Sunday Funday With The Man of the House Read online

  Sundae Funday with the Man of the House

  By

  Patience Lee

  Copyright © 2015 by Patience Lee

  Formerly co-authored with Stacey Step

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  NOTE: All characters in this story are consenting adults and are not related by blood.

  This is an erotic short story that features M/F taboo situations.

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  BLURB

  When I'm abandoned at home with just my stepdad, I try my best to lift his spirits now that the woman he loved is gone. However, after finding text messages on his phone, everything I thought I knew changed. Am I ready to be taken hard and without protection, and at the hands of my stepfather?

  Sundae Funday with the Man of the House

  The house was in chaos that warm Spring Tuesday two months ago. It seemed like everything was falling apart around us. I'd came home to find total disarray after a frantic text message from Michael. Michael couldn't believe she was gone. After three years of pretending to love and care, she had packed her bags and left out that morning, right after I'd gotten on the bus. I didn't know what to think, she didn't say a word to me. No note left, no call, no goodbye at all. I had no idea where she was or what I'd do. The woman who raised me was gone and it was just me and my step-daddy, Michael.

  I tried to reassure him throughout that day that things would be alright. I came home and cleaned, even cooked, to try to keep the normalcy of the home together. And slowly, after weeks of pretending nothing was amiss, we got into a pretty good routine just the two of us. We'd come to be friends and not just people living in the same house because they had to. We'd go to a movie or stay in and play video games. It was pretty sweet and I was happy and content.

  And then about two weeks ago I noticed that he was starting to withdraw, retreat back to being a stranger again. I had no idea why. Whatever was troubling him, I wished at night that it would work itself out and he'd be Michael again. Fun and terrific Michael with the barely-gray-at-the-temples hair, the permanent five-o-clock shadow, and those chiseled features. Whatever was bothering him seemed to coincide with an increased volume of text messages coming in and out of his phone.

  I'd just got home and started fixing some of step-daddy Michael's favorites. Soon the whole house would smell like pot roast, potatoes, carrots, and red velvet cupcakes with the special cream cheese frosting that he loved so much. I had rented some of his favorite movies, and cleaned the entire house. I wanted him to relax and kick back and let whatever was bothering him so much just drift away. I wanted to make sure to get everything done ahead of time, so that I could shower and dress better before he got home. As it was, I was standing there in the kitchen in an apron and panties -- I was notorious for being a messy cook and really wanted to not have to do laundry again.

  I had just bent over to get the roast out of the oven when I heard the door close. The front door. The door that had a straight shot view to the kitchen. Whoops.

  I sheepishly raised up, saying "Hey there, didn't think you'd be home this soon. I was getting your dinner fixed and I didn't want to get messy, you know how I am..." I hadn't turned around yet, but wanted to explain. Slowly I just moved my head to see if he was upset. The look on his face wasn't anger or anything of the sort, but I had a hard time placing the emotion. It was something I had never seen in his eyes before.

  "It's ok, Lacey. I appreciate the nice meal. You may want to put some clothes on before dinner, however." he managed, clearing his throat in the middle of it. Clearly I had made him uncomfortable.

  Way to go, dumbass, I thought to myself.

  I put everything on the table, trying not to reach too far across because my apron kept shifting. I had side-boob going everywhere and god forbid I had a nipple slip out in front of step-daddy Michael. Plus my panties kept riding up, making my respectable briefs look more like a thong. I really need to pay more attention to the time of day when I plan out these things, so I wouldn't be caught like this again.

  After the table was properly set and everything looked melt-in-your-mouth wonderful, I left to change clothes and get ready to eat. As I was leaving, he started texting away to someone. Part of me wondered if he was seeing someone so soon after his separation, and part of me wondered why I cared. Whatever and whoever he was doing, he stopped texting as soon as I got back to the table, dressed appropriately in a white button-up top and black jeans.

  "Much better, Lacey, thanks." he said, smiling.

  We passed the rolls and ate, swapping stories of our days with one another, and laughing at random intervals. It was a good meal and as I wiped a bit of gravy from the corners of my mouth I told him about the movies.

  "Got all of them, Michael. Ready for a Battlestar Galactica marathon?"

  He didn't reply, just beamed up with those delicious brown eyes and radiated happiness through me as if it were a laser. I was so pleased to give him a good day, determined that this is what he needed to slip out of that two-week funk he'd plunged into.

  We piled up on the couch and started the shows. I wasn't feeling the storyline, I'm more of a horror gal myself, but it was making him happy so I languished on, trying not to fall asleep. However, there were times when I nearly nodded off. Once I caught myself napping and jerked so harshly back into a sitting position I wrenched something in my neck.

  "Owww, fuck that hurts!", I stammered before catching myself. I tried to rub it, but it wasn't working.

  "Here let me help", Michael replied, as I laid over to have him rub my neck. His strong hands wrapped around my neck and massaged, tenderly at first, a little rougher later. Between those hands working out that tired, sore muscle and the yawn-fest of shows, I was a goner. I moaned before I could stop myself, it was just feeling too good. Michael, thankfully, didn't respond. He must have been deep into the show. I sat there, shifting to where his hands were not only on my neck but my shoulders. Working around, one hand on my throat holding me while the other worked my shoulder blades, my face in his lap facing his taunt belly. The more he rubbed, the more I started to drift. It was then I felt what seemed like a twitch under my cheek.

  Did step-dad's cock just twitch on my face?, I wondered. Nah, couldn't be. I was clearly more asleep than I thought.

  "I'm going to go ahead and turn in, I'm sorry I'm so tired and won't be able to finish the shows with you", I told him, raising up off him.

  "It's fine, little one, go ahead. We'll go for ice cream tomorrow or something."

  As I made my way down the hall, I could hear him on the phone texting away again. I had to get hold of that phone and see just who he was talking to, and what he was saying.

  The next day I awoke feeling fabulous. Made some toast. Threw on some sweatpants and tee, and proceeded to lounge about. I was just fixing to settle in to play some Call of Duty when I spotted it there on the side table. Michael's phone. I was two swipes away from seeing what he's b
een doing. While it felt wrong to do so, I had to know what was going on with him lately.

  Swipe.

  Swipe.

  It was messages back and forth to someone named David. I had no clue who David was but read the exchange with wonder:

  David: So, what's going on over there now?

  Michael: You're not going to believe it. She's damn near naked making me dinner. I shit you not.

  David: Hot Damn Mike, you've hit the pussy jackpot over there. Cold frigid wife ditches you with a kid that's hot as hell!

  Michael: I know, I know. It just still feels wrong, you know?

  David: I know, but she's not related. You need to nail that fine untouched ass before some snot-nosed punk does.

  Then

  David: Well? What's going on over there? Boning her yet?

  Michael: She couldn't finish the show. She's napping in my lap while I rub her neck.

  David: Oh so close, eh?

  Michael: Makes my dick twitch just seeing her mouth that close, David. I don't think I can take much more of this.

  And that was it. I didn't know what to think for a few moments. Here was the man that virtually had been my father for the past few years talking about me being hot. Discussing the "pussy jackpot" and how his dick twitches thinking of my mouth next to his cock. I wanted to be upset. I wanted to be shocked and disgusted.

  I was more turned on than I had ever been in my life.

  I heard him get out of the shower so I put the phone back in the same spot I found it and went to the opposite couch and pretended to read.

  "Honey have you seen my...oh nevermind there it is" as he picked it up and went on throughout the house doing his morning routine texting away as I was left to wonder what he was telling David now.

  That afternoon after lunch was cleared, he wanted to let me know he hadn't forgot about the ice cream.

  "Go put on some clothes and we'll hit the Sundae Factory and split one of those monster 20 scoop sundaes", he said.

  "Will do, give me a sec", I said with a grin. I loved knowing things he didn't think I knew. I could tease and torment him a little, and he'd never even realize it.

  I came out of my room in knee high boots, thigh high socks, short plaid mini skirt, and a white tee. Let the games begin.

  "Ready!" I yelled, grabbing my purse and heading out the door. I could already see Michael adjusting himself as he grabbed his keys.

  I bent over and threw my stuff in the back seat of the car, making sure Michael saw that I was wearing a thong. My asscheeks proudly on display until he got to the driver's side, then I sat down. The uncomfortable look on his face was priceless, daring me to keep pushing the envelope.

  We arrived outside the Sundae Factory and had to wait briefly outside while they got us a table, Michael texting away again. Finally after about ten minutes, we were shown to our booth and he put away his cell phone. It was time to put the plan into action.

  We sat together and ordered the mother of all sundaes as I launched into a spirited conversation about whatever I could think about. My hands gestured wildly, resting on his thigh, his arm, everything. Hair flips. I realized the subtle nature wasn't working about the time the sundae was brought to our table. Phase two implemented. I proceed to drop a spoon of ice cream and hot fudge onto my thigh as I shriek. Michael looks over and, second nature and unthinking, goes to wipe it away, effectively smearing it on my bare thigh.

  "God I'm such a dirty girl right now, Michael", as I look into his eyes with all the innocence I can muster. I didn't think it worked. He just went back to texting and I went back to eating my sundae. Maybe David was getting a rise out of this, I thought, but it doesn't seem to be working as I hoped.

  Just as we were getting ready to pay the check and leave, I realized I didn't get all the hot fudge off me. I took my fingertip and parted my thighs, rubbing the chocolate off me, all while Michael's eyes burned holes through me. Well that got his attention. Apparently, Michael was a watcher. I could work with this knowledge. My right hand went to hold my skirt up, while my other hand brushed over the sheer thong and rubbed down getting bits of chocolate off me. I looked at Michael, licking my fingertips.

  "Yum", I whisper, "tastes so good, step-daddy" as he adjusted himself trying to get out of the booth.

  Around eight or nine o'clock we decide to settle in for some television. I flip through the channels, find some movie and start popping popcorn for snacks after changing back into sweats and a tee. I lay back on the couch, leaving Michael to sit at the end of the couch, my feet barely touching his leg.

  The popcorn bowl gets lower and lower as the movie progresses. The hero is finally getting the girl, and they're making out in a loft on screen. Clothing slowly gets removed, pieces falling into the hay as their bodies start to meld. She's riding him, her back arched and her nipples hard. I absently move my hand to under my sweats. I may not have had sex, but I'm not innocent. I watch the movie, feeling hot and horny, lightly teasing my clit with the tip of my finger. A sigh escapes me. It is that sigh that causes Michael to look over. He sits, staring, while I rub myself gently, getting myself wetter and slicker with my juices, finally taking my eyes off the television to look over at him.

  I didn't even have to speak before his mouth was on mine.

  He engulfed my mouth, his tongue darting in as I licked his neck and nibbled on his earlobe. My tongue, hot and wet against the curve of his ear, flicking the lobe to trail down the corner of his jawbone.

  "Fuck me slow, step-daddy, because remember...I'm your pussy jackpot."

  Michael's eyes darted up at me, shocked with the realization that I knew. My hands moved to throw my shirt over the couch cushions, as I took his head in my arm and drew his mouth onto my breast.

  "That's it, lick me, bite me, make me scream." as the heat from his mouth set my nipple on fire, rolling it between his incisors. The pale red flush spread across my chest as his hand went down my sweats, fingering me, taking over from where my hand was. I was dripping wet for him, wanting him everywhere. I tried to slide his pants down, but he swatted my hand away. After a few tries, he just took my hand and held it over my head, forcibly restraining me from moving. His lips fluttering everywhere on me, his tongue licking slow trails from my breasts to navel, until finally it flicked over my clit, sending pulses of energy throughout my body. My thighs were twitching from anticipation, and I was panting from want.

  "Please, step-daddy" I manage.

  "Please step-daddy, what?" he growls over me.

  "Please fuck me, hard" as I look into those steely eyes of his. It is then I feel him, his hand fishing out his rigid cock, plunging it deep inside me for the first time. I gasp, feeling a release inside me, as he holds the base and fucks me with it as if it were a toy.

  His rhythm changes, sometimes just teasing the head of his cock in and out of my tight hole, other times plunging the full mass of it in, stretching me. Every time I get just to the edge of cumming, he slows, making me wait. Making me beg for it. He still has me held in one position, using me as I've always wanted. One hand binding my hands above my head, unable to touch him or myself, as his other hand works his massive cock inside me.

  "Please" I mutter again, as he continues to work the tightness that was there, stretching me fuller and fuller, until I'm dripping with need. He unwraps his hand and plunges his entire length inside me, filling me even fuller than before as that hand goes to rub my clit in circles. It proves too much, my thighs give, my lips part in a moan, and I cry out with the force of the orgasm as I feel my body pulse around his cock.

  "Oh god yes, little one" I hear in my ear, as he slams harder into me, over and over. I feel him burst inside me, filling me with his hot white cum. His thick spurts that I can fill splashing inside my young fertile body. Still fucking me as his cum drips out of me, until finally he subsides. His fingers go inside me, grabbing some of the sticky wetness, and brings it to my lips to lick.

  "Soon all your holes will my mind, little one",
he says, as I smile, satisfied. I want nothing more than what he says to become reality, but for tonight, I'm wrapped up in his arms and ready to nap.