#photo prompt

promptly-written:

Promptly-Written Photo Prompt:Lacing Up

Photo credit: Unknown

promptly-written:

Promptly-Written Photo Prompt:Sagittarius Club

Photo credit: Dwarkan

promptly-written:

Promptly-Written Photo Prompt:27/2/21

Photo credit: Stephanie Noritz

promptly-written:

Promptly-Written Photo Prompt:Start 

Photo credit: Arthur Chang

promptly-written:

Promptly-Written Photo Prompt:From the well

Photo credit: michel nguie

promptly-written:

Promptly-Written Photo Prompt:City of Clouds 

Photo credit: Daniel Cheong

yeahstr82gay:

Vacation over.  Back to school.  Trudge, trudge, trudge.

The sand under my feet seemed to push back as I trekked across the beach, leaving me with the ridiculous notion that the beach and I were locked in a struggle.  More to the point, my heart struggled against another summer done.  I’d seen 40 summers so far, and my oldest kid had already seen 12.  Like sands through an hour glass, the old soap opera sang in my head.  I pushed the ascendant thought down, squashing it under my toes.

“Hey.”

His voice startled me, and I jerked my head too quickly, like a frightened horse.  “Oh!  Hey!”  I blushed furiously.  It was Todd Davis from Huntingdon Farms, husband of Heidi, father of four.  I knew, because I’d been creeping on him as discretely as possible since arriving here and had finally figured out who he was on the guest list.  We’d said hello exactly once, at the dune buggy hut, as we both reserved buggies for ourselves and our kids.  

“Nice evening.”  He smiled pleasantly, his eyes steady, his hands shoved in his pockets.  An ocean breeze made his tank snap invitingly against his abdomen.  I tried not to look and suppressed that damn girlishness that always seemed to get the better of me around good-looking men.

“Yeah!  Haha! It sure is!”  Fuck.  Calm down, Erickson, I told myself.  “It’s a beautiful evening.”

He turned and glanced at the sun, nodding.  I let my eyes dribble over his profile, slender, masc, perfect.

“Yeah,” he said.  “Hate to leave it.”

“Yeah.  So are you heading home tomorrow, too?”

He nodded again.  “Yeah.”  He turned and held out his hand.  “I‘m Todd. Todd Davis.”

The touch of his palm–I tried not to hold his hand too long.  I’d shoved all these feelings deep down into my gut for 28 years, and I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself now.  Even if I would gladly be a fool for him.  “Brent Erickson.  From Maywood.”

I blushed again, realizing, or perhaps just fearing, that I had just outed my prior knowledge of his hometown by not specifying our state.  His eyebrows popped up in perfect semi-circles of surprise.

“Oh!  Maywood, Michigan?“

“Oh! Hahaha!  Yeah, yeah, I should have said the state–yes, Michigan.  And where are–” 

“We are, too!”  We, he said.  The prefect family man.  I little kernel of sorrow in my gut blossomed.  I should be like him.  I wanted to be like him.  I wanted him.  “Huntingdon Farms!”

“Wow!  Ha!  Not that far!”  Smooth, Erickson, my mind scolded.  Next you can observe that the beach is sandy or that the ocean is big.

“Well, that’s cool,” he said.  He turned to look at the sun again.  Half of it now swam in the waves.  I looked at his ass.  Round, tight, a perfect half-sun of studliness.  I looked up.  He was staring at me.

“Oh!  Sorry.  What?”  I stuttered.

“I said, ‘Are your wife and kids down at the bonfire, too?’“

“Oh! Haha!  Yeah!  Yeah, they are!”

“Our families seem a lot alike.”

Now I stared at him.  He’d noticed and observed my family.  Yet I never remembered observing him observing us.  But he had.  He had.

“Yeah–yeah, they do! I think our boys are about the same age.”

“My oldest is 13.”

“Yeah!  Mine is 12.”

“Cool.  Maybe they’ll face each other in football some day,” he grinned.

“Haha!  Maybe!”  I felt as though every word I spoke was inane.  “He wants to be a kicker.”

Todd nodded.  “Yeah, mine wants to be a quarterback, but I dunno.”  He chuckled quietly, reaching over a shoulder to scratch his back.  My eyes melted into his skin.  He must work out.  No working man could afford this trip.  Right?  He must work out.  I want to kiss your nipples, I thought. I looked up and saw him staring at me again.

“Oh! Hahahah!  Sorry, my, uh, my mind was on something else.  What did you say?”

He grinned a moment before continuing.  He coughed, his voice low.  “I said, ‘Do you play?’“

My skin seemed to stretch tight, and my stomach jumped.  Do I play?  Holy fuck.  Was this happening?  I blinked several times and wet my lips before answering.

“I–I never have, but–but I’d like to.”  I spoke quietly and stepped closer.  “You–you do?  Heh?”

He tipped his head back slightly, still smiling but holding me in a reserved, curious gaze.  “No, not any more.  Too old even for those dad leagues.”

I spluttered a laugh.  “I don’t think you’re too–”

“I mostly just coach now.”

I froze.  He coached?  Coached … .  Fuck! 

He was still talking about football. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck!  I tried to recover and spluttered something about busy schedules.

“Yeah.”  He twisted away from me, pivoting on his feet.  “Tell me about it.  I should probably head back so I’m there for bedtime with the little ones.”

“Right.  Yeah.  Me, too.”  My cheeks blazed.  I wanted to die.

“Nice talking.”  He started to trudge away.

I closed my eyes briefly before stepping forward.  “Yeah.  Yeah, nice to meet you.”

“See you back home, maybe.”

I snapped my head around, hope fluttering in my stomach.  He was walking backwards, smiling at me.  He waved.

“Todd Davis,” he called.  “I work at Myers & Van Denk Design.  Give me a call.”

I waved, smiling too broadly.  “I will.  Safe travels.”

He turned and walked away, his calf muscles beautiful in the sun.  Would I call him?  I didn’t know.  But suddenly, 40 summers didn’t seem so long. 

maturedadsandmen:

destinfriends:

SEXY ALPHA MALE DILF, I BET HE IS A GREAT LOVER…WOOF !!

My last Destinfriends reblog…  :(

For those of you guys out there reading this, who have someone in your life - outside your family - that you always fantasize about, but have convinced yourself you don’t have a shot in hell with, here’s a story that might inspire you.

I’d always had a huge crush on my next door neighbor, Jeff Miller.  It seemed to me that he was trapped in a loveless marriage.  He and his wife always seemed to be arguing about something or other.  During the all-too-infrequent times we’d shoot the shit over the fence separating our backyards, he seemed like a really decent, down-to-earth guy.  Then again, maybe the fact that I wanted the two of us to bone was clouding my judgment.  When we’d talk, there was always a sparkle in his eyes and an enthusiasm and excitement about him.  Jeff had charisma for days.  It was easy to see why his wife was attracted to him.

But, as the months went by and his increasingly “cold war” with his wife raged on, I saw that light flicker out little by little.  Genuinely worried about the guy, but not wanting to stick my nose in where it didn’t belong, I told him on a couple different occasions that, if he needed to talk - or just needed someone to listen - all he had to do was knock on my door.  I’d see Jeff occasionally out in his yard or when one of us was on the way to our from our cars.  But we never did anything more than wave politely and smile.  Then, one day about a month later, I arrived home from work.  I’d barely gotten the car turned off when the neighborhood busybody, Gladys Phillips, came tapping on my car window, excitement in her eyes.

We exchanged hellos and had a little small talk.  But I could tell she was practically shaking with excitement and I knew there was obviously some sort of neighborhood gossip she was dying to share, so I finally put her out of her misery.  “What’s new, Gladys?”

Breathlessly, she proceeded to tell me how a moving van had pulled up outside the Miller house earlier this morning and men had been carrying stuff out of the house until mid-afternoon.  Then she saw Jeff’s wife carrying a couple boxes to her car before driving off.  All I really wanted to do at that point was to check on Jeff.  But before I could extricate myself from my conversation with Gladys, I had to engage in about 15 minutes of speculation of what was going on and why it had happened.

Not even bothering to go inside and change out of my work clothes, I walked across the yard and knocked on Jeff’s front door.  It took him a couple minutes - and a few times of me knocking - to come to the door.  When he did, he stood there, shirtless in just a pair of boxer-briefs, with disheveled hair, holding a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s in his hand.  I had to pry my eyes away from his salt-and-pepper hair covered chest and the sizable pouch in his underwear to look at him in the face.  “Jeff, I just heard about what happened.”

“Yeah.  I figure Gladys has told the whole neighborhood by now.  Come to rub my nose in my failed marriage, Ted?” I could smell the liquor on his breath.  Something told me the bottle he was holding might have been the second one he’d broken open since his wife left earlier that day.

“Is that what happened?  Did Doreen leave?”

“Yeah, she finally had enough.  Packed up all her stuff and high-tailed it out of here.  She’s gonna file for divorce.  It’s over.  Finito!  Sayonara!  Arrivederci!   Hasta la bye-bye!”  He was slurring his words horribly and had to lean against the door frame to keep from falling over.

“I would never come over here to rub your nose in something like this, Jeff.  We’ve always been buddies.  I came over to check on you…see if you needed a shoulder to lean on or someone to talk to.”

“I’m fine, Ted.  I just need to be alone right now.”

“You don’t look fine.  And I’m not sure being alone is what’s best.”

“Listen…  I appreciate your concern.  And if I need you, I’ll come knocking.  But right now, I just want to be alone with my thoughts.  You can understand that, right?“

“Sure.  Of course…”  I wasn’t sure he should be alone in the state he was in.  But I certainly didn’t have any right to barge into his house and demand that he let me keep him company.  So, I patted him on the shoulder, supportively, and headed back over to my house.

Over the next several weeks, Jeff was a wreck.  He behaved much of the same way I found him the day that his wife left.  Like a good neighbor, I checked in on him, started bringing food over for him to eat to make sure he wasn’t starving, and kept offering to be a sounding board for him, if he needed it.  Of course, he never actually took me up on the offer.  But he seemed appreciative nonetheless.

A couple months after Doreen left, I stopped by to check on Jeff.  When he answered the door, I could tell something was different.  He wasn’t drunk, for one thing.  For another, didn’t look quite as unkempt as he’d been looking.  And, he actually invited me in.  We sat and talked for a couple hours.  “I think I might finally be ready to get my life together,” he said to me at one point.  “I’m not sure that there’s even anything out there for me, at this point.  Starting over at my age is scary as hell.  But I’m damn tired of sitting alone in this house day after day, drinking my sorrows away.”

From then on, things got better for Jeff.  He started being more social.  He cleaned himself up.  And he even got back to doing yardwork and gardening in his backyard.  I even started to see traces come back of that sparkle in his eyes that had disappeared around the time he and Doreen started having trouble.  I started spending a lot more time with Jeff, too.  We were both single guys who had a decent enough amount of things in common.  At first, I did it because I wanted to help lift his spirits as he tried to get his life back in order.  My crush on him had taken a definite backseat.  Of course, I still found myself attracted to the man.  But, spending time with him wasn’t because I was angling to get him out of his clothes.

One day, I arrived home and, right after I pulled into my driveway, a man on a motorcycle came roaring up the court and pulled into Jeff’s driveway.  “What in the hell is THIS all about,” I thought to myself.  I got a shock when the man pulled his helmet off to reveal it was actually Jeff…decked out in a leather jacket and leather gloves to match!  I walked across to his driveway.  “A new bike, man?  What brought this on?”

He beamed like a proud father as he ran his hands over the chrome and body of the bike.  “You like her, Ted?  I saw her at the dealership yesterday and I knew I had to have her.”

“I didn’t know you rode…”

“I’m a man of mystery, Ted, my friend.  I’m a man of mystery.  he laughed.  “Actually, I haven’t ridden in almost 25 years.  I stopped shortly after Doreen and I married.  She said no self-respecting married man should be traipsing around on a motorcycle like he’s a teenager trying to relive his youth.”  The mocking tone he used when he recalled what she’d said to him told me that anything involving Doreen was still a sore spot.  “So, I stopped riding for her.  I stopped doing a lot of things for her.  But that’s all done with!  Now that I’m starting my life over, I’m doing what I want to do.”  By now, he had walked his motorcycle into his garage and we had made our way to his front door.  After he unlocked it, he turned to me.  “Come in for a minute, Ted.  There’s something I wanna show you.”

I had to will my cock to stay down in my pants.  Seeing him in that leather jacket and jeans sent my hormones racing.  “I’m glad you’re getting back into the swing of things, Jeff.”

“Me too,” he grinned.  “And It’s all because of this!”  He held up an envelope with one hand and patted it with the other hand.

“What’s in there?”

“It was waiting for me when I got home from work yesterday.” he opened the folder and pulled the paperwork part of the way out.  “Signed divorce papers from Doreen.”

“Wow!”  I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder.  “Are you okay, Jeff?”

He exhaled.  “Are you kidding?  I’ve never been better.  I’ll admit, there was a part of me that - at one time - wanted my marriage back.  No matter how bad things had gotten between us at the end, I wanted her back.  And I hoped that we’d eventually work things out.  But now that I’ve finally started living my life again, she and I being free from each other is all that I really want.  You’ve been an instrumental part in helping me rediscover my life, so I thought you’d like to be here when I sign the papers.”

“Sure.  If that’s what you want.”

He pulled the papers all the way out, went to the last page, and signed them.  Then, he pulled out the return envelope, put the papers inside and sealed it.  Afterward, he exhaled deeply again.  “Damn, that’s a weight off of my shoulders!  Been a long time coming!”  He reached over and patted me on the back.  “I’m a free man, Teddy my man!”

“Congratulations doesn’t seem like the right word to use.”

“The hell it isn’t!  Congratulations are most definitely in order.  I feel like celebrating!”

I started walking toward his refrigerator.  “You want me to grab us a couple beers?”

“I’m not talking about that kind of celebration, Ted.”

“Oh?  You want me to take you out to dinner to celebrate, my treat?”

“Naaaaaahhhhhh.  I’ve got something different in mind.”

My curiosity was piqued.  What other way was there to celebrate such an event.  “Okay.  How do you want to celebrate?”

“By doing something I haven’t done in years.  And I think, in the process, I’ll be giving you something you’ve wanted for a while too.”

“What’s that?”

Jeff had a gleam in his eye.  “Don’t play coy with me, buddy.  I know you’ve had a thing for me for a few years now.  Trust me.  Knowing that got me through some pretty rough times before and after Doreen left.  It feels good to know that, when you’re at the lowest point you can ever be at in your life, there’s someone out there whose motor you get running.”

“So, I take it you’re not disgusted?”

“Hell no!  I’m flattered!  And it’s time that I pay you back for all the ways you’ve helped me over the past few months.”

“That’s not necessary, Jeff.  I didn’t do it looking for anything in return.”

“Teddy, sometimes you can be really thick, you know that.  Let me spell this out for you.  I’m looking to pay you back for being so good to me…not with money.  Not with a fancy dinner or any kind of present.  I’m looking for us to get out of these clothes and see what we can do about it once that’s happens.”

And that was the start of Jeff and I.  Things progressed pretty slowly.  That first night, I blew him and he blew me.  But pretty soon, we were fucking on a regular basis.  It was certainly unconventional, but before long, I was downsizing and preparing to rent out my house so that I could move in with Jeff.

top4jock:

It was not an unusual story. Ben left for college, and his parents got a divorce. He sensed it was coming, but he was still mad at both of them. When his freshman year ended, he had no home to go back to. His parents had put the house on the market, and when they were packing everything, they found a few things he should not have left behind. They knew about the 24 inch dildo his uncle got for him as a gag gift when he turned 18, so it did not surprise them when they found that in the bottom drawer of his dresser. The card they found in the same drawer with the dates and lengths he had taken in his ass and throat were a surprise. So were the love letters he had received from two of his teammates indicating that the three of them had been sexually active. They were not only surprised at the sexual activity, but they did not even realise kids still wrote notes on paper.

His father had moved into a small, one-bedroom apartment far from where he grew up. His mother moved in with her sister and her family. Neither really had room for him when he was out of school for the summer. The uncle that had given him the dildo called me. We had been friends in college, and I had actually introduced him to his wife. He had told Ben’s parents the dildo was meant to be funny, but he correctly sensed Ben might actually appreciate it. I lived not far from where Ben grew up, and he thought I might be willing to let his nephew spend the summer with me.

I had no intention of fucking Ben, but he was relentless. He would come into my room at night and beg me to let him suck my cock. Most of the time he spent at the house he was in a swim suit or less. He would tell me that although his high school friends were still fucking him while I was at work, he wanted a real man inside him. Eventually, I gave in and started using him, fucking his throat and ass whenever I wanted them.

Now it was time for him to head back to school. He was not looking forward to it, and had tried to get me to let him stay with me instead. I knew his uncle would be furious, and rightly so, if I allowed that. He only gave in when I promised he could come back at Christmas and next summer. I made the offer contingent upon his grades being good enough. He promised to bring me an excellent transcript.

yeahstr82gay:

Somewhere along the way, I absorbed my father’s conviction that summer is over by August.  He was a teacher, and so he was already thinking about his new classes by then.  That preoccupation of his would brood over any family trip taken in that month and only intensify my own foreboding of another school year, filling August with a faint sorrow for lost time that most people only have to suffer on Labor Day weekend.  I always looked forward to being rid of that feeling as an adult, but I think it’s only gotten worse.  First, there’s my own kids, heading off to school every year, with all the challenges they have to face; and then there’s our yearly trip to Michigan with Patrick and Tiff.

We all went to college together.  My wife, Laura, and Tiff were roommates, and Patrick and I belonged to the same musical fraternity–yeah, I know, it sounds gay already.  But it wasn’t: we musicians can guzzle beer and seduce women with the best of them (do you know a woman who doesn’t melt a little at a deep baritone?), and I seem to recall Patrick getting cheered once as he carved a notch in the Woody (don’t ask).  But like any gathering of men, it had its undercurrents, and one of them ebbed and rolled in my heart for Patrick.

Trick, that’s what they called him–“Trick and Tiff,” when he first started dating her.  Now he’s a project manager with three kids and a tattoo he regrets–somewhere, after marriage and before kids, he found religion, of all things.  I mean, Laura and I go to church, too, but I don’t think it would make me feel badly about a tattoo.  But then, we’re Catholic, and he’s some kind of evangelical-Bible-something-or-other.  It makes him hotter, on some days, to look at him and see the strong, upright family man whom I once blew in May 2005.

I don’t think he actually remembers it, and I did not record it on the Woody.  He was as drunk as hell, and I was perfectly sober.  He called me “Lyssa” once as I was sucking him, and to this day I wonder who Lyssa was and when she got on his cock.  Lucky cow, for him to remember her like that.  He came from some small town in Ohio, and I figure she was from there–the one who got away, maybe.  Who knows.  I once almost asked Tiff, on one of our trips, as Patrick and Laura and our kids were in the surf, if she knew a Lyssa, but then I thought: the answer might be “yes,” and she may not appreciate thinking about her. So I kept my mouth shout, just as I never talked to Patrick, ever, about blowing him.

He tasted like coffee, which was strange and endearing at the same time.  I only blew two other guys in my life, Nathan Blechman in high school and some dude my freshman year at college when I was only a little tipsy, and they both tasted like detergent.  But Patrick was all richness and cream–and yes, I loved him, and I love him still.

I’m not sure what kind of love it is, but it feels a lot like August to me.  Maybe it’s just because I always see him every August now–and honestly, it’s mostly the wives who make it happen; Patrick and I hang out and have fun, but it’s mostly as fellow dads and for the sake of a remembered brotherhood than anything else.  He mostly talks about some men’s Bible group he attends in Maple Grove; I still sing in a band of other loser-dads on some weekends, just for fun, but he’s given up music entirely it seems.  The point is, we don’t have a lot in common anymore, and  he doesn’t even know that we once did one of the most intimate acts any two guys could do. 

So every August I sit here, on this rocky beach, looking at his back and those gym-toned buns, his body easing slowly into comfortable dad-hood, and it always marks the start of that old August feeling.  I don’t want to blow him anymore, not really; I just want us to stand, together, in the sun, on this beach, perfectly naked, embracing.  Seriously, I’d be happy with that, once a year.  As it is, I just feel this old, familiar, almost fatherly sentimentality, a faint sorrow for who we were and what we’ll never be.  

daddysbottom:

Fuck! He was just my type. Solidly-build man, a sprinkle of hair on his chest, close-cropped military-style haircut, a nice goatee that added an ultra-masculine look to his handsome face. I could feel the stirring in my groin as I eyed this man. And oh, add a ring on his wedding finger. This was Class A married daddy that ticked all my boxes and pushed all my buttons.

But of course, as we both were working out by the jogging tracks, I knew that likelihood of scoring this daddy was practically nil. So I spent the time just ogling at him from afar. But still, I thought I’d give it a chance.

I don’t think he had noticed me since he was caught up with his stretching exercises. I decided that, since he’s shirtless and letting the world see that gorgeous torso , I’d do that same. So while facing him, I pulled up my t-shirt to reveal my own body. Unlike him, I had more of a swimmer’s built, trim, tight, and lean. I did have something he didn’t, and that was a clear 6-pack abs that I’d been told was my best feature.

And sure enough, as I took a sneak look at the married daddy, he was eying me pretty closely as he finally saw me and my naked torso. Shit, I was pretty sure he was checking me out even when I couldn’t see his eyes from behind those dark sunglasses.

My dick started to plump up at the thought that I might get a chance with this married hunk. So I went for it. I nodded at him and said hi.

He smiled and walked closer to me to return my greeting. When I saw the lump in his loose shorts, I thank god that I didn’t live that far away, and that I had nothing else to do the rest of the day than satisfying this daddy.

jakespot:

One of my buddies from the team had asked me to stay over all weekend. His parents were gone and I don’t think he liked being by himself so he asked if I wanted to hangout with him. I was sitting on the couch and I was pretty horny, like most mornings, and my dick just wouldn’t go down. Danny was eating breakfast at the counter and he had no clue I couldn’t stop staring at him.

I sat there palming my hard cock through my boxers as I looked at his fit tight back, his beautiful tan skin and a sexiness that I didn’t quite understand. I guess I just needed a good jerk off session or something but I couldn’t stop imagining touching him, being with him. What the fuck was wrong with me.

Danny was a cool guy and all, and I did enjoy hanging out with him but I wasn’t like that I tried to tell myself. But there he was, I was drawn to him. I wanted to smell him, put my hand on him, hold him close. Fuck, my dick was pulsing at the idea.

I don’t think he noticed that I was rubbing my morning wood while I laid out on his couch. As we talked I was slowly jerking myself at the idea of being with my friend.

“You want to go for a run?” He asked.

“Yeah that sounds good, then maybe lay out after or something?” I had stood up and was still stroking myself.

I couldn’t shake this feeling, after talking about sex and girls all night with him I was so horny I felt like I wasn’t in control anymore.

He glanced over his shoulder and noticed I was standing awkwardly close. I could smell him, he smelled great, like body spray and morning sweat.

Danny wasn’t into dudes, well not that I knew of and I wasn’t even sure what exactly I liked either at this point. But his body was turning me on so much, I wondered what it would be like putting my dick in another him. Feeling the head of my cock push in his tight warm hole as it squeezed me tight.

I knew Danny had a nice round ass from seeing him at swim practice, out of all the guys I had checked out his was my favorite. The way he looked in that speedo, I could even picture it now as I was standing there. I was right behind him, my dick practically sticking straight out and by now he had to have known something was up that neither one of us was acknowledging.

I took on last step and let my cock push up against him, there was no doubt now. I put my hand on his back and began rubbing into his muscle as I moved my hard cock from side to side, pressing it tight between the both of us. Running my hands up and down his body, feeling him under my grip.

“You’re really hard Jason,” he broke the silence.

“Yeah, I am.” I whispered, “is it bothering you?”

“No,” my friend answered.

I guess we both were curious about things, I wrapped my arms around him and put my head in his neck and took a deep breath in. I let my body take over and stopped thinking so much. I kissed him, and began sucking and licking his skin.

His body felt nice in my arms as I held him and continued pressing myself into him, kissing him, tasting his skin. It was like I was drunk and I had lost my mind. I reached down with my right hand and cupped him, grabbing his ass, giving him a squeeze. It made me so horny thinking about being inside of him.

I pulled him backward off the stool so I could feel his firm ass in both of my hands as I laid down on top of him, my head resting on him. Sticking my middle finger in my mouth, sucking on it getting it wet. I pulled his underwear down just enough to give my finger access to his hole.

“What are you going to do?” He asked nervous but not asking me to stop.

“I just want to feel you. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” I assured him.

I felt his smooth firm ass as I moved towards his hole, and then there it was, the part where I desperately wanted to put my cock. My heart was racing as I fingered the outside for a moment, feeling the texture and warmth of his skin. I finally pushed in, feeling the warm silky insides of my buddy.

“Fuck,” Danny said as I slowly worked his into his tight hole.

“Has anyone ever been,” I started to ask.

“No, never,” he was breathing heavy as he enjoyed me moving it around inside of him, I worked a second finger in.

I pulled down my boxers and let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them, I was standing there in nothing but my socks.

“Lift,” I ordered him.

He did what I told him to do and picked his ass up and I pulled his flannel bottoms and underwear down out of the way. I kept playing with his ass, it was so sexy to me and I liked making him moan as I pushed my fingers around looking for the spots that he liked the best.

I spit in my hand and rubbed it on myself, trying to get my dick as wet as I could for him. I wish I could give him advice but I’d never done this with a guy so he was on his own.

“I’ll go slow, but just let it happen,” were my only words of comfort.

“Okay,” he turned and looked at what was behind him.

A six foot guy with a swimmers body and a leaking hard cock ready to fuck him, that’s what he saw. He leaned forward as if he knew it would help give me better access to him. I went to my knees for a moment to see what I was getting, fuck it was a beautiful ring and I couldn’t help but stick my tongue out and lick it a few times. I felt like an animal, giving into things I always kept from myself. I began to lick all around his ass, enjoying the taste and feeling of him on my tongue. Hearing him moan in enjoyment made me go deeper, lick him even more.

I stood up and wrapped my arms around him, I grabbed my cock and found the spot and started to push in him. He winced in pain but it didn’t stop me, I kissed his neck to comfort him as I took his virginity from him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I whispered as I pushed more of me into him.

Fuck it was better then I thought it would be, just as good as any girl I had ever been in, if not better. I held him close as I pushed deeper, going in him until I felt his ass on my stomach. I just paused like that letting Danny get used to my dick. Letting him stretch out around my cock.

“I’m all the way in you, are you okay?” I was concerned but the truth came out in my next statement, “I want to start fucking you now.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just go slow please.”

“Sure thing, but not the whole time, just at first,” I didn’t feel bad for being forceful, I knew he’d be fine and we’d both enjoy it.

I pulled out and I felt the tip of my dick almost come completely out and I slowly pushed it back in. He was moaning as he felt me leave and re-enter him over and over again. It was so sexy hearing a guy react to my cock. After a few minutes, to me felt like forever, I started to let loose. My body began to slap against his and the sound of sex was filling his house.

Fuck he felt good wrapped around my cock taking it like that. He was starting to fall of the stool and I wrapped my arm around his stomach to keep him where he was as I used his ass for my pleasure. Both of us lost in a sexual act together. Our two body’s linked and intertwined as I pumped in and out of him.

I moved my hands all over him, I felt his pecks and nipples, his body was warm and soft against my skin. His abs were tight and flexing as I fucked him, his legs were hairy and firm as he tried to keep steady on the stool. I moved my hand to his dick, I wanted to know if he was hard. He was, and was leaking all over, I got it on my hand and smeared it into his skin. I’d never felt another guy before, I was enjoying exploring his body. It was so different than a girls, he was stronger and bigger.

“You love it don’t you?” I knew the answer, his moaning and grunting told me everything I needed.

“Fuck yes Jason, use my ass, god damnit.”

“You like me using you. Damn dude, you have a cock, my cock, in your ass and are loving it,” I had to point out.

“Yes, fuck yes I do,” he reached around and grabbed my ass and felt my body pounding into him.

I grabbed the bottom of his jaw, my other arm was still around his stomach keeping him put, I made him face me so I could see what I was doing to him, what my cock was making him feel. His eyes were so beautiful, his face had desire all over it. I had to kiss him, I opened my mouth and stuck my tongue in his. My tongue was practically down his throat as I rammed my cock harder, deeper inside of him. He didn’t resist, he kissed me back. He was almost desperate, lost in what we were doing.

I made out with my buddy as his ass made my cock get closer and closer to releasing it’s load.

“I’m going to cum,” I started to say, he interrupted me.

“Do it in me,” he told me.

“Fuck, you sure?” I was excited at the idea.

“Yes please, do it inside of me.”

That was all I needed to hear, I knew he was going to be mine, and maybe not only just for that morning. Here we were, two guys exploring and letting lose, nothing but each other on our minds.

I grabbed hold of his cock and started to jerk him off as I felt my load building past the point of me not being able to hold back anymore. He felt nice in my hand, his balls bouncing up and down hitting me as I fucked my cock deep inside of him. I heard him cry out and his dick pulsed as he came all over my hand, the stool and floor.

His ass clamped down hard with every shot and I couldn’t hold it in anymore, “I’m going cum in you dude, Fuck!”

I felt me balls raise and my cock swell as the first shot flew from my dick deep in him, then another and another. It was the best I had felt since the first time I ever had sex. I was fucking into him hard, pulling out and shoved back in, depositing my load.

He turned and began to kiss me again, half way through my orgasm we were making out again. I knew I had to be putting one of the biggest loads I had ever had in his ass.

I finally just held his hips down, my cock as far as it could go in. I stayed like that, my forehead resting on his shoulder. I just rubbed his stomach, knowing my load was inside of him, that ass that I had wanted so bad was mine, at this very moment. I didn’t want to pull out, I wanted to stay like this.

“Damn Danny, I needed that.”

“Yeah, I did too I think.”

“I think you did too,” I sighed, giving him light kisses on his neck and shoulder.

I was exhausted, I wasn’t up for a run anymore. I rather get tired doing other things with him, “Let’s stay in, how about we get to know each other a little better for the rest of the day?” He knew what I meant by that.

“Sounds good, I’d like that.”

I looked down and watched as my cock slipped out of his hole, it was still pretty hard and some cum fell out with it. I moved the stool and helped him take off his clothes and clean up our mess off the floor with them.

“Come on, let’s take a shower.” I smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the lips like that was normal.

“Sure,” he said grabbing my dick in his hand for the first time.

jakespot:

College was about exploring so me and my body decided we should try it out. I didn’t expect his dick to feel so huge as he pushed it in. It looked big but it felt even bigger.

“Fuck, put some more lube on it dude.”

“It’s like two more inches, you sure you want me to pull it out to put it back in?”

“Guess not, just go easy.”

“I’ll give you a second to get used to it, don’t worry. That’s what my little brother told me, you just got to let your body adjust.”

As soon as I felt his stomach pushing against me I was relieved. He was all the way in now. He rubbed my back and waited for me to say it was okay.

“You good? It hurting?”

“No, it just feels weird. I feel very full and it feels like my body wants to push you out.”

I reached around and felt his body, I felt the side of his ass and then a stomach, I put my hand in between us and felt the top of his dick. I could feel where it was in me.

“Okay, go slow.”

He grabbed my hips and I felt him slowly pull out, it was like I could feel every vein on his dick. And when I could tell he was almost out he started to push in again. He kept doing that nice and slow over and over.

“Your ass is so tight, it’s crazy.”

“You can go faster.”

“Okay.”

First he pushed all the way in and leaned into me. He was so deep inside, then he started picking up speed. I could hear his body slapping against mine after a while. It was finally starting to feel better, like really good.

“I’m getting close dude, fuck I want to come in you.”

“It’s cool,” I moaned.

That shit was feeling so good, he could have done whatever he wanted at that point. I finally knew why people do this kind of stuff. He got really rough at the end and he was slamming into me. I had gotten used to his dick so it was okay.

“Fuck, here it comes. I going to fucking cum in you baby.”

“Fucking do it. Give me your load man.”

And just like that I’d taken my first cock and my first load. I don’t know if he really was going to give me a turn or not but at least I was good with this role.

maturedadsandmen:

Blast From The Past

Out of all of the stories that I’ve written, this one unofficially (because I don’t officially rank my stories :-P ) ranks probably as my number two favorite.  And there’s just something about the picture that goes along with it…  ;-)

maturedadsandmen

This is a long post, I know.  But the words just poured forth.  I didn’t want to split it into more than one post because the guy in this photo is who inspired the story you’re about to read.  I didn’t want to associate a photo of a different guy with the rest of the story.

Is it still called unrequited love if the guy you’re pining for knows how you feel?  You told your parents you were gay at 15.  You told him how you feel about him - how you’ve felt about him ever since puberty - when you were 18 that summer before leaving for college.  Pretty ballsy to come right out and say it, right?  Alcohol really is a truth serum like they say it is.  He acted like you never said what you said to him and you went off to college 1,000 miles away with a heavy heart.

All four years at college and the next two of post-graduate school, you dated guys off and on.  A couple along the way were even serious enough that you brought them home to meet your parents.  Talk about awkward.  Although it was apparently only awkward for you.  He never acted like it mattered to him that just a few years ago, you had poured your heart and your feelings out to him and now here you were having some other guy’s arms around you.  A couple times over the years, you tried to revisit the conversation from when you were 18 with him…even one time to the point that you had gotten a lucrative job offer from a firm in Chicago, but you had come to him hoping he’d give you a reason to turn it down and accept a job closer to home.  But he shut you down every time you tried to talk to him about it.

A couple years into your new job, despite a murderous work schedule of 60 to 70 hours a week, you managed to meet someone and it became serious.  More serious than any other relationship you’d ever been in.   You’d been dating for over a year when, out of the blue, at a romantic dinner in a restaurant overlooking Lake Michigan, your man proposed.   You accepted because you had fallen in love.  The problem was, you didn’t love your fiance the way you loved Him.  Even now as the two of you are planning your wedding, He is still in the back of your mind.   Every time your phone rings, a small part of you keeps hoping it’s him, calling to tell you not to get married.  But it’s never him calling…at least not for the reason you want him to call.

Shortly before your wedding was to take place, during a visit back home, some friends threw a bachelor party of sorts for you.  As supportive as they’ve been of you ever since you came out, none of them could bring themselves to hire male strippers for you, so it wasn’t THAT kind of bachelor party.  It was more of a gathering with food for people to visit and catch up.  Your fiance couldn’t make it.  He had to stay back in Chicago for work.  But He was there.  The two of you had a few polite, normal conversations throughout the party.  When you were talking with others, your eyes would sometimes divert to him, involved in some other conversation in the room.  God.  Even after all these years.  Even with you days away from getting married, he still brought out feelings in you that no one else did.

After a few hours, the party wound down.  Everyone had left except for the two of you.  You were sitting out on the back deck, looking up at the stars and talking.  Both of you had downed a couple beers throughout the night and you each had a bottle in your hand now.  Truth serum again…  He’d been talking to you for the past few minutes about marriage.  How it’s the greatest thing in the world and it shouldn’t be taken for granted.  How you and your fiance should cherish each other and treat each other well.  Keep communication lines open.  Don’t go to bed angry…shit like that.  Typical fatherly advice.  During a lull in the conversation, you stood up and walked to lean over the deck.  He joined you.  You turned and looked at each other and that’s when the truth serum - mixed with a little bit of courage builder - did its trick on you again.

“I love you, Dad” you said with what sounded to you like deep longing in your voice.  You meant I love you as more than just something a child says to their parent out of habit.  But when he responded, almost reflexively, with, “I love you too, Son.” you knew he only said it about of habit.  Maybe he thought, after all these years, your feelings might have gone away.  Or, now that you were getting married, those feelings you told him about all those years ago didn’t matter anymore.  The extra courage the alcohol was giving you compelled you to lean over and show Dad what you meant when you said I love you.  While you were still looking at each other, you leaned in and kissed him.  Maybe because he was so surprised.  Maybe because it’s a reflex when someone kisses you. Or maybe it was for another reason…  He kissed you back.  In that moment, all of the feelings you’d had for nearly 20 years welled up inside you.  Even though it was just a small kiss, not even any tongue involved, it was the most special thing that had ever happened to you.   It was as if you’d never known love before you kissed him.  It was then that you knew for sure that everything you had felt for him all of these years was right, no matter how many ways since the day you told him how you felt about him he’d tried to tell you it was wrong.

Though it seemed like several minutes, it was probably only a few seconds.  Dad jerked backward suddenly…ending your rapture.  “Son, no!   No.  That didn’t just happen.”

“But it did, Dad.  It definitely happened.”

“Listen to what I’m saying, Son,” he said firmly.  “This did NOT just happen.”  I knew that tone of voice.  In my youth, it meant what he said was the final word and he shouldn’t be challenged any further.   However, I wasn’t eight years old anymore and more was at stake this time than a bike or a video game that I wanted.

He turned and started walking back into the house when I grabbed his arm.  “Dad, we have to talk about this.  I’m supposed to get married in one week.  I can’t marry Doug now that this has happened.  You can’t tell me you didn’t feel the same thing I felt.”

With almost steely coldness in his eyes, Dad shut me down yet again like he had so many times before.  “Yes you CAN marry Doug.  You love Doug.  Doug loves you.  What just happened, which - like I already told you, DIDN’T happen - shouldn’t have happened.  Tomorrow morning, you’re going to fly back to Chicago and be with your fiance.  And you most certainly WILL get married.”  With that, he walked inside and went directly up to bed, leaving me standing there, brokenhearted again.

The next morning, he acted as if last night hadn’t happened.  He went out of his way to make sure he wasn’t alone with me.  When I was getting ready to leave for the airport, he hugged me.  But I knew it was only for my mom’s benefit, so she wouldn’t think anything was wrong.

I went back to Chicago and tried to settle back into my life after that unsettling trip back home.  My wedding day came and went.  All of my family and friends were there…including Dad.  Doug’s family and friends were there too.  It was a beautiful ceremony.  But the whole time, I kept picturing Dad when I was looking at Doug, pledging my love and fidelity to him as he was to me.  Some of you are probably calling me a scumbag for marrying Doug when, just a week before, I had been ready to call it all off and basically told Dad I didn’t even want to marry Doug.  The truth is, I knew Doug loved me and I cared very much for him.  You’ve heard the phrase, “fake it until you make it”?  I thought once we were married, if I tried hard enough, the type of feelings I had for Dad would develop for Doug.

We’d been married for about a year when I got a call from one of my sisters.  I needed to come home right away.  I dropped everything and home I went with Doug in tow.  It was my mom.  She’d been feeling under the weather for over a year, but never did anything about it.  “It’s just a nagging cold.  I’ll be fine.”  The cold never went away, though. Finally, after prodding from my father and both of my sisters, she went to see the doctor two months ago and was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer and told she only had a few months left.  I went back home shortly after her diagnosis to spend time with the family.  With my sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles hovering around, fussing over Mom,  I felt like dead weight.  I did manage to spend some time alone with her before she insisted that I go back to Chicago.  “I’m fine, Honey,” she said.  “You always hear stories on the news about someone who is given months or weeks to live and, six years later, they’re still alive and kicking.   That’s gonna be me!”  Only, it wasn’t to be the case this time.

After I hung up with my sister, I headed home right away, understanding that this might be the end.  I made it back home and had time alone with Mom before she passed away.  Doug and I stayed for the whole week, through the funeral.  After the service, during a moment at the house when Dad and I were alone in the kitchen together, we hugged and cried.  I think it was the first time we had been truly emotional with each other since that week before my wedding.  There was no romance or sexual energy to anything that was happening in that moment.  Just two guys remembering the woman they both loved.  A couple days after the funeral, after being assured by my sisters and father that they would be okay, Doug and I went back to Chicago and our lives.

Six months later, I got another call from my sister, Bree.  “You need to come home…NOW!”  I got a lump in my throat and my heart dropped.   Not Dad too!  After further conversation with her, my worst fears weren’t realized.  Dad wasn’t dying.  But things weren’t good.  He’d sunk into a deep depression after Mom’s death.  He stopped going out and doing things.  He spent all of his time inside either watching TV or staring out the windows.  Nothing anyone in my family had tried to snap him out of it was working.  A once-vibrant man appeared to be wasting away.  Noting the special relationship he and I had always had, Bree asked me to come home.  Maybe I could finally make some headway with Dad.  I took a week off from work and went home, leaving Doug in Chicago.  “You need to be with your family and help your Dad,” he told me when I tried to convince him to come along.

The first few days I was there, it was the whole family together.   Dad was behaving the exact way my sister described.  He didn’t even want to spend time with all of us.  I also noticed that Dad, who had always been so particular about staying fit and keeping in shape, had put on quite a bit of weight since my mom passed.  Part of the depression, I reasoned.  The afternoon of the third day I was there, I called my therapist’s office back in Chicago.  Yes.  I’ve seen a therapist from time to time.  Everyone - even the most “together” person on the planet - needs an emotional “tune-up” from time to time…just to make sure nothing bad was building up inside.  I got a referral for a therapist here in town…someone my own doctor had gone to school with and was old friends with.  The next day, I sent my sisters and their husbands out so I could be alone with Dad.  We had a long talk about life, about Mom, about what had been happening to him over the past few months.  Dad opened up to me about the way that he had been feeling and I have to say, it was pretty heartbreaking…not only as a son, but as someone who was in love with him.  The son in me - as well as the lover - just wanted to pull him into a hug and never let go.  Dad agreed that he needed to get a grip on his life again.  But when I pulled out the information about the therapist, he flat-out refused.  It was time to pull out the big guns…and maybe a cliche or two, if necessary.

“Dad, I think it’s great that you finally want to turn your life around.  But this is too big for you to do on your own.  Stacey, Bree, and I are here for you…and so are Doug, Rich, and Greg” referring to our husbands, “but none of us is a professional.  Neither are you.  We all love you and we don’t want you to keep wasting away or slip back into this deep depression.  Please see the doctor.”

“You’re not going to let up, are you?”

“I’m a lawyer.  We don’t know how to let up.  I may be all the way in Chicago, but I’ll just tell Stacey and Bree to stay on your case in my absence.  Do you really want to have to deal with that every day?” I said with a smirk.  For the first time, I imagine, since my mom had been diagnosed, he cracked a small smile.  I picked up the cordless phone.   “So can I call and make an appointment?”

“No,” he said, grabbing the handset from me.

“Dad.  I thought we just had a breakthrough moment!” I replied, exasperated at how stubborn he was being.  Then, he surprised me by gesturing with his hand.

“Give me the information.  *I* need to make the call.”  After he got off the phone, he put his hand on my shoulder.  “Thanks, Son.” he said with a broad smile.

“It wasn’t me.  You did it.  You had the courage to make the call.”

“Thanks for everything,” he said again and pulled me into a big, long hug.  For the rest of the time I was home, Dad seemed to change.  He was more involved in spending time with all of us and seemed to be starting to try and find his old self again.  Never once while I was home during that week did I talk to Dad about my feelings for him.  The time wasn’t right…and at that point, I figured it was a dead issue for him.  I had become comfortable and content with my life in Chicago with Doug.  Continuing to rock the boat with my dad - especially while he was in such an emotionally fragile state - was no longer on my agenda.

Over the next few months, things with Dad really started to improve. He called me relatively frequently, telling me how the therapy sessions were really working wonders for him.  He said not only had he learned to cope with his grief over losing my mom, but he also cryptically said he’d started learning more things about himself and getting more in touch with his feelings.  I figured anything that was going to help Dad become a “better him” was a good thing.

Apparently, he was also getting his body back in shape.  At least once every three weeks or a month, he would send me a photo via text to show his progress in weight loss.  All of the photos were G-rated.  I had to admit, it seemed like Dad had really turned things around.  He was starting to get back the shape he’d always been in all the years I was growing up.  After several months, I got a text message from him late one night, “Hey, Son.  After all the hard work, finally think I’m back in fighting shape!  Took this pic earlier today.  Looking good, huh?”  A few moments later, the photo popped-up on my phone.  Unlike the previous photos that had been G-rated, this one was of Dad shirtless, sitting on the floor in only a pair of boxer-briefs.  My jaw dropped and I think I almost passed out!  Dad was right.  He looked good.  I was glad he seemed to finally be back among the living after my mom’s death.  But that picture…his body.  That handsome face.  His sexy, hairy chest.  It was all too much!  I almost instantly got a hard on, which I started massaging through my shorts, as I kept staring at the photo.   Another text came in from Dad, “Well?  What do you think?  Don’t leave me hanging!”

I can tell you how I wanted to respond.  I wanted to whip out my boner, take a picture of it and send it back to him with the message, “I think this speaks for what I think.”  But I couldn’t.  Those feelings for my dad were several years and a thousand miles away.  “Wow!  You look amazing!  Great job, Dad.  So happy for you!” is what I typed into my phone and sent.  Then, I brought the picture back up on my phone and blew two loads, looking at it.

A couple weeks went by.  There had been a major development in my relationship with Doug.  After much conversation, he and I decided it was time to adopt.  We both wanted children and we finally felt like we were on footing to be able to provide a stable home for a child.  Okay…I see you all looking at me with “judgy eyes.”  First, I marry Doug when I don’t really love him.  Now, I’m going to adopt a child with him and bring another person into the situation.  I know…  I’m a total scumbag. But it’s amazing the lengths we’ll go to in our lives when we’re trying to make things “okay” for ourselves and trying to do what we think we’re supposed to do.  Anyway, Doug was called out of town on business before we could make any plans to visit any adoption agencies.  We decided that, when he returned home next week, we’d make plans to move forward.  I was happy.  Maybe this is finally what was going to bring me the happiness that I’d been craving for so many years.

Doug had only been gone a day when a knock came on the apartment door.  To my surprise, when I opened it, there stood Dad in front of me.  Wow!  Those photos he’d been sending of himself as he was losing weight didn’t do him justice.  He looked good…damn good!  He looked even better than when he’d been at his most fit while I was growing up.  I was definitely looking at a man who had turned his life around.  And specifically tonight, he looked especially handsome.  He was almost dressed up as if he were going on a date after he was done visiting with me.  “Dad!” I exclaimed and immediately leapt into his arms for a huge hug.  “What are you doing here?”

He pulled away from the hug, smiling.  “I’m in town on a some business and thought I’d take a chance and see if you were home.”  He looked around.  “Is Doug still at work?“

“Actually, he’ll be out of town for at least a week on business, himself.”

“Oh, good!”  Dad responded.  When I stopped short and looked at him oddly, he quickly added.  “I mean, it’ll give you and I a chance to spend time together.”  It seemed as if Dad was trying to cover-up for something, but I decided not to press the issue.  My dad finally seemed like the man he used to be and I wanted to spend time with him with as little turbulence as possible.

We ordered food in and spent the better part of the next three hours catching up about life.  It was such a great night.  The best night I’d spent in quite a few years, actually.  Finally, the time had come in the conversation where I decided to tell him that Doug and I had decided to adopt.  “Dad, I have some news…” I started, but Dad interrupted me.

“Son, I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to cut you off, but I need to say something to you.  It’s pretty important.  I’ve been trying to decide all night if this is the right time to have this conversation.  But, as Dr. Thomason keeps telling me, I can’t put off something that I want and need to do.”

“Okay.  What do you have to tell me, Dad?”

“I think it’s best if I start at the beginning, before I met your mother.”  I made like I was going to get up from the couch.  “This sounds like it’s going to be a REALLY long conversation.  Do I need to brew a big pot of coffee?”

Dad chuckled, “Jackass!  I’m not about to embark on a retelling of my whole life from then to now.  I just want you to understand the context of what I ultimately want to tell you.”

“Okay.  So no coffee needed, then?”  I sat back down, caught in the playful glare of one of his mock “I’m not impressed” looks at me.

He continued his story, “Son, you know how things are when you’re growing up.  You’re just living your life, trying to find out who you are and what you’re supposed to do.  You try a lot of things until you find that right fit.  That’s how it was for me.  I tried a lot of things in high school and college.  I dated women,” and then he paused for what I’m sure was a big reveal to him, but came off to me as a little melodramatic, “…and men.”  I wasn’t too surprised to hear this.  It’s not uncommon for everyone to experiment in their youth.  Dad kept talking, “…in fact, I was seriously involved with another man at the same time I was dating your mother.”  Now THAT surprised me.

“What?!” I exclaimed.  I think he may have mistaken my outburst for anger instead of surprise, because he appeared to go into damage control mode.  “Son, you have to realize that I loved both he and your mother. I wasn’t sure what direction my life as going to go in.”

“How did you end up deciding to choose Mom?”

“I’d like to say it came in an epiphany and I had a moment where I knew she was the one I was meant to spend my life with.  But that’s not how it happened.  Actually, I was prepared to break things off with your mom and explore that other side of myself when your mom told me she was pregnant with what ended up being your sister, Stacey.”

I had a vision of my head being like in that commercial on TV for either car insurance, or whatever it’s for, where the the top of each person‘s head blows off in a puff of purple dust because their mind has been blown by the low prices.  My mind was officially blown by this news.  Dad had been prepared to explore a gay lifestyle.  “Dad, this is pretty surprising news.” I finally managed to vocalize.  “If you wanted something else in your life, why did you decide to marry Mom?”   Suddenly, my own life was having a spotlight shone on it by my last comment.  I wanted something else in my life, but I married Doug.  It was as if my life was mirroring his.

“Son, you know yourself that life for openly gay men like yourself - or even bicurious men, as I might have labeled myself back then - hasn’t been as open as it is now.  No.  I had gotten your mom pregnant.  I had to take responsibility for my actions.  Back then, my only option was to marry her.”

“But, if you didn’t truly love her…” I started to say, when Dad kept on talking, almost oblivious to the fact that I was talking.

“…we had a good life.  And I think all of you kids would say you had a good life growing up too.  I loved your mother…not the way she deserved to be loved, but I did love her as a friend and the mother of my children.  When she died, there was still a hole in my life where she had been.  It was devastating.”

I put my hand on his shoulder.  “Did you ever stray during all the time you were married?”

“Not once.  I looked.  In fact, I looked a lot.  But I never cheated on your mother.  I did my best to shove those feelings down and put them in a box, away from everything.”

It all made sense to me now.  “That’s why, when I told you how I felt about you when I was 18, you had almost a non-reaction.  You were trying to keep that part of your life and those feelings from coming to the surface again.“

“Yes and no.  I was also trying to keep your heart from getting broken, Son.  Becoming involved with your own father that way…  It would’ve lead to disaster.  Not only for you, but for so many others at the time.  You needed to get out there, live your life, and meet someone on your own.  And I needed to keep moving forward.  Every time you would try to talk to me about your feelings for me, it was like you were kneeling there on the ground, with a rock in your hand, trying to break open the lock on the box I’d put that part of my life inside..”

“And the night of the party before my wedding…?”

“You might say, you put a big dent in the lock.  You didn’t break it, but you dented it pretty good.  I couldn’t let you break the lock, so I had to end things that night before thing went any further.”

“So, Dad…  What does all of this mean?  What is this trip down memory lane about?”

“It’s about a truth that I’ve been learning about myself over the past several months with Dr. Thomason.  By what we’ve already talked about, you’ve probably guessed that what I have to tell you is that I’m gay.”

This was a pretty anti-climactic end to our big, emotional conversation.  “Yeah.  I figured that’s what was coming.  Don’t take this the wrong way, because I think it’s wonderful that you’re coming out and you’re doing it to me.  But it’s not a big revelation, given everything you’ve just finished telling me.”

“I know, Son.  But this isn’t all I need to say to you.  While I’ve been going through the process of therapy and learning about myself, I came to another realization as I was working through my feelings.  It’s why I’ve been trying so hard to keep my homosexual tendencies in check ever since you told me you loved me when you were 18…why I shut you down whenever you wanted to talk about it anytime after that…why I pushed you away when we kissed at the party before your wedding.  Son, I have feelings for you.  I guess I’ve had them all along.  Somewhere along the way, paternal pride turned into something more.  I wasn’t quite there when you told me how you felt at 18.  But I got there shortly after.   And when you were the one who pulled me out of myself and my depression after your mom died, that really helped crystalize what I had been trying to deny for so many years.  Son, I love you…you know, more than a father normally loves his son.”

I was speechless.  It was as if, with one fell swoop, Dad had taken a rock to the lock that was keeping my own box of emotions shut tight.   Suddenly, everything that I’d been feeling…all of the love I had for my dad that I had put away in recent years, came pouring out within me.   All I could do was hug him at that moment.  Embarrassingly enough, I started to cry too.  As we pulled away from the hug and Dad saw my tears, he became concerned. “Hey, my speech wasn’t THAT terrible was it?”

I laughed.  “No.  Of course not.  It’s what I’ve been wanting you to say to me ever since I was 18….actually, before I was 18.”

“Son, tell me how you feel.”

I wiped away the tears from my face and my eyes.  “You know how I feel…how I’ve ALWAYS felt.”

“I know.  But tell me how you feel after what I just said.”

I wasn’t sure I could put it into words, so I did the only thing that I could do.  “Does this tell you?”  I leaned toward him.  He met me halfway and our lips pressed against each other.  The kiss quickly turned from sweet and soft into passionate and intense.  Feelings we’d both keep keeping under wraps for so many years poured into that kiss.   Our tongues wrestled against each other.  Hands began to roam over each other…my hands feeling the muscle of his back and his shoulders.  After minutes of making out on my sofa, we came up for air and ended up breaking the kiss…though not pulling away from each other.  Our foreheads touched and our mouths were still just inches apart.

“Wow!” he breathed heavily, me feeling the heat of his breath on my chin.

“Wow doesn’t begin to cover it.  That was SO worth waiting all these years for!”

He chuckled softly then, without a word he kissed me again…this time, a little more tenderly, but no less passionately.  After nearly a minute more, I broke the kiss and stood up extending my hand to Dad.  He looked up, questioningly.

“Let’s move to the bedroom, Dad.”

“Are you sure?”

With gusto, I said, “Oh…ho yeah!  Definitely.”  Then, I remembered that this may be new for Dad.  “Are you ready for this?  I mean, if this is your first…”

Dad smirked at me.  “What am I..a virgin?  I’ve been with men before.  I’ve even been with men recently.”

That was a shock.  “Yeah?”

“Sure.  I wanted to make sure what I’ve been feeling is real and not just some overreaction to your mother passing.  I’M ready, but I’m not so sure you are.”

I sputtered with indignation.  I’ve been out for years.  I’ve been wanting him for years.  How could he say I’m not ready?  “What are you talking about?  Of the two of us, I think I’m more ready than you.”

“That’s not what I mean when I said I’m not sure you’re ready.  I’m talking about Doug.”  There it was.  The one word that I hadn’t wanted to think about…Doug.  Since we’d started making out, I’d basically forgotten I was married.  And frankly, I wasn’t ready to remember yet.  I reached out, took my father’s hand, and pulled him to a standing position.

“I know I’m eventually going to have to deal with that.  But not now.  This right here.  This isn’t about he and I, this is about you and me.  I’ll deal with the consequences later.  I pulled him to me and we kissed again.  “Come on.  Let’s go get comfortable, stud.”  He smiled and blushed a little at being referred to as a stud.  Adorable…

In my bedroom, we kissed hungrily again, our bodies pressed against each other…beginning to feel the stirrings of each of our hard ons.  Our kiss broke again and I tugged at his shirt.  Getting the hint, Dad pull it off over his head.  Finally getting a look at his chest, it surpassed my expectations….even after having seen it in that photo he texted me a few weeks ago.  I rubbed his chest, feeling his muscular pecs and his light gray and black chest hair.  This was better than I ever thought it could be.  I took my own shirt off and Dad eyed it and touched it appreciatively.  As apprehensive about doing this as he had been earlier, Dad started to take over.  He kissed me again and soon we were on my bed, he on top of me, kissing me, my neck, my shoulders…with my hands rubbing his back and finally finding his ass and grabbing it.

After a little while, I rolled us over, and began giving my dad the same treatment he’d been giving me.  Except, I went further down, kissing his chest, pinching his right nipple, while I licked and sucked on his left one.  Finally, I crept lower, unbuckling the belt of his pants.  Before unbuttoning them, I looked back up to his face.  He was looking at me with what appeared to be expectation and desire.  “Can I…?”  I asked.  He simply nodded wordlessly.  I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.  After he slightly lifted his ass off the bed to let me pull them down his legs, I saw he was wearing the same white boxer briefs he had been wearing in that photo from a few weeks ago.  White boxer briefs with a huge lump in them that was pointing up and to the right.  I know my mouth started watering as I reached out and began rubbing the bulge, feeling it grow even more under my touch.  When I looked back up at him, he had a shit-eating grin on his face.  “You knew how much I liked that picture you sent me, didn’t you?”

In a nonchalant tone, he said, “I had an idea you might’ve liked it.” and then winked at me.  Then, he reached and pulled me back up into a passionate, tongue-powered kiss.  His hands roamed over my back and finally reached down into the back of my pants, gripping my ass.

I broke out kiss and looked down into his eyes.  This should’ve happened years ago.  I loved this man.  Even though we hadn’t even gotten to the main event of our night together yet, the passion of what we’d done so far told me that he felt the same.  “God, I love you, Dad.”

“I love you to, Son.”  This time, unlike at the party before my wedding, I knew he wasn’t saying it reflexively.  I knew he meant it.   As he pulled me back down into a kiss and we continued making love, I knew my life had just taken a different direction.  Everything had changed.  Dad and I would still have to talk.  I would have to deal with Doug…and face whatever repercussions might come.  But in this moment, here on my bed, I was with the man I loved…the man I was meant to be with.  As long as we ended up together in the end, I could face whatever rough seas I might have to sail through in the immediate future.

undietales:

The exchange is not exactly equivalent, but it’s not like I don’t get anything out of it. A lot of these guys come to me as broken things: they’ve seen too much or had too much done to them. They have issues with trust, with boundaries; their personal lives are a disaster. I take them in, feed and clothe them. I’m clear with them upfront that this is work, not a temporary vacation from their lives. Mostly they understand. I spent eight months working with Joel. 

He had finally gotten to a place where things were improving. He’d cut out hard drugs and alcohol (mostly) and had started a serious gym regimen, which kept him out of his old circles. He’d recently got a job as an office manager, temporary but with the possibility of staying on permanently. He was happy. 

He said it was a small price to pay that he woke up on Thursday afternoons, showered, and went home without exactly remembering what had happened. 

As a routine, as he was walking out the door I handed him a flash drive with a video record of our entire session (the only copy) to review if he ever felt like it. No pressure. 

He told me that he had no reason to watch the videos.

But every week when Joel was face down on the white bed with his mind emptying itself of all the static, shedding all of its secrets, Joel told me that he watched those videos over and over during the week between our one-on-one sessions. He always turned out the lights in his room, locked the door, closed the blinds, and masturbated as he watched himself strip into his white briefs and lie face down on the bed. Joel confessed to me, in that hazy space that we call therapy for lack of a better word, that he had never been able to make it past the part where I crawl between his legs, pull down those clean white briefs and lower my tongue to his twitching, hungry hole. 

He would always cum at that part—where I ate him out—and it gave him an extra thrill that he’d never experienced that feeling outside of our one-on-ones. He’d never anyone do it to him: not his wife, or his mistress, or any of the men he saw when that certain itch needed scratching. He experienced it only through the video, but he could guess at how much it turned him on while he was under. 

maturedadsandmen:

localdaddies:

Gym Daddy
 
FollowLocalDaddies for a daddy a day!

Late night workout in the company gym with my boss.  I spent the whole time we lifted weights ogling him without trying too hard to hide it.

After we were done, he convinced me to take a steam with him in the sauna.  You probably guessed that it wasn’t too hard to convince me.  As we sat on the bench, towels around our waists, it was like the sauna was bar and the steam was alcohol.  He started opening up to me about how his marriage was in trouble.  He and his wife had been sleeping in separate bedrooms for more than a year.  He’d been trying to work things out, but she wasn’t being receptive.  He said he thinks she’s having an affair.

“Jason, I’m almost at the point where I don’t even give a damn anymore.  I’ve tried so many times to repair whatever’s wrong in our marriage, but she won’t give an inch.  If she wants to go be with this new guy she might be seeing, she should just put me out of my misery and go do it.”

How his wife could treat him this way completely baffled me.  I’d lusted after Ralph Saunders since the day I’d started the job.  He was sexy as hell and, on top of all of that, seemed like a genuinely nice, friendly guy.  Now, seeing him sitting next to me, practically naked, he also had the totally hot body to cap off all of the other positive qualities I saw in him.  I couldn’t figure out what deep, dark behavioral tic he must have to drive his wife away from him.  She must be the one with the problem.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Saunders.  I wish there was some great piece of advice I could give you.  But I’ve never been married before.”

He grinned and patted me on the shoulder, leaving his hand lingering there.  “Consider yourself lucky, my man!”

I looked him square in the eye and decided to take a chance.  “Right now, I definitely do.”

Mr. Saunders looked into my eyes as if he was trying to size me up and figure out what I meant by what I’d just said.  He removed his hand from my shoulder and got up from the bench.  “I think the heat’s getting to me.  It’s probably time to head home.”  I guess I’d gone too far.

As we exited the sauna, I decided to make one last subtle move.  As he walked in front of me, on our way back to the lockers, I reached out and patted his shoulder, rubbing a little afterward, “For what it’s worth…and since I haven’t ever been married, you can take it with a grain of salt if you want to, Mr. Saunders.  But I think your wife made a big mistake kicking you out of her bed and she’s making a mistake with the way she’s treating you.”

“Thanks, Jason.  I appreciate that,” he said, smiling, as we each approached our lockers, not far from each other.

I made a decision.  Ever since we’d sat down in the sauna, my cock had been hard beneath my towel.  It was still hard now.  I untied my towel and, not turning away so Mr. Saunders wouldn’t see it, I began pulling my clothes out of the locker.

“Wow!” Saunders said upon seeing my cock pointing upward.  “You must be excited about something!”

“Yeah,” I said sheepishly.  “It gets like this during times like these.”  I figured he’d assume I meant after lifting weights if he didn’t want to think I was coming on to him.

Surprisingly, Saunders didn’t do the typical locker room thing of putting his underwear on while still wearing his towel…or turn his back to me.  He just untied his towel and let his cock swing free.  It wasn’t hard.  But something about it told me it was growing a little more plump than it usually was when it was completely soft.  Hmmmm…  Maybe I was getting to him after all.

As I was slipping my jeans on, I felt him touch my shoulder.  He didn’t pat it.  He just left his hand there.  “Say, Jason…  I keep an apartment in the city…and I really don’t have any reason to go home - as you might have guessed by our conversation tonight.  So, I’m thinking about just heading to the apartment and staying there tonight.  Why don’t you come with me?  We’ll have and nightcap and then see what happens next.

I looked him in the eye, looked down at his growing cock, then looked back up at his face.  “Sounds like a good plan to me.  I’m in!”

He smiled broadly.  “Well, all right…”  It was actually kind of cute.  He looked like a kid in high school who had just found out he was gonna get lucky.

It was still a mystery as to whether or not his wife was having an affair.  But I was going to make sure that Mr. Saunders was about to embark on one.  And if I played my cards right, I hoped to eventually sometime down the road, have him in my bed on a regular basis.