My Stepfather Read online

  My Stepfather

  by

  James Orr

  LEGAL NOTICE

  My Stepfather

  James Orr

  Text by James Orr, Copyright ©2012

  Smashwords Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happenings.

  All rights reserved.

  While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibilities for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of information contained herein.

  All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

  Book design by Sabaijai Designs

  For Sam

  Chapter 1

  My mother had left a week earlier to stay with her sister in Manchester because my uncle was recovering from surgery and my aunt needed help with their three wild, young children.

  My stepfather and I had begun to adapt to our time without her, trading off on cooking duties initially and then falling into a pattern of eating out or sending out for food. Neither of us was any good at cooking. My best effort was beans on toast, and then I burnt the toast.

  As I stood scraping the blackened edges he said, “We’ll order pizza tomorrow.”

  The laundry room was getting filled to overflowing, and we ended up making bets on stupid things like football games on television for which the loser would have to do the laundry.

  We had a very close relationship. Since I was an only child I got a lot of his attention. This increased as I became an increasingly accomplished athlete when I entered adolescence. While he had never been as versatile as me in his youth he had always loved sports and admired athletes. He was in great shape and ran every day and worked out constantly. He came to all my football games and was my biggest fan. I loved his unabashed, sometimes publically embarrassing, support for me and my teams. He was Greek and very outgoing about his emotions.

  When my mother was gone we would often sit in the living room at night in various states of undress, most often in our underwear and watch Sky sports on television.

  We would yell and swear at the games, the players, the referees and generally have a great time. On a few occasions he would let me drink beer with him. After all I was eighteen,

  One night we had polished off a couple of beers, eaten a large pizza and were a bit tipsy as the game ended. He said he was going to bed and headed off to the bathroom. I heard him taking a shower, and decided to watch the news so I could take a shower after him. I heard the water shut off, but stayed downstairs for ten more minutes watching the rest of the news and sports.

  As I staggered upstairs, I decided to stop by my parent’s bedroom to gloat a bit with him about a score I had seen on the sports channel, a game we had bet on, I had won.

  When I approached their bedroom I heard a moaning sound. I stopped for a moment in the hallway and then approached the slightly open door. Carefully I crept along the landing trying to avoid the squeaking floorboards.

  What I saw shocked me!

  My stepfather was lying on his back on the bed with his legs spread wide apart. One of his hands was pinching a nipple and the other was slowly massaging his fully erect cock. He was wanking himself off!

  I was caught between embarrassment, and an unexpected fascination. My cock began to get hard as I watched him, and I reached into my shorts and began to stroke it. I was transfixed by the sight of his cock.

  While I had seen it many times at the gym or sometimes in the bathroom as we passed going to the shower at home I had never seen it hard. My parents were very uninhibited about sexual matters, and while we never walked around the house naked, there was a sense of openness and direct communication about sex in my family as I was growing up.

  But now I was staring at his cock, it was huge, at least nine inches, uncut and very thick. His thick fist was wrapped around it and he was moaning as his hairy naked body rocked and hunched back and forth.

  I leaned closer towards the door to view the spectacle, all the time rubbing my own cock more quickly. Without realising it I leaned my shoulder against the door and it creaked and opened further.

  He opened his eyes immediately and saw me!

  He looked quickly at me, paused for a second, and then stared intently for what seemed like the longest few seconds of my life.

  Then he said, “Are you going to just stand there and stare or come in and give me a hand?”

  While we had a very close, almost brotherly relationship, he was still a very authoritarian man. His question had all the overtones of the type of command I was all too familiar with. I pushed the door open and walked into the room hesitantly.

  He never stopped slowly stroking his cock. He looked at my crotch, then to the embarrassing look on my face, and said with a kidding half smile, Drop those pants and get over here.”

  To this day I wonder if I would have done it if I hadn't had all that beer. But I had, and I did what he said.

  He slid over to the far side of the bed, and I lay down beside him. Then he took his right hand off his prick and reached over and grabbed mine. It was very strange!

  He began slowly jerking my cock which by now was very hard. He was leaning over me and I could feel the thick hair on his chest rubbing against my shoulder.

  After a few moments, during which I was trying very hard not to come, he leaned back and said, “Now do me for a while.”

  Initially I felt so awkward that I just lay on my back and reached down for his cock. I took it in my hand rather tentatively and began to stroke it. The feeling that shot through me was quite intense. It was hot and throbbed and pulsed in my cool hand. While I had jerked off with some of my friends when I was younger, my main sexual experience had been with girls, I had lost my virginity shortly after my sixteenth birthday, or wanking off by myself, which I did frequently.

  I couldn't believe how thick and rock hard his cock was!

  The awkward silence was broken when he said, with a hint of irritation in his voice, “Get up and do it right.”

  I leaned up on one elbow as he had done and began to wank him. He put both hands behind his head, closed his eyes, spread his legs more and began to moan slightly. Then his hips began to buck upwards and he said through his clenched teeth, “Quicker, harder.”

  By now I was transfixed at the sight of his cock and frantically began to jerk harder. Then he grunted as a spurt of cum shot into the air. Then his right hand moved quickly down from behind his head and he grabbed his cock from my hand, squeezed it hard and jerked it very fast. A huge stream of cum shot out and laced itself straight up his chest. Then a second and third long white rope followed, reaching up to his neck and laying across the thick dark hair on his chest and armpits. More cum was spraying itself around now as the spurts subsided and it was dribbling down over his fist. His strokes slowed, and he opened his eyes and turned towards me.

  As his eyes came into focus he grinned at me, with a hint of embarrassment I thought at the time, and said, “Your turn.”

  He quickly pushed me down on my back, got up and knelt between my spread legs and began to wank me off while leaning over me. He really was getting into it. By this point I was so dazed and overcome by what had just happened that I lasted about thirty seconds. He had my cock
in his right hand, my balls in his left hand and was clearly enjoying giving me a hand job. I started to come. The first shot went straight up and he immediately tilted my cock toward me and the next few streaked up my chest. He kept going until I was done, then sat back on his heels and looked at me with a smirking grin and that characteristic twinkle in his eye.

  I didn't know whether to be embarrassed or burst out laughing, so I just lay there catching my breath and thinking, what the fuck have I just done?

  He rolled over on the bed and said, “We had better wash up, go ahead you can use the shower first.” I got up and went to the bathroom, my head still spinning. When I got out of the shower, I went quietly back to the bedroom to tell him I was done.

  He was sound asleep, lying on his back with his big limp cock lying over those huge hairy balls. Asleep. How could he sleep?

  I went down the hall to my room and after a few hours of tossing, and turning, and wanking off twice, fell into a fitful sleep. I dreaded the morning when I would face him. Mostly because I imagined he would be completely humiliated by his drunken behaviour, he hardly ever drank anything other than beer and even that was not too frequent, and what he would think of me.

  Needless to say I was quite surprised the next morning, and in the intense weeks that followed before my mother returned.

  Early the next morning I heard my stepfather get up and leave the house. I knew he was going running as he did almost every morning. I drifted back to sleep, and later heard the shower running, and then my stepfather return to the bedroom and finally walk downstairs.

  A short time later I got out of bed and went downstairs to get something to eat before going to college. I had hoped my stepfather had left for work, but he hadn't. He was sitting at the kitchen table dressed very sharply in a white shirt and tie with his suit jacket on the sofa near the door. He stared up from the papers he was reading and smiled.

  “Hi sport,” one of his nicknames for me and he said. “Sleep Okay?”

  “Yeah, fine,” I answered trying to sound as off-hand as possible. I couldn't look into his dark eyes.

  “I want to talk for a minute,” he said.

  “Sure,” I replied as a wave of anxiety swept over me.

  He waited as I took a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and walked over to sit across the table from him. As usual he got directly to the point.

  “Look, about last night ....” he started, looking directly into my eyes. “I really don't want to feel like I made you do something you didn't want to do. I guess I got a little carried away, I'm sorry, I'm sure you think what we did shouldn't happen between us.”

  He was clearly uneasy, and was choosing his words carefully.

  “No it’s okay,” I began, “I guess we were both a little drunk, no big deal.”

  He looked at me with a shy, studied, half-grin on his handsome face, and paused a moment before he spoke. “Yeah, you know how horny guys get, and me, well your mother has been gone for a while and you and I are so close, and well you know how that happens, shit when I was young I wanked off with lots of my friends, just like you did.”

  I was getting uneasy at this point. In the same sentence my father had referenced his sex life with my mother, his sex life as a youth with his young male friends, and my sexual experiments a few years before. How did he know about me and my friends? This was not the standard discussion one has with his stepfather at the age of eighteen.

  But, at the same time, most eighteen year old boys don't wank off their fathers like I had last night. This was getting uncomfortable.

  “Look Christos, it’s okay.” I said. “Just a little weird doing it with you, that’s all.”

  At that point a short laugh burst from my lips as I realised just how funny in some ways last night was. He looked at me, his eyes lit up and he chuckled softly. He was thinking the same thing, and the uneasiness seemed to disappear.

  “Well anyway, it felt pretty good for me,” he said still smiling. “Except that you were such an uncoordinated geek, and I had to finish it myself.”

  I knew this tone of voice, this type of challenge. Now we were back to our familiar bantering and one-upmanship.

  I answered quickly, “Good thing I did help you, you were so drunk you probably would have started using the vacuum cleaner for sex.”

  He laughed out loud at this comeback. “Not bad kiddo you're getting quicker all the time, almost as quick as you came last night,” he teased.

  We both laughed at this and he got up from the table, reaching for his jacket.

  “Well, the way I figure it,” he said with a teasing smirk, “You still owe me one.”

  He always tried to get the last word.

  “In your dreams old man, in your dreams.” I responded quickly, somewhat taken back by the suggestion.

  I certainly had thought this had been a once only event, an aberration that I was willing to forget. I wondered, however if my response sounded definitive enough, given that after I went to my room the previous night, and my frantic masturbating had been accompanied by intense thoughts of what had just happened. And even more so by fantasies of him and sex, which I had tried unsuccessfully to put out of my mind.

  As he passed behind me, he reached around with one arm and hugged me roughly from behind as he often did. However, this time I froze. There was no mistaking the hardness in his crotch as he briefly brushed it against me.

  Needless to say that day at school, and track practice afterwards was a bit of a blur. I struggled with trying to sort out what I felt about the prior night. I was struck, and largely pleased that my reaction seemed so benign. I wasn't freaked out, or shameful. Quite the opposite, when I thought about it, I found myself grinning and finding it almost humorous. However, I could not easily dismiss the sight of his cock and the feel of that thick, hard meat, that was not a laughing matter, and it was stirring up a lot within me.

  He got home late from work that night. I had eaten, watched some television and was up in my room reading. He knocked lightly at my door and entered.

  “Hey, what's up?” he said, sounding weary. “Not much, just getting ready to go to bed,” I replied.

  “Me too,” he said, sitting on the edge of my bed and picking up one of my college books, “I'm exhausted.”

  We talked about nothing in particular for a few minutes, and then he got up to leave. I was sitting at my desk with my back to him and he leaned forward and placed one of his hands on each of my shoulders and squeezed lightly.

  He held this grip for a few seconds, then said, “Good night,” and left the room.

  About a half hour later, when I was coming back down the hall, I tiptoed up to his closed bedroom door and listened. I could hear his soft moaning and the bed squeaking. I went quietly back to my bedroom, with my cock getting hard very quickly. I lay on my back and masturbated, thinking about what was happening in the room down the hall. As the jets of hot cum coated my chest, I reached down and pulled my fingers through the thick cream. Then I brought them to my mouth and slowly licked them, this was the first time I had ever done this. I fell asleep still rock hard.

  The next few days were filled with tests at school, and preparation for a big track meet on Saturday, and we saw very little of each other. We would talk briefly at breakfast, and I would often be in bed before he got home. Things seemed fine.

  After the track meeting, which we won, I went out with my girlfriend and a group of friends to a nightclub and danced for hours. My friends dropped us off at her house and as always, I was very horny and tried to get her to go out in her backyard with me on the patio set away from the house.

  After a lot of intense kissing and me feeling her up she said she had to go in, she was having her period and didn't want to do anything else. Frustrated, and with a serious case of blue balls I walked the few streets to my house.

  Christos was up watching television and greeted me with, “Hey sport, thought you would never get home. Have a good time?”

 
He seemed in his usual good spirits and I expected this mood was helped by his watching me win in the high hurdles and long jump at the track meeting. He was sitting on the sofa in only a pair of gym shorts, and his hair was damp. He had just come from the shower, after going for a late night run as I expected.

  I glanced at the television and was surprised to see that he was watching one of those soft porn channels. There was a woman with large heavy exposed breasts leaning over a table talking to two men who looked like customers in a bar.

  “Yeah, we had a great time,” I responded. Then added, “I see you're watching one of those high culture programs, what is this?”

  I was in a feisty mood after the day's events, and certainly a bit combative after my failed efforts on the patio at Amy's house.

  “Oh! Excuse me Mother Teresa,” he said in mock horror while laughing. “I didn't mean to offend your virginal sensibilities.”

  I had been removing my shirt which was still wet from the sweat of dancing and trying to get in Amy's pants.

  I got it off and threw it at him saying, “Screw you, do this laundry for me, it’s your turn.”

  The shirt landed on his face and chest, and we both laughed as he tried to yank it off while it got caught around his neck.

  “No way Jose,” he said. “You're on laundry for the rest of your life, you still owe me.”

  I was too caught up in glancing at the television, and thinking of a quick retort to pick up on his reference. It hit me after a couple of seconds and I stopped short. I had almost put our sexual encounter out of my mind, except at night when I masturbated, over the past few busy days.

  “Are you going to pay off or what?” he said in a challenging, half humorous tone.

  I noticed that his hand had slipped to his crotch.

  “Or better yet, I'll go double or nothing if you want to be such a wimp.”