The Step Bro Situation (Situationship #1)

by Jesse H. Reign

A few months later, surprise, surprise…he proposed. It was the happiest day of his life. He actually said that. Out loud. To me.

Stage 5: Bedroom of Jessie Lewis – Beloved Stepson/Troubled Misfit.

Oh fuck. A morning person. This shit’s going from bad to worse.

I sit on my bed and think how unbelievably lucky orphans are to have no parents. No parents. No stepparents. And best of all, no stepbrothers.

“I’m sure it will take a while for you, too, but you’re going to love them, Jess. You’ll see. Once you get to know them, you’re going to love them like crazy.”

“Welp.” His voice is more breathy than usual. “I guess we should probably talk about what happened at the wedding, huh?”

He takes my arm and pulls me up onto my feet. His strength is surprising. So is the fact I don’t punch him.

The opening beat of the song gives rise to a very profound kind of shit show. The kind of shit show I could have lived the rest of my life without and been perfectly happy about it.

Watching him dance, seeing his face ruddy and shining like the big, dumb beefcake he is, fills me with such profound second-hand embarrassment I feel it throughout my body.

Luke’s disposition is so determinedly sunny, it’s hard to believe that anything bad has ever happened to him.

“Your dad is the only dad I’ve ever known,” he says lightly. He turns his gaze and fixes me with an overly intimate smile. “Thanks for sharing him with me.”

Someone needs to talk to this guy. Someone needs to sit him down and give him the low down on what’s appropriate to say to other guys and what’s not. Someone needs to do it soon.

I watch him until I have his stroke memorized and I’m able to predict his next one with a horrifying degree of accuracy.

Someone needs to protect him, or he’s going to get badly hurt. Someone has to protect him. It doesn’t have to be you, I tell myself over and over.

I’d love to see that dumb, cheery mask slip. I know it would give me a rush to see it replaced with hurt and confusion. If I thought there was any way it would make me feel better about myself, believe me, I’d have done it by now.

I feel a crazy sense of relief at the thought of Luke staying a virgin forever.

I was already hard. Fear made me harder. Hearing him telling me to touch myself has me so hard, there’s a real possibility of steel breaking through skin.

“Start stroking your dick again.” My hand moves of its own volition. Up and down. Frenzied. My mind is empty. Nothing exists except my dick. My hand. His voice.

Little do they know this guy is the product of a cinnamon roll and every breed of dog that has more than a passing interest in retrieving a ball.

We’re only fifty yards from the water. Sixty at most. The only thing stopping me from getting Gould in a headlock, dragging him to the ocean and liberally waterboarding him, is societal norms. I toy with the idea anyway.

“That’s quite the step bro situation you have there,” she says.

I love Izzy. She’s been one of my best friends since the eighth grade, but if she keeps calling Jessie Jess, I have a feeling we’re going to fall out.

I like the way he makes me feel good but to my surprise, I like the way it feels when he’s mean just as much.

A simple transaction, a base interaction that serves a purpose for both of us; he gets his V card punched and I get to punch it.

Our parents find out and both have a heart attack? They’re both fit and young, they have a lot to live for, they’d probably make it.

If it’s awkward, it’s going to be awkward as fuck. Not only that, it’s going to be awkward for the rest of our lives. The rest. Of. Our. Lives.

I’m going to leave Luke alone. It’s a mature decision, moreover it’s the right decision. There’s no doubt about that. I feel pleased and proud of myself. My resolve lasts for almost twelve minutes.

I unwrap the box. God, people who package shit like this are assholes. If they don’t know that horny people don’t have great fine motor coordination, what the hell are they doing in the business of packaging sex toys?

His hole is hungry. It must be ravenous, because he swallows the rest of the plug greedily, sucking it into his narrow channel, and pulling the base close to his body.

He leans back into the hand I still have on his neck. I press my fingers into the taut sinews I find there and inhale again. This time it hits me. I know that smell. Sea salt, fresh air, and something I want.

My dick is so engorged that if I cough right now, I’ll probably blow my load.

It’s one of those instances where it feels like I’m going to be just as surprised as anyone else by the next words that come out of my mouth, and that’s always a worry.

“You want to be soft? You want to have your emotions splayed all over your face, and when that’s not enough you want to go around telling everyone how you feel all the time?” “Yep.” “Seems fucking stupid to me.” “Spending your life scared shitless of admitting how you feel and getting hurt regardless doesn’t seem all that bright to me either.”

A terrible, sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, I’m sparring with someone in my own weight class. Not an equal exactly, but a competitor, nonetheless.

What if he’s not just a competitor? What if he’s something way worse? A worthy adversary

“Y-you waited?” “I guess so.” “Why?” He smiles, twisting his mouth up at the sides, making my heart beat out of my chest before I even hear his words. “’Cause I know what good feels like.”

My personal feelings about blow job etiquette have always centered around the strong belief that it’s a privilege to have your dick in someone’s mouth and you should act accordingly grateful.

He pulls back and looks up at me, then rubs his cheek against my shaft, first one side of his face then the other. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers. “I love your dick.”

“Congratulations, you have just received your first penis.”

“I want my cock inside you. Been wanting it for awhile. A long while. I want it badly. I want to be the first person to have you.”

“I’m gonna be your first. The one you remember. The one you never forget. That what you want?”

I know what he’s going to say before he says it. “Don’t say it,” I pant, but I’m already smiling. He’s Jessie, so of course, he does. “Congratulations, Blue. You’ve just received your first penis.”

“Oh, shit,” he gasps. “Don’t laugh. I’ll come.”

I become aware of Jessie’s fingers digging into my hips, as he floods my ass with a piping hot load.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, “spent and worn out. Boneless and brainless. Fucked for the first time.”

“Oh fuck, I wish you could see this. I wish you could see how you look. I wish you could see this pretty little virgin hole, bright pink and fucked out.”

“Jessie,” I whisper, barely able to raise my head off the bed, “you’ll hurt me if you pull away.”

“Don’t smile like that,” he grumbles. “Why not?” “’Cause it scares me.”

“Feels like my heart’s beating out of my chest when you smile at me like that.”

“This is it, Jess.” “Mmm?” “Right here, right now – this is what good feels like.”