My Stepfather Read online

  I licked off the damp remains of his cum, and sucked the smell deep into me, as he twitched beneath me, with my cock still buried to its root, in his arsehole.

  And I looked into the mirror.

  As I stared, it felt like I was viewing the image of us locked together through my body. It was like my chest had eyes, like my shoulders and stomach had eyes, like my crotch, my cock, my balls had eyes. Like the sweat between us had eyes. My whole body was on alert, watching, fascinated, as it placed this event in my memory.

  The placement of this image by-passed my brain, and imprinted itself within my whole body. Like the smack of a young fist into the sweet, leather palm of a new boxing glove.

  It took a minute, then another minute, then it began to subside, and I realised it was done. He hadn't moved or made a sound, and I was grateful for this silence. I stared down between us at my cock buried in his hole. I was still hard.

  But I grabbed his hips and slowly began to pull out. The head of my cock reached the inside of his rim, and I paused for a second then pulled back.

  As I left him there was a small sound. It sounded like a quick kiss.

  After a moment he rolled over and looked up at me. It took a few seconds for a vacant stare to leave his eyes. I wondered where he was, lost in that stare.

  Then he focused on me standing over him and smiled. I walked forward on my knees to get closer, and stared at his face, searching.

  He stared at my cock as I knelt above him. It reminded me of the look on people's faces when they are introduced for the first time to someone they have heard a lot about.

  Then I simply fell down on him, and we lay chest to chest for a long time. No talking, no disclosures, no explanations. Just exhaustion and a new understanding for both of us.

  When I got up off him he was asleep on the floor. I showered, and left the house.

  I met up with my friends after they got out of college, and spent the rest of the day roaming around town, hanging out, and paying only vague attention to their kidding remarks about me seeming spaced out, and asking me why I had missed college.

  Chapter 5

  Even before I arrived home that evening I knew things had changed. I could feel it within me. I didn't know what form this change had taken in him, but I knew he would be different. I had been quietly boiling inside all day.

  There was a feeling of exhilaration, release, a feeling of ease, passionate ease. Confidence.

  When I got back to the house, he was in the kitchen making dinner. His favourite classical music was playing loud from the family room, and he was busily engaged in making one of his rare feasts as he described them, a welcome departure from the pizza feasts we had been living on in my mum's absence.

  I yelled, “Hey, I'm home,” as I entered, and sank into a kitchen chair.

  He turned and looked quickly at me over his shoulder.

  “Hey,” he said, “One special feast coming up.”

  Then he looked back briefly to the sauce he was making.

  After a quick moment of stirring and dipping his finger in the bowl for a taste, he looked back at me. It was a brief but intense stare, and then a wide smile slowly tugged the corners of his mouth up, and lit up his eyes. It was a big gentle smile, with expectant eyes. He was asking if everything was fine. My heart soared, and a similar smile lit up my face.

  I stared at him, started to chuckle, and enjoyed the ease with which my quiet laughter changed into an expectant grin.

  I kept staring at him.

  He held my stare, and after a long moment a knowing grin teased at his lips.

  He reached behind him without turning, and stuck his finger into the bowl on the counter.

  Then he walked across the kitchen and said in his best mock serious tone, “Here try the sauce,” as he stuck his coated finger toward my face.

  I did my best to stifle a grin, and opened my mouth. His thick middle finger descended and entered my mouth.

  “Dinner should be ready in fifteen minutes,” he said as he worked his finger around the inside of my mouth, all the while grinning slightly.

  I wrapped my tongue around his finger, and played along with his game, pretending to be offhand and serious.

  He pulled his finger out of my mouth slowly, and said, “How does it taste?”

  I looked up at him and said, with a thoughtful pretence “Hmm salty, and a bit like bleach.”

  He tilted his head forward and stared down at me, as if looking over a pair of reading glasses. His best stern, fake professor look.

  “It appears the tuition we spent for your gourmet cooking classes was wasted.”

  “Either that, or you can't cook,” I replied.

  We both laughed at this, and my gaze drifted down to his crotch. He stood still, close in front of me. I felt the mood shift, and without thinking reached out and cupped my hand up between his legs.

  He just looked at me for a moment, this was, had been, his type of move.

  He stepped back, turned and walked to the stove. As he bent over to lower the flame and stare at it for a second, my cock twitched at the sight. He stood up and turned towards me.

  “Like I said, fifteen minutes until dinner.”

  There was a flat, almost expectant tone to his voice. My voice lowered to meet his tone.

  “Plenty of time,” I said as I stood up and took a few steps away from him into the family room.

  After that there were no words.

  I walked to the centre of the room, turned to face him, and just pulled down my zipper. He fell to his knees in front of me and pushed his face toward my crotch while he started ripping his shirt off. I just grabbed the back of his head and stuffed my cock into his mouth. As he sucked me, he kept removing the rest of his clothes.

  I was doing the same, and in a minute we were naked and I was fucking his face furiously. After a while he grabbed my wrists and pulled me down to my knees.

  Then he kissed me hard forcing his tongue down my throat, and grabbed my tits hard. I took it as long as I could, then pulled his hands away and grabbed his balls hard.

  After that it was all wrestling and wet biting sex. I loved it. We were two kids, two men, reaching, grunting, grinning both with the same mindless goal.

  It ended when, at one point he was on his back. I had had enough rough foreplay, and just grabbed his hair and forced my cock into his mouth. His eyes opened wide, and I just stared down at him. I pushed the first three inches into him, and started to jerk my cock from the base. His hands left my shoulders and fell back spread out wide on the rug. I wanted his mouth, and was taking it. My fast steady thrusts increased as I saw drops of sweat fall from my face on to his flushed face.

  I used his mouth for a minute then groaned loudly as I started to come. He gulped and gagged a bit while it poured down his throat, but his eyes were shining and wild at what was being done to him.

  By now he had reached down and wrapped his hand around his cock. He started to jerk it, and as I pulled out of his mouth I put my middle finger in my mouth, and pulled it out covered with spit. He kept working at his cock, but his legs spread and lifted reflexively. I kept his gaze as I reached down between his cheeks and firmly inserted my finger into his arsehole. His head jerked back quickly as I entered him but he never missed a stroke. I pushed in further until I could go no further, and tried to match the rocking motion of his strokes. The strokes increased as he approached orgasm, and I dug my finger deeper and looked into his eyes as I knelt over him. He came with a loud gasp, and I watched the cum jet up over his hairy chest to his neck, marvelling at how much I was attracted to the sight of those white streaks laying on that thick dark hair.

  I worked his arsehole with my finger until he was done, then kept it in as I leaned forward and spread my tongue flat against a spot just below one of his nipples that had a large puddle of cum.

  I kept my mouth there for a long moment as I slowly removed my finger from his arse. Then I rolled over and lay beside him.

  After
a long luxurious silence he said, “I think the sauce is ready to eat.”

  “So do I,” I said as I reached over and raked my fingers through the damp cum on his belly.

  We talked animatedly at dinner. It was a long delicious feast, and we both ate sitting naked at the kitchen table in candle light.

  I slept like a log that night with vivid dreams of floating rapidly through space.

  I was naked, standing erect with my arms open, moving faster and faster toward a dim image in the distance. As I accelerated the image became brighter and clear. It was him. Naked, arms open wide, and moving directly towards me.

  As we approached, my heart quickened at the impending collision and my eyes opened wide. But there was no collision. Instead we passed through each other, like ghosts. I felt a hot rush go through my translucent body as I sped along, and the taste of his body in my mouth. And my body became less translucent, more solid, and I saw the hint of a symmetrical shadow on my chest.

  I stirred sometime in the early hours as he entered my room. I never opened my eyes or even wakened as I felt him pull back the sheet and descend hungrily between my legs. I could feel the damp hair of his chest against my inner thighs, and had a vague image of him running in the pale early morning. He put his mouth around my cock, still soft, and sucked me until I was hard.

  Moments later I came in his mouth. Then I heard somewhere in the distance a quick slapping sound, a muffled grunt, and then felt a hot wetness on my chest and belly. Then the soft sound of feet leaving.

  I realised later when I woke up that the veil that had existed between us had dropped.

  My frantic fantasies and wonderings that had characterised the past weeks began to slip away as I reviewed, with a strange clarity what had been happening.

  The sex had started, it had moved from awkward, intermittent encounters always at his initiation, to more explicit acts in which I felt an active partner.

  While the sex had always been good, it had been body sex, held back by my continued reservations and detachment. Then I had acted, I had fucked him. I had fucked my stepfather. And this had changed my mind; something had fused together within me.

  I had no explanation for what had happened. But as the day progressed a single word wafted up from the recesses of my mind, lust.

  This feeling, this word, must have been seeping from my pores by the time he arrived home that night.

  He yelled his usual “Hey I'm home,” as he walked through the front door. He didn't have to yell, because I was only a few feet away on the living room couch reading a sports magazine.

  “Hey!” I yelled, trying to mimic him.

  “Oh, good, you're here,” he said as he tossed his suit jacket on the chair.

  His busy entrance demeanour changed quickly as he put his briefcase down and started to undo his tie. He just stared at me while doing this. Then with the most presumptuous, sexy, casual move I had ever seen, he stepped toward me and slowly pulled down his zipper.

  I don't know how, during the past forty eight hours he had come to the same realisation I had. Perhaps it wasn't a revelation to him. Maybe it was just the realisation of his original goal when he had first seduced me.

  When his hand reached his zipper, time slowed. When he looked at me the background noise of the radio in the other room faded. All I could see and hear was that zipper, and his thick hairy hand.

  Every click of the zipper against the metal teeth seemed like a single bead on a rosary. The phrases in a litany, designed to build to a single conclusion. I heard each click clearly as his hand descended in slow motion.

  Then I just looked up at him and nodded once, as if he had asked me to go over and turn on the television.

  By the time I was on my knees in front of him I was hard as a rock. I pulled aside the white briefs and pushed my face into the thick dark hair. Searching for his cock with my hands and tongue.

  When I got it out I sucked greedily. It took only a few minutes until he started shooting in my mouth. When I thought he was done, I pulled my mouth back to finish swallowing and catch my breath. But he still had more, and a short spurt landed on my cheek and lips.

  By now he had his shirt off, though his pants were still on and his belt still buckled.

  He pushed me back on the couch. Without a word he pulled my cut-off sweat pants down and started to wank me off. As I lay back, he reached up and put his hand on my face, then pushed his fingers into my mouth. I sucked them like a cock.

  He didn't put his mouth on me until I was thrashing around on my back and ready to come. Then he stopped pumping my cock and sucked it down his throat.

  I didn't know what felt better, coming in his mouth or sucking his big hairy fingers while I convulsed on the couch.

  When he was done with me, he stepped back and smiled down at me.

  “What's for dinner?” he said.

  “You just had it,” I responded, trying not to laugh.

  In the days to follow we were like a frantic, newly married couple. We couldn't get enough of each other, lusting openly for every new taste, every new position, every new location in the house, everything was exciting.

  But what fuelled the rampant lust between us was the unspoken understanding that the barriers had been removed. The roles between us, at least during sex, had slipped away. It was open season, and the exhilaration, the freedom I felt, seemed to make my whole body tingle every time I saw him enter the room.

  The sexual satisfaction was tremendous, but rather than provide relief, it seemed to feed on itself. The more I got the more I wanted. I also realised that the change between us has caused a change within me. I felt myself drifting to the boundaries of my previous feelings about passivity and aggression, and stretching them.

  When he was forceful with me, I would not only give in, but experiment with acting as passive and submissive as possible. I tried to be his bitch.

  As foreign as these feelings were to me, I relished the experimentation. I was surprised at how safe I felt doing this. Surprised at how I felt I had lost nothing in the process, and how it seemed to free me to exert my other side even more.

  My aggression towards him took on a whole new depth of feeling.

  Chapter 6

  I was talking on the phone to my girlfriend one night. She had been a bit irritated lately because of my lack of attention, and I was trying my best to reassure her.

  My stepfather came home from one of his late night meetings. When he walked through the front door, he was exhausted and drenched in sweat. He smiled and waved to me across the room as I sat cross legged on the floor with the phone to my ear. He was heading to the shower.

  As it had become a morning ritual, he had sucked me off while I lay in bed half awake. But as always I had been horny all day, especially since we had missed each other for dinner. I put my hand over the phone and said to him as he headed for the stairs, “Don't shower.”

  It was the type of cryptic statement that had become common between us in the past few days whenever one of us wanted sex. He stopped, looked back over his shoulder, nodded, and continued up the stairs.

  When I hung up the phone ten minutes later, I was already hard. I walked upstairs and found him doing sit-ups on the floor beside his bed.

  I stood over him and pulled my shirt off over my head.

  When he was done, he stood up and faced me. Then he pulled down his gym shorts and stepped out of them. I looked down at his crotch and saw it was damp and his cock was shrivelled and lying over to the side over his balls. His long wet pubic hair was matted against it.

  “Hope you’re not too tired,” I said.

  “I'm whacked,” he replied wearily. “But I've got a feeling that doesn't matter.”

  “You're right,” I answered moving toward him.

  I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and started to pull it over his head, partly.

  He pulled his arms down through the short sleeves, but the neck of the shirt never got over his head. I flipped the shirt back over
his face, with its neck still around his.

  “What is this Klan night?” he said sarcastically. I could see his stomach muscles tighten in a short laugh.

  “You got it Grand Dragon,” I said, trying to temper my chuckling with a stern tone.

  I grabbed his wrists and pushed his hands behind his head.

  Then I paused for a moment and let the new found feeling of sexual domination ripple down my spine until it twitched my cock. It was a welcome friend, first met when I had mustered the courage to fuck him. I liked the opportunity to get to know it better.

  He knew I was going to be in charge this time, and I heard a brief sigh leave his lips from behind the cloth that covered his face. He voluntarily spread his legs further apart, and locked his fingers behind his head.

  I just stared for a moment and felt my mouth get wet as I looked at him. I could feel the back of my eyes get hot as they searched his body like blue lasers in the dark.

  I stepped forward and grabbed his left shoulder with my left hand. At the same time, my right hand gripped his huge left bicep. A quick smile crossed my mind when I realised that I barely had time to curl my lips back before my mouth descended into the thick wet hair of his armpit. I licked this sweaty forest like a kid with an ice cream cone. Then forced my face even deeper, inhaling, and rubbing my nose back and forth.

  Loving the feeling and smell. Loving the taste of his running sweat. Loving it, taking it, without hesitation or shame.

  I switched to his right side when I was done. Then I raked his chest and nipples with the same blunt ravenous appetite. Long slow greedy licks. The flavour of sex settling deep into the taste nerves at the back of my tongue.

  When I was done, I pulled the shirt off his head. I could see the new sweat beading on his forehead, and he looked at me with a welcome, weak grin.

  I pushed him towards the bed; he stumbled briefly before collapsing on his stomach in the middle of the big mattress.

  While I was taking the rest of my clothes off, I saw him reach up and wrap each of his hands around the spindles of the bed’s headboard and spread his legs.