Show me what you’re wearing
He sent a picture of himself in the mirror. He was wearing a skimpy tank top with white and red horizontal stripes. His furry chest and shoulders were exposed, and the stripes accentuated his round belly. He was also wearing a purple sweat band across his forehead, which kept his dark curls out of his eyes. There was a smirk on his face.
You look like a gay candy cane, I wrote.
Lol. U think guys will want to suck on me? he replied.
Then I added, Lose the headband
I heard my wife call up the stairs, “Honey! We’re almost out the door. Hurry up!”
I put my phone down and washed my face. I looked up into the mirror. “You’re a piece of shit,” I whispered.
My phone buzzed. It was a picture of Danny’s erect cock, the headband dangling from it. Below, he wrote, Just for you, dad
I felt my dick swell. I replied, Looks like you’re gonna have a fun night, kiddo. Can’t wait to hear about it
“Jason!” My wife again.
“I’m coming!” I yelled, and I pulled on my shirt and slipped on my watch. I set my phone to silent.
I hustled down the stairs, put my shoes, and went out the front door, locking it behind me. I got into the passenger side of the car, which was already running. The moment I closed the door my wife reversed rapidly out of the driveway, jostling me roughly as I tried to fasten my seatbelt.
“Jesus, Sharon,” I said. “Take it easy.”
“We’re late.” She said, icily.
I looked into the back seat and saw our kids, eleven and thirteen, both on their phones with earbuds in. I sighed. It was going to be a long two hours to my in-law’s house, then an excruciating period of unknown duration at the family reunion. Then two hours back.
I checked my watch, it was a little after 9:00 AM. I thought about Danny, about to head out to a local bear night in Melbourne. Danny, who I’d met on the app a few weeks ago. I’d been at work.
He’d messaged me first. I was just another headless torso on the app. My profile name was “Upstate John”. His was “Aussie Cub 21”. His profile pic showed a young guy, shirtless and wearing sunglasses, smiling, on a beach. It looked like he was running toward whoever took the picture. For his age, he had an impressive amount of fur. His location said he was more than 10,000 miles away, in Melbourne, Australia.
Well aren’t you an amuse bouche? I replied.
What, not enough for a main course?
Depends what else you’ve got cookin’ on that barbie
He sent me selfie, then, taken from above, of his chin and chest, an unbroken trail of fur from his beard down to his fist, which was wrapped around a thick, short, stout cock.
Damn, kid, I wrote. You’re making me hard
Show me, dad
I got up from my desk and walked quickly to the bathroom, hoping not to run into anyone that might see my evident boner. At the urinal, I’d taken a pic of myself, holding my hard cock, which was sticking out of my dress pants. In the pic, you could see a bit of my tie, and a bit of the hair on my wrist, emerging from my shirt cuff. I sent it to him.
A moment later, as I was washing my hands, he wrote back, Oh, daddy… were gonna be bloody good mates
That’s how it had started. Since then, I’d been up late almost every night messaging him, ostensibly working on a big project for work, after Sharon and the kids were in bed. I’d been on the app for a year or so, lurking, just to check out guys. A couple months ago I finally got up the nerve to post a pic, although I swore I would never show my face. I got plenty of messages from local guys looking for hookups. I gravitated toward guys further afield, interested in chatting and trading pics.
Downloading the app was an attempt to let off some of the steam I had felt building up in recent years. As I rounded the corner into middle age, the urge to fuck men, big hairy men, had surfaced. Well, maybe resurfaced was a better word to describe it. In college I’d hooked up with a few of the other guys on the track team. Drunken fooling around, really. But then there was the shot putter. He had rewired my brain, I felt. He seeded me, quite literally, with the desire for man sex I’d been grappling with ever since.
He was a beast of a guy, probably close to 300 pounds, hairy chest, a massive package, low-hanging cock and balls that jiggled in his shorts as he strutted around the weight room. At that time in my life, twenty or so years ago, I was slim and wiry, a reasonably fast middle-distance runner. I was desperate to bulk up, put on some muscle. I felt like I hit the jackpot when the shot putter, a senior, had taken me under his wing, seemingly keen to let me follow him around the gym, spot him, learn his methods. I remember salivating over his massive, supine body on the bench as he pressed enormous amounts of weight. Every part of his body would shake and strain antalya escort with the effort, his thin mesh shorts clinging to his thighs and crotch, obscuring virtually nothing of what he had between his legs.
One day, he’d pulled me aside after practice, when we were alone in the locker room, and pushed me down on my knees. You want this cock?” he said, and pulled my head into his crotch. I felt his stiffening cock press into my face and I smelled his musk and sweat. I reached up to pull his shorts down and suck him right there, but he pushed me away. “Not here, faggot,” he said. “I’ll find you this weekend.”
That weekend, he fucked me. He showed up at my dorm room late on Saturday night. I opened the door wearing just a pair of shorts. He pushed his way in and shut the door behind him. He kicked his shoes off, pulled off his shirt and shorts, then his underwear. Standing in just a pair of white socks, with his fist around his cock, he pointed to the ground in front of him. I knelt, trembling, looked up at him, past his enormous cock, hairy belly and chest. He scowled down at me and shoved his cock into my mouth. He was so thick that he hurt my jaw as he fucked my face, his meaty paws wrapped around my head. He called me a pussy boy. A little faggot bitch. My own cock was hard, too, leaking onto the carpet as I sucked him.
Then he had pulled me up by the shoulders and turned me around, bent me over my semi-lofted bed. I felt him pull my shorts down and press a thick finger into my asshole. I yelped in pain. The furthest I’d ever gone with a guy was sucking one of my buddies off. Certainly nothing like this had ever happened to me. I was afraid, but I also felt a hot fire all over me, a burning sense of visceral correctness.
He leaned over me with his huge body. I felt his sweaty chest and belly press onto my back, felt the roughness of his body hair on my skin. His breath reeked of liquor as he called me his little fuck boy. His little ass-fucked bitch. He shoved a couple of his fingers in my mouth to get them wet with spit and then rubbed them on my hole. Then I felt what must have been the head of his cock press up against me. It felt immense. Way too big. I tried to squirm away from him, but he’d grabbed my arms and pinned them behind me, pushing my torso down onto the bed.
When he pushed his cock into me, my head exploded in a brilliant firework of pain. He immediately began to fuck me, banging the bed loudly into the wall. The lamp on my bedside table fell over and landed pointing up at us, casting a shadow of him onto the wall. I watched him, projected on the wall, fucking me. I heard his grunts, felt his sweat, and smelled the stink of him. The pain was incredible, but after a minute or so, I started to feel bolts of pleasure shoot across my body.
Suddenly, he grunted loudly and rammed into me one last time, then fell on me with his full weight. I felt his giant cock jerking inside of me, and I knew he was unloading cum into my ass, without any condom. I lay there, as still as I could, fearful that he might hurt me as his body thrashed on top of me. When he was done, he pushed himself up, his hand pressing into my back. I felt his sweat-slick, hairy body peel off me. His cock pulled out of my asshole, and I felt my hole immediately contract, expelling his semen out onto the floor. I lay there, not knowing what to do. My ass felt like it had been blown apart by a grenade.
“Hey bro… uh, sorry,” he said. I heard him pick up the lamp and put it back on the table before he fumbled around for his clothes. I pushed myself up and rolled to sit on my bed. He was out the door before I had a chance to pull my shorts back up. I lay back down. In spite of the shock I felt having just been fucked, my cock was rock hard. I reached down to stroke it. That was the first of probably thousands of times I’d jerked off thinking about him, what he did to me that night.
“Jason, please be civil today.” My wife’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. We were almost to her parent’s house.
“You know me, mister civil,” I said.
As we got out of the car, I checked my phone. Shit. Three message notifications. I quickly opened the app as my family walked ahead of me toward the house. There was a pic of Danny flanked by two big, hairy, bare-chested guys, each at least 20 years older than him. Below that, texts saying, Permission to suck these guys off, dad? And then, Dad?!?!?!? The messages were about thirty minutes old.
Over the weeks we’d been messaging, Danny and I had slipped into a mode, I wouldn’t really call it dom/sub, maybe dom/sub-light. A playful, fantasy version of control. He’d begun checking with me for guidance on small decisions and in particular, permission to act, sexually. I helped him decide what to wear, scolded him for eating too much junk. I had to give him permission to jerk off. He especially liked checking in with me before, during, and after going fethiye escort out to the bars, or when he met up with local guys via the app. He clearly got off on flaunting his prodigious sexual appetite for me.
Proceed, I typed, hurriedly. I knew he’d probably already done it. I turned my phone to vibrate before pocketing it and entering the house.
“Jason!” My father-in-law reached for my hand with a classic fake grin plastered on his face.
“Chuck, great to see you,” I said. “Regina, as lovely as ever.” I hugged my mother-in-law. I knew Sharon would hear the exaggerated cheer in my voice and I knew that it would annoy her.
“Come on in, get yourself some food. Everyone’s already here,” Regina said. My kids ran into the house to find their cousins. Sharon walked off without me. I took a deep breath, checked my watch. I wondered if there was any way I could get us out of here in less than six hours. Not likely.
A while later, as I was talking to one of my wife’s sisters, I felt my pocket vibrate a few times. I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Danny had sent me a picture of himself, shirtless, kneeling in front of a furry thigh, his lips kissing an obscenely bulging jockstrap. Ugh, he was such a dirty little slut. My dick was instantly hard.
Below the picture he wrote, this is your cock, and also, gonna fuck you tonight, dad
I felt my guts churn. I was so horny. I looked around my in-laws’ bathroom, briefly considered jerking off, but then came back down to my senses. I washed my hands. Then I texted him back.
Attaboy, Danny. Get fucked. Tell me how that big cock feels in your tight little hole
I wandered back into the crowd of family out on the lawn. Before I realized my mistake, I was within striking distance of Uncle Carl, my wife’s most obnoxious relative.
“Jason! How ya doin’, big guy?” he said. Cue the belittling remark about my work. “Bet you’re sellin’ lots o’ those little solar doohickies to all the libtards movin’ into the valley, eh, Jace?”
Ooh, a twofer. My lucky day. I clapped him on the back.
“Yeah, what those eedjits don’t realize is the more they protect the environment, the longer we all have to wait to get raptured, eh, Carl?” I said, a little too loudly. Sharon, standing with a group of relatives not far from us, overheard and shot me a death glare. Carl laughed uncomfortably, not quite sure if he was in on the joke. My phone vibrated.
“Well, I…” Carl said, before I cut him off.
“Carl, it’s always a pleasure to see you. Now I need to go see about some beans before they’re all gone.” I hurried away, toward the row of tables laid out with food. I picked up a plate and a napkin-wrapped set of utensils, and then checked my phone.
bout to get fucked, dad
I shot back, remember that it’s MY cock, son
I spooned potato salad onto my plate. Then beans, coleslaw, and a few dill gherkins.
Daddy, I want your hot cum in my hole
I got plenty here for you, kid, gonna coat your guts with it
I squirted mustard onto an open hamburger bun, making an embarrassingly loud farting noise. I assembled the rest of my burger and then sat down in a chair to eat, as far as possible from the main crowd, so I could text more inconspicuously.
My cock is so hard, daddy
He sent a picture of his cock, then, with another man’s hand wrapped around it, the arm coming from behind him. Jesus. Was he actually fucking someone right now? My cock was straining against my pants.
cum for me, you filthy cub whore
I’m gonna cum, dad
After that, there weren’t any messages from him. I looked up from my phone, out across the bucolic family reunion scene in front of me. I put my phone back in my pocket. I realized I had been sweating profusely. The front of my shirt was clinging to my chest. I went back to the food table to get some napkins and wipe down my face.
“Hey Jason, are you feeling ok?” Regina ambled up next to me.
“Yeah, I’m just a little overheated,” I said, and tried to effect a casual chuckle.
“It is a hot one, today, isn’t it?” she said.
“Either that, or you made your beans a whole lot spicier than usual, Regina,” I said.
“Oh, you!” she said, swatting my arm. “Say, how’s that big array project going? Sharon says you’ve been working day and night.”
People at the reunion lingered on and on, as they always did. Sharon always felt obligated to stick around to the bitter end, even though I’m not sure she enjoyed it any more than I did. It was after seven by the time I was able wrangle us into the car and back on the road. I was driving. The kids fell asleep in the back seat, and Sharon pretended to sleep in the passenger seat. I was alone with my thoughts.
It was about three weeks after the shot putter fucked me that I met Sharon. I’d had a few girlfriends before, but Sharon and I clicked kaş escort at much deeper level. We started dating soon after we met, in our second year at school, and got married right after we graduated. As a married man, I’d never been unfaithful. Well, except maybe once. It wasn’t exactly cheating, though. More of a fat little asterisk.
It was a few years ago. I’d been called in as a consult on a large solar project on a farm about an hour out of town. The owner of the property had a son, probably in his early to mid-twenties, who seemed unemployed. He just hung around all the time, smoking cigarettes, watching us set up and install the array.
He instantly made my dick hard. He was short, maybe 5’5″ or 5’6″, chubby, and wore T shirts that were too small for his rounded torso. He had close-cropped blond hair and a curly, reddish-blond little beard. His pants didn’t fit quite right either, and I think he deliberately bent over in front of me several times, to show me the top of his furry butt. I knew he was watching me, probably because he saw me watching him.
On one of the last days of the project, he’d come up to me while I was standing at the edge of a row of solar cells. “Hey mister, can I show you something in the barn?” he asked. The afternoon sun cut low across the fields, illuminating his blue-green eyes with a golden light.
“Sure, kid.” I said. I followed him to the edge of the property and into a large wooden barn. Inside, shafts of light poured through large, west-facing open doors. Once we were out of sight of the crew, he pulled his shirt off, revealing his beefy torso, covered in tawny fur. He grabbed my hand and put it onto his belly. He felt warm and soft. I reached up with my other hand to feel his chest. I grabbed at the hair there, then worked my way up his neck to rub his beard. He unbuttoned my shirt and exhaled with a moan when he saw my husky chest and belly, covered in dark hair. He ran his fingers through it, then dropped to his knees. He unbuckled my belt and yanked my pants down. My cock was in his mouth before I really knew what was happening.
I looked down at his head, glowing in the late summer light, and watched my cock disappear into his mouth. This kid was a pro. He grabbed my balls and tugged with one hand, while the other felt across my belly and around my back, gripping the hair on my ass.
“Fuck, daddy.” He said, coming off me for a moment. I saw ropes of saliva hanging off my cock. He stroked my shaft with his fist, then went back to work with his mouth. He looked up at me a few times, there was a pleading look in his eyes. I thought about fucking him, about pressing him up against one of the rough-hewn support timbers of the barn, pushing his pants down and skewering him from behind. It was a compelling image, but I decided, in the moment, that it was too risky. Already, I was risking my career letting this blond furball slobber on my cock.
When I felt my orgasm coming on, I grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head off my cock. I stood over him, stroking myself. “Here it comes, bud,” I said. He stuck his tongue out and looked up at me. I lined his face with several jets of thick cum. He moaned with pleasure and then sucked on me again, milking every drop.
“Next time I want you to fuck me,” he said, standing up and wiping my cum off his face with his T shirt.
I grunted, noncommittal, as I put my dick back in my pants and buttoned my shirt. I was already planning not to come back to the site. I could get out of it, the project was pretty much done. He put his T shirt back on, and I could see webs of my cum spread across one of his sleeves. What a nasty little pig, I thought.
My dick was hard again for about the hundredth time today, as I thought about that fat little cocksucker. I was still thinking about him, about what his asshole would have felt like had I gone back and fucked him, when we pulled up into our driveway.
“We’re home!” I said, waking up the kids and Sharon, who had eventually fallen into actual sleep. They trundled into the house. I tarried in the garage, checked my phone. No messages.
“Bed. Now,” I said, inside, seeing that the kids had turned on the T.V.
I shooed them upstairs through a chorus of “But daaaad!”s. Sharon was already upstairs, I heard the water running in the master bathroom. I went into the downstairs bathroom and ran the water for a shower. Sharon and I still slept in the same bed, but had been using different bathrooms for a while now.
After my shower, I put on a bathrobe and went to the kitchen to pour myself some bourbon. I drank most of it in one long gulp. I checked my watch. It was 10:00pm, which meant that it was noon in Melbourne. The house was quiet. I opened the app. Messaged Danny.
Rise and shine, Danny boy
I went to the refrigerator to see about a snack. A few minutes later, I heard a buzz.
Ughghghhggh… think I’m still pissed, mate
Get up and drink some water
Ok ok, dad
I smiled and went to refill my glass, but froze when I saw my wife in the doorway of the kitchen. I hadn’t heard her come downstairs. She stood there, arms crossed, looking at me with narrowed eyes.