Caught in the Act

It all started the first Thursday in April during his senior year of high school. Adam Crenshaw had decided to celebrate his eighteenth birthday by giving himself an unscheduled holiday. He didn't have any specific plans; he just knew that school was the last place he wanted to spend his birthday. So he left his house on foot, like he did every morning, and began the short walk to school. Only this time, two blocks from home he turned right instead of left and headed for the park.

He had intended to spend the morning on the disc golf course, before heading for the mall. But a sudden, unexpected downpour at 9:30 spoiled his plans. Soaking wet and dejected, the 6'1" blonde haired young man headed for home, knowing he was going to catch hell from his stepmother, Amy.

Adam arrived home, cutting through the garage on his way to the kitchen. It took a second for him to realize that there were no cars in the garage, and another second for his brain to fathom what that meant. His stepmother wasn't home. With a little luck, he could get in the house, change into something dry, and get out without being caught.

He was in his basement bedroom, nearly changed when he heard the garage door going up. "Shit!" he said softly. Quickly, he turned off the lights and waited. With any luck he might still get away with this.

He stood quietly in his room, listening as the car pulled into the garage. A moment later the engine went quiet and the garage door started down. He then heard two car doors closing, followed by the muffled voices of what sounded like two women.

'Now what?' he thought to himself. Every time it looked like he might catch a break, another problem reared its ugly head. Now he not only had his stepmother to deal with, but her friend also, whoever she was.

The kitchen door opened and the women entered. His stepmother was saying something in a soft, inaudible voice, while the other woman was giggling childishly, giggling as only her friend, Becky Peterson, could.

'What's she doing here?' he wondered. Suddenly, it was quiet upstairs - no giggling, no talking. Carefully, Adam eased through his bedroom door and crept towards the bottom of the stairs.

Straining, he could hear what sounded like soft moans. And then silence. "This way," his stepmother said after a moment in a voice he could barely hear. But he could hear their footsteps as they moved through the house. It was with more than a little surprise that he realized where the footsteps were heading -- the master bedroom.

"No way!" Adam gasped. "No fucking way!"

But even as he spoke, he was headed back to his bedroom. In less than a minute he'd finished dressing and grabbed his digital camera. The next thing he knew, he was making his way stealthily up the stairs. One step, pause. Another step, pause. It seemed to take forever to reach the kitchen landing. When he did, he waited, trying to calm his nerves. He listened carefully but heard nothing.

'This is crazy,' he thought. 'I'm letting my imagination run wild.' But he held his ground and kept listening.

Finally, he began to move again, ever so slowly making his way through the kitchen. He finally cleared the dangerous hardwood kitchen floors, reaching the carpeted safety of the family room. And he kept moving.

By the time he reached the hallway leading to the master bedroom, his heart was pounding through his chest. He peered carefully down the hall and saw the master bedroom door standing partly open. He could hear them now - hear them moaning, hear them groaning, hear them encouraging each other.

Quickly now, almost recklessly, he made his way down the hall. When he reached the door he hesitated, took a deep breath, and peered inside.

What he saw was beyond his wildest dreams. There was the Mrs. Peterson, sprawled across the bed, as naked as the day she was born, while Adam's stepmother, still clad in her bra and panties, was sucking on her rapidly rising and falling breast.

Adam nearly came on the spot, almost dropping the camera as he moved away from the door. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He resisted the urge to take a picture now. He wanted Amy in all her glory and he didn't want to risk alerting the lovers prematurely. So he waited.

He waited nearly two minutes before leaning over and peering inside. 'Perfect!' he thought as he saw Amy flat on her back, now completely naked. He raised the camera carefully, snapped several shots, and retreated back around the corner.

He took two more series of shots, pausing a good minute or so between each series. Between all the shots he had a little bit of everything, more than enough for the little scheme that was forming in his mind.

Satisfied, he crept back down the hall, retracing his steps. After several long minutes he reached the kitchen, where he carefully opened the door leading to the garage. The next thing he knew, he was racing down the street towards the park.

* * *

Adam's parents had divorced when he was 5 years old. He'd lived with his mom until her untimely death just over 2 years ago, at which time he moved in with his father and his wife of 6 months, Amy.

Adam and Amy's relationship was strained right from the outset. Although she tried not to show it, it was obvious to Adam that his stepmother was not happy about his sudden intrusion into her life. For Adam's part, he was certain that this woman -- 10 years younger than his father's 46 years -- was only in the marriage for the money, a commodity of which Adam's father had plenty.

To boot, since his dad was often away on business, keeping Adam 'in line' was largely left to Amy.

Sadly, Adam's feelings weren't a whole lot better for his father than they were for Amy. In all the years that Adam lived with his mom, he hadn't seen his father a dozen times. There always seemed to be this big deal or that important issue which urgently needed his attention. The expensive gifts on Christmas and his birthdays never quite made up for his absences.

All in all, the three shared a strained relationship at best. So when Adam saw the opportunity to gain some leverage, he had no remorse whatsoever.

* * *

Adam returned home as he would any other school day and, after exchanging the normal pleasantries with his stepmother, headed straight for his room. Once there, he immediately started the next phase of the plan.

It seemed to take forever for him to copy the pictures onto the discs. He made 3 separate discs, just in case. He chose several pictures, each very explicit and leaving no doubt as to the identity of the lovers, and printed them off.

The next day, immediately after school, he would confront Amy.

* * *

Adam took a deep breath to calm his racing nerves and entered the house. He found his stepmother in the kitchen. "Hi Amy," he said cheerfully. "How was your day?"

"Fine," she answered nonchalantly. "And yours?"

"Fantastic," he replied and immediately headed down to his room.

Several minutes later, he was set. "Amy," he called out. "Could you help me with something for a minute?"

"Sure. What do you need?"

"I'm having a little trouble with an English assignment."

"I'll be right down," she responded.

A few moments later she entered his room. She saw Adam sitting at his computer. "Okay, what seems to be the problem?" And then she stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes took in the slideshow that was dancing across the monitor.

For a moment, the silence was deafening. Amy stared at the pictures as they scrolled one after another across the computer screen. Pictures of herself and Becky Peterson making love. Very explicit pictures.

She turned to face Adam as he rose from his chair.

"Before you say anything," Adam said before Amy could utter an intelligent word, "you should know that I have other copies."

"You little shit!" she yelled as she lunged at him, arms flailing. After a brief struggle, Adam grabbed her arms and pushed her onto his bed.

"As soon as you calm down," he explained as though this was no big deal, "we can discuss this."

But instead, Amy tried to rise from the bed, only to be pushed back down. "Anytime you're ready," Adam said patiently.

She glared at him for a moment. "Fine," she said at last. "What's there to talk about? I suppose you're going to blackmail me, now! Or are you just going to go straight to your father?"

"Well, all I really want is for you to cut me a little slack about curfew and things like that. You know, the normal parent --child issues. You be nice to me, and I'll make sure nothing happens to these pictures. Deal?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "That's all?"

"Well, I will have the pictures in case anything ever comes up," he smiled.

"But you won't tell your father?"

"Not unless you make it necessary."

"You bastard," she said as she rose from the bed and started for the door.

"Hold on a second," he smiled. "There are a couple of minor details we need to clarify." Amy stopped and turned to face him.

"First of all, you are not to come into my room without my permission. Second, you are not to tell Becky Peterson about this. I haven't yet decided how - or if - I'm going to deal with her. If you tell her, the pictures go right to Dad."

Amy stared at him, a puzzled look in her eyes. "What do you have planned for Becky?" she asked.

"At the moment, nothing," Adam answered

For a moment, a cold, icy silence filled the room. When it became evident that Amy had nothing further to say on the subject, Adam picked up an envelope from the corner of the desk and handed it to her. "These are for you," he said. "I thought you might like a set."

She glared at him for a moment, grabbed the envelope and turned for the door. WHACK!!! Before she could take a single step, she felt the sting of her stepson's hand as it smacked against her blue jean covered ass.

"I almost forgot to tell you what a hot looking body you have, Mom." For a moment, she just stood there, uncertain how to react. Finally, as a small tear leaked from the corner of her eye, she rushed out the door and up the stairs, the sound of Adam's laughter ringing in her ears.

*** II ***

It was the following Monday and Adam was headed home from school, daydreaming about recently transpired events. All in all, he couldn't be happier with how things were going. Not once had Amy hassled him about homework. Neither had she badgered him about his comings and goings. And when they had interacted, he'd thoroughly enjoyed her obvious discomfort.

He entered the house through the garage, a large grin on his face, and bounded down the basement stairs. He came up short when Amy stepped through his bedroom door.

"What are you doing in my room?" he barked.

"Nothing," she answered nervously, unable to look him in the eyes.

"I thought I told you to stay out of my room! Weren't my instructions clear enough?" he asked.

"Yes," she murmured.

"Well, why were you in there, then?" There was no response.

"I see," he said momentarily. "You were looking for the discs, weren't you?"

"No," she gasped, a little too strongly. "I was . . . dusting."

He grabbed her by the arm and led her back into his room. "Without a dust cloth?" he asked as he surveyed his room. "Come on Amy, you can do better than that?"

For a moment, the room was silent. Finally, Adam spoke. "First you disobey me, then you lie to me. It looks like you don't understand the situation quite as well as I thought you did. We'll have to remedy that."

Still holding her by the arm, he pushed her roughly towards his desk. "Ouch! You're hurting me," she complained.

"Bend over and put your forearms on the table," he snapped, ignoring her protests. "I think a good old fashioned spanking is just what you need."

"You wouldn't dare!" she gasped, pulling her arm from his grasp and taking a step back.

"Yes, I would," he replied calmly. "Now bend over and put your forearms on the desk."

"No!" she replied emphatically, an icy glare in her eyes.

Adam was quiet for a moment. "Have it your way," he said at last. "I'm sure dad won't be too upset when he sees the pictures. He might not even throw you out on your ass!"

"You're bluffing," she challenged. "You wouldn't dare!"

"We'll see, then, won't we?" Adam smiled as he left the room. He was halfway up the stairs when she came rushing out of his room.

"Wait!" she pleaded. "You're not really going to tell him, are you?"

Adam stopped and smiled. "That's completely up to you, isn't it?"

"Okay, I'll do what you say." She tried to look him in the eyes, but couldn't. "Just don't tell him."

Adam smiled and started back down the stairs. "After you," he said, pointing the way back to his room.

After a moment's hesitation, she turned and went back into the room, heading directly for the desk. But before she could bend over, Adam stopped her.

"You know, it won't really be much of a spanking through your jeans, will it? Maybe you should lower them a bit."

She turned suddenly, mouth hanging open, and started to protest. But she could tell by the look in her stepson's eyes that he was serious, and she hadn't forgotten the consequences of not doing as instructed. Still, she hesitated.

"Don't be shy," Adam teased. "Remember, there's nothing you have that I haven't already seen in exquisite detail."

Slowly, the tears welling up in her eyes, she moved her hands to her belt and unbuckled it.

"Give me the belt," Adam ordered. He could see the dampness in her eyes as she complied. "Now, turn around, undo the jeans and lower them. Panties also."

Amy turned her back to him, fumbled at the snap, and lowered the zipper. She hooked her thumbs in the waist, took a deep breath, and pushed both the jeans and panties over her hips and onto her thighs. She stood there a moment, her bare ass displayed to her stepson. "Is this okay?" she asked in a bitter tone.

Adam smiled to himself. "Push them down to your knees," he answered. "We wouldn't want them getting in the way, would we?"

Without answering, she did as instructed, before bending over and resting her forearms on the desk. As she braced herself for the inevitable, she was flooded with emotions. Anger at her stepson for doing this to her. Anger at herself for getting caught. Fear of the pain he was about to inflict on her. Humiliation for the degrading situation she was in.

But what surprised her most was the little twinge of excitement she felt as she presented her bare ass to her stepson. How she could find excitement in such a degrading, humiliating situation was beyond her. She was by nature an assertive, take-charge woman. She liked being in control. That this situation should excite her even a little made no sense at all.

SLAP!!! Amy screamed out as the belt lashed across her bare ass, but held her position. Then for a moment there was nothing.

SLAP!!! More pain followed by another scream, and another pause.

Fifteen times in all, each followed by a pause that allowed the pain to seep in and the anticipation to build. By the end, Amy was no longer able to maintain her composure, and the tears were streaming down her face. But despite everything, there was also a dampness in her pussy that she could no longer deny.

"That's enough," Adam declared 30 seconds after the final blow. "I think you get the point. Pull up your pants and get out of my room."

She hesitated a moment before pushing herself up from the desk. With her back still to Adam, she bent over and pulled up her pants. After she buttoned them she turned to her stepson. "May I have my belt back?"

He looked at the belt, and then at Amy. "Sure," he smiled. "Just make sure you keep it handy in case it's needed again."

Amy grabbed the belt, turned and hurried out the door. Adam listened as her footsteps climbed the stairs and moved across the floor towards the master bedroom.

When Amy at last reached the safety of her bedroom, she locked the door and threw herself onto the bed. For a while, she lay there, sobbing. But eventually her hand made its way inside the front of her jeans and down to her very aroused pussy.

*** III ***

Tuesday and Wednesday were awkward days for Adam and Amy. Adam spent as much time as possible away from the house. When he was home, the two tried hard to avoid each other. Dinner time proved to be very awkward indeed with Adam's father home.

Thursday brought another overnight business trip for Adam's dad. Adam arrived home from school at the normal time that day, planning on slipping in, dropping off his books, changing his clothes and leaving.

But when he entered his room, he stopped short. It wasn't exactly a mess, but it had obviously been gone through. The closet door was open, one of the desk drawers was slightly ajar with papers sticking out, and the books on the bookshelf were in slight disarray.

Clearly the room had been gone through. But the disturbing thing was that there had been no real effort to hide the ransacking. Was she testing him, he wondered. Did she doubt that he'd follow through with his threats?

He turned, exited the bedroom and started up the stairs. He reached the kitchen, turned and started back towards the master bedroom. He threw open the door without knocking, and saw her sitting on the side of the bed.

"I want to see you in my room right now!" Adam said sternly. Then he turned and, without waiting for an answer, left.

He'd been in his room nearly 2 minutes before he heard the footsteps moving across the floor.

"Can you explain this?" Adam asked when she finally entered his room. Amy stood just a few feet inside the door, her eyes staring at the floor in front of her. She said nothing.

"Are you testing me?" he questioned. "Do you think I won't follow through with my threats?" But his interrogation was met by silence.

"Fine. If that's the way you want it, let's get started. First, straighten up the mess you made." For a moment, Amy held her ground, neither looking at Adam nor making any movement to follow his instructions. Just when he thought she was calling his bluff, though, she turned and moved towards the closet door.

It took her only a minute to take care of the closet door, bookshelf and desk drawer. Then she stopped, turned towards him, and looked him in the eyes, all without uttering a sound.

"Very good. You know what to do next," he said.

Without turning around, Amy undid her belt, pulled it free of the belt loops, and handed it to Adam. Still facing him, she unsnapped her blue jeans and pushed them and her panties over her hips and down her legs. She surprised Adam when she didn't stop at the knees, instead pushing them all the way to the floor and stepping out of them.

She stood up and faced her stepson, now completely naked from the waist down, her only cover a short, skimpy tee shirt. There was a look of challenge in her face that Adam hadn't seen before, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. But before the silence became too awkward, Amy turned and assumed her position.

For a moment he just looked at her - at the curves of her naked buttocks, at her pussy peeking out at the top of her thighs, and at the backs of her long, slender legs.

Funny, he thought, but before this moment he hadn't looked at this as anything other than blackmail, as leverage he could use to make his life easier. Oh sure, he'd looked at the pictures he'd taken. But that was different. Those were pictures -- this was real.

He looked at her obviously braless back, covered by the loosely fitting plain white tee shirt. In her present position the shirt was riding above the curve of her waist, leaving far more skin revealed than was necessary -- or wise. Adam couldn't help but appreciate her beauty as he felt a tightness developing in his underwear.

For Amy, the anticipation was stoking the fire that was already burning in the heart of her womanhood. Ever since her spanking Monday afternoon, she'd been able to think of nothing else. Try as she might, she couldn't deny that it had turned her on. She couldn't deny that exposing herself to her stepson in such a humiliating manner had been one of the most exciting events of her life.