Daddies, page 16
I still had one hand on my button, but before I picked up where we left off, I suddenly needed clarification. “Next year?”
“Yeah, man, I’m definitely living in the dorms my freshman year. Then it’s none of her business where I am.”
“The dorms?” I let my buttons be for the moment. “Dude.” It pained me to ask. “How old are you?”
The smile he gave me, equal parts sheepish and sultry, was answer enough. My cock didn’t deflate, but now I ignored it. “I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t ask me that.”
“Because you’re…?” Bodies like his don’t just rain down from the sky. What had made me think that maybe they had started to? Of course there was a catch.
“Seventeen.”
Oh, so close.
I wasn’t sure what to say, but when I took two steps back, he asked me, “Too young?”
“Well, definitely too illegal.”
“Because otherwise you would have?”
“Dude, if you don’t leave now, I still might.”
The grin lit up his face and he advanced on me. I placed a palm flat on his chest to stop him, but our surprised eyes locked—desire crackled like an electric current.
“But Daddy, I want you so bad.” He placed a huge hand against the round mound of my belly and we felt the jolt again. I struggled just to grab his wrist. We were like magnets in a science project. I was physically unable to remove his hand from my body, so strong was the attraction.
“Go home.”
He picked up his shirt without putting it on and backed toward the door, not letting go of my eyes. “If I was eighteen?”
“But you’re not.”
“But if I was…?”
“Go home,” I said again.
And so he did.
And I found myself in my bedroom. I was buzzing like a utility line; my jail-fearing head had carried the afternoon, but that brown, beautiful body had my other head so hot and hard that I couldn’t drop my shorts fast enough.
I was standing in front of my full-length mirror, but I wasn’t looking at my own thick, hairy body. In my mind’s eye, the licorice-whip runner was playing with himself, too, thinking of me. When I massaged my meaty, hairy chest, he was teasing his own purple, dime-sized nipples in the mirror. When my hands roved over the roundness of my thick, beer-filled belly, I sensed his hands, huge against the drumskin stretched tight across his slender waist. When I turned, it wasn’t the sight of my furry butt that made the first few drops of precum ooze from my dick, but rather the memory of the dusky twin orbs of his juicy-plum ass. The myriad contrasts in shape, in size, in color—even, yes, in age—were mesmerizing. I couldn’t get my mind—or my increasingly insistent hands—off them. The memory of his fragrant young body surged through the pulsing baton in my hands, but it was the idea that my grass-scented shirtless bulk had gotten him so hot that had me riveted to the mirror.
And as I thought of him stroking his young black cock thinking of me, the mirror cleared, and it was all over my own reflection—the heavy gut, the gym-bulked arms and thighs, the chest hair and beard now more silver than chestnut—that my heavy load splattered.
I thought of him, him and his tight, tempting body, a number of times over the ensuing months, and more often than not had a sticky washcloth to show for it. I’d been having loads of fun (ahem) with the twenty-two-year-old blond-haired doofus who worked the graveyard shift at the gas station on 19th and Judah. So stupid he had a hard time stringing enough words together to form a sentence, he had a plump, insatiable ass and unquenchable stamina, and it was always a pleasure to hear the doorbell ring shortly after the seven A.M. end of his shift.
It was unusual, though, to have someone come pounding at my door in the middle of the night. I wasn’t asleep, but I had crawled into bed with some scotch and was trying to stay awake through to the end of the midnight episode of “South Park.” Scared the shit out of me, to be honest. Ocean Beach is so quiet I can usually hear the ocean at night, even though it’s blocks away, and this urgent hammering was out of place in my low-key and organized life. I was tempted to ignore it—go ask to use someone else’s telephone, wandering crack addict—but the racket didn’t subside.
I tore myself from my bed, pulled on the nearest pair of underwear, and stumbled through the darkened living room to the door. Probably not the smartest move, I yanked it open without checking out the window. But the enraged What!! I was geared up to shout died in my throat.
Standing on my porch, grinning like a lottery winner in nothing but a sagging pair of jeans and a pointy paper party hat, was my ebony runner.
“Nice hat,” I said by way of greeting. In nothing but a pair of skivvies, the physical manifestation of my pleasure was immediately apparent, and his grin grew goofier.
He made a show of admiring my hard-on when he announced, so proud of himself, “I’m eighteen now.”
“Now?”
“Actually,” he looked at his watch, “I’ve been eighteen for almost twenty minutes.”
What could I possibly do besides smile? My heart rate picked up as the fire in my belly spread. “Did you ride the N like that?” I couldn’t help asking.
“Nah, man, I borrowed my mom’s car. I drove. Can I come in?”
I stood aside to let him pass. I had been visited by fantasies of his hard, horny body for months, but not even the hottest stacked up against the welcome reality. We stood looking at each other, unsure. Did we want to make friendly small talk? Or did I want to jump his narrow bones on the hardwood floor and fuck him so hard he got splinters in his knees?
“Happy birthday,” I told him instead.
“Thanks.” He smiled and put his strong hands on me. Thunder rumbled through my hips. “You got anything you wanna give me?”
My Fruit of the Looms and his jeans were stripped off with the same lightning movement. At fucking last, he pressed his smoky body against mine. I nibbled at the pink inside of his bottom lip once, then twice, before we finally kissed, and I was right. He was delicious.
He leaned down to take one of my nipples in his mouth but—with great difficulty—I pushed him away.
He looked at me, stricken. If he was afraid I would send him home again, he needn’t have worried. “Let’s go into the bedroom,” I said, taking him by the hand and leading the way.
In bed, we kissed. We teased, we tickled, we sucked. He loved the bump of my belly as much as I loved the plumpness of his ass. We explored several exciting body parts, but all roads—and tongues and fingertips—led back to our respective round mounds. He was hard as rebar from the outset and, while I’d definitely been with bigger guys, this kid had nothing to be ashamed of. Every time I touched his throbbing onyx member, it jerked and swelled some more. He was desperate to come, but I kept swatting his fumbling hands away. “In time,” I rumbled in his ear while fondling his sweaty balls.
Eventually unable to master my own impatience, I got him up on his hands and knees. My cock was dripping even before I reached for the condoms in my nightstand. I rolled the rubber on with one hand while I reached under him with the other and massaged his ball sac; he whimpered like a puppy. I squeezed lube onto my index finger and gently worked his tight, dark hole until he was lowing like a cow and on the verge of tears.
I waited, gently probing with my finger, until he gasped the magic words. “Please. Oh, please.”
He took it like a champ, yelping with his first sharp, surprised intake of breath, but when he had taken all of me once and I was easing myself in even deeper a second time, he moaned. Long, low, and buttery-smooth. “Oh, Daddy.”
PILLOW TALK
Keith Peck
(sound of boots on gritty pavement)
You look worried. Don’t be. Yeah, I’m queer enough for ya. ou look worried. Don’t be. Yeah, I’m queer enough for ya.
You look nice. How old are you? Really? You look younger (laughter). Well, I still ain’t breakin’ the law. The temptation’s there, know what I mean?
How much?
I can swing a hundred.
Yep. My wedding ring. Nope, not divorced. Not divorced. Don’t want to get divorced. Happily married.
Just curious.
Nah. Don’t wanna go to that hotel. It’s sleazy, yeah. And I really like sleaze, kid. But the walls are thin, kid, the walls are thin. You can hear a gnat fart in the next room. And I don’t want no one hearin’ what goes on between you and me.
No, nothing dangerous. But a man’s got a right to privacy. And I’m a man.
So I wanna take you to this dark alley. Yeah. Behind this warehouse, not far away. Over by the railroad tracks. Nobody ever goes there, not even the bums. No one near. It’s cool.
Cool?
Good. Let’s go. This way.
Quit actin’ scared. I ain’t no psycho. I got my kinks, but pain ain’t one of ‘em.
I like how you look. Small. Slender. Something about how you’re shaped. Nice shoulders, tight waist. And you’re blond. Blond guys always do it for me. Always something about blond hair makes me think of sunlight at noon. And you’re tanned, kid. Really tanned. You’re slender, but you ain’t bony. I don’t like bony boys too much. I kinda need something to cushion the pounding. You run? You got good legs. Great butt. Betcha play basketball. Volleyball? Yeah, you look like you ought to be serving volleyball on a beach.
What’s your name?
Kevin. Wow. Kevin. Freaky. I got a son named Kevin. No shittin’. Ain’t that weird?
Nah, he’s not really blond. He’s got light brown hair, gets kinda blond in the summer, looks beautiful, but just not the same thing. Besides, he’s too young.
Though you don’t look to be much older than him.
Huh? Blue eyes.
His butt looks like yours too.
You hang out in the bar down the street? That queer place?
Nah. Never been inside. Don’t think I want to. Not my style, ya know? Don’t need to. Not if I can find guys like you outside. Cute and cuddly.
(laughter) Now you’re friendly. Come on. Let me put my arm around you. Don’t worry. We’ll look like a Dad and his son, out on a night on the town.
Yep, that’s real sweat. Real man sweat. I’m a big fan of my own smell. It’s one of my things. One of my kinks. Makes my prick get big.
I work in a print shop, son, and it gets hot on the press. I’m a pretty sweaty guy, too. Hell, I’ve soaked my wifebeater in five minutes just walking into work. Yeah, well, my wife says she don’t like it. But she snuggles up next to me on the couch. And the ladies might bitch about the smell, but they flirt with me just the same.
Quit it, boy. (chuckling)
It won’t kill you. Take a deep breath. Come on, Kevin. Breathe in Daddy’s funk.
Ain’t gonna tell ya my name.
Call me Daddy.
Good. Really good. Son.
Now get your nose in my pit. Breathe. That’s it. Again. That’s my fuckin’ sauna, boy, my fuckin’ sauna.
That’s me. That’s a Daddy.
Gets ya horny, don’t it, Kevin? Betcha wish you could work up a funk like me. Betcha sniff my wifebeater. Betcha steal it. Betcha take it in your room. Betcha you’d be a real man, if ya smelled like me, don’t ya, Kevin?
Mind if I touch you there, do ya? (chuckle) Bathing suit area. Nice. Ya like it. Yeah, Kevin, ya like it. Yeah (grin). I knew ya would.
Yeah, that’s a car up there, but he’s still a long ways off. Who cares what the cocksucker thinks? Hell, maybe I’m your real Daddy, you’re my really drunk boy, and you’re about to pee your pants and I’m having to pinch your cock for you so you don’t piss yourself. Stuff like that happens.
Roll with it. I’m payin’.
Wish you were wearing some soccer shorts, maybe. Or swim trunks, with the drawstring untied. Yeah, the blue ones, those’d be nice.
Nuzzle up, Kevin. Get close. It’s a little cool, tonight. Yeah. You feel warm. Okay (laughter). I’ll let it go.
Feels like it got big for me. Did it, Kevin? Did ya get boned, when Daddy touched ya? Ya suppose they can see it, from the car? Yeah, he can. Yeah. Yeah, son, he can see ya. My boy’s got a boner. Look at him look. (chuckle) Yeah. (shouted:) Hey, fuckwad! Watcha lookin’ at? This is my son, dammit!
Okay, take this left. Yeah, it’s fucking dark. And it’s darker back there. Fuck, no, ain’t no slashers. No one ever comes back here; who the fuck they gonna slash?
You’re a good boy, Kevin. Yeah, come on.
Fuck, you got a hot butt. Damn, son. Damn, that is a butt. (whispered:) Look so fucking hot in tight pajamas. Daddy likes boys with hot butts, and holy shit, my boy’s got a hot ass. My son’s a blond bitch. Shit, Kevin. They fit right in my palm. Right in my fucking palm. Perfect. I wanna peel you open, son, back here. I wanna kneel down, I wanna palm this little butt open, and I wanna look at ya, Kevin. You got something Daddy needs, Daddy needs really bad, and Daddy’s gonna make your butt feel real good—
Stop. Stop, Kevin.
Turn around.
(soft kissing sounds)
Okay. Shit. Too worked up. Let’s go.
You taste like beer, Kevin. Like Heineken. That what you drink in the bar?
Cool. Dad likes scotch. Ever had Chivas on the rocks? It’ll make a man out of you.
Okay. Turn right. Yeah. By the loading dock. Come on. Come on. (whispered:) I shouldn’t have kissed ya, son, ya shouldn’t have kissed Daddy like that, son.
Touch me, Kevin. Don’t be shy. Use your fingers. Touch Daddy there.
Feel that?
A little further. Keep ‘em moving. Yeah, like that. Some more. Oh, you fucking tease, I’m leaking—
Keep ‘em moving. Real light. Like feathers.
That’s it. That’s your Daddy’s prick, Kevin. You just felt your Daddy’s prick. It’s a goddamned big prick, Kevin, ain’t it? Your Daddy’s got a huge fucking cock. Mommy knows, Daddy knows, now you know, Kevin.
It’ll hurt like hell. That’s the way it is. It always does the first time with Daddy. There’s no gettin’ around it, okay? You understand Daddy? You know it’s gonna happen now, it’s gonna happen tonight, it’s gotta happen no matter what?
Okay, kneel. Just kneel. Right now, Kevin. In front of me.
Good, son. Real good.
Let me tell you something, Kevin. I’ve got to tell you this. You do things to Daddy. You do things to Daddy you shouldn’t do. You make Daddy think things that ain’t nice when ya mow the lawn in those blue trunks. You shouldn’t shoot hoops in the driveway with your buddies without your shirt on. You shouldn’t wear pajamas, not like the ones you’ve got, Kevin. You just can’t do things like that. You make Daddy think bad things. Bad things, son. Really bad things. Things he shouldn’t think. He oughta be thinking about Mom, but no, I’m looking at Kevin, and I want to—
Look, Kevin. I want to take your jeans down. (whispered:) Pretend like you’re fightin’.
No. Let me do it. Stop it. Let Daddy do it. Stop it. Let me do it, Kevin, let your Daddy do it!
There.
What the fuck, son? What. The. Fuck. They must call you commando Kevin, in school, yeah, Kevin, like when you’re in the bathroom and ya gotta take a big piss and your shorts drop half off your ass while you stand there in front of the pisser—betcha those shorts drop half off your ass while you drain it. Betcha like guys lookin’ at your ass. Betcha. Betcha know they’re looking, and ya take your time getting your tackle tucked back in. Show off. Fucking awesome ass, son.
(sniffing)
Fuckin’ locker room. Fuckin’ sweat. Fuck. Butt like goddamned rocks. Jock ass. Not a fucking hair in sight. Smooth.
(slurping noise)
Spread your legs.
Yeah, that’s why I like blonds. Nuts clean as a baby’s chin. Ah, Kevin, you’re a natural boy. My boy. You look so good, spread out for Daddy. Let me touch your nuts, Kevin. They look so pretty. They’re so tight in the sac. You look like you’re gonna shoot. You that horny, Kevin? Daddy make you that horny?
You sure as fuck make Daddy horny, son.
One sec. Just hold it. Yeah. Let me peel ‘em open. Yeah. That’s beautiful. Little fuckin’ pink starfish. Now that’s how a cunt ought to look. Fuck, son, that’s a cunt. Don’t look like I can get my pinky in there, son. Tight. Yeah.
Daddy wants to teach you something, son, is that okay? Something cool only guys can do. You gonna let Daddy do that, Kevin? You wanna learn a new game? Come on. Let Daddy teach ya somethin’ new.
Yeah, I know. Turn around. Yeah. Look at that. Look what’s happenin’ in my jeans, Kevin. You see that big thing, jumping around? You see that? You know what it is, Kevin? You were inside it. You traveled up it, once. I shot you out of my nuts into Mommy’s cunt. Tonight (laughs) I want you to ride it, like it was a train. (chuckles) Visit Daddy’s nuts again.
Unzip your Daddy.
Take it out.
(wet meat-smacking sound)
Told you it was big.
Smell your hands, Kevin.
That’s me. That’s Daddy’s crotch sweat. Some piss. Yeah, Kevin. And headcheese, Kevin. It gets so thick it leaks out from under my foreskin, Kevin. It stinks, Kevin. I can smell it sometimes, on hot days, you know, when Daddy really needs to shower. It makes your Daddy dizzy, Kevin. That’s how bad it is. Yeah, but they love it. They all love how it smells. They love licking it.
Yeah, go on, kneel down.
It’s like heroin. Makes the boys go crazy.
Yeah, big fucking cockhead. When I was growin’ up, younger than you, we had a grove of apple trees on our farm. Yeah. I used to hold up them apples, so swollen and juicy in the fall, up against my cockhead to see which was bigger. Hell, I don’t ever remember finding an apple bigger than my cockhead. Not ever.
Is that spit, Kevin? Leakin’ out there from your pretty pink lips? Good boy.
Sniff. Now. Don’t argue with Daddy. Sniff. Come on, my pits didn’t bother you. Hell, they got ya goin’. Sniff my crotch.
Yeah. Breathe that funk.
