Benjie’s Dad

Benjie’s Dad

or

Ethan’s Impromptu Euphoria

Introducing Benjie’s daddy. The one who’s half of his blood courses through his son’s veins (including the many in his cock). This story takes place while Benjie was still in high school.

“Is this Roderick? (pause) It is. Good. Yes. I was wondering if you have any available time today when I could come and see you. My name is Ethan Redmond, by-the-way. I am from out-of-town. I am a friend of Patrick’s. Yeah him, he gave me your name and number. (pause)Yes, I have a son named Benjie. Patrick told you about him. But what about the appointment. Do you have an opening? (pause) You do. Good. When? (pause) Yes, I can be there in about an hour. Is that for a 90-minute time session? (pause) It is. Okay. I will see you then. Soon. Thank you. Thank you.”

I put down the cell phone on the bedside table in the hotel room and stand at the window gazing into the churning blue waters of Gulf of Mexico from my seventh-story view. I am still dressed in my slacks and coat. It would not take me long to get to this impromptu meeting, today, unlike the one that has brought down to this gulf-side city.

Roderick said on the phone to dress relaxed but all I had with me was just another starched shirt, underwear, and the other necessary essentials. But nothing that I would wear would scream relaxed to the man, he knows. I take off my coat and put it on a nearby hanger. I loosen my tie, take it off and unbutton a few of the buttons at the top of my shirt. This will have to do. But to me it still sings uptight. It yells. And it is. But it is the best I can do.

What had brought me to St. Petersburg is an impromptu meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning. I was told this as soon as I walked into my office today, Tuesday, by my very efficient and well-meaning secretary. She had already scheduled me the earliest flight out, so I would be on the Gulf Coast in no time, if I hurried to the plane. I grabbed my already packed bag from my office closet which I keep handy for these unscheduled meetings like this and made my way to the airport.

It was an uneventful flight as I arrived at my destination without much stress. As UN-stressful as any flight could possibly be. But I wanted a respite. A treat which I did not usually afford myself while I am at home. A good friend named Patrick had told me about Roderick and given me his number were I ever to be back in St. Pete again. I made the call and scheduled an appointment as soon as I got into my room.

On the way to the airport, I called Trish, my lovely second wife, to tell her of this impromptu meeting. She did not even sound surprised when I told her where I was off too. She knew my promotion would bring about these unexpected trips. I told her I loved her, and I do, and she said the same back to me. Which I expected. I would be back tomorrow night, Wednesday, after this meeting. I promised. It was short and sweet, our conversation. She also made a point of reminding me that my son, her stepson, Benjie, had practice today for Friday’s big game. I told her he would be okay. He is a tough kid just like his ole man. She laughed when I said that. I will be back way before the game at the end of the week, I reassured her. She reminded me I had promised I would attend this game. I had missed a few in the past weeks. And I hoped I would, but one never knows for sure until that day arrives. It is one of the pains of my promotion.

The cab ride from the hotel to Roderick’s house was short. I told the cabby that I would be back out in about two hours, maybe a tad more, if he were back on time then I would give him a hefty tip plus the money for the fare. The man said he would be there. I hope he is. But I am prepared to call his competitor if he is not here.

Roderick’s house was typical of what I knew homes to be like down here. Massive tropical plants framed the entrance way and a winding circular driveway from the busy road out in front.

I rang his doorbell like he said. I know I am a good 10 minutes early. But I hope my arrival so soon was okay being so early.

“Come on in!” I hear as I attempt another knock on his large front door. The massive door creaks open as I heave-ho all I could upon its heavy weight.

“Good. Good. You are here.” A man says as he walks toward me from the adjacent room. “I am Roderick. And you are Eth…Ethan?”

“I am.” I answer as I close the door behind me. There is a quiet now. The door having silenced the noise from the outside world.

Roderick has on a long flowing yellow decorated sarong draped around his waist and he seems all but bare except for it. The man is blessed with compact muscular frame and abundance of neatly trimmed body hair and a deep brown golden tan. He is somewhat shorter than I am. But most people are in my experience.

“Patrick told me all about you. And your son. The football star.” He tells me as I take in his impressive alluring presence. The man is quite attractive. “Patrick is a good man. He visits me quite frequently when he comes into town.” Roderick continues as he ushers me into his spacious house.

“That is what he said.” I say. “I see Patrick quite frequently too. He is one of my very good friends.”

“Patrick has a lot of friends. I have my massage table set up outside by the pool. Let us make our way out there.” Roderick says. “I told you to dress relaxed. Is that what you call relaxed?”

“This is all I had with me.” I tell him. “Sorry.”

“No matter.”

We walk out onto the back. It is a tropical paradise. The plants I saw out front matches what is around his covered pool. It is shady, inviting, and tranquil. And cool. One could not even tell that you were in downtown St. Petersburg.

“This is nice.” I tell him.

“I want you to be relaxed. So, atmosphere is important.”

“I am now.” I let the stranger know. “I am now.”

“You can put your clothes over there.” Roderick says as he points to a chair away from the sheet-covered massage table. “And there is a towel to cover yourself once you lay atop the table.”

“Thank you.” I say.

“Oh, and you need to be on your stomach. Have you ever had a massage?”

“Okay.” I say back to him. “And, yes, I have had massages but not near enough of them since my recent promotion.”

“Let me go get the oil; it needs to be heated up a bit before I can use it. I will be right back.” Roderick says as he walks back into the house as I start to undress.

I kick off my shoes and socks. And then my starched white shirt. Then I am down to my pressed slacks and underwear. And they are off and joined with my discarded shirt on the patio chair. It feels good to be unencumbered from those bothersome clothes as I stand naked in this faux tropical paradise. My hand goes to my cock and balls loosening them from the entanglement of the dense growth of my hairy bush.

I lay stomach down on the table and haphazardly attempt to cover my naked ass with the too-small towel he had provided me with from atop the sheet. It barely covers my ass.

I stretch my arms out as I await Roderick’s return. It was not a long plane ride down here, but it was still somewhat stressful, nonetheless, as you never know what may happen on these plane trips. People are so rude nowadays. I need this massage. I do. I tell myself in my head.

“You’re a tall drink of water, like my mom used to say.”

“What? Whoa!” I say, surprised by Roderick’s quiet return. “You caught me surprise.”

“Sorry ‘bout that but I am kinda stealthy. So, how tall are you?”

“I am six-four or five.” I tell him.

“They grow’em big where you are from. Don’t they?”

We both laugh at the implication of his meaning.

“I guess.” I say, not sure if they do or not but what does it matter, I think.

“But Patrick is shorter.” Roderick says. “Much shorter. About my height.”

“Yep. He is.” I say.

“Let me get this towel off you. I can’t work on you with it laying there being such a nuisance.” Roderick says before I can even make a complaint about its quick removal. I am met with a cool wisp of the overhead fan-whipping air across my bare buttocks. I reach back but the towel is gone. “You have a nice ass, Ethan. You go to the gym, much?”

“I do. I work out at home as much as I can.”

“It shows.” Roderick says as I feel a warm gentle moistness begin to coat my body. “Let me know if the oil is too hot.”

“No, it is fine. It feels good.” I hear myself answer as I feel my skin being coated down in this warm liquid.

I feel the slight heat from the oil as he applies it to my shoulders and then down my back and further down into my raw exposed buttocks. He then starts working his hands and the ten fingers across my neck, shoulders and back. His touch is magical as I feel the stress begin to melt away which each pass of his skilled digits upon me.

“How is the pressure?” He asks me. “Too much? Too less?”

I mumble incoherently, “It is good.”

And it is.

I do not know what he is doing but he works his way across my back. Kneading each shoulder blade. Working his fingers into every fiber of my taunt stress-filled muscles, loosening them with every gentle and graciously rough pass of his hands. He is truly gifted with his two hands. He ventures further and applies more oil from the little bottle. I can feel the warmth of the oil as it makes its way between the open crack of my ass. His lithe fingers duck between each cheek and smears the warm oil deeper into my hairy cavity. It feels really good as I wiggle under the warmth.

“Ooaa.” I coo like an owl as he urges more oil into this crevice.

“That feel good?” I hear Roderick ask.

“Yes. It feels really good.” I mumble on as he squirts more of this warm oil onto and between my hairy buttocks. I can feel it seeping onto my balls and cock which are buried underneath me.

His fingers dive like gentle daggers into my hole. One. Two. Three. Each making a single plunge, one at time, and then soon as a concerted trio. I take all three with ease. He pumps these fingers into me stirring a sensation I have long since thought abandoned.

“You have a nice ass.” Roderick compliments me as he continues to finger me with his three digits. But he has said this more than once now.

“Uh…Huh.” I mumble out of sheer pleasure as he continues to work all three fingers into me with a rapid but gentle movement.

He takes his fingers from my hole and works on the calves of my legs and then down to my foot and toes. I wiggle on the table. I am ticklish.

He lifts me up by one of my legs, and I am carried from off the sheet. Bent into a human pretzel as I am being pressed next to his chest. He is working on the underside of my leg with his strong hands. As if I were facing him from the front while standing. Whipping the muscle of my leg with such fervor for a man determined as he travels the length of my leg from my waist and then down to my cock and balls. He fondles my manhood for a brief second before he continues onward down my leg.

“That’s not to rough, is it?” He asks.

“No.” I murmur. “Its fine. Really good.”

He moves to the other side of me and does the exact same movements on the other leg.

“Still, okay?”

“Yes!” I answer. “Yes!”

He moves from there and places my legs on the table. I am flat on my stomach.

Once again, I feel his fingers roam across the roundness of my ass. He is gently kneading each of my buttocks in his strong hands. Going from my lower back down to the space between my legs. And then the back of my thighs. On the underside.

“Raise up.” I hear Roderick says. I do as he commands without a thought on my part. He could tell me anything in this moment and I would do it.

His hands are once again wrapped around my cock. Moving it. Shifting it and gently rolling it around in his fingers before he points it away from my body and between my ass-cheeks. And he roughly but gently pats me on my ass motioning me to lay flat once again on the table. He tickles my exposed cock with his fingers paying special attention to its exposed glan. My mushroom-shaped cockhead with his fingers. I can feel myself grow hard and then, harder under his thoughtful tutelage.

“You like that, don’t you?” Roderick asks as he continues to fondle my cock between his agile fingers.

“Uh…Huh.”

“Your cock sure does.” Roderick says. “You mind if I drop my sarong? I do not think I need it, anymore. Do you?”

“No. Go right ahead.” I say without hesitation. “We are men here. Aren’t we?”

“That we are.”

Roderick drops his brightly decorated wisp of material. I turn my head from where it was so I can clearly get a good picture of him. His cock is hard or what I think is hard but the bulge in the sarong was quite noticeable when I first walked through his front door. And the hair I saw across his chest covers his groin in an equally thick mat; it makes a visibly full trail from there and up to his chest. I gaze at him in an awkward position as he continues to tread in the space between my buttocks.

“Turn over on your back, please.” Roderick orders me in a very monotone and deeply masculine voice but I comply. Willingly.

As I do my semi-hard-on flops about from one side of my hairy thigh to the other slinging my dripping juices into the many hairs that dot my groin.

Roderick does not seem to bat an eye at my half-hard semi. I am sure he has seen many of these in his profession.

“You do seem fill up my table, Ethan.” Roderick says as I get myself into the right position on my back. “Slide up some will you, on the table. If you can.”

I scoot up. My head nearing the top of the table and my feet, the bottom.

“Thank you.”

“Sure.” I tell Roderick. “You do work out? Doncha ya? That I can clearly see, now. You have a family?”

“Yes.”

“Children? I hope. Oh, that’s right, Patrick says your son’s name is Benjie, a big-time high school football star.” Roderick interjects.

“Yes. On occasion I work out with him. When he is usually with me at my home and not at his mother’s; he is a football player on his winnersville high school team.” I tell him with the greatest of ease and pride. “And as father and son we have done some really intense workouts, together.”

“Is he built like his daddy?” Roderick asks with a grin.

“He’s not as tall as I am but he is much more muscular than I am. He is more health conscience than I am, too. More than I have ever been. Anyway. He takes better care of himself. But he is only seventeen years old. But he is still growing, no doubt. And is well on his way to becoming a good-sized man. Like his dad.” I say with the same amount of ease as the first time.

“And he has a chance of looking like this. What a lucky kid.” Roderick says.

This gets a laugh out of both men.

“And I bet he is all big cocked and full of testosterone, like his dad, too, Uh? Way to go Benjie.”

“Yeah. Actually, it is short for Benjamin. But that sounded so grown-up when he was a little kid.” Ethan says. “So, we decided to called him Benjie. His mother and I.”

“And Benjie sounds almost like an innocent.” Roderick says. “But boys that age, are they really innocent?”

“I don’t know about that. You know how the kids are nowadays. They know more than we ever did at that age.” Ethan adds.

Roderick says with a smirk. “And the wife?”

“She is at home. A happy housewife.” I add. “Minding the store, if you please.”

“I would imagine.”

Roderick smears some more of the warm oil onto my chest and up and down the front of both of my legs, but he seems to want to linger longer on coating my cock and balls with the now cooling oil.

“All set.” Roderick says as he takes to rubbing down my chest. My chest hairs are making a wave of oil and curly fibers as he works over the deep muscles of my chest. “I do like to see a man that takes care of himself.”

“I try.”

“Well, you are succeeding. Most men your age seem to have let themselves go.” Roderick adds. “And what are you? Forty? Forty-five?”

“No. I am only thirty-nine, actually.” I add.

And Roderick smiles.

“And no sign of a beer belly?” He adds.

“Nope.” I say. “To many of my high school and college buddies have got themselves a big ole gut. Too much beer.”

“But not you.”

“No. Not me. Knock on wood.” I say aloud.

When I say ‘wood’ I see Roderick’s eyes drift down to my groin. Specifically, my cock. I am now fully hard, and it is pointing upwards to the overhead ceiling fan like a mini-Tower of Pisa. This gets another Cheshire grin across Roderick’s face.

“Many of your friends have a piece of equipment like that?” He asks.

“No, not all of them.” I say.

“Patrick doesn’t.” Roderick says. “That I know for a fact.”

That is true. Patrick does not.

“No.” I answer.

“Let’s leave it be.” He says. “For now.”

He continues with his work on me, but my hard-on looms large, and he seems to knock it about as he whisks over my body with his rapidly moving hands. It is like the stiff elephant trunk in the room.

“That thing has a life of its own.” Roderick says. “You seem to have gotten bigger since you have been lying here on my table.”

I mumble. I have. When he crept his fingers onto the inside of my thighs. I got harder. It is a sensitive zone on my body. And a place that always gets my cock harder.

“You get enough action from your wife?” Roderick asks. “I hope.”

“Not as much as I would like.”

“A man needs to de-stress. And fucking is a good one at relieving one’s stress.” Roderick says. “Don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t agree more. That is right. Fucking makes a many of a man happy. Me, included.”

I feel Roderick moves his hands from my chest and ease once again down to my groin. But he does so in a reluctant way, he does not seem to want to rush to my large looming cock. Under his spell I drift off into a light slumber. Roderick’s touch is magical.

“Are you happy, Ethan?” Roderick asks me as I feel him firmly grip onto my cock in his tight clutches of his strong hand. As I begin feel myself expelling more of my potent juice from my balls. I feel him smear this juice atop my cockhead. That causes me to release even more of my potency from my balls.

“Euphoric.” I tell him.

“Euphoric?”

“Most definitely so.” I reiterate.

His hands continue to roam over my chest, arms, legs. As I am lulled deeper into my sleepy haze.

“Ohhh. Ohhh.”

The moan whispers from my mouth as I feel my cock clutched deep inside a warm wet cocoon. He squeezes me tightly into what I know is his hole. I do not bother opening my eyes to see him as I feel him slide up and down atop me. He had moved in a swiftly stealth movement from the floor to straddle me on the massage table before I knew it happened.

He is gentle in his motions as he rides me. Unlike a fierce bull-rider he takes me on a gentle gallop as if he were riding in a back pasture on some heroic white steed. But I feel his hands press down on my chest as he bears his heft on me when he lifts himself up and down on my cock.

“You feel good.” I suddenly say as I feel him squeeze his inner ass muscles tightly around my cock. He is attempting to milk me of my plentiful baby-batter. But it is not time for that yet.

“You feel good, too.” Roderick says to me in response. “You feel damn good. Better than Patrick.”

I feel the hairiness of the insides of his ass cheeks as our different hairs mingle in the dark depths of his ongoing plunges.

“Ooooooh! Ooooooh! Ooooooh! Oh! Oh! Oh!”

His rowing on my cock grows more frequent as he rocks to and fro on my ready-made hardness. I am not a teenaged boy, so I know I am nowhere near exploding.

His hole is wet. Sticky. And getting moister as I excrete more of my gracious early seed into this dark and wonderous place.

I feel my cock forcefully hit the upper reaches of Roderick’s ass. I know I am hitting his prostate as his groans have escalated in their volume every time, I land a blow in that special spot every time I hit the high ceiling of his interior. He is the only man I have ever heard make such loud noises when the contact has been made. And that vocalization makes my cock all the steelier.

I open my eyes to see Roderick bathed in a sheen of sweat. I am also encased in a similar sheen as Roderick has increased in his steady rocking atop me.

As Roderick squeezes tightly on my cock, his cock bounces upon me like a stiff jumping snake across my hairy abdomen. His hardness fuels my own erection as it spears deep into Roderick’s dark inner-most interior.

“Fuuuuuuucccckkkkkk! Ffffffuuuuuccccckkkk!” Roderick moans as his sperm-y load explodes from his cock and melts over the fur that covers my chest and body. His man-jizzy waxy rivulets weave their way through my curly-Qs like they are melting. But he does not ease up on his erratic-like although controlled gyrations as he continues with his sexual riding-gallop upon me.

It is too much.

I moan as I feel myself explode deep within him.

“Give me that seed! Give me your seed!”

With each beat of my heart, I unload spurt after spurt of my manly-batter deep into Roderick’s dark hole.

We sigh. The both of us. Relieved of the seed that had once filled both of our four hangers between our legs.

Roderick disengages himself from me and eases himself off the table.

“Patrick said you were something.” Roderick says. “And he was right. You are.”

So, Patrick has told him of their history.

“You want a shower? Or a swim?” Roderick asks. “You can do both before you have to leave.”

“No. I am good.” I say. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.” He says. “You can fuck me anytime you are in town.”

Roderick stands on his tippy-toes and gives me a kiss, while at the same time squeezing my cock in his strong hands.

“Your son is fortunate to have a father like you.” Roderick says. “I hope he is aware of how good of a man his daddy is.”

“At least when his daddy is fucking. Right?” I reply.

“Especially.” Roderick replies, rather arrogantly, to me. “Especially when his daddy is fucking.”