graybeards:From the familiar stomping footsteps that roused me from a nap, I knew my stepdad Jeff
graybeards: From the familiar stomping footsteps that roused me from a nap, I knew my stepdad Jeff must have gotten home. I ditched my afternoon class after pulling an all-nighter and came home early to get a few hours of sleep, but with my bedroom right below the entryway Jeff sounded like a pacing rhino. I pulled on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt and started to walk upstairs, but something stopped me from calling out hello. I found myself creeping up the creaky wooden stairs into the kitchen—empty. I didn’t hear Jeff walking anymore, and I was suddenly curious about what dear old stepdad got up to when he had the house to himself. It wasn’t the first time I fantasized about it. I slid quietly and slowly down the hallway toward mom and Jeff’s master bedroom. The door was wide open, and as I approached I heard an unmistakable rhythmic thumping that preceded a low-pitched moan. I froze. One more step and I’d be able to see inside. I took a deep breath and leaned forward. Jeff was lying back on the bed, his business shirt unbuttoned and framing his hairy chest and belly and his pants and underwear pulled down just enough to let his thick cock jut toward the ceiling. My stepdad was stroking himself with his head lolled back on the bed and eyes up. It was exquisite. I thought about just watching—it was intoxicating to get this glimpse of a private moment—but I couldn’t resist. I stepped back a little before I walked forward and bellowed, “Hey Jeff, are you here? I skipped class and–” Feigning enough surprise was tough since even I had unknowingly walked in on him I would have been more aroused than shocked. But he looked stunned enough for the both of us. “Mike what are you doing?” He screamed as he jumped out of bed and scrambled to pull up his pants. “I’m so sorry, dad,” I pleaded. He always bugged me to call him ‘dad’ instead of ‘Jeff’, and I’d do everything I could to close this deal. “I didn’t realize you were…” “Fuck!” He exclaimed. “I thought I was alone and–” “…so big.” “What?” He spat back at me incredulously, standing there with a massive tent in his khakis and his shirt still unbuttoned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. We can just pretend it never happened.” I offered as I started to walk away, holding my breath for his response. “Wait.” I exhaled in relief. “You liked it?” He paused before each word like they sounded wrong. I looked back over my shoulder and said, “I’ve just never seen a guy playing with himself before. It was… exciting.” Jeff stood a little taller and raised his eyebrows. Locking gazes with me, he slowly reached his hand down to his pants and let them drop down around his knees. He gripped his cock back in his thick fingers, slowly pumping his fist over the shaft. I turned back around and watched intently. In a whisper, I said, “That’s so hot, dad.” A glob of precum oozed onto the floor when I called him that. “Then go in for a closer look, son,” he growled, hastening the pace of his strokes as he nodded toward the floor at his feet. I got down on my hands and knees and looked up at his approving smile before I licked up the precum he’d dripped on the wood. When I looked back up at him, his juices on my lips, his face was contorted with the ecstasy of an imminent orgasm. In a strained voice, he grunted, “Fuck yeah, lick up dad’s cum. Watch this, son.” Jeff suddenly took his hand off his tool and planted both arms akimbo at his sides. His rigid cock flexed and swelled before it shot a ball of cum like a cannonball at my face, splattering across my cheek. After that first burst, he spewed a thick stream of a cum down on the floor like an open faucet. His powerful chest and belly heaved with exertion as his body pushed every drop of seed out of him. He wrung the last drops out of his manhood with his hand and chuckled. “Hope that was exciting enough for you.” I nodded, his cum dripping down my chin. “Well?” He asked. “Are you going to lick it up?” He nodded toward the huge pool of cum collected at his feet. He didn’t need to ask me twice. -- source link
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