Breaking the Dry Spell

Luke Carlson still felt proud of his body. He'd slimmed down to 230 but was still trim as ever. He'd stayed with the Panthers organization in a scouting capacity after this big retirement announcement. He credited being around football as inspiration for staying in top shape, and it helped that he still had access to the weight room and the same strength coaches he had as a professional player. And on weekends, he always had his health club in the suburbs.

Luke sat now at the bar of the Capital Grille. This was his regular weeknight meal out, once or twice a week. Just some alone Luke time, having a good steak and a couple of beers before taking a car service back to his suburban mansion. He'd started dressing more professionally when he showed up at the Bank of America Stadium... wool trousers, loafers, button-down shirt, and he had a custom blazer he'd throw on for these steakhouse dinners.

"Mr. Carlson..." a voice interrupted him. Luke looked up to see a 30-something business bro, in a similar attire, standing nervously next to the bar. 6-foot-even, dirty blond hair, brown eyes... Luke was a sucker for brown eyes. Like a lot of millenial bros, this guy was solid from dedicated time at the gym. Even with a busy career and a wedding band that suggested family life. "I hate to ask you, man... but could I have your autograph?"

Luke gave a faint smile and nodded. He hated this ritual, to be honest, but it came with celebrity and success. "Who am I making this out to?" he asked as he took the pen and paper.

"Um... Tom... God, thanks... I'm in New York but I'm a huge Panthers fan... grew up as one actually."

For some reason Luke was warming up to this guy. "Carolina boy?" he grinned. He hadn't picked up the usual local lilt, however.

Tom shook his head and laughed. "Chicago suburbs," he said. "I just thought the uniforms were cool as a kid... I got so much shit for that."

Luke laughed and handed him the pen and paper.

"God, thanks, man. I know you must get asked for that a million times."

"Some," Luke said gracefully but truthfully.

Tom got the hint. "All right, sorry to disturb your dinner, Mr. Carlson." And like that he returned to the party of bankers who were leaving after a business dinner.

Mr. Carlson, Luke thought. He couldn't remember last time he'd been called that. It made him feel old, at 30, but he also appreciated the implicit respect. Luke wasn't crazy about the way total strangers thought they knew him. Or were looking for a piece of him.

His shank of dick throbbed in his trousers. Carlson had somehow imagined that his NFL retirement would free him to get laid more. No longer under a media microscope, he could line up a nice thick cock to suck. Or a hot daddy ass to fuck. The old Luke would have reeled that Finance Bro right in. Dude might be straight and married, but he was starstruck as hell. Luke had spent his first few years in the league enjoying groupie sex after encounters pretty much like that. He missed those carefree days. His cock missed those carefree days.

But something was missing in his life. Luke didn't want a groupie. It was a catch 22: as an elite athlete Luke knew his worth and knew he deserved a special man, but he didn't trust anyone into him solely for being an elite athlete.

He took a sip. Stop being a sad sack Luke. You're 30. Not 50.

There came a twitch of his boner again, a firmness that made him glad his hardon was hidden underneath the bar. If it had been a while since he'd connected with a dude sexually, it had been even longer since he had a 50 year old. A daddy. It had taken Carlson until his mid 20s to realize, or admit, he was wired for older men. There were the teen crushes on authority figures in his Ohio town. And for a while he blamed his fixation on his losing his cherry to a State Street exec in Boston, a BC alum who chatted him up at a fundraising event. Luke still thought back to that man as his ideal, but he also knew if it hadn't been John Daley, it would have been some other older, successful man.

Like the banker who'd just arrived at the bar, three seats down. Suit and tie, just carrying his success in his demeanor. Luke took a second to size him up without being too obvious. Tall, about 6'3", and medium build, probably mid-50s, mostly gray hair kept banker-short, thinning but not receding. Handsome guy, with a roman nose, strong jaw, and just the right amount of tan and crows-feet wrinkles. And those brown eyes. Fuck.

It took a second, but Luke knew he was a familiar face.

"Hey, you go to my swim club, don't you?" Luke blurted out before he could even think or stop himself.

He expected the man to be annoyed, but instead the professional looked over at the former jock and gave a grin of recognition. "Foxcroft?" he asked to clarify.

Luke nodded. "I'm only there on the weekends, but I'm pretty sure I've seen you before."

The man smiled. "Probably. When I turned 50, I made a vow to get back in shape, and I've been holding to my end of the bargain ever since."

"Yeah?" Luke smiled. "Impressive." He didn't want to seem overly lecherous, but he had to admit this man was a total DILF and the body beneath the suit was clearly well kept. "How long ago was that?"

"I'll plead the fifth on that one, buddy," the exec smirked. "A while."

"That's cool," Luke said. God something about this man had the right amount of laid-back easy going, and right amount of no-BS gruff exec. "Listen... I know how it is to come to a bar looking for some alone time and everyone in the world coming up to you."

That got a sympathetic raise of the eyebrows from Bank Exec. "People been hounding you for autographs?" he asked.

So the man knew who he was. "Shit, I guess that sounded like one of those 'you know who I am?' lines," Carlson said with a blush.

The Exec laughed. "It's all good, man. I'm not famous," he added. "But I had to stop going to Del Friscos cause the gold diggers circle around there like flies. Took me a couple of tries to find a steak house that wasn't a divorcee scene, you know?"

Luke flashed an eye at the man's left hand. No ring. He thought he was being subtle, but the man caught where he was looking.

"Yeah, divorced myself."

Luke felt rebuked. "Sorry, man."

The Exec shook his head. "Don't be. I'm living my best life now. Got two grown kids off at college. And a job that pays for my golf habit," he joked.

"I kind of feeling that way, too," Luke said. "After retirement. At least mostly."

Exec gave that sympathetic look again. "But not entirely?"

Luke almost wanted to unload on this guy. But he just gave a wry grin. "Look man, you didn't come here to hear about a retired athlete's problems. But if you wanna come over, I wouldn't mind some company with my steak dinner."

There it was Carlson putting himself out there. Even if the Exec didn't see it as flirting, it was forward in its own way.

Thankfully, Exec picked up his scotch and scooted his stool back, sliding down to the free stool next to Carlson. "I'm Scott," he said, offering his firm businessman handshake.

Luke gave a friendly smile. "Luke, though you know that already.... so, Scott, what brings you out on a Wednesday night?"

"Long day... and I wasn't ready to go back to an empty house just yet, you know?"

Luke felt a connection to this man but had promised not to talk about his loneliness lately. "Where you live? Burbs I take it?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah, Foxcroft, right near the swim and racquet club."

"I do too," the athlete said, and they traded their street locations. They spend the next half hour talking animatedly about their suburb and what it was like to live there. Then the following half hour about their interests and hobbies.

"I wasn't sure what it would be like to transplant to North Carolina," Luke admitted, but it's actually great for fishing and outdoors stuff.. you have the mountains and rivers and lakes, all nearby. The hunting is actually better in Ohio... " then turning to the Exec, he asked, "you hunt, Scott?"

The man shook his head. "Nah, but I love fishing. A few college buddies and I go out to Montana each year for a week."

Luke's eyes lit up. "That sounds amazing... invite me along next time," he joked.

Scott laughed and nudged his legs gently against Luke's suited one. There was a brief spark between the two, but Scott paused, feeling like he'd gone too far. Been too familiar.

There were men that Scott Monahan was attracted to as potential sex partners. And there were those incredibly hot, impossible men he'd jerk off to for a quick release after a late work night. Luke Carlson was very much in the second category.

"Um, well," the Exec said, checking his watch. "I should probably go. Long day tomorrow, you know." Somehow the time had passed and it was almost 10.

"Yeah," Luke said, trying to hide his dejection. His hardon had long gone away and been replaced by a half-forgotten fluttery feeling in his belly.

"Maybe I'll see you around?" the businessman said as he took the spare receipt and put it in his wallet.

"At the swim club," Luke replied in an almost a chipper tone. "I'm here pretty much every Wednesday, too," he added. "Kind of a little ritual. Some other nights, too."

Scott nodded and clapped Luke's strong shoulder before offering his hand again. "Well, it' was a pleasure to meet you, Luke."

"You too, Scott, take care, man."

***

Luke felt dumb the whole next few days. He actually jerked off imagining Scott the Exec over him, lifting Luke's legs and fucking him. Deep, hard, loving. Luke made a point of going to the swim and racquet club on Saturday. And again on Sunday. No Scott.

On Monday he went back to the Capital Grille. The same seat at the bar, where Josh the bartender always knew how to look after him. It felt less lonely this time, somehow. Like Luke was alone, but not alone. The memory and spirit of Scott was there. Luke smiled as he ordered a scotch, neat.

"Hey buddy," Luke could almost hear in Scott's mellow, refined tenor voice.

Only it wasn't his imagination. A hand clasped his delt muscle beneath the blazer and there was the 6'3" executive in the flesh. A navy suit instead of charcoal, but still very much dressed for the C-suite and looking like a million bucks. "Is this seat free?"

"God yeah," Carlson beamed, maybe a little too eager. But fuck it. Scott didn't seem to mind, pulling up the spare stool and sitting down.

"Quiet here on a Monday, huh?" he said as he flagged Josh down for a drink.

"Pretty much. Out on a school night, Scott?" Luke asked playfully.

The banker grinned. "Not ready to go back to a quiet house. And a steak dinner sure beats whatever microwave meal I was gonna have."

Luke laughed. It was like they were picking up right where they left off. Small talk, friendly banter, lots of eye contact, some light touching and bumping of the knees.

And their conversations went deeper. Scott showed Luke pictures of his kids. "Julie's at Williams... Mike's a freshman at Stanford, pretty good at soccer, too," the Exec beamed proudly.

"Impressive, man." Luke enthused.

Scott smiled but nudged Carlson's elbow. "You don't gotta be impressed. Mr. Pro Bowler..."

Luke blushed. "You must think I'm an asshole."

Scott shook his head. "Nah, just successful. I admire that."

"Thanks, Scott," Luke said. God it was hard to keep his eye contact from meeting the man's gaze directly. But the way the Exec was looking at him drove him wild. No longer mere butterflies, Luke was feeling some major wood in his trousers. "You give off that successful vibe yourself."

"I do huh, buddy?" Scott was definitely teasing him now. "What's your guess?"

Luke took a second to look the man up in down. Hot as fuck in his mid 50s and had the kind of expensive suit to show it all off. The blue brought out the dark-specked gray hair and those brown eyes. "I'm thinking.... definitely banking... upper executive.... maybe BofA...?"

Scott grinned. "Pretty good guess... Chief Operating Officer."

"Impressive," Luke said sincerely. Carlson was well to do in his own right and most NFLers wouldn't find a bank executive a particularly interesting profession. But Luke admired men who were successful in business - and since his BC days had admired the men sexually too.

"Thanks, buddy," Scott said as he took a sip of scotch. "I keep saying I'm gonna take an early retirement, but..." he lowers his voice as if sharing a secret. "Between you and me the money is too fucking good."

Luke laughed. Then his mood got a little more serious. He didn't want to kill the fun vibe but he craved to know more about Scott. "So, personal question, man, and you don't have to answer. But how long you been divorced?"

Scott had his easygoing manner. He was good at talking to people, with people. "I don't mind, bud. It'll be 10 years in May. Wife caught me fucking an intern."

Luke blushed. The devout Catholic part of him wasn't crazy when men didn't take their family and vow seriously. On the other hand, Luke had his own complicated situation. Besides, he was a man who was used to crude talk - in the locker room, on hunting trips, or wherever. "Was she worth it at least?" he asked in a conspiratorial kind of way.

Scott grinned. "HE was worth it, believe me. Princeton lacrosse player and built like one..." he stopped himself before his talk got lewd. "I mean, not worth hurting Kate or my kids, but I guess I had to own up to some stuff about myself, you know?"

"Yeah," Luke replied. A little too empathetically.

"My turn for a personal question," Scott asked, his brown eyes twinkling. "And you don't have to anwser... but you're married, right? Why are you having your dinners here instead of at home?"

Luke almost made up a lie. Like he usually did. Instead he decided to be honest with Scott. "Sharon and I... well, we've kind of separated." Luke sighed. "I mean, she's super Catholic and so am I, so we don't believe in divorce or anything, and there are the kids... I love them to death, you know."

This is the last thing Luke wanted to do. To spill his guts. To seem like an emotional mess with this perfect man.

Scott just patted his back. "I get it buddy. And good on you for being there for your kids. That takes guts, man." That hand rubbed small circles along Luke's broad back.

"Thanks, Scott," Luke grinned gamely.

Scott gave another reassuring grin then ordered a second scotch.

Josh came over with a new three-quarters-inch filled rocks glass without the ice, and it occurred to Luke that the two men had paused the conversation the whole minute it took. Finally, as the bartender walked away, Scott spoke again. "It's funny, when I was younger, everything was black and white. I knew what I wanted in life and how I was gonna get it."

Luke felt a strange empathy, even if he didn't follow exactly. "You don't now?" he asked.

Scott thought for a second and added, "I do for some things. At work, I don't have anything to prove really, and I know how to run a business. I'm good at it and I reap the benefits."

"But..." Luke prodded.

Scott grinned, realizing he'd been caught in some ambivalence. "No matter how many Princeton interns you fuck, that won't fill that hole for something more, you know?" He looked at Luke with a look that was suggestive but vulnerable.

"Tell me if I'm out of line, Scott. But I can't think of anything I'd rather do tonight than be your intern."

"Fuck!" Scott whispered, in almost a grunt.

"Did I say the wrong thing?" Luke asked nervously. He was a 30-year-old pro bowler goddamnit, why did he feel like a kid asking a girl out to prom?

The exec shook his head and smiled. "The opposite, man. It's just..." he lowered his voice. "You gave me a huge fucking boner just now."

Luke laughed. He loved the man's easygoing attitude to sex. Like Scott had been around the block and didn't have time for bull shit.

"Um... I'd say me, too, Scott. Only I've had one the last ten minutes." Luke blushed but not too shyly leaned back in his bar stool and spread his thick thighs to show off the ridge of ex-tight end cock riding up into a solid ridge in his trousers. "Guess all that intern talk got me worked up."

Scott grinned and chuckled, taking in Luke's handsome, chiseled face before facing his drink and running his thumb nervously around the glass rim. "I'm pinching myself here buddy."

That was the first misgiving Luke had. He wasn't angling for more groupie sex, but he had to admit it was probably unavoidable. And if his pro-jock celebrity status was what got a successful business daddy like Scott interested in him, so be it

The 55 year old looked back up with a twinkle in his brown eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but I've stroked a couple loads out thinking of you."

"Yeah?" Luke felt flattered and excited. And more than a little happy the man had been doing what he'd been doing on his own, too.

Scott nodded in a conspiratorial way. "Like I say, my house gets lonely sometimes."

"I find it hard to believe you couldn't line up who you wanted," Luke assured him. "I mean, if I..." he stopped himself.

Scott chuckled. Their scotch was half drunk but he was rock hard in his suit. "Let's get out of here, man."

"Yeah," Luke gasped, mad that his horniness and crushed-out excitement was almost keeping his words from forming.

He pulled out his wallet, but Scott placed a hand on his forearm to stop him. "My treat, buddy." He fished out a few twenties and tossed them on the bar, giving bartender Josh a wave of thanks.

The Charlotte air was warm for September as they stepped out of the steak house. "Your place or mine?" Scott asked. Again no bullshit. Luke liked that.

"Either's good. But I haven't had a dude back to my place in ages. Kind of miss it."

Scott nodded and nudged Luke's blazered elbow. "Yours it is, then, buddy.... will be cool to see how a pro bowler lives."

Luke was really warming up to the hero worship, maybe because with Scott it felt playful rather than needy. And in a way, he saw the exec as a peer, a successful man in his own right. Luke offered his car service and soon the two were getting into a sleek black Mercedes.

"I half expected a mansion," Scott grinned as they got to Luke's house. Carlson almost objected with a running account of the square footage and number of rooms his house had, but he realized then the exec was just teasing him, almost goading him into bragging. He had to laugh defensively.

The vibe when they got indoors was surprisingly easy. It was like riding a bike to Luke, stepping up to a hot daddy, softly gripping him by the mid section and pulling him in for a kiss. The man's suited erection felt hard against Luke's and the ex-athlete realized that Scott Monahan was pretty hung.

He couldn't help it. Luke humped his hips against the man as they made out. The executive had a big goofy grin as he broke the kiss and pulled back to look at Carlson's 230 pound stud build. Slowly, he helped Luke take off the blazer and openly admired the muscle filling out the dress shirt with his more slender but strong hands.

"Fucking nice, buddy," the 55-year-old growled, his brown eyes sweeping up to meet Luke's in a heavy gaze.

Carlson meanwhile admired every bit of Scott's 6'3" body. Not a pro athlete build, but the ex-linebacker didn't care. The exec was really fucking fit and the tailored suit only made the middle-aged build look even more perfect.

"Shit," Luke gasped.

"What?" Scott laughed, getting used to the idea Luke fucking Carlson would be so into him.

The ex-jock sighed and had to spread his legs to let his boner ride up in his trousers. "I can't decide if I want a nice slow session or if I want you to ravage me."

Scott's nostrils flared and the side of his mouth curled up in a half grin. "How bout this buddy? Whatever you pick, we do the other one next time."

"Think you can go easy with just a spit job?" Luke grunted. "It's been a while since I've done that."

The older man nodded. "You call the play, I'll run it." He started removing his suit coat, but Luke stopped.

"Leave it on," he interjected. Then feeling he was too pushy, changed his tone. "Please man."

Scott grinned and made a show of feeling up his suit lapel. "Buddy if this is what gets me into your hot ass..." He stepped up closer and claimed another kiss from Luke, reaching down to grip those amazing steely, beefy buns before moving his hands to the front to help Luke undo the belt and zipper.

That footballer dick was rock hard and thick and dripping clear sap onto Scott's hands and he felt it up. Truth be told, if Luke Carlson had made a move to fuck him, Scott probably would have gone against his top-only policy. Maybe that would happen next time, or time after next. Cause the banker had a good idea there was gonna be a next time, and more. There was just too much clear chemistry between the men.

But he didn't belabor the jerking stroke on that Carlson cock. Scott leg go and gave a soft pat to Luke's hips as a signal. The athlete moaned into the man's mouth and broke the kiss, looking him deep in the eyes before turning around and pulling down his trousers mid thigh.

Monahan crouched down. He ran his hands up the outside of those tree trunk thighs and wondered how he was so lucky. Before him was the roundest hardest ass he could imagine. Ready for him. Gone was any memory of prior men from his head. Even that Princeton intern couldn't hold a candle.

Hungry now, Scott nudged his face into that warm cleft and started rooting deeper, till he could lick Luke's soft, crinkled hole. Instinctively Scott knew Carlson was no stranger to bottoming for other men. But that ring was tight as a drum, almost virgin tight. It had been a while for Luke.

Luke's thick tool was almost pressed against his rippled belly, he was so turned on. He leaned forward, bracing his meaty upper body against the granite countertop as he got eaten out by a master. Carlson wasn't surprised this businessman was good at eating ass, but he was taken aback by how fucking good Scott was. It was technique, to be sure, but also hunger. The way the tongue varied its approach, the way the man seemed so abandoned to munch Luke's pucker....

He felt a gentle pat to his bare rump then knew Scott was standing up behind him. That executive cock was dripping a good amount and between the precum and the spit, Carlson felt good and wet for penetration.

"Ravage, huh?" Scott teased.

And all of a sudden Luke felt fingers grip his waist tightly and that daddy dick pressure its way in.

"Fuck!" Luke grunted as several inches of Scott pushed in.

"You got this," Scott assured him. His right hand rand up Luke's muscled back before coming back to its prior grip. "Ready for more?" he asked as he watched Luke's breathing return to normal.

"Yeah," the ex-linebacker said plainly.

This time everything felt amazing. Scott's girth, and more and more of his length, the sheer hardness of a man who loved to tap ass and was getting the fuck of his lifetime. Luke felt fuller and fuller, and with that sensation came the psychological thrill that he was getting taken. By an older, more experienced man. By a man old enough to be his father.

The balls pressed lightly against those creamy white buns, for a second. Then Scott pulled back.

"Fuck me, man," Luke urged, no longer embarrassed by his own need. It had been too long.

Scott Monahan was already doing just that. Deep steady strokes. The fingers growing tighter as they rode up Luke's obliques for leverage. "Jesus fucking Christ, you're tight," he growled in a voice that said it probably wouldn't take long to cum.

Luke reached down to his own neglected dick. It was slick with his own clear sap and he started working it up and down in time to the executive's hard thrusts.

"Harder, man," Luke urged. He was in the zone where he could take it.

"Fuck," Scott hissed and those hips worked faster. That hard prick pistoning faster in and out of Luke's hole.

He was hitting that spot, all right. Like that dick was made to get me off, Luke thought. The retired athlete looked up into the window. He probably should have pulled the blinds or something, but thankfully the view wasn't in the neighbor's sightline.

Good thing, because in the reflection, he saw his meaty body leaning over, bracing himself while his fucker, fully dressed in his expensive suit, railed his ass.

That vision did it. Luke came, firing onto the side of the island.

"Goddamn... here it comes buddy..." he heard Scott's urgent voice, cracking with orgasm. Then that heavy, surprisingly big dick inside Luke grew slick with seed. A lot of it. And it kept coming. It had been a long time for Scott Monahan, too.

They paused a second and Luke leaned up into Scott's embrace and soft, appreciative kisses along the corded neck.

"That was amazing, buddy," the exec whispered in Luke's ear.

He gave another appreciative pat on Luke's side and slowly withdrew. Luke played host and offered him some paper towels to wipe off as Luke did his best to wipe the spermed up crack.

"You gotta go?" Luke asked as he pulled his trousers back up over his rump. He tried not to let his emotion show through. Maybe this was groupie sex like so many times before.

The middle-aged man tucked back in, his dong still heavy but shrinking with post-release satisfaction. "Fraid so, buddy.... you know, school night and all."

"Yeah," Luke conceded. "I'll order you a car." He texted something on his phone, then after a second looked up. "They should be here in ten minutes."

The man zipped and stepped up to run his fingers along Luke's square chin. "I meant what I said earlier, man. We'll take our time the next time around... maybe a date if you're free this weekend?"

Those butterflies returned to Luke Carlson's stomach. But the defenses were hard to shake. Scott read his mind.

"We'll keep it low key, man," he assured Luke. "Kind of more my speed anyway."

"Honestly? I don't know that I can wait till the weekend," Luke said. Putting it out there.

Scott grinned and stepped back. "To tell the truth, I probably won't be able to either, man."

Luke chuckled and took a second to feel the man's shoulder though the suit fabric. He knew Scott was fit, but that delt muscle felt solid, more solid than Luke expected. "You better go, or there's gonna be more ravaging going on," he growled.

Scott laughed. "Yeah."

Luke walked him to the door and the two met for a soft kiss at the door.

Then Scott pulled back and stepped out the door into the night, giving one last wave just as the black car was pulling up.