Date: Thu, 10 Jan 2019 16:49:37 -0800 From: Jim Selfie Subject: Stepdad Becomes Real Dad - Part 2 Stepdad Becomes Real Dad – Part 2 of 6 By Jim Selfie © 2019. All Rights Reserved. ****** Donate to Nifty! It's easy & cheap. donate.nifty.org Drop me a line if you like the story. thejimselfie@gmail.com ****** The next morning Sal was up early clanging pipes in the upstairs bathroom. By the time I was fully conscious and getting ready for school, the clog in my bathroom had been fixed. "Thanks, Sal," I garbled through a mouthful of toothpaste. "No prob, bud," he said lightly. Then, with a hint of seriousness: "Don't mention it." He was out the door for work soon after. Mom was practically glowing as she buttered an Eggo for me at the breakfast table. Sal had given it to her good the night before, that much was clear, and I was convinced that my shower ministrations had something to do with it. I munched my waffle in jealous silence... half guilty for what I'd done, half hungry for more. The hunger won out in the end, of course. But I knew I needed to let it lay for a few days. Sal seemed a little skittish and in no rush for a repeat performance, and the last thing I wanted to do was push it too far. So we casually ignored each other for a week or so... friendly enough to show each other it was no big deal, but distant enough to keep it that way. Pretty soon Sal was back to his usual jovial self, joking and back-slapping and winking at hot girls behind Mom's back. I let another week pass before I hatched my second plot... Operation: Boner. (Okay so the name wasn't that creative but the plan was.) That week I gradually withdrew from both Sal and Mom, avoiding the topic of school and keeping to myself more than usual. When Mom probed me with questions I was gruff and cryptic with one-word answers. It was just enough to convince Sal that we needed to talk— man to man. One night after dinner I retreated to my room without a word, as had become the custom during Operation: Boner. I was about twenty pages into my sci-fi book when I heard a soft knock at the door. "Yeah?" "Hey bud," Sal called out from the other side. "Can I come in?" "It's your house." After a beat, the door cracked open and Sal's head poked in. "...Is that a yes?" I couldn't help but smirk. His dark curly hair, chiseled features, bushy mustache and megawatt smile made him a tough guy to stay mad at... and I wasn't actually mad. This is what I'd been waiting for. "Yeah, yeah. Come in." He stepped into my attic bedroom and closed the door behind him. Mom was two floors below, watching whatever reality show struck her fancy this week. We were alone and we both knew it. "Can we chat, bud?" I closed my book and laid it beside me on the bed. I sat up, careful to avoid his glance, and watched in my peripheral vision as he approached the bed, his hands in the pockets of his plaid flannel lounge pants. "Sure," I said. "What's up?" "Actually, bud... been wanting to ask you the same question." Sal paused near the bed, seeming to consider his options. I could tell he was slightly shocked to find me shirtless, wearing only gym socks and light grey boxer briefs—a first for me, as I usually wore much more clothing around the house (all part of the plan). Finally he sat down on the edge of my bed, his flannel-clad ass just inches away from my casually spread thigh. I felt my cock stir to life beneath the thin cotton fabric. "What do you mean?" I asked innocently. "Well bud, you're not exactly great at hiding your feelings," he said with a furrowed brow. "You wear your heart on your sleeve, bud, which is a good thing!" He nudged my thigh with his knuckles playfully. My cock surged; if he noticed, it didn't stop him. "Thing is... your Mom and I can tell that something's wrong, and... I'm pretty sure it has to do with school and... you don't seem to want to talk to her about it, so... I'm hoping... you know...." I looked him in the eye for the first time since he entered my room. His hazel eyes glimmered, a big welcoming smile under his `stache, his expression hopeful... almost vulnerable. I felt for the guy. He really wanted to be a dad, and he was good at it, too. He wanted to help me, wanted me to need him. And I did... just not in the way he expected. Again I felt equal parts guilt and hunger. And again, hunger won out in the end. "I think something's wrong with me!" I blurted out. Sal cocked an eyebrow. "What? What do you mean?" I turned away and hugged a pillow to my chest for good measure— conveniently covering my growing semi. "It's just... no, never mind." "Chase, come on," Sal persisted. He waited a beat, then placed a hand on my arm. "Buddy, nothing is wrong with you. What, is somebody bullying you?" "No," I muttered, unconvincingly. He hesitated before he asked, in a halting tone: "Is it... because of... because of your... because you're, uh..." We had never spoken about me being gay— in fact, I hadn't "come out" at this point. But I figured it was sort of common knowledge, maybe not at school but at least around the house. I had heard Mom and Sal whispering about my lack of a girlfriend (or boyfriend, if that's what I was into), my strict hygiene and attention to appearance, my enthusiasm for swim meets even though I wasn't a swimmer, etc. I knew Sal would be supportive when I did eventually tell him. But in the meantime I got a perverse joy from watching him squirm, waiting for me to save him the trouble and admit that I was gay so he wouldn't have to be the first to say it. Finally I showed him some mercy. "It's because of my... no, this is so embarrassing." "Chase... bud... you can talk to me about this stuff, okay? I won't embarrass you and I won't think any less of you no matter what you tell me. And neither will your Mom—" "No!" I yelped, my eyes fearful. "I don't want to talk to Mom about this. It's... it's guy stuff." He relaxed into the bed a bit, his hand lifting off my arm and settling in his lap. I sensed that he was pleased to be the only one who could help me out with this (all part of the plan). "Well, bud. I'm your guy." (Oh how right he was) "What's going on?" I took a deep breath and gazed up at the whirring ceiling fan. "It's just... it's just that, at school..." "Yeah?" I avoided his concerned look, staring instead at the furry forearms resting on his meaty thighs... the dark black hairs on his bulging bicep curling over the sleeve of his white t-shirt... "At school?" he prompted. I snapped back into it. "At school, I... I look around, you know, like... specifically in P.E., and...." "And?" "And... I'm different. From everyone else. And... and I think something is wrong with me." I looked away, ashamed. "Bud. Hey. Come on, bud? Look at me. Come on." Sal crooked a finger under my chin and gently guided my face back around. My gaze landed in his warm hazel eyes as he leaned in to emphasize his words. "There is nothing wrong with you. You hear me?" "Yeah, but..." "No buts, bud. I don't care who's saying what, all I know—" "No, it's just... just that I noticed I'm... different." He leaned back again and his fingers fell away from my chin. "How so? Because bud, I've seen pretty much everything you got and it's no different from any other guy your age." My cock throbbed at the memory of Sal and I in the shower, seeing each other fully naked for the first time (but not the last, if my plan worked). "Well," I hesitated, my fingers worrying the edge of the pillow case atop my now raging hard-on. "It's just... in the showers... I'm the only one who's... well, who's... not... like you." "Like... me?" "You know..." I grimaced and pointed to his lap. "...Down there?" Sal shifted, suddenly aware of the way he was sitting. "Down there... like... the man parts?" "Yeah." I dropped the discomfort and gazed at him openly, still pretending to piece together my words. "Like... everybody else's... um, cock—" I blushed despite myself. "...Is that okay to say?" Sal cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. Of course." "Well... their... cocks... are like yours. You know, with the uh... the, uh..." "...Foreskin?" Sal croaked, his mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah!" I said enthusiastically. God I loved hearing him say that word. "They have, uh, foreskin, and... and, you know, I don't... and...." Sal sighed. His pep talk had taken an unexpected turn and I was loving every second of it. "Bud, when it comes to... to cocks..." (A shiver ran through me hearing him utter the word... mine bounced in my briefs) "Every guy is different, really. And cocks that are, um... circumcised, like... like yours, are uh... no different, really, than cocks like... like mine." "But that's not true!" I exclaimed. "My buddy Geoff says they're totally different and that his is better and he was making fun of mine saying I can't even jerk off right and—" Sal interrupted me with a laugh. "Ha! Now buddy I know that's not true! I've seen your trash can and laundry pile and can safely say you're jerking off just fine." I shook my head, dejected— but secretly loving the fact that Sal had seen my used jizz tissues and cummy gym socks. "I just... I don't get it." I continued forlornly. "And no one will talk to me about this stuff and... and..." I prepped my big guns: "I never had a real dad to talk about this stuff with." I watched how my words affected Sal: saw the tiny shoulder slump of disappointment, followed by a straightened spine of determination. He wanted to be that guy. This was "real dad" territory and he wanted in. So I pressed on. "And... and I feel really embarrassed even asking this, but..." "But what, bud?" "Can I just see yours?" I blurted out. Sal blinked, stupefied. "Uh..." "It's just that if I saw one and not just in the showers for like two seconds maybe I would see that they're not that different, you know, or just like learn to appreciate what I've got instead of this unknown thing and I don't know I just thought never mind it's stupid you must hate me." "No, no no," Sal reassured me with a strained chuckle. "Honestly bud, it's... natural to be curious... I guess, about this kinda thing, it's just... I'm not sure what you can learn, really, from... from my—" "You're right," I said quickly, turning away. "It was stupid I'm embarrassed I never should have asked you I'm sorry it won't happen again." Sal sighed heavily. We sat there for a long moment in silence, not looking at each other. Then I felt his weight leave the bed. There was a rustle of clothing next to me, a self-conscious cough, and then: "Here." I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Jackpot. "Take a look, bud." I turned slowly to see that Sal's flannel lounge pants were now bunched around his ankles. His white t-shirt clung to his slight paunch just above his wiry black bush, dense and untrimmed. Nestled in his pubic curls was that gorgeous cock, thicker and fuller than I remembered. This time his egg-sized balls held close to his body, hanging just below the tight pucker of his foreskin. I marveled at the web of veins and thick head etched beneath his sheath of skin. "Pretty standard ordinary stuff, bud," he said in attempted nonchalance. "And I'm telling you, it's just like—" I removed the pillow from my crotch to reveal my erection. Sal's eyes went straight to it— naturally, as the obscene tent and widening wet spot in my briefs was hard to miss. "... yours." he finished quietly. I shifted, kicking my legs over the edge of the bed. Now I sat facing Sal, my knees an inch away from his bare legs. I studied his member, tilting my head first right, then left. His balls snuck up higher as his cock lolled heavily to the left— bashful, aware that it was being watched. Ever so slowly I leaned into him, my mouth watering... "Okay bud, seen enough?" Sal shuffled back to reach for his pants when I suddenly said, "Can I see it hard?" He froze. "Uh... I'm not sure... that's, uh—" "I know it's a weird thing to ask but..." I looked up at him with a pleading expression. "Geoff says mine doesn't work right because it doesn't... you know... get hard... right." Sal's conflict was evident on his face: wanting to help, knowing it would cross a line. His gaze darted from me to the bedroom door, brow knit with concern. "I don't think I could... uh, buddy that's sorta..." But Sal's cock was speaking for him. It had swollen, plumping up another inch and a half and angling away from his now-descending balls. It emboldened me to make my next move, which wasn't even part of the plan. "What does it feel like?" Before he could answer, my hand reached out of its own accord and wrapped itself around Sal's thick cock. He visibly shuddered as my fingers closed around his sensitive skin, squeezing the veiny tube gently in my warm (and slightly sweaty) palm. My own cock burped out a droplet of pre-cum as my breath caught in my throat. Holy shit... I was holding my stepdad's cock. Sal swallowed hard and stammered, "Chase, that... uh, that's—" "Whoa," I said, utterly engrossed. "It really does feel like mine. Only..." Sal's cock throbbed in my palm, extending and thickening another inch. His nuts rolled up in their sack as he took a stilted breath. I continued staring at his growing cock, my face dipping ever so slightly toward it. "It feels really similar but... this skin is just..." I trailed off, fascinated by the sight unfolding (literally) before me. As Sal's cock pulsed to life, his sheath of foreskin shortened, unpuckered, and peeled away down his glans. The raised lip of skin crept further up with each quickening heartbeat, revealing a dark pink cockhead slick with pre-cum. I opened my fingers and his cock rose mightily out of my hand, jutting up toward my face as if in invitation. I inhaled deeply through my nose and experienced Sal's musk fully for the first time: the nutty, earthy scent of his pendulous balls, the heady testosterone aroma that permeated his virile crotch and nether regions. A sharp hint of acrid, day-old piss and man funk accented the stench. My eyelids fluttered, instantly intoxicated by his natural odor. At its full hardness, Sal's cock was an impressively thick seven and a half inches. His foreskin was pulled tight midway over his flared mushroom tip, with an agape piss slit steadily dripping milky pre-jizz. "Well," Sal said huskily between shallow breaths. "There ya go bud." He let me stare at it for another few seconds before he moved back, as if to make room to pull up his pants. My hand shot out again, this time grasping his cock overhand and stroking down toward his bush. Sal groaned involuntarily as his foreskin slid back over his knob and bunched up behind his head. I switched direction and stroked away from his body— and watched in reverse as the skin crept back over the head and sheathed it again with a dangling puckered snout. Sal shuddered, a bass rumble in his voice. "Chase, maybe you should, uh—" "Wow!" I interrupted, not wanting him to finish. "That's really cool how it does that!" I stroked him down and up again, studying the foreskin's journey over his fattening cockhead. "Geoff was right, this is different!" My thumb squished over his exposed tip and trailed a slippery mess of pre-cum down the rock-solid underside of his shaft. There was a syrupy smack to my stroking now that rose over the whirr of the ceiling fan. "Chase, buddy, I really don't think—" "Thanks for showing me this, Sal," I said earnestly. I slid off the bed and dropped to my knees at his feet. Sal stumbled back a step— not far, as I still held his cock in my tightening grasp. I increased the speed of my strokes, the squelching sound lewd and louder. "I think I get it now." His words came between gasps as I jerked him in earnest. " I... don't... we... should..." I tore my eyes away from his leaking cock and stared up into his eyes. Sal was looking down at me, a mixture of confusion, horror, and arousal on his face. His eyes were squinted, jaw dropped open, mustache curled above his quivering upper lip. He held his arms out to his sides, not stopping me, not encouraging me, fingers flexed helplessly as I worked his stepdad cock. "I really appreciate you letting me do this," I whispered. "Chase..." Stroke, stroke, stroke. "...bud..." An expulsion of pre-cum coated my fingers. Squish, squish, squish. "...buddy?" "Thanks for being so cool, Sal." Squish, stroke, squish, stroke. "I'm glad you're my dad." I looked into his eyes. A jolt passed through him. His eyes squinched up, then bulged open. He stared down at my hand, now furiously pumping his steel-hard cock. He suddenly looked shocked, disgusted, as if he was seeing what was happening for the first time. He exhaled sharply. "Buddy... You're gonna make me cum?" I'll never forget how it sounded more like a question than a statement. He seemed so confused by it all. And then he groaned and threw back his head. When I turned my attention back to Sal's cock I found it had grown, bulked up to a solid eight inches of man meat ready to spew. His fat nuts lurched up, violently pulled up into his taint. On my down stroke his flared head emerged beneath the foreskin and his piss slit opened wide. Sal's entire body shook. He let out a low roar that vibrated deep in his diaphragm. I watched in awe as a surge of thick white cum fired out of his cock— one, two, three blasts in quick succession. It splashed onto my face, surprisingly warm and with impressive force. The first jet arced up and smacked me in the forehead, the second painted my nose, the third splattered my right cheek just below my eye. I kept stroking and was rewarded with a pig-like grunt from Sal, accompanied by another volley of cum. My gasp of surprise was cut short by a fountain of jizz that sprayed out, landing in one long, thick rope that stretched from my lower lip to my left nipple. Sal whimpered above me as a final blast of cum burbled out of him, this time splashing into my left eye. We breathed together, both stunned and spent. The wetness in my briefs and warm afterglow told me I had ejaculated, spontaneously and untouched— again. My left eye began to sting, then burn as Sal's virile sperm went to work on it. With my one good eye, I blinked down at my chest and right hand, both coated in viscous strands of impossibly thick, snow-white semen. Slowly I looked up at Sal, just as he slowly gazed down at me. He looked like he'd just seen an angel— glazed eyes, slack jaw, totally released. And then he took in the sight of me, his stepson, painted white with his warm sperm, beaming up at him with one eye, the other pooled with his jizz. I watched his face go from beatific to baffled to horrorstruck. So— knowing it could be my very last chance— I leaned in and pulled his still-hard cock, still throbbing in my sticky hand, toward my waiting mouth. The last vestiges of his load dribbled out of him in one long, tight string of white. I touched it with my tongue, and then— my eye on his the whole time— I swirled my tongue over Sal's exposed cockhead, flicked his frenulum, and closed my moist lips over his dripping slit. With a slurp, I sucked the last drops of load directly out of his cock and swallowed them with a smile. Sal took a step back, hastily pulled his lounge pants up over his jutting cock, and walked out of my room without a word. I knelt there for a minute and savored the flavor of him: sharp, salty, sour, with just a hint of sweet aftertaste. I was instantly hooked. I rose slowly, careful not to spill a drop, and gazed at myself in the full-length mirror on my closet door. There I was, a lanky blonde teen in dirty jizz-soaked undies, streaked with the clumpy cum of my own stepfather. I knew I should feel ashamed but all I could do was chuckle, because I had never been more turned on or proud of myself in my entire young life. I took pictures of the cumload— from every angle— and saved them on my secure site. Then I laid in bed and slowly, fastidiously, gathered every single drop of Sal's load— and the subsequent load that I jerked out to mix with it— and sucked them off my fingers in piggish joy. That night I went to bed not knowing what the next day would bring. Would Sal hate me? kick me out? tell my Mom? want more? But I couldn't help but smile, my belly warm and full of my stepdad's potent sperm. And my next plan was already forming.