These are true stories of experiences by my stepdaughter being raped by her first stepfather.
Raped By My Step Dad - Part 2: The Hand Job
Dear Readers: If you haven't read part 1, please do so to better understand how and why this is being written. These are true stories of experiences by my stepdaughter being raped by her first stepfather. They are written from her point of view.
It had been a couple of weeks since the episode when my step dad Bob and I were out collecting rocks and I had to hold his penis so that he could pee. It didn't seem strange to hear Bob's voice calling me to the garage.
"Megan, come here please," he called out to me. I followed the voice and found him in the garage next to his workbench. When I walked over to him he asked, "Do you remember when you had to help me take a pee?"
"Yes," I replied hesitantly. I sure didn't want to do that again.
"Do you remember how hard it got at the end, when you put it back in my pants?" He was referring to his erection.
"Yes, I remember." The memories came flooding back.
"That was because of you, because of your touch," he continued. "It felt so good when you touched me, when you wrapped your hand around my dick. I didn't tell your mother on you, that you touched me to help me pee and that it was you that made me so stiff."
"If you have to pee, can't you just use the bathroom?" I asked. I didn't want to hear this, about him getting stiff. I certainly didn't think I had done anything to make him that way. I didn't remember doing anything.
"I don't have to pee Megan. I want you to touch me like you did. I want you to wrap your hand around it like before. You have already done it once so it's OK. You won't get in trouble. I won't tell anyone, I promise."
I was thankful of that. But I didn't want to do it. "I don't want to touch it," I pleaded. He put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down to my knees.
"I'm not touching it," I said with finality. Without saying a word he reached over on the counter and picked up a hammer. "Please," I cried, tears starting to flow down my cheeks. Just for a moment I thought he was going to hit me.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he told me. "Just undo my jeans and pull them down."
I was afraid. I guess I didn't think he would really hit me with the hammer but him holding it scared me anyway. I did as he asked. I undid his jeans and pulled them down to his ankles.
"Now the underpants," he added. As I pulled them down his penis fell forward towards my face. I jerked back out of the way. It was stiff and rose out and upwards. With his midsection now nude in front of me he said, "Wrap your hand around it, like you did before." I hesitated. "Do it," he barked.
I took my right hand and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. My thumb didn't quite reach my index finger. As soon as my hand was on it he took his hand and wrapped it around mine. He slowly moved his hand up and down the length of his shaft. "Keep doing that," he said as he let go with his hand. Again I hesitated but as he moved his hand over towards the hammer I began doing what he asked. With a firm grip I moved his skin up towards the end so that it covered the head of his penis and then back down so it made the head bulge out tight looking. "Yes baby, that's it, perfect. Keep it up. You're doing great. Just a little bit faster now. Yes."
He kept encouraging me and as sick as it made me feel to be doing this, I also felt good about his praising me. Whatever I was doing to him I liked being told that I was doing it well. Though I didn't know it at the time, it was all part of the way he tricked me, manipulated me.
"Faster now Megan, just keep going faster. Yes, baby yes." He was breathing heavy and leaning his head back when he suddenly grabbed my hand again, around his penis, and his other hand grabbed my wrist. Just then his penis blasted out a gooey white cream right into my face. He was slowly moving our hands up and down his shaft as his penis kept shooting out what I found out later was cum. I got hit full force with the first two shots and managed to move my head so that the rest went into my hair and onto my shirt.
Then he let my hand go. "Oh Megan, that was wonderful. I knew you would be a natural at this. You were fantastic."
God I hated what he made me do and yet with his praise I smiled inside, happy that I was so good at something. When he let go of my hand I fell backwards, trying to wipe off his cum from my face. "Can I go now?" I asked.
"Yes of course," he said as he waved me away. "Go get yourself cleaned up before your mother catches you looking like that. And don't worry, I won't tell on you."
I hoped that was the last time I would ever have to do that but this gnawing feeling inside said otherwise. I was all mixed up. I couldn't tell my mom without getting in trouble. I didn't want to do it again, and yet my step dad said I was good at it. Do boys like that sort of thing? Would that make me popular? I didn't know what to think about it all.