Disclaimers: I am an adult. I wrote this story based solely on imagination and have not infringed on anyone's copyright. This story involves homosexual sex between consenting males -- children will not appear in this or any future stories in this section. This story does not include blackmail, kidnapping, rape, minors, suicide, or homicide. Bareback sex is a risky sexual option, and this story does not encourage you to have unprotected sex -- although there is a lot of truth woven into the story -- there is a great deal of fantasy as well, including barebacking. And, yes, I do have a silk/nylon fetish. There are no links provided for finding this story elsewhere. If it is illegal in your jurisdiction to view, read, or have this material, or if you are a minor, you are asked to leave this story and this page.
Pete
I was scheduled Monday night, and after working a few Monday nights, I wondered why I was even needed. I dreaded it and really thought about calling out. Aside from that, Mondays were just a rough, chaotic day with class practice and work. Then I got a text message about my cell bill, and I realized I needed the little bit I was likely going to make.
As I predicted, it was relatively quiet. I was cleaning up to be ready to go when I was told I could. The head bartender called out to me, "Hey, go get table 105!" I was pissed and shot him a nasty look. But I pulled on my smile, grabbed my tray, and went over to 105. A guy I suspected was in his mid-40s was seated with his back to me. He had broad shoulders, but he wasn't overly beefy. He was wearing a greyish/purple satin shirt, and even from behind, it looked good. He had nicely defined shoulders and a nice neck. I know you might laugh at thinking someone has a nice neck. It was solid, not wrinkly, tan, and not hairy.
I went to the side of the table where I could directly face him, and I knew he noticed my eyes light up. Sitting before me was a handsome older guy with a nice, greying, well-manicured beard and mustache. His temples were greying, too, and even though his hair was cut short and stylish while staying age-appropriate, he wasn't losing much of it. No high forehead, no bald spot on the crown. He had smoldering dark blue eyes, no wrinkles, and a tight jawline. His fitted shirt outlined a nice chest, trim waist, and sizeable upper arms. He had loosened his tie but not completely. He still looked professional. He didn't smile but had a face that looked contented -- not a brooder. He was reading the Wall Street Journal when I finally spoke.
"Hi there, what can I get for you tonight?"
He looked up from his reading and gave me a genuine smile. His teeth were perfect, too.
He looked at me, first my eyes, then he did a quick all over. He smiled again. "I think I'll just have a beer tonight -- you choose."
"How about a Modelo?"
"Yeah, that sounds about right."
I returned with his beer, and he thanked me and returned to the paper. I brought him two more before he finally decided that he had better make it a night and get to his hotel. It was only 9:30, and while I didn't have much more to do, I started cleaning up and preparing to leave. It was time to put an end to this shift. I clocked out and headed out the front door to my scooter when a parked car rolled down the window. "Excuse me?" a vaguely familiar voice called out to me.
I looked up at the window but couldn't figure out who it was. I slowly approached the car but kept a little distance between me and the car. "Yeah?"
"Hey, you served me tonight. Just wanted to thank you again for your service."
I was relieved. It wasn't some goon trying to make a ruckus. It was the older guy from earlier.
"Oh, hey, thank you! It was a pleasure."
"Did you need a ride somewhere?" he asked cautiously.
"Oh," I stammered, "thanks, but I have my scooter."
He extended his hand from the window, "My name is Pete."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Thom." He had a killer handshake; nothing wimpy or questionable there.
"Hey, uhm, I'm going to be in town for the week and wondered if you might be able to show me around."
It was the first time I heard him stammering. He seemed confident when he was drinking, and I found this surprising. I quickly scanned my week in my head and said, "Sure, between practice, work, and school, I have a few days available."
"What's tomorrow morning look like for you?" he asked me again cautiously.
"Oh shit," I thought, "this guy wants to hook up." Not that I was necessarily against that, but I had a tight day tomorrow as well.
"I have early morning lap practice -- 6:30 a.m. I miss, I don't get to be in the meet Wednesday."
"You know, my coach would let me go to any gym to practice when I was in school. I have a membership to Bally's, and they have a pool. Wouldn't hurt me to do a few laps myself."
I snickered, "I got to do 150."
Pete smiled, "I can do that."
"Alright, pick me up at 6, and we can bang 'em out together."
Precisely at 6 on the dot, Pete pulled up in front of the dorm, and I hopped in the passenger seat.
"Good morning," he beamed. He was really dressed down from last night. He had on sweats, even though they looked pretty expensive. They hugged his body nicely, and I really liked how tight it looked on his waist, which was nice and trim. Even though it was slightly unzipped, the top really hugged his chest, and it looked like he had a pretty lovely chest, too.
"Morning," I smiled back. "Are you ready for today?"
"I think so," he replied. "Hey, look back there on top of my gym bag; there's something there for you.
I turned around and found a thin four by four inch little white box. I grabbed it and looked at Pete, confused.
"Open it. I guessed at the size, and if you don't like it, we can return it."
It was a sapphire blue nylon Speedo, the kind water polo players wear. I smiled at it.
"So, I guess you like it?" Pete asked, breaking my concentration for a minute.
We got to Bally's in about 10 minutes and went to the locker room. The place wasn't that busy yet, and we began to change. Pete had no shame when he got fully undressed in front of me. It's not so strange when you consider that we both had been in locker rooms, changing in front of other guys for most of our adult lives. He had what I think was an impressive body for someone his age. The musculature really took my breath away. He was defined, and it looked good. He was also sporting a beautifully sized semi-hard cock. He shaved his balls because they were tight and full-looking without any hair. I shaved my legs and chest for swimming but never shaved my balls. It was a turn-on.
Then he reached into the side of his bag and pulled out an identical white box, and from it slipped another pair of blue Speedos. He looked at me as he pulled them up over his package. I would have thought he was one of my jockier teammates if he didn't have grey hair. I smiled.
"Now, I need to be on my game, I guess," I said.
He laughed and tousled my hair, and we grabbed our goggles and towels and headed off to the pool.
Pete was downright impressive, no matter what. He kept up with me lap for lap. He forced me not to be lazy, and I must admit he was a good competition and coach.
"Do you have time for breakfast?" he asked, slapping my ass on the way back to the locker room.
I chuckled, "Yeah, I think so." I didn't really, but I was really beginning to dig Pete.
I was late for my first class, but I had gotten Pete's number at breakfast, and we made plans for later in the day. He wanted to check out some sites and have dinner if I was available. I wasn't scheduled for work for the next two nights, and I was going to make myself available.
When I got into his car later that afternoon, he looked at me seriously. He asked if I'd be OK with not going to do the touring thing and, instead, if I wanted to go with him to DC for a few things. He said we could have dinner in the city. I wasn't upset about the change of plans and told him I'd be OK with that. Although, I felt like I might be underdressed for dinner. He sort of laughed.
"You'll be fine," he said.
As it turns out, I would be fine because when we got to DC, we stopped at Lord and Taylor in Arlington. He took me to the men's section, spoke to some important-looking guy, and I was whisked off to a dressing room with a few shirts and suits in tow within minutes. Somehow, this dressing room had a lot of space to change, mirrors everywhere, incandescent lighting, and a few nice chairs for people to sit down and watch you getting dressed and undressed. Pete was in one of those chairs, leaning back and watching my dresser undress me, have me measured by someone else, and then dressed up again in a different shirt and suit. I looked at Pete, puzzled. He just put his finger to his lips, shook his head, and smiled. The dressers would look at Pete when they finished putting me into an outfit. He'd either nod or shake his head, sometimes telling them to get a tighter pair of pants or a more tailored shirt for me.
After about an hour of this, we came out of the dressing room with me wearing an exact replica of what Pete had on, except for a slight color change for the shirt and tie and a suit bag of three suits and a half dozen shirts. About 10 pairs of silky bikini underwear were brought along the way, and I was told to change into a pair of them, too. I had a couple pair of new dress shoes, a belt, some socks, and two neckties. Two salespeople followed us and carried all our other stuff to the car. Pete unlocked the doors with his remote, and the guys put our bags carefully in the back seat.
Pete looked over at me, and I know he saw me puzzled and wondering what had just hit me. He ran his fingers through my messy mop of hair and shook his head.
"C'mon, we're going back in. We got to get you cleaned up." Some people might have felt badly at this point, but I enjoyed feeling his hand on my head and walked next to him, trying to look as confident as he did. We stopped at some upscaleish hair salon, and Pete spoke with the main guy in charge, and I was put into a chair with an apron around my shoulders and covered completely. "Remember, stylish for an 18-year-old," Pete almost sounded like he was warning the hairdresser. He sat down in a chair, manspreading and reading the Washington Post while the guy working on my hair was primping and preening me with little spikes here and there and a trim all over and filling my hair with mousse and gel. My jaw dropped when I turned around to see myself in the mirror. Swimming isn't healthy for any head of hair, but this guy had transformed me from a shaggy college boy into almost a young male model. At least my hair made me look like I was a model. I still looked young and jockish, but what I really looked like was refined. No one at home would know who I was if I went into the store we shopped at or the restaurant we used to eat at.
I stood up, and Pete got up to examine me. He turned me around and murmured, "That's good." I was facing him, and he reached over to my shoulder and picked off a piece of lint or maybe some stray hair.
"Hungry?" he asked me, putting his arm over my shoulders as we left the salon.
"Yeah, I am, but damn, I don't think I can overeat; I might pop a button on this shirt."
Pete started howling, laughing. He grabbed my shoulder with his hand and squeezed it.
"Buddy, you look good. You could almost pass as my son." I looked up at him.
"Don't worry. I only have two daughters, who're both off to college. We never had a boy. If I had a son, I think he'd look like you."
"Whoa!" I stopped dead in my tracks and got out from under his arm.
"Is that what all this is?" I demanded. I had my hands resting lightly on my waistband.
I think I surprised Pete when I got so rude. He walked up to me with his face in mine and only said, "No! I'd never be able to do with a son what I've been able to do with you."
We were quiet on the way to dinner. I felt terrible for being a prick. For once, he didn't know what to say. When we parked at the restaurant, he turned to me and asked, "Are you OK for this?" I looked over at him and smiled.
"I'm sorry, Pete. I don't understand everything that's happened today. I don't want to be ungrateful. I don't understand -- do you want me to be someone different?"
He grabbed my hand, "Maybe I pushed this too far, too fast. Hell no, I want you to be you. I thought it might be fun to treat you like I think you should be treated. I wanted to honor you in a way you never believed you deserved. I think you are perfect the way you were before the haircut, clothes, and Speedo. I also think I'd like to spend a lot more time with you, and I thought maybe you'd enjoy being on a pedestal. You don't even know how special you are. Damn, we've only known each other for nearly a day? I liked how you didn't treat me like some old guy last night, this morning in the pool, and today while we were shopping."
"Really?" my eyes were brimming with tears.
"Don't," Pete reached up with his thumb to my eye. "Yes, really."
I burst out crying. Pete reached over and pulled my head onto his shoulder. "It's OK, buddy. It's really OK." He kept stroking my hair, patting my shoulder, and rubbing my neck.
I grabbed his hand, "Stop, you're going to mess up this expensive haircut!" He started laughing again.
"You've gotten my shoulder wet," he continued laughing.
"I'm sorry about that," I said, genuinely sorry I had.
He wiped the remaining tears from my face carefully and gently. "Don't worry about that!"
If there was anything that the cold winds of January were good for, it was to dry up your face after crying and give you an excuse for red eyes when you arrived at an excellent place for dinner in Georgetown. The maitre 'd must have known Pete because he promptly stopped his conversation with some cookie-cutter couple and came right over.
"I've never met your son before, Mr. Walker. So good to see you again."
Pete looked at me with a "See, I told you so" look. I just grinned.
DC is well-known for its snobbishness and self-absorption, but Pete and I gathered a good number of respectable looks and nods as we were being led to our table. I've eaten out before but never in as fancy of a restaurant as this. I just followed Pete's lead. He picked up the menu and held it up to examine the offerings. I did the same.
Without looking up or away from the menu, I casually asked, "You know, I don't think I ever asked what you did for a living."
I could see from the corner of my eye that Pete had lowered his menu and had cocked up an eyebrow.
"Damn, boy -- don't you ever change a thing. You're blunt and smooth all at once. You're right; we never did discuss that. Well, I'm an attorney in New York who happens to be on a traveling tour of Virginia and DC for the foreseeable future. I guess there are some other things we haven't discussed. You know I have two daughters. I'm married, but we haven't had sex in nearly a decade. I went to Yale and plan to stay a lawyer until I retire in about five years."
I lowered my menu as well and nodded while pursing my lips. "That's impressive, actually."
Pete started laughing again. "What is it you're studying, by the way? I don't think we ever discussed that either."
"English, with six foreign languages as minors. I'm on a swimming scholarship, come from a shit hole of a town in Ohio, and don't plan to get married or have any kids. I might join the military as a translator after school."
Pete leaned back in his chair and looked like he was blown away. "Really?" he asked.
"What?" I wasn't sure if he was annoyed or impressed.
"Six foreign language minors? I could barely make it through Spanish." He laughed.
It helped me relax, and we spent the rest of dinner chatting about hopes, dreams, and aspirations.
While driving back to school in matching suits, Pete grabbed mine with his right hand.
"I'm thrilled I met you. I'm serious. I want to get to know you better. What else do you have on tap for this week?"
I held his hand firmly and listed off my schedule for the rest of the week. He countered every event I had with what he had scheduled for that day. We came up with being able to get together on Wednesday night and Friday afternoon, and he was leaving Friday night.
Wednesday night was my swim meet, and I was excited to see him there. Only a few of our swim meets had many people at them, so it wasn't hard to miss him. I waved excitedly. He had his expensive tracksuit on, and he was cheering our team and me on. He was waiting for me when I left the locker room.
"Hey, Champ, good job!" he hugged me right there while my other teammates filed out around us. I think I blushed, but I didn't feel the slightest bit of embarrassment. I breathed him in deeply. He was wearing some exotic, expensive cologne. He had a tight T-shirt on that really showed off his chest. Of course, he had his zipper down enough on his tracksuit for it to be on full display.
"Want to go anywhere, get something to eat?" He draped his arm around my shoulders.
"You know, I'm not really hungry," I started off, "and most everything is closing up soon. I wouldn't mind just sitting in your hotel room watching some TV, if that's OK."
"Sure, that would be fine; maybe I'll get a bite to eat from room service. Actually, that would be just perfect."
We arrived at his suite. This was no hotel room. It was a full-on luxury apartment at the top of the hotel. I whistled silently when he opened the door. On the couch was a familiar white square box. I turned to him and said, "How did that get here?" He just chuckled and asked me to open it. In it was a green pair of Speedos. I ran over to him and hugged him. I think it surprised him that I was that quick, but he took my head and held it to his chest. He bent down and kissed me on top of my head.
"Did you happen to get a pair for yourself?" I asked him, grinning.
"I guess you'll have to wait and see," he said and then began to take off his jacket.
He was actually a sight to behold in his shirt that fit his body perfectly. His arms also looked impressive -- perfect development of both his biceps and triceps. I don't actually think he saw me looking at him. Under his track pants, he only wore a pair of running shorts. They looked expensive and made him look like a beefy track jock. My mouth was agape. That he saw.
"What's up?" he nodded at me.
"I don't know, what's up with you?" I quietly asked back.
"Damn," he began trembling slightly. "Damn, how do I begin?" He sat on the couch, manspreading and locking his fingers behind his head.
"Look, like I told you the other night, I haven't had sex with my wife in over ten years, but the truth is I haven't had sex at all with anyone in over ten years. I don't know what happened, but one day, she just stopped, and despite everything I tried, she wouldn't budge. There was a time I thought it was me, so I hit the gym hard and began working out, training, and even swimming, thinking that maybe she thought I was out of shape. I wasn't, but the training has been mentally and physically good for me. Then, as time went on and the girls got into high school and then college, things didn't happen between us anymore -- no more dinners out with friends, no more parties that we felt obligated to throw. And then she became colder and distant. I decided we probably needed a divorce about five years ago, but she was adamant that we wouldn't do that. Getting a divorce because we didn't have sex anymore was tricky legal maneuvering, and I didn't have the energy or patience for it. So here we are to today. I'm happy being away and traveling. I'm happy that I'm in the best shape of my life. But I'm lonely. When you were so nice to me the other night, I maybe mistook it for something I shouldn't have. I thought maybe you and I . . ." he trailed off.
I stood there in wonder, and my mouth was open again. I tried to speak, but he started again.
"Damn, maybe you're straight; maybe you're just being a nice guy to an old man," he continued.
"Wait, wa-, wai-, wait a minute, hear?" I turned red. I wasn't angry with him, but what he said pissed me off.
I took a deep breath, relaxed my face, and said, "You're no old man! Look at you; I'd consider you one of my peers. Moreover, I'm not going to let you get yourself down. You fucking swam 150 laps with me and kept me challenged the whole damned time. I have teammates who can't do that! Ten years without sex? Are you kidding me? I sometimes feel I can't go ten minutes!" He started laughing at that.
I sat down next to him, and this time, it was me who draped my arm over his shoulders. "Can I ask you a personal question?" He looked at me incredulously.
"Have you ever been with a guy before?" I asked quietly.
He shook his head, and I took a deep breath.
I got up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen sink. I put my hands on the edge and leaned over it.
"Are you OK?" Pete looked over at me, concerned.
"I'm fine!" I pushed away from the sink and swiftly walked over to where he was sitting. I pulled him up by his expensive but still great fitting t-shirt and went in and planted the biggest, most passionate kiss I've ever given on him. Almost hesitating, he carefully lifted his hands and put them on my shoulders. He moaned and tried to pull away, but I wouldn't let him. I put my hands on each side of his face and kissed him. He kissed me back and moved his hands to my face. We were locked for at least two minutes, our tongues pressing into each other's mouths.
"There, does that answer the question about my sexuality?" I grinned at him.
"What is it you're trying to say?" he looked at me quizzically.
"I'm saying 'yeah,' I'm saying yes, I'd like to see more of you. I'm saying yes, I'm gay, and yes, I would like to sleep with you."
Pete bit his lower lip. "That's not pity, is it?"
I shook my head.
"It's not feeling like you have to for the dinner, the clothes?"
"Nope. C'mon, what else can you dream up why I wouldn't or shouldn't want to?"
"You're a smart-ass, aren't you?" Pete laughed at me.
I leaned in and kissed him again. "Yep!"
I love Wednesday nights. The first obligation I have on Thursday is 10 a.m.
I had Pete take me to his bedroom. Unlike other newbies, this guy was confident and did it without hesitation. He turned the nightstand lights on low. I reached over and took them up one level. Pete looked at me, confused.
"I want to see every bit of you while we're having sex." He smiled bashfully.
He pulled the covers down, and wouldn't you know, but there were black satin sheets!
I helped him remove his t-shirt, "I'm sorry if I stretched or ruined this earlier."
"I don't think you could ruin anything," he purred.
I put my hands on his waistband and pushed his silky shorts down. I began laughing hard. He looked at me and remembered, and he started laughing, too. He was wearing his green Speedos underneath. I fumbled with the drawstring and pulled them down, too. His cock was hard and bounced slightly when it was freed from his Speedos. He really was great to look at.
Pete repeated the same process I had just done to him, removing my clothes. He reached out and pulled me closer to him. Our hard cocks smacked each others, and I nestled into his muscular body. He kissed me on my closed eye lids and the bridge of my nose.
"Damn, you're beautiful," he whispered.
"You don't look like any old man I know," I replied.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. I rubbed my hand over his chest and down his abs and licked my lips. He didn't have an ounce of fat on him; his stomach was flat and tight with visible veins running through. Without the grey, he could have passed for his late 20s.
"I guess this is as good a time as any since we never really talked about who was doing what," I said.
He sat beside me and put his hand on my thigh. "I think I'd like to make love to you tonight," he said.
"Yes!" I cheered in my head.
"You can say you want to fuck me, I won't get offended."
"I could, I suppose, but that's not treating you like you deserve to be treated," he said quietly.
That tugged at me, and I laid my head on his shoulder for a minute.
I hurried back towards the pillows and lay there with my legs open. His sizable cock was gaining length, and I was getting horny. This was no regular hookup. Pete was working me hard. And I was enjoying every second of it. I reached for his cock, and he shuttered. It was hard, steel hard, and I knew he was going to hurt.
He reached over to the nightstand, and somehow, magically, there were condoms and lube. I looked at him, smiling, and he looked a little shy. "Well," he shrugged, his big shoulders lifting up every upper body muscle in unison. "I didn't know when or if. . ."
I had gotten used to being eaten out before getting nailed, and I won't say I was disappointed, but I knew I would miss that tonight. He gently fingered me with a lubed index finger while he rolled on a condom.
"You don't have to wear that," I said.
"I might not be old, but I am a little old-fashioned. I do," he said.
"You don't," I grabbed his cock and took the condom off.
He penetrated me with gentle fingering and worked on getting his cock slick by rubbing some lube on his beefy cock. He looked so good, hovering at my ass. His tight body and excellent digital work had me pretty horny. He put the tip of his cock at my hole and pushed. I wanted him in me, so I pushed back, helping him get in. He shuddered, closed his eyes, and gasped. So did I. He was painfully hard. He had a great-sized cock, to begin with, but if it were true that he hadn't had sex in ten years, I knew the only way this hard-on was going away was with a load shot into me.
He eased his way into me, and I gasped and moaned with every inch. He seemed concerned with my pain, but this was his first sex in ten years, and I think that took over in his mind. I didn't care necessarily about the pain; I'd get used to it in a few minutes. He was tossing his head back and forth and moaning loudly. He knew how to fuck that's for sure, no real training needed here. Soon, he changed his cadence and stroke length, and I could feel him fully in me. It hurt, but this man was enjoying my tight ass. I wasn't stopping this for anything. He roughly put his hands on the bend of my knees and pushed my upper legs down. Fuck, he was in deep. Then suddenly, the pain subsided, and I started feeling myself let go some and let him really dig deeper. He appreciated that I could tell because he began piston fucking my hole. Whenever his cock head grazed my prostate, I dribbled some precum on my belly. He was bucking wildly at this point; sweat began forming on his muscles and forehead, and with one last thrust, I could feel him shooting violent spasms of his seed in me. For my part, I had shot all over myself about 30 seconds before him. He had his eyes closed the entire time, but I watched his muscles twitch and convulse as he rammed the last of his thrusts in me. His body was drenched in sweat, and it was red. He was panting hard, and I could actually see his heart beating on his chest muscles.
He opened his eyes and looked down at me. "Damn, that was great!"
"Yes, it was!"
He slowly and hesitantly withdrew from me.
We got up and got a shower together. I massaged his back, and it made him melt like ice cream. He turned around and held me close, and we stood in the shower with the warm water running over us for nearly a half hour. We dried each other off and walked over to the bed. We were both spent emotionally, sexually, and physically over the past few days. I reached down beside the bed and threw him his Speedos. I went out to the living room, grabbed my box, and put mine on. We slid into bed together in our Speedos, and I gladly spooned with him as we drifted off into a contented, well-earned rest.
Early the following morning, I woke up precisely the same way I fell asleep. Pete had his arm underneath mine, holding me close, and he was slightly rubbing his fingers up and down the first two ridges of my abs. With his other hand, he was gently pinching my nipple. I felt his hot breath on my neck every time he put a kiss on my neck at my newly trimmed hairline. He was warm and comfortable beside me, and I felt powerless to move. I didn't want to, anyhow. I could feel his hardness, and he was slowly grinding his cock on my ass, even if we had our Speedos on.
"Good morning," he whispered.
"Good morning," I moved back closer to him.
His cock was insistent, and I knew we both had little time this morning, so I broke from his hold and rolled him on his back. I quickly untied his drawstring and placed my mouth on his rigid prick. He moaned. I could feel my cock beading precum and removed it through the leg of my Speedo and started pumping it. I bobbed up and down on his delicious cock. Pete was moaning and moving his hips to push more of it into me. I rubbed his lower belly with my free hand and occasionally reached up to pinch his nipples. He grabbed my head, and with one forceful shove, he was pumping his seed down my throat. I shot my load all over the sheets.
"Wow!"
"Yeah!" I replied, settling back on his outstretched arm. He moved his face over and kissed me but pulled back quickly.
"Mmm, is that what it tastes like?" he seemed grossed out.
"What?" I asked
"Is that what come tastes like?" He apparently had tasted something I didn't wholly get down my throat.
"Probably. Don't worry. You don't have to taste it if you don't want to."
He looked at me and said, "I think I want to get used to tasting yours." He had a way of making me feel emotionally stronger with him.
"I've got an early morning meeting," he said, punching the quiet calm of being together. "And between our schedules, I know we don't have time to get together today, but maybe you could come over tonight and spend the night with me again?"
"Yeah, I'd really like that," I said, and he leaned over and kissed me again.
"Hey Pete," I began as he started removing his Speedo, "Uhm, do you think you could wear those all day? They could be your underwear, sort of. I'm keeping mine on. Just don't get them wet."
He looked at me, not really understanding, but he left them on, and we continued getting dressed.
He dropped me off near where my first class was, and as I got out of the car, he grabbed my hand. "I don't think I should kiss you here, even though I really want to."
"I wish I could kiss you back." I gave his strong hand a good squeeze.
Even though I was busy most of the day, I found that it was a long 15 hours.
We had decided that it might be better for Friday morning if I drove over to the hotel on my scooter. That worked out for the best because I was able to leave work earlier that night than usual, and I had hoped to surprise Pete by getting to his place before our 11 p.m. scheduled time.
I went up and knocked on the door. Pete opened the door, and his face lit up. "Oh wow!" he said, pulling me in. "You're a sight for sore eyes." He was still dressed like he was when we parted this morning. He looked great even after a long day. I buried my face on his nice chest. He bent down and kissed the crown of my head. I put an arm around him and rested a minute. I could feel his heartbeat, and my day started feeling right again.
"C'mon, sit down," Pete started, helping me out of my jacket. "I just finished dinner. Do you want me to order you something?"
"No, I'm fine, thanks. Had a bite to eat at work earlier."
He looked over at me and put his hand on my knee. "I'm ashamed of myself for last night."
"Wha, wha, what do you mean?" I stuttered.
He shook his head, "It's OK, you were great, it was me. I told you that I wanted to make love to you, but I really didn't do that, did I? I just, as you called it, fucked you. That makes me feel bad. It makes me feel like a greedy pig. I didn't even open my eyes to look at you. I just kept plowing into you until I came."
"Yeah, I wondered why you kept your eyes closed," I said.
"I knew if I looked at you laying there, I would shoot, and it would be done. I'm really sorry for that; I wanted to make love to you. I don't want to spoil anything we have going on."
"Pete, it's really OK. Honestly, I know what you mean about seeing something you really like. I feel maybe I was greedy, too. I used your body and your strength and pictured you plowing into me as my way to get off. Don't get me wrong, you worked me the way I like it, but when I saw you tensing up when I saw the sweat building on your body, it got me hot. I came without touching myself. You fucked it right out of me."
"That was some great sex!" he laughed. "Tonight, I want to make up for it and do for you what I said I wanted to."
We went to the bedroom and got undressed and into bed. I laid under him with him between my legs. He kissed me all over my face, and I lay there and enjoyed it. He reached up to the headboard, and I started licking his armpits. He let out a gasp and closed his eyes. I held onto his lats, dug in with my tongue, and licked his pits and arms; I kissed the vein running down his biceps. I licked the cleavage of his chest and gently sucked on his nipples. I worshiped his shoulders with my hands. He ran his fingers through my hair, nibbled on my ears, and lightly kissed all over my chin. His beard tickled when he kissed me around my neck. Occasionally, his cock would swing and hit my leg or push up against my balls. For an hour, this was our foreplay, and we never even worked on our cocks. He pushed up onto his knees and reached over to the nightstand. He put some lube on both of us and placed the tip of his cock at my hole.
"I already know I'm not going to last long tonight," he said apologetically.
And with that and in one easy slide, he entered me. It hurt, but not as much as the night before. He was steel hard again, and I could feel every vein in his cock as he entered me. After a few easy strokes, he picked up the pace. His cock was getting thicker and harder every few minutes. But tonight, he was looking at me, and he looked lusty. He had me by the ankles, and I knew if we continued this way, he would be shooting in me within a few minutes. I spread my legs far apart and reached up and encouraged him to come down and lay on top of me while he drilled me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and slowed his thrusts. I was in ecstasy. I had a good-looking stud on top of me, inside me, and I was feeling a tightening in my gut. I reached around his shoulders to hug him, and I couldn't get my hands to touch each other. It didn't matter. He got down as close to me as possible without interrupting his thrusts. He was kissing me all over my face, and I was holding him tightly next to me. I could feel my balls draw up; it was coming, and I wasn't going to be able to stop it. I clamped down hard on Pete and began violently shooting load between us. Pete gasped and really thickened up. He almost got stuck in me as he began unloading into my waiting ass. I was still shooting loud as he started coming in me.
"You did it again," he exclaimed out of breath.
"Mmmm -- I tend to disagree with that statement, sir; YOU did it again!"
He chuckled. "Doesn't it hurt?"
"What, your rock-hard cock? Yes, it hurts at first, but it feels pretty good within a few minutes, and then there isn't any pain, just lust."
He laughed again. "You're amazing."
I looked at him, "You know you are pretty amazing yourself."
We fell asleep in a sweaty mess. I snuggled up close to Pete and fell blissfully asleep.
It was Friday morning, and I was dreading it. In 12 hours, Pete would be on a plane home to his uncaring wife. On the other hand, he seemed pretty chipper when he woke up. It wasn't annoying, but it felt out of place.
"Good morning," he stretched and then put his hands back on me.
"Morning! Sleep well?" I asked
"Better than I have for as long as I can remember."
We grabbed a quick shower together and made plans to meet at my cafe at noon.
I was early and found us a table. Pete arrived and was looking as fabulous as usual. I smiled weakly when he approached the table.
"When are you coming back?" I blurted out the minute he sat down.
"Hi there, I'm good, how about you?" he replied.
I sighed and apologized.
"I don't like this any more than you do," he said to me gently. He looked around and grabbed my hand. "If I had it my way, I'd just move here. To answer your question, I'll be back in two weeks. And see if you can get off from work next Friday night."
He reached down in his briefcase, pulled out a little box, and handed it to me. I looked at him.
"Open it -- I promise you won't be embarrassed," he smirked at me.
It was a brand-new cellphone. I smiled. "Here, let me call it to make sure it's working." Pete took his phone and dialed my number. "DAD calling" popped up on the screen. I turned a few shades of red and laughed.
"Good, I must have gotten it right." He smiled at me.
We both ordered salads for lunch and then headed out.
"Hey, I wanted to go to the corner and get something. We can leave my scooter here."
We got to the corner and walked into my school's merchandise shop. I had to look around for what I wanted to get because they often got products and changed the shop layout almost daily. I held up a t-shirt and asked the salesperson if they had this in an athletic cut. He shook his head, "the best you could do is go a size smaller." Pete came over to see what I was holding. It was a navy blue silky t-shirt with the words emblazoned in team colors: "SWIM TEAM DAD." He just chuckled at me. And then I looked a little more and found the same shirt with "SWIM TEAM SON" on it. I went to the register to pay. Pete pulled out his wallet.
"No, Dad, I got this." He nodded and put his wallet back. I handed him his bag, and I took mine. He draped his arm over my shoulders as we walked out.
It was a quiet ride to the airport. Pete insisted that I go with him. He said he'd give me cab fare to get my scooter. He held my hand the whole way out of town to the little airport. I was biting my lower lip as we went to the waiting area for his flight home. He had his strong arm around me, the only thing that stopped me from bawling my eyes out in front of everyone. Then, they invited their first-class passengers to begin boarding.
"Well, Champ, that's me," Pete told me as calmly as he could muster. I looked up at him; he also seemed to be on the verge of crying.
"It's going to be all right," he whispered as he hugged me tightly.
I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head on his chest. He bent down and kissed my head.
"Hopefully, I'll see you in a week." He reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. "I almost forgot." He handed me two brand new $100 bills. "That should get you back to your scooter."
"I almost forgot something, too." I reached in my backpack and pulled out my green Speedos wrapped in some tissue paper. Pete looked at me, confused.
"They smell like me from the other day. You don't happen to have yours, do you?"
"You're in luck Champ, I do," and he reached into his briefcase and pulled them out, looked around discretely and shoved them into my hand.
I hugged him again with my face beside his and whispered, "I already miss you."
Then he started down the runway, and when he got to the end, he turned around and waved at me.
I sat down. I was weak. And I was trying like hell to not cry.