Page 5 of Touchdowns and Tinsel

I glance around the bathroom, breathing hard, trying not to bust the rest of my load too quickly. Spotting some more bottles on the vanity, I turn around and begin jerking myself off again, adding hot, sticky cum to her lotions and face creams, grinning as I think about how—if possible—I can mix it in with her toothpaste.

But fuck, I'm empty, my hand hurts, and my cock is raw and throbbing from beating my meat like a fucking teen going through puberty. I've never jacked off so much since Noelle came into my life. What I wouldn't give to fuck her, but even I know how fucking wrong that shit is... but Christ, I want—no, need—to feel how tight and wet her cunt is, and I need it to happen soon.

"Took you long enough. What were you doing, jerking off to pictures of your stepmom?" Aiden jokes as I finally make my way back down the stairs, a bit more relaxed. He has no idea how right he actually is, though

"Fuck off, Aiden," I retort, collapsing onto the couch with my laptop in hand.

The game footage still plays on the TV, with Aiden and the others mostly engrossed in it. I log into my email to do some digging on Noelle using the app I installed on her phone, which mirrors everything she does and sends the reports directly to my laptop.

Once logged in, I sift through the messages, Facebook chats, and emails, meticulously reading every single one. But I don't find anything new. Just as I'm about to log out, an alert pops up from her phone. Curiosity piques my interest, compelling me to click on it. My jaw tenses at the sight that greets me, and I struggle to keep my expression in check.

My "naughty stepmother" has ventured into a kink app—a space where consenting adults can exchange their most intimate fantasies while remaining anonymous.

I quickly start searching for her account, eager to unveil any private messages or posts she's made regarding her interests. But there's nothing—that is, nothing revealing—except for a list of favorite pages and accounts she's followed, all leaning toward some dark and twisted shit.

Now this is what I'm talking about.

One particular page catches my eye, flooding me with anger as I delve into its contents. When I read the phrase 'Kidnapping Kink,' my hands clench into fists, and memories of the night my father was murdered crash over me once again.

"Are you watching porn or something?" Ryder chuckles, leaning closer in an attempt to sneak a peek at my screen.

I snap my laptop shut, sliding it under the couch before he can catch a glimpse, which elicits a strange look from him.

"No, just checking my email and stuff. Not that it’s any of your fucking business," I snap, venom lacing my words as they spill out.

He rolls his eyes, guzzling the remainder of his Gatorade before capping the bottle and tossing it behind him, landing squarely in the trash.

"Whatever you say, man." He shrugs, standing up and dumping a lap full of chip crumbs onto the white carpet.

"Shit, we need to hurry or we'll be late for the game," Ryder exclaims, turning off the TV and springing to his feet.

Without uttering a word, the four of us grab our bags and head out, praying we'll make it to the college in time for the football game.

Even though the drive is short, by the time we pull into the snow-covered parking lot, it feels like I've been in the car forhours, thoughts about my stepmother and her secret life still nagging at me.

I zone out through the coach's complete pregame speech, still thinking about what Noelle might be hiding. After saying a team prayer, I grab my helmet and slowly walk out of the locker room, but not before my coach stops me, clasping his hand around my shoulder.

"You got a clear head tonight, Saint?" he asks, a worried look etched onto his face.

I nod, "Yes, sir. I got this," I assure him, forcing a smile through my tight frown.

"Alright, but if your game is off tonight, I'm benching you and putting in our backup." His eyes bore into mine, trying to decipher the lie swirling within.

"I'm fine, Coach," I snap, putting my helmet on and walking away before he can say another fucking word.

As I step onto the field, the roar of the crowd washes over me, momentarily drowning out my chaotic thoughts. The bright stadium lights flicker like stars against the darkening sky, and I can feel the palpable energy from our fans. But even in this electrifying atmosphere, all I can think about is Noelle and her inexplicable secrets.

The whistle blows, and the roar of the crowd merges with the pounding of my heart. My teammates line up, the smell of sweat, snow, and grass filling my lungs as I take my position as star quarterback. I call the first play, and adrenaline courses through me, pushing the thoughts of my stepmother aside—at least for now.

We kick off, and I find myself lost in the rhythm of the game. Every hit, every tackle draws me further into the present moment. I focus on the ball, its laces and grip, the formations, the strategy. My mind clears as I release some of that pent-up frustration, turning it into energy I channel into myperformance. I catch a glimpse of the stands where I see familiar faces—friends, family, and the ever-frightening yet stunning silhouette of Noelle.

And just like that, anger and desire surge back within me. Each time I think of her swipe to a profile steeped in kink—her world of taboo fantasies—my blood boils. But at the same time, my mind goes to that sinful cunt of hers, and the next thing I know, I'm fucking her brains out. I can't fucking win.

The game progresses, and we’re neck-and-neck, fighting hard to gain the upper hand. The other team breaks through my players and into the pocket, coming right for me while I still have the ball in my hands. My opponent rushes toward me; I feel the ground shake beneath my feet as I almost slip on the falling snow and let instinct take over. No one’s open, so I dodge to the left, weave past another player, and barrel toward the end zone. The cheers from our fans are deafening as I secure the touchdown, a moment of pure bliss breaking through my conflicted thoughts.

But as I celebrate, Noelle’s presence lurks in the back of my mind. I can't shake the thought of what she's willing to let a stranger do to her, knowing that it could possibly turn my fucking world upside down.

What kind of stepmother joins a community that fantasizes about kidnapping? And it's sad to say, but that isn't nearly the worst of it—a kidnapping kink is fucking vanilla to those people. What kind of person delves into such dark desires while pretending to be the perfect stepmom at home?

---