My Daddy Done Told Me

I was growing damned fucking tired of my contemporaries, they being in their mid-twenties. Every guy I was ever with, spent more time preening in front of a mirror, than concentrating on making love, and by extension, making me happy. Their creed seemed to consist solely of narcissism. Their focus in bed was to satisfy their supreme egos. "And who are you again?" their eyes seemed to ask. Yeah, baby. I was fucking tired of the whole scene, and that's when I decided to expand my horizons and look for an older man to share my bed.

I actually found a free website called "daddysearch.com." How weird is that? I determined that the personal ads posted on the site could be broken down into two categories. The majority of the daddies ranged in age from mid-thirties to mid-fifties (if you can believe the biographies). A few went far beyond that age group, but there weren't enough of them to make up a whole category. The second group, consisted of men below thirty, and most of them were mere Twinkies, who swore they were over eighteen. I just assumed they were looking for sugar daddies, but then, I wasn't looking for a sugar daddy, so I had no right to make that assumption.

The site had pages and pages of pictures and profiles. I was surprised at the apparent popularity of the website. The pictures were mostly of smiling faces, but I knew if I contacted anyone, I'd get to see more, much more. I am not ashamed to admit that I was super attracted to many of the men in the thirty to fifty category, but before making any contacts, I decided to post my own photo and profile. I would wait a week or two to see if anyone was interested. If I didn't get a "hit," then I would reach out and make the initial contact.

I had a few nice selfies of myself in my download folder, and I chose one to accompany my profile under my user name, [email protected]:

Tall, dark and handsome. Mid-twenties. Have good job with promising future. Wish to meet an older man (30 to 50) for companionship, and maybe more. Definitely not looking for a sugar daddy. New York City area only, please.

Much to my delight (and maybe horror) I received over one hundred fifty E Mail responses in less than forty-eight hours after my personal ad was posted. I narrowed it down to five very handsome men, but decided to contact one at a time. The first one's user name was Johnnybear, and his profile read as follows:

Seeking a younger friend to attend sporting events and theater with me. Just shy of six feet. Husky and hairy. Mid-forties. Recently lost my companion. If interested, please contact me, and we'll see what develops.

I wondered about the companion he lost. Did he walk out on him or did he die? Either way, I felt sorry for the guy, and answered his E Mail immediately. I told him all about me, my likes and dislikes, and asked if he would like to meet me somewhere in lower Manhattan where I lived. I even signed it with my real name, Craig Stevenson. Within an hour, I heard from John Blake.

This time, his note was long and informative. He even volunteered the fact that his former partner had been twenty-five years older than he, and had died of cancer. This time around he was seeking a younger companion. "I work out, and I am fit and healthy. I call myself a bear because I have a hairy chest, but it ends there." He went on to say, "If you would like to meet, please call me at 212-555-7001, any weekday evening after six, and we can set a date."

I must say I was surprised at how much personal information he was giving a perfect stranger, but I figured that he was anxious to meet someone and end the loneliness caused by his late partner's death. To tell the truth, I was just as anxious to meet him. He sounded like just the man I was looking for.

It was a little early to call him, so I waited until a little after six and dialed his number. The sexiest voice I ever heard, answered.

"Hello."

That was it; just one word, and I felt seduced.

"Is this John?" I somehow managed to ask. "This is Craig."

"Craig," the sexy voice answered. "I'm so glad you called. I was hoping you would."

"I'd really like to meet up with you, John. What's your schedule look like?"

"Honestly, Craig, I'm not putting you off, but I have to go up to Buffalo for a couple of days on business. I'll be home late Friday evening. Would you like to have dinner with me Saturday evening?"

"Sure, I'd like that a lot. Just tell me where and when."

"There's a great little Italian place on twenty first and second called Gino's. Is six o'clock good for you?"

"It's perfect. I'll know you from your picture, John. Anyway you'll be the best looking guy there."

"You're mistaken. I think you'll be the best looking guy there. And Craig, I'm excited to meet you."

"Ciao, John."

I remained excited for the next few days. Saturday could not come fast enough. I dressed casually and got to the restaurant about 6:15. I told the hostess that I was waiting for Mr. Blake, and I took a seat in the lobby. He came in five minutes later, and my heart flipped. He looked exactly like his picture, and I had nothing to be disappointed about. I jumped up, and in my excitement, I yelled a little too loud, "John?"

He smiled back at me, and extended his hand. I would have preferred to hug and kiss him right there, but I took his hand and shook it fondly.

"Craig," he said staring at me. "You're beautiful." I could only blush and smile back.

The hostess sat us at a small table for two. It was up against a wall and afforded us lots of privacy. We remained silent until the waiter came over, introduced himself and took our wine order. John ordered first, and when he was finished, the waiter asked, "And for your son, sir?"

I thought John would be embarrassed, but he laughed, and ordered the same for me. I decided not to comment about the waiter's remark. We both knew what we were getting into with such a large age difference. Besides, I didn't mind being mistaken for John's son at all. He was so fucking handsome.

Anyway, the waiter's faux pas broke the ice, and we started to chat like two old friends. I was so pleased at how easy it was to talk with this man. There were no awkward moments. He wanted to know all about me from early childhood. He was genuinely interested in me, unlike my usual fuck buddies. He wanted to know if I was ever bullied in school. Had I ever had my heart broken? What did I do for a living? He continued to ask dozens of questions. I started to tell him things that even my closest friends and co-workers knew nothing about.

"I realized in middle school that I was gay," I began. "I was athletic, and joined a few of my high school's sports teams. I stayed in the closet, and none of my buddies or teammates suspected. I had no reason to do so, but the day I graduated college, I came out to my parents. They kicked me out, and I haven't spoken to them in four years.

"I'm an account executive for Sanders and Sanders. We are a big ad agency on Madison. I'm doing well. My accounts are happy, and have been referring me to other potential accounts. I've had four raises in three years, so no complaints."

When I was done with my biography, John was silent. He just smiled at me, and took my hand. As much as I loved the way he was caressing my hand, his silence made me uncomfortable, so I said, "Now tell me about you, John, and start at the beginning."

He continued to hold my hand when he started his narrative.

"I wasn't as brave as you, Craig. I could not admit to myself that I was gay. Before I finished college, I found myself engaged to a beautiful girl I had been dating since freshman year. I wonder to this day, why she didn't ever question why I never pressured her for sex.

"In my upper senior year, I sat next to a handsome fellow student in a marketing class. I don't even remember his name. One day, he asked me to join him for a drink at a local bar on Friday night. Half the student body hung out there, and I saw nothing wrong in it. I even asked Margery to join us, but she declined. I had a car, so he asked me to pick him up at his off campus apartment. When I got there, he was scantily dressed. He told me that it would be more fun if the two of us drank at home instead of a crowded bar, and we wouldn't need a designated driver if I stayed over.

"I was hiding my sexual orientation, but I wasn't naïve. I knew what might happen. I smiled to let him know that I approved, and I went in. John made a nice dinner for us, and we had lots to drink. I lost my virginity, and spent the night with him, and many nights to come. He was a kind and sensitive lover. He took plenty of time, and taught me how to suck cock, and get fucked, and how to fuck so as to give your partner little or no pain at the beginning. I was ecstatic by the end of the evening. I knew I had to come out of the closet. After we graduated, I lost touch with him.

"I thought it would be difficult to break my engagement, but Margery didn't seem to mind at all.

"After graduation, I got a good job in sales for a large machine parts manufacturer. I've done well, and I'm now the National Sales Manager. I used to travel a lot, but now I only travel to trouble shoot. I met Abe on my first job in the field. He owned a clothing manufacturing plant in Brooklyn. His buyer called to say he wanted to place an order for some machine parts, but he wanted a salesman to come to the factory. Abe didn't like ordering on the phone. I thought that was a bit eccentric, but hey, Abe was wealthy. He had worked hard to build his business, and he deserved a bit of eccentricity.

"I arrived at his factory late in the afternoon. I expected to see a short, balding old Jewish guy, but I got the shock of my life. Abe was forty-eight at the time. He was six feet, three inches tall, and built like a football player. His muscles bulged indecently, and his clothes could barely contain him. He had all his curly hair. It was a honey chestnut color, and I suspected that it was dyed. Abe was wearing tight coveralls. It was obvious that he spent a lot of time in the factory during working hours. I could see his package, clearly outlined at his crotch. If I was right, he was humongous.

"I was entranced, but Abe quickly noticed that I was staring at his package. 'Are you a crotch watcher?' he asked with a big grin on his face. 'It's OK if you are. I am too,' he added. He put his brawny arm around my shoulder and led me into his office.

"I sat down in front of his desk, and took out my order pad. Abe was seated now and he was grinning at me. 'Your boss finally had the good sense to send me a gay salesman,' he laughed.

"I stuttered and wanted to know how he knew. 'Gaydar, my dear boy. It takes one to know one.' I was flabbergasted. Never in a million years would I have suspected that Abe was gay. After he placed his order, he didn't ask me, he demanded that I have dinner with him. During dinner, he didn't suggest, he ordered me to come home with him.

"Abe made love to me that night, and we had more than twenty glorious years together. He was like my first lover. He was kind and considerate, but mostly he was sensual. He gave me a trip around the world that lasted half the night. He even did my toes, my arm pits, and rimmed me for what seemed like forever. I had to beg him to get me off. I thought I would explode if he didn't. I tried hard that night to give him the same pleasure. Neither of us slept at all. We made love all night.

"He died a few months ago, and I've been really lonely. I don't know how to do the bar scene, so when I discovered daddysearch.com, I decided to try it out. I've been on for three weeks, and you are the first person I wrote to who answered me."

"I am so glad I did," I said. I wanted to let John know that I was happy that we had met each other.

While we were waiting for our dessert, John said to me, "I am going to be as bold with you as Abe was with me. I insist that you come home with me tonight."

"What did you say to Abe when he demanded that you go home with him that first night?" I really wanted to know.

"I said, yes."

"Then I guess I'll say yes also," but to be honest, I did have my doubts.

John took my hand. "I want to make you extremely happy tonight."

He didn't know, of course, but he had just said the magic words. All doubts left me. Finally, I had a partner who wanted to make me happy, and boy, he made me very happy that night. His tongue caressed my cock more sensuously than I could ever have dreamed. I begged him to fuck me, and he did it with such tenderness and care that I never felt a bit of pain. He only gave me pleasure, extreme pleasure. Then, as if that wasn't enough, after he got me off twice, he said, "You don't have to do anything for me, if you don't want to. I'll understand." Ingenuously, I laughed in his face.

"Are you kidding? I can't wait to make you as happy as you just made me."

John smiled and lay flat on his back, spreading his legs, inviting me to do his bidding, and I was delighted to do so. I made love to him, intending to give him the most pleasure I was capable of imparting. This was my quest when I discovered daddysearch.com, and I had no intention of fucking up the opportunity I had sought, and found. I went right for his cock. It tasted so delicious, and his cum tasted even better.

Afterward, we cuddled, kissed and fondled each other in John's queen sized bed. We both fell asleep, and whether I intended to or not, I spent the night cradled in his arms.

We dated, and made love, for almost two months before we were willing to admit that we loved each other. There were so many obstacles to any kind of a relationship between us. John had loved Abe so much, he couldn't believe that it was possible to fall in love again. As for me, as much as I enjoyed John's love making, I could not get past our age difference. In the end I accepted the old adage that age was just a number, and I gave myself completely to the man I considered to be the perfect lover.

We began to discuss moving in together, and I had another hang-up. My apartment was too small, and I didn't want to live in the apartment John had shared with Abe, nor to commit to making love in Abe's bed. I didn't mind it when we were "tricking," but it bothered me to make love in what was to be a committed relationship. John insisted that Abe would be pleased as punch that he had found another love, and was happy again, but I couldn't accept that at all. In the end, John agreed that we would both give up our rental apartments, and rent or buy a co-op or a condo together. That suited me just fine, and we moved forward with our plans.

We had our problems, of course. We had a different set of friends. Whichever group we were with, I was perceived to be using John as a sugar daddy. John laughed it off, but I was deeply disturbed. Then when we were out in a public place, like a restaurant or bar, people thought we were a father and son. I didn't care, but that gave John cause to be disturbed. Life became a lose, lose, situation. The only thing that kept us together was our love, and mutual respect for each other.

John was more philosophical about it all than I was. "People will get used to us being a couple," he opined, "and this shit will stop in good time." I could only hope that he was right.

He was right, as usual. Our friends got used to us, and after a while they saw us as a couple, and not as a gold digger and his patsy. John began to fit in easily with my friends, and I did the same with his. Outsiders still saw us as father and son, but we both learned to laugh it off.

"It's funny," John said once, "I never had this problem with Abe. He must have looked younger than I."

I laughed, and assured him that he looked like a kid in my eyes, and that he made love like a teen ager. If that didn't make him feel better, I don't know what could. We also had an ally, and that was time. In time, whatever mild abuse was directed at our age difference, rolled right off our backs. We simply learned to ignore idiocy.

One day, John laughed at a waiter's remarks. He smiled at me and sang to the tune of Blues in the Night, "Your daddy done told you, when you were in knee pants, the world is a troublesome thing, which'll leave you to sing, the blues in the night."

We both laughed, and after that, nobody could penetrate our armor of love.

 

Brooksie

[email protected]

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