Funforhere

An Interesting Sight

–1–

"Well now, what an interesting sight this is!" I exclaimed. After all, how would you react if you came home earlier than usual to find your 13 year old stepson in the marital bedchamber, naked as the day he was born? That is, naked except for his mother's black garter belt and a pair of her silky black stockings.

"I… um… err…" Peter stammered, his face flushed.

"Do you… um… I mean, it's not exactly normal for boys to wear their mother's lingerie, is it Peter?"

"N-no Dad," he finally mumbled.

"Then, why are you doing it?" I asked insistently. "Does it… err… feel good, or something?" I went on when he didn't answer.

"Y-yes Dad." He was now blushing deeply and choking back tears.

"Is this the first time?"

"Y-no Dad."

"I see," I said, letting out a long sigh. And then I did something I hadn't wanted to do since I'd come into the room. I looked my stepson up and down. He was a bit taller than average for his age and his mother, my second wife, was a 'petite' woman, so the stockings were smooth on his legs. It was at that moment, and with that thought, that I noticed my cock was stirring.

Here I was, looking my 13 year old stepson up and down in his mother's black stockings and garter belt, and my cock was getting harder inside my pants by the moment. But first things first.

"Peter, I'm going to have to punish you for going through your mother's drawers." The double meanings made my manhood stir even more. "Bend over with your hands on the edge of the bed." He meekly complied. "Now put your head down," I instructed.

Moving round behind him, I raised my hand and brought the open palm down sharply on his bottom.

Slap!

He yelped and jerked, but stayed in position. In the four years that he had been my stepson I'd only had to spank him a few times, but those few experiences had taught him that while I wasn't a sadist I meant what I said. And that part of a punishment was staying in position.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! went my hand on Peter's bare bottom. By this time the skin had gone a light pink, and I could hear that he was sniffing back the tears. Enough, I thought, was enough. For now. Besides, the sight of the black suspender straps on his butt cheeks had given me another idea.

"Hmm," I mused, sitting on a chair by the window. "Peter, do you think your mother would go out without wearing panties?"

"Err… no Dad," he replied, blushing deeply again and sounding a little surprised by the question.

"Well then, how about you put some on." He looked even more surprised than he sounded. "Get out a pair of Mummy's lacy black panties and put them on. I'm sure you know where she keeps them."

"Yes Dad," he said in a strange tone. I watched as Peter opened a drawer, got out a pair of his mother's panties and tentatively held them up.

"Yes, they'll do," I said, nodding my head for emphasis. "Put them on."

After a bit of hesitation, and awkwardly balancing on first one leg and then the other, he finally managed to get the brief black lacy panties on and slowly pulled them up to his hips and over the suspender straps.

"Very nice." My cock was now quite hard inside my pants. "Would you mother go out without shoes?"

"Uh, no Dad."

"She has a very stylish pair of black high-heeled shoes. The ones she wears to the opera and the other formal dos we go to. I'm sure you know the ones I mean," I went on with a significant look. "I want to see you in them," I finished in a firm tone. The tone matched the state of my manhood.

Peter went to the wardrobe, got out the shoes (of course he knew where they were!) and put them on the floor. Holding onto the wardrobe door with one hand, he gingerly slipped his feet into his mother's four inch [10 cm] stilettos. They were just about the right size for his feet.

"Hmmm, very nice. Now let me see you walking in them."

After a bit of hesitation my stepson began to walk slowly up and down in front of me. He was a bit wobbly, but this was obviously not the first time he'd walked in the shoes. By this time my cock was beginning to throb.

"OK, now do you think that your mother would go out without a bra?"

"Um, no Dad. Do you want me to put one on?" he asked a bit nervously, his face still flushed.

"You're catching on son," I responded with a wink.

He opened another drawer and got out a lacy black bra. After looking at me and getting a curt nod, he slipped his arms through the shoulder straps. Then he pulled the ends of the other strap around behind his back and fumbled with the catch.

"Here, let me help you," I said, standing up and surreptitiously adjusting the front of my pants. Going around behind him I hooked the catch. "It looks a bit flat, doesn't it? What do you put into the cups?"

"Balled up socks…," he answered quickly, then stopped and flushed. The answer had been quick, so he'd done this before too.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I asked impatiently.

Opening another drawer, he got out two pairs of sports socks, balled them up and stuffed them into the bra cups. My wife didn't have a big bowsprit, so the bra was now nicely filled out.

"Well, that all looks very nice Peter," I said, smiling encouragingly as I sat on the bed again. My organ was not only hard and throbbing, but I could also feel the wetness of pre-cum on my skin.

"You look really sexy in your mother's things. Does it make you feel sexy to wear them?" I asked, looking significantly at the little bulge that had formed in the front of the black lace panties.

"Um, yes Dad", he replied after a moment, again blushing deeply as he saw where I was looking.

"That's good then, isn't it?" I smiled and winked. "It will be fun to do this another day, but your mother will be home soon and I think it would be a good idea to get out of her things, put them away carefully and get dressed."

"Yes Dad," he replied, a little smile on his face for the first time since I'd walked into the room.

I've always believed that shared interests are essential for establishing bonds between fathers and sons.

–2–

"Do you know what's wrong with Peter?" my wife asked one Sunday afternoon a couple of weeks later. "He's been like someone in a dream for weeks. He won't tell me, and I'm his mother!" As if that fact automatically opened up the lines of communication. My experience is that most teenage boys shied away from their mothers like they had the plague.

"Oh, it's probably just a stage he's going through," I replied, trying to sound wise. "Maybe he's got a crush on a girl at school. I mean, he looks healthy enough."

"Maybe. Have a good talk to him while I'm out."

"Out?" Was this something I'd forgotten about?

"Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. Jane Simpson asked me to do the Lions Head walking track with her." That explained the jeans, t-shirt and trainers - Cate was usually a stylish dresser. "I should be home by seven. Be a dear and make one of your divine chicken salads for dinner, will you?"

"Peter!" I said sharply from the living room doorway. "You haven't mowed the lawn like I asked."

"Uh, sorry Dad. I forgot." He'd barely glanced away from the TV.

"Sorry, are you? You WILL be sorry very soon! Get upstairs to our bedroom. NOW!"

He got to his feet, a look of surprise on his face, trudged up the stairs, made his way ahead of me to the bedroom, and stood there.

"You're going to be spanked Peter. Lower your shorts and underpants," I barked.

"But Dad I'm sorry," he pleaded, with a catch in his voice. "I'll go and do it right now."

"You'll do it later. First you'll be punished!" I almost shouted. That had the desired affect; he slowly unzipped his shorts and pushed them down his thighs. The underpants followed soon after when I glared at him. "Now, place your hands on the edge of the bed and put your head down."

He jerked and yelped in surprise and pain when my hand came down hard on his bare bottom.

"Hurt, did it?" I sneered. "Well, there's more to come, my boy."

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! went my hand. He writhed each time my hand struck his bare flesh.

"That was for being a naughty boy," I said, pausing for a moment. He was already snuffling back tears and the skin of his ass cheeks was a nice shade of pink.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! went my hand again.

By this time the palm of my hand was stinging a bit, and my cock had hardened at the thought of what was next.

"Alright," I said. "Now we'll have a bit of fun before you go and cut that lawn. Get undressed." He gave me a questioning look.

"Peter, I want you to take off your clothes so that you can put on your mother's lingerie. You still want to wear your mother's things for me, don't you"?"

"Oh. OK Dad," he replied after a pause, with a slight smile. He slipped off his shorts, underpants and t-shirt.

Under my direction he got out the black garter belt and stockings, lacy black panties and bra and the high-heeled shoes and slowly put them on. Two pairs of balled-up sports socks filled out the bra very nicely. Then I made him walk up and down in front of me where I sat in the chair. After a few compliments on how he looked he began to enjoy the role he was playing, looking at me almost coquettishly. By this time my cock was pretty hard, and I could see a small ridge beginning to form in the front of the lacy black panties.

"What's that bit of black on the floor in front of the chest of drawers?" I asked. Peter went over and picked it up.

"It's one of Mummy's silk scarves," he replied. "I must've accidentally dropped it when I was getting the stockings out."

"Bring it here," I ordered, an idea instantly leaping into my mind.

"Now, turn around with your back to me," I said, taking the piece of cool silky fabric from him and standing up. "Cross your wrists behind your back," I said softly.

"Dad?" he asked, a little nervously.

"Do what you're told," I hissed. He did, after a moment of hesitation.

"Good boy," I almost whispered as I wrapped the scarf around his crossed wrists a few times and tied the ends. "Now, parade for me again."

So it was that for the next 10 or 15 minutes I enjoyed watching my 13 year old stepson, his wrists tied behind his back with a black silk scarf and dressed in his mother's black lingerie, as he paraded for me. That was all that I could last, with my cock rigid and seeping pre-cum inside my clothes. What also excited me was seeing the small hard ridge in the front of the lacy black panties.

"Well, did you like having your hands tied?" I asked softly next to his ear as I untied the scarf.

"Yes Dad. It was… sort of…," he replied.

"Exciting?" I asked in almost a whisper.

"Y-yes Dad. Yes, it was exciting," he went on with what sounded like enthusiasm.

"Do you want to do it again? When Mummy isn't here, of course."

"Oh, yes. Whenever you want to Dad."

"Good. Only next time I'll tie you up properly. Would you like that?"

"Yes Dad. Whatever you want," he answered with a shy smile.

"Good boy. Now get back into your own clothes and go and mow that lawn," I continued, patting his cute lace-covered bottom. "Oh, and by the way, your mother thinks you've been acting like a man in a dream. Try acting something like normal or she'll have you off to an analyst or counsellor before you know it, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?" I added in a conspiratorial tone.

"No Dad. I'll try."

A shared risk can be a powerful bond between father and son!

–3–

"Enjoy yourselves, you two," my wife Cate said over her shoulder as she got ready to go out for a few drinks with a friend. It was a Friday night, nearly two frustrating weeks after the last little episode. In fact a perfect illustration of the old saying that a watched pot never boils. "What are you boys getting up to tonight?"

"Oh, err, we'll probably watch a DVD," I replied. "Won't we Peter?"

"Um, yes. Have a nice time Mum."

"Upstairs with you, my lad," I said to my stepson, after I'd allowed a good 15 minutes in case Cate came back for something. Which she didn't. I followed the boy's slim figure up the stairs after getting a small package that I'd hidden behind a loose panel at the back of the hall cupboard.

"Are you going to spank me first?" he asked nervously as I came into the bedroom.

"Why? Have you been a naughty boy?" I asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"No Dad. It's just that you did the last two times, and I just thought…"

"Spankings are for when you've done something wrong. All I want you to do right now is get undressed. OK?"

"Yes Dad," he replied, unzipping his shorts. "Do you want me to put on the same things?"

"Hmm. No. Let's have a change. Your mother has a very nice pair of silky white stockings with lacy tops. Get those, and I'm sure you know where they are, and then there's a matching set of lacy white bra, garter belt and panties. We'll finish off with, um, her white high-heeled sandals. Yes, that should look very nice on you." The thought began to stiffen my resolve, and it obviously excited the boy too. It wasn't long before he was dressed and parading up and down, obviously enjoying himself as he posed for me.

"Alright Peter," I said after a while, standing and adjusting the front of my slacks. "Come over here, turn your back and cross your wrists behind you." As he did what I asked I opened the small package and took out a few lengths of soft white rope. His eyes widened a bit, but he didn't say anything.

Taking the first length I wound it around his crossed wrists a few times, cinched it between them and finally tied the loose ends. This was actually the first time that I'd ever tied anyone up, and I was relying on what I'd seen on the net for technique.

"Is that OK?" I asked. "Not too tight?"

"No Dad, it's fine," he replied, with perhaps a little tremor in his voice.

The next rope, a lot longer, made a few loops around his body and arms just above the elbows and below the sock-stuffed bra. I cinched all the loops together between his arms and body and firmly tied the loose ends. It took me a bit of trial and error to get it right, but the final result was worth the trouble. The loops looked appealing on his body, and the sight made my cock throb.

"OK son?" I asked.

"Yes Dad, it's fine."

"How do you feel now?"

"Good. It feels really good," he added, in a slightly thick tone. A glance at his crotch showed a distinct ridge in the front of the lacy white panties.

"Alright, I want you to sit on the bed now," I said. Taking his arm I helped him to sit on the edge of it. I wound the next piece of rope around his crossed ankles a few times, cinched it between them and tied a good knot, taking care not to snag the white stockings. Two more lengths bound his legs in similar fashion, both above and below the knees.

Taking a few steps back I admired my handiwork. There was my 13 year old stepson, nice and firmly although not tightly tied up and in his mother's lacy white lingerie. It wasn't at all a bad effort for my first bondage session, although at the back of my mind was a vague idea that something was missing.

Almost without thinking about it my hand went down over the hard bulge in the front of my slacks and Peter's eyes followed. When I looked at his crotch I could clearly see the outline of his small cock in the front of the lacy white panties.

Then it hit me: I'd forgotten about a gag. Going to my own bedside table I opened the drawer and got out a handkerchief and an old scarf that I hadn't worn for a long time and came back over to the bed.

"Open your mouth Peter," I commanded.

He looked a bit uneasy, but did as he was told. I folded the handkerchief in two and pushed it into his mouth, then wound the scarf around his head a few times to hold it in, knotting it at the back of his head. It worked, but didn't quite have the look I wanted. A purchase at a shop selling highly specialised merchandise was in order.

"Are you OK son?" I asked. He nodded and made a few mummphs into the gag.

I let him sit there for a while, enjoying the feeling of my rigid cock seeping pre-cum inside my pants for a while as I looked at my bound, gagged and lingerie-clad stepson.

"How time flies when you're having fun," is an old saying, but all too true. A glance at the bedside alarm clock showed that Cate would be home in about an hour, so it was time to untie Peter and put everything carefully away.

Now that was surely a whole lot better than all of those phoney team bonding exercises at work I thought to myself, as I carefully put the ropes back in their hiding place.

–4–

During the week I'd made a secret trip to the discreet shop selling the highly specialised merchandise and found exactly what I wanted. Not only that, but I'd also made an undisclosed expedition to the intimate apparel and hosiery sections of a department store in a distant suburb. All I now needed was the opportunity to use my purchases, and that wasn't as long in coming (pun not intended) as I thought it might be.

"The community college is starting a course on art of the rainforest," said Cate one evening over dinner, "and I've enrolled. Do you mind?" she added in the closest I've ever seen her come to a plea.

"No, of course not," I replied in an interested tone. "I know you're how interested you are in that form of art, so why should I stand in your way? How long does it go for?"

"Eight weeks, with one three hour class from six to nine every Wednesday night. Oh, and the first class is tomorrow night," she added in an apologetic tone.

"Not a problem," I said expansively. "Peter and I know how to look after ourselves. We're big boys now," I continued, giving my stepson a confidential wink. He blushed.

It might have only been another 24 hours, but those hours seemed to go by on leaden feet. When Cate finally did leave I gave her another 15 minutes, got the things I'd need from the hidey hole in the hall cupboard and told Peter to go up to his own room.

"My room, Dad?" he asked in a slightly puzzled tone.

"Yes. During the week I bought a few things so that we won't have to use your mother's. It might be hard to explain how something got damaged or, um, dirty."

I'd developed a liking for following him up the stairs: it was stimulating to watch his slim ass move as he climbed them. "OK, strip," I ordered when we were in his bedroom.

When he was naked I got him to put on the matching ivory-toned bra, garter belt and panty set I'd bought, then the tan nylons. The last took a while to get right as they were seamed, but that time was well spent. He looked very sexy with the dark and slightly shiny material on his legs, with the seam straight and running from heel to top. When he craned his head to look at the effect in the mirror I saw his small cock become erect. Of course by this time mine had been that way for a while.

"Do you like how it looks Peter?"

"Yes Dad. It makes me feel…"

"Sexy?"

"Yes Dad. Sexy. And good. It's… um… hard to explain."

"I understand," I replied, smiling at him. "I'll just go and get your mother's white high-heeled sandals to complete the picture."

When I brought the shoes back he put them on and paraded up and down for me. I'm beginning to think that this is the part he likes most. I like it a lot too.

Opening the other bag I got out the ropes and the item I'd bought, picked up the short rope and got Peter to stand with his wrists crossed behind his back. Going up behind him I went to tie them together and my nose twitched…

"You've been smoking!" I exploded. He literally jumped at my voice. "Don't deny it! I can smell it on your breath!" I'd quit myself a several years ago, so my sense of smell was now much more acute.

"Well! What have you got to say for yourself?" I demanded.

"Nothing Dad. Sorry Dad. Won't do it again," he mumbled.

"I'll say you won't! And to make sure you're going to be punished. Right now!"

With that I stormed out of Peter's bedroom and stormed back in a few moments later with his mother's hairbrush.

"Dad, no… please, not with that," he pleaded, his eyes widening.

"Yes, with this! Hands on the bed, head down," I snarled. He reluctantly complied and I pulled the panties down off his hips.

Whack! went the flat of the hairbrush on his bottom.

"OOOWW," he shrieked, his body jerking. I'd swung it pretty hard.

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! went the hairbrush again, to a chorus of cries from my stepson.

"You've been told any number of times about not smoking, but you went ahead and did it!" I shouted. "You're a naughty boy Peter!"

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! to another chorus of shrieks and cries. He was beginning to sob with the pain.

"I'm doing this for your own good son. Smoking is bad for you."

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!

By this time the skin of his ass cheeks were red more or less all over. I made a mental note to myself to practice spanking on something so that I did it more accurately. An unevenly red bottom is not aesthetically pleasing.

"Alright, that should teach you a lesson," I said as I went to return the hairbrush to Cate's dressing table. "Now, where were we?"

"Ah yes," I went on after a pause. "It's bondage time. Stand there with your wrists crossed behind your back," I directed.

Picking up the first length of rope I used to to tie his wrists together, quite tightly this time.

"It-it's a bit tight Dad," he winced.

"Part of your punishment son," I replied in an offhanded tone. The next length of rope bound his arms to his body below the sock-stuffed bra. It too was tied fairly tightly.

Getting Peter to sit on the edge of the bed, which he did very gingerly, I also tightly tied his ankles and legs, both above and below the knees, being careful to avoid snagging the new new nylons. Standing back I admired my handywork, which looked much better this time. The loops of rope looked really good on his limbs and body.

"One final touch," I said, picking up the red ball gag , which I'd bought during the week.

"D-Dad, d-do you have to…," he trailed off, looking a bit nervous.

"Oh, goodness me yes," I replied. "It really wouldn't be proper bondage without a good gag, and a ball gag is about the best. Open up now, like the dentist says."

After a pause he reluctantly opened his mouth and I pushed the ball into it. Taking the staps I buckled them up at the back of his head, firmly but not tightly. Then I stood back again to admire the whole effect. And to enjoy the feeling of a really rigid hard-on. Glancing down I could see that his own small cock was making a definite ridge in the front of the panties.

"Can you breath OK?" I asked. He nodded.

"Alright, I'm going to leave you like that for the next half hour to reflect on why you have been punished." I heard a series of mummphs around the gag as I left the room. Anyway, I really needed to jerk off.

Right on cue I went back into Peter's bedroom and removed the ball gag. He gasped a few times and worked his cramped mouth. I left him tied up.

"Dad, please don't tell Mum that I was smoking," he pleaded.

That, I thought, was a reasonable request. Her own father was a heavy smoker and had died from lung cancer, so she was in the habit of taking every opportunity to condemn the habit. If Cate thought that her own son had been smoking she'd probably give him an endless series of long lectures. Long moralistic lectures can be harder to take than a good spanking. The thought crossed my mind that I could leverage on this, and my cock stirred again…

"I should you know," I pronounced magisterially. "After all, she is your mother and has your best interests at heart."

"Yes, but she'll… well, carry on…," he trailed off, obviously unwilling to add slander and insubordination to crime.

"Hmm," I mused thoughtfully, playing the part of man balancing one consideration against another. "You have been punished, and I'm sure that you've learned a lesson. Haven't you?" I went on, placing one hand on his head and letting it slide to the back of his neck.

"Yes Dad."

"I don't want to catch you smoking again Peter."

"No Dad, I promise."

"Good boy," I smiled. "In that case I don't think your mother really needs to know about this, err, lapse in behaviour." He looked relieved.

"In return, my little lady boy, you'll do whatever I want you to. Won't you?" I added, sliding my hand down his front and cupping it over the sock-stuffed bra cup.

"Yes Dad," he replied faintly.

I untied my stepson and told him to get out of the lingerie and into his own clothes, while I put my wife's white high-heeled sandals back where they belonged. Before going back downstairs I cautioned Peter not to let his mother see the rope marks on his wrists, arms, legs and ankles.

–5–

You know how it is. There are those jobs around the home that you put off for as long as possible, but all that does is to make them even worse. One of those jobs is to clean out all the old junk from the storage cupboards in the garage. Not a terribly hard thing to do, is it? Could it be that one really doesn't want to throw away the memories?

The time had come where it couldn't be put off any longer, so the following Saturday afternoon saw me pulling a whole lot of old stuff out and putting almost all of it into the boot and the back of the car for transport to the tip. Peter was busy (I hoped) weeding garden beds, while Cate was sorting through and re-organising the kitchen cupboards.

Now I was down to the last drawer, which seemed to be full of Jodie's school things. Jodie is my own daughter, now away at an interstate university studying marine biology. All the old books were no use, so they joined the rest of the stuff to be thrown out. The last item was a plastic bag, which turned out to contain her Year 10 uniform: white blouse, pleated skirt (which I'd always thought was far too short) and black Mary Jane type shoes. I put them all into the big bag for the charity clothing bin.

Ah. Wait a moment.

Was it possible?

As I examined the mental picture that formed in my mind I was sure that three years ago at 16 Jodie was about the same height and general size that Peter is now. The more I thought about it, the more sure I became that those three items would be a reasonable fit on Peter. Yes, the idea of the 'naughty schoolgirl' was very appealing. However I would need to buy another item from that shop…

Unfortunately I couldn't get to the 'toyshop' before Wednesday night, but a different scenario soon formed in my mind.

"Up to your room," I told Peter after his mother had gone off to her art course. On the way I collected the things I'd need from their hiding place. By the time I'd got to his bedroom he was already getting undressed.

"Put these on," I ordered, placing the bra, garter belt, tan nylons, panties and his mother's white high-heeled sandals on the bed. There were also some sports socks to stuff into the bra cups. It didn't take him all that long to get dressed, to our mutual delight.

"Ok, now put these on," I said, handing him Jodie's old school blouse and skirt.

"But Dad, these used to be Jodie's," he said after a few moments, blushing deeply.

"Yes, what of it?" I demanded.

"She's… she's my sister," he finally blurted out.

"Oh? She's really your step-sister, and in any case you had no problem wearing your own mother's lingerie. Did you?" I added in a slightly amused tone. "These are her outer clothes, not her intimate apparel."

"But Dad…"

"But nothing Peter. Put the blouse and skirt on now, or I might have to tell your mother about your smoking."

He looked a bit scared and then hung his head for a minute or two. After further urging from me he finally took the blouse and awkwardly slipped his arms into the sleeves. Still blushing and obviously reluctant, he slowly did the buttons up. It was a reasonable fit, although Jodie's breasts had not been as large as the sock-stuffed bra cups. This was definitely not a disadvantage!

"Now the skirt," I said, handing it to him. "The zipper goes on the left side of your waist."

Still reluctant and blushing slightly, he stepped into the skirt. I had to hold his arm to steady him on the high heels. Bending over, he pulled it up around his waist and after a bit of fumbling finally managed to zip it up and do up the catch at the waist.

"Ah yes. Very nice," I said, smiling encouragingly. "Now sit on the bed and cross your legs," I ordered. This produced a very appealing display of nylon-clad thighs, with more than a glimpse of stocking tops. My erection became rigid.

"Put your hands on the bed behind you and lean back," I said. He did, and with his back arched the socked-stuffed bra cups made very nice tight mounds in the front of the blouse. My cock began to seep pre-cum inside my underpants. I sat on the bed beside him, slipped my arm around his waist and turned his face towards mine with my other hand. He was looking at me expectantly, his lips slightly parted.

"Daddy…," he said faintly, after I'd kissed him softly and lingeringly on the lips.

Drawing him close to me, I began to kiss him hungrily, slipping my tongue in and out of his mouth. At first I could feel him trying to pull away a little, but after a little while I felt his body relax against mine. My hand cupped over the sock-stuffed bra, and as I slowly fondled it he pressed himself into me.

Moving my hand down, I placed it on his knee and slowly slid it up his thigh, over the lovely texture of the nylon. Further up my hand slid, under the skirt, right up his nylon-clad thigh. Over the stocking top my hand slid, across the bare flesh above them until it reached the legband of the panties. He drew a short, sharp breath when I ran the tips of my fingers slowly up and down the small hard ridge in the front of the silky panties.

Standing up, I took off my belt. Pulling Peter's wrists across each other behind his back, I used the belt to bind them tightly together. My cock gave another throb at the sight of the loops of hard black leather tight on his wrists. Sitting back down, I drew him close to me, kissing him hungrily while I fondled the tightly sock-stuffed bra through the blouse.

Laying him back on the couch, I unbuttoned the blouse and pulled it open, then fondled his 'breasts' again. Reaching down I bundled the skirt up around his waist, then groped and fondled his groin and ran my hand slowly up and down over the ridge in the front of his panties.

"Daddy…?" he asked as I unzipped and pushed my jeans down around my thighs. His eyes widened as my underpants followed them and my hot throbbing cock sprang to attention. The red and swollen head glistened with pre-cum.

Without answering I lifted the legband of the ivory-toned panties. Taking the head of my cock, I guided it under the legband, opened his legs with my knee and slowly lowered myself onto my stepson, my legs between his stocking-clad thighs. I let out a long and satisfied sigh as I felt the knob of my throbbing member slide up under the soft silky material and over his soft warm skin. It was just touching the side of Peter's small hard cock. Mmmm, it all felt good!

Pausing for a few moments to savour the sensations, I began to slowly move on him, sliding my hot, throbbing and rigid member between the silkiness of his skin and the panties. By this time I was so wound up that it didn't take long before my excitement mounted to the point where I couldn't hold back any longer.

With a series of low grunts and gasps I shot my load of hot, thick seed inside Peter's panties while he gasped under me. Again and again my hot rigid organ pumped it out, until my climax slowed and finally stopped. Sliding my cum-coated member out from inside the panties and sitting up again I could see a great wet patch in the front of them.

I fixed up my own clothes and then released Peter's bound wrists before putting the belt back on. As it was now after 8pm I told my still slightly dazed stepson to get into his own clothes.

–6–

By Friday, when Cate announced another girls night out, I still hadn't managed to get to the 'toyshop', but no matter. I had another scenario to play out.

After allowing the usual 15 minutes I urged my stepson upstairs to his bedroom, collecting the things I needed on the way. When I went into his bedroom he was already slipping out of his clothes.

"Put these on," I ordered, handing over the bra, garter belt, stockings, panties and and high heeled sandals.

"Are you going to… um… like last time Dad?" he asked.

"Just you wait and see," I replied with a little smile. "Now hurry up and get into these clothes." My cock was already rigid and throbbing at the thought of what I had in mind.

When he'd finished dressing I got Peter to parade up and down for a little for my benefit, before getting his wrists tied firmly together behind his back. Then I bound his arms to his body. After making him sit on the edge of the bed I firmly bound his crossed ankles, and then his legs, above and below the knees. I stood backing admired the sight of my stepson, dressed in lingerie and firmly bound.

"Are you going to gag me?" he asked timorously, his eyes on the red ballgag on the bed.

"Eventually," I replied, standing in front of him and unzipping my jeans. When I pushed them and my underpants down his eyes widened at the sight of my red, swollen and glistening member. "But first things first!" Moving right up to him I held the head of my cock out to his mouth.

"Daddy…" he said faintly.

"Yes my boy, you've guessed it! Open wide and take Daddy in your mouth."

"Please, do I have to?" He asked faintly, looking distressed.

"Yes, if you don't want Mummy to know about your smoking. Remember, you promised to do whatever I wanted." A clear drop of pre-cum had dripped off the end of my organ. "If you don't hurry up I'll spank you with the hairbrush as well," I added after a few moments.

He hesitated a few more moments, then tentatively opened his mouth.

"Wider," I commanded. Eventually he stretched his mouth wide open.

"Good boy," I said, slipping the hot and throbbing head of my cock between his lips. Moving my hips forward, I slid the head and a few centimetres of my swollen shaft into his mouth. Mmmmm, it felt good to have the warm wetness of his mouth close around my cock.

"Suck!" I ordered. His mouth didn't move, so I grabbed a handful of his hair.

"Suck me, you dirty little slut," I snarled, twisting it.

Peter gave a muffled moan, then began to suck on my member. Tentatively at first, then more and more as I tightened my grip on the handful of his hair. I could hear him slurping and half choking on the hot and throbbing organ that filled his mouth. The sight of his bound and lingerie-clad body excited me even more.

We've all read accounts of fellatio sessions going on for ages, but this one obviously wasn't going to break any endurance records. Anyway, what did I care: I wanted to come in his mouth. Simple as that.

And I did. Almost explosively, jerking my hips forward and my cock deep into his mouth as I shot spurt after spurt of my hot, thick semen down his throat. Of course, being his first time, he choked and gagged on the flood of spunk, and it was soon dribbling out of the corners of his mouth. I was about to try and force him to swallow my seed, but this was his first time and there'd be time yet to train my little girlie boy slut to do things like that.

"Ah," I gasped, sliding my slimy organ out of his mouth. "Not bad, but next time I want you to swallow. Do you understand?" I asked, reinforcing the point by twisting his hair.

"Y-yes Daddy," he finally managed to gasp.

"Good boy."

Fixing up my clothes, I got a damp washcloth and cleaned my stepson up. Then I picked up the gag, pushed the ball into his mouth and buckled it up firmly.

"Don't go away now," I said. "I'll be back in 30 minutes."

Not quite true to my word (it was nearly 40 minutes later) I returned, removed the ballgag and untied him.

The end?