(Author's note: This one will have multiple parts and I promise it won't be the emotionally draining read that my freshman effort here, "A Life Well-Loved", was. It will focus on sex, rooted in my sexual history as usual, all loosely strung together in a flimsy but hopefully heartwarming coming of age tale. Enjoy!)
Part 1:
I walked into Trax at a little after 10 p.m. and surveyed the revelers. It was one of their bear nights and the eye candy was appropriately round and furry. Several bear, chub and daddy chasers scoped me out as I made my way to the bar to order a beer. I've never been much for chasers, but it felt nice to be appreciated.
"Hi, Matt! The usual?" the bartender yelled over the din, reaching across the bar for a handshake.
"Yessir!" I yelled back as I took his hand.
It was a busy night. He drew my beer and started my tab, then made his best guess at whose hand had raised next to get his attention. We usually chatted at that point, but this time I just smiled and motioned him to go on about his business.
A guy vacated the stool to my left so I sat and turned out to people watch. I saw mostly guys in their twenties and thirties on the dance floor grinding to the thump of the techno beat, but there were enough silver bears and other daddies peppered throughout the crowd that I didn't feel out of place. Bart spotted me from across the room and began making his way over.
We've been regular fuck buddies for years and, in addition to being a beautiful silver grizzly of a man - wide, thick and round - he's a very generous lover. He's that rare combination of a big man who's well-endowed and skilled at both top and bottom. Being in his early fifties he's maybe ten years my junior and, at about 320, he's got fifty to sixty pounds on me now.
When we met around fifteen years back I was carrying nearly 300 pounds of muscle and belly myself. We were drawn to each other at first sight. Neither of us is interested in the baggage of a relationship but we both want someone we're comfortable with for sleep overs, and with whom we feel safe for the satisfaction of bare sex when they happen.
I guess 'fuck buddies' is really too casual for what has developed between us. We sometimes might not see other for a month but, with the length of our history, we know each other as well as any lovers.
We just each respect the other's privacy and don't infringe on his freedom to think with his dick when the urge strikes, as long as the play is safe outside of whatever it is we have. In fact, our acknowledgment and acceptance of our primal male urges is part of what attracts us to each other.
"Muscles!" he beamed as he pressed his belly to mine for one of his comforting bear hugs.
"Hey, Bart!" I said reciprocating.
"So who looks fuckable out there tonight?" he asked as he backed up to the bar beside me and draped a big arm around my shoulders.
"Haven't had time to suss that out yet. Who's looking good to you?" I asked leaning back into his grasp.
"That big ol' burly boy on the corner of the dance floor...with the twink crawling all over him," he said pointing with the hand in which he held his beer, "Kind of looks like a young you."
I saw the fellow he was pointing at. He was at most half my age, but his beard did look remarkably similar to mine and, at about six feet tall with a prominent belly, his thick arms, barrel chest, big shoulders and tree-trunk thighs all suggested that he did indeed push some heavy iron.
By the look of him he was probably a center or guard on his college football team not too many years before. The size and firmness of his impressively round build suggested to me that he was probably still lifting...even heavier than I had, in fact, and he still had a few years out ahead of him. No telling how much more he might grow that impressive muscle mass before time eventually catches up with him. It catches us all.
My cock began to harden as I studied his low center of gravity and sexy moves. He also gave me a momentary sense of longing for those old battles with the barbell.
"Bet there's one muscle where he comes up short next to you, though," Bart said with a wink as he copped a quick feel of my package on the sly, "Whoa! I'm guessing he's caught your eye, too...I saw him first!"
"Looks like you'll have to pry that twink loose," I conceded with a grin.
Just then I got a good look at the twink's face. He seemed familiar. When he finally caught sight of me there was a spark of recognition in his eye as well. He excused himself from his dance partner and began heading our way.
"I think you might have just solved that little problem for me," Bart said with a grin as he departed the bar.
I watched the fresh-faced young man navigate his way toward me through the obstacle course of people, tables and chairs and started running through names of students I'd recently had in hopes his came to me before he arrived. It always embarrassed me when I came up empty at these impromptu reunions.
"Professor Adams?" he asked, blushing since it was obvious he knew full well who I was.
"The same," I said, then to my relief his name suddenly popped in my head, "How are you, Mike?"
"Wow!" he exclaimed, "You remember me!"
"Of course I do...Mike Holder," I confirmed, "It was just over a year ago you were in my class."
"I'm fine, thanks," he said, lighting up at my recognition, "And you?"
"Doing great, thanks."
"Still at the college?"
"Retired last May."
"No way! What are you...like...fifty?"
"No...like...sixty two," I said, smiling as I poked a bit of fun at his youthful vernacular.
"Sure don't look it!" he said as his eyes darted down to my belly and then my crotch before making it back up to my face, "Still...seems kind of young to retire."
"You might be right. I guess time will tell. How's your dad?" I asked.
Having taught chemistry for thirty five years at a little two-year college about an hour out of the city it had begun to happen a lot more often than I liked that offspring of former students showed up on my rolls.
"He's doing great," he said with a smile, "You know he still talks about your class?"
"I hope he says nice things about it," I said and then acknowledged Mike's academic effort by saying, "Ricky was a good student, too, you know."
It wasn't really his dad's academic prowess that stuck out in my memory. This kid had obviously taken after his mother because, even at the young age of his son when I knew him, Ricky Holder was a strapping bear of a man who used to have me concealing my hard-ons in class. Some guys just have a presence that speaks with an air of authority that can belie their age, and he was definitely one of them.
