Max was finally able to rip his eyes away up to the young man’s face, and it was a face he knew–the face of his live in house and pool boy, yes, it was that. Young, framed by a carefully manicured shock of blonde hair, smile beaming, but it was also a face he knew from a cubicle, from working closely with him for months. “J-Julian?”
“Julian sir? Please, I hate that name. Call me Jules, like you always have, it makes me feel so young and sexy,” he said with a slight growl, leaning in close, and then slid back. “Enjoy the first course! I’ll have more for you in a moment, sir.” He slipped back to the kitchen, ass swishing the whole way, Max’s eyes helplessly glued to it until it slipped through the door, and he turned to Junior.
“What…did you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“You…you fucking know what I mean!” Max said, “What the fuck did you do to him? To…to this house? To my…my fucking life!”
He was standing. He was standing, and his fists were clenched, and the anger was pouring through him, but Junior was unaffected. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying himself, and that only made him angrier. “Oh Daddy, if you didn’t want what I was offering, then you should have been a bit more careful about who you let into your house, and who you fuck.”
“What?”
“Look, it isn’t really your problem anyway–he’s the one who made the choice, Daddy. He was out of a job, his wife was leaving him and was going to take everything–kids, house, car, you name it. I gave him…a job opportunity, and I must say Jules has taken to it with such gusto, I’m so happy for him, I really am, and you’re going to…enjoy him so much. I do know your type, after all. Besides, you don’t even remember Julian, do you? Because that isn’t your job, anymore. No Daddy, you’re much, much more important than any of that, and I also know, for a fact, that you are very, very hungry. So why don’t you have a seat there, and eat?”
Max tried to object, he tried to fight, but somehow his stepson was able to maneuver him back into the chair and push him up against the table, lift the cover from the platter, and reveal a massive spread of food. Max found himself staring at it with the same intensity he’d had for Jule’s ass, and when Junior put food on his plate, he started…eating. And he ate, and he ate, until the platter was empty, but by then Jules had returned with a second, and Junior kept piling his plate full, encouraging him more, pouring mimosa after mimosa, and as he ate, as he stuffed himself, all of this began to feel more…normal.
This was, after all, how he spent his weekends. Huge breakfasts and huge dinners, all prepared by his beautiful and incredibly sexy Jules. Sure, he could remember Julian…a little bit, but it was losing urgency. It was losing…focus. And Junior was touching him, running his hands over him, handling the fork, feeding him, kissing him when he felt too full to go on, and then helping him eat more. It was at least an hour later when Jules finally stopped bringing in platters, when he was allowed to finish and relax, Junior pulling his chair out, stroking his bloated belly gently, giving him soft, gentle kisses between his moans.
“I…don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much in my whole life.”
“I think you’ll be eating like that much more often, Daddy, you little glutton,” Junior said, “Besides, it feels good, doesn’t it? Feeling heavy, feeling full, eating more than you should, being greedy. You like it.”
He did like it, but…he didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to admit that letting go, that giving in felt amazing, that seeing Junior…seeing the way his stepson was looking at his bloat was turning him on. That his cock was as hard as it’s ever been in his life, that Junior was toying with it through the silk. When the door opened and Jules entered, it didn’t occur to him for a moment that this–him and his stepson making out–was the least bit improper. Jules certainly didn’t seem to think anything was wrong, and from the glimpse he got of his package as he walked over, barely constrained by his green jock. “How was breakfast, sir? It seems that you cleaned every plate.”
“Absolutely…delicious,” he said, Junior taking a moment to suck on his neck, “You’re a wonderful chef.”
“You know,” Jules said, “I have other talents other than cooking.” He stepped forward, his neon package inches from Max’s face, “Perhaps, sir, I could interest you in dessert?”
He shouldn’t. He was reaching out, groping Jule’s package roughly. What was he even doing, anymore? This…this wasn’t him. This wasn’t something he would have ever considered doing before, in that other life. His hand gripped Jules by the cock and pulled him closer, shoving his face into the pouch of his jock, sniffing and licking, listening to his houseboy moan, run his hand through his hair. He hooked a finger in the strap and tugged it down, freeing his young, already erect cock. He licked the head gently, and then began sucking, one of his hands slipping behind him, probing his taut hole with one finger. Junior had his silk shirt unbuttoned and was working lower, slipping his stepfather’s cock free from his pants and licking gently, slowly. It was a tease, but Max didn’t mind. He was enjoying this. These young men, desperate for him, desperate to please him. Because he was important. Because he mattered. He held Jules at the edge for a while, listening to him moan, two fingers inside him, pressing into him, and finally he came. Only then did he heft himself up from his chair, gut aching but he pushed past it. Junior had kept him hard, had kept him prepared, and he pushed Jules over the table, pushing his cock inside him with a single, firm thrust.
Bracken's Corner 