My Stepson Took Me Out Clubbing and Everything Changed

After dinner, they went to a drinks bar in the center, one of those places where people drank, danced, and used things of dubious legality without hiding it. Damián made his way to the bar while Vera, pressed against his back, shouted the order in his ear so he could hear her over the music.

—Rum and Coke! —she repeated.

He passed the order to the waitress, a pretty blonde who winked at him conspiratorially as she poured the drinks. Vera was overwhelmed by the racket. Despite her youth, she had never been one for crowds or clubs, and that excess of bodies was too much for her. Damián, on the other hand, looked right at home.

He dropped a bill on the bar and wished the woman a good night, and she returned a dazzling smile.

—Thanks, handsome! —she sang out.

They found a gap in that human tide and claimed it for themselves. The neon and ultraviolet lights gave the place a psychedelic air; Vera’s skin darkened under that light while her teeth gleamed with an artificial whiteness.

Damián began moving around her, urging her to copy him. Oddly enough, Vera felt inhibited, a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn from the ease she showed in her social media reels and live streams.

Suddenly, two girls started chanting beside her.

—Vera! Vera! —they shouted, trying to make themselves heard over the roar.

And shy Vera rose from the ashes like a phoenix, instantly unleashing her best self.

—Hi! —she exclaimed, opening her arms to them with studied warmth.

—I can’t believe it. Is it really you? —one of them blurted, stunned.

—Of course it’s her! —her friend snapped at her.

—Is he your boyfriend? —the first one asked, before getting an elbow in the ribs.

—Sorry, Vera, she’s so excited she can’t believe we’ve got you right here beside us —the other one apologized.

Damián watched the scene, dumbfounded. Two followers had spotted her in the most unexpected place, in the middle of an ecstatic crowd. As if they had planned for it, they pulled markers out of their bags and asked Vera to sign them.

—Of course! —she agreed with a charming smile.

They also took selfies with her in the center, and Vera again struck her most flattering pose. When they finally said goodbye, they hugged her affectionately. Damián was smiling and she had flushed a little.

—See? I told you they know me —she shouted in his ear.

—Of course they do! You were really nice to them —he answered.

—I like being recognized. I can’t refuse to sign something or take a photo, even if there’s sometimes some annoying woman —she confessed.

—That’s the price of fame —Damián shouted near her ear.

Soon they spotted Bruno, whom everyone called “the Bear,” and Damián bounced up and down to catch his attention. They had just arrived too, so they joined the group and had fun together.

While they danced, Bruno moved closer to Vera.

—Sorry, I have to be honest —he told her in her ear, raising his voice—. I’d already seen you before, with Damián’s father, walking around the harbor.

Vera froze. She didn’t understand where he was going with such a confession right now.

—I thought about asking him about his father, but I don’t like sticking my nose where it doesn’t concern me —he added.

Vera wasn’t frozen: she was petrified. What was she supposed to say to the big guy? There was only one way out.

—It’s nothing, Bruno. Damián’s father is my husband… it’s a long story. I couldn’t exactly introduce myself as his “stepmother” without meeting you first.

The big guy nodded slowly.

—Relax. We’re not strangers anymore, you don’t have to hide. His father is a good man. If life has taught me anything, it’s not to judge, so I won’t be judged myself.

That burst of sincerity, unintended as it was, put before her something she had only brushed against until then.

—Thank you, Bruno. I really appreciate it.

She preferred to leave it there, breathing a little easier now that she didn’t have to pretend in front of Damián’s friends.

The two boys’ joy was almost contagious. Mei, by contrast, was restrained in her dancing and her gestures; her Eastern background seemed to clash with so much public exuberance. Vera moved closer to her so she wouldn’t feel isolated. She wasn’t one to express her joy openly either, or to put on a show of extroversion. In that sense she identified more with Mei than with Bruno.

The contrast of that mismatched pair shook her, and at the same time she saw herself reflected in them: she thought of when she used to go out on the street with Marcelo and how the looks, when it wasn’t the whispers, struck them like people wanted to stone them for breaking rules no one had written down.

Damián moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, swaying slowly. He pressed her against him without the slightest discretion, and Vera suddenly felt the hard bulge of his cock pressing her ass crack over the dress. She went cold for a second, her pulse racing, while his hands slid down from her waist to settle at the base of her hips and rock her to the rhythm of the music. She felt his warm breath on the nape of her neck, the brush of his beard on her shoulder, and the heat of that stiff cock digging into her through the denim of his pants, rubbing against her with every beat. Her pussy dampened at once, without permission, and her panties stuck to her lips in a wet, treacherous throb. Vera felt uncomfortable—uncomfortable because she was so turned on—and she turned to look him in the eyes.

—He knows —she whispered, leaning in to his ear.

—Who knows? —Damián asked, not understanding.

—Your friend. The Bear saw Marcelo and me together at the harbor —Vera said, shaken by her stepson’s closeness and by what she had just felt against her ass.

He looked at her without moving a millimeter away, trying to take in what she had just revealed. Vera could still feel the bulge between them, now pressing against her belly, and it took all her effort not to look down.

—So what? He’s a friend. Our secret is safe with him —he said, taking a sip from his drink.

—No, Damián, we can’t —she replied, gently pushing him away, though her fingers lingered a moment too long gripping his shirt, as if her body wasn’t entirely obeying her head.

***

Their sad look was cut off when, nearby, a small stream of boys and girls burst in. They were more friends of Bruno’s and Damián’s. The introductions followed one after another until Vera lost track of names and faces.

They came in like a burst of fresh, exotic air, pushing through with the confidence of people who know they own the night. Zaida, with her mane of black curls exploding in unruly ebony, melted into an embrace with Damián, while Aldo, spectral-pale under the strobe lights, greeted them with a languidly elegant gesture.

Behind them came Omar and Liv. The contrast was magnetic: his skin, deep and dark as a moonless night, intertwined with her alabaster complexion and platinum hair, forming a composition Vera watched with both fascination and bewilderment. Closing the group were Hana, with her delicacy etched into an impassive face, and Nilo, a guy with Mediterranean features and a wild gaze who seemed to radiate a contagious vitality.

Damián, in the middle of that collective delirium, was introducing his people with shouts that barely punched through the wall of sound, while Vera felt her world of appearances crumble before the authenticity of those people. They were no longer just names: they were physical proof that life pulsed with a force she, until that night, had only sensed through the glass of a screen.

The party climbed even higher in frenzy with the new infusion of human capital. While Damián dissolved into the sea of newly arrived friends, Vera felt out of place. She wasn’t used to such a large group, and perhaps that was why she felt displaced. Damián noticed her alone for a moment and came over.

—What’s wrong, famous girl? —he said, trying to make her smile.

—Nothing. I’m impressed by how popular you are. I have thousands of followers, but I don’t see them, I don’t feel them like I do here… like I do with you all —she confessed, sharing that strange loneliness of having an army of more than a hundred thousand souls on social media.

—Don’t hold back. My friends are your friends —he assured her.

He pulled her back into the group. The girls clung to her and started bombarding her with questions and insinuations about her relationship with him. Vera kept repeating that she was “a friend,” feeling the lie wouldn’t fly and running into sly smiles. Still, none of them said anything that made her uncomfortable. Now she could dance without feeling watched like before; everyone danced with everyone in a kind of social orgy, as exciting as it was exhausting.

The night’s rhythm stretched into the early morning. Vera started yawning and the party gradually thinned. Their mutual confessions about each other’s wounds were long behind them.

She went up to Damián. Several friends had already left when she whispered in his ear:

—I’m tired. I’d like to go back —she begged, pressing herself to his chest.

—Sure. Let’s say goodbye —he nodded, leading her toward the remaining hard-core group.

***

They said goodbye and left the club. The early morning met them with fresh, renewed air. After leaving behind that damp, stale atmosphere, they could finally expand their lungs.

—It was so hot in there! —Vera exclaimed, filling her lungs.

—The place was packed —Damián agreed—. Should we head home now?

—I’d like to take a walk to clear my head —she said, suddenly seeming to have forgotten her fatigue.

Clinging to his arm, they set off along the seafront promenade, quiet at that hour, under a sky dirtied orange by the streetlamps. They walked a couple of kilometers with the sole intention of clearing their heads.

At dawn, when the blackness of night was beginning to give way to the violets and lilacs announcing the sun’s birth, they were sitting on the sand. They had stopped drinking a while ago, so their minds were clear again. Curled up beside each other, the sea breeze, laden with moisture, cooled them and they felt the need to shelter in each other’s company. Vera clung to his chest because she was starting to shiver.

—You surprised me with your group of friends. You’re an incredible bunch —she confessed sadly.

—Don’t tell me the influencer with thousands of followers got impressed by some random party.

—As strange as it sounds, what I do on social media is beauty tricks and personal care. But… I’d never had this much fun. Those packed places always turned me off.

—Then this isn’t good for you. You’re heading down the wrong path, girl —Damián said sarcastically.

Vera felt very comfortable beside him. Maybe too comfortable.

—I didn’t think you were such a good guy —she confessed in a burst of sincerity.

—Seriously? I’m a scoundrel. If you weren’t who you are, I’d already have taken a bite out of you tonight —he shot back, playful and bold.

Vera laughed, though she felt flattered.

—Oh, yeah? And what would you do to me? —she replied mischievously.

—Things you don’t do to your father’s wife —Damián said, his voice changing, rougher—. I’d pull your panties down right now here on this sand and eat your pussy until you forgot your own name.

Vera lost her breath for a moment. The bluntness of the answer, the word spoken like that, shamelessly, sliced through her belly like a whip crack. She felt the hot sting between her legs, her pulse doubled in her temples and her nipples.

—You’re filthy —she whispered, with a smile that betrayed her.

Then she lifted her face from his chest and looked up into his eyes. It was almost dark, but their gazes could still be made out, deep and piercing. He brought his lips to hers. Vera felt the tickle of his thick beard and still kissed him softly.

The first kiss was tentative. The second was invasion. Damián opened her mouth with his tongue without asking permission, and Vera, instead of resisting, welcomed it and gave it back to him as if she had been waiting for that moment for hours. They surrendered to a succession of kisses that within seconds were no longer soft. Their tongues searched hungrily, tangled, sucked, bit each other’s lips. She heard the low moan that escaped his throat and couldn’t tell whether it was hers or his.

Damián’s hands soon left her face. They slid down her neck, her shoulders, and one of them slipped between them to close over one of Vera’s breasts over the dress. He squeezed her tit firmly, weighing it, and through the thin fabric she felt the nipple harden at once beneath his palm. Vera arched her back without realizing it, offering more, and he took advantage of that to slip his hand into the neckline and palm her bare skin. The nipple, stiff as a pebble, dug into his thumb; he pinched it, rolled it between two fingers, and Vera let out a silent gasp into his mouth.

—Fuck, what great tits you’ve got —Damián growled in her ear, voice rough—. I’ve been looking at them all damn night.

She couldn’t answer. She only clutched the back of his neck and went back to devour his mouth. Damián slid his other hand over Vera’s hip, down her bare thigh to her knee, then back up under the dress, this time very slowly, so she’d have time to stop him. She didn’t stop him. His fingers climbed the inner side of her thigh until they brushed the wet fabric of her panties. Vera opened her legs a couple of centimeters, surprised by the gesture herself, and Damián, feeling the dampness beneath the cotton, let out a dark laugh against her neck.

—You’re dripping, girl —he told her, pressing the pad of his finger right over the clit through the fabric—. All wet for me. I can’t believe it.

—Damián… —she murmured, too weak to say anything else.

He kept at it, drawing slow circles over her panties, and Vera felt the wetness grow, the cotton sticking to the lips of her pussy in an obscene caress, the tip of her stepson’s finger searching for her entrance and pressing right there, never quite going inside. Damián’s tongue licked the shell of her ear, slid down her neck, tugged the dress strap aside with his teeth, and trapped her bare nipple. He sucked it avidly, nibbled it, left it shining with saliva in the bluish light of dawn. Vera dug her fingers into his hair and pressed his head to her chest, unable to say no.

Vera’s other hand, as if it had a life of its own, slid over Damián’s belly and stopped, trembling, over the bulge straining his fly. She felt it through the denim. The cock was hard as stone, thick, throbbing under the fabric. She closed her hand around that mass and squeezed, and Damián let out a deep gasp against her nipple.

—Fuck, yeah, touch it —he begged her, his mouth full of tit.

Vera rubbed him over his pants, her breathing more and more ragged. Her stepson’s cock showed completely under her hand: the swollen head at the base of the hip, the thick shaft running down the thigh. She noticed a little wet spot in the fabric where the tip pointed, and her pussy clenched with pure desire. Damián’s fingers, meanwhile, had slipped over the edge of her panties and were finally touching her bare flesh, sliding between her soaked lips. One finger traced her from top to bottom, slow, obscene, and stopped to play with the swollen clit.

—You’re ready to be fucked right here —he growled—. On top of the sand, with the sun coming up. Would you let me? Huh? Would you let me put it in you?

Those words, said like that, with that rawness, were an ice-cold bucket and a lash of fire at the same time. Vera suddenly saw herself, her skirt hiked to her waist, her panties shoved aside, her husband’s son about to shove it into her right there on the beach. She saw herself riding on top of her stepson. She saw herself panting the wrong name. And all the pleasure flooding her became, in a second, panic.

After that round of kisses and groping, she suddenly pulled away.

—I’m sorry, Damián, I can’t…! —she stammered, taking his hand out from between her legs, tugging the dress back down with clumsy fingers, stopping dead, feeling the vertigo growing inside her pushing her toward an abyss that terrified her.

—It’s okay, it’s nothing… —he said, guilty for having started something they couldn’t finish, even though the cock inside his pants was still throbbing badly and it was hard to breathe.

Remorse washed over them for letting themselves get carried away by that crazy night, and they didn’t know what to say next. Vera adjusted her dress strap, ran a hand through her mussed hair, felt the sticky wetness between her thighs with shame, and avoided looking at him. Damián settled the bulge in his jeans as best he could and took a couple of deep breaths, staring out at the sea.

Damián stood up and silently offered her his hand to head back home. When they got near the motorbike, Vera refused.

—With you on the bike? No way! You said zero alcohol, remember?

—Relax, girl. I stopped drinking a while ago and I’ll go slow, I promise! —he insisted.

She eyed him suspiciously, the corners of her lips barely curving.

—Are you sure?

Damián merely copied the expression and turned his head a little, inviting her to climb on with a silent gesture.

—Come on, get on!

Vera looked back at the beach one last time, where the sun was already setting the edge of the sea on fire, and she knew neither of them would return home quite the same as when they’d left. She got on behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and rested her cheek against his back as the engine roared and the deserted promenade began sliding under the wheels. With every bump, her still-throbbing pussy brushed the seat, and she felt that heat wasn’t going to go away no matter how much she showered.