Mom's New Boyfriend Ch. 02

Jessie

Sunlight draped through my bedroom, waking me up.

I checked the phone on my time: 07:54, time to get ready for college. I got out of bed and went for the bathroom.

"Susan?" I asked, knocking on her bedroom door, "You okay if I use the shower?"

I heard her rustle around before a groggy, uncertain response returned: "Uh, yeah, sure". It was odd. Susan was usually up by now, chugging down a green smoothie and getting ready to go to the gym, before hopping onto her Gender Studies course online.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I, uh, sorry, I won't see you out today. I'm feeling ill so I'm just going to stay in bed."

"That's okay," I responded, "Feel better soon. Michael's about to take me to college."

Susan could only manage a light groan in response. She must have been really ill. I went into the bathroom, took off my pyjamas and hopped in the shower.

It was the weirdest thing -- even now, in the shower, I could smell Michael cologne. It was like the memory of that smell was making me experience it again. It wasn't bad. It really wasn't bad.

As I washed myself, I looked over at the mirror and saw myself naked. You could honestly forget Susan and I were sisters. She had a big ass and big breasts, I didn't. She was tall, I was short. She was blonde, I died my hair blue. She wore small top crops with a hole in the middle to show off her cleavage, I wore big shirts with anime characters on them. It was sad to realise, growing up, that the men would always be chasing Susan. I took a deep breath.

Something about the smell made me fixate on my body. I don't know why but I felt it pulling me towards thoughts of my butt, skinny yet perky. I was still a virgin but I had been propositioned a few times, mostly by fellow nerdy guys who thought I'd want to have sex with them just because they knew who Ahsoka Tano or Commander Tuvok were. I wouldn't have even minded having casual sex with my guy friends. They were sweet, if a bit hopeless, but the idea of losing my virginity, of someone seeing my naked body, terrified me.

"You should do it with someone who you really like," Susan had once told me after I confided my shyness with her, "Never let a guy pressure you into doing anything before you're ready."

I dried myself and raced back to my bedroom in nothing but a towel. My chest was out and I was quick, just to make sure I wasn't seen naked my Susan or Michael.

Weirdly, as I thought about quickly trying to avoid him seeing me naked, a few butterflies appeared in my stomach, like I had suddenly got excited about something, just for a split second. Michael seeing me without clothes on? Ew, Jesus. I'd rather be seen naked by the guy from High School who just sat in the corner of home ec class dribbling down his shirt because he smoked too much pot. Besides, I was much more into women than men. Women look after themselves. Men just think they can walk around like they own the place and don't do anything to make themselves look good. Michael was a great example. Here he was, living with us rent free while Mom was away on her business trip, and all he was doing to compensate was driving me to college.

I got dressed up and went downstairs. The living room door was open and I walked in.

Michael was sat there, on the sofa, watching TV. He was wearing a shirt that was too tight, revealing his fat rolls. He was unshaved and dirty. It didn't even look like he'd showered or washed, leaning forward and scratching his ass as if I wasn't here. In his hand he was holding onto a beer can. What a lowlife.

"You ready?" he asked, still looking at the TV.

"Yeah," I said flatly, not even trying to hide my annoyance. He stood up and walked over to the front door, taking out his car keys.

"Oh," he said, fumbling around in the pocket of his jacket, "Before we go..."

He took out his cologne and sprayed himself a few times, the smell immediately starting to fill the room. It was way more than he had sprayed yesterday. To my surprise, it smelled a lot better than I remembered. There was something about it. It was impossible to put into words, truly.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"What?"

"The smell," he said, "Do you like it?"

"I mean, I guess."

"You were just standing there with your eyes closed."

As I took stock of what he had just said, I realised he was right. I was just standing there, silently, my eyes closed, taking in as much as possible. It really was amazing. I couldn't get enough of it. It felt like comfort, like I was exactly where I needed to be.

"Uh, yeah. It's pretty good."

Michael smiled for some reason. It was a really creepy, luring smile. He just stood there for a while, looking at me. I could see him moving his hand so I looked down and saw him touching the crotch of his jeans, where his penis was. I took another deep breath.

You know, I should have said something. It was odd that he appeared to be readjusting his crotch while looking at me like that, but it really didn't bother me. He was probably just trying to get comfortable. Besides, he was the one doing the favour. It was really nice of him to drive me to college. He didn't have to do that, as the guest in our home. It was our job to make him feel welcome. I felt a warmth towards him. I didn't really matter that he didn't have a job or that he was a bit gross sometimes.

"I can take you to buy it," he responded, still trying to get comfortable in his downstairs area, smiling at me, almost charmingly, "We can go out shopping, just me and you. Make it a daughter-dad bonding experience."

I blinked twice in shock.

"Daughter-dad bonding experience?" I asked, chuckling. I must have misheard him. "You're not my dad and I'm definitely not your daughter." I took a deep breath of that cologne. It was so good. I couldn't wait to go to college with that smell on me. I must have smelt so good as well.

I'm sure he was joking about that. Daughter-dad, what a lark. He was so funny. I could see what Mom saw in him. It's like he had a clever remark for everything, like Tony Stark or Jack Sparrow. I always had such a crush on Johnny Depp. Michael was just like him.

"I mean it," he said, moving closer to me, "I consider you and Susan my daughters now. I want you to look at me like a father."

The smell of the cologne was more and more pungent the closer he got. It was almost like I wanted him to be nearer me, just so I could smell it, smell him. You know, he was right. In a way he was a father to us. We didn't have a father around at the moment and, if he married Mom, he would be our step-dad. It was so comforting, the thought of a man in our life. I liked that Susan, Mom and I were a trio of girls, taking on the world together or, as Susan would put it, "challenging patriarchal gender norms". But it just felt right, like Michael was a missing jigsaw puzzle piece slotted just in the right place.

"Let's go," he said, taking my hand into his and walking us out of the house.

As we were walking to the car, I suddenly realised that we were holding hands. It was fine, totally fine. It felt right. Almost a little bit more than fine. Like, it felt good. But maybe even just a tiny bit more than good. Exciting. That's the word. It was exciting. I never got that experience with my real dad of holding hands, him driving me to school, him nurturing me, him telling me what to do. The command that Michael had, the confidence to hold the hand of the daughter of the woman he was dating, it was impressive. I took another deep breath, hoping to get some fresh air but, really, just getting more of Michael's cologne.

I was so impressed by Michael. Doing all this, for Susan and I. I remembered what I thought, about the idea of Michael and Mom marrying. I actually kinda hoped that that would happen. Then we'd get to see him more and he could drive me to college again. Just me and Michael, alone in his car. I swirled my thumb on his hand, like a girl smitten with their boyfriend, before he let go of me so I could hop in. He got into the driver's seat and pulled off the road.

His car was filthy. There were empty cans and bottles of alcohol littering the floor and his backseats were crammed full of shit he clearly hadn't moved in a while. It was exactly the conditions they warn you about in high school: the kind of car you never want to find yourself in. Michael had been drinking and he couldn't see out of the back window. As I looked around, I got an even greater whiff at his cologne. We were in this cramped death-trap together, so close to each other, and he smelled so good.

I thought about how dangerous this was. He could crash and hurt someone but... wasn't that just a bit exciting? The danger of it. My nerd guy friends had driven me around before and they were so slow, so cautious. And that's great! Safety first. You know, though, it's just different with Michael. He's not like boys my age. Maybe it's because he's older. He's got more experience, knows what he's doing.

"Tell me about how much sex you're having," Michael suddenly said as I was looking up at him.

A jolt of excitement pulsed through me. Why did he want to know about my sex life? I thought back to him stroking his cock while he looked at me. Maybe he wasn't just trying to get comfortable. I giggled and blushed at the embarrassment of it. A typical dad question.

"I mean, you know..." I said, trailing off as I lowered my head to hide my rosy cheeks.

"Tell me right now."

It was so defiant, so without recourse. He knows that it's inappropriate to ask but he's going to ask anyway. If he was like this with Mom, I can really understand why she got excited talking about their sex life. If you're into that kinda thing.

"I, uh, well, I haven't actually... well... I haven't had sex yet."

His eyebrows perked up.

"You're a virgin?", he asked, turning to face me.

"Is that bad?" I asked, almost whimpering, "Susan said I should wait for the right person."

He pulled up his car. I looked out the window. We were here, at college, already. It felt like seconds since we were at home. A part of me was disappointed. I had really been enjoying my conversation with Michael, as short as it was.

Suddenly, I felt his hand press down on my leg. It was really close to my skirt. I suddenly realised just how short it was. He was really quite close to my vagina. If a friend of mine had done that unprovoked, I would have slapped then and reported them to the college. But it was nice to feel that pressure there, that comfort. He was a father figure to me, after all.

"I'm going to teach you about sex," he said, "As my daughter, I need to teach you the things you need to do to feel good." He almost looked excited. I smiled, immediately turning on to the idea. I had heard so much about sex from Susan but I needed a man's perspective to get both sides. As someone attracted to men and women, it would probably help to understand what it was like for a man, especially someone as clearly masculine as Michael.

"You know, I think that's a really good idea," I responded, biting my lip a little bit, "I bet you've had lots of sex before. You seem so experienced."

His grip tightened on my leg. It was so right. In that moment, I just wanted him to stay that close to me. I meant what I said. No, he wasn't that attractive conventionally and he wasn't my type. But I imagine so many women would feel grateful to have sex with Michael. Even I started to feel a little bit attracted to him, knowing how close to my vagina his hands were. It wasn't Michael, it was just that closeness, that naughtiness.

"We'll start when I pick you up today."

"Okay, sounds good!" I said, opening up the door and preparing to go to college, "Thank you so much! I really, really appreciate."

I was about to get out before he moved his hand from my leg to my shoulder.

"One more thing," he said, "Call me dad from now on."

"Of course!", I replied, my heart melting at the thought as I kissed his cheek and got out of the car, "See you later, dad!"

Susan

"Blow me, baby girl", Michael said, standing above me as I laid on my hands and knees below him. His cock was out in front of me, hard, massive. I was so wet, so ready to do anything he wanted, anything he demanded. I lightly caressed his balls with my hands, to which he responded with a cathartic groan.

"Does that... feel good, daddy?" I asked, eager to please Michael. He was my man. As his woman, I was here to make him feel good. My skin was on fire as I felt the tassels of his pubic hair.

"Don't get too confident, bitch. You're nothing," he responded. God, he was such an asshole. My stomach set on fire as he said that. He treated me like dirt but, compared to him, I was. I was here just for him. I smirked up at him. He knew I loved it. Tom would never touch me again, that fucking loser who could never make me feel like this. Tom was just a nice guy. Michael was such an asshole.

He grabbed my hair and dragged my mouth over the head of his penis. I opened wide, ready to take him, have the privileged to make such an alpha male cum and -

I woke up, sitting, my mouth wide open. I looked around. I was still in bed, naked from... last night.

Oh my God. Last night.

It was like a horrible dream. A part of me wanted it to just be dream. I saw my Mom's boyfriend jerking off -- and he was jerking off thinking about me. Was this his plan? To date an older woman with a daughter and fuck them? How did he know that I'd be so desperate for him?

I laid back down and curled up, crying. He had destroyed all my values, my worth as a woman. I was a hypocrite, telling all those men and women that we are independent, that we don't need to spend our lives servicing men, and here I was, allowing him to walk all over me. And despite it all, despite practically cheating on my wonderful, kind boyfriend, despite seeing my Mom's boyfriend jerking off thinking about me, I was soaking wet. My clit was engorged and throbbing thinking about him. I hated myself for wanting it.

I tried to resist touching myself, thinking of my dream, wishing deeply that it was real. That he was here, in front of me, right now, forcing my mouth over his...

I grabbed my vibrator from my bedside cabinet. One more time. I'll wank off to the thought of Michael one more time. He's not even here right now, he's probably downstairs watching TV or something. "He's just a creep," I forced myself to remember, "You didn't feel this way when you met him. He was gross and ugly". This is a passing crush. It happens. I just like the idea of him, the idea of someone owning. It's not about Michael. Tom and I can do things like that. He's clearly into it. He doesn't even have that small a penis. It's just smaller than Michael. Thinking about Michael's cock took me back to the smell of his cologne and I instantly felt a rush of excitement take over. It must be Pavlovian conditioning. I just associate that smell with the thought of Michael.

Michael. He was so fucking hot. I kept trying to picture him as ugly but I couldn't. His hairy gut, likely developed after years of bad eating and beer, drove me insane where before I would have considered it unattractve. Really, it was a sign he was a man. A real man. Tom was so skinny. I used to like the idea of skinny guys but how was someone that lanky supposed to treat me right in bed? If Michael was over me right now, I'd feel his gut on me, and his hair, his manly hair. I found my clit and kicked off the bedsheets. My tears of sadness were replaced by the O shape my mouth was making, and my desperate, wild smile, as I neared orgasm. I tried to keep my groans as quiet as possible. Jessie would be up soon.

I couldn't stop thinking about that dream. It was my dream, in more senses than one. My mouth watered at the prospect of sucking him off, feeling his warm cum down my throat, being owned, being treated like his pet, Michael, my master, my-

Even now, the word was still difficult for me to think, let alone say. I should hate the idea of power dynamics. It should do nothing but disgust me. And the parental undertones of *groan* uhh, God, 'that' word. But nothing else surmised it more, surmised the pull he had on me. He wasn't just a sex machine capable of destroying my body. He was my owner, my protector. My ass was his. My breasts were his. My pussy was his.

Okay, I'll think about it. Only think about it. Don't say it. Don't let the words escape. Don't let it be real.

I was so close. If Michael came in right now, I'd let him fuck me. I wouldn't be able to resist. He would tear me apart like his little girl, like the little girl he was here to protect, to own, to use.

"Daddy," I whispered as quietly as possible, picturing Michael fucking me as I reached my earth-shattering orgasm.

"Susan?" a voice shouted outside my door. I was so lost in my fantasy that, for a second, I thought it was Michael. I was so ready to let him pin me down on my bed that my heart almost jumped out of my chest. But it wasn't Michael. It was Jessie.

In shame and fear, I turned off my vibrator and put my bedsheets back on.

"You okay if I use the shower?" she continued.

I tried to find my footing and keep calm, trying to control my breathing like I would after an intense jog. I was right on the edge. If anything even remotely glided across my clit, I would explode.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"You okay?" she asked, as I quickly fumbled around in my head for an excuse, trying to hold off from cumming. I tried to get the picture of Michael out of my head. Think of anything else, anything other than him. Puppies. Dandelions. Anything.

"Yeah. I, uh, sorry, I won't see you out today. I'm feeling ill so I'm just going to stay in bed."

So close. I was so close. I clenched my teeth together. Don't think about him. Just for one second, don't think about him.

"That's okay," she continued, "Feel better soon. Michael's about to take me to college."

Michael! Daddy! Take me, please, take me!

I put my hand over my mouth as my pussy clamped down for the biggest orgasm of my life, harder even than last night, hornier, more submissive. I was on fire, curling my toes and stretching on my bed. It took every fibre of my being not to scream his name. I grasped on my left boob, hard, so hard that my fingernails were leaving imprints on my skin.

There's no way that Jessie didn't hear my groans but, mercifully, she went into the bathroom and left me to come down from my orgasm.

I couldn't let Jessie see me like this. I certainly couldn't let Michael see me like this. He told me before that the only way I'd get to fuck him would be if I beg. I had managed to hold back last night, to stop myself from crawling towards him and let him use me like his personal fucktoy, but only just. If he walked in right now, I'd beg. I'd cry. I'd show him everything, ride him, cater to his sick fantasies. I would have to avoid him until Mom got back.

I got up and locked my bedroom door, throwing on yesterday's clothes -- except for my panties, which I threw in my laundry basket. After last night, they needed a good wash. My clothes still smelled like Michael's cologne, which bought back the memories of last night and that empty, desperate feeling in my stomach, the need to be filled. I heard the door slam shut and looked outside, watching as Michael and Jessie walked to the car together. Michael's pants weren't tightened properly to his waist so I could see his butt crack. I bit my lower lip, letting out a light purr. His back was so hairy. I could picture myself holding onto his back and digging my nails into it as he ravaged me, a daddy using his little girl for his pleasure. Then I noticed he was holding Jessie's hands.

Of all the disgusting thoughts about Michael that had turned me on since he started to take care of us, I felt the guiltiest about this. The wash of excitement I felt seeing him practically drag my little sister around was intoxicating. I put my fingers down my panties just to check -- soaking. As I saw them drive away, I intuitively started to circle my clit again. Seeing them together, seeing him direct her, it all just felt... right. He was so big compared to Jessie and I. It made perfect sense for him to be in charge of us. And Jesus, did it feel good for him to be in charge. I wondered if Jessie felt the same way about him as I did. She was always much more reluctant to talk about sex than me. I'd always try to find out who she had a crush on.