“Honey, wake up, it's Christmas morning. Santa brought you something,” mom says with a melody in her voice just as something drops at the footer of my bed. She closes the door behind her and I come around slowly, Santa and mentions of gifts keeping me from snoozing. I keep my eyes closed though, stretching my arms and my legs, my left foot hitting against the present Santa has brought me. I look to find a box wrapped in shiny blue paper that I rip off immediately to find a neatly folded flannel pajama that she clearly expects me to wear. I roll my eyes but oblige, swinging my feet off to the edge of my bed to put them on. I know that I look pathetic so I avoid the mirror.
Mom has gone through a lot of trouble this year to decorate and impress her new boyfriend for Christmas, and I don’t need any side eyes from her or conversation about my attitude today. Besides, she has been a lot more present lately and fun to be around, which I surprise myself admitting. I haven’t actually stopped to think about it until now, and maybe it‘s the holiday spirit influencing my humor, but I started to enjoy her company and I am glad to be spending a traditional Christmas at home with her this year.
I make my way downstairs and find her in the living room lounging on the couch with Andrea, wearing his and hers matching silk pajamas. They look ridiculous and I make with minimal effort to hide my contentment. Andrea notices and does what he can to hide his humiliation and keep cool like he always does, but nothing can save him now. I am seeing him, probably for the first time, uncomfortable in his own skin. It adds a new layer to his character: A vulnerable angle, one that stirs me a little.
My mother, being the self-centered woman that she is, doesn’t notice or stop with whatever she is babbling about. She’s telling the story about the last time that we spent Christmas at her sister’s house and how she had spilled red wine all over her blouse. Nothing can sway her from getting to the point of her story, nudging Andrea for his attention every time he looks away.
She is annoyingly excited this morning. Her voice is high pitched and she barely takes the time to pause and breathe between sentences. Mom is sitting down but could be sprinting off in an instant. “Put your phone on silent, honey.” She says sharply to me, deviating only briefly from her important dialogue when my phone alert interrupts her at the culmination of her anecdote. I turn the volume down to vibrate instead, sneaking a peak at the screen to see a text from Robert. “Merry Christmas from Cliff and me.” Damn those two are cute.
It’s Andrea’s first Christmas with us though and mom went through a lot of trouble to ensure that every detail is perfect. The whole room is decorated, glass bowls filled with giant Christmas balls and everything. The tree filled half the room and it is beautifully lite and filled with ornaments. I had helped her out with the shopping and decorating but gifts are now scattered under the tree, and Christmas stockings are hanging over the fireplace. The house hasn’t felt so joyful in years, the shining sun glistering through the wide eastern window brightening the whole room. I can’t tell if she is trying to pass this as our usual tradition or if she is trying to start one but I am enjoying this and it is something that I could get used to again.
I now realize that she is concocting family pictures, her makeup suspiciously heavy for this early in the morning. I pass a hand through my hair and regret not catching a glimpse of my reflection in my bedroom’s mirror before joining them here. Considering my plaid ensemble, there isn’t much that I can do to save myself. Not that I care – whatever.
Mom officiates with a speech, about coming together or something equally boring, dragging on every sentence and making ignoring her effortless. My attention is instead consumed by the man at her side. Even the gifts under the tree can’t distract me from the irrepressible feelings I hold for her Italian hunk. I am used to him in snug clothes that make him out a hung and alluring stallion but never like in the unforgiving silk pants that he is wearing this morning. A few legs shift and Andrea’s prick is sculpted perfectly. I keep my glances short and as far between as I can not to get caught staring but the sight truly is to behold. His voluptuous balls are begging to be squeezed between his legs. I can’t help but wonder if the soft fabric moving with leg shakes and small adjustments feels like angels’ hands massaging him, and honestly, I am wishful to see him get aroused by the sensation of the delicate material caressing his body.
Admittedly, my obsession with the man has grown into something that I can’t fully control. He consumes me, the only thing I can think of sometimes. Even my dreams have started playing tricks on me. They are immersed by sensual foreplay and penetration games and some of them are so intense that I can’t be convinced that they aren’t real, like the one from last night.
I vividly remember the details: him sneaking into my room late at night and joined me under the blankets, pushing his warm and strong naked body against mine, his dick hard after days of being tormented by his furtive desires for me pushed against my ass. He kissed my neck softly while disruptively exploring my body with his hands. His sensual touch, along with my own carnal desires, had me responding to him, pushing myself against his protruding erection, anticipating the moment I would finally feel him sliding in me. Oh, how I wanted to treat him like a man, and him making me feel like his woman/man. I longed for his touch so badly that every stroke, every caress, was nurturing a fire that consumed me.
We were soon breathing loudly and lost in a dance of sexual movements. He had a hand down my legs and was massaging my ass in a way no one ever has. He held me close while he adeptly tended to my swollen dick with the palm of his hand; moving it in circles for a hypnotic sense of submission. He used his other hand to pinch both my nipples until they got hard and sensible, to the point that I was lying in the state of total defeat that he seeked, waiting for him to slide his prick in my desiring ass.
Even in my dream he was a gentleman, questioning me if I really wanted to go through with this. I repeatedly answered “yes” but he kept asking until I ultimately had to beg him for more. Andrea finally obliged, once I was able to formulate a complete sentence: “Fuck me.” He reached down and pointed his horny cock between my cheeks to find my soft opening. The pleasure imploded from within as he introduced himself slowly but assertively until my ass was full of his breeding stick. He kept himself deep in me at first, with little movement like he wanted to keep it in me forever. I wanted it no other way, desperately hoping that he would enjoy himself enough to keep coming back. He wasn’t my step-father yet, and I never want him to be either. He should be mine, and only mine.
His thrusts quickly intensified, our breath shortened. He gave me long strokes of his cock that had me crying out in silence. He kept his rapid pace, pushing me to my stomach so he could pump me even harder. He was pleasuring himself, to my endearment, huffing in my ears while holding me firmly to him. Andrea was fucking my tight ass raw like an animal and I loved it.
He came without warning. The man kept in me whole as my own incredible spasms of pure ecstasy exploded and his thick juice oozed out of his joystick. It was like an eruption and I never felt fuller. “Aaah… FAAACK! Andr—ohh…” My moans were smothered by the mattress but it didn’t stop me from jerking my hips against him, like a deprived nympho, until he pulled out and fell on the bed beside me.
In my dream, I turned around to look at him, wanting to be held close to him, our bodies against each other. We didn’t kiss but he held my gaze passionately like he had a hundred things to say. I wanted to convey the desires I felt for him but no words came out. As much as his romantic brown eyes captured my soul, it was his lips that had me transcended. Unfortunately for me, that’s when the dream ended, just before I could reach out to them. The next thing I knew, my mother was dropping a box at my feet this morning.
Now back in the present, I look over at Andrea sitting on the couch wearing his silk pyjamas and lust for the intimacy that we’ve only shared in my dreams. But more importantly, I crave his confession of forbidden passion and eternal love for me more than ever. His manly good looks, his distracting accent, all for me.
Ok, I really need to get him off my mind. Gosh, why is he so desirable?
“It’s time for presents.” My mother finally exclaims, getting up and reaching down to grab a small box wrapped in red which she gives to her boyfriend. “You are not easy to shop for, but I think that you will enjoy this.” She says as she waits nervously at his side. “Your gift is under the tree, honey.” She adds, assumingly to me, unyielding from her seat.
Excited, I reach for the large box that has my name on it and have the wrapping paper off in seconds to find a warm winter coat that I actually need. “Aww, thanks mom.” I slide my arms inside the coat and pop the hoodie on top of my head. It looks and feels perfect. Plus, the temperature outside is dropping and I didn’t want to spend money on a coat.
“Thank you Penny, I love it.” Andrea cheers, happy. It was the cutest thing ever. She has gifted him a gold watch that he immediately strapped around his wrist. Gold jewelry is his favorite and they match his skin tone perfectly.
“I thought that you’d like it.” Mom gushes and leans for a kiss that gets a bit too passionate for my comfort. I realize that it is my turn to give so I turn my attention to the tree and reach for the two gifts that are wrapped half-decently. Shopping for my mother is easy - a gift card at the mall for her to use at any of their stores. Shopping is like holiday therapy for my mother, and I think that a little more will make her happy, but I spent weeks debating what to get him.
In the midst of another day obsessing with the man, I had bought sexy boxer briefs that I thought he would look irresistible in. They were tight and soft, and I imagined his dick comfortably snugged in them. He could wear it under his suit at work, or with nothing else after a shower. Either way, I fantasized about sliding my hands on the soft material with him filling them up, feeling his firm ass in them, gently caressing his bulge. In my head, Andrea would have felt obliged to model them for me privately without even asking, and would act like what they concealed as mine whenever he had them on. He’d tell me that but in the end, the simple thought of watching him open the gift in front of my mother had me flustered so I decided to get him something a little less provocative but just as pleasing to the eye.
“Thank you honey,” my mother says, placing the gift card in her purse while Andrea is still carefully unwrapping his. It contains the long sleeve, body hugging, cashmere shirt that I got him. I just knew he’d look incredibly handsome in it. Admittedly, I'm slightly turned on by the fact that he now has to wear it at least once for me and that I might be able to snap at least one picture without looking like a pervert. I don’t know but that picture would mean something to me.
“I have something for you too, Aaron.” I realize that he is speaking to me, pointing to the only gift left under the tree. I am dee, delighted to know that he has thought about me, hoping that we have similar taste in gift-giving choices. A shirt, pants, boxers… Whatever it is, he can expect to see me flaunting it for him.
I grab the last present and sit on the floor in the middle of the room. I tear the box open, unbothered by the wrapping paper, to find something that makes me smile from ear to ear. There is not a day in heaven that I could have expected what I am holding in my hands. The present contains one big, veiny silicone cock. I cannot believe my eyes; my ass literally loosened up. This toy has one function, a very definite purpose, and it is coming from him… To add to my euphoria, I recognize the label on the box as a company that creates dildos that are exact replicas of their customer’s cock, realizing that Andrea had masturbated and molded his erection to make me a toy. It must be the most personal gift that anyone could give. He’s finally heard my deepest prayers, or someone has anyways.
Should I thank him for the gift? How grateful should I appear? This is too real. What does this mean, and why give it to me in front of my mother?
Mom is stunned, completely speechless as I would expect her to be. Even I don’t know what to say, holding her boyfriend’s erection in my hands. “Em… em…” Andrea stutters nervously. We both wait to hear what he is about to say. If he had tried to crawl out of his skin before, he wants to disappear now. “I… This gift was for you Penny. I used the same wrapping paper for all of my gifts. I must have taken the wrong one. I am sorry…” He trails off at the end while I have the burning desire to know what else he would have added if I hadn’t been there; how erotic it would have been if everything had played out the way he had planned – but to me instead of her. You love my dick, and I want you to pleasure yourself with it anytime you want it. I imagine him serenading in his Italian accent as he presents the gift later tonight, while introducing it slowly in me.
Mom seems satisfied with his answer, grabs the box from my hand and leaves the room to presumably bring her new toy to her bedside stand. I watch her leave, never will I forget what I held in my hands no matter how briefly, praying that I will get the chance again but with the real thing instead.
Andrea is sitting awkwardly on the couch, staring at the floor and doing pretty much everything he can to avoid looking at me. I don’t mind since it gives me the chance to dissect the moment a bit, capturing every moment into my long-term memory like the size of that toy! What is he thinking about now? How does he feel about what happened? Is he glad deep down? Was this planned? Andrea, if you can read my mind, thank you for your innocent mistake.
Everything about him is too alluring and if I could have one wish this Christmas that isn’t I’m naked on my bed, it would be for Andrea to mold his hard dick into a toy for me to use whenever I want. I’ll mold him myself if I can. Even if the gift had only been mine for a brief moment, it had been the greatest gift possible.
My mother’s high heels clapping on the staircase advises of her imminent return and that’s when Andrea and I finally exchange a look, only this time he did not divert his attention away like he usually does. He holds my gaze and I swear that something is communicated during this quick moment that was interrupted by my mother’s entrance into the room. It was too sudden! Had I imagined something there?
“Family picture time.” Mom calls out enthusiastically, breaking my trail of thought as she takes her camera tripod from the corner of the room that I have been too distracted to notice until now. Me, wearing a festive flannel while they, looking adorable with matching silk. I knew it, everything was too arranged. It is just like her to pretend like our life is glamorous and take a picture reminder. “Aaron, honey, why don’t you go on your knees in front of Andrea?”
Down on my knees in front of Andrea? Yeah, ok…, with his dick in my mouth. I’d frame that picture. I certainly am going to protest her posing arrangement so I oblige, kneeling on the floor at his side. I don’t trust myself at his feet so I turn my attention to my mother trying to set up her camera but my dirty mind is working against me: Rest a hand on his leg, somehow flare his cock accidentally, wink at him and sit on his lap. That’d surely make us look like a close-knit family for the picture. I want to do all of these things and more, make him hard for me. I am tormented, now more than ever, having seen an exact replica of his fuck tool and I know that he is thinking about it too. If only I can find a way to show him what I can do with it.
My ass is approvingly and wanting nothing less than being penetrated and fucked with the real thing. Evidently, nothing can alter my state of mind until I retreat to relieve myself, the picture session being the only obstacle. I move closer to Andrea and do what I can to keep my hands to myself. No matter how much he wants to resist me, act like he doesn’t care, his prick isn’t going anywhere and I find that notion arousing. It’s resting right there between his legs, having every nerve of his body connecting to it. A flare of my hand will probably have him tenting his thin pajamas. He is lucky that I’m not teasing him about his gift blunder, not yet anyways. It isn’t going to be forgotten anytime soon and I have a feeling that he won’t either. He might be keeping his silence but there is something more that he isn’t telling, I can tell.
“Assume your position.” Mom taunts before getting behind us. What position? I do the first thing that comes to mind; my hands on Andrea’s left knee looking like a studious boy because I know he can’t shrug them away. I focus on the picture taken, smile innocently, but my thoughts are far from it. How much more can I do before he stops me?
These provocative thoughts persist as the camera goes off on timer. Unable to resist, I move a hand up his leg slightly while looking straight at the camera like nothing is going on. The silk pajama is soft to the touch, and I know that it is for him too. I quiver gently as the feeling of my hand on his leg animates my senses and become increasingly aware that I have never touched him this way. His strong legs are welcoming, inviting me to persist and explore without boundaries. But I don’t, even if I know that he has no choice but to sit still until the flashes stop.
My heart is pounding, my mind consumed with vile desires. I realize how vulnerable we both are and how close I am at crossing the line with him, one that is better crossed in my fantasy world, alone and in the privacy of my bedroom. The last thing I want is for him to go out of his way to avoid me after this so I do what I can to calm myself down while keeping a straight face for the pictures being taken on a five seconds counter.
There must be a dozen flashes before the photoshoot is over and my mother reaches for the camera impatiently. She starts browsing through them, and they turn out better than I had expected. They actually are great pictures of us three. My mother is stunning behind us with a hand on Andrea’s shoulder while I am kneeled in front of him with both my hands on his leg. He gives the impression of a pimp with both of his women at his side; at least, that’s how I see it. If there is any way to make this morning better, on the last few pictures, it looks like Andrea has some tenting action going on in his unforgiving pants. Had I turned him on? Is he hiding a sexual desire for me too, and was this a sign that I have a chance with the hunk after all?
My waistband needing to be adjusted is putting it lightly. The tally of the morning has built up to something that I can no longer hide so I cover my erection, get up and excuse myself to retreat to my room. Grateful for the forgiving material of flannel, I climb the stairs two steps at a time and close the door behind me, but leave it unlocked. My mind is overloaded with erotic scenarios and I wast no time to oblige to the first one that settles in with the intention of exposing myself in the likelihood that Andrea follows me upstairs. After all, there is the possibility that he wants to come and express his regrets about the gift mixt-up, and I am getting ready to accept his apology.
I pull down my pajamas and feel myself provocatively like someone is watching. My fingers explore every one of my sensual spots impetuously, finally appealing to my senses after a sexually tormenting morning. I couldn’t have taken a moment longer in that room with him without doing something regrettable. My fingers trail down my stomach to find my cock; swollen and begging. My knees soon get weak and it takes more effort to stay upright than falling on my bed and burying my face in my blankets with my sweet ass exposed to the doorway. I reach down from under me and slide my index finger inside my ass, teasing it a bit first before slipping in.
The feeling is explosive and some precum overflow from my reserves. The conflicting emotions relating to my step-father gradually dissipates through an array of short, rhythmic gestures that keeps me panting. I keep my eyes closed and start to recollect every sexy detail that has aroused my morning. The first thing that comes is the feeling of his powerful legs under my touch, how soft silk feels, how much will power I used to restrain myself. I want my hands on his lap again and I explored a world where I had extended my reach to stroke his cock until he moaned like a stud. Then I would have removed his shirt to trail my lips along his sculpted body until I got to his neck… Straddling him…
“Mm… Yeah baby.”
The fantasy doesn’t require much imagination to develop. Go on, open your gift Aaron. I want to see you play with it. My mind convulses at the vision of him kneeling between my open legs, holding the toy he gifted while feasting on my young ass. He is just as delicate with his mouth as he was with his hands trying on his new watch earlier, and felt delicious. His tongue splits my cheeks open and dances with my perky hole to prepare me for his model toy. Wow, that is hot!
My touch is frustratingly not enough anymore. It hasn’t been for months. I need to be fucked hard and no one has been able to appease my lust braising for Andrea. “Come to me baby, come and pound me.” I start chanting softly, calling him to me. Use me now and use me in the middle of the night. Lie in my bed with me and let me show you what it is like to be worshiped the way that you should be. “He’s not my step-father yet, and I never want him to be. He could be mine, and only mine.”
I reach for my own dildo from the nightstand drawer and contemplate a different ending to this morning, had it worked out my way. I lie on my back this time with my legs wide open, keeping my ass wet and facing the unlocked door anticipating Andrea’s imminent entrance. I pretend that his molded gift was indeed meant for me, that he wanted to try it on for size, insert it in me, and see me fuck myself with it. I bring my dildo to my hips and flare the tip on my hole. Hornier than ever, I start to probe myself slowly, inserting more each time, imagining him savouring the view before him.
The sensation of my body embracing the intrusion is wonderful. Moans escape my lips as I reach deeper, my playful scenario soon taking a life of its own. “More… Andrea.” I beg between breaths, still hopeful that Andrea will enter my room to apologize and find me like this. I don’t know if I would act surprised if he did.
Oh, I can just see him close the door behind him and indulge the view. He will smile as he will push down his pants to the floor, place himself between my legs and slap my ass with his hard dick. My nipples are hard and I pinch them with my free hand as the one controlling the rigid toy aims between my cheeks. With one swift hand gesture, I penetrate myself and rest the toy deep as Andrea plants himself whole in me in my imagination. I repeat until my fantasy and imagination blurs, and Andrea finds out how I would manage the real thing.
It’s been ten days since I came last. Trying to ignore my needs has only made things worse for me. The bed is shaking at the swing of my thighs and my hips, and I feel myself building up to an intense orgasm and getting tight around my joystick wishing it was him. Trying to compensate elsewhere has brought me to mutter his name and nothing for my sex-drive. I shoot my load and cover the sheets with my cum, collapsing and panting for my breath.
Shame for yielding mom’s boyfriend eventually dissipates. My mind clears and my breathing eases, and I feel relaxed - now more than I have in a while. Andrea doesn’t leave my thoughts though. In many ways, he gave me the best Christmas possible, one that I will never forget and will look back to for a long time.
My phone lights up and vibrates on top of my tousled sheets, distracting me to let me know that I have been tagged in a photo that mom posted on her social profile. My lovely family, it reads. I roll my eyes but zoom in nonetheless. It really is a good picture. We all look happy, and I can tell what I was thinking about by the look on my face.
I liked the picture and save a copy for future usage before tossing my phone back on my bed. “What am I doing?” I ask myself yet unable to complete any intelligible thought process. I close my eyes for a quick moment before reaching for my phone again, finding the saved picture of us three and sliding a hand between my legs once more.
Aaron, your obsession is stirring but desires are a revolving process. They cycle through to help us mature by discovering what we enjoy the most and become exhilarating when something is exciting, but if desires turn to temptation, you’ll become persistent and desperation often reverts to manipulation. Are you sure that you are not compensating for a stale time in your life? Sometimes, we seek control and we project ourselves onto others to have an impact.
If we discipline with what is possible, a change in environment does help if abstaining or
confessing isn’t a foreseeable option. Not everything that we want, we should get but Andrea sounds irresistible. Something tells me that my friend won’t be able to resist his temptation.