My French Stepmom Wants To Be Friends Complete ImMeganLive

“Bonjour, mon chéri,” purred the voluptuous Frenchwoman as she sauntered into the room, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. My stepmom Chloe was an absolute bombshell – long, sensual legs, a tight little ass, and breasts that threatened to spill out of her low-cut top with each sway of her hips. But what really drove me wild was her dirtiness – the way she seemed to delight in teasing me, pushing the boundaries of propriety just to see how far she could push me.

“Hey, Chloe,” I replied, my voice catching slightly in my throat. She smirked, noting my reaction, and took a seat next to me on the couch. Close. Too close.

“So, I was thinking,” she began, leaning in to let her perfume wash over me. “Since we’re going to be spending so much time together now that your dad and I are married, maybe we should try to be friends, non?”

The way she said it, with that lilting French accent, made it sound like a proposition. Friends? Or something more? I was never quite sure with Chloe.

She must have sensed my hesitation, because she placed a hand on my thigh, giving it a squeeze. “Come on, mon ocurrent. What do you say we seal the deal with a little kiss?” Before I could respond, she leaned in and pressed her soft lips to mine in a chaste but electric kiss.

I felt my whole body react, hot and tingly. When she pulled back, I was dazed, lips parted. “There,” she said with a grin. “Now we’re friends, oui?”

I nodded stupidly, my mind still clouded by that kiss. Friends. Right. She stood up abruptly. “Wonderful! I’ll let you get back to…whatever it is you were doing,” she said airily, though her eyes glittered with mischief. As she walked away, she looked back over her shoulder. “Au revoir, mon ami.”

The moment she was gone, I let out a shaky breath, my cock already hard and straining against my jeans. That woman was going to be the death of me. I knew it was wrong to covet my own stepmom, but God, the way she played me – the flirting, the innuendos, the way she pushed her body against mine – it drove me wild.

But I tried to shake it off. I had to get a grip. She was my stepmom, for Christ’s sake. I couldn’t let myself get involved with her, no matter how much she seemed to be encouraging it. I was just going to have to tough it out, keep my distance, and try to keep things strictly platonic between us.

Easy enough, right?

Wrong.

Because Chloe was a relentless flirt, always touching me, always teasing me. One night, I was sitting on the couch, trying to watch TV, when she came in and plopped down next to me. Before I could scoot over, she was nestled right up against me, one long leg draped over mine.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “But you know what they say – French girls are always cuddly!”

And cuddle she did, even as I squirmed uncomfortably, trying to focus on the game. But it was impossible, not when I could feel every curve of her body pressed up against mine. What’s more, was she…grinding? Just a bit, subtly, so that even if I wasn’t sure, it felt damn good.

Finally, I could take it no longer. I jumped up abrupt, mumbling something about needing to call a friend. Chloe called after me, giggling. “Running away so soon, mon ami? We were having so much fun!”

Fun? Were they serious? That was about as far from fun as a barbie doll is from a chainsaw. That was torture. Delicious, mind-blowing torture.

And it continued, relentlessly, from then on. Chloe found every opportunity to touch me, to tease me, to push me to the edge of lost control. One morning, I woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the feeling of someone snuggled up behind me. I turned to see Chloe, who was supposed to be sleeping in the guest room, grinning up at me sleepily.

“Bonjour, mon chéri,” she purred, nuzzling into my neck. “I woke up cold and lonely, and you looked so cozy…”

She snaked an arm around my waist, her hand coming to rest dangerously low on my hip. I felt my cock start to stir and quickly untangled myself from her arms.

“You can’t just…sneak into my bed!” I hissed, panicked. Chloe pouted adorably.

“But we’re friends, non? Surely you don’t mind sharing your bed with a friend.”

Oh Chloe. If only you knew how much more than friends I wanted to be with you. But that’s a line I could never cross. No matter how much you tempted me.

“Friendship sometimes means learning boundaries, Chloe,” I said firmly, getting out of bed and grabbing my pillow. “I’ll take the guest room tonight.”

Chloe sighed dramatically, but I could see the mischief still dancing in her eyes. She enjoyed this game. She lived for it.

And so it continued, day after day after teasing day. The way she looked at me, those bedroom eyes, like she was undressing me with her gaze. The way her hands lingered just a second too long when she brushed past me. The bits of French filth she would mutter under her breath when she thought I couldn’t hear her. “Mmm, tu es si mignon,” I swore she once said, eyeing the bulge in my pants. “So gorgeous.”

It was too much, and not enough, all at the same time. I wanted to throw her down on the bed and have my way with her, but I also couldn’t bear tobesomeone she could never truly have, my own stepmom.

But maybe, just maybe, one day…if I played my cards right, and pushed things just to the edge…

Who knows? But one thing’s for sure – with Chloe around, my life would never be boring again.