Date: Sat, 07 Sep 2002 22:25:32 -0400 From: Tom Cup Subject: In Memory of Steve - Chapter 3, A/Y, interracial, incest Copyright 2000, 2001, 2002 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ The Paratwa Partnership, Inc. is a publication and marketing agency and is not responsible for the content of the Tom Cup Library, TomCup.com or its affiliate sites, or stories written by Mr. Cup or his associates. ************************************************************************ Support your favorite Nifty writers. They write for you, write to them. ************************************************************************ In Memory of Steve By Tom Cup Chapter 3 Taking Care Of Steve Steve was miserable. Angie was four months pregnant and being the bitch she was born to be. They had been married for a little less than a year. Steve worked his ass off, held two jobs and did spare jobs on the side. Angie would lie around complaining how tired she was. Steve would cajole, comfort, and wait on her hand and foot. Nothing was good enough. It really pissed me off. In the basement of their apartment, there were storage bins, one for each apartment. Steve and I were down there wrapping, and hiding, Christmas presents. I hugged him. I loved his body, and his warmth. We kissed. "I love you," I whispered. "I know." God his body was so warm. It felt so good to be in his arms. It felt so good to have my body pressed against his. We kissed again. I could feel his hardness. He told me eventually that Angie wouldn't have sex with him. She was too tired, or too sick feeling, too pregnant or some shit to have sex. Her loss. His hands roamed over my body. I couldn't get enough of him. I pressed myself into him. "I love you," I said again. "God, you're driving me crazy." "I'll do anything." "I know." His hand played with my ass. I loved the feel of his tongue in my mouth. My cock was as hard on his thigh as his was on my belly. I put my hands on his ass, feeling it, kneading it, as he did the same to me. Angie had done me another favor. Steve would have never allowed this to happen if she wasn't denying him the pleasures of bed. Steve and I knew this. I was becoming his lover because she loved playing the victim. `I'm pregnant so be patient.' Bullshit! If you love him, you'd realize that he has needs too. I realized that and I was only ten. I was willing to do anything to please him. He took a step back and slipped his hand over my cock. I watched him as he examined me through my tight fitting jeans. He looked more confused than anything I could name. He sighed and I smiled. I loved the feeling of his hands on me. I pushed myself against him. "You're driving me crazy," he said again. "I'm sorry." He released me, leaned back against the locker and banged his head on the door several times. I was a bit frightened by the action. A tear formed in the corner of his eye as he looked at me. "I want you so fucking bad. You know that?" I nodded. "Jesus! Your sister is up there carrying my first child and I am fucking burning up for you." "It's OK." "It ain't fucking OK! OK? God, Mike, she's your sister." "I don't care. I love you." He moved back to me. Our bodies mingled. Our tongues danced. Our hands held each other's asses. Our cock pressed, longingly, into each other's flesh. I didn't know what would happen next but I was ready. I wanted him and knew he wanted me. What else could matter? ***** Steve and I lay on the couch together that night. Don't ask what we were watching on T.V. I don't remember. Angie was lying in the bedroom complaining about feeling too sick to move. Steve, I guess got tired of hearing it, grabbed a blanket and joined me on the couch. I was lying behind him. The blanket covered us. His hand was behind his back, fondling my cock. I was in heaven. What can I say about the feeling? It was the first time anyone had touched me there besides myself. I was hard to the breaking point. He massaged my cock, two fingers stroked me up and down, my eyes rolled back into my head as he pretended the watch whatever was being pumped through the television screen. My small penis leaked its clear fluid. Angie moaned in the other room. I begged him in my mind not to stop, not to pay attention to his pregnant wife, just to keep stroking me. My breathing got heavier. I pushed toward his massaging hand, wanting more. I pulled away from him believing I couldn't stand anymore of his touch. I vacillated between the two until my body took over. I shook violently. My cock jumped. I gasped and held on to Steve with all of my strength. I was afraid that Angie might hear. I was thrilled that Angie might hear. I jerked and shook uncontrollably. My cock became wet and warm. Steve rubbed the clear liquid over my pulsating head. He turned and looked at me. I was in awe of the feelings he produced in me. My hand was resting on his hip. He took it and moved it to his cock. I had never touched anyone else's cock. His was my first. I began stroking him. Beneath the blanket his cock was hot and hard. I couldn't get my hand completely around it. It didn't matter. I stroked him with abandon. It didn't take long. His cock jerked and jumped. I felt his liquid running over my hand. He was breathing hard. I pressed myself against him, enjoying his trembling orgasm. We fell asleep on the couch. Angie slept alone in the bedroom. It was the beginning of our love affair. ***** When I wasn't with Steve all I could think of was being with him. I masturbated in bed at night and in the mornings; I jacked off in the shower. I fantasized over and over about that night on the couch and waited eagerly for the next encounter. But Steve was busy with the new baby and we saw less of each other. My orgasms, though satisfying, were nothing like what Steve had produced in me. I was becoming increasingly moody. "What's the matter pal?" "You never come around anymore," I whispered into the phone. "Yeah, I know. I've been kinda busy, you know?" "I know but I miss you." "I'll try to come over this weekend, OK?" "OK." "I gotta go now. I'll see ya." "Steve?" "Yeah?" "I love you." "I love you too." ******* Angie was now in the postpartum syndrome state; meaning that now that the baby was born, she still couldn't fuck because she was too depressed. Steve, of course, accepted it and tried to be loving and caring. It pissed me off because it kept him away from me. Angie was still lying around in bed while Steve took care of her and the baby. Steve decided that he had to have work where he could make his own schedule, so he quit his job and started a landscaping business. When I saw him that weekend, he looked exhausted. For once Mom and Dad were on Steve's side. Mom pulled Angie aside and told her that she needed to start forcing herself to help her husband. Angie cried and said she didn't know what was the matter; she just was tired and depressed all the time. Steve tried to defend her but Dad told him that he needed to think about himself too. Dad said that he wouldn't be any good to anyone if he killed himself working. I don't know why they said these things. But for once I admired my parents. I told Steve he could rest in my room. He said he'd stretch out in the den but mom said that I was right; he needed to get some sleep. He thanked me and fell asleep in my bed. Mom and Dad were more concerned than I realized. They questioned Angie about all kinds of things as Steve slept. Angie admitted that Steve was getting up with Christopher during the night and feeding him. Steve was arranging his life so he could be home as much as possible to take care of the baby. When Mom asked Angie what the hell she was doing, and Angie started with the tears again, I couldn't stand it. I went and sat on the bed and watched Steve sleep. "Hey buddy," Steve said awaking. "Hi." "What time is it?" "Almost dinner time." "Oh man, I've been sleeping all this time." "Yeah. You were tired." "Yeah but you should have woke me. We were supposed to hang out." "It's OK. You needed to sleep." He smiled. I loved his smile. We hugged and he kissed me. I loved him more than ever. I don't know if I can explain it but I had a great time that day. All I did was sit and watch him sleep and it was one of the greatest days I can think of, when I think of the best times in my life. And the kiss he gave me that day I also remember as one of the best things to ever happen to me. It wasn't a passionate kiss but it said so many things to me. It told me how much he loved me. It told me he really did need me as much as I needed him. It said thank you for caring, for being here, and taking care of me. We laughed afterwards, not because we were embarrassed or felt guilty or anything else, but because the kiss said we belonged together. I decided that day that I was going to take care of Steve. I was going to be the partner to him that Angie was not. At dinner, Mom and Dad gave Steve and Angie a proposal. We had two spare bedrooms in the house. Mom and Dad said that Steve and Angie should give up their apartment and move in with us. Steve wasn't crazy about the idea at first but soon realized that it gave he and Angie the opportunity to save money for a house; and he would get help with the baby. I think the clincher was when I said, as innocently as I could, that he would be able to see more of me too! He laughed rustled my hair and said, "In that case, it's a deal." *********************************************************************** To support this story and other writings by Tom Cup, visit http://www.tomcup.com Send comments to comments@tomcup.com ***********************************************************************