had a singing voice, which was of little surprise to me. She was our  music director, and was always singing or playing piano. She was a typical music nerd, always in a rush and always forgetting something. I smiled, glad for a diversion from my stepmom, and called her back.



"Pooja Bose, it's Abhi. Do you still need a hand? Okay, great. Give me thirty minutes and I'll meet you there."

I got dressed and headed to her office. It was empty, being a weekday, with a solitary car in the parking lot. The office door was locked, so I entered through the side door and headed to the sanctuary. There, in front of the massive pipe organ was Pooja Bose, a pile of sheet music in her arms.

"Hey," she said brightly, "thanks for coming."

"It's no big deal," I said. "Divyanka's always volunteering me."

Pooja Bose blushed, "I'm sorry, if you don't want to help..."

"No, it's fine," I said. "I was just kidding around." She seemed jittery, more nervous than usual, but Pooja Bose was a nervous person anyway. "At least there's food at the end."

She laughed, putting her free hand on my arm and then quickly retracting it. She handed me a large stack of sheet music and led me behind the organ. There was a door into the mechanical workings of the organ, the real part that was hidden by gleaming pipes. There was a second room behind it, a storage room full of shelves, each labeled carefully by composer.

"Wow," I said. "They used to just shove everything in here."

"That's why we keep losing music," she said smartly. "I've been working for two months on this. Each piece has a number, that corresponds to a shelf. We need to sort these last few boxes, and then throw out all these worn out binders. After eighty years, you'd be surprised how much junk can accumulate."

We worked swiftly, making small talk about her favorite musical pieces, occasionally pausing for a drink of water. Pooja Bose seemed most at ease when she talked about music. She played piano, and flute, which I could have guessed. She was slender, with breasts but curvy hips. Her blond hair was in a bun that leaked tendrils of hair down her neck. She was very pretty, in a completely opposite way from Divyanka. Pooja Bose's black-framed glasses gave her a nerdy charm, whereas Divyanka was all bombshell. After a while she discarded the light sweater she was wearing. The church offices were always cold, but the storage room and organ were warmer. I could see she didn't wear a bra, which was unnecessary with her smaller breasts. Her nipples were hard despite the warmth. I tried not to stare, but failed.



After about an hour Pooja Bose stood up, stretching. Her t-shirt was small and tight, and rose up quite a bit on her midriff. Even this small display captivated me. She leaned against the shelf, looking at me as I knelt on the ground, sorting scores.

"I really appreciate the help," she said. "Since I took this job, I've been doing this myself."

"You've done a lot," I said, surveying the room. She crouched down, putting spiral-bound music on a shelf. I looked over, and saw her pants were riding low, and I could see part of her ass. I had a thing for seeing a little of a woman's butt like that, I and I found myself responding in kind. All of this unwilling abstention had made my hyper-aroused at all times. I carefully adjusted my dick while her back was to me. As she kept working her pants slipped a little lower. She turned around and caught me looking. I blushed, and she turned around, kneeling opposite me. She hiked her pants up.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's my fault," she said. "These pants never stay on right."

"I shouldn't have looked," I said, feeling my face burn red. I had had sex with Anita several times, and gotten three blowjobs from my own stepmom, but getting caught checking out Pooja Bose made me feel like a middle school kid again.



"I don't usually get guys looking at me," she said and bit her lip. "I'm a bit of a wall flower." I realized that Pooja Bose was closer to my age than Divyanka's. She was shy by nature, a bit of a book worm.