Date: Sat, 15 Jun 2019 22:16:46 -0700
From: Jim Selfie <thejimselfie@gmail.com>
Subject: Stepdad Becomes Real Dad - Part 6 of 6

Stepdad Becomes Real Dad – Part 6 of 6

By Jim Selfie
© 2019. All Rights Reserved.
Do not copy or repost without consent of author.

******

Happy Dad's Day!

Thank you so much to all my friends and fans all over the world. Your
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Please consider supporting my work (and future stories) by purchasing the
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Thank you for reading & enjoy!  Jim

******


At last, after what seemed like an interminable wait, the day of our
fishing trip finally arrived.

Sal and I were up before the sun, packing up the cooler and loading all the
gear into his truck. I was groggy and cranky, of course— what teenager
isn't at five in the morning on a weekend?— but I was also buzzing with
anticipation. Sal and I were going to be completely alone for two days out
in the wilderness. Today was the official beginning of my master plan. I
was nervous, excited, and horny all at the same time.

I stuffed cold cuts, hotdogs, and various snacks into the largest cooler we
owned. Mom had really gone overboard with the food prep— I think she was
almost more excited than we were. She wasn't coming with us, of course, but
she had been talking about our trip all week, even pushed Sal to keep the
plans when the weather report said there might be rain. It was pretty clear
that Mom wanted us to have this bonding time and she'd done everything she
could to make it happen. Bless her.

I almost felt bad.

Almost.

When I joined Sal in the garage, laden with the overstuffed cooler, the
truck was all packed and ready to roll. "All set, bud?" he chirped
brightly.

"Yup."

Sal took the cooler from me and easily hoisted it into the truck bed. I
surreptitiously watched him as he made the final adjustments to the
gear. He was wearing an old pair of jeans, smudged with dirt and ripped at
the knee, and a camouflage jacket over his white cotton t-shirt. His dark
curls, grown out longer than usual, peeked out from beneath his
sweat-stained trucker hat. I admired the twin mounds of his meaty ass as he
bent over the tailgate to secure the final bungee cord.

"Okay. Let's get in that lake!"

I climbed up into the truck and we set out: Sal in the driver's seat, me at
his side, camping gear in the back and the boat trailer behind.

I watched the sun come up as we drove into the mountains— had to admit
that was pretty cool. Then I dozed for a bit, lulled to sleep by the
classic rock station Sal insisted on playing. We drove in companionable
silence, chatting only briefly as we ordered breakfast at a roadside
McDonald's. The trip was long but didn't feel that way. I was genuinely
enjoying my stepdad's company, and not even (entirely) in a sexual
manner. I only popped like five or six boners thinking about what was to
come.

It was just after noon when we arrived at the lake. As soon as Sal laid
eyes on the expanse of blue water he seemed to get his second wind. He was
practically buzzing as he prepped the boat to launch. As with most
outdoorsy tasks, I was mostly ineffective and stayed out of the way until
requested. When the boat finally did settle into the water for the first
time, Sal's whoop of excitement echoed back to us from across the lake.

"Woo baby!" he hollered. "She's seaworthy, bud!"

I couldn't help but beam back at him. His megawatt smile, beneath that
bushy black mustache, made me happy every time I saw it.

Sal was eager to get a line in the water, already grumbling about how we'd
missed the best fishing time of the day. We left the camping gear with the
truck and transferred our tackle and lunch fixings to the boat. There
wasn't exactly a cabin in Sal's "Love Boat" but there was a small hold
where Sal told me to stow the cooler. When I opened it I saw two six packs
of cheap beer chilling on ice. I smiled.

Perfect.

After a bit of a rocky start on the lake, we finally settled the Love Boat
in a patch of open water a few hundred feet from shore. It was a pristine
day— sun high in the mostly cloudless sky, warm but not hot with a
gentle midday breeze. The pines encircling the lake reflected back on its
glass-like surface. We hadn't seen another soul so far that day, and every
beach we could see appeared to be empty. The only sounds came from the
birds overhead and the gentle slap of waves against the boat... and Sal's
occasional sigh of contentment.

"Bud, this is the life."

I had to agree. Especially when Sal moved in close to show me how to bait
my line. The live worm squirming on the hook was pretty gross, but Sal's
warm body close to mine made it all worthwhile.

"And then you cast it like this." Sal hauled back and cast his fishing line
far out into the water with a whirr and distant plop.

"Wait, how did you do that?" I asked. "Can you show me?"

"Yeah, bud. It's sort of like swinging a bat, just overhead."

"Yeaaah I don't really know how to do that, either."

Sal chuckled to himself and set down his fishing pole. "I got a lot to
teach you, bud."

I grinned back. The feeling was very much mutual.

"Come here."

My heart skipped a beat as I stepped toward him. Sal took my wrist gently
in his callused hand. The fishing pole shook in my grasp, my stomach as
knotted as the worm on my hook. Then Sal reached around to my other arm,
gripped lower on the pole. I was now enfolded in his arms, his hands over
my own... just like the day he showed me how to put on a condom (and jerked
me to orgasm in the process).

"Make sure the catch is open," he said, his deep bass voice lowered to a
husky near-whisper in my ear. His hot breath on my cheek made my cock pulse
to life. Sal directed my arms, bringing them slowly overhead. "And then
just... let it go."

We swung together and the fishing line whirred. The force of our cast
thrust us slightly backward— I thrilled to the feeling of Sal's crotch
against my ass. I let my rear end rest there, against his meaty bulge,
until the end of my line came to rest in the lake with a satisfying plop.

"Cool," I breathed.

Sal grunted his approval and untangled himself from me. I stood in place a
while longer until my heart rate (and erection) returned to normal.

"With the first cast... comes the first beer."

Sal cracked into the first six pack around one in the afternoon. He even
offered me one, which would never happen at home ("Men who fish deserve
beer," he said matter-of-factly). I was happy to accept and sipped the cold
suds slowly. By two p.m. we had amassed six empty cans between us... though
four of them were Sal's.

"Damn fish won't bite," Sal grumbled. His diction was a bit loose,
bordering on slurry. When was the last time we ate something...?

"Should we move to a different spot?" I suggested.

"Nah," Sal replied as he cracked open another can and handed it to me, then
repeated the process for himself. "Just need to season the water a bit."

Sal stood (a bit shakily, I noted) and set his beer down. I watched in
utter amazement as he began to fumble with the button of his jeans. With a
loud zzzip, the grubby denim slid down the mounds of his ass cheeks, his
white cotton briefs unnaturally bright in the midday sun. Sal hooked a
thumb in the stretched elastic waistband while his other hand dug in the
overstuffed pouch. In one swift movement, he hauled his thick uncut cock
out of his briefs and hooked the waistband underneath his huge, dangling
balls. My stepdad's penis and testicles were suddenly on display— the
objects of my obsession, just an arm's length away. With a grunt, Sal
peeled back his drooping foreskin to reveal his fat mushroom head. Almost
immediately a powerful stream of piss burst from his open slit, arcing into
the water with the force of a faucet on high.

"Whew!" Sal sighed. "Damn I needed that."

I stared wide-eyed as Sal emptied his bladder off the side of the boat. His
dark-skinned cock lay heavy in his hand, about five thick inches, not quite
flaccid but not yet hard. The ripples of loose foreskin bunched up behind
the flared ridge of his head, which ejected a perfect golden arch of piss
into the lake below. Sal threw his head back and closed his eyes, lost in
the pleasure of a long-needed piss. I inched closer to him, my eyes locked
on his thick manhood.

After nearly a minute, the arc of piss became shorter and shorter until it
slowed to a dribble. Sal peeled his foreskin back further and shook his
cock, flinging a few drops of pungent urine into the lake. Then he drew the
skin back over the head, obscuring his gaping slit in a loose dangle of
puckered flesh. He repeated the process, peeling and unpeeling his skin,
shaking the last vestiges of piss from his thickening cock.

"Do you always do that?" I asked, leaning in curiously.

Sal grunted his assent. "Yup. Best thing about being in the great outdoors:
you can piss anywhere." Sal's cockhead peeked out again, drooling
yellow. He gave it a jerk and folded his skin back down. I watched in
delight as the final drops of piss dribbled from his dangling snout and
onto his exposed nuts. The rivulet slid down the lemon-sized orb of Sal's
testicle, between the thick corkscrews of black pubic hair that covered his
loose ball skin. The trickle ended on his briefs, where it stained the
dingy cotton bright yellow.

"Go ahead, bud. Mark your territory."

I didn't need to be told twice. My cock was out and in my hand in a
heartbeat. I was far too hard to piss but the afternoon breeze felt great
on my exposed genitals. I held my raging teen boner in my hands, presenting
it to my stepdad, who still held his own manhood less than two feet away.

We stood there for a moment, eyeing each other's tackle. Sal cleared his
throat and gave himself another lazy shake. His cock had chubbed ever so
slightly, the shaft noticeably thicker in the callused cushion of his palm.

"I meant do you always do that," I said almost as an afterthought. "What
you were doing with your, um..." I gestured with my own cock, miming an
invisible sheath of skin. "You know."

Sal sniffed. His cock and balls were still out, exposed to the open air—
and his horny stepson. He made no move to put them away. "Oh, the uh..." He
peeled it back as he said it, revealing his growing head. "The skin?"

My cock pulsed. "Yeah. That." I watched as it retracted again. Released
from Sal's grip, the sheath of swarthy foreskin crawled of its own volition
over the engorged head of Sal's fat cock.

"Do you always pee that way?" I asked innocently. "Pull the, uh... skin?"

Another grunt of assent from Sal, this time huskier. He reached back with
his free hand and found his beer. He continued to work his foreskin as he
gulped down the brew; I don't even think he realized he was doing it. His
shiny cockhead was alternately revealed and hidden as he lazily
stroked. Then he let out a loud belch that startled me out of my
cock-trance.

"Gotta get the skin out of the way to piss. Keeps it cleaner, too," said
Sal. He shook his cock again, even though it was relatively dry. "Though
I'm not the best at keeping these parts clean."

An involuntary groan escaped my throat. God, he was right— and I'd put
in the time with his underwear to know for certain. How many piss and sweat
and pre-cum stains had I cleaned out of Sal's dirty briefs with my
tongue...?

I gave my cock a stroke, still held out in front of me as if to pee. Sal's
piece had swollen to a hefty six inches, a hardened tube that pointed
straight out in front of him. My mouth watered as I stared at it.

What a perfect cock. That cock had been inside me... in my mouth, in my
ass... and it was going to be inside me again.

"Can I try?" I asked shyly.

Without waiting for an answer, I reached over with my free hand to grab
Sal's penis. My fingers closed around the fleshy cylinder— soft skin
over hardening flesh, on its way to full erection but still some give to
it— and I gently peeled the skin back. My own cock throbbed in my other
hand, dripping pre-cum off the side of the boat.

But Sal surprised me. He took my wrist and moved my hand off him, then
flicked his underwear back over his junk. I almost cried out in disapproval
as his oversized balls and thickening cock disappeared behind the dingy,
piss-stained cotton.

"No, bud," Sal said gruffly. "That's not what we're doing."

I couldn't hide the disappointment on my face. I could still feel the
warmth of him on my hand. Sal didn't seem to notice or care as he pulled up
his pants and fastened them, then finished his beer in one huge gulp.

"Better piss or put it away, bud," he said brightly. "Before the mosquitoes
get to it!"

I looked back down at my dick, now only half-hard thanks to Sal's
cock-blocking. Suddenly I did have to pee, and pretty fucking badly,
too. The urine rushed out of me in a stream almost as powerful as my
stepdad's. Sal whistled behind me as he split his attention between the
fishing lines and my arc of piss.

"That beer goes right through you, don't it?" he said playfully. "Ready for
another?"

I finished my piss and tucked my cock back into my boxer briefs. I was
still bummed that I hadn't gotten to play with Sal's cock... but then
again, that wasn't even part of the plan.

There was still so much more to come.

By the time we steered the boat back to shore, we had caught three
good-sized fish— Sal caught two, I caught the other (with generous
assistance from Sal, who basically reeled it in for me). We had also
polished off most of the two six-packs, though Sal took the lion's share of
that, too. He was feeling no pain as we dragged the boat's prow onto the
gravelly beach.

"Good day," he slurred. His meaty paw shot out and ruffled my hair, just a
little rougher than usual. I smiled and swatted him away, even though I
thrilled at his touch.

The wind picked up as the sun set behind the pines. Sal set up the tent
while I got a fire going and set out the fixings for dinner. He was too
tired (read: drunk) to clean the fish, so we settled on hot dogs. I
couldn't help but compare the thick tubes of meat to Sal's half-chubbed
cock— even as I wrapped my lips around one and took a big, juicy bite.

Dinner was good and we chatted amiably throughout. The temperature dropped
significantly once it got dark so Sal lurched to his feet to grab his
jacket from the tent. I scooted closer to the fire and bundled up. The
pines above creaked in the wind and a faint scent of ozone hung in the air.

When Sal settled back next to me, he suddenly had a bottle of Jack Daniels
in his hand. "Here. Have a swig. Warm ya up."

I accepted the bottle, which had clearly already been sampled. Sal was
really spoiling me with the booze... and luckily, he was drinking about
three or four to my one. I gulped a mouthful of the whiskey and shivered at
the taste. Sal chuckled and took the bottle back from me. I watched his
throat, covered in manly stubble, pulse up and down with every swallow. I
wasn't sure if the warmth in my chest was from the Jack or from the close
proximity to my drunk stepdad. Either way, I was feeling good and so was
he.

The bottle was about two-thirds full when our fireside conversation started
to turn.

"So, you used any of those condoms yet, bud?"

Sal leered at me, his eyes glassy in the flickering firelight. His megawatt
smile was slightly crooked, drunkenly teasing. He offered me the bottle.

I shifted on my tree stump seat as I took a tiny sip. Each drink was easier
than the last. "Um... no, not yet," I said shyly as I gave the bottle
back. But secretly I was thrilled; not only were we talking about sex, but
he was the one to bring it up.

Sal tipped the bottle back and took a big swig. He wiped his mouth with the
back of his hand and smacked his full, wet lips. "Ah, well," he said after
a moment. "Got plenty of time to make that happen."

"Yeah," I replied. "I guess."

It was now or never. If my plan had any hope of succeeding, this was the
moment.

"But..." I tried to come up with a nicer way to say it, but ultimately went
with my first thought. "Doesn't it suck to fuck with a condom on?"

Sal barked out a surprised laugh. Then he got suddenly serious. "Well, you
should always fuck with a condom on, bud. Always."

"We didn't," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Sal's face went slack. Even in the dancing orange glow of the fire I could
still make out the scarlet red blush in his cheeks. "We... we didn't..."

My hole puckered at the memory. "But... you weren't wearing a condom when
your cock went inside my—"

"Chase!" Sal roared. I flinched, genuinely startled. He softened almost
immediately. "That... that was an accident. I didn't... I never wanted
that."

A lump was forming in my throat. "It seemed like you did at the time."

"Well! I'm telling you, I didn't."

Why was this upsetting me so much? Why were my eyes burning? "So you're
telling me you like fucking with a condom on?" I said quickly, changing the
subject. But my mind was still on what he said.

"Yeah."

"You can't be serious," I scoffed, hoping he wouldn't see the tears welling
in my eyes.

"It's the same thing—"

"Liar!" I snatched the bottle from him and tipped it back. It was my
biggest, manliest swig yet and it burned all the way down.

Sal grabbed the bottle back from me, his expression unamused. "I'm not
lying." He threw his head back and gulped two quick mouthfuls. When the
bottle sloshed back down it was less than half full.

"So... you're telling me you like fucking with a condom better?" I
persisted.  Sal hesitated. His mustache twitched. I think we both knew what
we were actually talking about, and it had nothing to do with condoms.

I pressed on, encouraged: "You're telling me you don't want to cum inside a
hole? That you'd rather not put your cock in raw?"

Sal expelled a puff of air, something between a sigh and a shudder. I could
smell the whiskey on his breath from three feet away. He rubbed his
mustache distractedly. I glanced down at the bulge of his weathered
jeans. Was it just a trick of the firelight, or did I just see his dick
pulse?

I licked my lips and kept going. "I thought all dudes liked to fuck raw. I
thought that's what marriage was all about, that once you're married you
get to fuck raw and pass on your seed whenever you want. Isn't that right?"

"Uh..." Sal uttered, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Don't you want to breed, Sal?" I said quietly. My cock lurched. "Don't you
want to come inside a tight hole? Shoot your sperm inside, bareback?"

Sal couldn't look at me. But his pants were now unmistakably growing,
showing me his answer. "Fuck," he breathed.

The fire crackled. The wind rustled in the trees. Sal shifted on his tree
stump. If I wanted to, I could reach out and grasp him...

"It took less than a minute," I said in a low voice. "When your cock was
inside me... my hole made you cum in less than a minute."

"Fuck."

"You took it out before you could, but..."

"Chase—"

"It felt so good you almost came inside me. You almost bred me."

"I didn't—"

"It's weird, isn't it?" I said casually, shifting in closer. We were now
just a foot apart. Sal's whiskey breath was hot on my face. Goosebumps rose
on my skinny arms. Even through his thick camo jacket I could smell his
unwashed body, his ripe pits.  "It's weird that you make a son by cumming
inside a hole... that it's what's inside your cock, and your balls, that
makes a son. Isn't that weird?"

Sal opened his mouth to speak, but I was too fast. I grabbed a handful of
denim, rough and damp over his now steel-hard rod. It was hot to the touch,
pulsing beneath my fingers, alive with lust. Sal's breath caught in his
throat. I was holding my stepdad by the cock. His eyes finally met mine, a
mixture of shock and revulsion on his face.

But he did not pull away... so I continued. "This is what makes a son. Your
DNA, in here, that you shoot into a raw hole. That's how a son is born. But
the funny thing is: you don't even have to shoot it in a woman."

A circle of sticky wetness spread out on Sal's pants. His expression
shifted to confusion... and hunger. He whimpered as my hand slid back up,
my grip tightening on his erect cock.

"If I had your DNA inside me, I could be your real Son," I whispered. "And
you could be my real Dad."

"Fuck, Chase—"

"Exactly. That's how it works."

The wind was howling now. The fire flickered, on the verge of going out. I
ignored it all and kneaded my stepdad's cock through his pants. "You can
put a part of you inside me, Dad," I continued, "Deep, deep inside me. Your
DNA, becoming a part of me... absorbing into me? That's how I can become
your Son."

"Unngh."

Sal closed his eyes and took a shallow breath. I could feel him giving into
the pleasure I was giving him— encouraged, I knelt down on the dirt
between his spread legs. The fire was hot on my back as I leaned in and
carefully began to unzip my stepdad's pants. In the distance, a peal of
thunder rumbled.

The sudden sound seemed to break Sal out of his trance. He stood abruptly,
tearing his hot crotch out of my grasp. I sat back on my heels as he
stumbled away from the tree stump, his glassy eyes avoiding mine.

"Uh, storm's coming in bud," he slurred, re-zipping his pants with some
difficulty. "And it's getting late. Better close up for the night."

I sighed. My nuts were aching so badly— I had the worst case of
blue-balls ever. But I had gotten through the first part of the plan: I had
introduced the idea. Now I just had to be patient and ignore my throbbing
teen boner.

Sal busied himself with the tasks of closing up camp for the night, albeit
very sloppily. I heard him curse a few times as he shambled around the
campsite preparing everything for the coming rain.

When it did arrive, just a few minutes later, it came down with a
vengeance.

Suddenly Sal and I were in the middle of a downpour. I had never seen rain
like this before: cold, angry drops, torrential and instantaneous. He
barked out orders over the roar of the weather, getting my help to cover
the boat and stow the last of the gear. When at last we crawled into the
two-man tent, shivering and out of breath, our clothes were soaked through
to the skin.

Luckily, the waterproof tent was made to keep out the wet, but it couldn't
hold back the violent winds of the sudden mountain storm. The fragile
structure shook around us as we peeled off our wet clothes. I was so cold
that I barely even checked out Sal, who stumbled and swore as he undressed.

"Here, this'll help," he said with chattering teeth. He produced the bottle
of Jack Daniels, now about one third full, and handed it to me after he
gulped a generous shot.

The whiskey did warm me up, but not much. Even my cock had shriveled in my
damp boxer briefs by the time I crawled into my sleeping bag. The flannel
interior was chilly against my bare skin and I shivered in its folds. Sal
sloughed off his t-shirt and I got one good look at him in just his tighty
whities before he extinguished the lantern. As darkness fell on the tent,
the image of my beefy stepdad— thick hairy thighs, bulging crotch, furry
beer belly and meaty pecs with dark brown nipples— stayed in my mind's
eye long after.

I let a few moments of silence pass before I enacted Phase Two.

"Sal?"

He rustled in his sleeping bag. "Hmm?" he answered sleepily.

"Are you, like... freezing?"

"Hmm? It'll warm up."

The storm was raging outside. I listened to the violent patter of drops on
the canvas above before I continued. "Sal, I'm freezing. It's too cold. I
can't sleep."

"Jus' try, bud. Or put on some dry socks." Sal mumbled and rolled over.

I don't think he even heard me unzip my sleeping bag. When I tapped his
shoulder a moment later, he startled— utterly surprised that I was
suddenly kneeling right next to him in my underwear.

"Wha?! Bud, why are you out of your sleeping bag?"

"Can I please get in yours?"

Thunder rumbled, closer now. Sal did not respond. I shook his shoulder
gently. "Please, Sal? I'm freezing! It's so cold."

"Bud, just go back to your bag. It'll warm up."

"Body heat is better. Just for a minute?" I chattered my teeth for good
measure. I really was cold, but the nervous heat in my belly was growing. I
was so close. "Please? Five minutes, just to warm up. Please, Dad?"

The rain battered our tent. Tree branches whipped overhead. Wind howled
around us. Over all these noises, I'll still never forget the sound of that
sleeping bag zipper— how it rose above the din, that long, slow zip; the
sound of Sal's wordless assent.

The top flap of the sleeping bag flung back, revealing Sal's naked upper
torso. My eyes had adjusted enough to see the whorls of his chest hair in
the dark. He didn't say anything, just opened up the flap and his arms. I
crawled in without a word as well, nestling down next to Sal in the cramped
confines of the flannel-lined sleeping bag. Since I was closer to the
zipper now, I found it with my trembling fingers and zipped it slowly,
methodically, all the way up.

My body settled into Sal's. His warm, hairy skin pressed into mine. It
couldn't be helped— these sleeping bags were made for one regular-sized
guy, and Sal was slightly meatier than average. With my lanky teen body
added to the mix, there was nowhere for our flesh to go but together. We
were spooning, my back to his front, his muscled chest and padded belly
warm against my back. His top arm draped down over me, coming to rest
around my chest. I felt suddenly so warm, so safe. I was in Sal's arms,
practically naked, in the middle of a storm with no one around for miles.

It was time.

What Sal didn't know was that I had prepared for this moment. Beneath my
boxer briefs my tight pink asshole was coated with lube. I had stashed the
tiny tube in my backpack for the trip and applied it to my hole, along with
a few thrusting fingers, before I left my own sleeping bag. In fact, I'd
been surreptitiously fingering my hole all day long, whenever Sal wasn't
looking, to make sure I was loose enough for his thick cock. Now my teen
hole was wet, worked, and ready to be filled. It puckered as I pressed into
Sal, my tight ass cheeks against his bulging crotch.

Sal's breath, heavy with whiskey and sleep, caught in his throat. He seemed
to wake up a bit as my ass grinded into him. He halfheartedly cleared his
throat behind me, sending a cloud of Jack Daniels scent into my hair and
face. I breathed it in hungrily and scooted back even further. Our bodies
were enmeshed, our legs intertwined. The sleeping bag was filled with our
warmth. Only two layers of cotton underwear separated us... and I was about
to fix that.

One hand grabbed Sal's furry forearm, still slung over my chest, and held
it gently in place. The other hand snaked down into my underwear, damp with
pre-cum and bulging with my boner. I slipped the waistband down slowly,
carefully, sliding it over the mounds of my ass. When I pressed into Sal
again it was with my bare ass cheeks. My boxer briefs stayed on, tangled
around my mid-thighs. I caressed Sal's forearm, thrilling to the soft manly
hairs that tickled my palm.

"Thanks, Dad," I whispered. "You're so warm."

Sal let out a low grunt in answer. Something shifted in his briefs. I
jutted my ass out further and felt it meet me, getting harder with every
beat of his heart.

"You're the best, Dad."

I grinded my bare ass against him. Sal grumbled, his voice deep with
bass. A hard tube pressed between my cheeks, dewy against my lubed hole. My
hand reached back slowly.

"I'm so glad you're my Dad."

My fingers found the stretched elastic waistband of Sal's briefs. I pulled
ever so gently, slow and steady. The protruding erection caught on the
fabric and left a slick, wet, stain. I used one finger to adjust the
throbbing meat and slid Sal's underwear down below his drooping balls.

"You want to be my Dad, don't you?"

Flesh connected with flesh for the first time in too long. Sal's cock was
bare, free, almost fully hard. It pressed into my tight ass, poking the
cheek before settling in the valley between. A low groan rumbled in Sal's
throat.

"Don't you want to be my Dad?"

"Fuck."

Sal's cock was hot and throbbing, pulsing to full hardness. The foreskin
peeled halfway down the head, opening up his wide piss slit. A steady
stream of milky pre-cum flowed out of him like drool from a hungry
mouth. That slick fluid drenched my fingers as I reached back and wrapped
them around Sal's cock. I guided his flared, half-hooded head toward my
waiting hole. His pre-cum mixed with lube as our genitals touched, his cock
to my hole. Then the lips of my asshole closed around his slit, connecting
us. I opened myself to my stepdad and felt his head press into my tight,
near-virgin hole.

"I want to be your Son."

"Ahhh God..."

I pushed into him and the rigid cockhead dug into my hole, slowly sinking
inside me. The thrill of swallowing my stepdad's cock with my ass urged me
on, even as I felt the first twinge of pain. The head was almost in; the
lip of Sal's foreskin met the lips of my hole and they kissed for the
second time.

"Don't you want a Son of your own?"

"Fuck..."

I let go of Sal's throbbing cock but that did not stop it. He didn't need
me to guide him anymore.

"Don't you want to fuck raw?"

"Aw fuck..."

Sal's head popped through my hole and sunk into my velvety ass walls. He
didn't stop. The shaft was invading me, giving me no time to adjust. My
voice strained as I continued to encourage him.

"Don't you want to cum inside a raw hole?"

"Fuuu-uuu..."

Two inches of cock in me. Three inches. My stepdad was entering my body
with his pulsing manhood.

"Plant your seed?"

A shot of his pre-cum lubed my insides. Four inches of cock. Four and a
half.

"Make a Son of your own?"

Five inches. Thick cock spreading my hole wide. Five and a half. Filling me
up all the way.

"Watch him grow?"

Six inches. Seven. I was beyond full now, my ass straining to contain the
monster cock inside it.

"Make a Son?" I said through strained breaths. It wasn't t like last
time— this time, it hurt. But it was a delicious pain; the price my body
willingly paid to accommodate that which it desired most. I breathed
through the pain and marveled at the fact that my stepdad's bare, raw cock
was inside me again— right where it belonged.

"Fuuuuck."

"Make me your Son, Dad," I begged him. "Give me your load."

His wiry, unkempt pubes grinded against my taint. I had all seven and a
half inches of Sal in me, balls deep. He pulsed inside me, thickening
impossibly more as his cock belched pre-cum into the tight sheath of my
anus.

"FUCK!"

A flash of lightning lit up the tent, incredibly close. Thunder boomed
overhead. Wind bellowed, branches snapped, canvas flapped— but the
cacophony of the storm could not drown out Sal's primal roar. His hand shot
out and grabbed my ass cheek in a white-knuckled grip. Fingers dug into my
flesh as his cock slid backwards, leaving a sudden emptiness deep within
me. I was afraid he was going to pull out and push me away... but at the
last second, before his head withdrew, Sal paused. With another manly roar,
he plunged his cock back into me even deeper than before. I yelped in pain
and surprise, then again in pleasure. My stepdad's bareback cock pressed
against my prostate and sent me into the stratosphere. But before I could
even register the feeling, he withdrew and punched back in, then repeated
the process again and again, faster and deeper with every thrust.

Holy shit... Sal was fucking me.

"Ah God. Aw, fuck!"

Sal cursed and spat as his hips slapped my ass over and over. The air
inside the sleeping bag smelled like balls, sweat, and booze. My asshole
clenched around Sal's invading manhood. He was a man possessed, fucking me
like an animal. His cock plowed into me with no mercy, no pause, no regard
for my pleasure or pain. He was using me as a hole. I was just a cumdump to
him in that moment— a tight place for him to unload. And I couldn't have
been happier.

"Fuck me, Dad!"

Sal let out an angry roar. I could tell he was pissed; his fucking took on
a rabid quality, savage and hurried. His clenching fingers bruised my
tender ass cheeks as his cock pummeled my raw hole.

"Oh God, Dad! It feels so good!"

"Fuck!"

His cock had swollen to its fullest: eight solid inches of thick man
meat. He was going to cum soon... and this time, I was going to take his
load.

"Make me your Son, Dad!"

"AHHH!" Another primal roar from Sal, lower and laced with anxiety. The
fight within him was clear: on the one hand he was desperate to cum, lost
in the immense pleasure of fucking my tight teen hole bareback. On the
other hand, he was wracked with guilt and self-loathing, ashamed of the
taboo act that he was committing. Salvatore Hernandez was fucking his own
stepson. He could barely believe that it was happening— and neither
could I.

But that didn't stop either of us.

I pushed my ass back against him, showing him my need. Sal rammed his cock
up into me, raking my swollen prostate with the blunt head of his dick. He
paused there, balls deep, and swiveled his hips against me. We both moaned
as his cockhead stirred deep in my guts.

"Oh God," Sal groaned, deep and desperate.  "Oh fuck. Chase?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"I'm... oh God... I'm gonna cum."

"Yeah? Yeah, Dad?"

He moaned again. His bass voice took on a higher pitch, an almost whiny
quality, like he didn't want this to happen. "Chase, I'm gonna cum!"

"Yeah Dad! Come on, Dad!"

"Chase? Son?!" His words came between heaving breaths, choked with
sobs. His hips never stopped pistoning. "Oh God, I'm gonna cum!"

Sal's full balls slapped against my taint. We were both drenched in
sweat. My hole clenched as the first throes of my orgasm ripped through me.

"Me too, Dad! I'm cumming! You're making me cum, Dad!"

Jizz fired from my cock into the folds of the sleeping bag. I cried out,
limp and helpless, as the most powerful orgasm of my life took me
over. Five, six, seven spurts of milky cum drenched the flannel beneath
me. My eyes rolled back in my head as every muscle in my ass relaxed, then
clenched down hard around Sal's cock.

"FUCK!" he screamed out. "I'm gonna cum in you!"

"Cum in me, Dad!" I shouted back.

"I'm cumming, Son!" He sounded surprised, angry, determined. Sal shoved his
cock all the way into me, deeper than ever. The skin at the top of his
testes slid past my ass lips. He was beyond balls deep, his cock touching
places in me that had never been touched before.

"I'm cumming in you, Son!" he cried helplessly. "Oh God forgive me fuck
fuck FUCK!"

I felt every pulse, every shot, every sensation of my stepdad unloading in
me. The first shot expanded his cock all the way from his nuts to his
gaping piss slit, like the lump in a python after it swallows a mouse. His
cum sprayed into me so hard I suddenly felt like I had to piss. It
ricocheted off the sensitive walls of my ass and filled my innermost
cavities with thick white. The next shot fired with equal velocity. Sal let
out an inhuman roar as his nuts contracted, releasing their precious sperm
into me. My asshole gulped him up, swallowing his babies deeper with every
muscle contraction.

Still, by the sixth and seventh shot Sal had filled my ass to
capacity. Thick white cum burbled out of the thin crack between his cock
skin and my ass lips. Like white magma, Sal's clumpy cum boiled out of me
and dribbled over his hairy nuts and my bruised taint. He shuddered,
cursed, groaned like a man possessed. His cock pulsed again and again. More
and more virile sperm leaked out of him and coated my insides. I was
thoroughly creamed, bred beyond my wildest dreams. Sal's sperm wriggled
their way into my ass walls, fighting to impregnate me. My body welcomed
them. In that moment, I was the happiest I had ever been.

My plan had worked. I was now well and truly knocked up, full of my
stepdad's potent seed.

Operation: Real Dad was a success.

...But what now?

This was traditionally the moment when my stepdad's guilt and shame took
over. Once the sensations of pleasure subsided, the reality of our
situation would sink in. He had just experienced an earth-shattering
orgasm, planting his seed in the tight asshole of his teenaged stepson.
But Sal was straight, and wanted to be a good Dad, and would never do
anything like this if I hadn't seduced him. So would he fly into a
testosterone-fueled fit? Now that we had gone further than ever before,
trapped in a windblown tent in the middle of nowhere, how would Sal
react— and was I ready for the consequences?

My answer came in the form of a long, deep snore.

Sal had fallen asleep— with his cock still rock hard and dumping inside
me. Utterly spent after a long day outdoors, a ton of booze, and the
tightest, most taboo fuck of his life, Sal had finally succumbed to sleep.

A warmth spread out inside me, from my throbbing colon all the way up
through my torso to my smiling face. I was content. I was proud of
myself. I was pregnant with my own stepbrothers. Damn the consequences.

I reached over to my phone, propped up against the camping lantern where I
placed it, and pressed the STOP button. The video would likely be
indistinguishable in the pitch-black tent, but at least I would have an
audio recording. I couldn't wait to get my earbuds in and experience this
fuck over and over, again and again.

With a deep sigh, and Sal still semi-hard inside me, I closed my eyes and
settled into the best sleep of my life.

******

*** MISSING CHAPTER – See Below ***

******

Epilogue

We drove home the next day without saying a word. The companionable quiet
of our trip into the mountains had been replaced by a steely silence, edged
with the awkward discomfort of a hook-up that shouldn't have happened. I
was still elated, of course. My plan worked better than expected and we
were on a new sexual level after our two-day trip. But I couldn't get a
read on Sal. His jaw was set in determination the entire drive, his eyes
locked on the road. Was he pissed off? Contemplative? Sexually confused?
Miserable? Was there any possibility that he liked what we'd done? That he
wanted to do more?

These questions and more filled my head on the long drive home. Whenever I
got too anxious about it, I just focused on the dull ache in my ass, the
tinge of pain that still lingered from my stepdad's brutal butt fucking. No
matter what happened next, I would always have that memory.

I would always have Sal's load inside me.

We got back to the house around five in the afternoon. Mom was out so we
were alone in the garage to unpack the gear. I kept thinking of ways to
strike up a conversation, jokes to crack, but in the end I opted to keep my
mouth shut. I was too tired from the drive (and let's face it, too scared)
to bother.

Once everything was stowed, Sal mumbled something about a shower and
disappeared upstairs. Oh, how I wanted to follow him... soap up his beefy
body, worship his uncut cock... the fantasies overwhelmed me even after a
sex-filled weekend. But I knew Sal needed space, and I didn't want to press
my luck and risk getting rejected. So I hung out in my room and replayed
the events of the weekend. I laid on my bed and watched the video of Sal
fucking me— three minutes and forty seconds of black screen with lots of
thunder and rain, but the dialogue near the end was pretty incredible:

"FUCK! I'm gonna cum in you!"

"Cum in me, Dad!"

"I'm cumming, Son! I'm cumming in you, Son! Oh God forgive me fuck fuck
FUCK!"

I listened to it over and over and finally blew my load all over my chest
to the sounds of Sal's breeding. Fuck... was it just me, or did we have
great sexual chemistry? My deflating, cum-covered cock twitched in my hand
at the thought.

Maybe Sal was so conflicted because he actually liked fucking me? Maybe
unloading in his stepson was exactly what he needed. It was probably just
wishful thinking, but was it just crazy enough to be true?

And if it was true... when was our next fuck?

******

The next morning I came down to an empty kitchen. Usually Mom and Sal were
bustling about, getting ready for their workdays, but this morning the
house was eerily quiet. I peeked into the living room and found them there
sitting across from each other: Mom in her armchair and Sal in his usual
spot on the couch. Mom was dressed for work but Sal was still in his
flannel lounge pants and white T-shirt— very unusual, as he was always
the first one out the door. His hair was disheveled and his eyes
red-rimmed, like he'd been crying. He looked like shit.

Something wasn't right.

"Good morning, Chase," Mom said in an icy tone. "Sit down. We need to
talk."  My heart leapt into my throat. "Um... k."

I moved slowly to the open armchair, next to Sal and across from Mom. Her
face was stoic, unreadable. Sal was hunched forward, elbows on his knees,
his face in his hands. Meaty fingers spread out over his bushy black
mustache. He looked defeated— smaller, somehow. He avoided my gaze as I
sat down.

"Chase," Mom began, "something has been going on in this house and we need
to talk about it."

My face went beet red. My pulse pounded in my ears. Oh God... this was
it. This was the moment I always feared, but never really dared to imagine.

Mom knew.

She continued, her voice steady, eyes flicking to Sal. "There has been
infidelity in our marriage and it can't go on any longer."

I shrank into the chair. Sweat broke out on my forehead, my palms, the back
of my neck. I couldn't breathe. My eyes darted to Sal. He stared forward,
unmoving, utterly miserable. Oh God... what had we done? What had I done?

"Mom..." I sniffled, my eyes welling with tears. "Mom, I—"

"Please, Chase," she snapped. "Let me finish. I... need to finish this."

My lips squeezed shut, my jaw trembled. Sal still would not look at me. He
looked broken.

"Sal and I have been talking all morning," Mom continued. "And since this
affects you, we need to speak with you as well."

Mom's face, a mask of stoicism up until now, broke into a sob. That's when
I lost it. There's nothing worse than seeing your Mom cry, especially when
you're the cause.  Hot tears poured down my cheeks as Mom struggled to
speak.

"I'm tired of the secrets," she cried. "I'm tired of the lies."

My whole body shuddered with sobs.  Sal still would not look at me. I could
barely form words around the lump in my throat. "Mom, I'm sorry—"

But how could I possibly explain it? Hey Mom, sorry I fucked your husband?
Sorry I seduced my straight stepdad? Sorry I jerked him off, sucked him
off, and stuck his cock in my ass? The enormity of what I'd done was too
overwhelming. I couldn't justify it, couldn't ever make her feel better
about it. I had ruined my relationship with my Mom and it would never, ever
be the same.

"Chase," she sniffled. "I cheated on your stepfather."

My sob caught in my throat. "Wh... what?"

Mom shook her head in shame. "I've been unfaithful. For quite some time."

My teary eyes darted from Mom to Sal. He hadn't moved an inch. He still
held his head in his hands and stared out at nothing.

I couldn't wrap my head around what I was hearing. "I-I don't
understand..."

Mom struggled through the explanation. "His name is Russ. He works with me
at the hospital. We didn't plan it! I wasn't unhappy. I love Sal, but..."

She looked at him but he would not move. Mom broke out into fresh sobs. I
stared at them both, jaw dropped open in confusion. What the fuck was
happening?!

"Sal and I think..." Mom said between sniffles, "that it would be best if
we... if you and I move out."

"What?!"

"Until we can work this out—"

"No, I—"

"If we can work this out—"

"But Sal—"

"We're going to stay with Russ until we can—"

"What?!" I erupted. "I don't want to stay with some guy! Some stranger!" I
couldn't believe that Mom could do this to Sal... how could she be
unfaithful to such an amazing, sexy guy? It didn't even occur to me in that
moment that he had also been unfaithful— with me, no less, her own son.

"Chase, you need to understand—"

"No! You need to understand!" I cried. "I don't want to leave. I want to
stay with Sal."

"No."

Sal's voice was low, scratchy. It sounded hoarse, as if he had been
screaming all morning. Maybe he had been.

I looked at him, my expression desperate. "But, Sal..."

"You can't stay," he said quietly. Then his eyes swiveled to me for the
first time. That's when I truly saw the hurt, the depth of sadness that
this unexpected turn of events had wrought.

Sal was heartbroken.

But there was a fire behind his eyes when he looked at me, something
between rage and hunger. It burned into me as he said, in a quiet but
steady voice: "I'm afraid of what will happen if you stay."

Then he turned away, his gaze unfocused once more. The rest of the
conversation— the logistics of the move, the preliminary planning—
was lost in a sea of worries and questions and sudden realizations.

So that was why she put in those long hours at the hospital...

So that was why she insisted that Sal wear condoms when they fucked...

So that was why she pressured us to go on our fishing trip, leaving her at
home...

So that was why his sexual outlet had become his eager, horny stepson...

I was barely listening, practically numb, when the conversation eventually
ended. Sal stood up shakily. He shuffled out of the room as if
sleepwalking.

I took him in from head to toe— my beefy blue-collar stepdad, kind and
gentle and sexy. I loved everything about this man: his dark curls flecked
with gray, his bushy full mustache, his plain yet handsome face, his
perfect combination of manly muscles covered in padding and dark fur. I
loved his thick uncut cock, his drooping foreskin, his pendulous balls
brimming with thick, clumpy cum choked with sperm. I loved the twin globes
of his ass, whorled with hair, his not-quite-virgin asshole. I loved his
meaty thighs and muscled calves and long, dirty toes. I loved his smells
and his smiles and his fluids and everything in between. How was I going to
live without him?

And who was this new man in Mom's life, this guy named `Russ'? How could he
possibly compare to Sal? How hot would he have to be to turn Mom's
attention away from this perfect specimen of manhood?

Little did I know as Sal disappeared down the hall that this would be the
last time I'd see him for quite a while. Mom and I were about to embark on
an entirely new phase of life: one without Sal.

But before we left the house that day, overburdened with hastily packed
luggage, I made a silent, solemn vow: that no matter who this `Russ' guy
was, I was going to do everything in my power to break up his relationship
with Mom and get her back together with Sal.

Because Salvatore Hernandez was my real Dad now. He put his sperm inside me
and made me his Son— and I was going to fight for us, for our family. No
matter how he felt about it, or what Mom had done in the interim, I was
certain of one thing:

Sal would be my Dad again.


******


To Be Continued in "Stepdad Versus Stepdad" previewing soon on Nifty!


******

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