maturedadsandmen:

What Dad’s been doing in his spare time since he retired from the force after 30 years a few months ago.  I thought he’d just take up golf like every other man does when he retires.

Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon him one morning while browsing through one of my favorite gay cam sites after I’d taken two “I deserve a break” days off of work.

I sat there, enraptured, as I watched him as he sat on his bed, not a stitch of clothing on his perfectly chiseled body except his favorite hat that he always wore when he ran, went to the gym, and practically everywhere else.  The way he looked directly at me through the computer as he sat there, legs spread, jacking his cock.  He knew exactly how to play to the camera…when to give a naughty, sexy smile…when to wink…when to smirk.  It was as if Dad had been doing this his whole life.  He was practically a fuckin’ professional jack-off artist!

Before long, my shorts were crumpled-up at my feet and I was furiously jacking my own aching dick right along with him.  I’d always looked up to and admired him.  Hell, the man was practically my hero when I was growing up.  I wanted to be just like him.  Even now, I spent four days a week at the gym after work, trying to make my body look like his.  If I was honest with myself, it wasn’t just hero worship.  When I’d discovered masturbation in my early teens, he’d been who I fantasized about most of the time.  As I fell in line with the typical peer pressure to be like everyone else my age, I chalked all of that up to how much I admired him, not a symptom of who I really was.  Still yet, even as I began dating girls for show in high school, the only pants I really wanted to get into were his.

Now, with my high school years over a dozen years behind me, it felt good to finally be honest with myself, my family, and my friends.  My jack-off fantasies about Dad continued…and had settled into a harmless crush.  I had to admit it stung a little during that six-month period of time after he and my mother divorced that he seemed to be dating a different woman every week.  Thankfully, I hadn’t let my sexual desire for him interfere with our relationship.  He and I were still as close as we’d always been…practically like best friends.  In fact, everyone who knew us said we acted more like brothers than father and son.  We told each other everything.  Or, I THOUGHT we told each other everything.  I never had a clue about THIS!

After several minutes of watching him stroke for the camera and having to bring myself back from the brink of cumming, I heard him say in a low, husky growl, “I’m about to cum, fellas!”  Not even five seconds later, he was spilling his seed all over his chest and stomach.  That was all I needed to see to send my own load into the palm of my hand.  Easily the biggest load I’d shot in ages!

Later that day, I went by the house to spend time with Dad and, for the first time in my whole life, I felt awkward around him.  I don’t think he picked up on it, but it was so weird for me.  I felt a mixture of guilty and incredibly horny.  Honestly, I wanted to bring up the cam show he’d put on earlier that day, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  I mean, how does one even start that conversation?  “So, Dad…  That was quite a load you shot this morning!”

The next morning, I found myself stationed at my computer at the same time as the morning before.  I logged into the site and did a search for his user name, “excop63.”  Sure enough, he was online.  When I brought up his camera feed, there he was, sprawled-out on his bed, putting on another expert show like he’d been doing it for years.

It was then that I got an idea.  I knew I shouldn’t do it.  But the pull of my desire wouldn’t listen to my conscience.  I pulled out my phone and began taking pictures:  my bare chest flexing and not flexing; my hard cock sticking out of my boxers…and then without my boxers on; a pic of my ass; plus a few other assorted pics.  Then, I created an actual account on the site, instead of the guest account I’d always used, using the name “dadsbestfriend,” and uploaded my pics.  Then, I brought Dad’s cam feed back up.

As I sat there, watching him and stroking, I began typing messages to him using the chat feature.  He wasn’t responding to people by typing.  I was thankful for that.  I didn’t want to see his hands anywhere but on his cock and the rest of his body.  I got a thrill when, after I’d typed out “God damn, excop, you’re a fuckin’ hottie.  Your body needs my tongue and mouth on it on a daily basis, stud!” he responded by practically moaning, “Yeeeaaaaahhh!  Thank you, dadsbest.”  Fuck, this was such a horny scene!

By the time I saw his body convulse and his load spurt all over himself, I knew I was hooked on watching him.  For the next few weeks, I religiously watched him every morning, taking the risk to watch him and type messages to him in the chat room while I was at work.  It was well worth the risk to see him jack off.  Plus, when he saw that my user name had become a regular viewer, he started treating me like some sort of VIP, talking dirty directly to me as he lay on his bed, jacking.  We’d become online buddies.  He would even pester me from time to time about going on camera so we could watch each other.  It was a strangely satisfying relationship…and yet not at all.  I had gotten to the point where I wanted to move our online flirtation into the real world.  But, I wasn’t sure that could ever happen.  It was one thing to jack off for me, unwittingly.  But would he be up for the real thing?  I wasn’t even sure he was into guys.  Dad played the part pretty well on camera.  But on these jack-off sites, straight guys jack off for what they know will be a mixed audience all the time.  The lines are very blurred.  I couldn’t bring myself to approach Dad about this in real life without knowing whether or not he’d be open to the idea.  If I blindly made a move on him and it ruined how close he and I were, I don’t think I could take it.

Luckily, an opportunity presented itself one morning a couple weeks later.  Dad was on camera – in his trusty hat  with a little bit of scruff on his face – in a different location this time…sitting at his desk in his den.  I was surprised when I got a private message from him, asking if I wanted to go into a private chat room.  It was a dream come true!  I wouldn’t have to share him with the rest of the people who normally flocked to watch him.  I immediately agreed.  So, for nearly an hour, we had a conversation while he stroked himself:  me typing and him verbally.

At one point, he looked into his PC cam, like he was looking directly into my soul.  “So, Dadsbestfriend.  We’ve been online buds for a few months now.  I’ve always wondered about your user name.  Does it just mean you’re into DILFs?  Or, is there anything going on with you and your actual dad?”

“Nothing between me and my dad.  Just into DILFs,” I typed.  Then, feeling bold, I added, “But I would be honored if he wanted to fool around with me.  My dad’s the best man I know.  And a total stud, to boot!”

He chuckled.  “I figured you had a thing for your dad.”

“Gay or not, don’t most sons on some level?” I typed back.

He smirked into the camera.  “I guess they do.  And for most dads, the feeling’s probably mutual.”  Those words hit me like a bolt of lightning.  Was he telling his me, his online buddy, that he secretly wanted to fuck around with me?  I was so stunned, that I didn’t type back a response right away.  He must’ve taken my silence as permission to keep talking.  “You ever tried seeing if he’d be willing to fool around with you, Dadsbest?”

“No.  Too afraid of how he’d react when I was younger.  And now, we’re more like best friends than father and son.  Don’t want to ruin our relationship if he’s not into it.”

“Too bad,” he said back to me.  “You and I have become friends.  I always want my friends to have what makes them happy.  And I think having your dad would make you very happy.”

It was surreal that we were having this conversation about each other without him even knowing it was me that he was talking to.  “Yeah.  It would.”  I typed back to him.  Then, before he could respond, I added, “What about you?  You have any kids?”

I was heading into dangerous waters with this line of questioning.  But, what he said earlier about most dads having a thing for their sons was still ringing in my ears.  I had to know if he was including himself in that group.

A genuine smile came on his face.  “Yeah.  I got one son.  He’s a good kid.  Didn’t follow in my footsteps, career-wise.  Decided to go into education, instead.  He’s now one of the youngest high school principals the local school district here has ever had.  He keeps in good shape just like me, though.  He’s done a lot of good things with his life.  I’m a proud father!”

I was touched that he would say all of that.  Dad wasn’t one of those emotionally closed-off guys with me.  I knew he
was proud of me.  But, it was something else entirely to hear him
rattle off my virtues
to someone he thought was a complete stranger.  Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of guilt about what I’d been doing the past few months washed over me.  I’d used deceit and outright lying to gain his confidence online.  Now that things were getting personal, I worried about how he would feel if he ever found out dadsbestfriend was me.  Of course, my horniness and my need to know how he felt about me in his heart of hearts overruled my worries.  With my fingers trembling slightly, I typed into my work computer the question that had been burning in my mind for more than 20 years.  “Sounds like you think very highly of him.  You ever thought about fooling around with him sexually…showing him how proud he makes you?”

For a few seconds he didn’t answer.  He grinned, looked up at the ceiling and sighed.  Boy, did he know how to keep a guy in suspense.  Finally, Dad looked at the camera and grabbed his hard cock to give it a tug.  “Yeah.  I’ve thought about it every so often.”  Then, after a quick chuckle, he corrected himself.  “Or, at least once a day.”

I wish a mirror had been nearby in my office so I could see how broad a smile was on my face.  In fact, I felt like doing a happy dance.  But, I didn’t.  One, I didn’t want any of the secretaries to walk by and wonder what I was doing.  Two, I needed to keep our conversation going.  “I’ll throw your question from earlier back at you,” I typed hastily.  “You ever tried anything with him?”  Of course, I knew the answer was no.  But I had to keep pretending I was a stranger.

“Nah,” he said quickly and nonchalantly.  “The funny thing is, my boy’s actually gay.  But, I’m not sure he’d want to screw around with his crusty, old man.“

“Okay.  First of all,” I started typing.  “you’re NOT crusty.  You’re a grade-A slab of stud DILF beef.  Second, you just agreed with me a few minutes ago when I said most sons have a thing for their dad.  He might think about you just as often as you think about him.“

“I can’t take that chance, dude.  You of all people should understand that, given how you feel about your own dad.  It took a lot of work for my boy and I to keep our relationship close and intact after his mother and I divorced.  I can’t put that in jeopardy.”

What I said to him next was crucial.  I could see myself and my sexy father at the end of the tunnel, fucking each others brains out.  It was within my reach.  But, I had to be careful with how i advised him as “dadsbestfriend,” or that fantasy would never become a reality.  “I think you owe it to yourself and your son to at least give it a shot.  I’m sure you can figure out a way to feel it out and, if you get the vibe that he’s not interested, play it off as something else.”

Again, he took a few moment to look at the ceiling and the wall, in deep thought, before he said anything back to me.  It was the longest few moments of my life!  Finally, he broke his silence.  “Okay.  I’ll make a deal with you, then,” he turned to look into the camera, not missing a beat, still stroking himself.  “Today’s Friday.  Sometime this weekend, you put the moves on your dad and I’ll put the moves on my son.  On Monday morning, we’ll meet back here and compare notes.  What do you say?”  I was floored!  Was he actually serious or was he just saying this to placate “dadsbestfriend”?  Was this really about to happen?  “Hello?  Dadsbest?  Do we have a deal, bud?”

Holy shit!  Did we EVER have a deal!  “You got it, man!” I typed back to him.

He looked directly into the camera and gave me a sexy grin.  “Awesome!  Listen, bud…  I know I usually give you a cumshot, but I’ve got an appointment I have to get ready for.  I’ll give you an extra special load on Monday after you tell me all about how hot in bed your dad was this weekend.”

“That’s a promise I’ll make sure you keep,” I typed back.  “Talk to you later, excop.  Good luck with your son this weekend.”

“You too, bud!  Later!”  Then his cam feed went black.

For a few minutes, I sat at my desk, feeling like my breath had been taken away.  I couldn’t believe the conversation we’d just had…and what that might mean for the future.  I glanced over at my cell phone on my desk, halfway expecting it to ring right away.  Of course, it didn’t.  I knew I was gonna be on pins & needles for the rest of the day, waiting for him to get in touch with me.  That’s why it was a relief when Carla knocked on my office door and stuck her head in.  “Pete, the contractors are here to give an estimate about those repairs in the boys and girls gym locker rooms.”

Thank God!  Something to take my mind off of what had just happened.  Between getting wrapped up with the contractors and dealing with a couple of other issues in the school, I didn’t make it back to my desk for about two hours.  In fact, I’d just sat down when my cell phone rang.  It was Dad!  My heart leapt in my chest.  “Hey!” I said, answering the call, trying not to sound overeager.  “What’s going on, Dad?”

“Not much, buddy.  Not much…”  He actually sounded a little nervous.  Uncharacteristic for my usually-confident father.  “Listen, I was thinking…  You got any plans tonight?”

I couldn’t stop the grin from forming on my face.  He was actually doing it…following through with our conversation online earlier.  “No.  Not yet.  Why?”

“Well, like I said…  I was thinking…  Maybe you’d wanna come over tonight and have dinner with me.  I’ll cook!”

I couldn’t let the opportunity pass by to rib him a little.  “I don’t know, Dad.  I haven’t had Chef Boyardee since I was ten.”

He roared with laughter, hopefully easing his nerves a little.  “You prick!  I’m not going to fix pasta out of a can!  You know damn well I’m a pretty good cook.  I’ll fix us something nice.  We’ll pop open a bottle of wine.”

“Wine?” I asked sarcastically, forgetting myself.  Good-naturedly teasing Dad came as second nature.  But I didn’t want to shame him into putting off our night together.

“Or beer.  Whatever…  As long as we get to spend time together” he said, trying to play it off.

“Wine will be great, Dad.  I’d love it.  In fact, I’ll swing by the store on my way over and bring a bottle!” I said, hopefully mopping up my mistake.

“Good!  Now, you’re sure you don’t have any plans?  I don’t want you to feel like you gotta hang out with your old man if you got something better going on.”

“Dad, relax.  There’s nowhere I’d rather be tonight than having dinner and wine with you.  What time should I be there?”

“Is seven good for you?”

“It’s perfect,” I said, involuntarily throwing a lilt in my voice.

“Great.  See you then, son!”

“Okay.  See you then!”

“Hey, Son…?” he said, obviously hoping to catch me before I ended the call on my end.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“I’m really looking forward to this tonight.”

“Me too, Dad!”

“Good.  See you later on, then.”

“I can’t wait.  Bye, Dad.”

“Bye!”

If the huge smile on my face wasn’t an indicator of how excited and happy I was, the hard cock in my slacks definitely gave away how I felt about what might be about to happen tonight.  The next five hours until seven o’clock would probably be the longest five hours I’ve ever experienced.  But it would all be worth it, I hoped.

No matter how this dinner tonight turned out, there was no way I was ever reveal to Dad who “dadsbestfriend” really is.  In fact, if he and I actually turned into a “thing” – fuck bud, FWB, or something more serious – I was already planning on having “dadsbestfriend” gradually fade away into the ether of the internet.  After all, I couldn’t carry on a sexual relationship with the man at the same time I was lying to him on a webcam show website.  But I still knew if things happened tonight the way I wanted them to, “excop63” and “dadsbestfriend” would have a whole lot to talk about come Monday morning.

I love this setup.

graybeards:

This one is long, but I enjoyed it 🙂

Every time Uncle Matt wrapped his arm around my shoulder and whispered something in my ear, I grinned. Whether he was getting me to skip school for a baseball game, sneaking me that video game my parents said was too violent, or just letting me have a sip of his beer, he always made sure I had fun.

Mom and dad didn’t like me moving downtown for school—too much crime in Dupont Circle, they said—but I was ecstatic to share a zip code with Matt. Even better, they wanted me to be able to focus on my studies so they rented me a one-bedroom place on my own. Matt and his wife, Jessica, came to help dad move me in when the day came.

As we finished up, Matt said, “You know, Jessica’s going out of town for a few days on Thursday. Why don’t you come over and keep me company for dinner?”

I nodded and smiled as dad said, “That’s a great idea.” He turned to Matt and said, “You’re in charge of making sure he’s safe around here.”

Rolling my eyes, I said, “Dad, it’s Dupont, not Anacostia.”

Dad turned to me with a stern face and scolded, “It’s a city, James. You have to be careful.”

Matt intervened, putting his hand on dad’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of your boy. Don’t worry.”

Keep reading

drakestories:

Joe strutted over to the window, watching the wild thunderstorm in action, the one that had blown out the power. He had the body of a linebacker, already, standing at 6’2" and packing on at least 190 pounds of beefy muscle on the frame of a rising senior. I watched as he stood and looked outside, lazily scratching his bare abdomen. His boxer shorts looked like he was rapidly outgrowing them, since they were snug on the waist and the legs seemed ridiculously short as they rode up his swollen quad muscle.

But it was hot, too hot to wear clothes. I myself sat on the ratty 60s-style sofa in my briefs.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered. “At least it might break the heat.”

Here we were, stuck in a cinder block dorm at a small college in the middle of the plains. No modern conveniences, no AC, just the brutal summer July heat and full days of a football camp for elite high school athletes.

That would be me. Alex Griffin, a tall lanky guy at 6’6" but lately I’d hit a real growth spurt and had started bulking up, catching up. I was sure I’d grow more too, but that wasn’t what brought me to this godforsaken place for a chance of a lifetime. That was my height, my coordination, my precision and the power of my throwing arm. As starting quarterback for two years now, I’d been responsible for putting Campbell High on the Indiana state football map.

Joe McKinney was similarly a rising star, only on defense. We hit it off immediately, being a couple of the only Midwestern guys here at the camp. Joe went to one of those prep schools in Ohio known for churning out football talent.

I knew better than to lust after other guys openly, on my team or here at camp. I normally kept that compartmentalized, but after a few days of being too sore and tired from practice to even get a boner, I found my libido fighting a comeback. So I silently, surreptitiously appraised my roomie’s nude form as he came back and plopped on the couch next to me.

Apparently I wasn’t the only guy fighting his libido. Even in the light filtering through the room from outside I could see that Joe was throwing hard in his boxers. He made no bones about it either, gripping it and massaging the shaft.

“Nothing to do here but throw wood, huh, Griff?” He leaned back and I swear I could see every pop of his abdomen muscle. I’d been sprouting some hairs on my chest, but McKinney was still naturally smooth chested, though he had a full bush and his chestnut brown hair filled his armpits.

It was like his words gave me permission to grow erect in my briefs. My dick filled out quickly, with a vengeance. “You got it,” I agreed cautiously. “This place is boring as shit.”

Joe laughed. I liked his laugh, it was deep-throated but playful at the same time. “They don’t want you thinking about anything but football 24-7.” We’d had a particularly tough practice that day.

“It’s working,” I said. “Though right now all I’m thinking about is the sack Veldez got on me. I’m gonna be feeling that tomorrow.”

Joe nodded. He’d been beaten all week, too, and we had another week coming up. Though I guess as a defensive player he was used to taking this hits. We sat silently for a minute, looking out at the rain and wondering if the power was gonna come back on.

I don’t know that Joe ever stopped massaging his crotch but I certainly noticed when he reached in his fly and hauled his prick out. It was a thick piece, matching his body type, and cut. Immediately his fist wrapped around it and started jerking it. “Damn, I’m horny,” he announced. “I’m afraid I can’t wait.” He spit into his hand for some extra lubrication then resumed his masturbation, right in front of me. “You gonna join me, Griff?”

Part of me was nervous this was some sort of baiting, or a joke. But Joe didn’t seem to be joking or doing much other than jacking his dick. I took a quick intake of breath and did it, lowering my briefs to reveal my now throbbing bone.

“Nice,” McKinney muttered in approval. “You tall guys always seem to have long ones. You’re uncut, too.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. It was weird to be talking so candidly about my dick with this fellow athlete, but Joe had this laid-back jock way about him that made it seem like natural male bonding. So I went along with it, gripping my shaft and starting my steady, pleasurable jerking.

“Cool,” Joe said, the linebacker now clearly getting more into his own self-pleasuring session. “I always wondered what it would be like to have my ‘skin.”

“I don’t know anything else,” I admitted. I’m not sure why my parents didn’t circumcise me, and I always felt a little self=conscious being in the minority in the locker room.

“Yeah, I guess so,” the guy replied, leaning his beefy body back a bit and spreading his legs further, so the boxer rode up even higher on his legs. “Still, the foreskin makes your cock look even longer. Not that you need it.”

“Thanks,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say so I didn’t say anything. I could compliment him on his thick prick or his magnificent bulky body, but I didn’t think that would go over so well.

We jerked off in unison, and the sexual intensity was building as we worked ourselves closer to our nut. I’m wasn’t there yet, just getting closer, when Joe spoke up again.

“Which coach you think has the biggest one?”

“What?” His question caught me off guard.

“Of the coaches here, which one you think has the biggest dong?”

I though a second. “I dunno. Barrett, I guess.” Tom Barrett was the QB coach, and a seriously good looking dude just on the closer side of 40. When I wasn’t cursing him under my breath, I’d been crushing out on him all week.

McKinney shook his head no. “You’re just saying that cause you’re a quarterback. Jenkins definitely has a bigger cock. Longer and fatter too.” Dwayne Jenkins was a former all-pro defensive back, a hulking African-American athlete who if anything was even more handsome in middle age, with a mischievous smile he’d often give between barking orders.

“Maybe,” I conceded. It was all conjecture anyway, so why argue?

My reply seemed to satisfy Joe, who was now stroking faster, adding more spit. The rain had stopped and the clouds were clearing, so the late evening sun lit up the room more and more. I could see my roommate more clearly, and he watched me too. Both of us, openly jacking off.

“What would you do with it?” Joe now grunted more than asked.

“With what?” My own voice was strained as I held off coming. I wanted this to last.

“With Barrett’s dick?”

Again, I wondered if the dude was taunting me or sussing out if I was a queer. But here he was stroking and initiating the sex talk. What the hell?

“Touch it,” I ventured.

“Duh,” he said. “What else? Or you stop at handjobs?”

This conversation wasn’t heading where I had expected it, but I was entering a real horny zone, turned on like hell. I blurted out, “I’d suck him, too.” I blushed as I said it but it was a relief to articulate my desires out loud.

And Joe wasn’t repulsed in the least. He stroked faster. “Hot, man. You know what I’d do with Jenkins’ cock?” he asked.

“What?”

“I’d lift my big linebacker legs up to the ceiling and let him slip that giant black dong right in me.”

“Fuck!” I cried. The mental image was too much and all of a sudden my load was spraying my chest. It was an intense orgasm, probably the most intense I’d experienced to that point, and my body went into a series of aftershocks that seemed to last a minute or two.

“Nice, Griff,” McKinney growled. “That turns you on, huh, man? Getting all up into my tight hole.” His big body writhed on the couch as he got closer. Joe really got into it, I’ll give him that. “Aw man, I’m coming too…”

I watched in awe as heavy spurts of his defensive jock seed spurted and landed on his block pecs and conditioned abs.

“Whoo buddy,” he said at last picking up his used T-shirt to wipe off. I followed suit.

“I knew you were a cool guy,” Joe finally said, tucking his soft dick back in his boxers.

“Thanks,” I said. It was strange to have such an intense sexual moment with Joe then go back to being jock buddies.

We shot the breeze for a while and talked about our programs back home, our career plans, what we liked and didn’t like about football camp. The power came back on but it was getting dark out, and after a long tiring day, and the sexual release we were both ready to crash.

We got in our twin beds, the sort of dorm bed that meant my feet stuck out several inches. It was still hot and humid, and I didn’t need any covers. At least the fan was back on. I flicked out the light at last.

“Good night, Joe,” I said.

“Good night, Alex,” he replied, using my first name for a change. Then he added after a minute. “You know Griff, I don’t know if you’re a betting man, but I’d bet 20 bucks that you’re better hung than Barrett.” Not even waiting for me to say anything, he added, “yeah, you’re bigger than Coach B, all right.”

You don’t need a pic to illustrate Bill’s work – like a thick hardon, the words stand on their own.

br0b8:

Lately I go to this Christian coffee shop to write, so I’ll be writing
scenes about dad/son four-ways (that’s two dad/son couples commingling)
while milquetoasty-hot guys with big butts in their khaki pants study
their bibles at the table next to mine. Just doing my part for society, I
guess.

Keep fighting the good fight, bro!

Story Time on Nifty: “In the High Corn”

The next Story Time Classic to make its Nifty debut is “In the High Corn”. For two farmboy brothers, an impending absence makes the heart grow fonder, and other parts respond too. One for all you bromantics out there. Check it out here on Nifty: http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/in-the-high-corn

And see the story in its original format, with the pic that inspired it, here on the blog.

underthemattressblog:

drakestories:

underthemattressblog:

I saw this handsome classic frat bro the other day, and immediately @drakestories came to mind. Anything you can do with this one, bro?

It had been three years now and Phil Murphy looks more grown up now, having put some muscle on his frame and grown a beard. But as I made my way through the happy hour that filling up the bar, I recognized him immediately, like we were back in the Pi Kapp house in Columbus. Same cute preppy looks combined with a laidback easygoing vibe, same perfectly proportioned back tapering down to a bubble butt his shorts couldn’t hide, same sculpted thighs and calves from intramural soccer games.

“The Murph!” I growled, clapping his now bulkier shoulder and pulling up the empty bar stool he’d reserved for me. “How you doing bro? You just get in?”

Phil stood up, a huge smile on his face and gave me a big bear hug. “Horse!” he greeted reprising my fraternity nickname. “Awesome to see you bro.” Then he pulled back and ran his hands along the lapel of my suit jacket.

“Looking sharp man!” he said. “You must be doing real well here in Chicago.”

He sat down and I joined him. “Eh, it’s not all that. Starter salary’s a bitch, even in finance. But,” I lowered my voice so my crudeness wouldn’t carry, “a suit gets you so much pussy in this town it’s insane.”

Phil laughed with a conspiratorial grin. “And dude tail?”

Yeah, that’s the bond Phil and I had. I was his big brother in the house, had guided him through pledging and his freshman year. We hit it off immediately, more than usual even for a big and his pledge, it actually felt like Phil and I were actual brothers sometime. It was February that year before we both realized we really loved man sex on the side. A lot. We hooked up constantly that spring before I graduated and moved off to the big city.

For a good natured, clean-cut guy, Murph could be matter of fact about his desires.

I nodded, “Whaddya think?” I teased.

He looked around. A typical beer bar downtown, a mix of businessmen, office women, and tourists. “I think I’d be boned all the time here.”

I ordered my beer and our conversation went back to normal things. Catching up on all things Ohio State and goings on at the house. Murph’s plans after graduation. My job. Life in Chicago. Our plans for a Cubs game later that evening.

Finally we’d had a couple of beers, and there was a lull in our conversation. Phil was looking at me in his goofy way and I suppose I had a goofy look on my face, too. “Fucking great to see you Murph,” I said. “Glad you could visit.”

“Yeah?” he was grinning. “I’m not putting you out? I wasn’t sure I should email.”

“You kidding, you’re always welcome here,” I said. “I know I haven’t been so good about keeping in touch, but we’re tight. Forever brothers. Regardless of what happens.”

He felt touched, and I knew what was weighing on him. That last May weekend in Columbus. Me confessing I was in love with him. Phil getting cold toward me and defensive and saying it was only fucking for him. It made going to Chicago bittersweet. Starting my own life.

I could tell he was thinking something but not saying. Then I felt it. He’d removed his loafer and was now running his toe along my dress sock, under the hem of my trousers. The very sensation made my breath go short and a bone pop rigid in my crotch. That’s how it was with Murph. The slightest thing, the simplest touch could set me off.

“How much time we have to kill before the game?”

“About two hours,” I answered. I knocked back the last inch of beer in my pint glass. “Whaddya say we head back to my place first?”

***

My apartment’s not much, and I had a roommate, but he was gone for the weekend, so Phil and I had the place to ourselves. He’d barely set down his backpack and me my keys when we stepped to one another. Three years almost since we’d kissed and it felt fantastic. We were giddy and excited.

Phil leaned back and ran his hands along my tie. “You look hot in a suit, bro.”

I touched his face, feeling his soft bristles. For a young guy, Murph had a surprisingly full growth of facial hair, perfectly trimmed. “I like the beard,” I said.

That made him smile. “Yeah?” he edged his face toward me again and I relished the soft hairs against my face as we made out.

I finally broke and tugged his hand, pulling back into the apartment. Murph’s eyes were on me, twinkling in lust as he followed my lead. “I wasn’t sure you’d wanna,” he started, “not after last time. Sorry for being a dick.”

“Pi Kapps don’t have to apologize, bro,” I said, reaching down to feel the bone in the crotch of his shorts. My fingers traced it like muscle memory. Sure, I’d been with other guys since Murph, some better hung, too, but none were so perfect in shape. Then, the implications of what Phil was saying sunk in. “You mean you’ve been thinking of hooking up again, Murph?”

He grinned a sexy, naughty grin, and reached forward and started undoing my belt, then unzipping me, reaching in. There was a reason I had the nickname Horse, and Phil was now touching it, pulling out my ten inches. He let out a gasp of approval as he ran his fingers up and down the length. My cock loved it and loved the freedom to bone up unencumbered by the constriction of my briefs or trousers.

Phil gave a couple more tugs and a couple more looks of admiration then squatted in front of me.

I knew immediately that Murph had been practicing in the years since I’d left Ohio State. I won’t say he was bad at sucking dick before, but we were both novices, fumbling our way through sex. Murph was no novice now. He bobbed up and down with perfect suction, as if he were working on drawing as much seed from my nuts. Each motion got him further down my bone. Whereas before he’d only been able to suck on a few inches, now he was working his way to an honest-to-god deep throat.

“Fuck Murph,” I groaned. “You’re awesome bud. Suck me. Suck your Horse.” It was like I was being transported back to my room in the Pi Kapp house, only it was better.

Phil looked up at me, acknowledging our connection with his eyes before he turned back to the work at hand. It was a trip seeing this masculine dude go to town on my cock. Like a porn star performance. And it felt hotter than it looked even. I wasn’t gonna last long.

I tapped Murph’s shoulder through his T-shirt. “Bro, I’m almost there.” Giving him a chance to back off if he wanted. Neither of us had an issue with swallowing seed back in my fraternity days but we knew we had to respect one another. Not treat each other like a bitch.

Phil stayed on and if anything doubled his efforts. My cum was heavy and intense. My knees buckled a little but I maintained balanced, holding onto his shoulders as I rode out my ejaculation.

Murph looked proud as he as he backed off. “Did I do you OK, Horse?” he asked, wiping the spittle and cum dribbles from his beard. He was a little out of breath.

“You fucker,” I growled, hoisting him up for a kiss. “You’ve got some major technique now.”

I could have kissed that guy forever, but I knew he had to be ready to blow himself. “I can’t promise I’m up to your skills, bro,” I said as I got down to give my ex-fraternity brother his turn.

I don’t think Phil was picky though. He seemed excited to have a mouth on his prick. His talk was sexual and encouraging. “Suck that bone, Horse. It’s better than I remembered…. fuck yeah…. You were my first, bro, never gonna forget that….. damn, I’m coming…”

Phil Murphy’s seed is salty with a taste of bitter. I drank it hungrily as it spurted into my mouth.

We plopped down on my couch, our crotches still open as our cocks softened and we recovered our energy.

Phil looked over at me. “Wild seeing you again, bro…. big man in the city.”

I’m not sure I saw myself that way, but it was a trip seeing myself through Phil’s eyes. I nudged his arm. “And you, bro… a senior now. Ruling the roost at the Pi Kapp house, I bet?”

“Ha, that would be Peterson,” he said, referring to a burly classmate of his, who had a natural charm and gift of conversation. “He’d taken more cherries than I can count.”

“Damn, I miss those days,” I sighed.

“Yeah? Not living it up here?” Phil seemed surprised.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I do OK. And it’s awesome that I’ve moved on to a new phase in my life. But I miss the carefree days.”

I looked at my watch. “Whaddya say I change clothes and we can get to Wrigley Field? Maybe grab a bite at the park.”

Murph nodded, “sounds awesome.”

***

I still dated women, but I realized at moments like this that I could never go from fucking to just hanging out like friends. Phil loved catching a game, loved Wrigley field, and we found ourselves pounding back beers like in our fraternity days. Well, I guess Murph hadn’t left his.

So I was buzzed as hell as we made our way back to our neighborhood. Stopping for another drink at the local Irish pub might not have been the best idea, but Phil and I had a lot of catching up to do. Conversation flowed fast and free between us. I could tell he was anxious about life after graduation. He asked me a million questions about Chicago, nightlife, cost of living, apartments, the usual stuff.

“You thinking of moving here, Murph?” I finally asked, half hopefully but playing it off. I found myself toying with emotions I didn’t want to be toying with and the beer wasn’t helping me keep my defenses up.

I kept thinking back to earlier. The sex came so naturally. Surely, Phil was just being his usual horndog self. Maybe that’s what I was doing too. Fuck, I thought as we sat there and the bar and all I could think about was how Phil was handsome as fuck. Perfect even. He seemed to be eyeing me more, like he knew what was on my mind. His hand squeezing my leg as we talked, first to emphasize a point, then it never left, the fingers tracing my hairs, giving me a hardon. That Murph touch.

There was so much I wanted to talk about. To clear the air about that last weekend in Columbus three years ago. But I knew not to break the moment. Some things are best left in the past anyway.

“You ready?” Phil finally asked. It wasn’t even a discussion we were heading back to my place.

“Yep.” I clumsily stood up from the bar stool. Not smashed but definitely drunk.

Phil’s hands clasped my shoulder as we walked the block to my building. “Fucking great to see you brother.”

“You kidding. I’m just pissed you didn’t come to visit earlier.” It was a usual taunt between buddies, but maybe some truth there.

The apartment was dark and quiet and we kissed drunkenly and stripped off our clothes. Phil’s hands on my body, me writhing against his. I’d had the sleeper sofa set up for him to sleep but clearly now we had other plans. Both of us would be in my bed that night.

We made out, in lust but not in a rush. Every touch of Murph’s hands on my body drove me wild.

“So…” I started. “How many cherries you been popping, Murph? Been Peterson a run for his money?”

He growled, “I did about three dudes this year.” His mouth traced up the side of my neck, getting closer to my ear. The bristles made his kisses that much more intense. “I swear the dudes get tighter each year.”

Before, three years ago, we’d never crossed that line. Me fucking Phil or him fucking me. But I’d thought about it, a lot.

“You be up for popping mine, Murph?” I asked, a nervous lump in my throat.

He leaned up and looked into my eyes, happy and eager. “You mean…. you’re still virgin?”

I nodded. God his dick felt so good against mine.

“Oh man, I’d be honored, Horse.”

We made out more fervently this time, until Phil kissed his way down my body, past my crotch, then lifted my legs up and started licking my hole. If his cocksucking skills were amazing, his rimming skills were off the chart. My dick throbbed and twitched on my belly as he made love to my hole. Relaxing me, getting me to want it.

A couple of squirts of lube on his prick and Murph as on me, my legs on his shoulder, his hand pushing his hard dick into position as he looked down on me and slowly entered. The very sight of him above me, combined with my relaxed drunken state, allowed him easy penetration. My first cock inside me, and it felt amazing.

“You want this Horse,” he said excitedly. “You want me to take your cherry.”

“Fuck me,” I moaned in response. His hips powered more cock into me, making me grunt.

“Damn you’re tighter than those freshman pledges,” Murph hissed now slowly pumping my guts with his dick. “So hot.”

He leaned down and we kissed, me excited to be losing my virginity to this guy. Phil was clearly excited too, because he started thrusting into me good and hard now. Soon he had to lean back up to maintain the right angle and pace.

I was surprised by the sensations in my body. Leading me to orgasm but in a different way. With my cock it’s all of a sudden when I reach the tipping point and I’m spewing. With my ass I realized it was a steady buildup of pleasure, like a dam, until orgasm came. My cum was heavy, too, my semen hosing down my torso in multiple spurts.

Murph was there, too, fucking into me faster now. “I’m gonna cum, Horse. Goddamn!” His body in orgasm was a beautiful sight to watch. Muscles twitching, neck pulsing, his face screwing into a half-pained expression. I remembered how wonderful and briny Murph’s cum tasted earlier and I relished the thought that I was getting injected with a bunch of the brothers that I swallowed that afternoon.

“Fuck!” Phil finally said as he pulled out and crawled on top of me. It felt right like that, kissing and caressing each other’s bodies. So different than before a fuck, this was more leisurely, more appreciative.

We took turns rinsing off and when we got back we were both drained and zonked from the long day and the beer and the sex. “Ready for bed, bro?” I asked.

He gave me a quick kiss. “Yah.”

Oh fuck, it’s even better than I hoped for. You’ve done it again, bro!

undietales:

It had been in the lobby of his building this time. CJ had been good for most the week, but when he entered the lobby of his building and the doorman—the fucking hot one with the red in his beard and the mischevious eyes—called him over, CJ half-knew he was fucked. 

“Mr. Hooper, I have something for you. A package,” the doorman said. 

CJ could only imagine the package that the hot doorman had for him. It was the imagining that did him in. 

It didn’t help that CJ was wearing tight briefs that hugged his hardon so nicely, so snugly. CJ shifted awkwardly. The doorman looked him up and down, frankly appraising, as he took the package from the desk and handed it over to CJ, who took it and gave his thanks. 

“No problem,” the cute doorman said, and licked his lips. 

CJ might have made it if he hadn’t licked his lips. But he did, and CJ didn’t make it. He shot his load in his tight—too tight—briefs. It was a relief and an embarrassment. He hoped that the doorman didn’t notice. He hoped that the doorman did. 

Either way, the doorman—whose name CJ learned was Eric and filed away the information for his private fantasies—made polite conversation until CJ felt his load leaking into the front of his cargo shorts and cut things short.

In the elevator CJ chastised himself. Again. Oh well, he had to do laundry anyway.