My Mom's New Husband Ch. 02
The following days of summer seemed to fly past as I got comfortable with my step dad, whom I saw a lot more of than my mom.
It was an odd sensation with my mom upstairs asleep and the house as quiet and dark as you can make it during a sunny day.
My friends were like me, all upperclassmen getting ready for another year of college and maybe grad school, enjoying youth and putting off joining the real world as long as possible.
This was the first time I'd gotten drunk since my first night home from college. That was weeks ago, and it seemed like longer than that, but for the first time since, the confused feeling started coming over me again, the memory loss and the odd sensation that something happened in the basement that night, something unspeakable and yet intoxicating.
The presence of a strong and virile man, his smell making me weak, the touch of his skin lighting a fire inside me. I sat there and tried to pull it all together when I suddenly realized I was massaging my cock.
I shook the thoughts out of my head and walked into the house, which was mostly dark. I walked to my room and sat down hard on my bed. I was confused, frightened and excited all at once. I was anxious and strangely angry at myself for the feelings I couldn't explain or control.
Michael was standing there, pouring vodka into a glass of ice.
"Hey Michael," I stammered. "Mom at work?"
It was true. I spent more time in my room the last few days, watching porn and chatting online with women, or at least men posing as women. You never really knew, and that somehow didn't bother me as long as they knew how to play the role.
But for the first time in my life, some of the porn I watched included bi guys. It was a strange turn-on, though I had no intention of it ever playing out for real and wasn't about to let anyone know about it.
"Here," he said. "Cheers."
I jiggled the glass and looked at it, or pretended to look at it. My eyes were instead on Michael's body, tanned and sleek, a man's man with a scent of masculinity coming off like a heat wave.
"Put some pants on," he said. "I'm going downstairs."
"Jesus," I said, turning back toward my room.
I finally felt comfortable enough to stand and pull on some gym shorts. I put a t-shirt on and walked out of my room, a glass of pure vodka in my hand, zombie-like as I walked to the steps and went downstairs.
I stood at the bottom of the stairs, pretending not to notice his white boxers bulging, the silhouette of a huge cock clearly visible with the TV light showing through.
"Some stupid porn show," he said. "We can watch something else if you like."
He suddenly stood and stretched, a feline motion as his entire body seemed to unfold, his muscles stretching as he relaxed and leaned over to pour himself another glass of Perrier.
I was feeling the effects, a little woozy and not thinking clearly as the images on screen turned more and more sexual and I could feel a heat well up inside me, a kind of yearning I'd only felt when in the presence of a sexy girl.
"Hey sport," he said. "Let's put this down before we spill it on my leather couch."
I felt his huge cock enter my mouth. I was spinning in half-consciousness, not in control of my thoughts or actions. I heard a noise well up from deep inside me.
Then he reached down and took both my hands, holding them high above my head and pinning them to the couch. His cock slammed hard into my mouth, gagging me as I slipped in and out of awareness, face-fucking me as I writhed in a state of blissful shock, wanting every inch of his manhood.
The last sensation I had was him all over me, kissing me, licking me, cleaning the cum from my face. I blacked out as I felt my shorts being removed.
She was working almost every night at the hospital, and Michael was working during the day, and I spent most of the days in their pool, quietly floating and working on my tan.
I missed college, and I missed my frat brothers and the never-ending party at the frat house. I'd called a few of them, and we decided to meet at a bar one night, trying to break up the monotony of summertime and maybe meet some girls.
We had a great night out, and I probably shouldn't have driven home but I did anyway. I made it OK, but once I parked in the driveway I sat in the darkness and breathed heavily. I was more than a little nervous about the drive home but there was something else making me uncomfortable. And then I realized what it was.
I closed my eyes and recreated the scene as best I could. The buzz actually helped, somehow putting me back on that couch that night, falling in and out of awareness, feeling my young step dad near me, feeling something come over me I'd never felt before.
It was hard as a rock.
I slipped out of my shorts, jumped in the shower and let the water wash over me. I dried off, wrapped the towel around my waist and walked into the kitchen.
"Hey sport," he said, leaning against the counter in boxers and nothing else. I found myself glancing at his bulge, and I know he noticed.
"Yeah, she'll be gone until morning. They're really working them hard in the OR. I feel for her. Things will change soon. Hey, are you OK? Haven't seen you around the last couple of days.
The truth was, I was slowly expanding my sexual awareness, privately pushing the boundaries a little, not entirely sure where it was going.
And there we stood in the kitchen, me in a towel draped around my waist and Michael in his boxers and a half-hard cock showing. He shocked me out of my thoughts by handing me a glass.
We clinked glasses, and I took a sip. It went down smooth and cool. I took a longer drink as Michael stood and watched.
He poured more vodka into my drink and walked toward the stairs.
I looked down in shock. My cock was at attention, the towel looking like a white circus tent with a long pole in the middle.
I sat down hard on the bed and stared at my cock, opening the towel and praying my erection would subside. Was it that obvious? What is happening to me?
Michael was on the couch, a porn flick on the television. His cock was as hard as a rock.
"What's the movie?" I asked, trying not to look at him.
I didn't say anything, just sort of staggered to the couch and plopped down hard against the arm, as physically far from Michael and his erection as possible. I took a long swig from my vodka and watched the movie, trying hard not to look at Michael, who was now rubbing his cock through his boxers, one leg angled wide open.
It surprised me for a second, since I assumed he was drinking vodka, and I had an awful sensation that I was making a fool of myself, or that maybe he was intentionally drinking me under the table.
He was watching me, staring at me, and I knew it. I could sense it as I sank into a strange drunken stupor, taking gulps from the vodka without even realizing it, totally oblivious to my surroundings when suddenly Michael loomed over me.
He took the glass from me and placed his hand on my thigh. Then he took me by my shoulders and laid me onto the couch on my back. My head was hanging slightly over the edge, my mouth agape.
"Mmmmmmmmm," I muffled, my tongue exploring the mushroom head of his perfect cock, hard and throbbing as he slipped it in and out of my hot, wet mouth. I put both my hands on his cock and massaged it as it probed my lips.
He came in my mouth in a torrent of cum, so much it splashed out onto my face and down my cheeks and chin. He came in waves, more and more spurts that I swallowed and spit and sloshed until he finally relaxed, pulling his cock from my mouth.
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