Daddy's Stepstalker (Daddy's Little Deviants)

Shaw

Standingintheshower, I watched the water wash away the mud on my hands. Hands I’d used to dig a hole to bury a body. I shouldn’t have interfered. Shouldn’t have driven far up into the woods on the other side of town on someone else’s property. Ari had given me the out when he told me to leave everything up to him. He would take care of the body, but like the fool my ex-wife called me so many times, I volunteered to drive the car.

I vowed to myself to let him get the job done by himself, but seeing him struggling with the shovel to dig a hole big enough to sufficiently bury the corpse had been more than I could handle. Despite what he did, I couldn’t get it out of my head that this was my sweet little Ari who made me breakfast in the morning, had the smile of a thousand suns and the kindness of a saint.

There had to be a good reason why he killed Rich. Maybe Rich had come back to harass him and it had been self-defense like Ari said, but doubt niggled at my brain. If it was self-defense, why hadn’t he called the police once he committed the crime? Why had he taken this path? Had he done this before?

I didn’t even want to contemplate what Anne told me. That Ari possibly killed his father. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about Anne’s words.

Even when the water ran clean, assuring me that all the dirt had been washed off my hands, I couldn’t stop scrubbing. The dirt on my conscience couldn’t be so easily cleansed. I didn’t owe so much as a parking ticket. I lived my life within the law. I didn’t break the rules, and now I was getting involved in all sorts of questionable activities since Ari’s return. Was this karma screwing me over for being intimate with my stepson? Someone I helped raise?

The shower door slid back, and I turned, wiping the water from my eyes. A naked Ari stepped in with me. He’d been just as filthy as me when we got home, but here he was completely naked, tattoos covering the back of his slender limbs and lower back. I’d never found tattoos attractive before. In fact, I dissuaded teens from getting them, but the black ink on Ari’s body was arousing. Flower petals cupped his bouncy ass cheeks.

But then he turned to me, and I couldn’t get the sight of him rolling the body into the hole without so much as a wince out of my mind. My hard cock shriveled up.

“What are you doing here, Ari?” I asked.

His bottom lip trembled. “I thought you may need some help with washing up.”

“I’m fine. You should go and wait for me so we can talk.”

He pouted at me. “But I don’t want to talk. I have other things I want to do to you.”

With a playful smile on his lips, he curled his hand around my soft cock. He stroked it, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. “I want to make it hard for me. Do you want me to make you hard, Daddy?”

“That’s enough, Ari.” I pried his hand away from my dick. How could he be so easily aroused after everything we’d just been through? I was still trying to come to terms with what I did.

“I know you’re thinking about what happened,” he said softly, making no attempt to touch me this time. Instead, he dropped his hand between his legs and cupped his small, erect dick. It was pink and pretty, tucked up to his belly. He was already soaked since slipping into my shower, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He just kept stroking away. As I watched him, he brushed his other hand over his flat stomach and up and rubbed his nipples.

“Of course I’m thinking about what happened. I don’t understand how you can simply shrug it off.”

“It’s easy,” he replied. “I can show you how if you let me. Do you want me on my knees for you, Daddy? I’ll make you hard with my hands, and then I’ll suck you into my mouth and make you come down my throat.” He half turned to me, showing me his delectable round ass. A finger disappeared between his cheeks. “Or if you want, you can put your cock into my tiny little hole. I got it all lubed and ready for you.”

Speechless, I watched him slip a finger into his hole, a soft moan spilling from his plump lips. He stroked his cock as that finger fucked his hole hard.

“Stop it, Ari.” But the words came out hoarse, and I wasn’t even sure if he heard me over the pounding shower.

“Feels so good, Daddy,” he whimpered, then removed his finger and slipped it into his mouth, licking it while he eyed me from heavy-lidded eyelids. The same finger slid back into his hole, his hand moving with excited vigor, his breaths coming out huffed and needy.

“Would feel so much better with your cock inside me,” he murmured. “I’d come so hard riding your big cock. Don’t you want that, Daddy?”

He gave a soft cry, and ropes of cum shot onto the bathroom tiles. He slowly removed his finger and slumped against the wall, his chest heaving.

Without a word, I slid back the shower door and stepped out. I couldn’t be in the same room with him right now. How could he be thinking about sex after everything? Anne had been right. Something wasn’t quite right with him. And I helped him bury a corpse when I knew what I should have done.

I was so fucked.

My stomach roiled and dipped. I swallowed down the bile that rose into my mouth — ignoring Ari’s soft "Daddy" — snagged the towel, and made my way to my bedroom. I scrubbed at my hair and body, disappearing into my closet to find some clothes. I blindly chose a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt, then turned. Ari was sitting on the bed, the bed sheet pulled up to his neck.

As he sat there, staring up at me with hurt eyes, guilt gnawed at me. Like I was the one in the wrong when I knew he was. He dragged me into this madness with him.

“You should go to bed, Ari,” I said. “Tomorrow, when I’m in a better frame of mind, we’ll talk.”

“We don’t have to talk now,” he argued. “If you’re too tired, I don’t mind being on top. I love being on top.”

Jealousy and irritation mixed inside me. I didn’t want to hear about him riding any other man. And I hated the way I got so irrationally jealous when he inadvertently mentioned someone else. This wasn’t like me. I didn’t get jealous. I didn’t get possessive. Ever.

What the hell was he doing to me?