The stepmother slipped into the dark bedroom, seeing a silhouette on the bed. Assuming it was her husband, she knelt beside him, her lips tracing familiar paths. In the quiet, she performed with tender expertise, lost in the moment. A soft moan escaped the figure, and as she finished, the moonlight revealed her stepson, twenty-two, staring wide-eyed. Shock froze her, but his gaze held no regret, only desire. Heart racing, she realized the mistake. No words passed; the air was thick with their shared secret. She stood, trembling, and left the room, the weight of the act lingering in the silence.

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