Fantasy Actress Roleplays

[Krishan202]

The aftermath of my late-night game session with my friends was everywhere. There were snack bags all over my room, and the computer monitor glowed a pale grey in the distance. There was a pile of sleeping bags on the floor, and, inside them, my friends. There was a subtle knock on my door, it must have been what woke me up in the first place.


"Come in," I said hoarsely as I searched from my glasses with my fingertips. I sat up slowly, slipping the black plastic frames onto the bridge of my nose. On the floor the two sleeping bags stirred as my friends, Chandu and Dathu, slowly woke up. The door opened slowly, flooding my room with light as my stepmom, Divyanka Tripathi, stepped into the room.



"It's almost noon," she said matter-of-factly. She stepped over Dathu's sleeping bag and stood by my bed, her hands on her hips. She wore jeans and a tank top with wide, horizontal stripes. I tried not to stare, but the stripes outlined the curve of her ample breasts. She was Hot, with an athletic build, but she had spectacular tits. I know I should not have noticed, but hormones dictated otherwise. "I know it's Saturday, but I'm not letting you sleep all day."

"All right," I said, throwing my hands up in mock surrender. She laughed. Behind her Chandu and Dathu sat up, shaking their heads and slowly waking up.

"Can you boys clear out early?" she asked kindly. She then leaned in closer to whisper in my ear. Her short hair flopped in front of her eyes and she brushed it aside as she spoke. "Anita's coming over to use our shower. She has repairmen working on her water lines. I don't care if you stay, but thing one and thing two have to go." As she leaned in to whisper I stared at her cleavage, at the tan bra that pushed her tits together, for as long as I dared. She stood up and left swiftly, saying a kind goodbye to Chandu and Dathu. When I looked over at them, they were grinning.

"What?" I asked.



"I was just checking out your stepmom's ass," Dathu said in a whisper. "So, so nice, my friend."

"Shut up," I groaned. This was a perennial topic. Chandu and Dathu had been my friends forever, and they had been ogling Divyanka since we had discovered girls. When my dad passed away when I was 14, Divyanka and I were the only family we had, and I found my friends' newfound lust for her disturbing. Over time, I got used to it. And one day, out of the blue, I looked at her and something primal stirred inside me. It was summer, when I was 16, and she was bending over, looking for something in the refrigerator. I remember getting hard, my face flush at my instinctual reaction.

At first I avoided it, then wallowed in guilt over it. She was my stepmother, and while my father had married a much younger woman, I felt guilty over my attraction to her. Finally I looked at it as biological instinct, that it was normal to appreciate a woman with a body like hers. And now, in my last semester of high college, it was second nature for me to appreciate the view.



Dathu and Chandu left, but not after making a few more comments about Divyanka. It aggravated me, even though I secretly agreed with them. From her eyes, to her freckles and long, curly hair, she was adorable. Part of me was aggravated with them for being so immature, and part of me was territorial and jealous that they were even looking at her.

Divyanka was downstairs in the kitchen when I headed down to get some food. She looked at me and smiled as I grabbed some breakfast.

"I'm going to be gone for a while, I've got things to do until around four today," she said casually. "Can you let Anita in, and stick around if she needs anything?"

"Sure," I said. I liked Anita. She was my mom's closest friend. They met in our  singles group.  Anita was curvy, with enormous tits and a big ass. She wasn't fat but was built like a renaissance statue. The idea of her stopping by did not seem like a bad idea to me.



Anita rang the doorbell shortly after Divyanka left. She was waiting, gym bag under her arm, as I opened the door.

"Hey, Abhi," she said as I let her in. "Thanks for letting me use your shower. This no hot water thing is torture."

"I bet," I said, getting a decent look at her bubble butt. She wore sweatpants and a zippered jacket, her hair in a messy bun that cascaded into loose curls. Her jacket was loose, and she was clearly disheveled. Her jacket was unzipped partway, revealing considerable cleavage. I wasn't sure if she was aware how much she was showing.

It was clear she had nothing on under the jacket, and I felt my dick growing in my shorts, threatening to draw attention to itself.



"I look like a mess," she said apologetically. "Sorry."

"You look great," I said, feeling myself blush. She smiled, and I struggled to keep my eyes off her tits.

"I thought I might use your mom's bathroom, if that's fine with you," she said. "But she mentioned there's a trick to it."

"Oh, yeah, there is," I said. "The glass door latch is weird. I was supposed to fix it, but I keep forgetting."

"Can you show me?" she said with a smile. "I don't want to dump water all over her bathroom floor."

"Sure," I said. I led the way up the stairs and down the hall to Divyanka's room. She had the master suite, with a spacious bathroom and a glass-walled shower. "You have the lift the latch as you pull it, or it won't catch," I said, demonstrating it.

She nodded, and pulled her bun down, letting her long hair fall down her shoulders. She stepped past me and turned on the hot water, feeling how cold it was.

"It takes a few minutes to get hot," I said.

"Okay," she said. I noticed her zipper had moved a few inches down on her jacket. She definitely had nothing on underneath it. The zipper was now halfway down, and I could see the entirety of her cleavage. If it went lower, I'd see her belly button. I wondered if she unzipped it on purpose or it had just slipped down. We made eye contact and I was self-conscious about the erection straining against my shorts. I hoped she hadn't noticed.



She crouched down to dig her shampoo and lotions out of her bag. Her sweatpants rode low on her hips, and I could see several inches of her bare ass. I guessed that she had nothing on underneath. The idea that she was in such a state of undress made my dick ache.

"If you need anything, just call me," I added. She smiled, and I shut the door. I headed down the hall, sitting on my bed. I could feel my heart racing and my dick throbbing. I wanted to relieve the tension, but I was worried she might finish her shower before I was done. I was already really aroused, I didn't want to get even more so if she finished before I had come.

Moments later I heard Anita call my name. I stood up, adjusting my erection and hurried down the hall. I knocked, hearing water running.

"Come in," she called out.

I hesitated, but she called my name again, so I slowly opened the door. The room was flooded with steam, the mirrors opaque with fog. The shower doors were frosted over, but I could see the shape of Anita's nude body behind the blurry glass. I felt myself harden looking at her curves. This was the closest I had been to a naked woman. Even behind heavily fogged glass, the view was breathtaking.



"That latch is stuck, and my towel is on the counter she called out. Can you throw it over the shower wall, and then open this door for me?"

"Um, yeah, sure," I said, trying to keep my nerves out of my voice. I tossed her towel over the edge, sending steam swirling about her, revealing more of her shape as she shut off the water. She wrapped the towel around her midsection as I approached the door. The handle was slick from condensation, and I lifted the door slightly and pulled the latch. The door pulled open smoothly, and I stepped back to let Anita out.

"You're a real hero," she teased, stepping past me. She grabbed a second towel and wrapped her hair up in it. The towel around her body clung to her curves, her tits practically spilled out of the top of it. I took in the sights as long as I dared before turning to leave. I headed down the hall, my dick throbbing in my shorts. I was planning on jerking off the moment she started her engine downstairs. I sat at my desk, my mind tracing every curve, the line of cleavage that almost popped out of her towel, every inch of her. I was lost in my reverie when she knocked on the door frame.

"Hey," she said. She was leaning against the open door, still in her towel. Her hair was damp, falling around her shoulders. "You didn't have to run off."

"Oh," I said. "Sorry, I guess. I thought you'd want some privacy."



"No," she said simply. She stepped into my room. I turned my chair to face her. She walked right up to me, a look of determination on her face, laced with a grin. She was inches from me when she suddenly straddled my thigh. Her body was damp against the leg of my jeans. I had never been this close to a woman with this little amount of clothing on her. I tried to form words but before I could burst through my general confusion she kissed me.

As her tongue entered my mouth I was still trying to register what was happening. She pressed against me, the chair back falling back into the desk. My hands, on autopilot, touched her legs. I realized she was grinding against my leg, rubbing against my jeans, her breath coming in bursts as we kissed. I let instinct take over from the shock, and my hands slid up her legs, under the towel, and grabbed her ass.