Page 4 of Touchdowns and Tinsel

The fractures in my heart remain deep and unsettling. For now, we have a fragile truce, but I can’t shake the feeling that beneath the surface, the real fight is still waiting to be unleashed. If pain ties us together, then the scars may just tear us apart if revenge, grief, or even hate decide to rise once more.

two

Cole

The expression on Noelle's face when I brought up my gift was absolutely fucking priceless. Though she didn’t respond to my question, I could tell she heard me and understood exactly what I meant. There’s something euphoric about watching her fucking squirm in my presence, and deep down, I know she relishes the attention—even if it’s the wrong kind.

She deserves every bit of the shit she gets, and more. She’s the fucking reason behind my father’s murder, and while I can’t say for sure, I can feel it in my bones. If she aims to make my life a nightmare, then I’m determined as fuck to return the favor and have a twisted sort of fun doing it.

What she doesn’t realize is that I’ve been quietly tracking her—watching her, stalking her—for years, long before my father was killed. My fascination has morphed into an obsession that I can’t seem to shake. She remains completely unaware of the hidden cameras I’ve placed in her room and bathroom, capturing private moments I can’t help but jerk off too. I know she senses that someone is watching, but I doubt she suspects that the eyes boring into her fucking soul belong to me.

I know she’s fucking hiding something, and I’m committed to uncovering it.

As soon as she steps outside, her jeans hugging her juicy ass and clinging to her curves just right, I spring from the couch, eager to dig deeper into the mystery surrounding her, knowing I'll find something eventually.

“Yo, where are you going? We’re supposed to be watching game tapes before tonight,” Ryder asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Relax, I’ve got the Bulldogs and their tricks down. The rest of you are the ones who need to study,” I quip, fully aware that the three of them are among the team’s best offensive players.

“Your stepmom is fucking hot,” Aiden comments out of nowhere, his gaze glued to the screen.

My pulse quickens, and I quickly suppress a grin, forcing my lips into a straight line to mask my agreement. “She’s alright,” I shrug, and Hudson throws a handful of Doritos at me, laughing as he shakes his head.

“Come on, Cole. It’s obvious you’re into her—you want to fuck her—especially now that your dad's not around.” He trails off, wiggling his eyebrows knowingly, hitting a nerve with his insinuation.

“Sure, she’s hot—maybe an incredible fuck. But don’t forget she’s hiding something. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a hand in the home invasion. She probably wanted my dad’s money and set him up,” I scowl, feeling a surge of rage that twists my thoughts darker and more sinister.

“Cole, I really don’t think she was involved in that,” Ryder says softly, his expression shifting to one of sympathy. “She didn’t exactly have an easy time, man. Did you forget they nearly killed her and gang raped her?”

A chill creeps down my spine as silence envelops the room, my heartbeat echoing in my ears. Fragments of that night resurface—memories I thought I had buried to avoid facing them. I remember being there—decorating the Christmas tree while my dad and I had a football game on in the background. Noelle looked stunning in her sexy Santa outfit, her silky blonde hair braided into playful pigtails. Back then, we still got along. I was already captivated by her then.

None of us were prepared for the horror that unfolded when three masked gunmen burst in, dividing us. I can still hear Noelle’s terrified screams from the other room while my father struggled with his captor in the den.

I emerged from that night unharmed, which has never made any sense to me. If they brutally attacked Noelle and murdered my father in cold blood, why was I left untouched? The question haunts me, and so does the thought that maybe Noelle played a role in the tragedy.

“Uh, Cole? You still with us?” Hudson snaps his fingers in front of my face, jolting me back to the present.

“Yeah, I’m here.” I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure. “I’ll be right back,” I mutter, hastily heading for the stairs, anxious to escape before they can say anything else.

But more than that, I'm curious to see what my naughty stepmother is hiding.

As I make my way up the stairs, each step feels heavier than the last—heavy with the weight of my thoughts. The house is eerily quiet, amplifying the sound of my heart thrumming in my chest. I reach the top, pausing for a moment outside her door, which is slightly ajar. A faint light spills into the hallway, and I can hear the soft melody from the radio she left on.

For a moment, I consider turning back. The guilt gnaws at me like a rat, but my curiosity is a stronger drive. I know it’s wrong, but I’m not in the mood to care. And besides, being in the wrong has never felt so fucking right.

I push the door open just enough to slip inside her room, the familiar scent of her lingering in the air—a mix of vanilla and something spicier that feels like a cozy embrace yet sets my nerves on fire.

Her room is a mess, clothes tossed carelessly across the floor, remnants of a life that seems chaotic but perfectly curated for someone like her. I spot a red thong and snatch it up right away, shoving it into my pants pocket—I'll put it with the other pairs I took from her.

Posters of skulls and dark art hang on the walls, but the centerpiece is undoubtedly the large mirror reflecting the chaos and beauty of her fucked-up world. I know I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be snooping. But there’s something captivating about the danger of it all, and besides, deep down I don't fucking care.

Feeling how hard my cock is just from breathing in her lingering scent, I scurry to the bathroom in her room, closing the door with a soft click behind me. My eyes roam over the dainty towels and neatly organized beauty shit, and suddenly an idea hits me out of nowhere.

I pull out my cock and start stroking, grabbing her things and sniffing them, burning her scent into my brain. I lean against the bathroom door, my head hung and eyes closed, my hand tightly pumping away as I picture my stepmother washing soap all over her naked body and rubbing her huge, pierced tits while soap slides down to her precious, shaved cunt.

"Jesus," I murmur, feeling my toes curl and balls tighten as my orgasm nears.

Quickly, I rush over to the shower and grab her loofah, filling it with cum before I snatch a few bottles, twisting the caps off them. I make it just in time, holding one of the bottles to my cock as my cum spurts out, mixing with her shampoo. Still full, I pump into her body wash and conditioner, feeling a little more still left in the tank.

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