The second my mom introduced me to her new boyfriend, Jason, I knew that I'd be happy calling him Dad. But it wasn't until I turned eighteen that I realized why he made me so excited to see him. From his gorgeous brown hair to his gleaming smile. From his knock on pecs to his phantom dick I just knew I had to taste. He was the wakeup call that I was something other than straight.
My real dad was never in the picture. When mom and Jason married, we moved in with him. But it wasn't until I became "legal" that my thoughts of him became more and more constant, aggressive, and soon enough, erotic. Every stroke session I had was of him in mind. My imagination gave me something different mostly everytime. Sometimes he'd be the tough father figure that took me over his knee for being a bad boy while i yelled "Yes, daddy!" with each spank. Other times i'd imagine creeping under his covers and then french his juicy cock through his white briefs while he was asleep. But my favorite fantasy of him was what I like to call "Come On, dad...Moms Not Here".
It seemed to be the most realistic and the hottest out of the scenarios. I'd imagine my mom being away for a night or two while I successfully seduce my stepfather. Nonchalantly get closer, rub his thigh, listen to his protests and just telling him "Come on, dad...moms not here". Eventually, he caves, and the rest is what I imagine happens next.
Fuck, I just NEEDED this fantasy to turn into a sweet and sinful reality. This crush turned into overwhelming lust. I couldn't take it anymore. I NEEDED him.
So, about six months after my 18th, my mom tells me she has to go over my great aunt Shirleys for the weekend to go over her Will and Testament mumbo jumbo, meaning Jason and I would be all alone. I almost couldn't hide my enthusiasm at this news.
NO MORE missed opportunities. NO MORE hesitation.
I NEEDED my stepfather.
On friday, my mom left about seven in the morning for the long drive to Ohio. Around ten, I went downstairs and saw Jason lounged on the love seat watching a recap of a football game. He was only wearing a red tank top and his black boxer briefs, my favorite pair on him.
He looked so perfect. With Bulging arms, hairy legs and toned thighs. So muscular, so manly. A perfect specimen.
"Hey, Alex." He said with a tired smile. His bed head fluffed up and his five o clock shadow in perfect harmony.
So...Fucking...Hot.
"Hey, Dad. Did mom leave?" I asked, walking over to the love seat and sitting next to him. He nodded.
I sat for a while, pretending I was interested in the sports newscast. I remained silent, completely unsure what my approach was gonna be. I was still a virgin, but I figured I'd picked up a few things from a variety of porn.
THINK OF SOMETHING, MAKE SOMETHING UP, my mind screamed. NO MORE HESITATION!
"So, uhh...I had a dream last night..." I said with a slight stutter.
I already had Jasons full attention. Ofcourse I did, he was so caring, so loving. A hunk and an Ideal father figure; a wet dream come true.
"Yeah," He said, seemingly worried. "did it upset you, son?" He then placed a warm hand on my shoulder.
"No...not at all. It felt completely right... it was just sort of an...adult dream..." My voice was surprisingly less nervous as I felt. It was slowly building confidence.
Jason slightly unclasped his hand on my shoulder, but didn't take it off entirely.
"Oh...well, if everything felt right, how come you seem kinda anxious about it. Who was in the dream with you?"