Stepdad Becomes Real Dad

By Jim Selfie
© 2019. All Rights Reserved.
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I awoke the next morning to an empty house. Mom was at some meeting at the hospital and Sal had an early job. I gulped down coffee in bed as I flipped through my pics from the night before: image after image of my face and chest plastered with Sal’s clumpy white cum. My left hand worked my throbbing erection as I scrolled, replaying every sweet detail of his thick stepdad cock and copious load. My left eye was still bloodshot, a souvenir of Sal’s intense cum bath.

After I shot my morning load, I had to get ready for school in a mad rush. The day flew by, mostly because I spent every minute daydreaming about Sal’s cock. I lost count of my boners, and at one point in sixth period had to excuse myself to the boy’s room for a quick and violent wank. My milky jizz rolled down the bathroom stall wall, reminding me yet again of Sal’s impressive cum blast the night before.

I was both excited and terrified to see him that night. Mom was home when I arrived but it was several hours before Sal joined us; the sun had already set by the time his truck roared into the garage. Mom went to meet him there and I stole into the nearby alcove to eavesdrop on their conversation. If Sal was going to tell Mom about last night, this was likely the moment, and even though I was terrified I had to hear what he said. I took a deep breath and strained to listen as the truck door swung open.

“Sal, honey, you’re late. We had to start dinner without you.”

“S’okay, honey baby. Give us a kiss.”

There was a lewd slurp, followed by Mom’s shriek of laughter. “You old lush! You shouldn’t be driving, you smell like IPA,” she said, more amused than mad. “Been with the boys, I take it?”

“Yup... but now I’m ready to be with the girls!”

Mom yelped and they retreated upstairs, rushing right past me in fits of laughter. I ducked into the alcove out of sight and burned with jealousy. Since when did I care what they did? They could fuck as much as they wanted. Anyway, it looked like he wasn’t going to tell her after all, at least not then.

But that didn’t make me feel much better, and I spent the next hour alone in front of the TV, eyes on the screen but my mind on Sal in bed upstairs.

I didn’t see him the rest of that night or the next day. He had started a new contract working overnights to repair a patch of highway just outside of town. It was a busy stretch of road, and the crew was working double-time graveyard shifts to get it done quickly. This kept Sal out of the house from the time I came home from school to the time I left again the following morning. Suddenly it was like he was a ghost, still living under our roof but completely unseen.

“I hate these hours,” Mom muttered one night over dinner, just the two of us. “But it’s good money, Sal says, and he really wants to buy that boat.”

I nodded glumly and forked my peas, remembering Sal’s overtures about the fishing boat he was going to buy after his next few big jobs. I pictured us out on an isolated lake, just the two of us, and my cock jumped in my briefs.

That week Mom and I settled into our old routine, just like things were before Sal came along. Only now I genuinely missed the guy— and not just as a sex object. The house felt different without him, bigger and empty.

Saturday morning I was almost surprised to find him at the breakfast table, newspaper in hand, in his usual weekend wear of white t-shirt and plaid flannel lounge pants.

“Morning, bud!” he said brightly. “Long time no see.”

I smiled wide, relieved to hear his casual tone. If he was upset about the last time we saw each other it sure didn’t show. “Morning Sal. Where’s Mom?”

“Had a staff meeting at the hospital.”

“On a Saturday?” I croaked, blearily pouring coffee.

“Yup. Looks like they’re changing her shift again. She made the breakfast casserole thing.”

I joined him at the table, choosing the chair directly next to his. “Maybe later. How was your night job?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he replied with a rueful smile. “But I’m one step closer to that boat,” he added with a wink.

I grinned. It really was good to see him. But his wink reminded me of a similar image, in the cache of pics on my phone and laptop: my face coated in this man’s cum, one eye covered in a splatter of his thick cream— my kind of wink. My morning wood returned with a vengeance.

“What’s up for you today, bud?”

“Umm... this?” I chuckled. “Maybe video games. Maybe mall. I dunno.”

“Maybe homework?”

I peered at him out of the corner of my eye. “Mmm... maybe not.”

We settled into a comfortable silence, him flipping through the newspaper and me sipping my coffee. Then:

“Chase?” 

“Yeah?”

“About the other night... in your room.”

Here it was. My face blushed scarlet, my eyes fixed on the wood grain of the breakfast table. I gulped down a mouthful of coffee, as warm as the jizz I sucked off Sal’s cock on the night in question.

“...Yeah?”

“I’m... I’m really sorry about that, bud.” He set the newspaper down and looked at me fully. My eyes met his— warm hazel, crinkled with concern and regret. He brushed his thumb and forefinger over his bushy black mustache (a nervous habit I found adorable) and swallowed hard.

“I didn’t mean to... to do that,” he continued uncomfortably. “To uh... I mean, I didn’t mean to... to...”

“Cum on me?”

This time it was Sal’s turn to blush. He looked away, his expression pained. “Uh, yeah... that. And I just... I have no excuse for it, bud, and if I confused you, or scared you, or made you feel like...”

He trailed off, looking utterly forlorn. My heart ached for him. Not only was he not mad at me, but he was beating himself up over the whole thing! He thought I was emotionally scarred or something. I gave him a reassuring smile and smacked his arm playfully. “Sal, no need to apologize. I’m all good, man!”

He looked up, hopeful. “Really?”

“Yeah!” I chirped brightly. “I mean, you totally made me feel better about myself. I was so down on my looks, worried about what other people thought of me, but you were there for me. You talked me through it and you showed me everything was okay.”

I watched as my words made him bloom back into his jovial smile. God he was so... easy.  “You mean that, bud?” he asked. “Cause I’ve been feeling like shit about how I handled the whole thing.”

“You handled it great,” I reassured him, my mind flashing back to how I had handled him. “Thanks, Sal.”

We smiled at each other and my knee brushed his— casual, but purposeful on my part. Then I added, for good measure: “You didn’t tell Mom, did you?”

He snorted, scooping the newspaper back up with a smirk. “Shit no. Guy stuff, remember?”

I sighed, beaming. Oh, I remembered.

And my next plan was already fully formed.

With things back to normal and Sal between contracts, I had to force myself to be the cool, casual, well-behaved stepson again. No hint of sexual tension, no staring, no lingering near the bathroom when he was in it, no suggestive actions or remarks. We had to settle back into life at home before I could make my move again.

After a week and a half of being on my best behavior, I started to be bad. I snuck around the house in secret, using my recently acquired home improvement knowledge (thank you, internet) to surreptitiously sabotage a few key household items and appliances.

It started with the garage door. “Damn thing just stopped working,” Sal huffed through a mouthful of scrambled eggs the morning after I disabled the mechanism.

After breakfast Mom went to work in the garden and Sal retreated to the garage. I stood in the alcove and listened to him setting up his toolbox and ladder. A minute later I happened to pass by.

“Need some help?”

He was high up on the ladder, fiddling with the opening mechanism on the ceiling. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded. “Yeah, actually. Wanna hand me that wrench?”

I took him in as I approached: beefy frame extended upwards, his bulging arms overhead tinkering with the opener. A thatch of dark armpit fur peeked out of the sleeve of his white t-shirt, his belly button and generous treasure trail exposed as the hem of his tight shirt rode up to reveal six inches of manly paunch. I grabbed a wrench in one nervous hand and walked it to the ladder.

“This one?”

“Yep.” He looked down to grab it from me and the ladder lurched to one side, his weight suddenly unbalanced. “Oh shit... almost fell!” he exclaimed. “Damn ladder.”

My eyes flicked to the bent leg of the ladder, another product of my meddling. “Here, I’ll spot you,” I offered.

Without waiting for his assent, I got behind Sal and grabbed onto the ladder. I stepped onto the rungs beneath him, my sneakers planted on the rung directly below his work boots. My heart racing, I pressed my body into his and laced my arms around his exposed belly. The fur of his treasure trail raked against my naked, smooth forearms and sent a pulse of blood to my cock.

“Uh... thanks bud. Only gonna take a second.”

As he worked on the opener above us, my clinging arms began a slight, gentle downward pressure. Sal’s baggy contractor jeans were already two sizes too big for him— and with his overstuffed wallet, ever-present ring of keys, and my clasped arms all weighing down on them, those jeans didn’t stand a chance.

Sal huffed and grunted as he applied the wrench to a loosened bolt above us. All the while I silently adjusted myself lower on the ladder, gently taking his jeans with me. Slowly, the waistband of Sal’s white BVD briefs peeked out between the worn denim and swarthy skin above his rump. I inhaled deeply, my face inches from the cleft of his ass. I smelled laundry detergent, garage grease, and a hint of Sal’s intoxicating musk. I needed more.

“Ha... careful there, bud. Watch the ladder.”

“Oh, right,” I mumbled as I readjusted myself on the rickety ladder. I stepped up again and adjusted my arms around the waist of his jeans, this time placing my open palms on the exposed skin of his belly. He was warm and furry, beefy and sexy as fuck. My hard-on pressed into my own jeans as I started my subtle descent again.

This time Sal’s jeans slid down a little easier, over the crest of his buttocks and down his impressive bubble ass. “Damn pants, always falling down,” Sal muttered, his voice strained by his work. “Hang on bud, almost done. Remind me to get a belt one of these days, huh?”

“K. I’m just gonna let them fall,” I said softly as the jeans slipped from beneath my dragging arms and slid down his meaty thighs. I was now holding onto his exposed belly, my face just an inch from his brief-clad ass. His underwear had slid down a bit too, exposing the top inch and a half of his hairy ass crack. I dipped my nose into the dark cleft and inhaled deeply. There it was: that nutty, testosterone-laden scent I had sampled at our previous encounter. A low rumble crept into my throat as I hugged him tighter and breathed in a second hit.

“Fucking... stupid... how did this... arrgh!” Sal grunted above me. He jerked the wrench free of the opening mechanism but the sudden movement made the ladder lurch violently beneath us. We quickly adjusted our weight, shuffling our feet on the rungs, but the brief moment of imbalance jostled my face forward. It landed directly in Sal’s crack, my nose pressed into the white cotton fabric over his furry hole. I kept my face there even as our balance restored.

Sal tensed up in my arms, keenly aware of my face in his ass. He cleared his throat, suddenly still. I huffed his aroma again, noting that this time it was mixed with the earthy smell from his asshole. I sighed into the fabric, my hot breath exhaling through the cotton and into his hairy crack.

Sal grunted. “Uh, bud?”

I sniffed sharply, as if awaking from a doze. The heady scent of his ass filled my nose one more time before I reluctantly pulled away and gazed up his back.

 “Sorry, I was holding on tight. Thought we were both gonna fall!”

I readjusted my arms as Sal continued his work. He was starting to get a little sweaty, his swarthy skin now moist in the cramped heat of the garage. I continued a subtle downward pull at his waist, dragging the stretched elastic waistband of his underwear over the furry mounds of his ass cheeks. Now the top half of his crack was exposed, forested with curly black hairs that grew thicker near his obscured asshole. My cock was spewing pre-cum as I let my nose dip down into the triangle of space between his underwear and his two cheeks. The scent was stronger here, with no fabric in the way, and I couldn’t help but bump my nose into his impressive ass mounds as I tried to get a closer whiff.

Sal shifted uncomfortably and redoubled his efforts on the garage opener. “Almost there, bud,” he said with a strained voice— and so was I.

I watched as a trickle of perspiration formed on the small of his back and cascaded into his crack, disappearing into the thatch of dark hair. The tangy scent of ball sweat wafted up and hit my nostrils like a drug. My hands began to caress his exposed belly, tracing their way up under his white t-shirt. I loved the feel of his fur, dampened with a manly sheen of sweat, running between my spread fingers. Sal coughed above me and I knew it was now or never.

I stretched my right leg off to the side, purposefully throwing us off balance.

Sal yelped in surprise as the ladder jerked violently sideways. I took the opportunity to bury my face in his sweaty ass, diving nose first right into his exposed crack. Ass hair tickled my cheeks as I pressed my face in further, skin-on-skin with his beautiful butt. Sal jolted forward to balance our weight and his powerful glutes squeezed the sides of my face, drawing me in even further. My nose connected with his asshole and I inhaled deeply. The aroma was so strong, so manly, so forbidden. I nudged my face in further and my lips connected with the tight pucker of his ass lips— our first kiss.

I was drunk on his scent, high from lack of oxygen, and devoid of all reason. My tongue darted out without warning and slid over his hole, slathering him with my saliva. The taste of salty sweat, earthy ass, and tangy funk made my raging hard cock spew instantly. I cried out into Sal’s hole as I came, hands-free, my tongue darting around his puckered flesh. A sudden shift in Sal’s position made his cheeks spread and his tight virgin hole blossomed open for one beautiful moment. My tongue entered him instantly, connecting with the velvety walls of his inner anus. Sal grunted and his hole clamped down, ass lips squeezed around my invading tongue. It was the best French kiss I had ever experienced and the whole thing lasted maybe two, three seconds.

“Holy shit!” Sal breathed. “Bud, is that your... are you...?”

I speared my tongue into him one last time as my crushing orgasm subsided. I savored the flavor inside him, that manly hormonal tang with a hint of coppery sweetness. I hadn’t even realized that in our accidental moment, my hands had darted up under Sal’s shirt and connected with his hairy nipples. My fingers were clamped around both of his dark nubs, squeezing them to erection without even knowing it. It took all the restraint I had to finally pull my face out of Sal’s orifice and release his erect nipples with a self-conscious chuckle.

“Oh my God... I’m so sorry Sal!” I lied between shallow breaths. “I thought we were gonna fall and I just... just grabbed on for dear life, I guess!”

“Uh... s’okay,” he said hesitantly. “I could tell you were freaked, you screamed right into my ass!”

He laughed, and I joined him. But there was nothing funny about the way I felt. I was overwhelmed with lust, hungry for more of Sal’s delicious ass. I swallowed a mouthful of drool (spiced with stepdad hole) and took one last, longing look at Sal’s damp, hairy ass crack. “Here, sorry man.” I took the waistband of Sal’s briefs and snapped it up over the top of his rump. Sal cleared his throat in answer.

A second later the garage door buzzed to life and started to open.

“Bingo!” said Sal. We descended the rickety ladder (especially difficult for Sal, with his jeans pooled around his ankles) and surveyed our handiwork. I covered my crotch with both hands, hoping he wouldn’t notice the dark wet spot of spent load in my jeans. But as Sal bent to pull up his pants, I gazed longingly at his bubble ass— and could have sworn I saw his semi-hard cock tenting his white briefs before he re-buttoned his baggy jeans.

“Thanks for the help, bud.”

“My pleasure,” I said lightly as I sauntered off.

And that was only Phase One of Operation: Helping Hand.

To be continued...

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