Not really a story, per se. Just a dad-on-dad sex romp based on a recent encounter with a good friend.
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Friday Night
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It was near the end of a long Friday at work when my phone alerted me that I'd received a text. The ring tone told me exactly who'd sent it; Charles. He's a cherubic little man in his early sixties I've been playmates with for a few years now.
"Fuck me, Daddy!" it read.
I smiled, knowing where I would be spending my weekend as I tapped out my reply.
"Been a tough week. Be ready and waiting."
I pushed send and got a mental image of him lighting up as he read it. He barely breaks five and a half feet in height and weighs over 250 pounds. His hairless skin is youthfully flawless and bright pink. His curvaceous, rotund physique is as soft to the touch as foam rubber inside freshly laundered linen.
He doesn't sport the kind of fat that sags and droops. Rather, his build is the kind that is so gloriously globe shaped you would mistake it for firm until you sink your fingers into it. Everything about him is full and lusciously round, and he exhibits himself with a sense of pride I find admirable and refreshing.
At twelve years his junior I stand a tad over six feet with the round-bellied build of a retired strongman competitor. As such I'm no stranger to men throwing themselves at me for sex only to watch them retreat into fears of inadequacy once we get naked.
I weigh a little over 300 pounds and I'm proud to say they're each one very solid. I worked like a dog for more than thirty years for every ounce of muscular bulk I could pack onto my frame before having to leave my weightlifting endeavors behind, so I make no apology for the way I present to others. But for the life of me I'll never understand why some men act as though they prize nothing more than the opportunity to bed a man like me only to crumple and withdraw when confronted with the reality of their desires.
I've never had to worry about that where Charles is concerned. He's a total bottom who's completely fascinated by our physical differences. The muscular hardness of my round physique is as striking to him as the softness of his is to me, and he's completely uninhibited in the boyish delight he takes in that.
To this day, in spite of the many times he's offered himself up for me to fuck through the years, once we're both naked he gushes over the masculine traits he admires in me as though he's discovering them for the first time. He always starts by straddling my furry thighs as I stretch out and plopping his Rubenesque pinkness down onto my lap to compare our cocks.
To be honest the size of my cock is something I've never given much thought to. Unlike my 'daddy bear' body, which I had to work for, Mother Nature simply handed me that. As for its size, it's always just been the baseline for my perception of what's big or small.
I've played with some that were longer and others that were thicker. It was only after I'd been out for a few years that I began to catch on to how few out-sized it in both dimensions. After nearly thirty years I can still count the number of those on one hand.
The first time Charles set eyes on it he immediately fetched a tape measure to satisfy his curiosity. It came up over seven and a quarter inches in length and broke five and a half inches in circumference at mid-shaft.
"Bruiser of a dick there! You can be proud of that one, alright!" he exclaimed and then broke out in a hardy laugh.
"What?"
"This!" he said as he pressed the end of the tape deep into his plush pad.
His barely broke four inches in length and didn't quite reach the four inch mark in girth. His little balls resided in a sac so tightly drawn, even at their most relaxed, as to almost not show when he was standing. He hefted mine up so that they spilled over the heel of his hand.
"A real man's man you are," he sighed with a lusty grin as he dropped them to knead his chubby little fingers in the curly hair on my chest.
And that's been the tone of our interaction for more than ten years now. I eyed my office clock and grew antsy, shifting to accommodate my hardening cock as I looked forward to being showered in his energetic affections. Taking care of the last detail, I cleared my desk and then headed home to put a bag together.
I arrived at his nice but modest home and let myself in. I still don't know how he came into his money but he's never had to work in all the time I've known him.
"Honey! I'm home!" I jested.
"Hi, Barry! Still flushing myself out," I heard him say from the bath in his bedroom, "Fix us a couple of drinks and I'll be right with you."
I set my bag down, kicked my loafers off and then went to the bar in his den to do as he'd said, mixing us two scotches with soda. Setting his drink on the table at his end of the sofa, I sat on the middle cushion and took my first sip. Soon he appeared in the doorway, naked as the day he was born, and jokingly struck a Marilyn Monroe type pose.
There's nothing feminine about him, in spite of his near total lack of body hair and curvaceous plumpness. His fatherly face is quite masculine and handsome; almost perfectly round with nice, full lips that turn up at the corners of his mouth even when he isn't smiling. He's bald as an eagle except for the little ring of hair that outlines his ears and the nape of his almost non-existent neck. His ears stick out just enough to give him the most boyishly cute look of innocence.
I looked at the pucker that hid his uncut 'boy cock', residing deep in his pad above the contour you could only recognize as his balls by the distinct line that runs down the middle of it. I laughed and patted the cushion between me and his drink. He sauntered over on his thick, shapely legs and dropped in next to me.
The true size of his balls only briefly revealed itself when he bent slightly forward before doing so. I slipped my right arm around his soft shoulder and pulled him into my grasp, lightly teasing the ear nearer to me with my tongue.
"I've missed you," he giggled as he settled in.
"Same here, handsome," I whispered as I let my hand roam down from his shoulder to give his plump right breast a firm squeeze.
"Mmmmmmmmm," he sighed as he snuggled against me, "Hope this means they're going to get a good fucking tonight."
"Before I get out of here Sunday I plan to see to it you get fucked from one end to the other...and all points in between," I confirmed as I gave his bright pink nipple, larger than any I've seen on a woman, a playful pinch.
"Perfect!" he giggled as he squirmed under my ministration, "Your beard's gotten a little longer. Starting to look like Santa. Looks good on you."
"Thanks."
We sipped our drinks and chatted a while, keeping him securely in my grasp and feasting my nostrils on the fresh scent of his corpulent nakedness. His left hand eventually found its way to my lap and rested on my expanding member.
"Feels like Bruiser's getting hungry for some action," he observed looking up at me with a playful grin, "Let's get you back to the bedroom and out of these clothes."
