Words are hot.

It's all about the word. Writing, by me and others, about the WIDE RANGE of stuff that arouses me - fiction and fantasy, true encounters and confessions, captions and commentary. A picture may be worth a thousand words but the words are hotter. Adults only, please be 18 or older.

[homoeroticwords]

You've shared the sauna at your gym with countless married daddies like this… the subtle eye contact, the thighs spreading slightly to expose hot, sweaty genitals, followed by him casually “adjusting” them. Oh, his cock is slightly larger than before and yours begins follow suit. What’s next? Do you stroke each other? Does he want you to take him in your mouth or vice versa? If you’re lucky, no one else will come in for a few minutes and you’ll find out. He’ll leave the gym balls emptied, face flushed… satisfied. And so will you. What happens at the gym stays at the gym.

[anderthebear]

[graybeards]

“You’re up late,” I stated the obvious as I walked into the kitchen. Phil was leaning over the kitchen counter and watching television, but he turned to face me.

“Can’t sleep either?” He asked with a smile as he leaned back against the island. I’d seen Phil without a shirt on before at the beach, but there was something more intimate about it in this moment. As my eyes ran over his meaty chest, thick arms, and solid gut, I felt my heartbeat begin to quicken.

I was so enraptured that I’d forgotten to even breathe. After a long pause, I took a deep breath and answered, “Emily hogs the covers.”

Phil grinned and said, “So does Julie, but I don’t mind too much.” He took one hand out of his pocket and ran it over his furry chest. “I stay pretty warm without them.”

“I guess you’d be easier to sleep with then,” I blurted out, and my face reddened immediately. 

He looked at me carefully and then slowly smiled again as he said, “Funny.” I saw his hand digging in his pocket, reaching over to grasp the bulge in his pajamas and adjust it. “But I’m a pretty aggressive spooner and these hands like to wander,” he said.

“At least I’d be warm,” I said jokingly, but neither of us laughed. We just stared into each other’s eyes, wondering what the other was thinking.

His gaze dropped, running down my smooth, slim chest to my pajama pants as he said, “You must stay pretty active to be so fit.”

“I swim every morning and run on the weekends while Emily takes the kids to the park,” I reply.

Phil took a step forward, carefully as if he were sneaking up on a skittish squirrel.  He smiled and said, “I wish Julie would get some exercise in every once in a while. Not that I’m Mr. Slim.” He grinned and slapped his gut.

“You like fit women?” I asked as I watched Phil slowly come closer.

“Small women,” he answered plainly as he came to stand over me, nearly a foot taller than my 5′5″. He looked down into my skyward eyes and explained, “There’s nothing hotter than grabbing one by her little hips and putting her on my cock.”

Phil dropped a hand to my hip. I recoiled slightly, but didn’t move to stop him. His hand was massive on me. He stared into my eyes and said, “I bet I could throw you around real nicely.” I nodded dumbly. He put his other hand on the other side of me and lifted me off the ground like I was nothing.

We looked at each other closely, and then he started walking toward the second guest room with me in his hands as he said, “If they ask, we got drunk and didn’t want to wake them so we just passed out in here.”

I nodded again and reached down to fondle his now-massive bulge. The tall man grinned and said, “Just wait until you really get him going.” He was huge, but he felt even bigger in my small hands. Phil and I had been friends for some time, but I had a feeling we were about to become best friends.

[graybeards]

I posted this part two of the story above, but with a NSFW photo, so I’m reposting them both here together.

I rushed to my knees, noting the impatient tightening of Phil’s crossed arms, and started slurping away at the huge soft cock unfurled over the waistband of his briefs. My throat opened around his thick manhood as it hardened and reached deeper inside me. Tears streamed down my face as I gagged on him.

I’d gotten much better at this, but Phil didn’t exactly show much appreciation. The imposing man towering over me wasn’t the friendly giant he’d once been.

When Phil first carried me into that guest bedroom, I thought we’d become even better friends. When he stuffed his fat dick up my ass and made me cum without even touching myself, he had grinned from ear to ear with pride. Phil bred my ass twice in quick succession, coating my insides in his endless ropes of seed. When he was finished, his burly arms had pressed me against his broad chest all night, like I was precious.

Now, though, Phil treated me like his bitch. Most of the time, he just made me blow him, but when he wanted to fuck, he’d silently pin me against the bed and fuck mercilessly until he was satisfied. Even with our wives, he’d started treating me like a servant: fixing his drinks, cleaning up his trash, and even rubbing his feet once. It was humiliating and I didn’t know what to tell my wife.

But every time I came face-to-face with that cock, my intoxicating insecurities raged. I wanted—needed—Phil’s approval, and he was not an easy man to please. No matter what I gave him, he wanted more and I needed to give it to him.

[iammegadaddyissues-deactivated2]

[mightymeatycock-deactivated2018]

I never wanted to be one of those guys, the kind that make other dudes feel uncomfortable at the gym. I like checking out a hot dude, or a big bouncing cock, as much as the next cockhound, but we’ve all been around the guys who just don’t take no for an answer, the guys batting way out of their league, and I never wanted to be among their ranks. So I kept my looking respectful and subtle. 

Well, until the Yellow Shorts Man came along. He was just one of those dudes that always looked so groomed and perfectly dressed, in or out of street clothes. He looked a lot like one of the news anchors in our city, and for all I knew, it was that same guy, a married man with a huge pack of brats. 

He had an amazing chest and furry belly that was a perfect mix of muscle and a layer of beefy chub on top. 

And that’s when my promise to myself fell apart. Because I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop looking, stop staring, stop wanting him.

I watched him open his locker enough times that I knew the code, so I could open his locker and snatch his sweaty jock after he headed to the sauna. The first time I jacked sniffing on his jock and socks, I came so hard I thought I would start bleeding. 

I thought I’d flown under the radar, but on Good Friday, it was slow and quiet at the gym. I was almost dressed when he came over, in his trademark yellow shorts. 

“So,” he said. “Take a good look, man.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I stammered. 

“Sure you do, faggot,” he said, rubbing his furry belly. “Take a fucking look, asshole!” 

He saw me flinching at those words. “Well, what else do I call a guy who steals my jockstrap and my socks?” 

He stepped closer. 

“You need to understand that I don’t let anyone run my show. Not my wife, and not some fuckin’ dude in the locker room. When I’m ready for you to sniff a part of me, I’ll fuckin’ tell you.” 

“Yeah, okay,” I said nervously.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. 

He started to walk away, then turned around. “And when I’m ready for you to suck on my big cock, then, you’d better be ready to do it. Understood?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

Damn, maybe I should have been obvious a hell of a lot sooner. It might have scored me some married dad cock a lot earlier…..

[homoeroticwords]

If you like this story, follow @mightymeatybeef, the author

[spunkeater]

[mightymeatycock-deactivated2018]

Hamilton Bauer is a blindingly handsome man, and a very influential and powerful one. That’s how he got to be CEO of our company. 

What I couldn’t put together was why he took such an apparent interest in me, a lowly legal assistant. From the first time we met, he seemed to be looking at me in a way that’s hard to describe - almost like he was looking right through me. 

Something about him struck me as vaguely familiar, too, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was about him. Was he the daddy stud I’d dreamed about? 

After I was there for a few weeks, he started asking me to join him at lunch, then for after work cocktails. 

Last Friday, after we walked back to the office, he had that look on his face. I had to break the ice. 

“Sir?” I said to Mr. Bauer. “Am I….missing something? I’ve very much liked our time together, but….I’m wondering why you picked me!” 

“You don’t remember, do you, Chris?” he asked. “You don’t remember the tall, quiet guy at the other end of the athletic residence hall?” 

The eyes. Of course. What was his name…..?

“I wasn’t too memorable then, my C minus average, my long hair, even my boring name - Jeff Smith,” he said. 

“Oh, fuck,” was all I could say. 

“Have I made you feel uncomfortable?” he said, worried. 

“No, sir. I’m embarrassed. That I didn’t recognize you earlier.”

Hamilton Bauer stepped closer to me. He may have been just Jeff before, but this man, this self-made man, was in complete control. 

“I remember the last time I saw you. I was graduating, and you were finishing your freshman year. And that horrible oaf quarterback was in your room, the one that teased you, and you were sucking his cock.”

Oh, fuck. He saw that? 

“And I kept thinking how much I wanted you to do the same to me. How sweet that ass was, sticking up in the air, and how much I wanted to be inside.” He looked down with a smirk. “It still looks like a beautiful ass. A nice, round, fuckable ass.” 

“Well, sir, you know best. I think we have an opportunity for synergy here, don’t we?” 

A few minutes later, we were in Hamilton’s office, me peeling off his tie, his size 14 dress shoes, watching his dick get hard, the same big, long dangler I remembered from those communal showers. 

“Kneel down, Chris,” he commanded. “Suck me like you sucked him all those years before. Real loud, with a lot of slurping. Let me hear how much you want my cum.” 

[homoeroticwords]

If you like this story, follow @mightymeatybeef, the original author

[dilferotica]

The haircut

[mightymeatycock-deactivated2018]

A few months back I discovered a great barber shop not far from my office. It was a little out of the way, so it wasn’t usually busy, but they were the kind of barbers I’d been looking for. 

Ones who knew how to handle a man-sized head, who knew how to work a pair of clippers around my bulldog head and bulldog neck rolls. It didn’t hurt that Doc, my favorite barber, was a hot bearded, tattooed daddy in his fifties. 

Getting a haircut has always been a sensual experience for me. Feeling a man’s hands on me, the gentle vibrations of the clippers, makes me rock hard every time I’m in the chair. 

Doc asked me to come in later today, so I went for the last cut after work. It was Doc and his fellow barber Rodney, a tall black dude who used to be a Marine and often handled the clients who wanted a shaved head or flattop.  

I was in the chair and trying to focus on what Doc was saying, but I couldn’t stop looking at Rodney’s client. 

“Tilt your head down, Jack,” i heard Rodney say. 

Jack was getting his head shaved, or clipped to the scalp. He was handsome as fuck, a slight growth of hair on his chin, and even in the cool weather, he had sandals on, showing off a huge pair of feet. 

I just couldn’t stop staring. Hot dude, big feet, and Doc’s hands on my head were making me out-of-control horny. 

“I think we got him, guys,” Doc said, nodding to his coworker. “We got him on the hook. Hey, Jack, we got him.”

Jack looked at me. “Yeah, he’s staring at me. Staring at those big feet, huh?” 

Doc walked to the door, locked up and pulled down the blinds. Jack took the black smock off of his lap, and grabbed the bulge in his shorts. 

“Hey,” he said to me, pointing at his crotch. “Get over here.”

I walked over to him and knelt before him, taking one sandal off and then the other. Size 14, read the writing on one. I started sucking on his big toes and licking his feet. 

“Fuck yeah, this one’s a hungry fucker,” he growled. 

I looked up and saw Doc with his cock in hand, a hot, long uncut piece. Rodney’s thick dark dick hung down inches from my forehead. 

Jack grabbed the base of his big banana dick with one hand, and my head with the other, guiding my mouth onto his fat piece.

“Ah, fuck, suck it,” he bellowed. “Lick my nuts, too.” 

I tongued Jack’s balls, and took a good long whiff. I was surrounded by beef and cock, with Doc and Rodney stroking inches from my face. 

Jack’s hands pushed the back of my head onto Rodney’s cock, then Doc’s. 

Suddenly, Jack stood up, his dick bouncing and pointing up.

“Get in that fucking chair,” he ordered. The grin on his face, the look in his eyes, and that huge cock pulsing almost made me cum right there. 

Doc leaned the chair back, greasing up his cock with some kind of pomade, and slid into my hole.

“I’ll open him up for you, boys,” Doc said. 

I wanted to say something, but Rodney kept slapping his cock on my face. 

Jack was at my head, and I felt his thick cockhead bouncing near my face. I heard Doc grunt, and felt his load flood me. 

Rodney was next, and I thought I was gonna pass out from the sheer feeling of being filled up. Dude had a seriously long, thick dick, ramrod straight. Rodney eased his way in, and it wasn’t long before he sunk his cock deep and came inside me, too.

Jack stepped up, spreading my legs open.

“Ready for me?” Jack asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. Dude rammed all nine fat inches of his banana dick deep in my hole. Hard, and rough, and deep. 

“More,” I said, defiantly looking up at Jack. 

He leaned over, and spit in my face, jamming his fingers in my mouth as his cock rode my hole. 

Rodney and Doc held my legs open and Jack balanced himself on the chair, holding onto the chair handles, fucking pummeling my ass with his cock.

“I’m gonna breed you, bitch,” he said. “Beg me for it.”

“Breed me, please!” I said. “Mark your territory! I want it!”

“That’s fuckin’ RIGHT,” he moaned. “My cock OWNS this fuckin’ HOLE!” Jack roared as his cock twitched and squirted inside of me. 

Doc had his cock in his hand, and it popped out a second load watching Jack nut inside of me.  

Jack grabbed my cock, while Doc rubbed his cockhead, dripping with cum, under my nose. I moaned and shot clear up over my head. 

We all sat for a minute and then started to pull our stuff together, Doc got dressed and then started to sweep the floor, hair mixing together with spurts of cum. 

“Welcome to the club,” Doc told me. 

“Club?” I asked. 

“Yep, our private mens’ club,” Jack answered. 

“How’d I get in?” I asked. 

“We had an opening,” Doc said. “Our last guy moved across country. We needed a new guy that loved taking cock. And the way you looked at us, at every dude that walks in, figured you might be the one.” 

Jack had on his jacket and was taking off. He leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“Be back next Wednesday, and bring a good box of cigars,” he said. “I’ll bring a few of my Air Force buddies.” 

Thanks to @dilferotica for the photo and for help with this one!!

[homoeroticwords]

If you like this story, follow the author @mightymeatybeef for more.

[billthedrake]

This is a long story, expanded from an earlier Tumblr post, and may be something I still revise. But I thought I'd share as is for now.

THE SPORTS ILLUSTRATED JINX

SCOUTING

Doing that cover was how I met my partner, my first one at least.

The Sports Illustrated issue had just dropped. A big cover photo of me, looking serious and posting with my bat, and the words "Miracle Worker" in big letters over my image. I was winding down my rookie season in the majors at the age of 21, a season over which I'd exceeded high expectations. Life was good.

"Don't pay any attention to that jinx business," a man said as I was out at a high-end steakhouse after a game, enjoying a drink in the bar area. "It's all bullshit."

The man was my type to a T. Late 40s, sturdy build, some gray in his medium-length hair, masculine dad-next-door looks. He had on a nicely tailored navy patterned suit, not too flashy, not too conservative, and a powder-blue dress shirt with no tie. Daddy had amazing pecs and kept his midsection trim.

I am often guarded in public, but I gave him a big smile. "Yeah?" I asked. "I sure hope so."

This man had an easy way about him. Confident, but not overly so. "It's definitely BS," he added. "Look at Trout. Didn't hurt his career one bit." His blue eyes seemed to sparkle as he talked, and I had to wonder if I was reading too much interest in them. Sexual interest. "But you don't need me to tell ya that, man."

I shrugged. "Well given how many people have brought up that fucking jinx," I said, "it's nice to hear a different point of view." I extended my hand. "Luke... nice to meet you." I mean, the guy clearly knew who I was, but I wanted to know who he was.

"Dan Ogle," he said, as he clasped my hand with an equally strong grip. In baseball you judge a man by his handshake. Dan was used to being judged. "It's an honor to meet you."

"You in the business?" I ventured.

"It shows?" he chuckled. "Yeah, I'm a scout. Was with the Orioles organization and now work independent."

"Smart move," I quipped. "The Orioles seem a mess lately."

"Ouch," he laughed harder. "That's tough, man." He gave my shoulder a friendly, gladhanding pat for a second. "Listen... I'm here to meet an agent buddy of mine..."

Something about his eye contact made me wonder if I could make a move. "Let me give you my number, Dan," I said.

The way his eyes lit up said I'd made the right call. Maybe he was just star struck. But I'd work that in my favor if it meant seeing more of that sun-weathered face and those sea-blue eyes. He pulled out his phone, and I told him my number.

***

The first drinks I grabbed with the guy was basically a date. We didn't call it that. But we made the usual small talk. Dan knew a lot more about me than I did about him. So I had him tell me his bio. He'd played in the minors before getting into the coaching side in some single-A team. Frustrated by the lack of opportunities there, he went into scouting. Was married once, no kids, divorced at 38.

I talked more about what it was like to be a star. Even if Dan Ogle was never a magazine-cover caliber player, he understood me. The benefits of being idolized and famous, and the drawbacks. I didn't talk about the latter with a lot of guys, but I felt I could with this pro-ball veteran.

Our eye contact got heavier as we talked. Like we knew what we were dancing around without coming out and saying it. Finally, I asked, "So, Dan... you able to be discreet?"

Without missing a beat he nodded. "Oh yeah. Absolutely." Those sea blue eyes staring back at me, with clear expectation.

"It's been a couple of months since I've gotten laid," I said, laying my cards on the table.

He let out a playful whistle. "Way too long, Luke."

"What about you?" I asked, finally nudging his knee under the bar. This was gonna happen, and I knew, and I was throwing hard in anticipation.

"About the same," he smirked.

"We should go fix that," I hissed.

"Now?" It wasn't a question of surprise. More, Dan was trying to read what was on my mind.

"If you're up for it... yeah, now." I knew my voice was getting that horny edge to it.

We settled up our check and I went over to Dan's hotel room. I wondered if we were going to have more conversation, maybe figure out what each other was into sexually. I was strictly top or into getting serviced. I normally got my way, but sometimes older guys think it should be the other way around.

But we didn't talk. Instead we met for a kiss as we rapidly stripped off our clothes. I'd barely unbuttoned my jeans when Dan crouched down in front of me, pawing my crotch and reaching in to pull out my cock.

"Damn, that's a big dick," he gasped. And then revealing he did not find that a problem in the least, the middle-aged ex-jock leaned forward and started sucking me.

"Holy shit!" I laughed. I wasn't 100% surprised Dan Ogle sucked cock. After all, I'd met up with older guys who liked to fool around. But I was surprised he was so into it, so good at it. He sucked me fast and hard, like it was his last cock ever. I didn't think that the almost rough sucking would feel good, but it was incredible. Those long fast mouth strokes and that heavy suction were gonna get me to nut, too soon.

"Ease up, man!" I gasped. "I'm almost cumming."

The veteran ex-jock spit out my prick and sucked in some air, as he swallowed that excess spit. "Yeah?" he teased, now hand stroking my bat. "What would be wrong with that?" The man was horny, and I loved how thrilled he seemed to be about sex. No hang ups whatsoever. That was a first for me, actually.

"Come on, man," I almost complained. "Let me at least feel up your body for a bit, you know... enjoy this some."

That took Ogle by surprise. I think he thought I'd just want to shut my eyes and use his mouth or something. Maybe that's what dudes like me had done before with him. Leaning back, he showed off his bare chest. "Didn't think you'd be into all this, man," he smiled.

"You have no fucking idea," I growled. I could unload my daddy issues on Dan later and tell him how I was wired for men over 40, but for now, I just wanted that physical contact with that more mature muscle. "Let's get on the bed," I urged.

I stripped off the rest of the way and ate up the way Dan's eyes feasted on my nakedness and my erect state. Maybe it was the ego boost he needed to strip down all the way and almost pose for me as he got on the bed. His body wasn't perfect but it was pretty damn nice. Strong muscle, just the right amount of hair, amazing legs. Dan had been a catcher back when he played.

His body felt hot to the touch when we embraced. He was a good kisser and seemed to get into the sensual, slow approach. I matched his speed, even as I was horny as fuck and leaking against his furry belly. We made out and rolled around some, and I ended up on top of him. Heart pounding against his chest and his strong grip feeling up my lat muscle.

When I pulled back from our lip lock the 40-something scout had need in his eye. "You wanna be in me, Luke?" he asked softly.

"Hell yes," I growled.

He smiled. "I got some lube in my bag in the bathroom, if you wanna get it. Rubbers if you want, too."

I hoisted my athletic body out of bed and went to get the stuff, my dick sticking straight out like a divining rod. The stuff was easy to find. Indeed next to the small lube bottle there were two foil packets. I loved that a man like Dan came prepared.

I didn't take a condom, though, and I could read Ogle's silent excitement as he saw me empty handed other than the lube. I flipped the cap and squirted the slickness onto my fingers as I got up on the bed. Any other time, I'd enjoy more foreplay and rim him out some. I loved eating ass, and an ex-catcher daddy would be one hell of a feast. But I needed to fuck.

He hissed at the first finger but the second went in like butter. Dan Ogle wasn't a slut bottom, but this wasn't his first rodeo. As I lined up my cock, I was excited to be topping such a hot guy. It was still sinking in that I was a lucky bastard.

"That's good," Dan said softly as I pushed in. His sea blues were looking up, and he was nodding slightly as I pushed on. I knew why. He was tight as fuck and he knew I wouldn't be able to read if he was good to go. Thankfully, he was.

"You have an amazing ass," I grunted as I bottomed out. He was hot and snug and his insides felt alive around my cock.

Dan was horned up, and his dick twitched on his furry belly. He had some love handles but otherwise was total DILF. "I can't believe you're here fucking me," he almost laughed.

I held my body steady for him, his legs on my shoulders. "You ever fantasize about me?"

"Didn't dream to," he admitted.

"But a player like me, right?" I nudged him mentally. "You always wanted to get nailed by a guy like me." That second part was a statement, not a question.

"Jesus," Dan growled, a deep belly growl. "Fuck yes."

"You got it, man," I said and just started fucking. Not hard, but it was a deep steady fuck and I was hung enough for him to feel it.

He stroked as I railed him then let go when he was getting too close.

"Go ahead," I urged. "I'm pretty close, too."

I watched him stroke and I watched his hand work up his pleasure in tandem with the internal stimulation I was giving him. Then I watched the 40-something ex-catcher spew his pearly white seed all over that gorgeous daddy fur.

"FUCK!" I grunted and felt my own cum rising up, all of a sudden. Two months was a long time between lays. I held his legs tightly and humped his ass with a couple of final fast strokes.

I was flush red and breathing fast as I came down. Dan laughed at me some, and I laughed with him. "I needed that, buddy," I said, giving his meaty chest a playful dual fist bump before I leaned back and slowly pulled out.

I had to watch the slight creampie in his hole before it shut back up. A conquest trophy.

"I could tell," Dan grinned as he lowered his legs and shook out the stiffness. "I don't normally like it missionary, but that was hot as fuck."

I grinned, plopping down on the bed. "It was."

Dan gave me one last look, like he still couldn't believe his luck and still couldn't believe this happened. I got that look a lot, and I always ate it up. "Gonna shower off," he announced.

He was back to normal when he got back. A little quiet, maybe moody. I didn't know his deal, but I wasn't gonna find out. I took a piss and got dressed.

"Take care, man," I said as I got ready to leave. He was on his phone, checking on texts or something.

He looked up. "Yeah. Have a good one."

I got the message. One time thing. OK by me. I was a player, a hunter, always onto the next lay. One time things were my MO.

Only the next morning I awoke to a text. Dan Ogle's text, sent fifteen minutes earlier. "I got an 11AM plane to catch. But maybe I can interest you in a morning BJ before I go?"

I texted him a thumbs up and my hotel and room number.

DRAFTED

It's not as easy having groupie sex when you're into guys as when you're straight. But it happens for me far more than you'd imagine. I just have to be cautious with my approach, feel a guy out. The thing is, if a guy has a remote bi-curious streak, it's almost a sure thing that a star athlete will be able to exploit it. The star struck thing goes a long fucking way, and guys felt excited to be close to me. Even if only for an hour or a night, they were getting one-on-one Luke Fulton time.

My first groupie was when I was still in the minors. But I was clearly a top prospect in the farm system and come Spring Training I had a chance to practice and play with the big league guys.

I was gathering up my stuff after an afternoon game versus the Tigers when I saw him. A few of the guys would meet with fans after, but this man seemed to be waiting for me. He was very much a typical corporate looking dude. Medium height, golf shirt, golf tan, khaki shorts, ball cap, expensive watch, dad sneakers. Meaty dadbod build filling it all out and looking pretty good for a man in his 50s.

"Hi Luke," he said, polite but also forward. "Can I get your autograph?"

That was my first request for one, actually. I smiled. "Yeah?" I said, registering my surprise. "Um, sure."

I walked up and set down my bag. He handed me a pad and a pen. "You're gonna be the biggest star," he said, referencing the pro team name whose roster I was vying for. His gaze was on me, like he was trying to memorize the whole encounter for later. That was my first taste of groupies, the way they might not even be showing sexual interest but they clearly are into me and being around me.

"I'm not 21 yet," I reminded him.

"Well, I've been watching your progress. Ever since the draft." OK, Corporate Dude was one of THOSE fans.

"Who should I make this out to?" I asked, maintaining equally heavy eye contact. Corporate Daddy was good looking in a normal way, and that turned me on, too. He reminded me of the men in my hometown. I even flashed a wink, nothing too over the top, but doing as much flirting as I dared.

"Jim," he said. "God..." he continued as he watched me write my dedication and sign my name. "This is really cool."

I looked up and flashed my grin. "Isn't this what you come to Spring Training for?" I asked. "To meet the players?" Maybe I was starting to lay it on thick.

Jim was gung ho, though. "It's my second year here, but yeah... the chance to talk to you guys is incredible."

His eye contact was heavy and his wedding band made me think he wasn't the blabbing type. I still consider a band the best insurance when hitting on a guy. I took another paper out of that pad and wrote my number on it.

The man seemed embarrassed. "What's that for?" He asked.

Goddamnit. I guess I misjudged. "Never mind," I said, maybe a little curtly. After all, it wasn't any guy I gave my number. I started to grab the paper back.

He blushed, getting it, really getting. "Oh. That's cool, that's man. I'll keep it. If that's OK."

I nodded. "Just keep it private, OK?" I meant my number but also the fact that I'd given it to him.

"Oh yeah," he said.

I gave him one more wink and picked up my bag to walk back to the locker room.

It was an hour later when I got a text. "Hey. It's Jim. Thanks for giving me your number."

"Thanks for using it," I typed back. I was hanging out with some of the guys from the team, about to get some dinner.

I didn't hear back for a few minutes, then I got another text. "I don't normally do this kind of thing."

"It's cool man. I don't bite. No strings no expectations." I didn't have my mojo down, but I knew with a guy like this corporate dad you had to reassure him.

"What are you looking for?" I could almost sense his nervousness on his end.

"That's something better talked about in person," I wrote.

"Yeah," he acknowledged. Then "I'm around all week."

"Tonight?" I wrote. "9?"

"Yes."

He gave me his hotel info, which worked better. I was in a good mood when I showed up and gave a soft knock.

Jim had a nervous, naughty look as he ushered me in. "Hey..." he said as he shut the door behind me. "I shouldn't be doing this."

I got it. I'd met married men with misgivings before, but none as strong as this man's.

I paused and looked at him, giving him my best friendly expression. Giving him an out. "It's up to you, man. I'm not gonna pressure you."

He thought for a second. It was like I knew what he was thinking. Wondering if he'd ever get another chance at this. "I wanna," he replied.

"Cool," I said and stepped up to him. I'm used to seeing athletes and coaches all day, so sometimes a normal build like Jim's pales in comparison. But now that I was there, up close, he looked pretty damn fine. My hand touched his chest through his golf shirt and moved down to feel up his sides. I drew him closer to me, being forward now to claim a kiss off him.

He grunted as our lips met. I slipped my tongue forward and felt his excitement grow as his lips part and accepted it. We made out for a minute, which is the surest way to get my motor running. I was rock hard now, for sure.

I pulled back and examined his handsome face. "I guess I should have asked if you kissed," I said.

He exhaled a breath he'd been holding. "Yeah... that was my first kiss with a man, actually."

I cocked a grin. "Whaddya think?"

"'s pretty wild," he answered honestly. "But good."

My fingers now caressed his side, and I could sense he was getting majorly hard, too. "You done anything with a guy?" I needed to know where I stood.

He shook his head. "Back in college. You know some fooling around with fraternity brothers. A couple of blow jobs, that kind of thing."

I cocked my eyebrow. "You ever give one?"

Jim blushed some, making his reddish tan redder. "Yeah... it was years ago."

I pulled him closer to me, so he could feel my hardon against his own. "I'd very much enjoy getting one, man... if you're up for it." He was warming up to the idea, I could tell, but I wanted to head off any hesitation. "It's just us here. No one's gonna know."

"I don't know if I'm any good," he objected.

I moved my hand up and patted his shoulder. "Trust me, I'll love it." I didn't throw in a "pretty, please," but I was being as gradual and coaxing as I knew how to be. "Come on, why don't you sit on the bed?"

He nodded and stepped back from me. He was rock hard in his khaki shorts, which was a good sign. And as he settled on his hotel bed, his look was one of excitement more than nervousness.

I didn't want to spook him, but I was getting crazy horny. Jim was pushing my buttons big time. I stepped up till I stood about a foot in front of him. Then slowly, I undid my shorts and pulled out my boner.

Some guys comment on my size when they first see my endowment, but Jim just silently watched, eyes going wide.

"It's OK, bud," I assured him. "Just take what you feel comfortable with." I scooted closer so my hardon was an inch or so away from him. His licks were tentative, then less so. I could sense the novelty for him, and the thrill that came with that. I knew this was the last thing he expected to be doing on this trip.

"You've done this before, man," I urged. "You got this."

He nodded and then opened his lips to take me in. He bobbed up and down on a few inches. Jim wasn't lying. He wasn't any good at this. But I loved the feeling of his warm mouth and the wet tongue against my steel-hard dick. And I loved the rush of seeing this regular married daddy servicing me. I let him do his thing for a minute then spoke again.

"Feels nice," I encouraged him. Then, "Just suck me like you enjoy being sucked, man."

That seemed to make something click for him, and he adjusted his blowjob. Jim wasn't gonna be a pro cocksucker any time soon, but THIS was a lot better. He flinched when my hand touched his hair, but when he realized I was just gonna stroke his head in encouragement he relaxed back into it.

"Take your time, bud," I hissed, spreading my stance a little. "Takes me a good couple of minutes to work up a head of steam. But this feels awesome."

It did, and the physical sensations were starting to build up. But I also imagined this guy sucking dudes back home, showing off what he'd learned on me. That was the trigger that got me off.

"You better swallow, man," I growled. Mr. Easygoing was gone. I didn't want him pulling off. Maybe my fingers curled around the back of his head to keep him from retreating.

He grunted. Agreement, I guess. But he kept sucking as I spurted into his craw. I heard a choked sound, but it wasn't an actual choking. Mostly a grunt of excitement as he tasted, then swallowed, as fast I was pumping more sperm into his mouth and throat.

"Damn, that was nice," I hissed as I let go of his head and finally stepped back out of his sucking mouth.

"Did I do OK?" he asked, voice thick with my cum still. Something about that question was adorable and exciting both.

I smiled. "Fuck yea you did." I nodded down to his hard crotch. "You need to get off?"

He unzipped. Clearly, sucking me had worked him up. He spit into his palm and I watched him start pulling his pud. It wasn't gonna take him long, not from the excited look in his eyes and the fast fist motion. I stepped closer and let my dong sway in front of his face.

That got him going. "You got a great cock," he admitted.

"And you sucked it," I reminded him.

"Yes," he grunted, and like that he was cumming.

"That's it, man," I urged.

Our release complete, I stepped back and tucked back in as he wiped himself with a Kleenex. His mood shifted some.

"We good man?" I asked. He could have all the guilt pangs he wanted, but I didn't want a full-on freak out.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Thanks for that.... I'm gonna remember that for a long while."

"If you wanna make some more memories this week, you know where to reach me."

***

I wasn't always confident. I'd almost been too scared to hook up that first time. But I was horny and I knew from porn and fuck-fiction stories that I craved to top an older man. I'd barely turned 18 when I set up an online account. I hated the first site I used, but I found another. I got more comfortable chatting. I started just chatting with men who lived in a different part of the country. The majority of daddies weren't into bottoming, at least not for a guy my age, but I was up front in my profile and enjoyed the ones who did or would consider themselves bottoms. I learned to play off their desires. I learned how to flirt online.

It was a month before I took the plunge. I drove forty miles to meet a 45 year old bi guy. He wasn't as hot as his pictures, but I went with it, letting him suck me. For a first blowjob, I'd picked out a pro. He milked a heavy load out of me, and as he pulled back and caressed my balls he said, "I bet you got another load in these nuts."

So I got a second BJ right then and there. I didn't mind the long drive home, I was so satisfied. I was hooked.

I fucked my first ass a couple months later. He was a closeted TV news guy into young jocks. Great body, deep voice, and a very accommodating ass. We didn't date, but I became a regular fuck buddy with him and learned the ropes. Learned the technique of topping but also the etiquette of sex between men, especially between closeted men. I learned the art of sweet talking and got a sense of what made older studs like Newsman Ken put out.

The baseball draft changed my life. I had a long talk with Coach Kellerman about going pro at 18, and it felt like the right thing. It was an opportunity that I wasn't sure would work out for me if I went to college.

My life was all baseball for a while in the minors, and I had a year of a dry spell as I figured out what I could get away with. But soon I was back to the apps and realizing that I was able to draw hot daddies on a no-strings basis.

And I realized I craved variety. Small-city businessmen were my normal prey. In general the type turned me on, but mostly they had a lot to lose. They weren't gonna gossip about the pro star who fucked men instead of women. I stuck to oral service mostly because that was easier and easier to find.

Until Dan Ogle, fucking a daddy was a special occasion treat.

THE JINX

I was addicted to sex with Dan Ogle. And the intense friendship I had with him, one that overlapped to a shared professional relationship. We lived in different cities but would talk every day and text nonstop.

I felt those stirrings of major infatuation before I was honest with myself. I told myself at first simply that I couldn't get enough baseball-veteran ass. A catcher's ass. A prime daddy ass. A hungry ass. It was with Dan that I really became ass focused, and I enjoyed learning what positions drove me and him the wildest. In turn, Dan Ogle became a grade-A power bottom daddy. He had a textbook mid-life crisis, discovering his attraction to men in his late 40s. And, fuck, Dan Ogle went all in.

The man was in love with me, too, in his way, though outside of the bedroom he was stoic as hell.

I finally asked Dan to move in with me. It took a few months to persuade him. Then it was a major honeymoon period. Hot sex for every home game stretch and a lot of the away games too, since Dan would travel with me half the time. We weren't married, and it wasn't legal, but I still think of Dan as my first husband.

To the outside world, Dan Ogle worked for me in an advisory capacity. Not an agent and not a trainer, but more a professional mentor-coach who oversaw my training and overall athletic plan.

ESPN Magazine did a profile of me that listed him as my "secret weapon" and "Svengali." Mentioned how he had his own live-in apartment in my mansion and that he met me every morning for yoga and a high-protein breakfast before we went over my day's activities. If anyone cared to read between the lines... well, that's the advantage of being a guy like me, I guess. People rarely did.

***

My roving eye wouldn't stop though. I chalked it up to road-trip syndrome. Dan had his own work, his own clients to attend to. And he felt nervous about being seen with me too much.

The groupies filled the void. I had my mojo down, and it felt too easy. It certainly was fun as hell.

Dan had his suspicions, and I didn't like keeping secrets. By mid-summer, I told him what he kind of already knew.

"How's the supposed to make me feel, Luke?" he asked. Mr. Stoic was surprisingly emotional.

"Sorry, Dan," I said. "I'm just a horny guy."

"You're not sorry," he said. "And fuck you!"

"I don't know what to say," I replied, taken aback. I did feel bad, but I also knew Dan was right. I felt every bit as young and immature as I was.

Dan huffed off and came back with an overnight bag. "I'm going," he said. "I'll get the rest of my shit later."

I was stone silent. Mad, frustrated, sorry, and emotional all at once. I watched him leave.

I was mopey for a while. I knew I'd fucked up a good thing. But the problem was, I knew if I had it to do all over, I probably still would have fucked it up. Maybe a different way. The problem though is to give someone with my desires the body I had and the massive fame I had. There was always going to be temptation, and I was going to be too weak to resist it.

Call it the Sports Illustrated Jinx.

REHAB ASSIGNMENT

I tried to do some soul searching. I could change my ways, turn over a new leaf.

Maybe it was coincidence, but I hit a slump after Dan Ogle left. Like, I couldn't hit worth shit. I made the All-Star team for a second time, but that was based on my prior phenom perfromance and my stardom. It's frustrating because you're letting yourself down but also your team and your fans.

My next groupie was thrilled to meet me all the same. At a series in Pittsburgh, I did a quick meet and autograph signing session with some fans after the game. Maybe it was the loss that made me more appreciative of them.

Pete was pure Luke Fulton bait. Strapping business guy type in his 40s, thick muscled body in his golf shirt, tan and handsome in a clean-cut professional way, wedding band on his ring finger. He had two baseballs for me to sign, one for each of his sons.

"You look familiar," I lied.

That made the man laugh. "I'm pretty sure I'd remember if we'd met," he said, beaming. "I'm still pinching myself, actually."

I flashed a grin. "Well, if you want to hang out later, I'll be in the Fairmount hotel bar."

He got a shy embarrassed look on his face. Unlike some previous men, though, he didn't take long to realize I was propositioning him to be a groupie. "Oh," he said. I could see him process the idea. He might have had some scruples, but his fandom won out. "For real?" he asked me.

I shrugged to give that laid-back look, even if I really hoped this one would pan out. Something about getting a nibble makes you want to reel the big fish in. "If you want man. I don't know Pittsburgh, and I don't have plans."

That seemed to warm Business Guy out of his shyness. "I'd LOVE to show you around," he said. "It's a great city."

"Give me an hour?" I asked. I had to shower and change. Given our losing series, the guys wouldn't be in a partying mood.

"Oh yeah," he said. "See you then." He held up the signed balls. "And thanks!"

I was a few minutes late showing up at the hotel bar, but Pete was there. He'd changed into a more presentable polo shirt. He had that nervous date look until I showed up, then he got a big smile on his face.

"I almost thought you were pulling my leg. My family thinks I was making up meeting you."

Jesus, maybe I was a heel. Still I wanted him and the fact I had the power to attract a regular guy like this had me in lust. I placed my hand on his shoulder.

"I see you already have your drink," I observed.

He had a beer bottle in hand. "Um, yeah... I already got one."

I squeezed his trap muscle with my fingers. Flirting, or at least sending a signal. "Oh, I was going to ask you up to my room for a drink. Maybe after this round." OK, I wasn't going slow with this one. But he gave me a knowing smile, so at least I wasn't messing up my chances.

I got a drink, nothing too strong, and Pete and I made small talk. This was kind of a first for me. He seemed into the whole meet-your-idol thing, so I tried to show him a little of the real Luke Fulton. But I let him talk about his work and how he was born and raised in Pittsburgh but had always followed my team. He even talked about his family, and I was surprised since at least in my experience married guys don't like being reminded that they're stepping out. But he was proud and asked me advice since his eldest son was a baseball player. It was weirdly sweet.

I almost let the big catch off the hook. I mean, I liked Pete a lot and didn't want to pressure him. But he eyed when I was getting down to the bottom of my drink and was the one to bring it up. "Feel like going up to your room, still, Luke?"

My heart pounded. "Yeah, if you're game."

He set his beer down on the bar and gave a laugh which made his handsome face that much more alluring. "I'm game... I still can't believe this."

I patted his back as he led the way out of the bar. We kind of smirked at one another as we waited for the elevator. Pete seemed nervous but also confident in a way that made me wonder if he'd done this before.

The appearance of a couple of young women at the elevator broke the spell, particularly as they started giggling nervously and whispering once they recognized me. Pete looked over with an amused smile. Only when we got to my room did he mention it.

"I bet you get that a lot," he said.

"Those girls?" I asked. "Yeah, it happens a lot."

"I wouldn't have pegged you to go for men," Pete observed, taking a look around my suite. I think the whole hotel vibe added to the sense of my fame for him.

"I don't advertise it," I said, unbuttoning the dress shirt I'd put on. I wanted to me sure he understood the need for discretion.

He turned toward me, his eyes widening as he saw me open my shirt. "Fuck, you have an amazing body."

I peeled off my shirt, showing my bare chest, while I kicked off my shoes. "I'm not sure what experience you have."

"I've fooled around with a golf buddy of mine," Pete admitted. He peeled off his polo. The man had a normal body rather than an athlete's but it was on the very in-shape and muscular side of normal. His chest hair wasn't super thick but he had wiry brown hair down the middle of his torso. He paused and then added, "You know, blow jobs and stuff."

"Very cool," I replied. I was undoing my belt. There was something no nonsense about this guy, even if he was a little crushed out on me. "What happens in this room stays in this room," I assured him.

"Absolutely," he said. He slipped off his shorts and I saw he was chubbing in his briefs. "OK if I feel your body some?"

I stopped undressing and let Pete take over. Compared to other men I'd met with a bi streak, this dude seemed at ease with another man's body. His hands were strong but caressed my muscle gently, openly. It was like he could barely take his eyes off my chest, but he looked up with his brown eyes.

"Luke fucking Fulton," he hissed. Part of his tone gave me the nervous twinge that he'd be the kind to kiss and tell, but I realized he was just playing out his star struck fandom.

"In the flesh," I said, letting my arms go to my side and letting Pete have full rein. "You gonna take care of me, buddy?" I hadn't spelled out the top/bottom dynamic. It didn't hurt to give a reminder.

He nodded like an excited puppy. "Oh yeah... this is so fucking hot."

"Kiss?" I asked.

Pete grinned and nodded, then met me halfway. He was a good kisser, a great kisser. I kissed him back like I hadn't with a guy since Dan Ogle. Pete's golf buddy was one lucky guy.

Already the married man's hands were undoing my slacks and greedily started groping my dong through my underwear. I moaned into his mouth, telling him how much I loved it. Meanwhile, I was pawing at that daddy build beneath his polo shirt. Pete was solid, all right. No dadbod here.

Finally the guy pulled back and then looked down, eager to see my crotch. Peeling the band of my underwear, he slipped it down over my hard prick and further beneath the balls. Letting him see all my family jewels.

"Damn, you're hung," he breathed excitedly.

"You like?" I asked. Some guys got scared by the size, some really turned on. Pete seemed to feel both.

But he looked up again, his game face on. "You want me to suck you, man?"

"I'd love that," I replied in a leer. I now shucked down my slacks mid-thigh, letting my hard dong stick out, throbbing. It had been too long since I'd had real-life sex and this man was pushing all my buttons.

Especially since he was the right combo of ordinary dude and eager bottom. At least oral bottom. I almost made a play for his ass, but he was giving off that inexperienced vibe. Nothing was inexperienced about his giving head. He crouched down, then knelt on the hotel floor, excitement in his eyes as he touched my hard meat.

"Fuck, man," he hissed. "You're bigger than my buddy." He leaned for a closer look, and maybe a smell.

"Just take wha..." I started to say, but already Pete was opening his mouth and swallowing me in.

Married dude knew his way around a cock, that's for sure. I stood, hands on my hips and let him fellate me. Just a few inches at first, up and down, perfect suction. And the sight of him, this hunky daddy servicing me, was getting me going.

Then Pete started sucking further with each bob. Not deep throating but really working my cock with his long mouth strokes. He was going to milk me off quick.

"Fuck!" I gasped. "I'm gonna cum, man."

The businessman moaned around my cock in assent, but already I was firing off. The orgasm felt so good, a combination of the physical and psychological thrill of being serviced like this. I patted his head, a kind of "good boy" pat.

Pete laughed when he pulled off. "Did I do OK?" he asked. Fucker already knew the answer to that.

"More than OK, man," I said. "That was incredible." I was going to offer to get him off, and I could see the boner in his shorts. But the affable Pete was quickly being replaced by the nervous-guilty Pete.

"I really should get home," he said.

"Yeah," I acknowledged. "Thanks for coming by." Maybe I should have said, "thanks for the blowjob," but with married groupies, the direct approach wasn't usually the best.

He gave a shy grin as he stood up. Along with the guilt there was some pride he had at a job well done. And still that thrill he'd met me.

I regretted being one-and-done Luke, because this guy was the kind I would have loved to spend more time with. In any case, I felt super appreciative. "Hey," I said, pulling my underwear and trousers back. "I can get you tickets for the rest of the series, if you like," I offered. "You can take your boys."

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, bringing up his family, but Pete's expression turned 180, into pure happiness. "Yeah?" he asked.

I winked. "I'll get you some good seats. Four tickets work?"

"Man, fuck... yeah, that'd work," he laughed.

I scribbled down my private number and my private email on the hotel stationery pad and folded it, handing it to Pete. "Here... I'll set you up first thing tomorrow."

"Wow," he said. "Thanks. Seriously... this is awesome."

I had no idea if I'd ever see Pete again, but he brought his boys and one of their friends to meet me after the game. I didn't perv on the teens, but I could tell they were going to grow into their daddy's looks, for sure.

The final game of the series we finally won, and I finally homered, a grand slam, no less.

I didn't hook up again with Pete that series, but as I was boarding the plane to our next series, I got an email on my private account.

"I never did show you around Pittsburgh," Pete wrote. "Offer still stands." His email address showed his last name: Reilly.

"I'll take you up on it, next time," I wrote back.

MVP

If you're an athlete who's at all into other men, there's probably no bigger dream fuck than that coach you remember from back in the day. Maybe it was the middle school coach you first popped boners to. Maybe it was the high school coach you fooled around with after practice.

I never crossed any lines with Coach K, but that made him even more alluring to me. Craig Kellerman had been the baseball coach at the Township High School, but he took me under his wing when I was 14, after seeing me at a youth baseball game he was helping out with. It was Kellerman who raised money from business leaders around town to send me to the elite travel program. Coach was the one who put me on the varsity roster right away.

And for four years, Coach K was my confidante and mentor. My dad wasn't in my life, at all, and my coach became my primary father figure. He was the one I talked to when I had to decide to go with the draft at 18. And he was the one who helped me pick my agent.

And, yeah, I was frickin' crushed out on the guy. He was married and nothing ever happened. But I shot a lot of loads thinking about boning Kellerman.

I kept in touch, a lot. When I entered the majors, Kellerman maybe thought I'd leave him and my hometown behind. But I still called the man once a month for long chats. And each off season I came back to the high school to talk to the baseball team, hang out, do some batting practice, that kind of thing.

Maybe Coach didn't know it, but I credit him for finally getting me past my slump. My team was set for a series against the local city team near my hometown. It was the one I grew up rooting for, so I always had mixed feelings playing them. Like, you're a professional and your team is your identity. But deep inside you're still a small kid rooting for that team that has your heart.

I made time for Coach the morning of the first game of the series. He'd driven into the city. As usual, I got him tickets for the series. I offered to pay his hotel room, too, but he declined. "Save the money, Luke," he'd said with a joke when I talked with him on the phone, "Don't spend it all at once."

When I saw him, god the man was so fucking attractive. Beefy and barrel-chested, knotted forearms and thick biceps that showed in his snug T shirt. Kellerman was starting to get some gray in his medium-length blond hair, too, giving him that mousy look and adding to his DILF-iness.

Some of my attraction was that I hadn't be laid since Pittsburgh Pete. I was in a cautious mode, and it wasn't sitting well with my libido.

The body wash scent and warmth of him as he met me in a clasp of a bro hug wasn't helping.

"Luke... so good to see you, man." When I was a player, I was "Fulton," but Coach and I had a more man-to-man rapport now.

"You, too, Coach," I said. Coach was always gonna be "Coach."

We grabbed a coffee and something seemed different this time. Coach asked me about my slump and instead of something judgmental, he was more concerned with how I was dealing with it emotionally. It was the kind of mentor role Dan Ogle had taken over, and one I'd missed. A lot.

So it all came pouring out, the emotional rollercoaster and the struggles I was dealing with this season. A side I couldn't show anyone, but I could show Kellerman. He didn't try to tell me how to fix my swing, but he told me to be true to myself, the player inside me. That probably didn't make sense, but I decided I'd try to tune out the negativity that had been building up.

Finally, I asked Coach how he was doing.

His eyes crinkled a bit and I could see he was holding back some emotion. "Guess it's not been a great summer for me. Kim and I are getting divorced." Mrs. Kellerman taught at my high school, and I always thought of them as a regular couple.

"Damn, Coach..." I said.

He nodded in acknowledgment. "We're just separated for now. But the lawyers are earning their money." He looked at me apologetically. "Sorry to bring it up, Luke."

"Come on, Coach," I objected. "You can talk to me about stuff. Real stuff."

"Thanks," he said, and let out a sigh. "I have a buddy I can talk to, but the other teachers at school... they're kind of picking sides. Anyway," he said, "I guess I never ask. But you got anyone in your life?"

"Like...?" I prodded. Though I had a sense of what he was fishing for.

"You know, a girlfriend... I know you're a big time athlete," though, he added with a wink.

I wasn't gonna tell him. But the honest conversation had me speaking before I stopped myself. "I'm into dudes, Coach. Though no one special."

He looked at me for a second to see if I was pulling his leg. "Well, I'll be damned," he said. "Guess I should have suspected something."

"I don't advertise it," I said curtly.

He seemed to take that. "No, I guess not. Good on you for being honest about yourself, Luke. I just thought I knew you well."

"You do know me well, Coach," I assured him. "Just not where I get my dick wet... sorry for my French, sir."

He laughed. "It's just us men, Luke. And if I can be honest, the only good thing about the divorce is getting my dick wet again." I could tell he was embarrassed to admit that but also enjoying having some guy talk with me.

"Yeah?" I laughed. "You dog."

He chuckled. "Not a ton of action, but yeah... it's been fun."

"Damn, and I hit a dry spell lately." I don't know why I was opening up to Kellerman like this.

"I'm sure you'll get back on your game, Fulton," he said. It was strangely assuring to hear him call me by my last name again. Like we were shooting the breeze in his office after practice. I had so many emotions connected to this man.

"Hope so, Coach."

We wrapped up, since I had to get to the park for the afternoon game. But we bumped fists and said we'd meet up the next day.

***

Stuff got in the way, and it was after the second evening game before I saw Kellerman. I apologized for not breaking away earlier, but he was having none of it. "I love having some Luke time however I get it. For real."

We grabbed a drink. Coach had gotten in to craft beers so I had him pick a spot not far from downtown. After a drink he was loosening up.

"I think the old Luke Fulton is back," he said, as if by proclamation.

"What do you mean?" I laughed.

"The stud. The superstar." Maybe he'd already had a couple of beers at the game.

"You trying to jinx me, Coach?" I teased, pressing my legs into his as we sat at a bar. I loved the feel of his warmth and furry muscle and regretted pulling back.

He looked me in the eye. "Nope, don't believe in that. You don't either."

There was something perceptive about the man. It gave me goosebumps actually.

"No, I don't," I said.

He grinned. "So... tell me why you're having guy trouble."

"I'm not having guy trouble, Coach," I said.

He gave me a stern look. "Don't bullshit me."

"You don't wanna hear, Coach."

"Try me." I could tell he felt bad that I hadn't come out to him before. Maybe even a little mad at me.

"I cheated on a guy, OK?" I swore in a low voice, almost whisper. "I can't keep my fucking dick in my pants, that's my trouble."

I knew I'd directed some anger at him, but I knew Coach understood. "Sorry, Luke. Maybe you're a good guy who's done some not-good things. All of us have some of that in us."

"Not the response I was expecting," I said.

He shrugged. "Divorce will change your perspective for sure."

I was going to ask if Kellerman had cheated, but I realized that would be way over the line. Instead I patted his back. "If there's anything I can do, Coach," I offered.

He just smiled at me. "Some Luke time is just what the doctor ordered, thanks."

I struggled to remove my hand but managed. Somehow.

Coach took a sip of beer, polishing it off. "Want another?"

"Sure. We getting drunk, Coach?" I asked.

"I am," he said. "I got a hotel room and don't have to drive. And it's summer fucking break."

We got another round. "Here's to summer break," I toasted.

"Here's to getting the old Luke Fulton back. I believe in you, buddy."

Coach seemed to be letting loose. "So... who's the guy?"

"The guy?"

"The one you're still hung up on."

I'd confessed a lot but now I really hesitated.

"Come on, Luke, you can trust me."

"Ogle," I finally said.

Kellerman knew exactly who I meant. "Should have figured," he said. "Guess I'm not the quickest guy... maybe because he's older."

"That's my type Coach. Can't get enough of the daddies."

Coach laughed. "Is that what you dudes call it?"

I laughed too. "Yeah, it's what we call it."

I could see two and two add up in his head. And a stunned look on his face.

"Sorry, Coach," I said. "I'm a full-blooded dude."

I could see him blush red. "It's OK... just never thought of it."

"I'm not gonna mess anything up," I said. "Though maybe I have."

It was his turn to pat my back. I couldn't stop that hardon if I tried. And I didn't try, really.

"Hey! Sorry to bother you..." The voice was from a guy in his 40s, looking like every generic 40-something dude in the place. Not overly handsome, but good looking in a way. His shyness added to his attractiveness, I decided. "I just want to say, I'm a huge fan."

"Thanks," I beamed. Flashing my pearly whites. Coach was seeing me in full baseball star mode as I made small talk with the guy, got his name, then shook his hand before telling him good night.

Kellerman had a grin on his face.

"What?" I asked with a laugh.

"You like the attention," he said.

"Maybe," I admitted. "What's wrong with that?"

"Was that guy your type?" Kellerman asked.

I laughed. "You're drunk, Coach."

"Yep," he said. "And I'm ordering another beer," he added. "It's been a shitty few months."

"Sorry, Coach," I said. I flagged the bartender for another round. Coach ordered his typical domestic bottle.

"You're a cheap date, Coach," I teased. OK, the alcohol was wearing down my defenses and my flirtiness was kicking in with the last person I should be flirting with.

Thankfully, Coach was OK with the comment. "You got me tickets for the whole fucking series, Luke." Then he got weirdly quiet and serious. "I really appreciate that you keep in touch."

"Jeez, Coach. You're like a father to me, you know that."

He shrugged in a way that acknowledged the truth of what I was saying. His blue eyes flitted up to meet my gaze. "Is that part of the attraction of older men? The father figure thing?... I don't know a lot about these things."

I felt seen. "You're pretty damn perceptive, Coach. And I have a feeling you're not gonna want me to be in touch much after tonight."

He brushed off my concern. "I'm always gonna want my Luke time, you know that."

Something about that sincerity, and the fact that Kellerman was saying it, gave me a boner. "I'm skating on thin ice here, Coach."

Kellerman seemed to take that in. "Well, I appreciate you opening up for me, Fulton."

"You can open up to me, too, Coach," I replied.

He nodded and had a pained expression on his face, visible even with his drunkenness. "I cheated on Kim. Maybe we were headed to divorce anyway, but it was a shitty thing to do."

"Like you said, Coach, good guys do not-so-good things sometimes."

"Thanks, Fulton."

"You hanging in there, OK?" I asked. I mean, I could enjoy a night out as much as any guy, but Coach was hitting the sauce for sure.

He flashed a smile. "I'm doing OK. For real."

I looked at my empty glass. "I've had enough, Coach. Why don't I cash out?"

He gave a nod. "Can I pay, Luke?"

"No you can not," I said. "It's my pleasure hanging out with you, Coach." Damnit, my flirty side was coming back.

At least Coach was walking normal as we made our way through the hotel lobby to the elevator. It was just us in the elevator. I pressed my floor and Coach pressed his. I couldn't help but smile. The man was so frickin' hot. Beefy chest filling out the fan jersey, thick arms, just the right amount of hair, and those graying temples... I wanted to memorize the details for the stroke session I was about to have.

He seemed to invite my gaze. "Just throwing this out there, Luke... but if you need me to be your Ogle tonight..."

This was not what I was expecting, but I spoke before I could second guess myself. "Yes. Please."

We went to his room, since it would be more discreet. I could sense his body was shaking some as he opened the door. I followed him in and took the liberty of feeling up his strong shoulders. Kellerman had a different build and body than Dan Ogle, but he was solid man, all right.

My touch made Coach stop and hiss. "That feels nice, Fulton."

I stepped up and kissed his neck, moving my hands to his waist to run up beneath the hem of his jersey. "You're so fucking hot, Coach," I growled. "You OK with this?"

A heard a pause then a soft reply. "Yeah, I'm OK. Just never done anything like this."

"We can just do what feels right," I said. I usually pushed men to do what I wanted, but Kellerman was different.

The man turned to face me and we kissed. I was frickin kissing Craig Kellerman.

It was a crazy head rush and my dick was hard as nails.

When we pulled back, Coach K had a playful smile on his face. "Wow, you're good at that."

"Not freaked out?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "Nah... well maybe a little. But that's the turn on, too. Letting that curiosity run free."

I lifted my hand to run along his thick corded neck and up toward his ear. I don't what it was about Kellerman that brought out my seductive side. Usually in my hookups with men, I was used to the straight-curious dudes being star struck. Coach K had some of that idol worship, but I idolized him, too. It felt strangely more mutual.

"Please be as curious as you want, Coach," I said.

I thought I couldn't any harder, but Kellerman tentatively reached out to touch my chest, openly feeling up my athletic muscle. Our eyes locked. He was nervous but into this. "What did you do with Ogle?" he asked, then apologized. "Sorry if that's the wrong thing to say, Luke."

I shook my head. "It's all good, Coach," I assured him. "Dan was my bottom. He sucked me, and I fucked him."

Coach seemed to take that in. "I don't think I'm up for fucking, Luke," he said. "Sorry."

I caressed his neck and nodded. "I'll take whatever Coach time you give me."

Kellerman gave a nervous laugh. "I don't know... I've never..."

I winked. "How would you like to get a blow job, Coach? Just start there."

It clicked for the man. He crouched down in front of me, suppressing his nerves like he was jumping into a cold lake in one quick dive.

"You're hard, Luke," he observed.

"Fuck yeah, I'm hard, Coach," I assured him. "I've carried a bone for you for, like, forever. You know that right?"

"Yeah," he said, like that knowledge was just sinking in.

He touched the mound in my shorts. He let out a surprised hiss, and I did too.

"You're big."

"Yeah, Coach. Guys like that," I assured him. I wasn't sure if he was going to get second thoughts, but I wanted to encourage him as best I could.

"I bet," Kellerman said and started to undo my shorts. It was more methodical than rushed, and I held my impatience in check as he peeled my briefs down over my hardon.

I expected balking, but Coach K was already leaning in and taking me into his mouth.

"Fuck, Coach!" I hissed. I massaged his neck again while the man began to suck me. He wasn't a pro, but he did as I asked and sucked me the way he thought a blowjob should be. Smartly he didn't take too much but just bobbed up and down on a few inches.

This was all incredible. A mind fuck and a half, watching my coach and mentor blow me. That was going to overcome any lack of technique. "Coach... I'm getting close," I hissed. I heard Kellerman moan around my dick. I was a second away from blasting. "Please don't pull off, man!" I urged.

To his credit, Coach didn't. Not even with the gusher I fired into his mouth and throat. He choked a little then got the hang of swallowing my cum. I had to pull back and pull out, his tongue was making me too sensitive.

"Goddamn, Coach," I huffed. "That was fucking incredible."

He looked up with a look of pride. "Yeah Luke?" he asked.

I nodded and squatted half down to hoist his body up. I wasn't horny like before but I kissed him deeply. There was just something profoundly emotional about what just happened. Kellerman might just be a bi-curious divorced man, but he'd given me a huge gift.

I guided the man back to the bed and clumsily we collapsed on the mattress together. Laying side by side, we made out while Kellerman got out of his summer casual clothes. My hands touched every available inch of his bared body. Craig Kellerman was in fine fucking form, strong and lightly furred. A stud daddy. He grinned at how clearly I was into his body.

"I never do the sucking, Coach," I explained. "Not usually. But I owe you."

Leave it to Coach K to be the man to get me to suck my first cock. At 24 no less. I channeled my own advice to him and did what I liked guys doing to me. "Fuck... Luke Fulton..." Kellerman hissed as I went down on him. It was strange. I sort of enjoyed the feeling of cock in my mouth thought psychologically, my ego wasn't crazy about the idea. But I was crazy for Kellerman and everything he represented to me. If I'd had the chance to do this at 16 I would have been Coach's cocksucker no questions.

So I focused on my lust for him and my desire to give him the pleasure he gave me. It didn't take long. "Luke..." he warned.

Now or never, I stayed on that dick and felt the head swell before I tasted the briny seed spurt out on to my tongue. It was thick, then the next shot was more watery. It was novel, and I wondered if I should let go of some of my hangups. For now, I swallowed him down and then pulled off.

Coach barely gave me a chance to get a good breath of air before he pulled me into a kiss.

"Is this OK?" he asked as he snuggled up to me. His body was warm and felt amazing. I didn't have a fuck hard but I was bricking up again from the contact.

"Is what OK? I gave a little laugh to see my mentor show his insecure side.

"Just holding you. It's been a while since I've been close to another person."

"It's been a while for me, too, Coach," I assured him. We kissed.

He had a thoughtful look on his face as we broke the kiss. "You know, I thought I'd be weirded out more. Being with a guy."

"You enjoyed it, right?" I asked.

He nodded. "Very much. It's just not how I think of myself."

"I'm not putting labels on you, Coach," I said, running my hand along his strong knotted arm. "Other than 'hot as fuck'."

Kellerman laughed. "You too, buddy."

"Can I sleep here, Coach?" I asked softly.

Coach K said "definitely" and met me in a soft kiss.

CONTRACT RENEGOTIATION

When I got back home I stayed in close touch with Craig Kellerman. Nothing was too new about that, but we began texting daily and something was just different. It was the sex, but more than that. The fact I'd shared my secret about Dan Ogle and he'd opened up about his divorce meant we were bonding emotionally. That was the challenge of being a professional baseball star. You build up these walls around you. Coach K was someone I could now trust and confide in.

I still flirted with Coach, and told him any time he wanted to come visit he should. I'd be back in my hometown too in the off season. I didn't spell it out, but I would love a repeat of the sex we had. Maybe it would happen, maybe it wouldn't, but I had a feeling I could persuade Coach for a repeat.

My season ended up on a high note. In the batter's box my confidence was back and my stats were back up. Our team didn't make the playoffs, but we were finishing on a good note otherwise.

I thought of getting a second home in Florida, since I always found the proportion of daddies to be higher there... kid in a candy store syndrome, I guess. But I stayed put, at least for now.

I hadn't expected Dan Ogle to stick around the city. But I was out one night, pretty late, after a game, at one of the higher end restaurant-bars. I liked this place because the bartenders and staff looked out for me and made sure I was more or less left alone. They had a VIP room if I wanted real privacy, but that night I was grabbing a small bite at the bar.

Dan must have been wrapping up a meal there, because he'd spotted me and came over. He had a nervous look on his face. "Hey Luke," he greeted.

Maybe I was nervous too. "Hey, Dan." God, he was somehow even more handsome, in his sportcoat and dress shirt, looking great for his early 50s, salt and pepper hair growing out some more since last I saw him. Not that I cared too much, but he'd also slimmed down his waist.

"Out alone?" he asked. I knew he was mad at me still, and hurt, but he didn't seem as mad as I expected. His eyes were looking at me like he wanted me. I wanted him, too, as much as ever.

"Yep," I said. "Didn't feel like going out with the guys after a loss, you know?"

"Tough," Dan said. "It was a close one in the 8th."

"So you're a fan now, huh?" I smiled, referencing my team name.

"Always," Dan said, relaxing into a grin of his own. He then got a cynical laugh and shook his head. "God, this is probably a mistake.... Fuck."

"What?" I said, turning in my bar stool to face him more. He might be able to see the boner in my trousers, I didn't know.

"Coming over here."

I gave him as encouraging a look as I could. "I'm glad you did, Dan."

He gave me a deeper look and gulped. "Well, great to see you Luke."

"Great to see you, Dan," I said.

Things felt lonely after he left. Even the bar area was clearing out. I closed out my tab and went back to my place.

I didn't have to wait long for a text though. I'd barely gotten home when I got a notification from Dan. "I miss you, Luke."

My heart beat. "I miss you, too," I wrote back.

"Wanna come over and pound me into the mattress?"

This was our old dynamic back, at least the sexting part and the return of Ogle the Power Bottom. I didn't know if Dan just offering a booty call or wanted more. I'd be happy either way.

"I don't know where you live," I typed. Hopefully that didn't sound blunt, but it was the truth.

His reply was just an address. I figured out how long it would take to drive there.

"Give me twenty five."

"Yup."

I was boned the drive over but nervous as I approached Dan's condo. It was a nice place, the kind of luxury condo a single man doing OK for himself would live in. I sauntered up and knocked on the door.

Yep, it was power bottom Dan who opened the door, naked and hot as fuck. As I stepped in I got a look at his slimmed down body. Strong chest and arms, meaty shoulders but a trimmer waist. He'd let his fur grow in more and looked great.

"Hey," I said, nervous and horny.

"Damnit, Luke," he growled and reached forward to pull me into a kiss. Dan Ogle was in heat, and as we made out he writhed against me, practically sucking my tongue into his mouth.

It took me a second to regain the initiative, but it came back to me, like riding a bike. I was gonna nail Dan's daddy ass again.

I reached down and griped his meaty cheeks. Dan had a prize winning ass, and it seemed fuller and harder. I kneaded those buns as we made out and pried them apart, dipping my finger deeper into the cleft.

I felt the slick wetness of lubricant, which drove me wild. I hoisted Dan up onto the nearest table, hoping to God it would hold his weight. It did, thanks to the hold he had around my neck as he looked up to me with expectation.

I nodded, telepathically letting him know I was on his wavelength. I reached down and unzipped, and my hard cock practically released itself, sticking straight up in a line toward his ass.

I leaned back in and kissed him deeply again. There was a lot of pent up emotion, sure, but also just pure sexual need. Dan and I just clicked, and the anticipation of another fuck had us wild.

I pushed my prick against his hole, eliciting a grunt into my mouth.

I pulled back. "Tell me you need it, Dan. Tell me you need my cock."

His eyes were wild. It's hard to describe the power of having a 52 year old man looking up at you with the need and vulnerability Dan Ogle had at that moment. I thought of what Coach K had said about me looking for a father figure. As I nudged my prick into the dent of his sensitive lubed pucker, I realized Coach was right. I fucked Dan in some fucked up quest to compensate for my missing father. I fucked other men in that same quest. I'd never be satisfied, not fully, but I'd have a hell of a lot of fun trying.

"Yes," Dan grunted when I breached him.

"Back in the saddle, Ogle," I hissed. He was tight but not giving me too much resistance. Dan had been taking cock over the last year.

I powered in, feeling his fingers grip my shoulder muscle. And again. Fucking him now. I didn't want to hurt him, but the man seemed to crave it hard, a little rough, even. So I gave him the full Luke Fulton ride. Athletic, sweaty, hard fucking. And he held on, his cock rock hard the whole time as I nailed him.

"Get it, Luke," Dan growled, that power bottom urgency coming back. Our eyes locked, and my head went light. Before I knew it, I was cumming, hard, shooting inside the man.

His dick wasn't lubed, but either he was leaking like crazy or he didn't mind a little friction. He reached down and jerked off for a few seconds to bring himself into orgasm, with my spermy cock still sawing in and out of his ass.

"Fuck!" he finally hissed.

"Yeah, 'fuck'... " I agreed. "I am SO glad you wanted that."

He seemed embarrassed now that he'd nutted and I gingerly pulled out and helped him down from the table.

Still, he seemed in awe of my prick, which hung half hard. Playfully he reached out and cupped his hand around its girth. "This is an amazing cock, Fulton."

I nodded. "I know," I grinned.

Somehow, that made Dan laugh, which broke the tension.

"Want a beer?" he asked. "You can stay over."

"Yeah."

Dan stayed naked, so I kicked off my jeans, and peeled off my shirt, and enjoyed this. Like old times.

We hung out in the kitchen like that. Naked and recovering for round two.

"You were a dick to me," he said. "You know that, right?"

"I do," I said. "I didn't expect you'd speak to me again."

"Well, I have to take some responsibility, too," he said. "We never talked about our relationship. I'm not good with the talking part."

"I know," I said. "And I'm not exactly mature when it comes to dating."

He shrugged. "You're like a kid, Luke." He paused. "I guess it's one thing I like about you. You work so hard at your game. I liked being the man who got to see the other Luke."

I laughed. "What? The horny Luke?"

He looked down at my crotch. I was soft now and my prick hung off the kitchen stool. "It's fun as hell. I just need to know where I fit in."

"I'm not a one-man guy, Dan," I said. "Sorry."

"I know," he said softly.

I didn't now how solid of ground I was walking on around Ogle. But I took a chance. "For what it's worth, I miss my Svengali."

His eyes were emotion. "Luke, buddy."

"For real. Did I say the wrong thing?"

He shook his head no, but didn't reply in words. We sipped our beers. Eyes locking some, but not knowing what to say. I worried I'd fucked things up again, then realized this was probably just ex sex. Fun and tantalizing but nothing more. At least it felt good to clear the air with Dan. We'd never had a true reckoning over how things ended.

I polished off my beer. "I guess I should go," I announced.

"Don't," Dan said. He set down his beer and walked over to my stool. He leaned and we kissed softly. The kiss earlier had been about fucking, this was something else. Soft tongue darting against one another. Our breaths fluttering on our lips before we pressed our mouths together again.

I was hard now. But we weren't rushing beyond just kissing as I stood up to hold him.

I did give a light slap to his ass and pulled back. "You've gotten fit as fuck, Ogle."

"Gotta keep up with the major leaguers," he replied with a sexy grin.

I reached up to run my hand along his neck. "I never wanted to hurt you, Dan," I said.

"I know," he replied. "And I never was going to tame you."

We made our way back to his bedroom. Dan wasn't good at talking relationship stuff, and I wasn't mature enough to be anything other than selfish. But for the next hour we made out and we fucked. Afterwards, we didn't need to say it. I had my Svenagli back.

DOUBLE PLAY

Things were different now. Better. Dan was back into professional mentor role. I honestly think he missed that more than anything, more than my dick, more than the sex and intimate time. Dan Ogle loved being the secret force behind Luke Fulton's career.

We were housemates once more, lovers and boyfriends. Ogle was even more a power bottom in bed now, though he sometimes joked about my out-of-control sex drive. I knew that was his way of letting me off the hook, of giving me free rein to sleep with other men.

I brought home a hunky lawyer I'd met at a community fundraiser. We used the guest room, and I thought it would be awkward, but Dan kept his distance and things were just as hot between us the following night.

I told him about what went down with Coach K pretty soon after he moved in, too.

Dan smiled, "You dog. You been pining for him for years, right?"

"Since, like, forever, yeah."

"You guys gonna do it again?"

I gave him a "come on" look. Dan was maybe too solicitous of me fooling around.

"What? You guys text like fuckin boyfriends. You should invite him out here."

"Don't offer if you don't mean it, Dan," I said. I was enjoying this new openness in our relationship, but wasn't sure how deep he was truly comfortable with.

"I'm on the level, Fulton."

***

I didn't think Kellerman would come. I offered to pay for his plane ticket, though. And I mentioned I was living with Ogle again. I thought that would maybe make Coach K feel it wasn't about the sex.

"Glad to hear, Luke," he said when we talked on the phone. "I was really worried about you, buddy."

"I worry about you, too, Coach."

He flew out and joined us for Christmas. I never was more in love with Dan than to see how he made Kellerman feel at home. They bonded as men of similar age, and with a similar love of baseball. Over the first couple of days, they enjoyed making jokes at my expense. It was fun.

The only thing that was hard is that I felt the pull of these two different men who were important to me. My two father figures. The idea weighed heavily on me that second night, and I was withdrawn and moody as Dan and I hung out in the living room. Kellerman had gone to bed early, his body still on East Coast time.

"You glad he came?" Dan asked me. I guess I was in a weird mood that night.

"Oh yeah," I replied. I scooted over and put my arm around Ogle's meaty shoulder. Craig Kellerman pushed my buttons in a lot of ways and had a hot older body. But Ogle's bod was something else. "It just feels weird."

Dan seemed to take that in. "If it makes you feel better," he added. "Kellerman gives you something I don't."

The man was perceptive, or else I was readable as an open book.

I ran my fingers along his shoulder.

Dan gave me a grin. Placing his mouth against my ear, he growled, "And I'm pretty fuckin sure I give you a ride he can't."

We kissed. Dan knew how to work my emotional doubts and turn them into lust.

"I'm pretty fuckin sure you can, Ogle." I ran my hand along his burly chest. "Besides, you got that catcher's ass."

He winked. "It's how I bagged a pro baseball star."

I got up and guided him back to the bedroom to fuck.

****

I made my move on Kellerman the next night. I wasn't suave or showing any game. Coach K wasn't some groupie, so I took the direct approach. When we were alone, I told him straight up that Dan and I had an open arrangement.

"Oh," he said, surprised and taken aback. "Is that why you invited me out here?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I invited you because I want you here, Coach," I said. "Anything else is a bonus. A guy's gotta shoot his shot," I added with a wink.

Kellerman laughed. "You know, this is how I always imagined you'd be with girls... you know, playing the hot shot."

"I AM the hot shot, Coach," I smirked.

The man gave me a faint smile and said softly, "I'll admit I've been thinking about what it would be like to have a repeat with you."

I took that opening and scooted over on the couch. In my head I knew I was replaying my romantic time with Ogle from the night before. There was something messed up about that. But my action made Craig smile bigger now, right before I leaned in to kiss him.

I didn't rush things at all, I just channeled my love and lust into that soulful kiss. Gently caressing Coach's meaty bod as we made out.

I was going to make a move for another Kellerman blow job. Tentative, inexperienced head that got me off. But I just leaned into my emotions then, and Coach's, too. So when I felt his hand paw my crotch and leaned back. I gave a smile that told him how much I liked that. Kellerman smiled, too.

"OK if we save the sex till tomorrow, Coach?" I asked.

He seemed surprised. "Not in the mood tonight?"

"I'm definitely in the mood... fuck... but I'd love to take you on a date first."

He paused and slowly withdrew his hand. "Ogle's OK with that?" Craig asked.

I nodded. "Definitely OK. You can ask him if you want."

"I trust you, Luke. But I don't want to mess up things with you two."

"You're not messing up a damn thing," I assured him. "Bring it in, Coach," I said softly. And like that we were making out again, softly and deeply.

"All right," I finally hissed when I pulled back. "Save some of this for tomorrow night?"

Craig had a dreamy look on his face that surprised me. "Sounds good," he said.

I got off the couch and adjusted the hardon in my sweats. Coach had to laugh at my predicament, but there was no hiding that boner. "Your first date with a man?" I asked.

"It will be. But I enjoy my Luke time. You know that."

I leaned in for one more kiss. Then bid Coach good night.

I found Dan in our bedroom, watching TV. He was barechested and looked just amazing. A better, fitter body than Coach Kellerman, even if both men fit my daddy type. Ogle kept his silvery chest fur trimmed at an even half inch, and his muscle was more gym-toned than ever.

"How'd it go?" he asked, apprehensively as I stepped in and shut the door.

"Really fucking well, Dan. Thanks for letting me do this."

He sat up in bed and nodded to my chubbed erection. "He leave you blue balled?"

I laughed. "I told him I'd save it till tomorrow. I want to take him on a date."

His eyes widened and he smiled. "That's probably his speed anyway."

I peeled off my zip-up workout top and folded it to put on the dresser. "He's never dated a man."

Dan was already removing his underwear beneath the bedsheets and tossing it to the side. "He's crazy about you, Luke. I can see it."

I shrugged. I peeled off my sweats and enjoyed the lust in Dan's eyes as he took in my long cock. "OK if we fuck slow tonight?"

Dan nodded. "We don't do that enough."

"No, we don't," I said. A lot of it was Ogle's preferences. Doggy and getting dicked from behind in general turned him on more and worked his prostate better.

OK, I was channeling some of the romantic vibe to Dan Ogle, but it felt right to both of us. Sensually making out naked in our bed, me getting on top of him, feeling his warmth and hard body beneath me. Then a slow, loving missionary fuck, where I took my time and worked Dan up into an intense orgasm.

"I love you, Dan," I said, when I finally dismounted him, running my fingers through that trimmed fur. "I know I have an unconventional way of showing it."

He nodded. Moody now, but his hand now reached out and touched my cheek. "Jesus, Luke, I love being your man. You know that, right?"

"Your my first, you know."

He seemed confused. "I thought you..."

"Not sex. The first man I fell in love with."

He smiled. "Lead man in your harem?" he asked in a teasing voice.

"Don't think Coach is signing on for that," I said. But yeah I had to admit the idea was horny and a turn on.

"We'll see," he smirked.

With that Ogle turned away from me. I thought he was going to reach up to turn off the light, but instead he backed into my naked body and pulled my arm around to snuggle. A-OK with me.

***

Date night with Coach K was weird but thrilling. He was also nervous but got into the groove halfway through dinner. Afterwards, I took him to some simulated golf place where we had drinks and shot the shit. Coach was a good golfer, better than me.

He started to open up about his ex and the bittersweet memories he had from his marriage. "Hell, I shouldn't be talking about this shit on a date," he said, almost mad at himself for a faux pas.

"No rules, Coach. Just us. Talk about what you want to talk about."

If Kellerman was nervous during the date he seemed to be ready for sex when we got back. We kissed and made out in his guest room, stripping down.

"You got an incredible body, Luke," he said. His hands were all over it as we rolled around. I wanted to fuck Kellerman in the worst way, but I knew he wasn't on board with that. So I kissed down his furry daddy body and took his meaty cock into my mouth. I'd give the first blow job, and it didn't take long. Coach loved getting head and wasn't used to guys doing it.

He eagerly reciprocated, with a game focus like he'd been mentally preparing to suck me off for a while. He brought me off surprisingly quickly. "Coach!" I muttered in excitement, feeling my orgasm trip. Then I blasted hard into his suctioning mouth and throat while the man moaned.

"Did I do OK, Luke?" he asked in sincerity when he came back up for a kiss.

"More than OK, Coach. That was incredible. Thank you."

We made out softly. "If you gotta get back, Luke," he spoke up quietly.

I was tempted to sleep the night with Kellerman, but I also valued Dan's understanding and didn't want to push too far. "Yeah," I said. "But please tell me it's not our last date night."

"No, it's not."

Dan was asleep when I slid into bed. I didn't wake him up, but I saw the happy look on his face the next morning when he realized I'd spent the night in our bed.

PITCHERS AND CATCHERS

Coach went back home, and I ramped up for Spring Training. Dan was coming with me this time. I first thought he was keeping tabs on me so I wouldn't hit on some groupie, but once we got there I realized he just loved being there for me. Professional mentor during the day, sex partner at night.

We were out for a late dinner that second night and Dan whispered in my ear. "How bout that daddy, Luke? Is he your speed."

"What are you up to, Ogle?" I whispered, amused and frustrated at not knowing how to navigate Dan's shifting vibes.

"Come on, Fulton. Just answer the question." He had an amused look on his face as well.

I looked over and appraised the guy he was talking about. A front office type, late 50s and handsome, silvery hair, early season tan.

I looked back at Dan. "Very good looking," I said. "I usually like a meatier ass."

"Noted," he said. He turned his body toward me, manspreading some. Ogle has great legs and they filled out his shorts very well. Between the guy talk and having my Svengali next to me, I was getting horny. "Who has the best ass you've ever had?" he asked.

"What the fuck, Dan?" I asked.

"Be honest," he said.

"You do," I replied. "Honest."

He smiled.

"Was that the right answer?" I teased.

He cocked his eyebrow. "If it's the honest answer."

"Honest answer. God's truth."

"What makes it the best?" he asked.

I wasn't sure what put Ogle in this mood for Twenty Questions, but I'd play along. I leaned in and growled into his ear.

"For starters, I'm a sucker for catcher ass. You know that." I placed my hand on his bare thigh. I was gonna have to pound Ogle hard that night if he kept working me up. For now, I teased his leg fur with my fingers. "And lately, fuck... you been hitting leg day, keeping that ass nice and fucking big."

"Yeah?" he smiled. Proud and a little turned on himself.

"Fuck, yeah, but damnit Ogle you also got a daddy's ass. Full in a way older men get. I can't keep my hands off you."

"I don't want you to, Luke," he said. Horny but with a sincerity to his voice as well.

I pulled back. Eyes on him with lust and a lot of love. Dan was my first serious man and the one who got me.

"What?" he asked, sensing something was on my mind.

"Now's not the time," I answered. "Maybe later."

"Come on, Luke, you can tell me what you're thinking."

I sighed. I knew I should save this for a more romantic occasion. But Ogle didn't do romance.

"I'm just wondering if you'd be the kind of guy to marry me."

That surprised him. He looked at me. "Is that a possibility?"

"Not publicly or legally," I said. "But in every other way, I'd be honored, Dan."

His hand now latched onto my bare thigh, his fingers matching the caress I had on his. I was full on boned now. "Where does Kellerman fit in this?" he asked. "Or the other guys?"

"You want me to give them up?" I asked. I was nervous Dan would say yes, but I'd try to be monogamous if I had to.

He seemed to read my thoughts. "The status quo is good, Luke. For real. And to answer your question, I'd love to be your husband."

We were both in a quiet, giddy mood when we made our way back to the hotel room. I thought we'd be romantic and slow in our sex but after we stripped and embraced, we got pretty worked up. Dan ended up on top and I thought he was going to ride me from the way he was humping.

"So..." he asked. "If we get married, Luke, you gonna eat my catcher ass more?"

"Oh fuck, Ogle. You know I will. Just tell me when you need it."

"I need it now, Luke." He kind of held my wrists playfully but then let go and scooted around to back his meaty ass up to my face. I leaned forward and nuzzled my face into his crack.

"Mmmmph," he moaned as he leaned forward and began sucking my cock. Ogle was really fucking good at it, but the angle made the sensation of his blowjob different. It felt great, but the quick-action suction was going to take longer to work me to completion. That was OK, it gave me time to root around his crack and his hole. I thought about what Dan said, of me having this amazing ass even more now.

Somehow that idea was the trigger that got me to cum down Dan's sucking throat. He'd barely swallowed my semen when he leaned up and started jerking while riding my face. It took a few tugs, and I almost felt smothered in the process. It was hot.

After we came we kind of rested. Dan rested his head on my chest and I lazily ran my fingers through his graying medium length hair.

"This is nice," Dan said. "I love Spring Training." Leave it to Ogle to deflect the emotion to baseball.

"I'm glad you came with me, Ogle," I said. "You're my rock, man."

"Me and Kellerman," he said. There was no jealousy in his tone, just honest reflection.

"You're the tough mentor, not like Coach," I said. "Sometimes I need tough guidance."

"You do," Dan said.

We enjoyed the afterglow for a long time. Quiet, just embracing. I grew hard again, then softened once more. I felt my heartbeat sync up with Dan's.

"Listen, Luke... if you were just getting carried away with the marriage talk, I wouldn't blame you."

"You saying no?" I asked. "Cause I meant it."

"I'm saying you can't keep your dick in your pants. So we both need to start from that knowledge whatever we do."

"Is that why you came out here this year? To make sure I didn't fuck another guy?"

This was the argument and discussion we should have had two years ago, but it was playing out again, in slow motion.

Dan shook his head. "Un unh. I just wanted to be here for you. For your playing. The sex is a bonus." He reached down and patted my thigh, right next to my genitals. Then he touched those, too, making me plump up again. "If you wanna go out and fuck a groupie, go ahead. Serious."

He shuffled and looked at me. "You want it both ways, Luke... you wanna be the player but get weird when I tell you it's OK."

"Guilty on all counts, Dan," I said. I gave him a smile but he was right I did feel weird. "You're seriously the best. But no I'm not chasing groupie tail on this trip."

I didn't either. Dan and I had sex every night of Spring Training, just us. We talked baseball before and after. There was no more emotional conversations those weeks, no more talk about our relationship. We just understood each other.

DESIGNATED HITTER

When we got back, I bought Dan a gold band and me a matching one. We wore it on our right hands to avoid talk, but from then on Dan Ogle was my husband in my mind. He'd just turned 53 and the age gap felt right to me.

We were both in baseball season mode starting that spring. Domestic life was great.

It was June before my team had its series against the Pirates. I reached out to Pittsburgh Pete to see if I could take him up on his offer to show me around the city. And unprompted him, I sent him four tickets to each of the games.

I told Dan about Pete, and in fact I called my husband when I checked into my hotel.

"You fuck that Pete guy yet?" he asked bluntly after we chatted a minute.

I laughed. "Haven't met him yet. We'll see what develops."

I could almost hear Dan's smirk on the other end of the phone. "He's sniffing around for more Luke Fulton... you're getting majorly lucky."

"I'm getting hard for now," I said. It was true.

"I should have sucked you off this morning," he said.

"I wouldn't have objected. But you're not at my beck and call, Ogle. Besides, you like to sleep in."

"I do," he said. "Well, I should let you go. Have fun, Luke."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Watch some porn, stroke off, get a work out in."

"You ever think of getting some action too?" I asked. I'd brought this up before and it seemed worth bringing it up again.

"If I have permission, that's hot, Luke. But for now, I'll just take the rest. You can wear a guy out."

"All right. Just so you know."

"I know, buddy."

"OK. Well, I'm gonna meet Pete soon. Love you, man."

I didn't use the L word with Dan enough. I was trying to use it more.

"Love you too, Luke."

I didn't have much time to kill after getting off the phone. Pete texted me. "I'm a little early."

"Wanna come on up?" I gave him my room number. Maybe that was too forward, but I got a thumbs up and in a minute heard the knock.

Pittsburgh Pete seemed nervous the first time I'd met him, but he had an eager smile as I let him in. Star struck.

"I hope you don't mind me coming a little sooner," he said, standing to face me. He was wearing a T-shirt for my team and khaki shorts. He looked like a million suburban dads who go to the games and like those men, he had a nice solid body that had seemed to get more toned since last time. "I was hoping maybe... you know, in case..."

"Yeah, you definitely read my mind," I said and stepped up to the man.

His lips and mouth tasted of breath mints and he smelled of cologne. I grew instantly hard feeling his muscled body press against mine and enjoying the sensation of our tongues battling.

I was the aggressor last time, the pro jock on the prowl. But now, Pete seemed to be taking the initiative, running his hands beneath my T-shirt and feeling me up as he drove the kiss.

In turn, I took my feel of that muscle daddy body. Pete looked guy next door but was crazy solid.

"Fuck," Pete hissed as he pulled back. It had been almost a year since I'd seen him, and there was a giddy energy between us. "I was hoping you'd be up for this again."

"Yeah?" I asked with a smile. "Lucky me."

"Dude... you're so fucking hot." His hand traveled down my abs and then latched onto my boner. "And FUCK! I almost forgot how big you were."

I was loving the new, horny Pete. "You gonna take care of that again, man?"

He looked up at me and nodded.

"I don't know if you like fucking as much as head, Luke..." he said. "But I'd be up for that."

I must have had a surprised look on my face because Pete laughed. The man definitely looked like a man in his late 40s but when he laughed he got some of his youth back.

I did some fake caveman gesture and growled as I reached around to grip his ass cheeks. I knew Pete had a great body, but I hadn't really assessed his ass, maybe because I assumed fucking was off the table. But I held onto those buns, massaging their hard brawn through his shorts. "FUCK!" Dan Ogle had the best ass in the world, I decided, but Pittsburgh Pete wasn't far behind. The guy was hotter for being real, a regular guy who just hit the gym often, maybe played pick-up ball with his buddies now and then.

My reaction made Pete smile bigger. "I take it that's a yes?" he laughed.

"Hell yes it's a yes," I replied. I leaned in and began kissing at his thick neck. "Dude, I should have made a play for this last time."

"I wasn't ready last time... but my buddy Jeff convinced me to let him do me... so I've had some practice."

I pulled back. There was a sweet naughtiness to this married dude's face. Handsome in an ordinary way, horny as fuck behind the clean-cut looks. "Remind me to thank Jeff."

He smirked. "You can if you like... he'll be coming with me to tomorrow's game." He now ran his hands up and down my lats, pulling me closer again. "Don't worry, I don't blab, man. But Jeff's a horny dude."

Yeah, my mind was already wondering to this married guy's butt buddy. But I also knew Pete was about as hot as I could hope.

We kissed some more, and stripped off our shirts. "Let me get some lube," I announced, going into the bathroom to find the travel sized container I had. I thought it was just going to be for jerking off, but now I was anticipating a nice snug fuck.

When I stepped back in, Pete was naked and reclining on the bed. He had a lot of muscle for a regular dude and was masculine as fuck.

"God you're a stud," he hissed looking up. I stepped out of my shorts and let my boner stand up for his inspection. I walked around the bed, hands on my hips. Pete leaned forward, taking the bait.

"Nice, man," I urged as he began to lick my cock and suck on me some. "Get me nice and wet..." I leaned my head back and shut my eyes and just enjoyed the sensation of some quality head. Pete Reilly had gotten even better at this over the last year. I let him work me for about a minute then looked back down and nudged him off.

"That's really fucking good, man..." I hissed.

"Yeah?" he asked, pleased he'd done well.

I leaned down to kiss him. Then, barely breaking our connection, I moved into the bed with him. His body felt warm and hard.

I took my time, and Pete seemed into the intimacy. He wasn't what I expected from a married dude. I told him as much.

"I'm a little crushed out on you," he said.

"I'm not trying to be a homewrecker," I said.

He nodded. "Not leaving my wife and kids or anything... but fuck this is nice..." His lips curled into a smile. "And fun as hell."

"Sure is," I said.

I began kissing down his body. With Ogle, I was getting more and more into rimming and now that Pete was pulling his strong legs back for me, I knew this married dad's hole was gonna be an obsession. Tight pucker, with lots of dark furry around it. I dove in and started licking, then munching.

I don't know how long I ate Pete Reilly out. Maybe not as long as I thought, but he was super into it, and his enthusiasm egged me on. Finally I pulled back and started lubing his hole.

"You're broken in?" I asked for confirmation as I plunged two slick fingers in and out. The man's hole was snug for sure.

He gave a soft, deep laugh. "I don't know about that, Luke. But my buddy fucks me about once a month. He's not as big as you."

"Your buddy is a lucky man."

He chuckled. "I do him, too. He's very sexual."

"Married, too?"

"Divorced," Pete replied.

I pulled my fingers out and slicked up my cock. I had a feeling Pete would need extra lube.

"I'm dating two divorced men," I said. It was a strange time to have a revelation, but saying it out loud made me realize how much my growing throuple situation was a turnon. Not just a way of managing my sex drive and hunter instinct, but something I found sexual and exciting in itself.

Now I was about to dick Pete Reilly. Not boyfriend potential, but a designated hitter so to speak. I scooted up and nudge my blunt cock head at his entrance.

"You're so fucking hot, man," I grunted.

I slipped in. Pete grunted and winced, but I held still. The man's insides were tight and hot, and I was about hyperventilating with how turned on I was. I loved fucking men, older men, but the first conquest of a dad hole was always special.

I worked him open slowly, but once I began fucking for real, I felt my cum rising from my nuts and had to slow my thrust.

"What's wrong?" Pete asked, looking up and reading my cautious expression.

"Don't want to cum yet," I explained, holding my hips dead steady. "Your ass is so incredible."

That made him smile. "You can go ahead," he said.

I shook my head. "I wanna enjoy this."

I got control of myself and began slow pumping him.

"Good god," Pete hissed.

"Feeling good?"

He nodded. "You're really fucking big."

"I know," I said.

I worked myself in and out steadily. Whatever I was doing was doing wonders for Pete Reilly's prostate. He couldn't help but grip his boner and with a few tugs he was spurting all over his hairy chest and abs.

I took the occasion to give a few harder thrusts and let my orgasm catch up. It was an amazing cum.

We uncoupled. Pete was surprisingly sensual and affectionate, even after nutting. We held each other, caressing our sweaty bodies with gentle motions of our fingers.

"That was incredible, Luke," he said. "I'm glad we did that."

"You make me glad to be a man," I said honestly. The sex endorphins were really pumping and I could let my hair down a little.

He nodded. "So... you're dating two men?"

I figured I could open up to him. "One's my husband, the other I'm working on."

"That's pretty damn unconventional," Pete laughed. He had a sexy laugh.

"Sure is," I replied proudly. "Dan knows I'm not a one-man kind of guy, but that doesn't mean I'm not crazy about him."

Pete thought that over and rolled onto his back, putting his arms behind his head. His biceps were big and round and framed by the tuft of dark pit hair. "I know what you mean. I love my wife, but I get something from my buddy Jeff..." he turned to face me again, "... and I guess you now.... that's just different."

We kissed some more.

I finally pulled back and took a good look at Pete's naked body. He was the perfect combo of "regular guy" and stud daddy. "I guess I waylaid your plans to show me the city," I winked.

He chuckled with his deep laugh. "You can waylay me anytime, man."

We decided to shower together, taking our time and kissing and feeling each other up. Boning up again. And then, yeah, I turned Pete around and fucked him a second time.

TRIPLE PLAY

Kellerman came to visit in July, when I had an extended home series. It was a two week trial, though no one put it that way, not Coach, not me, not Dan.

The first couple of days were fun as hell. Me and Coach having date night and getting to know each other in bed. Coach was strictly oral but he was getting used to my dick size and to the act of sucking me to completion. With him I returned the favor.

By day three it started to feel awkward. I was back in my room, Dan's and my room, that night, and the next morning there was a lot of tiptoeing around the situation. I felt sick to my stomach, because I wanted both men so bad, not only sexually but romantically. Ogle had given me a lane to try it, but it was harder in reality than in my head. Coach was still in his recently divorced mode. Craig may have enjoyed having sex with a guy, and I could tell there was a naughty thrill he had having sex with me specifically. But he didn't consider himself gay, not like Ogle did. And he seemed not to know where he fit in.

I got back from my workout the next day to find Dan and Coach in the living room, talking, laughing, but almost as if they were waiting for me.

"Hey Luke," Ogle said. "Coach and I have been talking."

I felt a sense of dread. "This isn't gonna work out is it?"

Kellerman had a look on his face that I recognized from my playing days with him. A "you can do this, Fulton" face. When I was about to go up at the bottom of the inning and see if I could work my Luke Fulton magic. Half the time I could.

"Dan and I were thinking it might break the ice if we all three..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. "Shit," I gasped. "For real?"

Dan nodded like a proud rookie. I was starting to see how much my husband had gotten into enabling mode, into making me happy. "Don't worry, buddy... I told him how wild you get me sometimes in bed."

"So... like now?" I asked.

Coach just nodded. Dan wisecracked. "For a self-professed player, you certainly get shy at the damnedest times, Luke."

That was all the invitation I needed. I pushed down my workout shorts and the exercise briefs I had beneath them. My big cock flopped out, plump and heavy. It rose with each step up to the couch.

Tentatively I stood in front of Coach, offering my meat to him. Kellerman looked up and winked then started licking the head.

That was hot, watching Coach slowly open up for me, and take me into his warm, wet mouth, as I looked over at Dan, who was scooting closer.

A lot closer. I gasped as Ogle leaned in and started tonguing the base of my prick, working down to my nuts. I was going to get my first tandem BJ, and the act thrilled me. I placed one hand on each man's head, cradling them in place as I let them share my dick, back and forth, alternating, licking up the sides, until they worked me to an intense cum.

I leaned down and kissed Dan, tongue heavy, then moved to kiss Coach the same way.

"Let's hit the bedroom," I hissed.

***

The rest of Coach's stay was fun as hell. The best of married sex with early dating. Coach slept in my and Dan's king bed, all three of us having sex together then falling asleep together.

Craig was definitely surprised to see Dan's power bottom mode, but he watched in horniness as I dicked Ogle for a marathon session, pausing to pull out and make out with Coach.

The finale was incredible as Dan embraced Coach as I dicked him from behind. I pounded Ogle while Coach encouraged us both and caressed Dan's cheek between kisses.

The last day of Coach's visit, he was moody and quiet, and I worried Dan and I had pushed him too far. I had a game that afternoon so couldn't really check in with him, but he seemed in a better mood afterwards when I got home.

"You were incredible tonight, Luke," he said. I'd had one homerun and one RBI.

Dan was sitting next to him, relaxing with a beer and smiling. "You horny, stud?" he asked.

I laughed and went to sit down next to them. "Always," I said. "But I wanna enjoy this moment first... my two favorite men."

Coach blushed a little and sighed. "I wish I didn't have to go back."

"You're welcome to come stay anytime Coach," I said. "Even on a permanent basis if that feels right."

"Dan was telling me you've been dreaming of that," Craig replied and then he reached forward and placed his hand on my neck to pull me into a kiss. I went with it, soft tongue and all, while Dan watched on.

I then pulled away to kiss my husband. I was so grateful he was open to bringing Kellerman into our dynamic.

"I think you and Kellerman should have some one on one time tonight."

I nodded. "Yeah. But we're all sleeping in the same bed, OK?" I turned to Coach. "If that's Ok with you, Coach."

He grinned. "Yeah, it's OK."

The guest room had barely been used, but Coach and I were making good use of it now. I was keyed up from the game and knew I wanted to enjoy this last night with Coach before he got on a plane back to my hometown.

"You're coming back, right, Coach?" I asked softly as we embraced, naked on the bed. I realized he'd never answered the question, maybe because he still had a lot to think over.

"Christmas break," he replied. "Jesus, Luke, you make me feel young again."

I grinned and felt up Coach's meaty build. I'd jerked off so much to the idea of him over the years. Now I had him beneath me. "You and Dan make complete, Coach."

He gave me a serious look. "Ogle says you're a player when it comes to men."

"Sexually, yeah," I said. "I'm not gonna lie about that, Coach. But emotionally, you and Dan are my father figures, you know that."

"Yeah," he said. He looked up at me. I'd learn that Coach had a different relationship to gay lust than I did. It was emotional first, then sexual. But I had a special place in his heart. "Luke, buddy... would you fuck me tonight?"

My heart stopped. I think all the blood drained from my head to my dick, cause my prick throbbed into full erection.

"Coach..." I muttered. Emotional and horny at the same time.

"I wanna give that to you." Craig seemed so vulnerable and that made my heart melt.

"If you offer, Coach, I'm not gonna have the willpower to say no. You're cherry, right?"

He nodded.

I didn't belabor the conversation, mostly because I didn't want Kellerman changing his mind. I had some lube in the draw from when I'd had a trick come over. Maybe my trick days were behind me. My deeper connections with men seemed to draw me in... Dan, Craig, and Pete... the sex was somehow hotter, even if my conquest need never fully went away.

I rimmed Coach now, softly and slowly, then I fingered lube around and into his hole while we kissed. He was relaxing, getting into it.

"I love you, Coach," I said plainly, as I got him ready.

"I love you, too, Luke. You're such a special young man."

"That young man is going to fuck you, Coach."

"I'm ready. For real."

It was a brave face he put on but Coach was nervous. I did my best to be gentle, and by the time I was buried inside him, he was starting to enjoy it, stroking his own dick while I pumped him slowly.

The idea of taking his cherry had me cumming quick. When I did Coach's eyes went wide with excitement. It turns out he loved the idea of being bred by me, even more then the idea of taking my cock. He jerked fast, and I felt his insides clench down on my still dribbling cock as he came buckets.

His face was flush and he was hyperventilating, even after I withdrew.

"Damn, Fulton... you never told me it was so intense."

I laughed. "You could have asked Dan," I said. "But I'm glad you liked it."

He nodded. "I'm definitely coming here over winter break. Maybe Thanksgiving too if I can afford the extra plane ticket."

"I'm paying for that Coach... really, I want you here all the time."

We talked and made out. Then I reminded Coach I wanted us all to sleep back in the master bedroom.

Dan looked up from his book when we joined him.

"Have fun?" he asked. I had a feeling he'd jerked off. I'd have to make this up to him.

"Oh yeah," I said, letting Dan see my naked body, and Coach's beefier one coming in behind me.

"This young man just took my virginity," Craig announced proudly.

That surprised Ogle. "Nice," he said.

I grinned and slid into the bed. "Thank you, Dan," I said. I scooted to embrace and kiss him. "I love you."

Coach slid in on my other side.

Yeah, this was going to work out.

GETTING COACHED

Coach Kellerman moved in. He was still teaching and coaching, but in July and August and over every shorter break he was staying with me and Dan and sleeping in our king bed every night that I was home. He accompanied me on a few of the away trips, too.

Kellerman was the opposite of Ogle, a very emotional heart-on-his-sleeve kind of guy, though lacking confidence in the bedroom. Some of it was still some anxiety about gay sex or being in a gay relationship with me and by extension Dan.

But by the end of the summer he was getting in the groove of that too. Often our sex was one-on-one, but we enjoyed threesomes regularly, and it was hot to see Craig and Dan suck each other or otherwise fool around. And Coach got into encouraging me when I went to town on Ogle's powerbottom ass.

Coach got used to bottoming. I loved learning what positions worked for him. He was more of a missionary guy, since it was his love for me that helped him enjoy the sexual act.

Ogle gave me professional guidance, but Coach was my emotional support. That didn't take away from the love I felt for Dan, it was just different. Still, I had to notice Dan opening up some once Kellerman was involved. He used to pretend his first marriage and divorce hadn't been a big deal, but in one-on-one time with Ogle he talked about how messed up he felt. I listened.

"You and I should have a vacation, Dan," I said as we embraced in the afterglow of our afternoon sex. "Just the two of us."

He nodded, "I'd like that." Then he wisecracked in his normal ex-player gruff tone. "Is that just cause you want to fuck me for three days straight?"

"Let's make it five," I replied. "And I don't take you out of town to do that." I was getting hard again, against his naked ex-catcher body.

"You have a crazy sex drive, Fulton."

"Enough for two men?" I asked. Things seemed to be going well with having two men in my life, but I needed to keep checking in.

"Enough for five," Ogle replied instantly. "Maybe more, though let's talk about it if you start getting greedy."

"I am greedy, Dan," I hissed, reaching back to cup his meaty ass in my hands.

That made Dan smile. "You love my ass, don't you?"

"You're just figuring that out?"

He got quiet. "I never told you this, Luke, but... before you I was kind of weird about bottoming."

I stopped massaging his hard buns and I knew my whole body grew still. "Yeah? What do you mean?"

[dad-characters]

This is Mr Petersen. He’s your favorite resident at the nursing home where you volunteer. Known for cracking dirty jokes and flirting with the staff, he’s a charming and naughty old man that you can’t help but love. He’s got a warm presence about him and you always look forward to seeing him. Mr Petersen gets to show his softer side one evening when your good for nothing partner breaks up with you with a text. You sit on the edge of his bed with him, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. You can’t help but notice how sturdy he feels despite his age, and his warmth makes you want to sink further into him. Your head falls on his shoulder and you wish you could stay there forever.

A few months later, it seems like you just might. Snow is pouring down outside, and the weatherman says it’s not likely to let up anytime soon. Your supervisor says that it’s probably best if staff spend the night, the roads are much too dangerous to risk. There are cots placed in the main hall, but naughty old Mr Petersen has a better idea.

His weathered old hand takes yours and he guides you to his room. “No one will notice.” He says, but you’ve got a feeling that he wouldn’t care if they did. You don’t care either. You just want to feel his warmth against you again.

In all honesty, Mr Petersen doesn’t bring you to his room with the intention of fucking you. He just wants to make sure that you’re warm and well taken care of. He wants to hold you and keep you safe.

But with no pajamas of your own, you slip your pants off and settle for sleeping in your underwear and a t shirt. Mr Petersen tries to ignore it at first. Despite his love for naughty jokes, he is a gentleman. But your ass is pressed against his crotch and he can’t help but let nature take hold. His geriatric cock stirs to life, and before you know it he’s grinding his erection against you. You push back against it. It reminds you of all the naughty jokes he’s made, all the times he’s bragged about being a stud who’s still got it. He wasn’t lying.

Mr Petersen’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and his hand slips beneath your shirt. You feel the years stacked onto his weathered skin, but it feels pleasant. It makes you want more. He kisses your shoulder, then your neck. He wants more as well, but he doesn’t want to go too far too soon.

“Do you want me?” He asks. “Yes.” You reply. “Do you want me to fuck you?” Again, he asks. “Yes.” Again, you reply.

He continues to kiss your neck, his white, well groomed beard scratching against your skin. You want more, and you find your hand reaching back to cup the back of his head and keep him in place. He chuckles, teasingly calling you needy before indulging you.

Mr Peterson tugs your shirt to the side and kisses from your shoulder to your ear, making sure to grind his beard into your skin as he does so. His kisses are sloppy and hungry, and you can feel his tongue darting out to taste you. It makes you moan and he definitely noticed. His hand reaches up your shirt and finds a nipple. He traces his thumb around it and rolls his hips against you. His cock feels so hard and you imagine he must be aching. You wonder if he’s waiting for you to initiate, or if he’s having too much fun getting you turned on and worked up. Either way, you want to feel him.

You withdraw your hand from his handsomely white hair and readjust your shoulder, folding your arm behind your back so that you can grope him. His hips buck in response, and you swear you hear him growl.

“You want my cock, sweetheart?” Mr Petersen asks, but his tone is devoid of teasing. It’s sincere, but with a hint of something else. He’s enjoying talking to you like this, and you’re loving it, too. “Please, give it to me.”

You give the old man’s cock another squeeze. It feels thick. Probably average in length, but definitely thick. You fumble around a bit, almost desperately, until your hand slips into the waistband of his flannel bottoms. He’s not wearing underwear and you immediately note the feeling of bristly hair against your skin. Good, you think. You’ve always preferred your men hairy. You’ve never felt an uncircumcised cock until now, though. It catches you by surprise, the way his foreskin completely covers the head of his cock, but you can’t say that you mind. You’d love to explore it, to suck it and stroke it and savor it, but that’s something to enjoy later. Right now all you want is Mr Petersen’s cock inside you. You pull his waistband down, freeing his cock and heavy, sagging balls.

“God, you really want it, don’t you?” He says, but he doesn’t leave space for you to reply. “You must have a thing for dirty old men. I bet you do. Or am I the first?” “You are.” You interject. It makes him laugh. “Well aren’t I a lucky old man then?”

His thumb hooks into the elastic of your underwear and he slowly tugs them down. His cock pressed against your bare skin and you can feel it throb, feel how hot it is. You roll your hips against it for a moment, but then you’re bringing your leg upwards so he can have you.

He notices, and he’s going to give you what he wants, but he’s going to keep talking, because he can tell you want that, too. You hear him spit into his hand, feel him reach down to lubricate his cock, and as his tip presses against your entrance, he starts talking again.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Just relax and let this old cock fill you up, huh?” And it certainly does feel filling. It’s so thick, it takes you a moment to adjust. He stays still. He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he keeps talking. “God, you’re tight. You been saving yourself for me?” “Yes.” You respond. It’s not the truth, but not exactly a lie, either. “How sweet.” Mr Petersen says, and you feel his cock begin to pump into you.

His hand, still wet from his own saliva, rests against your hip. He’s holding you in place, keeping you steady as his hips meet yours. You moan for him. You can tell he likes it, likes hearing your voice almost as much as you like hearing his. “Keep talking. Please.” You practically whine. You don’t know why, but the way he’s speaking is so hot to you. It reminds you of how much of a dirty old man he is and fuck, maybe you do have a thing for them. Your hand trails downwards and begins to provide yet more pleasure. You might cum before he does at this rate.

You hear Mr Petersen chuckle breathlessly before asking “You want it dirty? Seems like you like it.” “I do.” You say, and he again laughs. His belly shakes and slaps against your skin as he does so. It’s almost enough to make you moan.

“I thought so. You like a man talking nasty, don’t you? A real man, one that can still fuck even when the hair on his sack is white.” His thrusting grows faster. You push back against him. He knows what he’s doing and you want more of it, more of that old cock inside you. “Bet this is the oldest dick you’ve ever felt, isn’t it? Of course it is. You’ve never been fucked by a grandpa before, have you? Never felt a geriatric cock before now. And you love it, don’t you?”

You do. You’re in love with it. You can’t get enough of him, of his elderly cock, and his filthy tongue. His hand squeezes your hip just as your own brings you over the edge. You moan, whimper, and whine, but it only lasts a moment. Before you can rattle the halls with your wails of pleasure, you feel Mr Petersen’s hand cover your mouth.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you can’t go screaming in here.” He laughs, his hips still. He doesn’t want to torture you through your orgasm. Instead, he just holds his body against yours, his cock still buried inside you and his hand still over your mouth. It feels nice. Rough and warm, dominant but gentle. Your eyes fall shut. After a moment, your body relaxes and Mr Petersen continues. He goes to remove his hand, but the one that made you cum rises to stop him. You want him to keep holding you with his hand over your mouth. You for sure hear him growl.

“You need a gag or something, baby? Gotta have me stop you from screaming my name? I bet you would. Tell the whole damn home that Mr Petersen’s wrinkly old cock made you cum. You gonna tell them you made me cum, too? Cause you’re going to. I’m right on the edge, sweetheart.” Which isn’t the entire truth, but it feels right to say. It takes the old man another minute or so of steadily thrusting his prick in and out of you before he’s actually on the edge and when he is, you know for sure. His breathing is rough and ragged, his age catching up with him. Still, he’s trying to talk, to give you every bit of his filthy mouth that he can. “Almost there, sweetheart. Almost there. I’m gonna fill you up good. These old balls are so fucking full. Gonna fill you up with so much spunk. You want it, don’t you? You want this old man’s cum inside you?” His hand still over your mouth, all you can do is nod. It’s not sufficient to express just how much you want it, but it’s enough to let him know that you do. With a loud grunt, Mr Petersen cums inside you. Just as he’d said, it’s an absolutely massive load. You feel his cock twitch and throb as he shoots for several seconds, his spunk filling you up in a way you’re never felt before. You wonder if you can take it all, or if it overflow and spill out. Just like he’d said, you needed a real man to fuck you. A real, elderly man with a geriatric cock and saggy, full balls. Just the thought is enough to make you cum again and you certainly would have, if you were still touching yourself. After a moment, Mr Petersen pulls out and rolls over onto his back to catch his breath. You feel a bit of cum dribble out of you with his retraction. You’re ashamed of how much you wish it hadn’t. Slowly, carefully, you roll over to lay your head on his chest. Your hand rests on his belly. His arm wraps around your shoulders.

“Well,” He asks. “How was it? I uh, hope it wasn’t disappointing.” He’s a little nervous, a little shy. Perhaps he got carried away and feels ashamed, perhaps it’s just who he is. Either way, you’re the one to chuckle now. “Are you really asking? You showed me what a real man you are, I thought it was obvious.” You crane your neck to kiss his jaw, but barely a moment passes before you’re turning his head to kiss you properly. His mustache tickles your lips, but you want more. You kiss him hungrily, making sure he knows just how much you enjoyed it, and how much you want more. When you finally break from him, he’s left with a smile on his handsomely wrinkled face.

“I’m glad you had a good time.” He says. “Now, how about a sponge bath? You got me all sweaty, sweetheart.”

[homoeroticwords]

I’m a twenty year old college student with a boyfriend. So why was I wondering if the married man old enough to be my grandfather would let me touch it?

[midtownkevin]

I have built an entire Husband Fantasy around this picture. A good-hearted country man without even a hint of racism or sexism in him. Drives a truck because he needs it for the farm work not because he thinks it makes him more masculine. His fit body is from work, not the gym. He is naturally dominant and will take charge of any situation, not just sexual ones. It's not a game he plays, it's just who he is. But he is polite and kind to everyone especially his parents and grandparents. He is a simple man, in the very best way possible. And even though we couldn't be more different, he loves me unconditionally.

[realgayincestfantasies]

[maturedadsandmen]

“So, Coach… If I understand you correctly, you’re saying my Tommy’s in danger of getting kicked off of the Varsity squad because he’s flunking Physics?”

“That’s right, Mr. Phillips.”

“Call me Tim,” the investment banker said as he reached across to pat the hunky basketball coach on the knee.“

”Okay…Tim,“ John Stansell grinned at the almost desperate father.

"You sure there’s nothing I can do to make sure my boy stays on the team so he can get scouted by a good school?”

Coach Stansell’s grin widened to a full on smile. He loved fathers like Tim Phillips. Willing to do anything to make sure their kid gets ahead. And best of all, completely ignorant of the fact that the boy staying on the team wasn’t the Coach’s decision. It was up to the Physics teacher, Milo Nordling.

But, Coach was never one to turn down a free blow job…especially from a a guy with a mouth as talented as Tom Phillips’ father. As he stood there with his shorts around his ankles, thrusting into the investment banker’s mouth, he was already trying to come up with a believable reason that would require the man to come back for another round.

[pornoisart-deactivated20131124]

[w-o-o-f-e-r-s]

Follow w-o-o-f-e-r-s 😜😜😜

[malesuite]

Naked, he was rapacious at first, then settling into caresses on my cock. His tongue tasted my slit. His facial hair prickled me. There was something reassuring and confirming about the knowledge that I had a man between my legs. He paused, his face halted under my shaft. I heard him breathing in and out taking in my odors. I could see him watch with those hazel eyes through his brows. Then finally he brought his lips to bare on my sack and his chin nudge from below as if he was testing how much he could bring to bear on me.

[yeahstr82gayredux-deactivated20]

Ron leaned back and let whoever this mouth was work his magic. Every Friday at 6PM he was there, and Ron wasn't too proud to show up. Of course he loved his wife. He just needed a little extra.

Mmmm . . . the fucker was good. Probably some gay guy from the west side, getting off on the idea he's serving a blue collar stud from the south side. Not that Ron still lived on the south side--his wife had insisted on moving to one of the northern suburbs, so that now Ron had to put up with yuppies like Ryan Anderson next door. Fuck, that guy was a nerd, with his nerd wife and brainy kids. Mmmm....forget that shithead. Right now. Ron only cared about this mouth.

Ron grinned. He should talk a little. After all this guy had been serving him for two months now. He should talk and give the guy a little thrill, let him know what a stud he's latched onto. Ron had always been complimented on his deep, gruff voice. He cleared his throat.

"Hey, man. You're great. I'm Ron."

The mouth froze.

"Hey, don't stop. Just, you been doing me for 9 weeks now. Thought I should chat you up a little. Heh!"

On the other side, Ryan Anderson sat stock still, eyes wide, staring down almost cross-eyed at the shaft resting in his mouth.

SHIT!

"Buddy? Keep going. Sorry if talking bothered you. I won't talk again for sure, heh! Love how--how you swallow me down, buddy. Heh!"

Ryan slowly started up again. It was Ron. Ron Ford, the asshole construction worker from next door.

FUCK!

[mygayshortstories]

This sort of 'encounter' could get you into serious trouble these days but this was back in the days of youth and innocence.....

Craig - Changing Trains (part 1)

(a journey to work on a crowded London Tube train…..)

He always changed trains at my Tube station, this young man. He reminded me of a smart young guy I used to pass every morning on my walk to work in the city where I grew up and had my first job. In those days, I used to give fictitious names to the strangers I passed in the street regularly and I would even create a domestic background for them from my imagination. But the quiet and innocent simplicity of those days had now been superseded by the crowded and hectic life of commuting to work in London.

This particular chap was about 19 years of age and was called Craig; at least that’s what I called him. He was about my height; slim, clean-shaven and lightly built. He usually wore the same grey tweed jacket and plain grey trousers; the latter fitting beautifully around his crotch, so that there was always a nice packet showing. He had light brown hair, slightly tousled; he always looked like he had just got out of bed. He probably had. His complexion was clear and smooth, slightly pale. And he had grey eyes. Whether or not he chose his grey outfit consciously I never knew but, in any case, he had an instinctive awareness of what suited him. He looked delicious, actually.

We are all creatures of habit, aren’t we? He nearly always came in on the same train and came across the platform from the other line in exactly the same place on the platform, to wait for the train on the main line; the one I got on. On the train, he always stood in the corner by the doors, with his back against the partition. I always tried to stand opposite him, so that I could look at him, imagining his body, undressed and in his underpants – or sometimes naked altogether.

Having looked at him a number of times, I had examined every inch of his clean-shaven face and well-packed crotch and I could see that he dressed to his right. Very occasionally, I had spotted what I was sure was the bulge of an erection, slightly across to his right, indicating that he wore briefs rather than boxer-shorts under those tight grey trousers. The briefs were white, of course and the erections fairly frequent; after all, he was only 19 and not long out of bed. I used to wonder what he might be thinking about.

This morning was different, however; he came in on his usual train alright, and stood in exactly the same place, but today he carried a grey coat over his arm. The weather was overcast and threatening rain, so he was prepared. So was I. When the train came in, I got on next to him.

Today the coat was in the way of the view, as he held it over his right arm in front of him. Nevertheless, I knew what was there – or had a pretty good idea. And fate was about to offer me the opportunity of a lifetime.

The train seemed to be making very slow progress between stations; there was some trouble up ahead, it seemed. When we came into the next interchange station, there were masses of people on the platform and it was clear that an earlier train had been taken out of service and had deposited its passenger-contents on the platform to get the next one. The result of this was that when the doors opened, the crowds surged forward onto our train, desperate to get a seat, or at least a space.

I moved quickly. In the confusion of the crowd, I moved across in front of him and positioned myself with my left hand on the partition behind him and my umbrella in my right hand. I pretended to attempt to keep some space between us but, of course, because of the surging crowds, this was difficult. Even as the train stood there with the doors open and solid with people, more were desperately trying to squeeze on and eventually, I was pressed quite firmly against him, he with his back against the partition, still in his corner. He was still holding his coat over his right arm, in front of him and just above waist height.

Eventually, the doors closed and the train moved off. As the carriage swayed, I slid the back of my umbrella-hand behind his coat and against his crotch. Against the back of my hand, I could feel the slightly rounded shape of his packet, bunched in the front of his white underpants. I pressed a bit, then released and slid my knuckles backwards and forwards across his packet, while I looked over his shoulder. I didn’t look directly at him, for fear that this would be too obvious and he might push me away; instead, I hoped that the movement against him might be thought to be merely accidental. Then, if he was offended by my touching him, I could just apologise and stop what I was doing.

At the moment, he seemed unaware that what I was doing was deliberate. So I carried on; a bit more pressing, and sliding, back and forth across his package. It had the desired effect. Even against the back of my hand, I could feel that his package was getting much firmer and was now bulging into his already snuggly fitting trousers. Still holding my umbrella, I extended my index finger in the direction of his right thigh and, true enough, there was a bulging ridge.

Meanwhile, the train was not making much progress. It was moving in fits and starts and we were now stationary in the tunnel. It was rather warm and people were getting restless and were shifting from one foot to another. I took the opportunity to appear to do the same but, in fact, in the crowd, what I was doing was moving my umbrella to hang over the inside armpit of my jacket. My right hand was now free to return to where it was and he was now, surely, aware that I was deliberately arousing him. Whether or not he was gay was immaterial; any sexually-aware 19 year-old would enjoy the selfish indulgence of an erection, however caused, just as long as it wasn’t obviously associated with the person causing it. So my hand went back to its treasure-mound and was not rejected.

Once the train moved, so did I. I twisted my hand around, covered by his coat, and found the zip at the top of his flies. I opened it out and gently slid it down as far as it would go and waited to see if he reacted. He just continued staring over my shoulder, pretending to ignore me. So I slid my hand inside; it was a bit tricky because his trousers were quite snug and I needed to get around to his right side. At last I did it and amidst the folds of his shirt, my fingers traced their way through to his underpants. I felt soft cotton and the seams that revealed that he was wearing Y-fronts, or something like them, and they were now bulging excessively under his tightly-constrained erection. He was quite a big lad, it seems. I grasped the bulge and began gently massaging and squeezing it. As I did so, his erection throbbed fully into life and began stretching his briefs really tight, his organ pointing slightly downwards and across his thigh. As he expanded, I coaxed his tool around in his pants so as to point diagonally upwards into the ‘expansion room’ of his Y-fronts.

The thing is, him being such a well-developed young man, his organ quickly filled the ‘expansion room’ right up to his waist-band and the result of my maneuver was that his organ was now just inside the top of his underpants above his right thigh. He was still standing looking over my shoulder but I was so close to him, I could see the pores of his features and the side of his face and ears, beautifully soft and inviting. I could have kissed him then and there.

I now slipped my hand over the waist-band of his Y-fronts and grasped his tool. Against my lower fingers, I could feel his pubic hair, quite short but also quite dense and tightly curled, reflecting his tousled hair. Taking advantage of the motion of the train to disguise any sudden movement, I began gently sliding the foreskin of his tool up and down over the engorged head now protruding from his underpants inside his trousers. His organ was solid and rock-hard. He was only 19 and clearly enjoying the secretiveness of this selfish pleasure but he surely must have known what was going to happen.

Suddenly, I felt him breathe in sharply against me and I saw the skin around his white shirt collar flush. Pink blotches began appearing over his pale, clear cheeks. And then I felt his organ pulsing in rhythmic release, as his man-fluid shot out into my fingers, over his tummy, over the waist-band of his knickers and into the folds of his shirt inside his trousers. Five or six times I felt his tool pulse until it began to subside, still throbbing slightly. Meanwhile, his ears were glowing and his eye-brows were furrowed, his flushed lips parted and I could feel him suppressing the need to gasp, as he breathed in and out sharply, in short panting breaths. Crushed in that overcrowded train carriage, the other passengers around us just carried on reading their books and newspapers, or stared vacantly into the crowd, blissfully unaware of the act of intimacy occurring right there, under their noses.

His organ was still erect; now slippery and sensitive, still in my grasp. As my finger worked over and around his cock-head, I felt his groin pull away from me involuntarily, and he used his right hand (which was still carrying his coat over his arm in front of him) to gently push my hand out of his flies. I moved a little away from him but the crowd in the carriage made it difficult to move much. I looked directly into his grey eyes and saw his pupils, massively dilated. He glanced at me and, as he did, I raised my eye-brows and gave him a little smile. He just looked at me for a second – just enough to acknowledge me – and then blinked and looked away. What was he thinking at that moment?

Craig got off the train at the next stop and hurried away into the morning rush-hour. I continued my journey to work, thinking about all that cum in his underpants and soaking into his shirt. His first task of the day was going to be a trip to the Gents to clean himself up as best he could, but all the rest of the morning, he would be reminded of his adventure en-route to work by that uncomfortably cold, damp feeling in his groin that none of his friends or work-colleagues could have any inkling about, as they innocently chatted to him………

If you liked that story, please let me know - even post a comment under “ask me a question”. Or perhaps you’d just like to read another story?

Here’s an index of my other sordid tales, many of them taken from true-life sexual adventures of my own: Erotic Gay Stories Index

[billthedrake]

(A wilder, horny one for today...)

PRO TOUR

He didn't need the money. Hell, he'd just won the big prize after a hard fought PGA event. This on top of the other money and endorsements that had been coming in.

But the fifty dollar bills laid down on the hotel bedside table was a turn on for Brandon Kelly. It was part of his kink.

As was the haughty chuckle by the next man in line. Number five. Deep Southern voice. "Damn, son, aren't you a sight?" the middle aged man laughed, unbuckling his belt. The words were loose, not quite slurred, but the country club daddy had been drinking the afternoon for sure.

Sometimes Brandon didn't even look to see who was gonna fuck him. But that voice was turning him on. He looked back to see a medium-height man, full dad bod build but solid ex-jock frame. Sunburned face, raccoon eyes from wearing sunglasses. Sweaty salt and pepper hair barely visible beneath the club ball cap he had on.

Brandon almost gasped as those shorts dropped. Southern Daddy wasn't the hottest guy who'd fuck him today, but he was definitely packing a majorly fat boner. Beer can territory.

"You know the price," was all the golfer said, though.

That got another lewd chuckle, as the man reached down to fish out his wallet. "All right, buddy. I thought I might get a freebie off ya, but fifty bucks is a bargain." He got a few bills, three twenties to give a little something extra to the early-30s pro stud. The man sauntered over and laid the cash on top of the growing pile, slowly to give Brandon a chance for a nice up close view of that daddy boner.

"Fucking PGA whore," came his growl as he got up on the bed.

Brandon wasn't sure if that was a question or a comment, but he said, "Yessir." He had on only his sponsorship-logo golf polo, a really expensive watch, and nothing else. The golfer lay face down on the mattress, the sheets a little damp from sweat and lube and the overflow cum. Brandon worked hard on his legs and his ass and he felt rough hands rub and grip the muscle appreciatively.

But Southern Daddy wasn't into foreplay. He gave a hard smack to the butt cheek then crawled right on top of Brandon's splayed body. Somehow, the middle aged guy felt firmer, more solid with that weight pressed on top of him.

Brandon acted a little slutty, maybe, hiking his ass back and doing the work to line that beer can up. The excess lube and cum did the rest, making that fatness pop right in.

"FUCK!" Brandon cried. But a hand clapped over his mouth.

"Quiet, you fucker!" the top breathed. Brandon could definitely smell the beer on his breath. Rather than be a turn off, it reminded him of losing is virginity at the country club back home.

That thick wedge was pressing in steadily now. The thing about beer can cocks is they feel even thicker going in on entry.

The daddy was excited as hell. "Jesus, son, you're still tight as fuck... after all evening, too." He grunted even deeper once he bottomed in. "Fucking slopping hole."

That hand stayed on Brandon's mouth but with less force. Instead, it was like the older man was using it for leverage as he threw his whole body into boning that golfer ass. Deep steady stroke, battering open the last of Brandon's natural tightness. It felt good, great even, until Southern Daddy started going harder.

"Shut up, slut... I paid good money for this," he growled.

Sixty bucks, Brandon laughed to himself. But that sum itself was part of the turn on. How much it undervalued his sexual worth. How it made the fuck so strictly transacitonal.

It was that idea that changed the discomfort back to pleasure and made the golfer's cock hard again against the sheets.

"God fucking damn, buddy..." came the daddy's hisses, so close to orgasm. Then that ex-jock body fucked Brandon with a few last hard thrusts and seized tight, a deep groan signalling that the pro golfer was getting seeded again.

Now, as the daddy collapsed onto Brandon's prostrate body, that weight felt really fucking heavy now. But after a second, the man climbed back off.

No talking now, he just grabbed the towel that was set by the bed. Wiping off he picked up his shorts again, put them on, rebuckled his belt and was out the door without a word.

Brandon felt more alive than ever. He hadn't expected this guy to push his buttons so much, but this fuck had hit him so deeply. But as he rolled back on his back, feeling the very slick cum deposit fresh in his hole, he reached down the gingerly touched his rock hard erection. He wondered if his brother had lined up anyone else.

Just then the key card sound came, then the door opened. This was Brandon's favorite part of anticipation, the couple seconds before he saw the next top, or before the next top saw what was in store for him.

This time it was Chase. Not changed from a day on the course, still looking hot as fuck. Huge smile on his face and a hard on in those golf shorts. "Hey bro.... couple of guys are still waiting but I couldn't hold off any more."

"I'm glad," Brandon said. "Though that last guy was incredible."

Chase smirked then walked over to the wad of cash. Picking up the bills, he counted the money, then stuffed it in his pocket. "God, if Dad could see you now," he said.

Brandon blushed. "Come on, Chase."

"Come on, what?" Even when giving the biggest put downs Brandon's little brother was cute as fuck. "I'm not the fucking whore in the family." Then in a more horny tone... "How sloppy are you, bro?"

Brandon leaned back, a smirk of his own forming. "Pretty damn wet."

Now it was Chase whose face got that horny serious look. "Gonna feed me, bro?"

Brandon nodded and scooted down in the bed, lifting his legs apart. Chase kicked off his sneakers and got up on the bed, right into his favorite place.

The two had learned what rhythm worked best. That brother tongue slowly lapping and soothing that fucked hole, getting used to the lube there, before venturing deeper. Some long probe, then shallow licks seemed to get the cum flowing.

This felt nasty the first time Chase felched him. It still did, but it was a ritual neither could get enough of. Particularly the younger golfer, who munched and feasted harder the more he got fed. Soon he was eating out practically clean pro-jock hole.

That wouldn't last long. Face reddened and spit wet, Chase pulled back and unzipped.

"Not gonna need lube," he announced. Indeed as he lined up that long, thick prick Brandon's hole seemed to accommodate without issue. Maybe it was his brother's eyes on his. Hungry, lusty.

"Good win today, bro," Chase hissed, feeling tight bro hole surround his cock.

Brandon's voice was hoarse with need. "For you, buddy..."

Chase's lips curled into an excited sneer. Then he began pounding Brandon's ass, with hard heavy thrusts. For a longer session, he'd go for distance more. But after the felching just now, he was worked up. He could still taste six men's seed on his tongue. "Mother fuck!" he cried. And seeded his brother's hole.

He was in a more affectionate mood when he withdrew. "You good for a couple more, bro?"

Brandon dropped his legs to the bed. This was the only part that embarrassed him, admitting to Chase that he still wanted other guys. But Chase's fuck had been quick, and Brandon still hadn't gotten off. "Yeah, I'm good."

Chase tucked in and zipped up. He laughed then leaned down to kiss his older brother. The first and only kiss Brandon Kelly would get that night.

"All right. I'll tell those fuckers to tip better, too," he smirked. "Just because you're a whore doesn't mean they can't be grateful."

God. even when putting him down his little brother could be sexy as fuck.

"Give me five, bro?" Brandon asked. "I gotta piss." He'd been going a solid hour without a break.

Chase nudged his chin and winked. "Take ten. It'll just make the next dude hornier."

And like that his brother was off to play pimp for the rest of the night.

[theseedsowers]

[homoeroticwords]

The upstanding dad from your church who fucks you into next Sunday.

[firebootrik]

[drakestories-deactivated2019092]

Drew Carson, the 1st string running back on the Jefferson High team, shuffled nervously in the greeting cards section of the drug store. Ten feet down was a man as tall as he was, only with the fuller build of a man in his late 40s. Drew had been doing a lot of jerking off lately and a lot of exploring porn about real men…. muscle guys, cops, daddy types. This guy seemed to be all of Drew’s fantasies rolled into one.

That’s why he stood there, unable to leave, trying to stare at the police officer as much as he dared without attracting attention. Drew picked up another card and desperately wished the little girl at the end of the aisle would join her mother at the cash register. At last the girl left and Drew took in a deep breath and took a couple steps leftward, toward the officer. He wasn’t sure the words were going to come out of his mouth but they did.

“Tough finding a card, huh?”

Officer Roger Jones looked up, surprised at the presence of a young athlete next to him, dressed in the undeniable unofficial uniform of a high school jock: MLB ball cap, white Jefferson High team T-shirt, faded jeans, and flip flops. He was undeniably young, Officer Jones thought immediately, but something prematurely adult, too… the build, the stature, the confidence the kid had. Immediately, Jones went into Officer Friendly mode and broke into a laugh.

“Don’t ya know it. My wife told me to pick up something for our niece’s birthday party. How the hell am I supposed to know which card to get.”

Drew smiled, feeling a little more relaxed. “I know, right? They’re all cheesy, your niece probably doesn’t care as long as there’s a gift card inside.”

“You’re probably right,” the cop laughed and put down one of the cards he was looking at. He started to pick up one at random and walk away when he stopped. Not ready to end the conversation. “What are you looking for?”

Drew gave a nervous shrug. “It’s for my dad. Father’s Day.”

“I take it the gift card trick’s not gonna work then,” Jones joked.

“No sir,” Drew answered, chuckling before his face got serious. “You know, we’re not that close lately, but well, I want him to know how important he is to me.” The athlete blushed but something about this policeman’s calm, laidback demeanor brought it out in him.

The officer felt a lump of emotion in his throat. “I’m sure he knows. We dads aren’t always good at expressing ourselves, but we can usually tell what our kids are thinking.”

“Yeah?” Drew looked Roger in the eye with an intense look of expectation.

“I got a boy of my own. Sometimes I don’t tell him that I love him or that I’m proud of him, like I ought to. I dunno, I guess I worry he’ll think he’s grown too old for that.”

Drew shook his head. “He won’t sir. Not if he’s like me.”

Now it was Jones who stepped a little closer to Drew and put his hand paternally on the running back’s shoulder. “I guess there’s a bond you never grow out of, huh?”

The man’s fingers were now gently massaging Drew’s muscular shoulder, sending electricity straight to the teen’s cock. “No, sir.”

Jones pulled his hand back all of a sudden and seemed to be mulling something over in his mind. “You want to go to the park some time, toss around a football? Jake doesn’t seem to have time for his old man lately, and I thought… well….” his voice trailed off and his face blushed a bright crimson.

“I…. I’d like that, Officer.”

The older man smiled. “Listen, I’m on shift now, and got this goddamn birthday party to go to, but if you can wait till after dinnertime, I can meet you at Perkins Park, next to the baseball diamond.”

Drew Carson shook the man’s hand in a strong grip, agreeing to meet later that Saturday.

Jones was all changed into a casual polo shirt and shorts, and Drew wore the practice jersey cut off shorts he usually did drills with. It was getting dusk out in the park and the two men had thrown the ball around for a good hour before laughing and sitting down in the grass and talking, their hands edging closer to one another and finally touching.

They made their way across the field and to the hedges and an abandoned, half-rotted bench. Drew Carson dropped his shorts and watched at the police officer did the same. The older man was not record breaking in cock size, but the prick was hard and powerful and looked even more ominous as Roger opened a lube packet with his mouth and squirted the liquid on his steely erection.

He put a towel on the bench so that the athlete could lay back and spread his legs. The cop knelt down and nudged his way into the crevice of the tight hole. He suspected Drew was virgin, particularly as he felt the tightness gripping his prick at entry. But the boy was a real trooper and bit his lip as he let the older man enter, then fuck him.

Roger Jones wanted to speak, wanted to say something badly, but he was afraid of breaking the spell. Fortunately Drew did it for him.

“Fuck me, Dad,” he whispered.

Officer Jones leaned forward and placed an open-mouthed kiss on Drew as he fucked impatiently toward an orgasm inside his substitute son.

[thelockerroom]

[drakestories-deactivated2019092]

The wedding’s a month away, and my fiancee Emily decided to spend the long weekend doing some intensive planning with her mother. Her father, Mr. Stenson, called me out of the blue a week ago.

“Jim,” he greeted, “It’s Hank.” My future father in law insists I call him by his first name. He’s an easy guy to get along with, and I’m starting to get used to being on a first name basis with him. “Got anything going on this next weekend? I’m heading up to the lake house Thursday night and wanted to see if you wanted to come along. We can get in some golf if the weather’s good.”

Hank’s a little obsessed with golf, but that’s OK by me. I’ve taken up playing pretty regularly and always enjoyed the opportunity to play, particularly if Hank was picking up the tab.

“Sure,” I said. “Thinking of taking the Friday off.”

“Fine. I can come by and pick you up around 8?”

So that’s how I ended up in this awkward situation. Me and Hank nude, sitting in close quarters in a hot tub. Trying to carry on a normal conversation despite feeling some feelings I shouldn’t be feeling. Trying to figure out if the intent looks Hank’s giving me mean anything. Me blushing anything his hairy leg accidentally grazes mine.

The evening started innocently enough. A couple drinks and dinner after golf, a pleasant buzz as we nursed some quality bourbon when we got back to the lake, Hank suggesting we take a dip in the hot tub. It’s the end of summer but the air up here is cool enough at night to make the hot tub seem just the thing.

Hank showers off and I do, too. I put on my swim trunks and when I get down to the deck I see Hank has his on, too. Only after ten minutes or so in the tub, he says in a casual offhand way. “I like these better in my birthday suit. It’s just us men here. You mind?”

I nod no and watch as he shimmies out of his trunks and pulls them up out of the water, plopping them on the deck next to the tub. “There. Much better.” He relaxes into bubbles, shutting his eyes briefly before cracking them open again. “Feel free, Jim. I swear you’ll be glad.”

I’m nervous, I mean, my father-and-law-to-be are on good terms but not that close. But I figure what the hell. My trunks land next to his and I ease back into the jets. He’s right, it feels awesome.

“Thanks for inviting me up here, Hank. This place is pretty great.”

“Any time. You and Em will be spending a lot of time up here, I’m sure once you’re married. Besides, I figured you could use a break from all the wedding planning.”

“And how,” I say. “If I have to see another invitation or catering menu….”

“Ha. I love the women in my life dearly but sometimes I need a little guy time. You know?”

I nod in agreement. Despite the age difference and despite the fact he’s my in-law, it’s relaxed, like hanging out with my fraternity brothers or workmates. It’s a nice realization.

That is, until I feel his leg brush against mine. It’d be fine only the contact makes me bone up. I’ve never thought of Hank that way, but the close proximity and the setting and the nudity is making me think of him that way. I can see his built chest, the hair trimmed but covering the expanse of his hard muscle and thickening down toward the abs. For a man nearing 50, he’s kept in good shape. Handsome, too, the silvery edge of his receding hair making him look more distinguished.

It’s the worst time to be having these thoughts but I can’t help it. Not knowing Mr. Stenson’s nude underneath the bubbles. And not seeing these quiet stares he’s giving me during lulls in our converstation. I find myself staring back, equally intense and quiet, meeting his challenge with my own gaze. Feeding off the sexual energy centered in my throbbing erection beneath the water. I just hope I can will myself softer before I have to get out.

He closes his eyes again, savoring the warmth of the water and letting me inspect his body more closely. He’s a white collar dude, a mid-level executive at an insurance corporation. But his muscle is real, manly. Fuck.

“I’m gonna prune up,” he whispers and turns his body around, hoisting himself up. I think he’s getting out of the tub, but instead he props his upper body along the edge, keeping his legs in the tub but facing away from me.

God, his back is as big and strong as his front. He’s had his back shaved or waxed, I can tell, but the fur has sprouted back. Best of all is his ass - round, meaty, powerful.

It’s like he’s on display for me. I mean, no guy gets out of a hot tub like that, right? But I can’t be sure. I can only stare, erect as I’ve ever been, staring at my dad-in-law’s ass. I fooled around with some of the guys in my fraternity and yes I’ve fucked ass a few times. That was carefree fun, this is something more primal, more off-the-hook sexual. Taboo as fuck.

We’re like that for a few minutes. Me too chicken to do anything but wanting to badly. Until I finally announce that I’m gonna prune up, too and lift my self to a seated position. My boner stands up obscenely but I have to take a chance. Hank isn’t looking back, he just mumbles an acknowledgment as I nudge his leg with my right foot. He speads his legs a little. An unmistakeable sign.

My heard pounding, I stand up in the tub. I don’t have to move forward eight inches before I’m making contact with Hank’s body. Legs against legs, my hover cock hovering a little above his proffered ass. He shuffles a little, bucking up against me, communicating unmistakeable desire.

I bend down a little and nestle my dick against his crack. That gets a deep moan out of the man. Fuck, this is gonna happen.

I nudge my prick down so the head is against his hole. It’s snug and damp from the water and feels wonderful. I take in the sensation but soon Hank is back himself against me, applying pressure until my cock pops inside him. I’m taken by surprise but not nearly as much as when I watch him buck his ass back against my dick. Hustling himself all the way down, silently but hornily. Eager to get himself fucked.

I grip his meaty waist, grappling on eagerly. I steady myself and him and use my hips to control the fucking motion. I was concern the dry fuck would be too hard on him, but I realize he’s lubed himself up already with something greasy. Pretty soon my cock is a well-oiled piston plunging and out of his tight dad hole.

It’s hot and so nasty. My boning my father in law like this, without even exchanging words. Just him bending over for me. I can’t hold back, I start coming. A long, loud cum as I let loose a good few days’ load inside the man.

He’s close behind and I can sense him flag his cock furiously trying to cum while I was still unloading in him. Sure enough, he starts choking back loud grunts as ropes of semen start flying out onto the deck.

I’m slowing down my thrust to a standstill and before I pull out I can’t help it, I lean forward and give the back of his neck a kiss.

When my spent cock plops free, Hank bounds up out of the tub, and I watch as my burly father in law picks up the hose and washes my cum out of his ass crack, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. He slips on his flip flops and walks back into the house.

I think uh-oh here comes the weird part of the evening. The reckoning. I’m spent of energy and a little light headed from the booze and the hot tub and the fucking and I sit back into the water and catch my breath.

Only the screen door opens again and Hank walks out, still nude as the news, his hardon shrunken to a respectable lengthed soft cock. In his hand are two fresh beers. He hands me one as he kicks off his flip flops and steps back into the tub.

“Here you go, Jim. You deserve it after that performance.”

I blush but return a cocky grin, a little proud of the intense fuck I just threw the man.

“Not your first time doing that, I take it?” Hank asks.

“No sir,” I take a sip of beer. It’s probably the best tasting beer I’ve ever had.

“I could tell. Not my first time either, but you probably figured that out.”

I laugh. “I thought maybe you’d had some experience.”

Hank smiles and enjoys his beer, too, before getting a serious look. “I know I’m not in much a position to ask, but… is there anything I should know about? You know, pertaining to you and Em?”

“No, Em and I are great. I’m straight, well bi,” I answer. “I thought my college experiments were behind me…”

“Guess I never outgrew mine,” Hank says thoughtfully.

I can tell he feels guilty as hell, and truth be told I’m feeling some major guilt as well. But I know if my dad-in-law offers himself to me again, I’m gonna bone him again. And the very thought makes my dick firm up once more in the water.

He must sense something in the way I’m looking at him, because he practically growls. “Jesus, you getting hard again already?”

I nod affirmatively, taking a long draw on my beer.

Hank shakes his head in disbelief. “It’ll take me a little while to recover.”

“I got nowhere to go, Mr. Stenson,” I say.

Hank laughs. “Figures I’d get a horndog for a son-in-law.” He clinks my bottle with his in a toast. “To long weekends.”

“To long weekends,” I say, running my feel along his hairy calves, enjoying the feel of my erection sticking up in the warm water.