Stepbrother Obsessed

by Devon Hartford

  Those frickin’ eyes…

  They make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

  He continues, “When you stripped down to your bikini in the parking lot at Blazing Waters, I literally flipped.”

  “Weren’t you staring at Rox’s chest? I know I was.”

  He frowns, “Are you kidding? When I got a good look at you in your bikini, I don’t know, every cell in my body literally screamed, ‘THIS ONE!! THIS IS THE BODY YOU’VE DREAMT ABOUT SINCE PUBERTY!’” He chuckles to himself. “En serio.”

  “No way.”

  He nods, “I can’t explain it, Cielo. But that’s exactly what happened. Maybe it’s some genetic thing. I have no idea. But there was no denying it.”

  After a compliment like that, I think I can manage to at least take my shirt off. I grab the hem. “You sure you want to see them? You won’t be disappointed?”

  “Nope. I already know they’re perfect.”

  I lift my shirt over my head and toss it across the room. Despite my moment of confidence and his reassurances, I instinctively fold my hands over my chest, hiding my disheveled bra and half-exposed breasts. My bra hangs at an angle, one strap down by my elbow, the other clenched against my arm pit. Suddenly, I’m not in any hurry to go completely topless. Without the extra padding of my bra, I have almost nothing to show. So I’m loathe to take it off and reveal the truth.

  “Do you want to leave your bra on?” he asks gently, sensing my distress.

  “I don’t know, maybe?”

  “It’s up to you Cielo. You can leave it on if you’ll be more comfortable.” He means it.

  His willingness to accept me for who I am and take my needs into consideration has a powerful effect on me. Feeling suddenly adventurous, I relax my arms and peel my bra off. Then I stretch it like a slingshot and fire it across the room, like I’m shooting an arrow of insecurity way out into space, never to be seen again. Bye, bye, insecurity! I grin at Dante. I also clasp my hands in my lap and squeeze my arms together, which sort of makes my breasts look bigger, but it’s not like they go up an entire cup size. I smile down at them, “What do you think?”

  When I don’t hear an answer, I look up to see what’s wrong.

  Dante is staring at my chest. I mean staring. Gawking, his jaw slack.

  “Fuck,” he gasps. “Why are they so perfect?!” He looks up and locks eyes with me. “They’re perfect, Cielo. Fucking perfect! I don’t get it. They’re just perfect! These are them, these are the breasts I dream about!” He’s 100% serious. It’s written all over his face.

  A smile spreads across mine.

  No guy has lost his marbles looking at my breasts. Not once. The few guys who have seen them never said anything about them. Sure, they felt me up, but it wasn’t like they spent a lot of time on my breasts. This is the opposite of that feeling.

  I launch myself at Dante, aiming my mouth at his and pushing him down on the bed. Our tongues twist and our lips writhe. His hands grab my breasts, squeezing what little there is, massaging them and pinching the nipples. Luke never did anything to my breasts, not after the very beginning. It’s like he forgot about them. And I forgot how sensitive they were. My nipples explode with pleasure. Dante slides me upward, breaking our kiss so that his mouth can claim my breasts. His tongue spins around one nipple, then the other, sending waves spiraling through my ribcage.

  I feel so alive it’s ridiculous.

  I start breathing hard as one of his hands squeezes my ass and the other works between my legs, slipping right inside me. I’m still so wet it goes in easy. I pump my hips against his finger, my breasts flickering with intense pleasure.

  I come hard, riding his hand while his tongue tickles one of my nipples.

  oOoOoOo + O+O+O+O

  “When is it going to be your turn?” I chuckle breathlessly, now lying beside him on the bed.

  “Whenever you want. Or we can wait.”

  I had to roll off of him a moment ago, as soon as my orgasm passed, because I realized his hard cock was throbbing like four inches away from my core. It was just too much, too soon. I’m not quite ready to go all the way. Plus, I want to focus on him for once. He has been so generous. I grin, “No, waiting wouldn’t be fair. What if the world ends and I never get to make you come?”

  He snorts, “I’m not worried about that.”

  “You’re never worried about anything, are you?”

  “Not really,” he smiles.

  “Well, juuuust in case the world ends in an hour,” I say it in a comical high pitched voice, “Maybe I oughta do this…” I reach down and start pumping him gently.

  “Mmmm, that’ll work.”

  We start to kiss again and he moans into my mouth. That’s good. But the truth is, he really is big, and my hands aren’t exactly large. I need to use two hands, which is really awkward lying down. I push myself until I’m sitting on my heels. “Can we sit up? So I can get a better angle?”

  “If you want. But we don’t have to, Cielo. I’m happy just kissing you and chilling like this.”

  “Yeah, but are you enjoying my handy?” Although I’m still pumping, it doesn’t seem to be doing much. “I feel like I could be doing it better.” My insecurities about my hand job tactics come rushing back.

  “You’re doing good, Cielo.”

  Good is not what I was aiming for. Everything he did to me already belongs in the Guinness Book of World Sex Records or whatever. I slump my shoulders and sigh, hanging my head. My loose hair falls in my face and I swipe a lock behind my ear. “You don’t get it. I suck in the bedroom, okay?” It’s ultra embarrassing to admit.

  He pushes more of my bangs out of my face. “Cielo, it doesn’t matter. You can learn. I’ll show you. Nobody starts out an awesome lover. You have to learn things. I’m not going to bolt because you’re not a walking Kama Sutra.”

  I giggle, picturing a book with arms and legs walking across a room. “Are you sure?”

  “Yup.” He says it with such confidence, I can’t help but believe him.

  “So, what do I do?”

  He scoots himself up to my headboard and kicks off his jeans until he’s completely naked. His arm muscles tense and bulge. The flame tattoos on his tanned forearms flicker like they’re actually on fire. His body is mesmerizing, that’s all there is to it. The other thing that’s mesmerizing is his huge cock that lays across his lap at an angle.

  “First,” he says, “Get comfortable. Wrap your legs around me.”

  I climb over his knee and plant my butt between his legs. My nude wet crotch is inches from his. We’re both completely naked. It would be so easy to lift myself up and slide down onto his hot rod. So easy. But I’m not quite ready for that yet. I hook my heels around his waist and grab his dick. “Okay, now what?”

  “I like to start with the balls.”

  “Huh?”

  “You want to wake those guys up. Let them know they’ll be needed later.”

  “Whaaaat?” I sing.

  “Please. Sex is all about the balls at the end of the day, right?”

  I wrinkle my nose, “I thought it was about the penis or whatever.”

  “Naw, the penis is just the balls’ butler. He does all the work, but the balls pay the bills. They don’t call them the family jewels for nothing.”

  “Okay,” I laugh, “That is so stupid.”

  He grins. “And yet so true.”

  “Yeah, but isn’t the penis the one who has all the fun and does all the work?”

  “What can I say? Balls are lazy fuckers,” he winks. “But they still want some love.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Just play with them. But be gentle. A little goes a long way.”

  “I know,” I grouse. I reach between his legs and cup them gently with one hand. They’re so smooth. He must manscape because they’re pretty much hairless. I swirl my fingers around them, enjoying their weight. “What would you do if I squeezed them really hard?” I can’t help it, I feel all-p
owerful with them in my hand. I wink wickedly.

  “They’d probably pop like grapes.”

  “Ew! Let’s not do that.”

  “No, let’s not.”

  “So, why am I doing this again?”

  “Because balls aren’t just lazy. They’re also insecure and want attention too. They need to feel just as important as the cock.”

  I shake my head and laugh, “Okay, whatever. Can I use my hand now? I mean, on your penis or whatever?”

  “Go for it.”

  “What do I do with the head?” At the moment, it’s dry. “What happened to the pre-cum?”

  “Did you notice the wet circle on my jeans? I’ve been pre-cuming the whole time I was going down on you. The jeans soaked it all up. For the moment, anyway.” He arches an eyebrow. “I’ve got plenty more.”

  “How do I make it come out? The pre-cum, I mean? Do I have to talk to the balls?” I jiggle them in my hand. “Wake up, lazy balls! The butler bone needs your help!” I giggle and grin at him. “Sorry, I’m being stupid.”

  Dante smiles, “It’s totally fine. Sex is ridiculous when you think about it. All that grunting. You’d think you were pushing a boulder up a mountain from all the effort that goes into it. But it’s just an ounce of fluid traveling a few inches.”

  “Ha!” I laugh, “Yeah.” Dante is doing an incredible job of setting me at ease. Luke and I never talked in the bedroom. We were pretty much silent. It always felt so separated somehow. This is much better.

  “If you want some lubricant now, you can spit on the head.”

  “Ew!”

  He smirks, “It’s not like I’m asking you to hock a loogie on me. Just work up some saliva and let it drizzle on the head.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “What do you think happens when a woman gives head? Spit goes everywhere. It’s the same thing.”

  “Oh, duh. Okay.” I work up some saliva and purse my lips. It dribbles on his lap. “Whoops! Sorry.” I wipe it away with my fingers.

  “It’s okay. Try again.”

  I do, and this time my saliva finds the bull’s eye. Or should I say, ball’s eye. I laugh to myself.

  “What?”

  “I just hit your ball’s eye.”

  He chuckles, “Yeah. Isn’t there some saying like, ‘here’s spit in your eye’?”

  “I think it’s mud, but same difference.” This is awesome. I’m having fun. No nervousness. Sex should always be this easy. Why isn’t it? Who knows. “What do I do now?”

  “Smear that spit around. And maybe work the shaft with your other hand.”

  “Won’t the balls get lonely?”

  “They have each other. They’re never lonely.”

  I shake my head and grin, “You are such a dork.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No. Just don’t make anymore ball jokes. I need to concentrate.” I slowly work my spit around on the head with my fingers.

  “Mmmm,” he moans instantly. “That’s good…” he murmurs.

  I pump the shaft a few times while massaging the head. Why didn’t I think of this? I add more spit and work it down the shaft until both hands are slipping and sliding all over it. Oh, I get it. No wonder women get so wet during sex. Duh. I keep at it and the next thing I know, his eyes are rolled up into his head and he’s sinking into the bed like his entire body is melting. “How’s that?”

  “Keep doing that,” he moans. “Fuck, keep doing that.”

  And like that, I go from being a frightened newbie to feeling like maybe I’m not so bad in the bedroom. With new confidence, I work my hand along his length, thrilling in the feel of it, sliding and squeezing and releasing. My other hand teases the bulging head, which seems to be getting harder. In fact, he’s thicker too. There’s no doubt he’s turned on now.

  “Fuck,” he hisses. “Yeah…” His head lolls against his shoulders, his face tightens and he releases a strained, “Ahhhh…”

  Wow. I like this. Every time I knead the head, closing my fingers around him and pulling upward, his whole body shivers and his pelvis spasms on the bed. I remember him making my body do this earlier. It’s fun being in the driver’s seat. I’m learning all kinds of things today. My hands are nearly dry, so I add more spit. This process continues for a long time. I make him moan and shake, adding more spit which makes him moan again. I absently wonder if I’m going to need a drink of water before he finishes, otherwise I might run out of spit.

  I also realize I’m getting turned on again. Watching him lose himself to my touch is seriously hot. His muscled body shakes. Because of me. His gorgeous face strains with ecstasy, all because of me. I could do this forever.

  But I don’t think I’ll have to. Each time I slide my circled fingers down his head and shaft, he groans louder. His knuckles are white, fisting into my sheets.

  “Cielo…” he moans.

  Slide.

  “Cielo!”

  Sliiiiiiide.

  His whole body tenses.

  “Cielo!” he grunts.

  Sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiide.

  His cock trembles in my hands, hard, hot, dark red, bulging, swollen. His mouth opens in a silent scream.

  Sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide.

  “CIELO!!!” Dante’s back arches and his butt lifts up off the bed, his arms tensing, supporting his weight. His cock is inches from my face.

  I marvel at it, watch the head swell like it’s going to burst…

  WHIR!

  The garage door opener! Someone is home!

  Shit!

  Dante is about to come!

  I can’t stop now! It might kill him! Or something really bad!

  SLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDDDDDEEEEE.

  POP!

  A stream of semen shoots up into the air, arcing back and literally flying over Dante’s shoulder, hitting the wall above my bed.

  Splat!

  Before I can even think about it, he’s fountaining cum out of his cock. Luckily, only the first spurt missiled into the air. But the rest of them are flooding out of him. There’s a ton of cum covering my hand and dripping down the back and puddling in his lap.

  Thud.

  The door between the garage and the house closing! Someone’s in the house! Time to hurry this up!

  Someone tell the balls enough is enough!

  The butler is done!

  Time to clean this place up!

  Chapter 12

  Dante sits up, suddenly alert, “Who’s here?” he hisses.

  “I don’t know! Your mom or my dad!”

  His eyes bulge. “We gotta clean up. Quick.” He scrambles past me on the bed and grabs for his jeans.

  “You’re dripping!” There’s a glistening hand-sized smear of cum on my pillow. Ew. That doesn’t look good.

  “Sorry,” he says, frantically jamming his legs into his jeans.

  What do I do with my pillow? Turn it over. Duh. Then I remember the splotch of cum on my wall. I grab the pillow and use the corner to wipe the splotch. A droplet of cum from the pillow falls behind my headboard. Shit! I peer down and see a big white drop on the carpet. Well, no one’s gonna notice it back there. At least the wall stain is mostly gone, or no more than a damp smear. If anybody asks, it’s glue. No, nail polish. That makes sense. Somehow. I turn my pillow back over, wet side down, and drop it onto the bed. I’ll be washing my sheets this evening. Good thing Catarina doesn’t have time for laundry and I do it for her. Er, that might be too obvious. It’ll have to wait till the weekend so no one asks questions. Hopefully, dried cum comes out easily in the wash.

  Footsteps coming up the stairs. That doesn’t sound like Catarina.

  “It’s my dad!” I hiss. “Get out of here! He’ll kill you if he finds you in here!” My door is currently closed. But not locked. Remember? No locks allowed. If dad were to open the door and see inside, he would go ballistic. There’s no way this looks good.

  Dante jumps off the bed and grabs his shirt and boots off the floor.

  Fo
otsteps in the upstairs hallway, coming toward my room.

  “Too late!” I whisper. “In the closet!”

  Dante’s eyes flash and he pads naked across the carpet and squeezes between the clothes on the hangers, then faces me. “Wait! You—”

  There’s no more time. I slide the mirrored doors shut in his face. That was close.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  “Skye?” It’s Dad.

  I whip my head around the room one last time, making sure I didn’t miss anything, obvi. Dante’s clothes are out of sight. Check. Cum stained pillow face down, check. Cum stain on the wall behind my bed, mostly invisible. Check. I think that’s it.

  And that’s when I notice myself in the mirrored closet door.

  Totally. Naked.

  Dad knows I’m not a nudist, so this will not look good!

  “Just a second!” I spin around frantically, looking for my clothes. I grab my shorts, which somehow ended up on top of my desk, and shake my legs into them. Where’s my shirt?! Shit! I don’t even worry about my bra.

  “Skye?”

  “Hold on! I’m changing!”

  “Okay.”

  Guilt!

  Where the F is my shirt! I don’t have time to search for it. I yank my dresser open and the shirt drawer is empty! F BOMB! My hamper is inside my closet. I don’t have a choice. I open the door quietly and Dante’s arm juts out holding a blouse. One of the nice ones I wear when I have to get dressed up. A blouse? With shorts? I don’t have time to worry about it. I jam my arms into it and button it up. When I get to the bottom, there’s an extra button! Crap! I missed the top button hole!

  “Skye?”

  No time to fix it. I lunge toward my door and notice my bra dangling from my bookcase on my desk. I hurl it behind the bed and whip the door open just enough to stick my head through, breathless. “Hey, Dad!”

  “Are you okay?” he asks, eyes narrowed. Looking over my shoulder, he searches the room behind me. “Is someone here?”

  “Nope! Just me! What are you doing home so early?” Do I sound nervous? Understatement.

  Still looking around my room, Dad says absently, “I thought I’d surprise Catarina. I’ve been coming home late a lot lately. So I thought I’d take her out for dinner and drinks.” He’s obviously paying more attention to my room than what he’s saying. He’s totally on to me.