I had a good friend, Colin, who, like me, lived at home. He lived quite a bit further away from the college than I did. Because most of the guys we mixed with were in halls of residence, we found ourselves stuck together. Towards the end of October, I asked Dad and Sophie if they minded him crashing at the apartment. I had put it off because I was worried about what they might say, but I was overthinking it.
Dad did ask that until Colin had stayed a few more times, he didn't come around when he stayed away. This seemed perfectly sensible to me, and we kept this in place until Christmas when it was thought we could relax this. Overall, Colin stayed over seven times in the first term, which helped me get a reality check on my life up to that point. All those stays were on a Friday night. Colin came around with me after our last lecture at two.
We played on the Xbox all afternoon, and Sophie came home at six, as usual. Dad arrived with a takeaway an hour later, and then after eating that, Colin and I went to the college function that evening. Generally, those evenings were spent watching a band in the main bar, having a few beers and a good laugh with the guys we both knew. Sometimes, we stayed on for an after-party in the halls, but mostly, we wandered back around eleven.
Once, Dad and Sophie were still watching a film, but mostly, we quietly went to bed before Colin left the following day. I hadn't realised the effect on Colin until Sophie came home and performed her regular bra trick. His chin dropped down on his chest for the first time, and he was silent for around ten minutes after that; he kept looking at Sophie's tits, then at me and shaking his head.
Of course, I was used to this from Sophie; it was probably the twentieth time I had seen it. One didn't tire of it, but the effect diminished over time. I may have overstated the transparency of Sophie's blouses; often, they had ruffles or pockets, which made them not quite so in your face. You could always see her breasts sway as she moved through, and the nipples were always present.
Colin, I should explain, watched way too much porn; he was noted for it and the ability to recall plot lines from a lot of movies. He always seemed to think porn was like real life, but Sophie's bra trick convinced him that I was living in a porn paradise. I didn't tell him everything, but he thought previously the odd things I said were exaggerated. Now he realised I wasn't telling lies, and he switched up into his porn persona.
Over those seven Friday evenings, for the hour until Dad came home and spoiled it, Colin and Sophie were full-on flirting. There was a sort of dance where Colin tried to shock her, but Sophie responded with something to counter it and raise the bar for the next time. I can't remember the flirty compliment Colin paid her, but the next time Sophie went to top up her wine, she moved behind Colin, thanked him for it and pressed her breasts on his back.
It was game on, and Colin asked Sophie if she considered herself a MILF. I was shocked and almost spurted out my sip of beer, but Sophie countered that although she was a stepmom to me, she had no children, so the title wasn't appropriate. The unsaid part of the conversation that hung in the air was that Colin had declared he wanted to fuck her, which Sophie seemed to find inoffensive.
After a little more banter, cut short by Dad's arrival, Colin had convinced Sophie that SMURF might be more appropriate. As he spelt it out to her, Step Mother Up (for) Repeated Fucking. This word was a smiling competition between them, with Sophie purchasing a blue Smurf hat for the following Friday as a present for Colin. For the rest of that year, he also addressed her and Dad as Mr and Mrs M. My surname did start with M, but when Dad was about, Colin was calling my stepmother a MILF in plain sight.
She made a little smiling, mewing sound when he said it. When we went out that Friday night and every Friday night afterwards, Colin convinced me repeatedly that one day he would fuck Sophie. She was definitely up for it, in his opinion, and he might be suitable, judging from her responses. Only the fact that my father was there stopped it. It had nothing to do with me being there as well, because there was no way I was letting that happen to Dad.
The reason I thought there might be something in it was that Sophie managed to contrive reasons where Colin and I needed to take off our tops to compare biceps or flatness of the stomach or general all-around physique. Unfortunately for Colin, I beat him in all the straight comparisons. This generally involved Sophie standing in the middle while rubbing Colin and me more than a few times and eventually giving a verdict.
Sophie would then announce to Colin that if it came to a competition, and she was going to cheat on my father, then it would be with me. The last weekend before Christmas, Colin insisted on us stripping down to our boxers whilst Sophie checked us out. What was true, though, was that as the weeks passed, Sophie chose noticeably more adventurous clothing. Colin's infatuation with her was a topic of conversation between us on the nights when Dad was away.
Sophie went through a phase of ordering new black skirts for work online and then modelling them for me before dinner. She would buy three, the first a straight replacement for her work one and then two shorter versions. The first was borderline okay for work, and the second almost showed off her stocking tops or had a split that did. Did I think that Colin would get turned on by the shorter versions?
I already knew the answer to that. After a while, Sophie confessed she was taking a shorter skirt to work on a Friday and changing into it as she left to come home. The shorter version was supposedly for visiting a bar, so nobody at work commented when they saw her, but the effect on Colin was to turn his porn button up to the maximum. The next evening, she wore one, which was very noticeable.
Colin went through a long set of questions and answers about sexual positions. Sophie answered all his questions, which turned both him and me on. On the last Friday that Colin stayed before Christmas, Sophie excelled. She had gone to work in a skirt suit with a matching waistcoat. She returned in a very short black skirt that wasn't the original. She removed the jacket, pulled off her bra, and walked around in the short skirt and waistcoat.
When Colin scolded her for being overdressed for a MILF, Sophie took off the waistcoat to reveal just a long-sleeved t-shirt on top. It was mostly mesh; she might as well not be wearing anything. Colin, when he saw it, almost grabbed hold of her breasts. Fortunately, he didn't, and it was the ensuing partial nudity that prompted him to strip down to his smalls. I was a bit worried about Dad coming home and seeing this.
Fortunately, we all came to our senses, and Sophie went to her bedroom to change before he arrived. Colin and I put our clothes back on just as Dad went through the door. However, this didn't stop Colin from going on endlessly about it. His total conviction that Sophie was going to have sex with him at some point in the future started me thinking. Perhaps I had the whole thing wrong. Was I supposed to be having sex with my stepmom all along?
There was another effect of Colin visiting us that did not relate to Sophie. As I mentioned, Sophie usually got home a few minutes after six. We had been in the flat for a few hours by that time. I generally pulled the X-Box into the main room to take advantage of the bigger screen. I could not help but notice that although the wifi was incredibly responsive, it seemed to stop at six o'clock for a couple of minutes.
This wasn't something I had ever noticed before. I thought it was one of those things the first couple of times. However, when it happened the fourth time, precisely at six, I started to smell a rat. The timing was a coincidence, just as Sophie came home. It had never happened to me on my own, but generally, I was not on the X-Box at that time. I would always be finishing off whatever I was doing, so I got to see Sophie do her bra trick.
I thought about it for a while and realised that Dad was probably running some download or backup of his work server at six. I considered mentioning it to him but decided to treat it as a test to see if I could find out why. After all, I was at college to get into this sort of work. I was able to connect to the work server. My laptop was linked in. I could see it without too much difficulty. I then accessed the work log.
After some general investigation, I discovered that at six, a housekeeping process seemed to run daily. Fourteen files were created, each with a distinct name and a timestamp. At the same time, all the files for the previous day with the same name were copied over to another directory, leaving just one set of fourteen active. There were probably around a hundred files copied over. From the timestamps, they seemed to be created roughly every hour.
I drew a blank when opening the files; they needed special software to view them. I didn't know what that was. However, I asked for some help from my lecturer; he did some checking and told me they were an obscure video-type file. He asked why I wanted to look at them because they were primarily used in porn chat rooms. I apologised, told the guy I had got confused and didn't ask him any more.
However, now I knew what to look for; the Internet told me everything else. I found out what software to use to look at the older files, but saw immediately that the files were encrypted with a password. I had no idea what that was, but I did more digging. I found that on the hour, for a few seconds, the files were closed and then password-protected. If I could open them in those few seconds, I might be able to look at them.
So, over the next week at six, just before Sopihe got home, I carefully opened each of the fourteen files and viewed their contents. I was shocked to see they were all CCTV pictures of different bits of the apartment. Dad had told me that the CCTV was working on the front door and in the hall, but everything else was switched off. He seemed to be lying. A dozen other cameras were recording every time they were activated.
They seemed all to be switched on at six to seven, but after that, they only seemed to be activated when someone was in the room triggering it. Then, they recorded for an hour before switching off until reactivation or six the next day. There was one in the kitchen, the dining room and three in the main room—one in the corridor outside my room and two in the bedroom used for exercise. There were none in my bedroom or the family bathroom, but there were four in Sophie's room, including one directly over the bed and one in the shower.
I was a bit gobsmacked, to be honest. I wondered if Sophie was aware that Dad was recording her. And since I worked out how to get hold of an open copy, I had one of her soaping herself to orgasm in the shower. Another of her masturbating on her bed during a phone sex conversation with Dad whilst he was away. Look, I know I probably shouldn't have downloaded them to my phone, but I was a horny kid.
I couldn't get the older password-protected files open for over a year. The password was my name and date of birth in a mismatched combination. I managed to get hold of a hacking tool that tried every combination of a set of words and figures as part of my college work. It was an open question, though; my father was spying on me and his wife when he was away. After several subtle questions about the CCTV in the hall, I was sure that Sophie knew nothing about it.
How was I going to raise this with my father? It also meant he was probably aware of the fact that I masturbated outside his bedroom door from time to time. You would not set all this up and not check it out. I investigated the company that made the CCTV images. I could see all the hidden cameras. I worked out from the copy of Sophie masturbating on my phone that the camera was moving and zooming in and out. Dad was on the other end.
