Stepdad Becomes Real Dad

“Is something going on with you and Sal?”

I looked up from my Cheerios in surprise, milk dribbling from my lower lip. “Huh?”

Mom sighed and set down her coffee mug. “You heard me. Is something going on with you and Sal?”

It was Sunday morning and we were at the breakfast table, still in our PJs. Sal had already been at work for hours. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and swallowed hard.

“Um... why do you ask?”

Mom gave me a concerned look. “Ever since our movie night I don’t think I’ve seen you say two words to each other. I thought you were getting along so well.”

Boy, was she right. I flashed back to the night in question, when I sucked a huge load from Sal’s uncut cock— right next to Mom, who had no idea. I turned away from her, feeling suddenly guilty and horny.

“Yeah, I... I thought so, too,” I said glumly.

The truth is, Sal was more distant than ever. He was working his ass off, for one thing: he had his regular job with the city plus a few odd jobs on the side, all of which were in their busy season. When he came home late at night he was usually dead tired and asleep within the hour. But in the precious few minutes we did spend together each day, he and I barely spoke. I guess he intended to make good on his promise of “the last time” but it seemed a little overboard to me— and now Mom was noticing, too.

She picked up her mug and took a thoughtful sip. “Well, maybe once he gets his boat you two can have some real bonding time.”

Again with the boat, I thought to myself. Sal had never gone fishing even once in all the years we’d known him, but somehow he was still obsessed with owning a fishing boat. Though lately, I had to admit that his vague promises to “take me out on the lake someday” were particularly appealing now that we had crossed a sexual line.

My only regret was that we hadn’t crossed that line more often. The days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. My horniness and obsession with Sal only grew as the memory of our encounters became more distant. I had blown countless loads thinking about those times. I cherished the mementos of our sordid hookups— the torn, stained undies from our bareback fuck on the bathroom floor, the pics of my face painted with Sal’s cumload— but I was ready to make some new memories.

I just needed a new plan.

Meanwhile, as a substitute for the real thing, I began raiding Sal’s laundry on a regular basis. Whenever I was home alone, which was pretty often given my parents’ busy work schedules, I would quietly stalk into the master bedroom and begin my detective work. My job was to find everything that Sal had worn, the more recently the better, and sniff and lick and suck every bit of his essence from the clothing. Anything that had touched his body was fair game, from his sour-smelling socks to the damp, deeply-stained armpits of his T-shirts.

His briefs, of course, were the ultimate prize. I plucked them from the tangled pile in the hamper, lifting them gently like a rare and revered artifact. I inspected every inch of the dingy white cotton, turning it slowly in my hands. From the yellow droplets of piss stained in the front to the musky ass sweat seasoning the back, Sal’s underwear offered a carnival for my senses. I pressed the fabric to my nose, inhaling every particle of my stepdad’s aroma. I huffed the acrid piss stench, rubbed the musky, earthy ass-scent all over my face. My cock throbbed and poured pre-cum as I pictured Sal’s meaty genitals encased in this fabric.

I imagined his hefty uncut cock bunched up on top of his heavy egg-shaped balls, constricted in sweaty, smelly cotton during a sixteen hour workday. I wondered how many boners he popped throughout the day, how many times that cock rose up and fought against the fabric that kept it prisoner. Were any of these stains pre-cum, souvenirs from Sal’s constantly drooling cockhead? Just in case, I sucked the fabric into my mouth, collecting samples of all of Sal’s fluids and mixing them with my own saliva.

But I wanted more. I wanted Sal’s flesh, not just his clothes. I wanted his cum, not just his stale, leftover piss and sweat stains. I missed him... missed plotting and scheming to seduce him. We were so long overdue. But I was fresh out of ideas.

That is, until I noticed the wrapper.

If it wasn’t for my constant detective work in Mom and Sal’s room, I never would have seen it. I was on my way to the hamper, passing close to the bed, when a glint of silver on the floor caught my eye. I bent down to inspect it and saw that it was a strip of foil, printed with a logo and text... the top of a condom wrapper.

“What the fuck?” I whispered to myself.

I renewed my search efforts, looking under the bed, around the nightstand, even between the sheets. Nothing. It wasn’t until I stepped into the en suite bathroom that I saw it, in the small trash can near the toilet, beneath the balled-up tissues and used Q-tips: a used condom, tied at the base, shiny and still slick with lube.

And the nipple-shaped tip was bloated with an oversized snow-white cum load.

Jackpot.

My heart raced as I pinched the latex between thumb and forefinger and lifted it to eye level. The condom was an off-yellow color, transparent and surprisingly heavy. Thick white jizz pooled halfway up its length like a water balloon filled with clotted cream. The load sloshed heavily as I turned the condom over and over in my trembling hands. I could hardly believe my eyes: it was one of Sal’s obscene cum loads, preserved as if in amber, waiting for me.

I untied the base methodically, careful not to spill a drop. When it was open, I peered down the length of the condom from above, stuck my nose in to smell its contents— then tipped it up to my lips and upended the load into my hungry mouth.

The temperature was different, colder, but the taste was exactly the same as I remembered from our movie night. Salty, bleach-y tang overtook my taste buds as I rolled the thick jizz around in my mouth, squelched it between my teeth, and stirred it with my tongue. I pulled my hard cock out of my jeans and stroked as I gargled Sal’s day-old load.

Then I had a brilliant idea: the limp latex was still coated in a film of seminal fluid, sticky and slick as lube. So I rolled up the condom and used the last vestiges of Sal’s cum to easily slide it over my own cock.

I was now wearing the same condom Sal had worn, my cock in the exact same sheath he had been inside. It didn’t take long for me to fill that condom again with my own watery teenage load. When I peeled it off again my jizz pooled at the tip, only about a third as full as Sal’s original load. I drank it all the same, pouring my own sperm into my mouth to mix with my stepdad’s before I finally swallowed the whole lot.

It wasn’t quite as good as straight from the tap, but for the moment I was satisfied.

But a few hours later, as I lay on my bed and lazily jerked out another load, I began to wonder: why would Mom and Sal be using condoms?

I thought they wanted to have a kid— next to the fishing boat, having a kid was Sal’s favorite dinnertime conversation. He wanted to be a dad, a real Dad, more than anything else. So why would he be using a condom with Mom?

Unless...

My heart skipped a beat. Could he...? Was it possible that Sal was wearing a condom because he was fucking someone else, other than Mom?

Other than me?

My face got red even as my dick throbbed harder. Sal wouldn’t be having an affair— would he? Not with someone else, I mean. He wouldn’t do that to Mom. He wouldn’t do that to me.

Would he?

I mean, he wasworking a lot, and he was almost never home. He certainly could be getting a piece on the side during some of those hours. But that condom was in our trash— when would he possibly have time to sneak some strange bimbo into the house, fuck her, and get away with it?

Unless...

Occasionally Sal mentioned stopping home for lunch during his workday. Sometimes I would come home from school to find the evidence of his presence: bread left out, crumbs on the counter, dishes left unwashed in the sink. It was the perfect time for Sal to be sneaky, when Mom was at work and I was at school. Could these lunchtime excursions just be an excuse to invite over some dumb blonde slut, Sal’s favorite kind of woman? Could he actually be pounding some other woman, right on the same bed he shares with Mom?

Somehow this thought enraged me, even as it made me insanely jealous. If Sal was fucking around on Mom (and me), I was determined to find out.

I waited until the following week, on a day when I knew Mom would be busy with meetings at the hospital. Sal left for work just after dawn, as usual. I went through the motions of getting ready for school but never actually left the house. Once Mom took off in her Camry around seven-thirty, I threw my backpack down in my bedroom and settled in to wait.

If Sal was having an affair, this was the day he was likely to do it— and I was going to catch him in the act.

Hence the plan... Operation: Stakeout.

* * *

I guess they say stakeouts are about ninety-nine percent waiting, but... man, it gets reallyold.

I basically waited around upstairs, within earshot of the front door and the garage, for about three and a half hours straight. I checked the windows periodically for signs of his truck. I finished all my schoolwork, played muted games on my phone. I scrolled through all the dirty pics on my secure site. Still nothing. Sal’s lunch hour came and went, and still no sign of him.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe it was totally innocuous.

Maybe it was just a condom full of my stepdad’s cum.

Maybe I was just a horny, loser idiot with a stupid schoolboy crush. What was I doing?! I felt so dumb.

I needed a pick-me-up— and I knew just where to get it.

But when I got to the master bedroom, the clothes hamper was empty. Someone actually did the laundry for once? I thought ruefully. Perfect timing. I bit my lip and gazed around the room, desperate for some fragrant memento of Sal’s that I could jerk off with.

Maybe...

I crept into the en-suite bathroom like an addict fiending for his next fix. Maybe I’d get lucky... a forgotten pair of briefs on the floor? a pubic hair on the toilet seat? even a whiff of his body odor?

But what I found was much more tantalizing, and perplexing. Because there, right on top of the trash, was another used condom, glistening with lube and natural fluids, bulging with a load of bright white cum.

“Holy shit.”

I plucked it out gingerly and took a whiff. A new and pungent scent met my nostrils. Was this what pussy smelled like? I wrinkled my nose and cupped the dangling, load-laden tip in my free hand.

My God... it was still warm.

Sal’s cum filled the lower half of the latex sheath. It must have been from that morning, before he and Mom went to work— I had checked the trash the day before and certainly hadn’t seen this prize in there. So I was wrong, and Mom and Sal were using condoms. Relief washed over me as my excitement built: not only was Sal not having an affair, but I now held his semi-fresh cum load in my hands. At that moment, all I cared about was playing with Sal’s sperm and spraying some of my own.

I guess that’s why I didn’t hear him come in.

“What the fuck?!”

I jumped. An involuntary yelp escaped my lips. The loaded condom slipped from my fingers and hit the tile with a wet smack.

Sal stood five feet away, in his work clothes, drenched in sweat. His bushy black mustache twitched above his full lips. His hazel eyes flicked from my face to the condom and back again.

“Chase... what the hell are you doing in here?”

“Uh...”

For the first time in a long time, I was at a total loss for words. How the hell had I not heard him come in? I was so preoccupied with the full condom that I let my guard down— and now, instead of catching Sal in the act, he had caught me.

“Bud,” he said sternly, “shouldn’t you be in school?”

I was frozen in shock, my face red with embarrassment. All I could muster was a weak nod.

“What are you doing in my bathroom?” Sal asked coldly. His eyes bored into mine. “And what is that?”

My heart almost leapt out of my chest. I looked down at the condom, curled at my feet like a limp and bloated snake.

“It’s... uh... it’s a... condom?” I stammered.

“I know that part, bud.”

“It’s, um... I was...” I took a deep breath and blurted this next part out, barely aware of what I was saying: “They showed us this video in health class about how to put these on but I never tried it and I don’t know how and I want to have sex so I have to learn and I was in here to pee because I had to go really bad and I couldn’t wait to go upstairs so I just came in here and I saw it in the trash and it was tied and I was wondering how you got it on like that so I picked it up to see if it—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, bud, slow down,” Sal interrupted. “Let’s start with why you’re out of school.”

“We had a minimum day,” I lied desperately. Then, in an effort to deflect: “What are you doing here? I thought you were at work.”

Sal glanced down at his t-shirt, dark with sweat. “Got too overheated on the jobsite and the foreman sent me home to shower. Don’t change the subject.”

Sal took a step in closer, his face perplexed. “What the hell were you doing with that?” His eyes flicked down to the condom, still curled lewdly on the floor.

I blushed again. Without thinking, I bent down and snatched it up. Sal’s load sloshed audibly within the limp latex.

“I was just... I mean, I’ve never used a condom before and... I wasn’t expecting to see one here, you know?” I said, picking up steam as I went. “I mean, I was mostly just curious how it got here.”

I offered him the condom in my outstretched hand. The balloon of semen drooped between my spread fingers. Sal looked repulsed, but did not shy away.

“Are you having an affair?” I blurted out, surprising us both.

“What? No! Of course not.”

“Are you... jerking off with condoms?”

“No... why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know!” I said hurriedly, though I had seen a few amateur videos on that very subject. “So you’re... you’re using them with Mom?”

Now it was Sal’s turn to blush. “It’s not really any of your business, Chase,” he said sternly. Then, after a moment: “But... yes. Yes, we’re using condoms.”

“But... I thought you guys wanted to have a baby.”

Sal sighed and looked away. The anger drained from his expression and he looked truly forlorn. “Yeah. I thought so too.” He wiped his bushy mustache, the nervous habit I’d come to adore. “Your Mom says we still will... sometime. Just not right now.”

“Can’t she just like... take the pill? Or some other birth control?”

“She hates what it does to her body.”

“Oh,” I answered softly. An awkward pause settled over the bathroom. Sal and I avoided each others’ eyes. Poor guy, I thought. He seems really broken up about this...

“You gonna put that back in the trash where you found it?”

“Oh. Right.” I peered down at the loaded condom in my hands and imagined that precious seed in the trash— what a waste! I reluctantly turned and tossed it back in the garbage, where it sank to the bottom of the can with a thunk.

“I gotta take a shower, bud. I stink,” Sal said with a sniff. His work boots were already off and he peeled his sweat-drenched socks from his feet as he spoke. No wonder I didn’t hear him come in...The sour stench of Sal’s feet wafted to my nose and I inhaled it greedily. Even his worst scents seemed to work wonders on my brain— and cock.

“You all done in here?” he asked impatiently.

“Yeah, I’ll go, I just...” I moved as if to exit, but hesitated on my way past Sal. He stopped and stiffened, clearly uncomfortable in this close proximity.

“Yeah?” he asked warily.

I took a deep breath through my nose, pretending to steel myself— but really just perving out on my stepdad’s rank sweat smell. Standing this close I was bathed in his manly aroma, the sharp scent of his body odor after a long day’s work. I made a mental note to find every article of clothing he was wearing in the laundry hamper later.

“I was wondering...” I said after a moment, “if I could... um... have some of those?”

Sal blinked. “Some... condoms?”

I looked away, feigning discomfort. But I was getting more comfortable by the second. The surprise of Sal’s discovery had worn off and I was finding my footing again— in fact, maybe I could turn this whole thing around. “Yeah. Would that be okay? Because... um...”

Sal softened. I sensed the paternal energy taking over, clouding his better judgment. “Hey. All good, bud. You don’t have to explain.”

Sal moved past me, his bare feet leaving sweaty prints on the tiled floor. He reached into one of the drawers beneath the sink and pulled out a box of large-sized condoms. He handed them to me with a wry smile. “Here. Take the box.”

I returned the smile and accepted the box, making sure to subtly caress his rough, callused hand as I did. “Thanks, Sal. You’re the best.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said with a wink. Then added: “Seriously, don’t mention it... to your Mom, I mean. She and I haven’t exactly talked about you being, um... sexually, uh, active... and I don’t want her to think I’m, you know, encouraging you.”

Oh, if he only knew how much he was encouraging me. “Promise,” I said truthfully. “Mom will never find out.”

He nodded, satisfied, and turned back toward the shower. I took my time leaving and watched in the mirror as he peeled off his sweaty t-shirt. I was almost to the hall when I turned back, ready with a new plan.

“Hey Sal?”

“Huh?” he said with a start. Sal whipped around, surprised to see me back in the room. I drank in his naked torso— the broad shoulders, the beefy pecs covered in black hair, the furry paunch over the sagged waist of his work pants. A slight sheen of sweat made his skin glow in the afternoon light.

Fuck. This man was a blue collar wet dream.

I gulped a mouthful of drool before I asked, in my meekest voice: “Can you show me how to put it on?”

Sal stared at me blankly for a moment. Then he cleared his throat, his telltale sign of discomfort. He wiped his thumb and forefinger over his mustache again, this time slower.

“Uh... that’s not... I mean there’s instructions on the... it’s pretty simple, bud—”

“No, I know,” I spoke over him, “but my friend Geoff said that his cousin put one on wrong one time and got a girl pregnant and had to drop out of school and it kinda ruined his life.”

Sal gave me a skeptical look. “You worried about getting a girl pregnant?”

I shrugged. Not even close. “Among other things, yeah.”

He cleared his throat again and turned away, busying himself with the shower. “Bud, can we talk about this another time? I’m filthy right now.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’m sorry, Sal. I shouldn’t have asked.”

His shoulders slumped a bit. Encouraged, I twisted the knife.

“I never know how to ask these dad-type questions. It’s so awkward. I’m sorry, I’ll stop bothering you about this kind of stuff.” I turned as if to go, knowing I wouldn’t get far.

“Bud. Wait.”

Gotcha.

I turned back sheepishly. Sal stepped toward me and motioned for the box of condoms. I handed it over and he popped it open as he spoke. “It’s pretty simple. Here. You take it out of the wrapper and see how it only rolls one way? You just pinch the tip and...”

Somewhere along the line I stopped listening. Sal was standing just inches from me, shirtless, sweaty, stinking. The acrid odor under his arms was intoxicating. As far as I knew he never wore deodorant, so the whiff of his pits was untainted: natural, raw and manly. With Sal’s focus on the condom in his hand I was free to take him in, from the damp, curly hair of his unwashed pits to the generous bulge protruding from his baggy jeans.

“Make sense?” he asked abruptly.

I snapped out of my trance and blinked at him. “Not really.”

Sal glanced from the condom to me and back again. “Which part don’t you get?”

“Um... all of it?” I said with a shrug. “I don’t know. Can you just show me?”

Sal’s lips dropped open. His bushy mustache twitched. “Like... show you, show you?”

“Yeah. I mean, that way I know I’d get it right and not take any risks... you know?”

Sal cleared his throat once; twice. The condom ring trembled nervously in his pinched fingers. “Well, I can’t... I mean, one thing is that you have to be... you know, hard to put on a condom, so I can’t really—”

“That’s okay,” I said quickly. “No problem.”

I don’t think I’ve ever shucked my pants faster. Before Sal could stop me, I had my jeans and underwear pooled around my ankles. When I stood back up, my erection was finally free. Sal and I stared down at it, both of us slightly amazed by its sudden appearance. My raging teen boner pulsed lewdly between us, aware of Sal’s attention, painfully hard, a string of milky pre-cum oozing down its tip.

“Is that hard enough?”

Sal gulped. This was the first time I had ever really shown him my bare dick— usually I was wearing clothes or covering my boner in embarrassment. Now I was unabashed, boldly jutting my skinny hips forward to let my six and three-quarters inches stand proud and free.

Sal looked away, his cheeks crimson. “Yeah that’s pretty hard,” he croaked dryly.

“Okay. Just show me how to start and I’ll take over,” I encouraged. I shuffled out of my jeans and stepped in closer. My erection was now just inches from Sal. He looked down nervously and handed me the still-rolled condom.

“Here.”

“Okay but how does it start?”

“You just put this end over your...” Sal’s eyes flicked down. My cock pulsed, releasing a fresh bead of pre. “Over the head,” he finished with some difficulty.

“Oh. Okay.” I fidgeted, really laying on the nerves. When I reached up, I didn’t grab the condom in his outstretched hand. Instead, I took his wrist, slick with sweat, and turned in toward him. “So if your hand was my hand...”

With Sal’s wrist still in my grasp, I backed into him so my bare ass nearly brushed the crotch of his jeans. His right arm draped over mine, his surprised face just over my shoulder. I had maneuvered myself into his arms, my back against his front, holding his hand with the condom in it just above my quivering hard cock.

“I would just, put it on like... this?”

Sal’s muscles tensed, but I had already begun the move. I pulled his hand down toward my rod, guiding him to me. His rough palm grazed my sensitive head, sending a chill down my spine. I shuddered as the rest of his hand brushed along my length, until finally the latex ring connected with my leaking tip. Sal’s fingers trembled as his breathing sped up.

“Chase, we can’t—”

“What do I do now, Dad?” I asked quickly. The use of the word Dad halted his protest before it began. I never called him Dad unless I really needed him.

And right now, I really needed him.

I let it sink in before I continued, with a hint of shy vulnerability in my voice. “I want to make sure I get this right. Can you help me, Dad?”

Sal made no move to continue or to step away. Our bodies were nearly entwined, his sweaty arm around me. I was surrounded by his scent. My cock throbbed in our hands.

“What should I do with my other hand, Dad?”

I reached around behind me and found Sal’s left arm hanging limp at his side. He let me guide it around to my front, offering little resistance as I wrapped his remaining arm around me. Now we were in a true embrace— me naked from the waist down, him naked from the waist up. I settled into him further, pressing my body to his. My bare ass connected with Sal’s crotch as I pulled both of his shaking hands to my cock. Was it just my imagination, or was his growing erection lodged between my cheeks?

“Can you please show me?” I turned over my shoulder to face him. Our lips were inches apart, his quivering mustache just within reach of my tongue. I resisted the urge to kiss him right then and there. His breathing was shallow, hot and sour against my cheek. I savored the smell, the dampness of his sweat soaking through my t-shirt, the feeling of his strong arms around me.

“Can you show me how, Dad?” I whispered again, pleading with my eyes.

He wasn’t looking at me. I followed his gaze and was surprised to see... us.

The bathroom mirror reflected a taboo scene that almost shocked even me: a stepfather holding his son in his arms, both hands on the teen’s cock. The boy’s milky white skin looked so pale against the dark, sun-kissed flesh of the father. The two figures regarded us as we regarded them. Mirror-Sal stared back at the real Sal, both of them seemingly perplexed by the others’ actions. I gazed into the brown eyes of Mirror-Chase, deep with longing, dark with hunger.

Mirror-Sal’s eyes never wavered. His jaw was set in grim determination. Fresh sweat beaded on his brow. His thick mustache twitched. The veins in his muscled arms pulsed as he set to work.

Behind me, the bulge in Sal’s pants pulsed. It was unmistakable now: his hard dick was pressed between my pert ass cheeks. I responded with a flex that squeezed him in tighter.

In front of me, Sal’s hands began to work the condom over my cock. I couldn’t believe it. My straight stepdad, the man I jerked off to nightly, was touching my penis. My cock was in another man’s hands. And not just any man— a sweaty, hairy, handsome hunk. My own stepdad.

A shudder went through me. My knees went weak and I slumped into Sal’s arms, nearly passing out from the sheer pleasure of it all. He effortlessly held me steady, my ass pressed into his growing crotch, as my cock throbbed in his hands.

The fingers of Sal’s right hand formed a tight “O” around my flared mushroom tip, now encased in latex. A steady stream of milky pre-jizz leaked into the transparent sheath as Sal’s left hand rolled the latex ring down my shaft. The motion of his hand, methodically sliding down along my length, was all it took to start my pre-orgasmic throes.

“Dad... oh God, Dad.”

Sal moved to stop and I grabbed his hands. With a vise-like grip, I pulled him toward my cock despite his resistance. My throbbing tip plunged through Sal’s gripped fingers and he inadvertently stroked my entire length with both hands. My balls swung up with the force of my thrust, smacking against Sal's hand.

Then, quite suddenly, Sal took over.

He stroked back up my length. Then he stroked down, then up again. Latex crinkled as his tempo increased.

Holy fuck— Sal was jerking me off.

I let out a cry of pleasure and gyrated my hips against him, awash in a sexual heat. “Oh, Dad! Ungh! Dad!”

Sal did not stop. Mirror-Sal watched, emotionless.

“Dad,” cried Mirror-Chase, his eyes desperate. “Dad? Dad, you’re gonna make me cum.”

The tip of the condom became suddenly white. Cymbals crashed, fireworks exploded, my vision went black and then slowly resolved. All the while my load exploded out of me and pooled in the latex. I held Sal’s wrists for support as my body bucked helplessly against his, the hard tube of his cock still pressed into my crack. Mirror-Sal watched the scene in stoic silence, his mouth dropped slightly open.

The whole interaction lasted under a minute, but it was the most powerful orgasm of my young life.

Sal and his reflection waited for me to finish before they released my erection and carefully stepped away.

“Thanks, Dad,” I breathed heavily.

Then I turned, quite suddenly, and gave him a hug.

Sal stiffened, surprised by the impromptu gesture. I sensed his awkwardness, the overwhelming desire to run, avoid, deny, and forget.

I didn’t care. I loved the feeling of his padded beef under my wiry arms. I loved spearing my still-leaking cock into his clothed erection, undeterred by the layers of latex and denim between us. I squeezed Sal against me and held on tight. I wasn’t going to let him go that easily. I was euphoric, high on my orgasm, pumped full of endorphins and lust.

Maybe that’s why I did it: I pressed my lips into Sal’s.

I kissed him. I wasn’t planning to do it, but here we were.

Two things struck me right away: the wiry bristles of his mustache, and the pillowy softness of his lips. How was it possible to feel two such equal and opposite sensations in one kiss? The rough and the soft, the hard and the gentle— I was overwhelmed by it, overwhelmed by the smell and the taste and the sight of it.

Our eyes were open. We were looking at each other.

Our lips were touching. I melted into him.

My arms caressed him.

My lips opened to him. His lips stayed closed.

My tongue reached for him. My arms encircled his neck. My tongue brushed his lips, still closed.

My hands connected with his hair, damp with sweat. My tongue flicked across his lips, felt wetness.

My cock grinded into his bulge. My tongue slipped between his lips.

My fingers ran through his dark curls. My tongue felt open mouth, teeth.

I grabbed a handful of hair. My tongue felt another tongue for the first time. A whimper escaped my throat.

Another tongue encircled mine. Lips pressed into mine. A hand was suddenly on my ass.

I moaned into his mouth. Lips smacked, tongues slurped. Fingers twisted in hair. Fingers dug into tight flesh. Breath was short. Mouths were hungry. Fingers dug between cheeks.

A manly groan.

A boyish whimper.

A finger in a hole.

A wet mouth.

A dripping cock.

A hungry asshole.

A tongue digs into a mouth.

A finger digs into an ass.

A wedding ring bumps against an ass ring.

“Fuck!”

All too soon the fresh air rushed in. I stumbled forward, disoriented and off-balance. My mouth and ass were suddenly empty.

“I’ll shower upstairs.”

Sal snatched a towel and stalked out of the room without stopping to look back.

But he kissed back.

Holy shit— he kissed back.

It was my first real, actual kiss. And it was with Sal.

That’s what I kept thinking as I jerked myself off again, right into the same condom: he kissed back. My two loads squished beneath the latex. He kissed back.

I allowed my breathing to settle as I listened to the faint sounds of the shower running upstairs. Was Sal jerking himself off, too, as he stood beneath the hot water? Was he thinking of our kiss? I resisted the urge to find out and crept up to my attic bedroom, load-filled condom still hugging my rigid dick.

I shot into it once more before I carefully tied it off and added it to my treasure trove of mementos, right alongside my other prize: Sal’s condom, sloshing with stepdad sperm, freshly fished from the trash.

* * *

Two months later, after another awkward period of radio silence from Sal, we stood together in the driveway admiring his brand new fishing boat.

“I thought it’d be bigger,” I said after a moment.

“It’s big enough to get the job done.”

I glanced at him. Were we still talking about the boat? Sal looked away, cleared his throat. His beaming smile returned.

“Can’t wait to take this baby out,” he said dreamily as he ran a loving hand along the stern.

Mom emerged from the porch carrying a champagne bottle and two glasses. “I still don’t see why we have to do this,” she grumbled.

“It’s tradition, honey babe!” Sal said brightly. He accepted a glass and took a big swig. “Okay, now stand back!”

Mom handed Sal the champagne bottle and ushered me to stand clear. She nervously sipped from her flute as Sal approached the bow of the boat with a wide grin.

“I hereby christen this fine vessel... Sal’s Love Boat!”

Sal swung the bottle of champagne with exuberant abandon. It shattered with a pop against the bow, spraying shards and bubbles all over the driveway and Sal.

Mom yelped; I flinched. Sal laughed his ass off.

I don’t think I’d ever seen him this happy.

“Careful!” Mom screamed. She handed me her champagne flute and rushed to fuss over Sal. “Watch out for the glass! Honey, don’t touch it. Did it get you? Oh, what a waste of good champagne!”

Sal just laughed louder and grabbed her in his furry, booze-soaked arms. “It’s good luck, honey babe! You don’t want me to sink out on the lake, do you?”

He attacked Mom with tickles and her peals of frustrated laughter rang out down the street. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I took a surreptitious sip of Mom’s champagne. I wasn’t even all that jealous.

I was just happy for Sal. This was a good day.

Mom eventually fought him off and said, “Well, now that you have your Love Boat maybe you and Chase can finally get some quality father-son time.”

Sal’s laughter slowed. He locked eyes with me, then smiled and looked back at the boat. “Sure. How about it, bud?”

My dopey grin couldn’t be wider. “Sounds good!” Then, because I couldn’t resist: “I’ll take a ride on your Love Boat, Sal.”

Mom clucked her approval and patted my shoulder. Sal cleared his throat.

“Well, this weekend is clear on the calendar,” Mom chirped. “Might as well get out on the lake before the weather turns.”

Sal nodded distractedly, his attention back on the boat. Mom sauntered back into the house, satisfied. I could have kissed her feet at that moment.

I glanced back at Sal, still admiring his new baby. Then a familiar sight caught my eye: a bubbling string of white slid heavily down the bow of the boat. The rivulet of frothy champagne almost looked like cum.

Sal’s cum, thick with sperm. My cock throbbed at the memory.

And that’s when it all came to me: the entire plan, like a flash of lightning. It was like divine (or perhaps devilish) intervention, as if everything that had happened between us had been leading up to this very moment.

Sal sensed he was being watched. He turned to me, gave me a quick nod and wink, and went back to fiddling with the boat.

I smiled. Oh, if he only knew what was coming. If I managed to pull this one off, it would be my greatest conquest yet— and nothing would ever be the same again.

Operation: Real Dad.

* * *

To be continued...

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