My Stepfather Page 4

  I tried to imagine what he would do next. This question was answered as he moved to my left ankle and began to work his way up to my thigh.

  My unease at having someone licking my sweating body began to be overcome by how good it was starting to feel. But I was still self-conscious. I tried to find a bit of comfort by imagining what it would feel like to do to someone what my stepfather was doing to me.

  The bodies I knew started to crowd my thoughts, my girlfriend, the other young women whom I had kissed and felt prior to losing my virginity, my male friends, and my stepfather. It became a swirl of mirror images in my mind.

  As he licked my inner thigh, I imagined myself doing the same to one of the guys at the gym. As he moved his tongue up to my hip, I thought of my girlfriend and what it would be like to lick her so thoroughly there. But the images kept collapsing back to him, to his body.

  What would it feel like to do this to him?

  I heard a small groan escape my lips as he began licking my cock, but only briefly, because now he was moving upward. I could feel his hot breath on my navel as his tongue descended and moved slowly up from my pubic hair. Then it pushed into my navel and I could feel the rough dark stubble on his cheek raking across my belly.

  The images loomed again, now enhanced by the real feel and smell of him.

  What would it be like to lick his sweating stomach? Different from this. He was so hairy, all that thick dark hair that covered his chest. That thick dark line that ran from below his furry chest down to his groin, where it exploded into a thick deep bush of pubic hair, licking it would feel different from what he was doing to me.

  Now he was moving higher. His tongue moved to my nipples. His stubble and mouth covered one of them, as he carefully licked and sucked. What would this be like if I did it to him? His hair would be thick, his nipples almost hard to find beneath all the long dark curls, what would that feel like? All that hair against my tongue and those big brown nipples of his.

  What would it feel like to open my mouth wide and try to gently bite one of his large sculpted pecs? Now he was leaning back down near my navel and starting long slow strokes that ended with his tongue almost at my neck.

  These continued with the same deliberate tension and it was driving me nuts!

  He was hunkered over me now, and I could feel his crotch rubbing against mine. The large stretch of his hard cock pushed at me through his jeans.

  My arms were at my sides with my fists clenching at the feel of each long lick and the rough stubble of his chin and cheeks as they dragged across my belly, my sides and chest. I was groaning now at each trip of his tongue, my head rocking slowly from side to side.

  I opened my eyes and stared down at the top of his head as he descended back down. He was holding himself up with both arms, his palms flat on the bed on either side of me.

  As the late afternoon sun shone through the window from behind him, I noticed the thick dark hair in his armpits splayed out and shining with dampness. The image of a bat's wings flashed through my mind as the sun illuminated the thick long strands. I twitched as his teeth gently grabbed my right wrist, then released, as his tongue started up my forearm to my biceps, then back down again, then up.

  Then he took hold of my wrist and raised my arm up over my head, pushing my hand toward the wooden spindles of the bed's head frame. I made a feeble attempt to pull my arm back down, but it was to no avail. He held it there as his tongue started at my rib cage and worked slowly up to my armpit where he buried his mouth.

  Oh God. I thought as I squirmed and convulsed beneath him. How could he do that? How could he like that? Why did it feel so good? My initial embarrassment yielded to the intense pleasure, and the feeling of being overcome by him. He continued to cover my armpit with his mouth and run his tongue through the sweaty dark hair, slowly deeply licking while he breathed in through his nose.

  All I could do was groan and writhe beneath him.

  When he was finished he leaned over and forced his tongue into my mouth and held it there while he ground his mouth and scratchy cheeks into my face.

  Then he moved to my other arm and did the same. It seemed to take forever as he licked up and down the inside of my bicep and pushed his tongue flat against the damp hair then captured it between his lips and pulled up, as if he wanted every drop of sweat to find its way into his mouth.

  I could feel my cock twitching involuntarily, slapping up and down against my belly.

  There was a pool of precum filling my navel and running down my side, and I knew I couldn't last much longer. I moaned through my haze of pleasure.

  “Christos, please stop, please finish me off. I can't stand it!”

  By now he had finished with my armpits, neck and shoulders and had moved down to where he was kneeling between my legs.

  “I'm not done yet,” he said in a husky tone as he reached each of his hands under my thighs and roughly lifted my legs up forcing my knees towards my chest.

  I was so disoriented at this point that it didn't dawn on me what he was going to do until his face descended between my thighs and I felt his tongue below my scrotum and I felt his unshaven cheeks on the deep insides of my thighs.

  “Oh Christos, no,” I said.

  The words left my brain as a strong declarative, somewhat fearful statement. By the time they reached my lips they came out in a pleading almost whimpering tone. What intervened was the electric shock that raced through my body as his tongue forcefully penetrated my rectum. I gasped and drew a frantic ragged breath. I couldn't believe what was happening.

  I struggled and squirmed at first, half from the shame and even repulsion at what he was doing, and half from the incredible feeling of pleasure at this first ever experience.

  But it was clear there was no stopping him. His huge hands held my legs back. Each one firmly grasping behind each of my knees and pushing them against my chest as he continued his assault. His long thick arms were extended straight out above his head. I could feel his forearms against the back of my thighs and the hot sweaty hair of his underarms raking across the insides of my upturned buttocks as his face plunged deeper and deeper.

  I had never felt so vulnerable, so helpless.

  He held me there for almost ten minutes while he licked my arsehole and every inch of my crack time and again and repeatedly forced his tongue into me. I could only moan through my ever quickening breathing and submit.

  What else could possibly happen after this? What could ever feel this good? I thought.

  Coming would be almost anti-climactic!

  When he was done, he moved quickly to a kneeling position between my legs and yanked down his jeans to expose his rock hard cock. My legs were now on his shoulders and I stared up at him with a pleading speechless look.

  He started to jerk his cock off and I reached for mine.

  “Don't touch it,” he said as my hand fell to my side. Then his stroking became faster. My eyes were moving frantically from his crotch to his eyes, he was about to come.

  Then just as he was about to shoot, he reached his left hand down between my legs and while staring into my eyes, pushed the middle finger of his left hand firmly, all the way into my hole.

  My mouth shot open as I gasped, my eyes widened as felt his thick hairy finger stretch the rim of my arse. Then in a swift move he pushed his thick meat down and pointed it at my crotch and began to come. I could feel the torrents of hot juice covering my balls and pubic hair and gushing onto my stiff cock.

  His teeth were clenched tightly and he was breathing in ragged spurts, but his eyes never left mine. It took only that look, of utter animal passion, and another thrust of his finger, and I exploded.

  Cum poured from my cock like I had never seen or felt before. I lay there spasming helplessly with my hands in tight fists at my sides for at least thirty seconds.

  When it was over, I was awash with cum, mine all over my chest and his coating my crotch. He slowly pulled his finger from my arse, then leaned forward an
d began to clean me off with his tongue. It took a long time as he worked over me, sometimes licking other times just pushing his lips into the puddles of cum, raising his head slightly and running his tongue over his lips. When he did the latter he would look up at me, and then slowly lower his head to continue.

  I could only lay there in a helpless, spent daze. When he was done he moved up and gently opened my mouth with his hand and pushed his cum coated tongue into my mouth. Then he collapsed on top of me and we lay there for a long time, stuck together with sweat and cum. It felt so good, so close, but my mind started to race again. This had been awesome, but I knew it was more than sex. Something else was going on here. Today he had been so deliberate, so determined, so disciplined, why?

  I couldn't help but feeling that I was being taught.

  I woke up in a dark room, on my parents' bed. For a moment I had quick sense of panic trying to figure out where I was. Then, the day's events slowly crept into my awareness, and I rolled over to look at the clock radio beside the bed. It was 8 pm. I had been asleep for three hours!

  I turned over on my back and stared into the darkness of the ceiling. I was exhausted. What a day!

  The encounter with my stepfather this morning on the living room floor, then football all afternoon with the guys, then the cleaning I got from him when I got home. Things had clearly changed. This was becoming evident as I languished in the soft folds of my parents' bedding and my mind wandered off in that soft post sleep hypnogogic state of floating, clear awareness.

  What the hell was going on here?

  Just when I had got to the point of thinking I could handle the recent sexual encounters with him, handle them mostly by thinking humorously about them, even though they were such a turn on, then he goes and does this. Where did he learn that stuff? Has he done this with other men? Why did that feel so good? Where the hell was this going?

  I smiled lazily as I thought of what had happened a few hours earlier. He sure knew how to turn me on, but boy could he get intense. He seemed to be pushing me, probing further and further.

  A worrisome thought flashed across my mind, what if I said no and he didn't stop? Our deal was that I could stop anytime; still, he had said he would keep trying, keep asking for sex. Perhaps I should try the no option, just to see what would happen. But, I thought, why say no? Aside from the very uncomfortable feelings early on in this afternoon's episode, it was great. Hell, who wouldn't be uncomfortable?

  I thought I had had some pretty strange fantasies during my wanking sessions alone at night, but none of them included someone licking me all over while I was soaked in sweat, licking my armpits, licking my arsehole, a finger up my arse.

  And it felt good, once I gave in. My mind screeched to a halt. Those last fleeting words rolled back across the screen of the darkened ceiling above, once I gave in.

  I turned them over slowly in my mind. They fit, but not quite. I was giving in, but I was also getting new things. What was different? I had to admit I felt closer to my stepfather. Hell, who couldn't after what he had done with me. But closer wasn't the right word either, I had never felt not close to him. Maybe comfortable was a better word, comfortable with him and myself about sex.

  He had more access to me. I had given him more access.

  My stomach rumbled and I realised I hadn't eaten since morning. Enough of this analytical bullshit, I thought as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and walked across the dark room towards the light in the hall. It wasn't until I was at the bottom of the stairway that I realised I was still naked.

  But I thought, who cares, and headed off through the family room to the kitchen.

  He was sitting at the end of the sofa in his bathrobe. He was reading a book, and at first didn't even realise I had entered the room.

  Then he looked up quickly, as if surprised, and said “Hey, sleepyhead, thought you were zonked out for the night, nice suit.”

  His humour was initially lost on me, and then I grinned at his remark, and the foolish feeling of standing there naked in the middle of the room.

  “Glad you like it,” I responded. “I had your tailor make it, and charged it to you.”

  I heard him chuckle as I headed for the kitchen where I devoured the last half of a cold pizza and some warm Coke that was sitting out on the counter.

  After a few minutes I returned to the room and saw him still engrossed in his book.

  I grabbed the woven blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa, and lay down on it with my legs curled up and covered myself with the warm, woollen blanket. My feet were towards him and he looked up momentarily at me and smiled as he grabbed my ankles. He pulled both my ankles into his lap, adjusted his book and returned to his reading. After a few minutes, I started to doze off feeling wonderfully tired and relaxed, and glad to have him close.

  I felt his hand begin to caress my leg, and I uncrossed my ankles in his lap and let it continue. My cock got hard, and I started to drift deeper into sleep as his hand reached for my crotch.

  After a while he clicked off the reading lamp, got up, and knelt quietly beside the couch. He lifted the blanket and lowered his mouth to my cock. I could feel the thick hair of his chest against my leg, and my tongue stirred unexpectedly in my mouth. Then, as I drew a long breath and fell into a deep sleep, he sucked me softly until I came.

  A few months ago I had gone with my friend to pick up his mother at a lecture at the University. The trade-off for him getting the family car for a few hours that night was that he had to drop her off and pick her up.

  Upon hearing this, he and I had made immediate plans to drive around town, go to all the places our friends hung out and basically flaunt the fact that we had a car for the night. Most of our plans didn't materialise, but we did have fun in the parking lot at the local shopping centre. We went to a far corner of the lot and he let me drive.

  We ended up at the University almost thirty minutes early, and walked into the back of the lecture hall. His mother was a psychologist, and the guest lecturer was some famous woman shrink who had just written a book.

  As I stood at the back of the hall I realised a couple of things, it was full of older people and the speaker was really attractive. I started to pay attention to what she was saying and quickly realised that I didn't understand much of it. But one thing she said stuck in my mind. It was something to the effect that people learn more about themselves that is really of value when they are asleep rather than when they are awake. She continued on about solving problems at the unconscious level, and a lot more that sounded pretty stupid to me at the time. I decided to tune out what she was saying and tried to imagine what she looked like naked.

  Chapter 3

  When I woke up the next day it was well into the afternoon. I left the couch and wandered sleepily into the kitchen where I found a note from my stepfather. He would be back late that evening. I made a huge sandwich, grabbed a glass of milk and went back into the living room to eat. As I sat there cross-legged on the floor I decided not to turn on the television. I sat in silence and ate.

  When I was done I found myself wondering why I felt so mellow, almost spacey. At first I attributed it to the many hours of much needed sleep. Then I found myself thinking about what that woman shrink had said at the lecture, then thoughts of my stepfather and me. But the stepfather sex thoughts didn't seem as emotionally charged as usual, neither as bothersome, nor as titillating, nor as complicated. I felt like I understood a lot more, but I couldn't put words to it.

  When he returned late that night I was in bed. He walked carefully and silently into my dark room and sat on the edge of the bed.

  I rolled over and said, “Hi.”

  He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead and said "Hi sport". Then his hand reached under the quilt and gently grabbed my thigh. I leaned my head back against the pillow and put my hands behind my head. His hand moved to my crotch, and my cock began to get hard. A faint murmur of appreciation came from his silhouette, back lit fr
om the hall light. He pulled back for a moment and began to unbutton his shirt.

  I took a deep breath and said, Christos, I don't want to do this, I need to go to sleep.”

  His hand didn't stop massaging my cock, but it slowed considerably, and the change in the energy in the room was palpable. But he kept rubbing my cock.

  “Christos, I'm tired,” my voice lost a bit of firmness at the end of this message, and I wished it had come out differently.

  Still he kept rubbing, but more slowly. Then after a long moment he sighed and said, “Okay sport.” But there was a clear edge in his voice. “Sleep tight ... we'll talk in the morning,” he said as he leaned over and kissed me on the shoulder, pulled the covers back up over me and left the room.

  Now I was fully awake. I lay there for a few minutes and heard him walk to the bathroom, then back to his bedroom and close the door.

  I was suddenly aware that I was sweating and that my cock was very hard. I reached down and began to wank off, strangely fearful that he would hear me through the walls, and then I came.

  As my cum flooded over my stomach and chest I found myself reaching down and frantically mashing my open palm against my belly, rubbing quickly to capture the hot sperm. I brought my hand to my face and licked it off like a hungry kid, reached down for more. It was a hurried ritual until my stomach was dry and matted with the last remains, and my face was smeared and drying.

  I fell into an angry, satisfied sleep, with my tongue raking around the inside of my mouth. The cum taste was mine, a safe, secure familiar taste. But it didn't quite satisfy.

  There was tension in the air the next morning as I passed him in the hall on the way to the bathroom.

  He smiled at me and said, “Want some breakfast?”

  But there was a strained tone to his voice. “Sure, if your cooking,” I responded.

  I went down to the kitchen after my shower and sat across the table from him. He was slowly eating a plateful of eggs and bacon and I began to dig into what he had put on my plate.