In love with my stepdad: Forbidden desires unleased

Saturday mornings had become sacred to Andrea—a time reserved for the gym and, more importantly, for Joe. She stood in her bedroom, adjusting her high-cut gym shorts and fitted tank top in the mirror. The shorts hugged her hips perfectly, showcasing her curves in a way that made her feel sexy and bold.

Taylor sauntered out of the bathroom, her towel slipping slightly as she eyed Andrea with a knowing smirk. "Oh, I see. Someone's got their gym crush on the brain again." She crossed her arms, leaning lazily against the doorframe.

Andrea laughed, turning to face her. "Shut up, Tay."

Taylor raised a brow. "Seriously, though. How long are you gonna keep this up? You've been drooling over the guy for weeks. Just go for it already!"

Andrea threw a pillow at her, which Taylor caught effortlessly. "You're impossible," Andrea muttered, though her flushed cheeks gave her away.

Taylor's gaze dropped to Andrea's outfit, her smirk widening. "Those shorts, though? Girl, you're not going there to work out. You're going there to kill him."

Andrea glanced at herself in the mirror again, smoothing her hands over the fabric. "What? They're practical. And cute."

Taylor laughed. "Uh-huh. Go on, killer. Just try not to break him."

Grabbing her gym bag, Andrea called out as she headed for the door, "Love you!"

Taylor's voice followed her. "Love you too, gym slut!"

---

The gym was buzzing with activity, but Andrea barely noticed the background noise. Her focus honed in on Joe, who stood by the squat rack, adjusting the plates with his usual effortless confidence. His shirt clung to his chest, damp with sweat, and his biceps flexed with every movement.

"Ready for some work today?" Joe asked, his eyes flicking to hers as she approached. His gaze lingered a moment longer than usual, scanning her from head to toe.

Andrea nodded, her heart racing. "Always."

"Good," he said, motioning her toward the bar. "Let's start with squats. I'll check your form."

She positioned herself under the bar, her back to Joe. As she adjusted her stance, she felt his presence behind her—closer than she expected.

"Feet shoulder-width apart," he murmured, his voice low and warm. His hands lightly touched her hips to guide her. The contact was electric, sending a shiver through her.

Andrea bent her knees, lowering herself slowly. "Like this?" she asked, glancing at him through the mirror.

Joe stepped closer, his chest brushing against her back. "Almost. Keep your core engaged. Let me show you."

His hands tightened slightly on her hips as they moved in sync. Andrea felt every inch of his body—his thighs brushing hers, his breath hot against her neck. The air between them felt thick, heavy with unspoken tension.

When she pushed up, her hips unintentionally pressed against him, the firmness of his arousal unmistakable. A wave of heat shot through her, pooling low in her belly.

Joe froze for a split second, his grip on her hips faltering. "That's... good," he said, his voice rough.

Andrea bit her lip, her heart pounding as she dipped into another squat, this time moving slower, more deliberately. Each motion brought her closer to him, her body brushing his in a way that felt anything but accidental.

"Like this?" she asked again, her tone innocent, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her.

Joe's jaw clenched, and his hands flexed on her hips. "Y-yeah," he managed, his voice strained.

She caught his reflection in the mirror, his eyes dark with something she hadn't seen before. Desire. The realization sent a thrill through her, emboldening her movements.

Andrea shifted slightly, pressing her body against him as she stood. Joe's breath hitched, and his hands slid upward, his thumbs grazing the bare skin above her waistband.

"Andrea..." he murmured, his voice a warning and a plea all at once.

"Yes?" she asked, her lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.

For a moment, the world around them disappeared. The clinking of weights, the hum of gym equipment—it all faded into the background. All Andrea could hear was the sound of their breathing, the space between them crackling with unspoken desire.

Joe stepped back suddenly, his hands dropping to his sides as he cleared his throat. "Good. Let's move on to the next exercise," he said, his voice forced and clipped.

Andrea turned to face him, her expression soft but teasing. "Thanks for the help," she said, letting her fingers trail along his arm as she passed him.

Joe's lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His gaze followed her, his resolve visibly crumbling as she walked away.

Andrea smirked to herself, knowing the effect she had on him. The game wasn't over—not by a long shot.

---

Andrea pushed open the door to the women's locker room, the echo of her sneakers on the tiled floor punctuating the quiet space. She had come here to shower after her grueling session, hoping to cool down and shake off the tension that lingered in her body. But as she stepped further in, a muffled sound caught her attention.

At first, she dismissed it as the hum of the ventilation system or water dripping from a showerhead. But then the sound grew clearer—a soft, rhythmic moaning, rising and falling like a siren's call.

Her breath hitched, and she froze mid-step. The noises weren't just background sounds. They were raw, intimate, unmistakable.

"O my ...Fuck!" A woman's voice cried, breathless and wild.

Andrea's pulse quickened as her feet, seemingly moving on their own, carried her closer to the source. She stopped outside a closed stall, her heart pounding in her chest. The sounds grew louder: the slap of skin against skin, the primal rhythm of two bodies colliding.

"Fuck! Fuck!" the woman screamed, her voice cracking with pleasure.

Andrea's cheeks burned, and a wave of heat coursed through her body. Her hand hovered near the stall door, the urge to peek battling with her better judgment. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to step back.

Instead, she retreated to the furthest shower stall and locked the door behind her. She turned on the water, the cold stream shocking her overheated skin. But the sounds from the other stall still reached her ears, muffled but persistent, weaving their way into her thoughts.

Andrea leaned against the tiled wall, her breaths shallow and uneven. Her mind betrayed her, conjuring vivid images of Joe—his strong hands gripping her hips, his mouth exploring every inch of her skin.

What's wrong with me? she thought, her body tingling with a need she couldn't suppress.

She slid her hands down her body, the cool water doing little to extinguish the fire burning within her. Her fingers brushed over her aching breasts, her nipples hard beneath the thin fabric of her sports bra. A soft gasp escaped her lips as her hand drifted lower, tracing the curve of her stomach.

The moans from the other stall grew louder, sharper, as if spurring her on. Andrea bit her lip, her other hand gripping the wall for support. Her fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her shorts, seeking the source of her growing need.

As her fingers found their mark, a low moan escaped her lips, muffled by the sound of rushing water. Her hips moved instinctively, her body alive with sensation. She imagined it was Joe behind her, his hands replacing hers, his voice whispering filthy promises in her ear.

The sounds from the other stall reached a crescendo, the woman's cries of ecstasy mingling with Andrea's breathless moans. Her body tightened, her movements becoming more frantic as she chased the release building within her.

"Joe..." she whispered, her voice trembling with longing.

The heat, the tension, the forbidden thrill of it all pushed her over the edge. Her body convulsed, a wave of pleasure crashing over her, leaving her trembling against the wall. She gasped for air, her skin flushed, her heart racing.

For a moment, Andrea just stood there, letting the cool water cascade over her, washing away the evidence of her moment of weakness. But the ache in her chest remained—a longing that refused to be quenched.

She turned off the water and leaned her forehead against the cool tile, her mind still spinning. She could hear the muffled sound of footsteps as someone exited the other stall, their laughter faint but undeniable.

Andrea closed her eyes, biting back a smile. What is happening to me?

Whatever it was, she knew it wasn't going to stop anytime soon.