Pook and Pete

Chapter 2

Since Pook hadn’t been home yet today and he was the guest of honor at tonight’s celebration, I decided to drop him off at his place and I’d meet him at the party.  We didn’t talk about how he’d introduce me or why I was there. We decided to play it by ear.

He told me the party started at 8:30 so I figured 9 was the fashionable time to arrive. It was a popular Uptown bar with a diverse clientele, not far from where we had brunch earlier. College kids, young professionals, date night, all races, gays and straights, young and old(ish). Despite my age, I knew I wouldn’t feel out of place. I arrived and asked for the Steve Pookman party, and they walked me up to the rooftop bar to a space reserved for his party. To my surprise, it seemed to be going full swing. There were Pook’s work colleagues, both men and women, what appeared to be Pook’s gay circle of friends, and Bear, Ben and Jack from CrossFit. As is typical early in a party, each of the different groups were keeping to themselves. Pook was entertaining his work friends, so I ordered a drink and joined my CrossFit buddies, who were surprised to see me. “Hey Pete, didn’t know you’d be here…great to see you….can you believe Pook is 30….now maybe we’ll have a chance to beat him….you should’ve told us you were coming…we could’ve picked you up…” they asked nervously. To say they were stunned to see me would be a reach, but there was uncomfortable energy around my arrival.  They knew Pook and I were friends and competitors but didn’t expect to see me there. Just then, the birthday boy strides up, “Pook, you should’ve told us you invited Pete…” it started all over again. I wondered how Pook was going to handle this. He wisely didn’t try to explain. He placed a slightly-more-than-brotherly arm around my shoulder and said to me, “Yeah, so glad you could make it Pete.”  End of story. No explanation.  No excuses.  

The conversation quickly went where you’d expect…. the challenges of CrossFit, exacerbated by aging, all targeted at Pook.  Unexpectedly, Pook grabbed my arm and said, “Pete, there are some guys here I’d like you to meet,” and he walked me over to the group of his gay friends. 

My insecurity went through the roof.  Here are about ten guys, 20s, 30s, and a few closer to my age, but I’m clearly the oldest in the group.  Each is more fit and better looking than the next. And this group fits Pook like a glove.  “Guys, I want you to meet Pete.” That’s all he said. No explanation of who I was, why he was introducing me, nothing. He just left it hanging. Then he added simply, “Pete is one of my CrossFit comrades and he’s special to me, so I wanted you to meet him first.” I so admired his confidence in introducing me as special without an explanation.  “And here are the others…”, with which he called over the other three and introduced them as well.  But I had been singled out as special. Pook was in this with both feet.

The conversation flowed naturally to athletics, competitions, body building, CrossFit pros and cons, and all the health-conscience stuff gay guys talk about.  Pook subtly found a way to include his work pals in the conversation and the party naturally took off. People were having a great time when one of the guys noticed it was 10PM and announced: “10 o’clock; shirts off.” Most of the guys yelped and all of them, Pook included, tore off their shirt.  It was a hot, sultry summer night so shirt removal seemed, while wonderfully erotic to me, not that much of a stretch in a hip, Minneapolis gay-friendly bar like this. I stood there with my CrossFit buddies and thought myself, how the hell do I play this? To the amazement of my CrossFit pals, I tore my shirt off as well. They looked at me, and then at each other with amusement and confusion. But their shirts stayed on.

The night went on with everyone having more and more fun. By the end of the evening, Pook’s gay friends had worked up quite a sweat and, damn, were they sexy.  They seemed to be just getting going for the evening and I couldn’t help but wonder if Pook would rather head out with them to the bars after the party.  I had had enough to drink by this point, so I approached Pook as he was talking to his circle of friends.  With both of us still shirtless, I slid up next to him, threw my arm around his shoulder and pulled him close to me.  He gave me a loving look, slid his hand into my back pocket and leaned into me.  It was an affectionate skin-on-skin embrace. I could read the minds of the others. Their collective thought bubble read: “WTF?” 

Neither of us tried to explain.  I wanted to show my fondness for Pook and he accepted it.  To cement my affection, I called the party to order and offered a toast: “Pook, today is your 30th birthday. A lot of you…” glancing at the youngsters in the group, “…joke about 30 being the beginning of the slide toward old age, but Pook, I know you, and…” I stopped and looked directly into his eyes, “…I think 30 is the beginning of a very special time in your life. Happy birthday my friend.” We locked eyes and didn’t blink.  It was a competition to see who would break the stare first. The group became so quiet you could’ve heard a pin drop.  My toast was so heartfelt, they couldn’t not know what I meant. Pook and I as a couple had to have been inconceivable to many of them.  I was easily old enough to be his father. But what we demonstrated toward each other that night told a different story.  

Sensing the uneasiness, someone finally broke the ice and yelled, “Happy birthday Pook!” while everyone cheered and toasted.

After a lovely evening, the party wound down with no more surprises. 

Although Pook and I drove separately, I had gotten him off to the side during the party and told him I expected him in my bed that night.  He was more than happy to comply. I asked him directly if he’d rather hang out with his buddies to continue to party.  His response spoke volumes:  “Pete, there’s nowhere I’d rather be tonight than in your bed with you.”   I leaned into him and gave him a warm hug, hoping the others at the party would see us.  We agreed that he’d drop his car at his place and I’d pick him up and drive us home.

One of my favorite things to do with someone I care about after a party like that is to wind down and debrief, especially after an important night like tonight. As Pook and I were going up the elevator, I suggested we relax on the terrace with a whiskey and talk about the evening before heading to bed. The terrace of my place is my showpiece. On the 15th floor it wraps around the corner of the building.  It overlooks downtown Minneapolis to the northeast and the lakes on the south, is massive and is surrounded by other high rises.  There’s enough room for a dining table and chairs, an outdoor living room and chaise lounges.  When we got up to the condo, I poured us each a drink. Exhibitionism is one of my kinks, so as we were stepping outside for our wind-down whiskey, I told Pook that we’d relax in our jockstraps.  Pook looked somewhat apprehensive, so I shot him a glance that wordlessly ordered him to strip.

He got the point.

When we were down to our jocks, it wasn’t a surprise to see his cock plump up like a rocket. I had denied him his orgasm earlier today and he wanted it badly.  Pretending not to notice, I directed us to the two side-by-side chaise lounges on the terrace.  Lying next to one another, gazing up to the stars, I reached over and took his hand in mine. He quietly sighed.  We chatted about the evening, about our friends from CrossFit and their confusion about our status.  One-by-one, he walked me through all his work colleagues and male friends from the party.  Who was a stud, who was a slut, and everything in-between.  There we laid; two handsome athletes, staring up into the dark sky at midnight in our jockstraps, holding hands on a sultry summer night. The warmth of his hand raised my body temperature even more. And for the umpteenth time that day, I thought to myself that time could stop now and I’d be happy.  

Emerging from my coma of contentment, I began to plan my strategy.  What physical manifestation of my love would I impose on him? Of course I’d dominate him; own him.  And he would submit. And we’d both love it.

I wanted to fuck him with the same intensity I did last night.  Claim my dominance over him. That night changed my life and there was no reason not to repeat it…maybe even build on it. Add to that, we were under the stars, nearly nude and exposed to city all around us, hopefully with the city watching us.  Envying us.  I trembled at the possibilities.

“Pook,” I ordered, “stand up with both arms on the railing and face out”.  He immediately obeyed. Sitting at the end of my lounge with his uncovered ass in front of me, I licked my lips.  I didn’t know where to start. Oh, but yes I did!

Eventually I’d work my way to his hole, but I’d start with a surprise. He’d been wearing his jock as underwear all evening so naturally it was sweaty.  You know that spot, right between your legs where the end of the two straps meet the bottom of the pouch that cradles your cock and balls? I ordered him to spread his legs wider so I could get to that spot. I located it, leaned in and stuck my tongue between that piece of fabric and his taint. “Oooohhhhh,” Pook groaned.  “Oooooohhhhh”. It was such a lovely way to ease into what I hoped would be another night of epic sex.  It was so gentle, yet so powerful. 

The taste and smell of his salty, sweaty taint was exhilarating and incredibly arousing. I stuck my tongue under the base of the fabric pouch that supported his manhood. Then I extended it as far as it could reach, up to the bottom of his balls and licked and slurped like I hadn’t eaten in days. He tasted so fucking good. “Ooooohhhhh” he bellowed even louder, wiggling his ass in mock agony.

“You like that Pook, don’t you?”

“Oh Daddy.  Please Daddy.”

I didn’t know what he was asking for and I didn’t care.  I was getting everything I wanted.

It was time for the next step. I told him to turn around so his sweat-soaked, jockstrap-covered basket would be inches from my face.  Staring into it, I realized I had everything I ever wanted in life, right here in front of me. Pook’s massive cock straining to be set free for me to use however I wanted. I took several deep breaths to savor the moment and assess the situation.

I reached over to him, slid my fingers under the waistband of his jock, and slowly pulled it down to his ankles, where he instinctively stepped out of it. Now I’m face-to-cock. Although he has a good 3” on me, his cock is like mine in that it points straight up to the sky when erect. Staring at this beautiful cock, knowing I own it, gives me another startling realization. I can do whatever I want to him and he’ll like it. There’s nothing I can do to him he won’t like. 

Here’s what I’m getting at:  unlike traditional sex, particularly with new partners, I often get distracted wondering whether I’m pleasing my partner. Am I moving too fast?  Too slow?  Does he like this? Why did he do that? But when you’re the daddy, it doesn’t matter.  My boy derives his pleasure singularly from my pleasure.  The only thing that matters to him is that I am satisfied.  So, no matter what I do, what kinky move I make, he’ll like it because I like it. That’s the nature of a daddy/boy relationship. It hits me like a thunderbolt and opens the floodgates to my imagination.

In addition to exhibitionism, talking dirty is another supreme turn-on for me, so while I want to immediately devour the 10” cock that’s inches from my face, I look up at him and calmy share the following:  “Boy, turn your head so you can see the high rise over your left shoulder. In that building, five floors above us are three of my daddy friends who are watching us.  I told them about you…how handsome you are, what a stud you are, that you’re my boy. And I told them I was going to fuck you out here on the terrace tonight.  And sometime in the future I’m going to whore you out to them.  They’re up there now watching us.  I’m letting them see the prize I’m going to turn over to them.   Pook, I get so fucking turned-on knowing they’ll be watching when I fuck you.”

His body froze at the thought, but I could hear a massive grin in his voice when he enthusiastically replied, “Fuck yes, Daddy.”

My earlier realization was proven.  If fucking him in front of my friends made me horny, being watched being fucked made him even hornier.  I liked the way this worked.

I then told him to lay on his back on the chaise I had been laying on. The back was slightly raised so he wasn’t completely flat, but his cock and balls were completely exposed. I knelt on the floor and hovered over his cock.  It was so sexy the night before when I edged him, I had to go another round.  This wouldn’t be a contest like last night, but I now knew how my boy loved to be edged. I lowered my mouth to his straining cock and tenderly swallowed it down to my throat just for starters.  Then I wet my middle finger and pushed it into his hole, and then licked his hole and then my finger at the same time as it entered his hole.  I’d lick my finger, then slide it into his hole and lick his hole with my finger inserted. I pushed my second finger in and feasted on where my two fingers were entering his hole.  I licked my fingers, his hole, my fingers, his hole, my fingers, all while my fingers were pushing into and pulling out of his hole.  When I felt he was adequately stretched, I curled my fingers to find his prostate and pressed. Pook shuddered. He was putty. 

But I was just getting started. The student was now the teacher, and like he did to me earlier in the morning, I circled the base of his cock with my left hand which made his already rock hard cock stand up perpendicular to his body. This exposed his engorged mushroom head and, you guessed it, his wide-open piss slit.  Not being able to resist, I sharpened my tongue to a point and lowered it gently into his slit.  He gasped and wilted.  I had learned earlier in the day that the sensation is so overwhelming, you can’t even make a noise.  You can barely utter a moan.  Just enduring the feeling requires every ounce of energy you have.  

I wouldn’t stop.  I reminded Pook that he was being watched. I described the three daddy’s in the next building surveilling our every move. All in their 50s like me, but hairier, and even more muscled bears who like their boys smooth like Pook.  I reminded him that he was auditioning to be my whore.  And when I turned him over to them, one would fuck his hole, one would fuck his mouth, and the last one would lie under him and suck him dry while I watched.  I told him nothing would give me more pleasure.

“You good with that Boy?”  I asked.

“Oh. Daddy.” He could barely speak.  “I’ll do whatever you want me to, Daddy.”

Truth is, I had no intention, at least at this point, of doing this to him, but the raunchy talk made the hot summer night nearly combustible. And before tonight, I never would’ve referred to my buddies as “daddies”. But this daddy/boy thing was consuming my every thought.

So here we are. The two fingers of my right hand are up his hole massaging his prostate. My mouth is alternately sucking him down to the base of his dick, and then stopping to tease his slit. His hands were gripping the arms of the lounge and his knuckles were white. And me whispering about my daddy-pals fucking him while I watched.  He had a grimace on his face that was part agony and part ecstasy. My pleasure was now his pleasure.  This was as good as it gets.

But I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer, so it was time to move on to the final act.

I pulled out and off him and told him to follow me. He was so weak from the intense edging session that I reached under his arms, lifted him off the chaise, and got him on his feet.

“You ok, Pook?”

He grabbed the railing and leaned against it, facing out. After a few breaths, he replied, “Yes Daddy. I want whatever you want to give me.”

“Good boy”, I smiled.

I walked him over the main living area of the terrace where sat a large, cushioned high-back outdoor chair. The kind that swivels, bounces, and reclines. I sat on the edge of the seat and had him stand directly in front of me, facing out to the city. With my legs spread and my cock reaching to the sky, I said, “Gently lower yourself on my cock. I want everyone in Minneapolis to see me fuck you.”

He stepped between my legs and did exactly as told. Gently lowering himself, pausing when his hole touched the tip of my cock, he put his hands on his knees to steady himself and then carefully lowered his weight onto me. Since I had lubed my cock up nicely with spit and had him good and stretched, he dropped down onto my cock without a problem.  

“Arghhh..” he swallowed.

“That good, Pook?”

“Oh, Daddy, please fuck me hard Daddy.”

“No Boy, you’re going to fuck yourself on my pole. Get started.”

And with that he started to rhythmically ascend and descend on my hard, hard cock.  It was heaven.  I’d help him by thrusting my hips into him as much as I could, but he was doing the lion’s share of the work. Thank god he’d had lots of practice squatting in CrossFit because his legs were getting a workout now.

While he was bobbing up and down my cock and groaning, I reminded him of my friends watching him. That his cock was now on full display, and I was sure they liked what they were seeing. The raunch made him insanely hot. The more I talked about what I’d let them do to him, the faster he’d pump, picking up more and more speed. Finally, I sensed the end was near and told him to stop. He let out a disappointed whimper but did what he was told.

I told him to stand up now and clasp his hands behind his head.  I was going to fuck him standing up, for all the city to see.

I could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, “Oh. Yes. Daddy.”

I stood up behind him, secured his hands behind his neck and reached under his arms to hold him to me tightly. I was embracing him from the back when my dick found his hole for the second time and entered easily.  

 “Oooohhhh…” he groaned.

 “I’m going to fuck you until you cum. Handsfree, boy.”

I started pumping like I was pumping a dry well for water. I already had his prostate swollen from the previous round so I knew it wouldn’t be long. I had him in a headlock so he didn’t have much room to maneuver, but he tried to arch his back to take me as deep as he could.

 “Please Daddy,” he nearly screamed in a loud whisper.  “Fuck me hard, Daddy. Give me your seed.  Breed your boy.”

 I could finally feel him stiffen and his hole clenched around my cock like a vice. He howled a loud “Argh..” as he shot a hands-free rope of cum that fully cleared the railing of the balcony.  Oh, how I’d love to be the pedestrian on the street being showered with Pook’s cum.  Then a second rope hit the railing. And a third hit the floor in front of us. And a fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth.  He slumped back into me, still spasming, but without the energy to even stand.  He was like a wet towel, hanging on a coat hook, but my stiff cock was the coat hook. My cock and my arms were the only things preventing him from crumpling to the floor.

 “Well done, Pook,” I said.  

 Breathlessly, he whimpered, “Thank you Daddy.”

 Without withdrawing from him, I pulled us both back to the chair where we sat down, him still impaled on me, but completely limp. I hadn’t cum yet and there was something uniquely romantic about this. My boy, spent, still on my cock, waiting to give me my orgasm. I was so close to it that I knew that his slightest movement on my cock would quickly get me to the point of no return. I held him close and said, “Don’t move Boy.  Stay very still.”

 I carefully pulled the lever on the chair so we both reclined. Imagine, reclined on the terrace at one in the morning, exposed to the city on a hot, sultry night, your cock driving up the hole of the most handsome guy in the city. I reached around him and found his softening cock with my right hand and could feel droplets of cum at the tip of his dick. I scooped up what I could with my index finger, brought it to his mouth and said, “Your reward, Pook.  You deserve this.”

 He took my entire finger in his mouth and savored the cum that was on it. After I withdrew my finger, I reached back down to his cock to retrieve any that might be left. Happily, I felt a drop or two which I scooped up and fed myself. “Mmmmm, you taste good.”  I said.

 It was time. I knew it would only take a few thrusts to put me over the edge.  I pushed my hips into him so my cock deepened in his gut and it felt like I would explode. I was there. I pulled out, one more push, one more pull, and one last push. I erupted like a volcano deep into his bowel. I could feel his body tremble as I spasmed.  I was experiencing the bliss of orgasm and he was experiencing it as well, vicariously, through me.  My pleasure became his pleasure. It was the realization I’d had earlier, brought to a head.

 After I shot my full load into him, I could feel it seeping out of his hole, onto my leg and the chair. But I didn’t care. My semen represented my love for him and even if it got messy I savored the stickiness. I wanted to stay like this forever. He wasn’t stirring either. We were both beyond content. With my cock softening, but still inside him, I slid us both slightly on our left sides to shift some of his weight off me, curled into the spoon position embracing him from the back even more tightly, and drifted off to sleep in the late night summer heat.