Max was already not having a very good day. He’d hit the snooze button one too many times, and finally managed to roll out of bed and find his way into his apartment kitchen to try and cobble together some breakfast for himself. He didn’t exactly have time for much, not if he didn’t want to be late to the office, and with how Mr. Carson was feeling about him stalling on his decision, being late wasn’t going to be an option for him. He popped some bread in the toaster, and while it cooked he tried to found his shoes, tied his tie. The toast was too light; he put it down for another round. He scrounged together the papers covering the ikea coffee table he’d bought off Craigslist, and smelled something burning–now it was overdone. He slathered it with some butter and started checked to make sure he had everything, when his stepson came around the corner, muscular arms stretched and flexed high as he yawned.
Wait–Stepson?
“Fuck daddy, did you have to burn the house down?”
He didn’t have a stepson. Hell, he’d never even been married before. He worked too much to date–and he was gay anyway. The young man dropped his arms, scratching his bare abs. Fuck, he was built, and didn’t mind showing it off, obviously. He was only wearing a pair of skimpy briefs which were cut a bit small, and were colored an electric blue. Max took a bite of toast, his eyes fixed on his stepson’s cock outlined in his underwear…what had he been thinking about again?
“I hope my breakfast isn’t that burnt like that.”
Max shook his head, “What? I didn’t make anything for you.”
“What do you mean you didn’t make me anything?” he pouted, “You always make me breakfast, daddy.”
“Look…” He drew a blank, trying to conjure his stepson’s name. That was odd, right? Wasn’t…wasn’t all of this odd? He didn’t remember this young man at all. He stared harder, trying to find a name, find anything in his memory that could tell him who this young man was, what he was doing in his apartment, why…why his eyes were so blue, like fucking crystal, and whenever he cocked his head to the side like that and smirked, fuck his cock got hard. He could feel it tenting in his suit pants–his stepson’s eyes broke away from his, flashed down to his crotch and back up. Max blushed and looked away. What had he even been getting ready to say? Breakfast, they’d been talking about breakfast, right? “Look, let me see what…what we have.” He set his toast down on the counter and walked over to the pantry. “There’s cereal, why don’t you just pour yourself a bowl?”
“But I want something…hotter than that.”
“Oatmeal?”
“Something…meatier, I think…”
Max looked over at him, but his stepson’s eyes were on his body, and a wave of heat shot through him. What was he doing? Was…was he hitting on him? Why…why didn’t that bother him more than he imagined it should? “Meat….meat, right…well,” he hurried over to the fridge and started looking around inside, “I have bacon.”
“No sausage?”
“N-No…no sausage this morning.”
His stepson let out a long sigh, “Fine, I guess I’ll just have some bacon and eggs then.”
Max pulled the carton of eggs from the fridge along with the pack of bacon and set them on the counter, got out a couple of pans and started heating them on the stove, when he remembered he was still late for work. “Shit!” he said, “Look…uh….look, I’m going to be late for work, I can’t make this for you, I’m sure you can…can…uhh…” Max had turned around and discovered his stepson had moved from the doorway to the kitchen and taken a seat at the small table in the nook, facing Max at the stove. His legs were spread wide, giving him a clear shot of his thick, muscular thighs and that big bulge again. Hiss stepson wasn’t looking at him, however, and he ran one hand across one pec and down his firm abs before cupping his bulging crotch in one hand and giving it a squeeze, Max’s own cock spasming as it did, spurting out a bit of precum into his underwear. He turned around quickly, hoping his stepson hadn’t noticed, and laid out the bacon in the pan, focusing on it for a few minutes, though he did risk the occasional peek over his shoulder at the young man behind him, though whether it was out of fear or allure he couldn’t quite tell–or be honest with himself.
“Don’t make the bacon too crispy–I want it to have some bite.”
“Sure.”
“And I want the eggs medium well. Like…when you break them with a fork, it should ooze out like…like…like cum from a daddy’s cock.”
Max whirled around, “What did you say?”
He didn’t reply, he just kept massaging his crotch, and Max whirled back around, blushing hard.
The bacon was done–he cooked the eggs in the grease left behind and served them to his stepson on a plate. “Thanks daddy, you’re the best.”
“Oh, I mean, you’re welcome…” he still didn’t have a name for him, why couldn’t he think of his own stepson’s name! He stared at him, trying to remember, trying to piece this together again, but his eyes got lost in his stepson’s arms as he ate, moving egg and bacon to his mouth, those lips, big lips, and now he wished he’d had some sausage, wished he could see those lips wrapped around something thick, wrapped around his cock. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t normal. “You…you know, this is going to sound very odd, but…but somehow I forgot your name.”
His stepson smirked, “Ah, names. What’s in a name, really? Such a bother, really. Why don’t you just call me Junior, alright daddy? Now, shouldn’t you be getting to work?”
Fuck.
He looked at the clock–he’d wasted half an hour making Junior breakfast, and now he definitely was going to be late. He hurried to gather the rest of his things and head for the door, but Junior called to him, “Wait daddy! You can’t leave without giving me a kiss, right?”
A bit exasperated, he walked over to where Junior was finishing his breakfast, intending to just give him a peck on the cheek, but his stepson pushed his face back towards his and locked lips with him. It was electric, Junior slipping his tongue into Max’s mouth, shocking him, and yet…and yet…he pushed back, shoving his tongue into his stepson, invading him tasting him. He realized he was moaning, his hard cock pressed against Junior’s side, but he didn’t care. Finally, Junior pushed him away gently, Max licking his lips. “I’ll see you when you get home, daddy. I love you.”
“I…I love you too…” Max said, backed away, and then rushed for the door, opening it and slamming it behind him before Junior could say anything else, and took a moment to breathe. What had he just done? No one kisses their stepson like that! But fuck, if he could still feel his thick lips, fuck if he couldn’t imagine what they’d feel like wrapped around his cock. How…how old was Junior, anyway? Something in the way he’d kissed gave him the idea that he was old enough. And…and its not like they were family anyway, right?
No. A Thousand times no.
He hurried to his car and drove to the office, and even though he was half an hour late, he couldn’t go in like this. His cock had been hard for the whole commute, and his pants were too tight to hide it. He couldn’t let people see this, right? So he jacked off in his car–it was the only reasonable thing to do, right? He jacked off, and he fantasized about his stepson, about junior, about peeling off that blue underwear, about tasting his young cock, about shoving him to his knees grabbing that blonde hair of his in his fist and shoving his cock down his young throat, fucking, fucking fuck–
He shot into a napkin he’d managed to find in the center console, mopped himself up as best he could, and then hurried into his office. He didn’t know what he was going to do about Junior–and he passed off his lateness as his alarm not going off properly. But still, as the day wore on, the horniness didn’t ever abate. All he could think about was his stepson, as he slipped away to the bathroom more than once to relieve some of the tension. When the day was over, he didn’t know what to feel. Terror? Excitement? Arousal? He drove home with all three swirling in his gut together, climbed the steps to his apartment, and paused outside. He couldn’t do this. He should call the police, report an intruder…but he wasn’t an intruder, was he? He didn’t even know anymore, all he wanted was those lips, to feel those soft lips against is, to taste his tongue again, and his shaking hand managed to force the key into the lock, and he pushed it in.
His stepson was waiting just inside the door, still in his underwear. Had he done anything today? Gone to school? Watched TV? Or had he just stood there, at the door, waiting? They shared another kiss, longer than the one they had that morning, and his worries all faded and ebbed away, sucked out of him by Junior. “So daddy, what’s for dinner?” he said, wrapping one hand in Max’s tie, holding him close, “I hope its steak or something, because I’m still in the mood for meat.”
Bracken's Corner 