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.
I’d experimented with guys in college, but it hadn’t gone past the fucking around part. A nice place to store my dick for the night when there weren’t any girls available. When I met Tank, I wanted to experiment again.
He had the same dark complexion, jet-black hair, and fuck-it attitude as his mother—which is what drew me to her. But, he had an even nicer ass.
The door to the gym opened, pulling me out of my memories. I slung a towel around my waist.
“I need in there,” Tank said, standing in the doorway. His naked chest heaved from the intensity of his workout and drenched workout trunks clung to his hips.
I smiled. “Sure. Does that mean you’re going to the Halloween party tonight?”
He shrugged and pushed past me. “I fucking shouldn’t.” The shower curtain clattered open and he pushed his shorts down. “Assholes. All of them.”
“Well,” I started, trying to sound as positive as possible. “Maybe you’ll meet some new people. Maybe a nice girl?”
He grunted and turned on the water.
Steam billowed from the shower and I went to the kitchen to make dinner so he could eat before he left. I looked forward to having the night to myself. With a lot of luck, he’d have a great time and spend the night.
He had no friends, but he had coworkers who were throwing a Halloween party. Even then I had to spend a week convincing him to go. Tank would much rather spend his time alone working out or playing video games.
When he couldn’t get into college, he’d taken a job as a security guard on the docks on the graveyard shift. Most nights, he didn’t see another person for his whole eight hours. He’d read, do push-ups, and stare into the black ocean. He’d engineered his life to be completely alone… except for me.
Just as I set his dinner on the table, he lumbered into the dining room. I’d let out his only Halloween costume so his increased muscle wouldn’t rip the seams. Seeing him in the pirate outfit threw me back to that night ten years before.
His mother and I had married a little less than a year earlier, and my mild curiosity about the kid had grown into an all-out obsession. She was at work most nights because that shift yielded the best tips, so it was just us.
He still resented having a stepfather only eight years older than him, and iced me out most of the time. That made me want him even more. I had fantasies about fucking him so hard he’d have to call me Dad.
He’d been invited to a party that year too, and his mother had all but ordered him to go. Since she was at work, I’d helped him fix his long black wig, sword, and secured a stuffed parrot on his shoulder. When he was ready to go, I grabbed the bucket of candy I’d bought for the trick-or-treaters and followed him out.
I sat in the rocking chair and watched him walk down the path toward his car. Back then, he still had the muscles of an athlete—the lean, sexy muscles of youth. His perky, round ass rolled beneath the tight black fabric of the pirate costume.
It was a good thing I’d been sitting, because my cock ballooned under the toga I’d made out of an old bed sheet. I’d figured that if I handed out candy, I should be in costume. I also should have worn underwear.
He climbed into his pickup and slammed the door, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a thin light across the sky. A shooting star.
I’d never been superstitious, but figured wishing couldn’t hurt.
“I wish he just wanted me,” I whispered. Even if we never hooked up, at least seeing him have some desire for it would be exciting.
“Is this it?” Tank grunted, pushing two chicken breasts around the plate.
It wasn’t the lack of variety he was commenting on. He ate almost nothing but protein for most meals. Two chicken breasts and a steak would have come closer to his usual meal.
“I… I’m sorry, Tank. I forgot to go to the store today.” I turned away to say the rest, half hoping he wouldn’t hear the words. “I can go tonight while you’re out. That way there’ll be plenty when you get home.”
I almost never went out at night, and I’d purposely not gone to the store so I’d have to go out. The towel I’d put on in the bathroom still hung on my hips, but there was a tight turtleneck and jeans laying across my bed, just waiting for me to slide into them.
Tank had dictated my workout regime when his mother left— only two months after that first Halloween. He monitored every workout and every bite of food I took. He’d molded my body into his idea of perfect… and I had to admit, it was mine too.
It was rare that I had the chance to find someone else to admire it though. I could never have sex with anyone else because of the bruises, but it was fun to get close.
“You can wait until tomorrow,” Tank said, pinning me with a look as he chewed his chicken. It was an order…
It might be worth disobeying, just for the night.
I leaned against the kitchen sink and waited while he ate, in case he needed a refill on his drink. Besides, I couldn’t get dressed until the new truck I’d bought him disappeared around the bend of the street.
Anticipation built in my chest as I got ready to peek through the curtains in the living room and watch his taillights disappear.
His fork clanged to the plate, and he drained the rest of his soda. “Guess I’m outta here.”
I smiled, picked up his dishes, and quickly loaded them into the dishwasher. “Have a great time tonight,” I said, trying to sound just cheerful enough.
He grunted and grabbed his keys off the counter. My keys and the bucket of candy I’d bought for trick-or-treaters sat right next to them.
Please, please, I thought as he eyed it. I had no intention of handing out candy and planned to dump it in a trashcan at the gas station down the street.
He picked up my car keys too.
“Oh, Tank…” I started apologetically. “I need those if I’m going to the store tonight.” To make sure I didn’t do anything he didn’t approve of while he was at work, he always took my car keys with him. I hoped he’d just grabbed them out of habit… but his eyes said otherwise.
“I told you to go in the morning.”
Holding both sets of keys, he walked out the front door and down the path toward his truck.
“Of course, Tank. Enjoy yourself tonight,” I called out. My eyes stung, but I’d had enough practice keeping my emotions out of my voice that I sounded happy.
I closed the door just as his truck revved to life and pulled away, leaving me in lonely silence.
There’d been no impulse to watch his buns in the tight pants like that first Halloween ten years earlier.
After I’d made my wish, I forgot about it. How many shooting stars and blown eyelashes had I wished on by then? Caring about the outcome of those wishes was pointless.
I spent the next two hours laughing at kid’s costumes and pretending to be scared. That year there seemed to be an overabundance of five-year-olds whose parents had forgotten to get a costume and wrapped their children up as toilet paper mummies.
The sun had just set when Tank’s truck came roaring back down the street. He screeched to a stop in front of the house, slammed the door, and stormed into the house.
The number of younger trick-or-treaters had dwindled, and I’d already given out all the good candy, so when Tank stomped past me, I got up and followed.
I flicked off the porch lights to signal the end of my house as a calorie source and walked down the hall to Tank’s room. Muffled screams erupted just as I got to the door.
He was face down on his bed, yelling with his head buried in a pillow.
Every time he took a breath and bellowed, his body contracted, making his muscled, pert ass clench beneath the thin material of the pirate costume.
Feeling it was my fatherly duty; I sat on the bed next to him. I wanted to reach out and grab his ass… just touch it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Tank’s scratchy voice jolted me back to reality. It was extra gruff because of the yelling and because I’d invaded his space.
“I… I just want to make sure you’re alright,” I stammered. “Did something happen at the party?”
His eyes were hard and accusing. “Fucking assholes, all of them. Were you staring at my ass again?”
Again? Fuck. Had he noticed before?
“What happened?” I asked, hoping that ignoring his question would make it go away.
“Nothing but assholes and cock teases. What the fuck would I stick around for?” He rolled over onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows. “See what that bitch did?”
He nodded down to his crotch.
I turned my head away quickly. The outline of his hard cock beneath the shiny black material made my face burn.
The noise he made was as close to a laugh as I’d ever heard from him.
“You some sort of faggot?” he sneered.
Still looking away, I said, “No. Of course not.” He’d heard me fucking his mother for almost a year by then. How could he think…
But, even as I thought all those things, my dick started to betray me.
A firm hand gripped my wrist and yanked.
“Feel it,” he demanded.
Before I knew what was happening, my stepson pressed my hand against the warm hardness of his covered cock. I struggled to pull my hand away.
I wasn’t a small man by any means, still youthful and muscular myself, but he outweighed me and had the advantage of surprise.
His sadistic laugh sent chills through me as he thrust into my writhing hand.
“I know how you look at me.” He crushed my wrist and pain shot up my arm.
I ground my teeth together so I wouldn’t cry out.
“You look at my ass like it’s Sunday dinner. Faggot.”
“I… no… Come on, Tank.” I couldn’t bring myself to deny it, so I redoubled my effort to free my hand.
“You can’t have my ass, fag…” He narrowed his eyes as a thought clouded his face. “I’ll make a deal with you though…”
My ears pounded and my cock throbbed, making the lap of my loose toga jump along with my heartbeat. His grip—the firmness of his erection—his horrible laugh—I’d never been so horny in my life.
“What,” I whispered.
His mouth curled into a sneer. “You can lick my asshole.”
My heart stopped. That was the last thing—and the only thing—I wanted to do.
“I… Tank… seriously… no.” My panting and confusion made it impossible to make a complete sentence.
“You just have to suck me off first.” He loosened his grip on my hand.
I stopped fighting.
He let go of my wrist.
I left my hand where it was, cupping his erection. It had grown even larger.
I’d wanted to see his ass up close for a long time. Even if I couldn’t fuck him, maybe getting that close to it would break the obsession spell it held on me and I could move on…
Fuck. The amount of rationalization that went through my head was amazing.
“Go ahead,” Tank urged. “I’m tired of jerking off. You take care of my mom… take care of me too.”
Why the hell that insane reasoning made sense is beyond me.
Tank thrust his hips, driving his cock into my hand.
I gripped his erection through the pants and kneaded it, appreciating its girth and firmness.
“Go ahead.” He said it like he knew I’d already decided and just needed a starting gun.
He was right.
I slid my hand to the costume’s waistband and pulled the strings that held the crotch together. My lungs struggled, and my arms felt detached.
He relaxed back and put his arms behind his head. “Do a good job.”
Someone else’s hands eased down his pants, freeing his throbbing cock. Even erect, his foreskin covered half of the dark head. I’d never seen that before.
It wasn’t until it brushed against my lips that I realized those had been my hands.
The extra skin moved back and forth easily over the shaft. And a wet spot formed on the front of my toga.
I’d sucked cock a couple of times with those guys in college, but never with enthusiasm. They’d just been courtesy blowjobs. Sort of a quick “thank you.” It was the least I could do since I was about to plow their asses.
I cursed myself for not working on my technique back then, because I wanted to do a good job for Tank. Pleasing him was all I could think about.
Finally, tired of my timid approach, he grabbed my head and yanked. I struggled to pull my head back as his cock slid into my throat, cutting off my air. But, I just didn’t have the leverage to pull away.
The more I struggled, the harder he pulled.
My nose buried in his public hair, and his shaft completely sheathed in my spasming throat.
I pushed and thrashed, gasping for air.
The more I fought, the bigger his cock grew, filling my throat even more.
“Breathe through your nose.” Tank’s deep, rumbling voice sounded far away.
My lungs burned. I grabbed his hips and pushed as hard as I could, but couldn’t dislodge myself.
Using some sort of wrestling move, Tank flipped both of us over, pinning my head to the bed with his cock like a butterfly on a corkboard insect exhibit.
Everything went dark, and my struggling grew weaker.
“Through your nose.” His command sounded even farther away, but somehow, that time it penetrated my panic.
I relaxed my throat and pulled in air though my nose. It wasn’t enough to replenish my oxygen-starved body, but it was enough to keep me conscious while my lungs caught up.
After about a minute, Tank asked, “Better?”
My stretched mouth couldn’t have formed the words even if there was enough air to speak, so I nodded as much as I could.
He eased back.
The bulbous head of his cock slid along my throat. I almost wished I was outside my body to see if its progress was visible from the outside.
It slid just clear of my throat, and my lungs gasped to fill with as much air as they could. And that’s all I had time for.
He slammed back down my throat—over and over.
With every thrust I would have sworn my nose would break against the hard muscled of his abdomen.
My concerns about technique had been unnecessary. Against his onslaught, all I could do was hold on to consciousness and take it.
After what seemed like hours, he slowed and finally pulled all the way out, trailing a long line of saliva off the end of his bouncing rod.
I jerked my head to the side to keep him from going back in before I could catch my breath.
“I can’t get off like that,” he declared. “And, I was thinking.”
My heart froze. I’d taken all I could. “No…” But with my aching lungs and raw throat, the word barely stirred the air.
“If I’m going to let you lick my asshole,” he growled, “I should get a little more than your throat.”
I panicked and tried to fight again.
I swear his laugh came straight from hell as he jumped up and flipped me over.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows just as he flipped up the back of my toga.
One strike with his ham-sized fist sent me sprawling back onto the bed, face down.
Before I could protest again, the thick head of his cock, slicked with my own spit, pressed against my virgin pucker.
Screaming, I clawed at the bed, trying to get away.
He grabbed my hips and pain seared every nerve in my body as his balls slapped against mine. My ass completely engulfed his thick cock.
I collapsed on the bed, gritting my teeth and trying to ignore the tears that poured from my eyes. All I could think about was how ripped open my hole had to have been.
He ground his hips against my ass, making his long cock stir inside me for almost a minute.
I tried to relax and calm my breath. Hell, I’d fucked dudes before and they’d all taken it much better than I had. Surely the pain would die down. And it did, slightly…
I could almost control my breath until he started pounding again.
His grunts and my screams lined up perfectly.
“So… tight…” he said between thrusts. “Can’t… hold… out…”
He bellowed and a violent slam drove me into the mattress. Then he froze.
The only thing moving was Tank’s cock, pulsing with every delivery of spunk, filling my guts with all his pent-up frustrations.
After delivering all the cum his eighteen-year-old body could make, he collapsed on top of me.
Trapped under his massive body, I didn’t dare move. Tank still had me impaled, and I didn’t want to do anything to stimulate him again. I was so relieved the attack was over that I almost started laughing.
His cock moved inside me as it slowly deflated, and his heartbeat against my back slowed.
With a squelch he popped his cock out of me and lifted himself off the bed.
“Roll over.” His words held even more animosity than they had before, and I didn’t dare disobey.
I flipped over onto my back. The bed tilted with Tank’s weight as he climbed back up and knelt over my face.
His cock hung inches from my face, limp and still dripping cum.
“A deal’s a deal,” he said, laughing.
Damn, I never wanted to hear that laugh again.
He dropped, smashing his hairy, musky hole against my mouth and wriggling. “Is that what you wanted, faggot?”
I grunted and tried to move my head away, but his gyrating ass matched every move I made.
“I thought you wanted to kiss it, fag. I don’t feel a tongue.”
As ordered, I flicked my tongue against his pucker.
As soon as he felt it, he climbed off the bed. “Now, get the fuck out of my room, faggot.”
More ashamed than I’d ever been in my life, I dragged myself off the bed and straightened the fucking toga trying not to let him see that my precum dripping cock still jutted out in front of me. Why hadn’t I worn underwear?
As I was about to walk out the door, he grabbed my arm. “One more thing, fag.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes, so I studied the grain of the wood floor. “Yes?”
“I never plan on jerking off again. Good luck trying to keep up.”
Since Tank had taken my car keys, I was so depressed that I didn’t want to see happy people trick-or-treating. I didn’t turn on the porch light—hell, I didn’t even put on clothes.
One of the pay channels was running the same scary movies they play every Halloween. I watched a few of them, had a few beers, and called it a night.
Tank still wasn’t home. Maybe he’d finally met someone? Someone to get him out of the house more? Take some of his attention off me?
He’d been true to his word that Halloween night. My mouth and ass became the receptacle for every load his body churned up—twice, sometimes three or four times, a day.
Since he never let me get off, I still kept fucking his mother. And, more often than not, my thoughts were on Tank while I did it.
At first, he waited until his mother was at work or had gone out to the store. I came up with excuses for my black eyes and bruises, which she and my coworkers seemed to buy. But, he kept timing his attacks closer and closer to times when we’d get caught.
Then, one night after about two months of his brutality, it was date night for me and my wife. She was in the kitchen fixing Tank’s dinner, and I was dressed and in the bathroom finishing getting ready.
The bathroom door swung open and Tank strolled in like he owned the place.
I spit out my toothpaste. “What the fuck, Tank?” I whispered.
He crossed his arms and stayed silent. A long bulge ran across the front of his jeans.
“Are you fucking serious?” I wiped my mouth with a towel. There’s no way I’d have talked to him like that normally, but with his mother in the next room, I thought I was safe.
Still standing between me and the door, he reached into the shower and grabbed the bottle of strawberry-scented shampoo.
“Fuck, Tank... can’t it wait?” I ducked to the left, breaking for the door.
His thick arm shot out and slammed across my chest, knocking the breath out of me.
I stumbled back into the sink.
He grabbed the back of my head by the hair and shoved it against the medicine cabinet, leaving my body bowed, ass out, over the sink.
Please, let him make this quick, I thought... half praying.
Tank set the shampoo on the side of the sink to free up his hand.
I grunted as my jeans ripped down past my hips. Knowing there was no way out, I stuck my ass out farther. The less I fought, the less time it would take.
With one hand, he kept my face pressed sideways against the mirror facing the bathroom door. With the other, he freed his hard cock and poured shampoo across the top.
Never liking to get his hands messy with any of the various lubes he’d used on me—butter, motor oil, anything handy when he wanted to fuck—he ran his cock up and down my crack a couple of times.
I relaxed expectantly. My hard cock pressed against the cold sink. If nothing else, it would get me revved up for his mother as long as he was quiet—quick and quiet.
His knees bent, bringing his body down so the head of his cock was poised to impale me.
By that time, he’d violently shoved into me over a hundred times, so I knew what to expect and how to take it without noise.
His body tensed behind me. A sign I’d learned the meaning of. I let out all my breath so I’d have nothing to scream with.
Tank’s body jerked.
As his cock bottomed out in my ass, he bellowed like a wild boar.
Everything I had clenched.
He’d never made a noise anywhere near that loud.
The familiar pain was all but forgotten as he pounded me with his usual animal thrusts. I was still pinned against the mirror and I fixed my wide eyes on the door.
My head squeaked against the mirror and my hips smashed hard against the sink, thrusting up and down with every one of Tank’s assaults.
Two minutes into the fuck-down, my wife’s voice sounded from the bedroom.
“You okay in there, honey?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Our eyes met as she rounded the corner.
My head still swiped up and down the mirror like Tank was using my hair to clean it...
I flailed my arms, trying to push against the mirror, the wall, the sink... anything.
I couldn’t get away.
Tank pounded me even harder as my wife—his mother—stared.
Finally, without a word, she turned and walked away.
I scrambled, trying to follow her, but Tank wanted to finish his business.
Struggling just turned him on more, but I wanted to get to my wife to tell her—
What the fuck would I tell her?
Finally, I slumped against the sink.
With one final thrust, Tank’s body jerked as he emptied his balls into me again.
The second he let go of my head, I jerked away, popping his oozing, sudsy cock out of my ass.
He stepped back and moved his hips so his flagging cock slapped side to side against his hips. “This is all you’ve got now,” he grunted.
The house all but echoed with emptiness by the time I scrambled out of the bathroom. She was gone.
I called her cell at least twenty times that night, but every one of my calls went to voice mail. Finally, I drifted off to fitful sleep.
The next day at work was hell. I tried to call at least another thirty times, and then broke every speed limit on the way home that evening.
During the day, she’d cleared out all her stuff. Everything except her son.
When I walked in, Tank sat naked at the kitchen table, his angry, red cock stabbed up from his crotch. And he laughed.
“It’s just you and me now, Dad.”
And it had been, for ten years.
And, he’d gotten very creative in that time.
I really hoped he’d meet someone, some girl or boy who interested him and could put up with his violence. Something to end my prison.
It’s amazing what a human can get used to. We’re a very adaptable species. But, that doesn’t mean we don’t dream bigger.
I snuggled down onto my palette on the floor in the laundry room, enjoying the solitude.
The night I’d made the wish. Fucking Halloween. The words echoed in my head. “I want him to just want me.”
A car door slammed outside. Shit.
Keys. Front door. Footsteps.
He stood above me. Nothing stirred except his light breathing.
I stayed still; not daring to even let my breath move my chest.
The universe had misunderstood my wish.
Tank wanted just me.
A belt buckle clanked as he took it off a hook on the wall.
I tightened the muscles in my neck, hoping that wouldn’t be the night he’d go too far.