No Longer His Stepson

I was in Gershwin's Pub drinking when Angelo happened to pop up. He was my stepfather, a guy whom I called "dad" for 20 short years, before he and my mother called it quits.

"Looks like you're having some fruity drink," he said to me as he approached.

The two of us hugged, for we hadn't seen each other in a couple of years, since his divorce. Angelo, a short Filipino guy, met my mother during my teen years. I didn't like him at first, for I felt he was trying hard to replace my father, and win me over. It took some time before I realized he was a genuine guy, and once he won me over, he meshed more with my mother to take her hand in marriage. Angelo was in the Navy, and deployed plenty, but always made sure my mother and I were always taken care of. He and I bonded pretty well, while my mother and him were tearing at the seams until they both called it quits. Angelo took a step back from his relationship with me despite telling me before he left, to call on him if I ever needed anything.

"The divorce hurt me bad, son," he told me as we were sitting side by side in the bar.

"But fate brought you here, so have a cocktail with me," I said to him.

He laughed at me for having a Screwdriver.

"Knob Creek. Straight, on the rocks," he said to the bartender.

The 61-year-old retired naval officer reconnected with me as if we never parted. We talked about my career as a police officer, and how he was looking to travel back to the Philippines for good.

"You found you a girlfriend yet," he asked, while I nervously took my final sip.

"Pop, I've got something to tell you," I stated.

"What? You're gay," he asked with a snicker, and a gulp of his drink.

I tried to study him, and kept silent as my way of saying "yes." He caught on as he was enjoying his drink, with his brown eyes getting big, and his head turning my way a second later.

"Get the fuck outta here," he said as he taken aback.

"All those little bitches you used to bring home to me and your mother. What's the matter?"

"What's the matter," I asked him as I burst into laughter.

"I've been this way for a while now. I just never shared it."

Thoughts ran through his head, as he tried to figure "where things went wrong." He took another look at me, and I was feeling uncomfortable, thinking he didn't accept me.

"I'm bi," he replied, as he caught me off guard.

He laughed, then asked for another round for the both of us, before sharing some things.

"Netta, your beloved mother of all 35 years of your life divorced me, after she found out," he added.

"She claimed she couldn't be married to a guy who was attracted to other guys."

He dropped a bombshell on me, for I truly thought of other reasons for their dissolution.

"Netta caught me talking in my sleep about a past guy," he added. "She questioned me, and from that point, the magic was gone."

The gray haired, thin mustached Angelo was my mother's biggest fan. He truly loved her, and I think she truly loved him, but my mother had her principles. We sipped our second round, and Angelo would become a bit emotional in the duration. This explained why he kept his distance from me, for he felt my mother told him why they split, and knew my allegiance to Netta was second to none.

"You can't even tell Netta we met up," he advised.

"And does she know about you?"

"100 percent," I replied, as I took a long swig of my drink.

I elaborated on how I didn't care what my mother thought of me. I had to live my life, and I reiterated that to the elder Angelo, for he felt he was somewhat "trapped."

"Pops, you gotta live your life," I told him.

The emotions went away when I changed the subject to talk about fishing.

"I missed having our outings on the water," he shared.

When he and I finally got on the same page, he took me fishing throughout the Hampton Roads area.

"Jordan Bridge, Northwest River, James River bridge," he said, as he rattled off all of our favorite spots.

He expressed the thought of us reuniting with my mother knowing, and I offered to drive wherever he wanted to go, just so I could be with the man who helped me become the man I am.

"I might not go back to P.I. now," he said as we both laughed.

We finished our drinks, then he paid the tab before we hugged, and agreed on a time to meet.

"Next Saturday. Pick me up from the house," he said before we went our separate ways.

That Saturday would come, and during the wee hours, I made my way from my apartment in Portsmouth, to his house in Virginia Beach. He was ready, dressed with his favorite fisherman's hat, along with a case of cold beer, and a cooler full of bait. We took the drive across the area to Suffolk, making our way to a spot on the Nansemond River, where we planted for a few hours. He cracked open a couple of beers, we toasted, then ran our lines into the water as we hoped for a few spot or croaker to take back home.

"I gotta tell you something else," he said. "I'm seeing someone right now."

He broke down Jeremy, a young, black guy, who looked familiar.

"He's a firefighter," he said to me.

It made sense as he and I probably crossed paths at public safety forums. Jeremy looked like a twink, but a handsome one, who took great care of his short frame.

"So you like 'em short," I joked.

He nudged me, but felt comfortable as we talked about men and dating.

"Pops, can I ask you something," I said.

"Anything Andre," he replied, as he took a sip of his beer.

"You a top or bottom," I asked.

He laughed as he looked towards the water. The skylight was arriving, and so he acknowledged it was a pause before answering my question.

"All bottom. You?"

"All top," I said as our eyes connected.

"Jeremy's verse, but he likes the way I perform on him," he added as he explained his current situation.

Angelo went into detail about sex for some reason, almost as if he felt he needed to explain things to me explicitly.

"You seek validation from me," I asked.

"Not at all, but I am comfortable having this conversation with you," he replied, as we carried on.

The more Angelo went into detail, the more of a freak I saw in this man, as he was no longer "Pops." Angelo hid desires while being with my mother, giving no hints, at least for me, that he would step out on her at his convenience. My line started pulling when I asked this one question:

"When's the last time you were penetrated?"

"Right after me and your mom split," he answered, as his line was also pulling.

We both reeled in decent, legal sized croaker, inspecting the fish before deciding to keep them, and place the pair in the bucket.

"Two years," I asked.

"Two years," he told me, as the night the divorce was final, he met a former Navy friends for drinks and sex.

"I don't put out as often as you may think."

"Didn't think so," I told him, before I began on my second beer.

The fish were biting while we were kicking back the brews. This was a bonding session like no other, for the beer allowed us to lay things out to dry regarding our lives.

"I'm single, and will probably remain that way," I told him as he asked about my relationship status.

"Still can't believe you don't like pussy," he quipped.

"No, pussy doesn't like me," I told him before he asked me to explain.

"I've had my share of women, and devoured them all, before planking and banking each one. I've fucked my good share since senior year of high school, and it got old."

"So a man's butt hole provides more gratification," he asked, before he started laughing.

"And a man's mouth," I said to him as I wasn't laughing.

I even started eyeing Angelo sideways, as he looked like he could be stolen from Jeremy for a night.

"So what you got planned after this," I asked.

"Jeremy just assumed his shift, so nothing at all," he replied.

He picked up on my vibe as the stepfather and stepson dynamic took a backseat.

"Why do you ask that," he wondered.

"Just thinking we could hang out," I told him.

"I think you wanna do more than hang out," he stated.

We decided to "dry out" since the sun was up. Where we sat was private property, a pier belonging to a friend of his, who offered it for whenever Angelo wanted to use it. Once the beer wore off, we gathered ourselves, the catch, and all the items, then headed back to my truck, parked nearby. I didn't start the engine right away, as we talked a bit more as he figured out I wanted to come over.

"You cross this road, there's no turning back," he advised.

I looked at him, and he looked at me before he rubbed my right knee with his hand.

"That might not be a bad idea," I said to him.

He looked around to see if anyone was watching us. He then ducked low to place his head between my thighs. I looked around, too, while feeling him unzipping my shorts right then and there.

"Sweet Jesus," he said, as I felt a draft one moment, then a wet mouth on my cock the next.

He admired how big my cock is, for it was between seven to nine inches, and thick. I became hard instantly while he slurped my manmeat.

"Angelo. Oh Angelo, man," I said as I ended up leaning my chair back slightly, so he could have more room.

He adjusted my steering wheel while his lips were caressing my shaft, then I felt my entire dick in his mouth with my tip being massaged by his throat.

"Guess you couldn't wait," I asked, as Angelo was giving me head right there.

I wasn't worried about getting caught despite where we were. It seemed secluded, and occasionally I looked over at other properties to see if we had spectators staring at my dark blue Chevy.

"People out here mind their business," he said to me, before letting his tongue lap at my balls.

"Goodness, son, you taste good."

I spread my legs a little as my shorts were now on the floor. He licked, and kissed on my inner thighs, then lapped his tongue at the area where my thighs, and balls met. Angelo savored every inch of all of me below the belt, stopping short of eating my ass, for he claimed he'd do that in a more private setting.

"Andre, son, look at all that precum," he said as he wiggled my hard dick.

The ooze was spilling everywhere, for he turned me on enough to have my dick drooling profusely. He wouldn't waste another drop of my sperm as he re-attached his lips to the tip. I was in disbelief to have my best cocksucker be the man I looked up to as a father. Angelo was relentless in pursuit of sperm, too. His skull was bucking as he bobbed back and forth, while slurping firmly as I felt out of my body. Angelo had me whimpering like a bitch from the way he sucked dick. My moans caused his ego boost, and so he began gently stroking my balls, to get me to cum down his throat.

"You gon' make me shoot right here," I warned.

"Fuck Angelo, don't stop."

I kicked my feet on the floor, and tried to wiggle to extend the moment of pleasure. I tried holding back, then I closed my eyes and began wailing as the cum shot out of me like a cannonball. Angelo kept massaging my nuts while his lips remained at the base of my stick. I tried pushing him off of me, but he was strong, and wanted to get every single drop before he raised his head.

"One thing about me, son. I won't waste any of it," he said after he finished.

He applauded me for having such good cum, and apologized, for he couldn't wait another second to get his mouth around this dick. I asked if he ever looked at me like this when I was younger, and he vehemently responded with a no.

"I looked at you as if you were my own," he admitted.

I pulled up my shorts, then we recollected what happened at the bar in Norfolk until now.

"I'm gonna want that black dick in my ass next time," he told me, before we drove off.

I was happy, and overly satisfied.