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, including barebacking. 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 -- Part 2
I took a cab back to the cafe after Pete had left because I was scheduled to work. I didn't have the mental energy to take the shift, but there wasn't anyone around who would do it, so I did my best and tried to pull myself together and carry on. I went to the restroom and had a quick cry, rinsed my face with cold water, and decided to put on my new shirt from the corner. It would remind me of Pete and our fantastic week together.
My first table of the night remarked on the shirt. "So, does your Dad have one, too, with DAD on it?"
"He does," I answered succinctly.
"Does he look as good as you do in it?"
"Yes, he. . ." my voice trailed off because, at the doorway of the bar, I saw Pete walking in with his t-shirt on as well. He had a jacket on, but it was open, and it proudly showed his superb torso and the incredible fit of the shirt.
"Dad," I nearly yelled. He walked over to me, and I hugged him and lay my head on his chest. He kissed me on the top of my head.
"Son," he smiled at me.
My snooty customer looked up at Pete and asked in a breathless voice, "That's your dad?"
"That's him. Didn't I tell you he looked as good?"
Pete took off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair a few tables away. He looked ripped, and his arms stretched the shirt sleeves' cuffs.
My customer sucked in his breath and muttered, "Damn." He looked at me, then back at Pete.
Pete only smiled. "When you get a second, son, bring me my usual."
"Sure thing."
The customer trying to be cocky just shut up and walked over to the bar to be served.
"What are you doing here?" I asked Pete when I returned with his Modelo.
"We were about to take off, and I convinced the captain to let me off. I called my wife and said I was delayed and would be home Monday. Tell me you're not working all weekend, please."
"Actually, I'm off tomorrow and Sunday. No class, no practice, no homework."
Pete's eyes actually twinkled. "I knew I made the right decision."
We got busy that evening at the bar, and I worked until 11. Pete had left when things were getting hectic and promised to come get me when I called.
"Hey stud," he said when I called, "are you ready?"
"I will be by the time you get here, but I was thinking, what can I do with my scooter?"
"Don't worry, I'll get that fixed. Make sure you give me the key."
I had my side work completed in no time, and Pete was standing in the bar lobby waiting for me -- still showing off his Dad shirt.
"I hope you weren't waiting long. I had a last-minute issue come up." I was beaming.
"No, I just got here, and they're taking your scooter somewhere safe. Can I have the key?"
He stepped outside, gave my key to some guy, and spoke to him for a minute.
When Pete returned, I noticed a few snowflakes on his jacket.
"It's snowing?" I asked him.
"We're supposed to get a good little storm."
"Oh," I said casually, "well, it can do whatever outside, as long as I'm snuggled up next to you. Were you able to get the same room at the hotel?"
"Uh, no. But it's OK, I found something better. The only thing is it's about 20 minutes from town. Do you have everything you need -- clothes, underwear?" He paused a moment, "Oh wait -- you don't need those," he laughed.
I laughed with him.
"C'mon, let's go," he said, "you'll have everything you need when we get there."
He draped his arm comfortably over my shoulders, and we went out into the cold. I looked around for his rental car.
"Where's the car?" I asked
"They didn't have that one, so I got us a truck for the weekend."
Sitting in front of us was a perfectly shiny black new Range Rover with just a few flakes of snow on it. He went to the passenger side door and opened it for me. I hopped in, and before he closed the door, he leaned in and kissed me passionately.
"I'm glad I'm here," he said, holding my face with his right hand.
We took off, and the snow began getting pretty heavy at times. He was a considerate and careful driver, considering he was from New York. He didn't speed and paid attention to where he was going. The hills were winding, and the snow had begun to collect on some of the lesser-used parts of the road. But within 20 minutes, we had arrived at a little ski resort with fancy log cabins and the smell of burning wood.
We pulled in front of a nice two-story cabin with big uncovered windows and a roaring fire in the fireplace. It was ritzy and had a pretty amber glow with a few lights on. We walked in, and I needed a minute to take it all in. Preserved deer heads with antlers lined the huge main entryway. There was a warmth that wasn't hot, and potpourri was pushing out the scent of burning leaves and patchouli from somewhere. The furniture was large and in proportion to the size of the rooms. The fireplace was gorgeous and glowing perfectly, considering the weather beginning outside.
Pete brought a bag from the truck and asked if I liked it.
"This is great," I reached over to hug and hold him and took a minute to look at the fire together.
"I'm beat," he said, pulling away, "do you want a shower?"
"Only if you're there with me."
He smiled, "I wouldn't be anywhere else." Then he cupped my head in his hand and pulled me close to him. It felt magical: lightly falling snow outside, a lovely weekend place, and a crackling fire. With Pete there, it was what I pictured to be perfection.
The bedroom was enormous! It was tastefully decorated for a man. The bed was huge, but it looked comfortable. Fortunately, there were wood blinds on the bedroom window, and Pete went over and closed them. He undressed me and then himself. He threw me down on the bed. I was shocked, and I think my face showed it. Here was this sweet guy I'd spent the week with, and now he's throwing me around. He sensed that he had startled me but did or said nothing.
He pulled my legs onto his chest, expertly reached into his carry-on bag, and extracted the lube bottle. He was quick with slicking us up and put his cock at my hole. No warm-up, no fingering except to deliver the lube. With one solid, painful shove, he was into me. I gasped, whimpered, and shivered. He was hard; in fact, I think if I compared him with teammates or other guys nearer my age, he won, hands down, as the most rigid, consistently solid cock ever. He told me to open my eyes. I did, and he looked into mine, pulled back, and shoved in again. Ripples of painful lust went over my body in shock waves. I looked him straight in his eyes as he assaulted my hole. I took it like the Champ I wanted to be for him.
Soon, though, his thrusts became smoother, more fluid, and silkier. He was a vision of pure masculinity. His nipples were erect, his abs were tight and defined, his arms were bulging, and that big vein running down each was pumping blood to the hands holding my legs next to his torso. He continued to look me in the eye and started beading sweat on his chest, his cannonball shoulders, and his forehead. His face began twitching, and his lips were pursing and opening.
He changed his rhythm and became more aggressive with his movements. I could feel his cock grazing my prostate with each stroke, and it lit that fire in me. I began writhing, panting, and moaning. I stretched my hands above my head towards the other side of the bed. Pete quickened his pace, and within 30 seconds, we were having separate but one orgasm. He hit my prostate with his first volley of come, which coincided with spilling my own load all over myself. I kept my eyes on my hunk, and I could see absolute amazement and pride in what he had achieved. Hands above my head, not touching myself, I had emptied my balls onto my abs and chest, except for the first spit that landed somewhere over my head. Near the end of his unloading, he whimpered like a hurt dog.
"Fuck, how do you do that?" Pete asked me as he pulled my legs apart and kissed me.
Another surprise to hear my sweet guy say, "fuck."
"You did it, Dad." He cocked an eyebrow at me.
"I mean, you did it. When you told me to open my eyes, you gave me the perfect vision of the kind of guy I like having sex with - you. And you have some moves making me doubt that you haven't done this before."
He laughed. "Really?
"No. I believe you! But, fuck, you are great."
We showered, and he got into bed naked. I asked Pete to face the other way, and he complied but kept asking why. I got up and went across the room, turned on one of the sconces, opened the blinds, and then turned off the nightstand lights. Then I crawled into bed naked and put my arm at his waist under his arm.
"You're not the only one who wants to touch a nice body," I said to him as I got so very comfortably close to his body. I kissed him on the ear.
"I love. . ." he started, "I love this."
"I do, too," I murmured sleepily.
The wind kicked up outside, and we could hear ice crystals hitting the windows as we drifted off to sleep, me holding the most wonderful man I had ever met. The snow fell so silently and heavily that night, but we didn't care; it was just me and him.
We woke up the following day, and it had snowed! Two feet of snow had blanketed everything.
Pete looked out the window and said, "Oh fuck!"
I looked at him. "I've heard you use that word a lot more lately. I'm not used to it from you. Am I becoming a bad influence on you?"
He apologized. "No, you're not! I'm a whole lot freer when I'm around you. Someone might think I'm a sailor."
"Come here," I was still lying in bed. "Don't change anything, please." I fondled his hairless balls.
"Later for that," he chuckled, "I need a full refill."
I laughed at him.
We got up, dressed, and went down to the living room. The final embers were just glowing bits of charcoal in the fireplace. He knelt down and started trying to mend the fire. Even in a crouched position, he looked great. Soon, he had flames burning again.
"Hey, go to the kitchen; there's something in there for you."
I trotted off to see what was waiting for me.
He came in as I started to open the big box. "I didn't think you'd be warm enough, so I got you a winter jacket." He picked it up and helped me into it. It was expensive and looked like something from Cabela's. He buttoned me up and tugged on the collar. I reached into the pockets and turned around to model it for him. He nodded his approval. I felt a card-type paper in there and pulled it out.
"Pete!!! This was $450!. What the f--" I cleared my throat, "what the hell?"
He chuckled. "You don't think you're worth it?"
My mouth fell open. "How are you going to explain all this to . . . ?"
He laughed at me, not in a mean way, "Champ, I've told you she and I haven't done anything together in years. I have my own bank accounts, credit cards, and lines of credit. And it's all delivered to the office. You don't need to worry about any of that."
"But. . ." I began
"Let me quote you -- 'What else can you dream up why I wouldn't or shouldn't want to?'"
The sting made me laugh. "OK," I nodded thoughtfully, "I guess you got me there."
"I think I do. Checkmate." He pulled me toward him and hugged me, kissing my face.
"I don't think all my clothing combined cost me more than $450," I said into his chest.
"Well, hang on, bud, it's about to go up big time."
"You're spoiling me," I admired his contented look.
"You deserve it, and I want to," he kissed me. "C'mon, let's go get breakfast. Will you wear those tight jeans that show off your ass?"
I laughed at him, balled up my hand into a fist, and pretended to give him a punch on his chin.
He grabbed my fist and kissed it.
We had an excellent breakfast at the lodge and decided to try skiing.
"It's been years since I skied," Pete told me, "would you think I'm a wus to go on the intermediate slope?"
"I don't ever think I'd picture you as a wus, but this would be my first time."
"Really? You want to go the beginner's slope instead?"
"If you show me the basics, I bet I could get it," I said confidently.
"OK, let's go beginner for me to teach you the ropes, then we'll go over to the intermediate. I know you can pick it up quickly."
After an hour of training, I felt ready to tackle the next challenge.
The hills were longer and steeper than the beginner's slope, but we both did well and had a blast together. We spent a few hours skiing, and it was probably the funnest time, apart from sex, that I had with Pete.
"Anything else you want to do today, Champ?" Pete asked me as he put his arm on my shoulders.
"Of course there is," I smiled up at him.
"You really did mean that 10-minute thing, didn't you?" He laughed.
"Actually, anything you want to do would be great," I enthused, "I never had so much fun in my life, I don't think. It's been great, this whole week. And I will get myself straight about you going home this time. You have to, I don't like it, but I guess what I think about the most is that you won't come back."
He stopped and turned towards me, "I won't do that to you, no matter what. My wife and I are past reconciliation. I'm not completely free, but I have enough freedom to continue seeing you for as long as we want to see each other. Maybe I'll end up with a broken heart, but I will enjoy being with you whenever we're together."
I looked up at him, beaming.
"Let's go get some coffee. I want to talk to you about my next semester plans. I need some help or maybe some guidance. My parents don't even understand why I'm in college, so I can't really turn to them. Maybe you can help me think through some of this?"
"I'd be glad to; then maybe we can have an early dinner. I bet I'll be fully refilled by the time dinner is over." He laughed and hugged me.
We returned to the cabin after coffee and a long discussion about my second-year college plans. He challenged my decisions, not in a parental way but more logically, asking a lot of what-ifs about my studies and how it would put me in the direction I wanted for a career. I felt very guided and on a sound track for my education.
We sat on the couch at the cabin before a newly tended fire, and I laid my head on his chest and napped for a few minutes. His big arm wrapped around me, and I think he even dozed off for a few minutes with his head resting on mine.
"I want to dress for dinner," he said, waking me up. I shook the sleepiness from my head, and we went to the bedroom to change.
We both got dressed to the nines in our new matching suits. I did choose a different colored shirt and tie. Even our shoes were the same. He gave me a dab of his cologne. He turned me around to face the mirror with him, standing behind me, helping me fix my tie. When he finished, he put his hands on my shoulders and said, "I'm proud of you. Not that I wasn't before, but you're smart, gorgeous, and sweet. No one could ask for anything more." I blushed.
"No, don't do that. You have to have the confidence to go with all those attributes. Look at me. Repeat it. I'm smart." I looked at his face in the mirror. "Don't look away -- you are smart." I held his eyes.
"I'm gorgeous," he continued, "good -- stay with me -- and I'm sweet." I blinked.
"Again -- you're sweet," I winced.
"C'mon, I'm trying hard here to get you up where you should be," he implored me.
"You're sweet." I looked him in his eyes and then took a deep breath. "Now, the even harder part, I want you to say it without blinking or making faces and say it like you mean it. You can do it!"
I inhaled even deeper this time and looked at him in the mirror. He wrapped his arms around my chest and put his chin on my shoulder.
"I'm smart, gorgeous, and sweet," I steadily enunciated, looking him dead in the eyes.
He kissed me lightly and said, "We're getting somewhere. C'mon, let's go eat; you must be starving like me."
He was right; I was starving.
We arrived at the lodge in the immaculate Range Rover and entered the dining room's lobby doors. It was late afternoon, and we were wearing matching sunglasses. A few people waiting briefly stopped their conversations and looked up at us, and I even heard a gasp or two.
Pete looked at me and said, "See?"
The hostesses were staring like they had seen rockstars, and they were vying with each other to see who would take us to our table. Pete removed his sunglasses and said, "I'd like a table for my son and me." I followed his lead and took my shades off, too. The poor girls nearly fainted.
I decided to follow Pete's lead in almost everything for dinner. He was used to being treated like a rockstar, and I wasn't, so I figured I could learn something from him. The waiter's jaw dropped when he approached our table. Any pretense fell away when he saw both of us. He suddenly seemed to have lost his bearings.
I wanted to be slick and order a cocktail when Pete did. He stopped that in its tracks, "No, my son will have a Diet Coke instead." He looked at me furtively. I tried to order my steak medium, and Pete looked at the waiter and said, "Make it like mine, rare." I looked at Pete, questioning that. The waiter looked back and forth at each of us incredulously. He stammered repeating our orders, and then left.
Pete looked over at me and laughed. "Don't be a dick, you're not drinking."
I looked back at him, shocked, "I'm not being a dick. But tell me -- do you think I'll like a rare steak?"
"Actually, you'll never order medium again after you taste this one."
We spent dinner talking about Pete's work, which interested me. He told me that he would be spending a lot of time this summer in our little town working with the government and the college with a bunch of legal stuff. I didn't quite comprehend it all, but the college was spending a large amount of federal money for upgrades and improvements, and he had to be the auditor/intermediary/counselor. It sounded interesting for the most part, but I didn't follow the complexity of the project.
I paid attention to him while he spoke, and I know my eyes sparkled when he tried to explain it all to me. I was the perfect dinner companion. I laughed when I was supposed to laugh. I asked pertinent questions, and I nodded my head when it made sense. Pete, for his part, was animated, talking about work, and excited that I took such an interest.
"You know what?" Pete asked me, driving back to the cabin. "You are smart, gorgeous, and sweet. You handled yourself perfectly tonight at dinner. You make me so proud."
I grabbed his hand, rubbed my cheek, and kissed his knuckles.
We returned to the cabin with a nice blaze of fire, got undressed and into semi-matching pajamas, and went downstairs to the fireplace. Pete went over to the bar and poured himself a scotch. He came back, clinking the ice in the tumbler. He took a swig and handed me the glass. "Here, try it," he said.
I took a smaller sip and found it pleasant, even if it burnt going all the way down.
"I think you're right," I said, handing him back the glass. "I don't need to drink right now, and yes, I'll admit it: rare steak is much better than medium."
He sat beside me and put his arm around my shoulders.
"I've had an excellent day with you," I looked at him smiling.
"I can't remember a time in the past five, maybe ten, years that I've had more fun," he leaned in and kissed me on the forehead. I leaned back onto his arm and sat silently, watching the fire.
"C'mon," he grabbed my hand after about a half hour at the fireplace, "I'm filled up again."
I let out a squeal. Pete laughed and walked with me to the bedroom, holding hands.
He took off my pajamas and admired my body when fully undressed, "You look great either with or without clothes."
When he started taking off his bottoms, I reached over to his naked chest and began caressing it with my hands. He moaned and finished slipping off his bottoms. He was almost fully erect when the pajamas hit the floor. I reached down and grabbed it, feeling it pulse in my hand. I held him back with my other hand on his chest. "Lay down. I have something for you tonight," I said, forcing him to get on the bed. I stood between his open legs and moved forward.
"Whoa, Champ, I don't know about that yet," Pete looked up at me, concerned.
"You don't?" I teased.
"Until a few days ago, I hadn't had sex with anyone except my wife, and it was with you. But this, I'm not sure I'm ready for you to lay some pipe in me."
"Be honest, what makes you afraid of this the most?" I was still holding my ground, not moving back.
He thought a minute and said, "The pain?"
"Yeah, it hurts at first, no lie. But you eventually get used to it." I didn't move.
"And then when you come, what do you do with it?" He sounded a little panicked.
"You've been with me every time you came in me, what have I done?"
"You didn't do anything."
"Right -- so there's nothing to worry about there," I said, looking him straight in the eyes, not budging.
"But, but. . ." he started.
I dropped to my knees, pushed his legs back a little to expose his virgin hole, and began lapping at it with my tongue.
"Uhhhhn," I heard him gasp, "Buddy, what are you doing down there--" he moaned again. I licked and grunted and ate his hole like I was having a buffet. I might not get to fuck him, but I would show him something else we could do.
"Are you sure--" he moaned like a pornstar, "Ahhhhhhgggg."
I kept digging my fingers into his ass muscles and twisting my head to get a different angle on his hole. My mustache grazed the sweet spot under his balls, and he let out little puffs of air, groaned, and panted. He was beginning to lose himself. He was dropping large beads of precum onto his perfect abs. I decided to try a little more with him and secretly got my index finger wet. I pushed at his bud. He gasped loudly, and I slipped my digit in and fondled his prostate. He went wild. He began bucking, shrieking, and begging, "Stop -- don't -- stop," then I found his button, and he kept repeating, "Don't stop! Don't stop!" I had him whimpering like a lost puppy.
I stood up. He looked at me lustily. "Be gentle," he barely whispered.
I fumbled in the nightstand drawer for the lube and covered my cock with it. I placed the tip of my cock at his hole and pushed. He reflexively pushed back towards me. "Ughhhhhhh, that's hurting."
"Just stay still -- don't move -- just wait out the pain."
His usually strong demeanor was quaking now. He panted, he puffed, he sighed. "It's too much!"
"You're bigger than me, stud. You can do this. Now breathe -- no more panting."
He actively worked on breathing normally. I could see he was adjusting, trying to accommodate me. I pushed in a little more, and he drew in his breath.
"C'mon, we're almost there."
He took one more deep breath, and I bottomed out into him.
"Ahhhhh....." he groaned. I twitched inside of him. This sexy man was on my cock, and I was laying in some serious precum.
I pulled back and began descending into him again. He twitched a few times, but I bottomed out without much interference. "That's it, we got this." I coached him.
I pulled back and started laying my pipe in him, and he was doing good. He tossed his head back and forth, then I adjusted myself and let the curve of my dick help us. I made sure to tease his prostate with every stroke. That really helped bring him into this, and he reached up and held the sides of my ribs with his masculine hands. He began purring and roughly took his cock in his right hand and began pumping it with his fist. I was taking it easy and making sure to hit his prostate every time, but watching this muscle guy under me start to enjoy the ecstasy of bottoming got me worked up. I started throwing him long, deep strokes, and he opened his mouth but couldn't speak. He looked at me, begging wanton lust in his eyes with a tortured - I'm going to come any second -- look.
"Let it go, stud, you're gorgeous. I'm filling you," I panted and began unloading into him. He let out one last guttural groan and started coming all over himself. I spasmed, ran my hands over his hairy quadriceps, and shot the most glorious load of my life into him. I was grunting and shaking as I pumped shot after shot into his tight, virgin hole. He was underneath me, letting out wails of delight. He was coated in his own sperm, a puddle glistening between his abs lines.
I slowly withdrew. He drew in his breath and let out a long, loud sigh.
"Oh my god," he said as I laid down next to him. "That was -- that was . . ."
"Fucking awesome," I finished his sentence.
"Yes, it fucking was." he sighed.
I woke the following day with Pete adoring me and running his fingers through my hair, his thumb on my hairline massaging my temple. "Good morning, stud!" He said to me he was absolutely radiant. I blushed, smiled, yawned, and snuggled up closer to him.
"Good morning, gorgeous!" I rested my free arm on his waist and grabbed his muscular ass. I yawned again, "how are you doing down here?"
Pete chuckled and kissed me on the top of my head. I buried my nose in his chest cleavage and dozed back off to sleep with his hand cupping the back of my head and falling asleep, too.
It was a lazy Sunday morning, and we finally woke around nine.
"What's on tap today?" he asked me while we were showering.
"I'm sort of missing the pool," I said, "could we do some laps?"
"150 again?" Pete looked at me sideways.
"Nah, as many or as few as we want," I smiled at him.
"Wasn't last night enough?" Pete laughed and wrapped his arms around my waist.
"Really? How was that?" I asked him.
"It wasn't something I ever pictured myself doing. But I'm glad it was with you. You're, excuse the term, fucking fantastic."
I laughed at him, "You are, too!"
We grabbed a quick bite to eat and stopped by the front desk to ask about directions to the pool.
"Can I help you?" the front desk clerk asked disinterestedly, then looked up from her paperwork. "I'm sorry; how can we help you?" His face brightened when she looked both of us over.
"My dad and I wondered if the pool was open and how to get there," I smiled at her.
She looked over at Pete, then back to me, "Yes, it opens at 10, and um, well, you, um, pull out of here the circle turn left, and it's a half mile on the left." She was flustered.
"Thank you," Pete said and winked at her. She smiled weakly.
"You're getting used to calling me dad," Pete remarked as we headed to the pool. "You know I'm not trying to be your dad."
"It makes our trips and outings easier," I said, looking forward. "We're both so handsome they can't help but believe it."
He laughed hard at me and said, "That's right, son!"
"Damn it! I forgot my trunks." I said.
"Me too. Let's stop by the gift shop and see if they have anything," Pete said as we turned into the lot. "It's right next door."
We popped into the gift shop and started browsing the swimsuits. The only Speedos we liked that had a matching pair were maroon. I held it up for Pete to look at. He shook his head, "Neither of us has the tan for that."
The sales clerk overheard Pete and stepped up. "Actually, sir, if I may -- you and your son need matching suits? What color would you prefer?" Pete looked at me and said, "Well, we have green and blue, right? Red wouldn't look good either without a tan. What other colors does this style come in?"
"Black and navy," the clerk replied. Pete looked back over to me. "Navy?"
"Sure," I replied.
"One navy medium, one navy large." Pete looked back to the sales clerk.
"Sir, if I can, you are no large. Do you need extra room in front?"
I snickered and turned away. Pete blushed and replied, "That's usually why I get a large."
"We've got contoured cut in this style. You might like it, and it will fit you better.
"OK, then, let's try that," Pete looked over at me. I had tears from laughing and was trying to control myself.
"Stop that. Let's just get these and get to the pool."
The sales clerk went in back, and when he returned, he took us to the counter. "Excuse me, but may I suggest some cover shorts. Not everyone can pull off this suit here like you two can, and we offer shorts to cover up from locker room to pool without needing a dripping towel on their waists."
Pete looked over to me with a question on his face.
"You know, sir," I interjected, "that might be a good idea. Should we try them on, or could you recommend the size based on our physiques?"
"You, young man, would do well in a medium. And your dad would do in a medium and a half."
I raised an eyebrow, and Pete told the clerk, "Grab us something matching in blue, and would you mind cutting the tags off, please."
Pete charged our purchase to the cabin, and we headed to the locker room.
"Really? Cover shorts?" Pete huffed.
"Hey, there has to be a reason he suggested them," I tried soothing him.
We both changed in a barren corner of the locker room. I held up the Speedos next to each other, and the waist was the same, but the front of Pete's suit had room for his more ample package. He looked at me, wondering what would happen when he put them on. I was mesmerized; the sales clerk was correct, a medium fit Pete great, and the extra contour gave him some space so his package wasn't so confined. His ass looked absolutely perfect in his new suit, but the front gave him some concern.
"But doesn't this enhance me up here?" Pete asked me, looking in the mirror.
"They look great on you. I wouldn't worry that much about it. You are bigger up there than most guys, but the overall fit is perfect for your body."
"You look smashing as usual in your new suit," Pete said as he stopped looking at himself. Here are your 'cover shorts,' " he said as he dangled them out to me.
Pete slipped into his shorts, and even my jaw dropped. The cut was fantastic, and they covered him well but let a little of his ass cheeks hang out. "Whoa," he said, "that's a little short."
"You have the body to pull it off, now stop being old-fashioned and enjoy it. Where's your confidence?"
He grinned at me. "Touche!" But he turned around, looked at his cheeks hanging out in the mirror again, and shook his head.
Two guys, probably Pete's age, entered the locker room as we headed to the pool in our new swimsuits and shorts. We puffed out our chests and stood straighter. Their jaws dropped, and they quit talking to each other and simply stared at us as we smiled and breezed on past. We opened the locker room door and had to walk to the pool through a small but relatively busy lobby. Conversations stopped, and there were a few muffled oohs and ahhs.
"I'm going to get you for this, but before I forget, I added you to my Bally's membership." Pete smiled calmly as we headed for the door to the pool.
A few dozen women and a few stray husbands were sitting around the pool, mainly watching their kids, when the door opened, and we walked through. There was another awkward silence, and all the adult's eyes followed us to some lounge chairs at the pool's far end. We made it to the chairs, and the talking resumed. Whispers, looks, and repeat looks kept swirling at us. I took off my cover shorts and heard a few gasps. "C'mon, just get it over with," I said, looking down at Pete, who took some comfort by sitting on the lounge chair.
He stood up and, with one fluid motion, took off his shorts, too. A few good-natured guys with their wives stood up, clapped, and hooted. Pete turned beet red.
"C'mon, Dad," I yelled, "let's go!" I made a big splash as I jumped into the pool's deep end.
Once we were in the water, the attention fell away, and we set out to do 80 laps in an hour. Pete was as impressive as the first time I swam with him. We knocked out 90 in an hour. Both of us found a place to stand, and we put our arms on the edge of the pool, just showing our chests and arms and the top two ridges of our abs.
"Good job, dad. We did it!" I lifted my hand to give him a high five. A guy in his 30s, in good but not as great shape as us, came up from behind. "You two are an inspiration. My wife and I watched the whole time you did laps, and we're both amazed. What, are you both on some sort of swim team?"
"That's my dad, and we were just banging out laps together," I said proudly.
The guy looked at Pete's hard pecs and muscular arms leaning on the pool's ledge and then back at me. "Wow! You two did great!"
"Thank you," Pete replied and winked at him. Then he looked at me, "Are you ready to head back to the cabin, son?"
"Sure, let's get a bite to eat, I'm starving!" I looked over at him. Our admirer went back to his pretty wife. "We made a show arriving. Let's give 'em something to talk about tonight."
"Eh, why not?" Pete said, and we went to the shallow end of the pool and used the steps to get out. By now, the pool area had cleared significantly, but we both drew just as much attention as getting into the pool. Our rugged, muscular bodies were dripping wet, our clinging suits were wet, and we had to walk the pool length to get our towels. We could have just as quickly lifted ourselves out of the water.
"Let's give him something to think about while he's nailing his wife tonight," I whispered to Pete as we approached our admirer. We both tensed our muscles up and smiled at him. Our guy's jaw dropped. He looked at us meekly. We got to our towels and began drying off. There was more body than a towel, but we got relatively dry and put on our shorts. We strutted back to the locker room, ignoring the looks we were getting. Both of us just held a wrapped towel in our hands. We got to the lobby, and it felt chillier, so we both put them over our shoulders as we made our way to the locker room.
How the locker room was empty was anyone's guess. We grabbed two warmer dry towels and went over to our lockers. Pete sat down on the bench and looked up at me. "I ought to be furious with you."
"What on earth for? Because you look so damned good that it got everyone's attention?" I shot back.
He stood up and cupped the back of my head with his hand. The locker room door opened, and someone came in. Pete dropped his hand and turned around, "Here, can you get that spot on my back I can't reach?"
"Sure, Dad," I said and grabbed the towel and dried up and down his spine. We looked over and noticed our admirer had entered the locker room staring at us. Pete lifted up a flexed arm and waved at him. The guy turned red and started visibly panting. Pete turned back around and removed his shorts, being sure to give our visitor a show. He bent over and showed his beautifully sculpted ass. Then he slowly untied his drawstring and pulled down his wet Speedos. He turned back around, showing off his semi-erect cock and hairless balls. He grabbed a towel, dried off his groin, and opened the upper locker where his stuff was stowed. That covered Pete's face and upper body, but Pete managed to make his cock throb without actually getting a hard-on. I looked at our buddy, and he sat on the bench, staring -- apparently enjoying the show. When he noticed I was watching him, he hurriedly turned away.
The show was over, and Pete and I dressed, walked over to the towel bin, and tossed our used towels in. Pete's admirer was sitting on the bench, likely trying not to drool. Pete extended his hand, "Thanks again for the compliment, bud. I'm taking my son to lunch."
Shaken, the guy stood up, shook Pete's hand, and nodded. That's about the best he could manage. I bet he tried to figure out how Pete and I were father and son the rest of the day. Pete draped his arm over my shoulders, and we went out into the cold.
"I want to discuss something with you during lunch. Feel like heading there now?"
"Can we change? I'm still damp, and everything is clinging the wrong way." I asked.
"What are your plans for the summer?" Pete asked after we had ordered lunch.
"Funny you ask. I had been giving that some thought before we met. I decided to take one class this summer to knock out some of the menial credits I need. I have to work but don't want to rent a room for a few months. I don't want all my pay going to rent. There's no real reason to work if I net zero after it's all over. I would probably spend the summer at home if I didn't, but I now hate it there. I don't really think I'd ever go back there except to visit."
"You know I got the preliminary plans for my work down here?"
"Oh, do they seem reasonable?" I asked.
"Here's the thing: they have me starting mid-April through mid-September. And because the work is so expansive, they're paying a stipend for housing. They are even flying me home every other weekend. Why don't you take two classes, tell your job you're going home for the summer and come stay with me? You know I won't be using those airline tickets."
"But what about your daughters?" I asked.
"They both love Stamford. They say they're both working this summer and taking classes. I already got the bill, so I know that's true. I can use those tickets and visit them instead of going home."
"What about your wife? Wouldn't that cause some problem?"
"I seriously doubt it. It would be a relief. I know it is for me. I've been in the spare room for nearly a decade. I sleep better in hotels than I do in my own home."
"That makes me pity you now," I said.
"Don't. I'm over it, and like I said, I enjoy being on the road."
"Alright, how about one class, and I work two days a week at the bar?"
"Why do you want to work there so much? You want spending cash?"
"I have a few regular bills and could make nearly $400 on two weekly shifts."
"How about I give you $500 weekly and pay your bills?" Pete countered.
I raised my eyebrows at that. Then the waiter appeared with our lunches.
I wasn't confrontational or angry, "You know what that sounds like?"
Pete pondered it for a moment.
"No, no, no -- I'm sorry. I guess it does sound like that, doesn't it? Wow, I really am sorry. It's not anything like that at all. Never entered my mind. I thought it was more like giving you options. But you do know it's mainly because I don't want to be separated from you. You also know it won't be like a vacation, right? We'll go to bed together, wake up together, and almost always have dinner together, but it won't be much like this past week."
"How about this? I want to feel useful to you outside the bedroom. I'll accept the pay, but I need to work for it. It doesn't have to be full-time, but it has to fit around my class. But I want you to make me, I don't know -- executive assistant or some other resume-building title. No menial work either. I want a challenge."
"You really are something else, you know that?" Pete looked at me with a smile.
"You know I couldn't accept otherwise?" I asked him. "I don't think I could ever be kept. It wouldn't satisfy me. It's not even a pride thing. It's about being an equal in some way with you."
"I'm so proud of you. And you're smarter than you give yourself credit for."
"And gorgeous and sweet," I added, smiling.
Pete lifted his glass of tea, tipped it like a toast at me, and said, "And gorgeous and sweet."
"Oh, by the way," he added, "when is spring break? Any plans for that?"
"I think it's the end of February, and I hadn't thought much about it. Why?"
"How about we go to Mexico for the week? We need to find a use for those shorts." Pete started laughing.
"On one condition," I said, my eyes sparkling, "You get more of those Speedos for the trip that shows you off so well?"
"Did you like those?" he asked me.
"Everyone who saw you liked those! I'm proud of you!"
We wrapped up our day early, skipped dinner, and returned to the cabin.
"I want to sit here with you forever," I said as we sat at the fire, Pete's strong arm wrapped around me and rubbing my five o'clock shadow. I sighed and lay my head down on him, tucked up close, enjoying him holding me.
"I'm going to miss you this week," Pete said as he stroked my face, sometimes tickling my chin.
"I'm going to miss you, too," I said, slipping my arm behind the spot behind his back.
"You've been really good to me," I hugged him. "I still don't know why, and I've enjoyed being together this week."
"We're going to have a lot of good time together this year. You're among the smartest, sweetest, and most gorgeous people I know. I don't care that we have a big age difference, and I've thought about why, too. It's nothing perverse. I've been around people with one or two but not all three of those qualities before, and you need to cherish it when you find someone who does. I can see you growing into a good man. I wanted to be part of that."
We watched the fire for an hour, discussing the upcoming summer and Mexico.
"Did you want to go upstairs?" Pete asked me.
"Oh, it's so comfortable with you here right now. I don't know," I teased him.
"I think I can get you more comfortable upstairs," he taunted me.
I laughed, got up, put my hand out, and pulled him from the couch.
"I know you can!" and kissed him hard.
We undressed slowly, kissing, admiring each other's bodies, touching, and caressing.
Pete lay down, and I sat next to him on the edge of the bed. I reached for the nightstand drawer and pulled out the lube. I slowly and deliberately greased my partner's growing cock. I stood up and massaged some on and in my hole. Then I straddled him. Pete's eyes were twinkling. He rubbed my upper abs and chest with his big hands as I descended on him. He enjoyed the time I took going down and lightly grabbed my hips. I had taken him fully and waited out the initial pain. I bent down, and he reached up, and we kissed.
"You feel good, buddy!" Pete was panting, and his cock was bouncing inside me.
"You're feeling great," I moaned and worked my way back up his hardness.
I whinnied and went down again. He grabbed tighter at my waist and looked me straight in the eyes. I started to adjust and began riding Pete in nice, easy, and tight strokes. I know he couldn't contain his composure as my ass took his raging cock. He moaned and tensed up. I slowed my strokes and rode easier, not clamping down on him. He looked at me surprised, but he didn't force anything. I became more deliberate, and Pete was slowly but thoroughly rubbing all of my upper body, enjoying my muscles. I laid a hand on his upper abs and pinched at one of his erect nipples. I was moaning like a whore as my cock hardened into steel. Pete instinctively knew to grab my hips and hold on to me. I was slick. He was laying a steady stream of precum in me. I rode him even harder as I felt his cock becoming rigid. He was panting and expertly holding me on him. Pete took ownership of my hips and pulled me down on him as he purposefully pushed his hardness against my prostate.
"Yes, yes, yes," I began to shriek. "Fuck me, Pete. Give me your load." My guy was in perfect sync with me and immediately let out a loud groan and filled my guts with his load. I started shooting all over him, moaning and running my fingers through my hair, closing my eyes, and seeing stars. He held me as the last spurts of orgasm slowly dribbled out of me. I slowly dismounted Pete and lay next to his panting torso.
"Wow! I sighed. "I'm going to miss this, too." I looked over at Pete. He was catatonic.
"Hey, what's up," I asked him quietly.
"I wish it was April already," he shook his head, bringing himself back, placing the balls of his hand over his eyes.
I draped my arm over his broad chest, "Me too," I kissed him lightly at the base of his armpit.
Pete left Monday afternoon. I did a lot better with our departure than the first time. I hugged him tight right before he boarded the plane. He kissed me a long time on the top of my head.
"I'll see you Friday," he said.
"I can't wait," I whispered back.
He walked down the boarding ramp, looking back a few times and smiled at me.
I felt sad and exhilarated, emotionally drained and charged simultaneously.
--
Typically, when I end my stories about a remarkable man or hookup, I wrap up with how things went for us afterward. Pete is too special to wrap up in a sentence or two, and you can look for him to return throughout the series.
Also, any feedback is always appreciated. While I might not be able to incorporate every idea into my stories, I'm listening.