Stepdad Becomes Real Dad

By Jim Selfie
© 2019. All Rights Reserved.
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I wish I could say that fucking my stepdad changed everything for the better. I wish I could say that it started a sexy new chapter in our relationship. But sadly, nothing could be further from the truth.

That night, I plodded up to my room with Sal’s cum dripping down my used ass, leaving a trail of watery footprints and jizz droplets in my wake. I stood in front of my full-length mirror and stared at myself. I don’t know what I was expecting to see— some marked change in my appearance, from virgin to non-virgin, some physical sign of manliness and maturity? But I was still the same old me, waifish and smooth with lanky honey blonde hair and bushy blonde pubes. I swiveled to take pictures of my cummy ass in the mirror, from every possible angle, and stored them on my secure site for future wanking. My torn briefs, soaked and muddied and stained with my cum and Sal’s, were placed in a plastic bag and tucked deep into my closet. I’d be using that memento for future wanking, too.

Then I proceeded to wipe Sal’s cum, one fingerful at a time, off my ass and into my hungry mouth. I savored the thick liquid, the salty tang with a hint of acrid bleach taste and a sweetness that lingered on my tongue long after. I swallowed every delicious drop and jerked myself off while I did it.

Occasionally I heard Sal down below, cleaning up the mess we made— well, to be fair, the mess I made. Mom would blow a gasket if she saw a flooded bathroom and we both knew it. Part of me wanted to go down and help out, but Sal had made it pretty clear that he needed some space. So I stayed up in my attic bedroom and jerked out load after load, thinking about Sal’s cock inside me.

When I finally did pass out a few hours later, my dick and balls aching from overuse, the upstairs bathroom was good as new. Mom came home from her late shift to find Sal passed out in front of the TV, beer in hand, pretty much like any other night.

Except it wasn’t any other night, and Sal and I both knew it.

The next day Sal was out of the house early and gone until late. I was on my own for dinner, which was usually fine by me. But now with Mom working late at the hospital and no Sal in sight, the house felt eerily lonely. I stole into their bedroom around seven, after spending hours promising myself I wouldn’t. I kept telling myself I would let my stepdad-crush cool it for at least one day... but fuck it.

I went straight to the hamper. I dove in, picking through Mom’s pajamas and Sal’s lounge pants, all the way to the bottom. There they were, tucked under everything else, balled up and still damp from the night before: Sal’s tightie whities.

My fingers trembled as I unfurled them, not from fear but from sheer horny adrenaline. I inspected the briefs, sniffed them, wrapped my lips around the cum stains on the worn elastic waistband. In the end I decided that this contraband was far too good for the laundry and ferried them up to my room, where I used them for two successive wanks before I stored them away with my own torn briefs for future sessions.

Sal came home late and went straight to bed. I didn’t see him that night or much of the week that followed. He was busy with a new contract for the city and I got busy with school and extracurriculars. We fell back into our old routine of avoiding each other, exchanging polite, empty greetings in the hall or kitchen as we passed. My heart still skipped a beat every time I saw him, in his paint-spattered plaid shirt and baggy contractor’s jeans, his rugged mustached face weathered from a hard day’s work. I wanted so badly to pounce on him and shove his cock inside me but I knew I had to be careful. Sal was more skittish and furtive than usual. He kept talk to a minimum and was careful to avoid my gaze. I knew he wasn’t going to tell Mom about what happened, but if I ever wanted a repeat performance I had to make myself scarce and let him get over it. Then I could make my next move.

And the plan was already forming.

With all our busy schedules, it had been weeks since Mom, Sal and I had time for a meal together. I planted the idea in Mom’s head that we needed a family night, some time to reconnect. It was no secret to her that Sal and I were in one of our off phases, and I let it slip that it was because I never saw him.

“How am I supposed to bond with the guy if he’s never around?” I asked her glumly one morning after Sal had been gone for hours.

Mom sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “We should do a movie night,” she said after a moment, with the finality of a decision already made.

“Awesome! Can I pick the movie?”

“Maybe... but no more of that sci-fi time travel stuff. It gives me a headache.”

So the date was set for Sunday, a rare evening off for all of us, to make dinner at home and watch a couple of movies. Hence the new plan:

Operation: Netflix and Chill.

In the days leading up to our movie night, I started casually bringing up my ‘sore back’ which I had ‘tweaked’ during a rigorous P.E. class. I hadn’t, of course, but I made just enough of a fuss about it that Mom took notice. She gave me the usual nurse’s advice (cold then hot, light massage, blah blah) but I insisted it was fine and that I would soldier through. In the meantime we went about planning our Sunday dinner, deciding we’d make a big Italian feast together because that was Sal’s favorite.

But on the appointed day, Sal was nowhere to be found. We knew he wasn’t at work but he wasn’t picking up his phone. Mom and I set about making dinner without him but we were both getting a little concerned as the evening wore on. Just as the lasagna was about to come out of the oven, we finally heard the front door jiggle open— with some difficulty— and Sal sauntered into the room, comfortably drunk.

“Honey baby, give me some sugar.”

Mom smacked him halfheartedly with the pot holders as he wrapped his hairy arms around her and squeezed tight. He growled and planted kiss after kiss on her face and neck, dousing her in whiskey breath until she laughed and screamed in mock anger.

“Get off me, you louse! You could have told me you were out with the boys.”

“Phone died, honey babe! No one has a charger for an old-ass phone like mine.”

“Tell me you didn’t drive home.”

“Naaaah, truck’s at the roadhouse. Mmmm smells good in here!”

 “Well you almost missed dinner.”

“Oh yeah?! Looks like I’m just in time!” Sal said, and flashed his signature toothy grin.

Mom’s heart melted and so did mine. It was just impossible to stay angry at the guy. His eyes flicked over to me and his grin widened. “Sup, buddy!” he said brightly. His meaty hand shot out and ruffled my hair, his calluses rough against my scalp. It was the most physical contact we’d had since our night on the bathroom floor. I broke out into a ridiculous smile and returned the greeting.

Dinner was fun and the wine flowed freely— not for me, of course, but Mom and Sal polished off a bottle of chianti between them. The wine combined with his day-drunk made Sal a little more red-faced and louder than usual. It was a relief to see him so animated after weeks of the awkward silent treatment. By the time we cleaned up, changed into our PJs, and retired to the TV room we were all feeling good— and I was ready to kick my plan into action.

It started with the movie. Sal picked the first flick, some generic action thriller he wanted to watch. It was nothing interesting or original but we were happy to humor him. I picked the second film, and if the night got that far I knew it would come in handy.

Then it was all about room placement. Sal had his usual spot on the couch, which was practically molded to him. The imprint of his shapely ass cheeks was permanently pressed into the seat cushion, worn by years of lazy nights and weekends drinking beer in front of the tube. Mom had taken to sitting in the armchair to the left of the couch, where she could work on her various knitting projects that she never finished. I usually sat on the other armchair, opposite hers, on the other side of the couch. But tonight, because of my ‘tweaked’ back, I chose to grab a throw pillow from the couch and lay out on the floor.

As Sal got the BluRay started, I laid gingerly on my stomach, affecting a small wince as I stretched out. I placed the throw pillow under my hips, ‘for support,’ and rested my chin on my hands. I was basically splayed out a few feet in front of Sal, facing the TV with my ass up, angled toward him. It was a decidedly sexual position and Sal definitely noticed: his telltale uncomfortable cough during the opening credits told me all I needed to know. I wiggled my ass a bit, trying to get comfy, but mostly just showing off for him. It was no accident that I had worn my tightest workout pants, powder blue with white racing stripes, made of elastic stretchy material that clung to my frame. With no underwear beneath them, the pants sunk into my crack and revealed my pert teen ass in all its glory.

During the first big car chase scene, I switched position again. This time I rested on my elbows, arching my back and jutting my ass up further in the air. From Sal’s position on the sunken couch, my cheeks were now just below the edge of the TV screen. He cleared his throat as I gyrated my rump ever so slowly before him.

“How’s your back, hon?” Mom asked. “That can’t be a comfy position.”

“It’s okay... sitting like this sort of helps.”

“Let me see it. A little backrub might help.”

I scooted over toward Mom’s chair and she shifted her knitting to one knee. On the screen, the action hero was shooting up a gang of thugs. On the couch, Sal was throwing back his second beer. Mom rubbed my upper back, her fingers digging into the taut muscles. It felt pretty good, but I had bigger plans.

“Thanks Mom,” I muttered glumly, “but it’s okay. I feel like I need more pressure to really make a difference.”

“Well, maybe Sal can help. He’s got stronger hands.”

“Huh?” Sal grunted, his attention torn from the screen.

“Sal, sweetie, Chase needs a backrub.”

“Oh... kay. So?”

I got up from the floor at Mom’s feet— a little too eagerly, I chided myself, and affected a stoop for good measure. I plopped down on the floor in front of Sal with a wince of affected pain.

“Would you mind, Sal? My back is killing me and Mom’s too gentle.”

Sal cleared his throat uncomfortably. I shuffled back on the carpet, my butt now between his socked feet, and pressed my back into his shins, thrilling at the contact. His conflict was palpable— it was just a backrub, right? Except we both knew it wasn’t. But with Mom watching, what choice did he have? If he refused, it would be much weirder than if he just did it.

So Sal reached out his meaty hands and grabbed onto my shoulders, tentatively at first, and then dug his thick thumbs into the flesh on either side of my spine. I shivered with pleasure. His strong hands felt so amazing I couldn’t help but let out a muffled groan as he dug in.

I savored his touch a few minutes more before I upped the ante. “Here, let me get this out of the way.” Without waiting for a reply, I whipped my t-shirt over my head and pressed my naked back into his hands. My flesh was hot, flushed from excitement. His callused hands paused against me. He coughed.

The action hero jumped off a tall building onto a helicopter. Sal sighed and dug in, massaging my smooth back.

I bit my lip in pleasure and leaned forward. “It’s even lower. Can you reach?”

Sal grunted in reply. His hands reluctantly travelled to the middle of my back and pressed into the muscles. He was really good at this— if I actually had been injured, this really would have helped. “Can you get the lower back?” I said huskily. “That’s where I really need it.”

I leaned forward, bare chest against my upraised knees, and presented myself to Sal. His expelled sigh against my skin sent a shiver up my spine. The couch squeaked as Sal shifted his weight, sitting forward so he could reach between his legs to my lower back.

Feeling his rough palms on the area above my ass sent waves of pleasure through me. My slowly rising chubby solidified into a raging boner, jutting painfully into my tight workout pants. Sal’s fingers kneaded the tender flesh above my ass cheeks, making deep circles on the small of my back. I shuffled a bit forward to raise my ass off the floor— on the next pass of his hands, Sal’s fingers slipped under the elastic waistband of my pants. Suddenly his fingers were on the top half of my ass, pressed into the tender flesh that he had unwittingly fucked just weeks before.

The memory struck us both, apparently, as I felt Sal’s hands jerk out of my pants. “There ya go, bud,” he said casually, punctuated by an uneasy cough and a manly slap to my shoulder. The couch squeaked under him as he settled back into his seat and downed half of his beer in three quick gulps.

“Thanks, Sal! You’re the best.”

It was now halfway through the movie and the action was really heating up for our hero. I stood up (with appropriately acted difficulty) and settled onto the couch next to Sal. His gaze flicked from the screen to me, clearly surprised that I was joining him rather than returning to the floor or taking my usual spot on the chair.

“Laying out feels better,” I said innocently. “Is this okay?”

I didn’t let him answer me, I just went for it. The couch was big enough for me to lie on, but just barely— and with Sal in his usual spot, there was no way we could avoid each other. I swung my feet up onto the cushions, shuffled closer to Sal, and laid my head down right on his thigh, facing the TV.

Sal let out his most uncomfortable throat clearing yet.

On screen, the action hero was tied to a chair, helpless before his captors.

Sal’s beefy thigh muscles tensed under my ear, his flesh practically vibrating with discomfort. I took a deep breath and sighed. “Thanks, Sal. This is the best my back has felt all week.”

Mom looked up from her knitting and clucked her approval. “Aw. My two boys, getting along.” Her needles clacked happily together.

The action hero screamed out in captive rage.

Sal took a deep breath, resigned to letting me lay in his lap. His muscles gradually relaxed and my head settled into his meaty thigh, half my face pressed into his flannel lounge pants. I grabbed the throw blanket behind us and tossed it over my prone body, adding the perfect layer of warmth... and privacy. Now I could squeeze my raging boner through my pants, hard, and  soak the stretchy fabric with my pre-cum. Fuck, this was so wrong... and so hot.

As the action hero made a daring leap to safety, I made a daring leap further into Sal’s lap. Feigning fright, I threw the blanket over my head and flipped around— so that my back was to the TV, my face towards Sal’s crotch.

“Ahem,” Sal coughed.

“These movies are so violent,” Mom grumbled. “I can’t even watch this.”

“Neither can I,” I called from beneath the blanket. My head was totally covered, and so was Sal’s lap in front of me.  I was in a hot, dark little blanket-cave centered right over my stepdad’s crotch. It was cozy and safe in there, despite the loud fighting noises from the TV. I snuggled in closer, curled beneath the blanket, and sighed contentedly. My plan was working perfectly!

Maybe a little too perfectly, in fact.

The next thing I knew, I was awakened by loud snoring. I hadn’t even realized I passed out! I was just too comfy in Sal’s lap— and there I was, still under the throw blanket, my head nestled in Sal’s crotch. His legs had fallen open a bit more, causing my face to shift further into him, my nose nearly touching his balls. Was he snoring? Or was Mom? Either way, I didn’t care. I shifted in a little more, rubbing my nose into Sal’s hot nether regions.

“I want you to fuck me.”

It was like the woman on TV just read my mind and spoke my thoughts aloud.  That’s when I realized that we had switched over to my movie of choice: The Red Nikita, a French arthouse thriller that was basically a thinly-plotted hardcore lesbian porn.  It was just heady enough to fall under Mom’s radar but just sexy enough to get Sal hard. I knew that it would speak to his dirtier nature, especially since the lead actress resembled the blonde, busty girls he couldn’t keep his eyes off of at the local mall. 

“I want you to fuck me,” she repeated onscreen. Above me, Sal cleared his throat— his nervous gesture now decidedly deeper, hungrier.

Meanwhile, the loud snoring continued. Now I could tell it was coming from Mom’s armchair a few feet away; she had fallen asleep sometime after switching over the movie discs, I figured. But Sal was still wide awake, and apparently enjoying my movie choice.

Perfect.

I shifted my weight a little, feigning a light snore of my own, and put my hand up next to my face— right on top of Sal’s flannel-covered bulge.

It was hot to the touch, inflated with blood, swollen with lust. Sal shifted beneath me as my hand gently cupped him, my thumb and forefinger closing on his growing tube. It pulsed between my fingers.

Girls moaned on the television.

Mom snored in the armchair.

Sal breathed deeply above me. His cock shifted in his flannel lounge pants. I gleefully realized that he was going commando. There was just one thin layer of flannel between Sal’s manhood and my hand. I snuggled my face in closer, burying my nose in the mound of his balls. That familiar, nutty scent rose to meet me. His balls were unwashed, coated in a day’s sweat, exuding testosterone. I hummed into Sal’s crotch and shifted my hand ever so slightly up and down on his clothed cock.

“Fuck yes, Nikita! You’re making me feel so good...”

Two sexy blondes fingered each other on the TV.

Sal shifted slightly as he grabbed another beer from the end table. He cracked it open as quietly as he could and promptly downed six or seven big gulps. His stomach gurgled, just a few inches away from my head, as he shifted back slightly and let out a muffled belch. He was settling in.

His cock lurched under my hand. It was so close, so close to my face. So close...

“Yeah, Nikita, Fuck me. Do it.”

“Fuck,” Sal whispered.

His cock jumped again and I felt a sudden wetness against my cheek. He was dripping pre-cum, I realized, and it was soaking through his flannel pants and onto me. The thought of his precious liquid absorbing into that fabric (when it should have been absorbing into me) drove me absolutely crazy.

My next move was graceless, tactless, and very ill-thought: I simply pulled Sal’s waistband down and set his cock free.

He gasped as it flopped out, between the throw blanket and his thighs, finally free of the confines of his pants. It was too dark under the blanket to see its details but the thick column of flesh was unmistakable, proud and hard, emanating heat and hormones. A whiff of stale crotch accompanied its reveal, hitting me like a drug.

My face hadn’t been this close to Sal’s cock since the time I jerked him off. My mouth watered. I leaned in closer, my lips opening—

“What is this?” Mom said groggily.

I froze. Sal’s thigh immediately tensed beneath my head, shifting me up an inch. Adrenaline coursed through me, my heart raced. Were we caught? Holy fuck, what had I done?!

“Is this some porno, Sal?”

My breath shuddered out of me. She was talking about the movie, not us. Come to think of it, Mom wouldn’t be able to see us from her vantage point anyway with the end table and lamp in the way. She certainly didn’t comment on the obscene tent in the blanket caused by Sal’s still-erect cock.

“It’s an art film honey babe,” he slurred. “Chase picked it.”

“Where is Chase? Did he go to bed?”

I sensed the end. Very soon this would all be over, now that Mom was awake, and I would inevitably be pulled away from Sal’s cock.

Perhaps that’s why I did it, why I chose that exact moment. Maybe that’s why I wrapped my hand around Sal’s erect cock, bent it down toward my open mouth, and swallowed half of it down my throat.

“Waah... oh... oh, Chase... oh he’s...” Sal was incoherent. I nestled my head in further, really opened my throat, and gulped down another two inches of his meat. I still couldn’t take all seven and three-quarters of him, but I had most of his beautiful uncut cock wedged deep in my tight throat, my muscles flexing around his exposed cockhead.

“He’s asleep,” Sal lied, his voice strained. A spurt of pre-cum drenched my tonsils. Sal tried to shift away from me, further into the couch, but I followed right along with him.

“Well, I’m going to bed, too,” Mom said with a yawn. “Too much wine!”

“Fuck me harder, Nikita!” the actress whined.

Sal shifted, coughed uncomfortably. Mom laughed at the screen. “Okay, that’s my cue. You enjoy, stud.”

I heard her footsteps and my heart pounded all over again. Holy shit... Mom was approaching from the chair! Sal squirmed beneath me, the couch squeaking in alarm. He was fighting, as subtly as he could, to free his hard cock from my mouth. But even now I refused to let him go: if I backed off too much now, Mom would certainly notice. Sensing my tactic, Sal gave up and draped his arms over my head and shoulders, obscuring my shape beneath the blanket. The action only pressed me into him further and lodged Sal’s cock deeper in my throat. And Mom was just footsteps away!

I felt her approach, my every sense keenly attuned to her movements. She stepped around behind the couch, careful not to obstruct Sal’s view of the ‘art film,’ and leaned down to give him a goodnight kiss. She obviously didn’t notice her own son curled up beneath the blanket, head buried in her husband’s crotch.

She did, however, place a hand on Sal’s shoulder as she bent down to give him a peck on the lips. The sudden weight pushed his arm down, which in turn pushed my head down, and suddenly Sal’s cock was balls-deep in my straining throat.

My eyes bulged. My nose was full of wiry black pubes. I couldn’t breathe. My throat was so full of cock— seven and three-quarter inches of it, hard and throbbing.

I heard them kiss above me. Sal let out a stifled moan. It must have felt so good to him, but my untrained throat was about to gag and alert Mom to my presence. If I could just had to hold out a bit longer!

My throat squeezed down, my gag reflex firing, lungs desperate for air. My straining muscles only milked Sal’s cock even more, peeling his tight foreskin up and over his swollen head. A steady stream of pre-cum poured out of him and dribbled down my esophagus.

“Enjoy the movie, hon,” Mom said blearily. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Her shuffling footsteps faded away, down the hall and up the stairs. I pulled back when I was sure it was safe, letting out a stifled cough as I finally caught my breath.

Holy fuck. That was close.

Sal breathed deeply above me, as disbelieving and relieved as I was, both of us sharing in the adrenaline rush.

But were we done? Or were we just getting started?

As if in answer, the actress on TV squealed: “Ooh it feels so good! Don’t stop! Fuck me, fuck me hard!”

The pressure on my head and shoulders lifted. Sal removed his arms and sat back, reaching for his next beer. It cracked open over my head, this time loud and unabashed. Sal gulped it down hard, his throat flexing audibly around each swallow of cheap booze.

He wasn’t trying to stop me. He wasn’t trying to encourage me, either. He was just sitting there as usual, kicking back, drinking his beer.

“That’s it! Fuck me!”

I reached out and grabbed onto Sal’s still-hard cock. It was slathered in my spit, slimy and dripping. A tuft of fuzz from the blanket clung to his veiny skin— I picked it away and gazed lovingly at my stepdad’s cock.

Then I took it back into my mouth.

“Yes, Nikita! Yes!”

“Oh fuck.”

“Yes! Fuck me!”

“Fuuuuuck.”

This time I wasn’t trying to swallow him hastily. This time I was exploring. I had never sucked a cock before but I had practiced plenty of times— every popsicle, every banana, every carrot and cucumber I encountered was just a dick substitute to me. I already knew how to cover my teeth, how to use my tongue, how to suck the tip and stroke the base. But there was still so much to learn.

For one, popsicles don’t have foreskin— and Sal did. He had a lot of it, too. My lips closed around the loose tip of flesh drawn up around his piss slit. My tongue entered the fold of skin, slipping into the space between cockhead and prepuce. I traced the full circumference of that space, edged under the ridge of his head, using my hand to peel the skin up and back over my tongue. Sal moaned above me and gulped more beer.

And that was just the tip! Below that were many more inches of cock, crisscrossed with bulging veins, hard as steel yet warm and velvet-soft to the touch. I pressed my lips into those raised veins, kissing and licking them, tracing them with my tongue. Then I hungrily gulped down the entire cock, ramming his leaking slit against my tonsils again and again.

And that was just the cock! Below that were Sal’s oversized, musky balls— two perfect, egg-shaped testicles covered in soft, wrinkly skin and long, thick black pubes. I cupped them in my hand, rolled them around in my palm , felt them constrict and relax as Sal’s internal muscles flexed along with his cock. Then I came off Sal’s cock and slathered his ripe nuts with my tongue, bathing them in a mouthful of accumulated saliva and pre-cum.

“Fuck yeah,” Sal muttered above me.

My lips closed around one of his balls and I slurped it in, encasing his scrotum in my warm, wet mouth. Sal groaned as my tongue circled the heavy orb, perfectly fit between my teeth and palette. His ball skin was sticky with sweat, rank from a long day cramped in his sweaty old briefs. I savored the sharp taste of him, the manly, almost nutty tang that clung to his testes and absorbed onto my taste buds. I licked every inch of both balls, suckling on each in turn, as my hand slowly jerked his hard cock.

“Nikita! I’m so close!”

Sal grunted and shifted down further into the couch. I used the opportunity to shift my weight along with him and get a better angle for deepthroating.

My face was sweaty, the air beneath the blanket stuffy and ball-scented. I almost threw the blanket off and continued without it. But it occurred to me that the blanket was part of why this was working so well for Sal. Of course he knew that it was me down there, his own stepson, swallowing his steel-hard rod. But somewhere in the back of his mind, in that lizard-brain, caveman reflex that controls our baser functions, he could pretend that the mouth on his cock belonged to the busty naked blonde onscreen— or Mom, or any number of hot chicks, real or imagined.

Beneath the blanket I could be anyone or no one at all; I could be anonymous, like all those gloryhole videos I loved so much. And all he cared about was the hot mouth on his meat, not who it belonged to.

So I kept the blanket in place and kept servicing him. Sal could pretend and justify all he wanted, but I reveled in the truth: I was blowing my stepfather. And my Mom, his wife, almost caught us. It was so taboo, so wrong.

And it didn’t stop either of us.

“Fuck, Nikita, you’re gonna make me cum!” cried the busty blonde on TV, her high-pitched whines echoing in stereo surround sound.

Sal huffed noisily over my bobbing head. His pelvis jutted up and down in a lazy hump-motion, his thick cock fucking my mouth. My lips were swollen, sore from covering my teeth, but I felt like I could go all night. My face rode Sal’s cock up and down, working his foreskin, tightening over his exposed head. My loud slurping sounds rose to join the orgasmic mewling of the blondes onscreen. Sal joined in, grunting and groaning with every flex of my hungry throat.

The living room was filled with the lewd sounds of sex. It was like an orgy— all of us encouraging each other’s pleasure, building it together, egging each other on. We didn’t care that Mom was just upstairs. Sal’s groans became moans, deep and almost mournful. His damp butt cheeks clenched, his sweaty thighs vibrating with urgency. His musty nuts rolled up in my palm, still sticky from my spit. I slurped Sal’s cock up and down, loud and unashamed, thrilled to feel it swell up even further in my used mouth.

“Nikita I’m cumming! Uuuuuhhh!”

“I’m gonna cum.”

Sal’s thick cock pulsed in my throat, belching out a stream of pre-jizz that would have put any man’s load to shame. His cock was impossibly long and fat, harder than ever, his exposed head angry for release. I kept sucking. I shoved him as far into my throat as he could go. My gag reflex kicked in and almost brought up a mouthful of lasagna; I fought it back and kept Sal in my throat. I tasted bile and the sweet tang of Sal’s cum. My throat muscles were insistent around his exposed head, which swelled up even further than I thought it could.

“I’m gonna cum in your mouth if you don’t get off,” Sal muttered in a strained voice.

I grumbled an answer, completely unintelligible with his cock lodged in my throat. My vocal cords vibrated around Sal’s erection and he groaned deeply.

“I’m gonna cum in your mouth if you don’t get off,” he repeated, louder this time.

He tried to pull back, retreat into the couch, but I followed him again. I shoved his cock further into me, fighting my gag reflex with all my willpower.

“I’m gonna cum in your mouth if you don’t get off!” Sal’s voice rose in pitch. “I’m gonna cum... oh God!... gonna cum in your mouth!”

He sounded so alarmed, so insistent, so helpless.  Sal bucked beneath me, fighting to pull his cock from me. I pressed my full weight into his lap, humming around his cock, determined not to let him pull out.

This time I was going to get the load.

“I’m gonna cum in your mouth if you don’t... I’m gonna cum in your mouth! You want me to cum in your mouth?!”

“Mmmmghgmm!”

“You want it? You want my cum down your throat?”

“Mmmghh!” Slurp, slurp. “Mmmfffghh!”

“Aw fuck I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum I’m cumming oh I’m cumming oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!”

In the moment before it happened, Sal stopped fighting. His ass lifted off the couch. He pressed down on my head. He gave up on trying to get my mouth off him, and instead went as deep as he could go. He fucked his cock into me and held me on it as he bellowed:

“UUUUHHH take my cum!”

The first shot was like an injection, deep into my esophagus, far beyond my mouth and taste buds. Sal fired his load directly down my throat, coating my insides with clumpy white cum. My gag reflex returned with a vengeance and I coughed violently, pulling back off his cock against my will. The next shot of jizz sprayed my tonsils with the pressure of a squirt gun, like ketchup exploding out of a stubborn nozzle. It drenched my throat in thick slime, lubricating my punished muscles as I desperately tried to swallow.

“UH! UH! FuUUuck! Uh!”

Spray after spray of Sal’s cum shot into my mouth. Three, four, five.

I swallowed, gagged, swallowed some more. Six, seven, eight shots.

It was salty, hot and thick, tinged with bleach-y aftertaste. Nine, ten.

I coughed and cum shot out of my nose, spraying his wiry bush. Eleven, twelve.

All I could taste was cum, all I could breathe was cum. And Sal’s cock just kept pulsing.

“Uh! Unnhh. Oooh.” Thirteen, fourteen.

My throat couldn’t keep up. My cheeks were bulging, mouth full to bursting with my stepdad’s thick load. I swallowed with a loud gulp, felt the hot mouthful travel down into my belly. Two more shots of fresh cum bathed my tongue. I rolled the jizz around in my mouth, coated Sal’s cock with it, savored the flavor of his hard leaking dick in me.

Sal panted, cursed. His entire body trembled. He settled back into the couch and sighed deeply, utterly sated.

I continued suckling, nursing my stepdad’s cock for every drop of seed he had. I massaged his sweaty balls, coaxing another droplet of jizz from him. He just breathed steadily above me, drenched in afterglow. I was full, warm, satisfied, my crotch damp with my own spent load. I was happier than I’d ever been.

And it was all over too soon.

The next thing I knew, the blanket was torn off of us. Cool air rushed in, breaking the warm, almost tropical atmosphere of our damp sweaty cave. Sal looked down at me, my lips still pursed around the tip of his dribbling cock.

Our eyes met. The light of the TV danced on his face, giving him an eerie indigo glow. I was surprised to see his features contorted in anger— his usually warm hazel eyes fiery with rage, his bushy mustache curled up in a sneer. It would have been sexy if it wasn’t so terrifying.

Before I could pull off his cock, Sal reached down with both hands and grabbed my face— forceful, bordering on too rough— and looked deep into my eyes. My lips were still closed around his softening dick, my tongue inserted into the soft O of his foreskin.

“That was the last time.”

Sal dug his thick thumb into my cheek. My eyes bulged in terror; I had never seen him this pissed. He looked like he wanted to kill me. His face shifted in the TV glow.

“You hear me?”

His thumb slid down toward my lips, pressing against the side of his deflating dick. His eyes never left mine. The pressure from his thumb continued, pushing past my trembling lips. I now had his cock and his thumb in my mouth. I whimpered.

“That.”

 Sal pressed his thumb against my tongue. I tasted cum— he was still leaking.

“Was the last.”

His thumb went in further. My lips stretched to accommodate him. My eyes welled. But I didn’t want to cry, not like this.

My stubborn streak lashed out. I activated my tongue, caressing Sal’s invading thumb.

He flinched. I kept it up.

“...Time.”

My eyes narrowed, but did not leave his. I imagined how I must look to him: his waifish stepson, bedraggled blonde hair, shirtless and sweaty, lips puffy from cocksucking. And, of course, I still had his penis in my mouth. In fact, he hadn’t left my mouth since he came in it.

We sat there for a moment longer, both of us still except for my tongue. I made a figure eight around his thumb and his cockhead, flicking his foreskin with every pass. I was rewarded with another trickle of watery cum, the especially fragrant after-jizz that I loved so much.

We never broke eye contact.

Then he got up, not taking any care to remove me from his lap, and walked out of the room, pulling up his flannel pants as he went.

I sat there in stunned silence, splayed out on the couch, still tasting him, still feeling his vice-like grip on my face, still frightened of what I saw in his eyes.

And so, so, so fucking hard.

I finished Red Nikita three loads lighter and ended up so drenched with my own cum that I had to take a quick shower before bed.

And as the hot water washed over me, relaxing my muscles and cleansing my skin, I thought about what Sal had said.  My stomach grumbled, digesting his cum as my brain digested his words.

That was the last time.

I snorted, my throat still thick with Sal’s load. “Fuck that.”

That wasn’t going to be the last time.

And we both knew it.

* * *

To be continued...

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