I wiped steam off the bathroom mirror, leaving a streak of cleared glass. The two-inch bruise around my neck showed easily against my bare skin. Yellow tinged the edges like it had tried to heal a hundred times and had finally given up.
Ties covered it during the workweek. Any other time I chose between a turtleneck and a lot of concealer. Since it was a cool October night that would turn into November at midnight, a turtleneck seemed the way to go for the evening.
The floor vibrated and loud clanks echoed from the other end of the house as Tank picked up and dropped weights in his gym.
I’d bought the equipment and converted one bedroom into a gym a little over ten years before. It’d been his first birthday after his mother and I married, and I went overboard on the gifts.
She was ten years older than me. Being twenty-six and suddenly having an eighteen-year-old son scared the hell out of me.
Her son, Tank hadn’t been scared—he was pissed as all hell. So, I overcompensated.
I wanted to make a good impression on my wife… and for reasons I wasn’t ready to admit, my new son.
I’d met her in a bar where she waitressed. With long black hair, the perfect figure, and a personality that made every hetero man’s cock stand up and pay attention, every bar regular and fly-by-night businessman tried to pick her up—and most succeeded. But, I’d landed her.
With a steady, good paying job, she’d felt I’d be a good influence on her son.
The kid needed a lot more than influence.
He was a damned good football player in high school. That and his looks should have kept him knee deep in friends and shoulder deep in pussy. But, the only person who could stand him was the coach.
Tank was a fucking asshole.
He was the kid who pulled wings off butterflies and kicked puppies. Playground fights and trips to the principal’s office took up most of his school day. If it hadn’t been for his defensive tackling abilities, they’d have expelled him.
Playing college ball was all he thought about and, since he didn’t have friends, there was plenty of time to work out and perfect his body.
By the time I entered the picture, his record had kept him out of every college, so he was pissed off, enormous, and beautiful. Women—and quite a few men—couldn’t keep their eyes off him. He never showed interest in the men, but the women caught his eye for a while. As long as their bodies lived up to his idea of perfection.
He’d go on dates and come home early saying the girl was a flake or a cock-tease, then run up to his room and masturbate. It was more likely that his personality drove them away. Sometimes one would ignore his attitude long enough to get a bit of his dick, but they wouldn’t stick around afterward.
From what I’d caught glimpses of, he had a nice cock, but it wasn’t worth the hassle.