Honeyboy
by Vicious SS

<< Back to Stories Index

My stepson Scott Hedges was a stunningly beautiful young man with golden hair framing a face with a seductive expression on it.

Born and raised in Tarzana, California, Scott was the son of a police officer and his half Cherokee wife Tiana. When Scotty was seven his father, Officer Brian Hedges, died after his car left the road and struck a building at Peterson and Elm while responding to a burglary in progress call.

I married his mother when Scott was eighteen and from the start he was very dis obe di ent to his mother and me…especially me. He told me I’m not really his dad and that I couldn’t tell him what to do and so on. He saw me as an interloper, and it really took some time to adjust to being a step-anything, be it parent or child, and the issue is complicated by the fact that he was at an age when he was just becoming a man himself. He had most of his mother’s attention until I came along.

But he needed a firm, but loving hand and I gave it to him. And we really got along for a good while.

In fact, I grew to really love that guy. By the time he was twenty I absolutely worshipped this beautiful boy from his flaxen head to his gorgeous toes. I even turned him on to foot love, and he came to love it every bit as much as me. Scotty was 6'1 160 lbs of slender-but-muscular man, with size 13 feet. He still had golden blond hair, emerald green eyes and a mouth that always seemed to show amusement through pinkish lips and straight white teeth. He knew I loved his feet, and he loved to tease and torment me right under his mom‘s nose. His feet were big and meaty and his second toe was a little longer than his big toe, and he had a very smooth and graceful arch on such a big foot. His feet were always a little cold, and they had a light sweaty fragrance, but far more pleasant than awful.

Scotty eventually married a woman named Helen Bridgewater four months after that shrew placed an ad online for a chef at the restaurant her family owned. he soon came to be known to family and friends as the new Francois Payard (world‘s most famous pastry chef), and he was renowned for his delectable honey-nut-cherry buns and gooey honey pies. he had a "come hither" look in his eye that beckoned many a neighbor and homesick traveler (male and female alike) into him warm, fragrant kitchen for him tasty offerings.

A tragic accident befell Scott in his mid twenties. While at our family gathering in Goldbluff Park, he accidentally upset a beehive with him whiffle ball bat. They swarmed and chased him through the park for about twenty minutes. As he was running for him life, he ran smack into a sycamore tree . . . never to be the same again.

My former stepson (I say “former” because his mom had left me by this time) developed a strange buzzing in him head, as he described it, which caused him to perform lewd acts in public, like pulling down his trousers in public and winking at strange men. Certain men around the town couldn't contain themselves. Helen had to keep him indoors for the rest of him days, where he continued to make large batches of delectable honey-nut-cherry buns and gooey honey pies. Helen, at work from dawn to dusk, never knew that Scott kept his "the back door to his kitchen" wide open throughout the day. And, quite strangely, throughout the town, an unusually large number of men walked the streets. . . salivating.

Finally his wife placed her man-slut husband in my care. Unfortunately this did little to deter Scott from his ways.

In fact it only took having him in my home three days before I was sucking his sweet toes and doing all the things I hadn’t done when he was related to me by marriage.

It all began so fast too…

I had just come home from work and went in to see how he was doing. I found him sprawled naked across him bed and beaconing me with his eyes. He looked seductively at me and said, "Don't laugh at me, but I’ve been dreaming about fucking you all day."

I told him, "Now let’s not have that kind of talk."

Scott replied, "I’ve rubbed my dick raw thinking about you out fighting fires. Do you still do that? Respond to fires with the other men at the station? Or do you just work behind a desk now that you’re a sergeant?"

"Scotty," I said, my penis stiffening almost instantly. "Don’t do this."

When I stood back he leaned back on the bed and began teasing me with his big bare feet--lightly rubbing the top of his foot over the bulge in my pants. Eventually I seized the other foot and began to lick the sole wildly. I sucked his toes, moving my tongue between them and getting the sweet taste of each toe. I licked hungrily under Scott’s toes, inserting my tongue between the undersides of them. He giggled, indicating the very ticklish spots. My tongue darted wildly around the bottoms of his perfect digits, savoring the slightly salty taste. Then I shifted to his arch and he giggled. His size 13 feet were so soft and smooth. I kissed the tips of his toes, sucking each one individually. He uttered a barely audible moan in appreciation of my ministrations.

Placing all five toes into my mouth, I slid my tongue over, under, and between them, sucking them fervently.
"Ohhhhhhh . . . " he said.

My dick was rock hard and bulging tightly in my pants. To get a little more comfortable I freed it from my pants and sat on the end of the bed. As I put his big feet in my lap--and continuing to tend to them with my lips and tongue--Scott looked down at my throbbing tool, smiling with satisfaction. I sensuously massaged and licked his size 13 feet; he started stroking his own penis.

As I lifted one foot to my lips to suck his toes, him other foot was in my lap and was dutifully teasing my throbbing cock. My former stepson rubbed his sole slowly back and forth over the bulbous tip, sending chills through my unit as I dutifully made oral love to his other foot. He ran his foot back and forth over the underside of my dick and teased the glans and head with his toes. From the way his toes glided over my dickhead, I knew they were getting wet with my pre-cum. So I lifted his foot from my lap and sucked his perfect, wet toes . . . tasting the slightly salty juices that had dribbled from my engorged penis.

I suddenly leaped on the bed, pulled him across my lap and smacked him on the ass, hard.

"Hey!" he pulled away and sat up. "Don’t do that!"

"Why the fuck not? This is what you’ve been practically begging for!"

He drew back his fist to punch me but I caught his wrist as I grabbed him around the waist. Then I turned him so that his back was pressed against me as I held both of my hands crossed over his chest.

"You fucking tease!" I spat, truly enraged. “You give it up to some stranger you seduce on the street, but when you make your own step-dad hot it’s all just some kind of a cruel game?”

Scott was nervous as hell, and even though he tried to pretend that he was unfazed, when he reached for a cigarette ... an action indicating nervousness in itself ... his hand was shaking. I knew this gorgeous man-slut wasn't going to be able to light that cig on his own, so I clicked my own lighter and held it out to him.

The twenty four year old hesitated for a moment, and then held his cig to the proffered flame. I unexpectedly tossed away the lighter and brought up a pair of handcuffs (they‘d actually belonged to his deceased biological cop father), grabbed Scott's arm and twisted it up. I then clapped one of the shackles around Scott's wrist. My ex-stepson’s bright green eyes went wide with panic stoked by a brain reeling with consternation, and he tried to pull away. I went with the motion, wrenched the uncuffed arm up behind him back. Then I frog marched that bitch across the bedroom.

"Hey, you can’t . . . " Scott said.

I pushed the slut front-first against the wall. "Shut the fuck up."

"Get your hands off me!"

“Are you going to tell me that you don’t like this? That this isn’t getting you hot?”

He smiled. “I’ve wanted this for years and years,“

“I thought so. Now shut up and play along…you’re ruining the illusion.“

Scott pretended as if he was a virtual ball of dismay. He cried out as I yanked his pants down to his big, gorgeous bare feet. "You can't fucking do this, Papa--"

But I did it. We had the time of our lives.