Sunday Funday With The Man of the House

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.

Please look for the rest of
Patience Lee's catalog at your favorite ebook store.

See her at her Facebook
page:

https://www.facebook.com/Patience-Lee-938583569559454

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https://twitter.com/familyerotica

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 been
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.