Pook and Pete

Chapter 1

I had no idea what hit me.  Here I lay in bed, early in the morning, after the most incredible night of sex with Pook, a rock-hard CrossFit athlete. Both of us nude, covered in delightfully dried sweat, cum, and who-knows-what else. How did we get here?  Less than 24 hours ago, after we finished our Friday 6AM CrossFit class, I found the courage to invite Pook over for a beer that evening.  For the past few months, he and I had been engaged in a subtle but increasingly homoerotic mating dance at CrossFit 612. Pook came on to me in a way I couldn’t figure out. He was a chiseled, handsome young athlete in his late 20s. Me? A 50-something, successful executive and pretty impressive specimen myself.  We’d partner up so routinely for all the partner workouts that I wondered if people assumed we were a CrossFit couple.  Very strange in that while Pook was openly gay, I was more discreet; I don’t think anyone knew, or cared, if I was gay. But it was impossible for me to ignore his attention. On one hand, it was entirely fraternal; little occurred that would be considered overtly sexual.  But now as I reflect on it, there had been increasing man-on-man banter that exceeded natural bro-speak.  The suggestive slaps on the ass, the snapping of the jockstraps, the catcalls to “get your ass deeper” on the squats, the comments about my sexy pipes. Any or all of them could be interpreted as nothing more than brotherly encouragement to dig deeper. But with Pook, there seemed to be more.

Yesterday morning’s testosterone-charged workout led me to just say “fuck it” and invite him over to my place that evening (last night) for a beer, not having any idea what I’d do when he got there. That was 24 hours ago but now it seems like a lifetime. By the time he arrived, I had created an intense sexual competition for the two of us, should I successfully seduce him. Things moved even faster than I could’ve hoped and before I knew it, we were standing face-to-face like two macho gunslingers, in nothing but our sweat soaked jockstraps, seeing who would make the next move.  

It was me.  

I stepped up to him and deeply French kissed him while I ground my jockstrap-covered bulge into his. Next, I ordered him to my bedroom and laid out the rules for the competition I had created. We were both used to demanding, spirited CrossFit competitions. This would be no different. 

Here were the rules: I would go first and have complete control of him for 90 minutes.  He would submit; my goal was to make him cum. The next 90 minutes, he would dominate, I would submit, with the goal of him making me cum.  Whoever of the two of us could make it the 90 minutes without cumming would win.  

Fierce, competitive, and driven by testosterone.  

But, like life, it didn’t end up that way.

For the first 90 minutes I had my way with Pook, and like the competitor he was, he was tough. I edged him relentlessly, but he held out and made it through without gushing his creamy load.

When it was Pook’s turn, he edged me for the first 30 minutes using every terrifying toy he could find in my stash. While it was an electrically charged 30 minutes, both literally and figuratively, I held on as well.  

But he surprised me with how he chose to spend his last hour. I had intentionally manhandled him in my session to enrage him to want to extract revenge on me when it was his turn. I had fantasized about being at his mercy.  But he stunned me when he turned over his last 60 minutes for me to fuck him, without interruption.  But there was a catch: If either of us came, or I accidentally withdrew, he would get to sound my cock. He was an intuitive guy in that he somehow knew I had absolutely no interest in being sounded by Pook or anyone for that matter. I was highly motivated to not let that happen.

Surprise, surprise. Pook, my sexually provocative, competitive athletic adversary wanted nothing more than to be fucked. He still had 60 minutes left in our competition to abuse me however he wanted. But he begged me to fuck him. 

Although I had fantasized before tonight about him manhandling me, I was thrilled with his decision.  This kid was special, and I was only learning how special that night. I decided to be as strategic about the 60 minute fuck as I would be about the grueling CrossFit workouts that require similar levels of endurance.  I carefully divided the 60 minutes into four 15 minute intervals to maximize my pleasure, but do it without cumming. The first 15 minutes would be doggy style. I rhythmically thrusted into him while distracting myself by concentrating on his stunning, V-shaped back, narrow waist, and fantastically round and firm ass cheeks. The second 15 minutes we fucked while we spooned.  This gave me a chance to synchronize my penetrations while jacking him off simultaneously.  The third 15 minutes was me on my back with him squatting over me.  The sight of his hairless, virile torso squatting over me was so breathtaking I made him use my tit clamps on me to take my mind off my cock. It was misery, but it was sublime.

The last 15 minutes. The last 15 minutes took us both to a place I’ve never been before.  The last 15 minutes was me, missionary style over him, staring him in the eyes, achieving total ownership. And that’s when it happened.

 I’ve always thought the missionary position was under-rated.  The top, me in this case, has complete domination over the bottom, in this case, Pook. And I found that controlling Puke was an unexpected turn-on for me. And Pook’s submission to me seemed to be equally pornographic for him.  I was the victor and he was the vanquished. I was the conqueror, he was the conquered.  I owned him, he was owned.  And just at this point during our night of debauchery, something happened I never some coming. 

“DADDY” he screamed. Over and over and over.  “Daddy, please fuck me. Breed me, Daddy, breed me.”  

I always thought that “daddy” was porn-language nonsense. Yeah, some of us shout it out occasionally. But this was different. I gave Pook something he’d never had. My cock reached a place inside him that had never been touched. I moved him to a destination he had never experienced.  

But it wasn’t just Pook. I was in over-drive as well. I’ve fucked a lot of men in my life, and nothing affected me the way this did. The tip of my cock was so deep in him I felt we were as one. I wanted to pound him with an intensity that could be considered inhuman, but at the same time protect him from all the evil in world. My sexual urgency with him was unprecedented, yet so was my desire to take care of him, keep him safe.  The two feelings, occurring simultaneously were in conflict. Together they didn’t make any sense, yet that’s the way I felt.  

It all came down to one word: “Daddy”. He roared it when my cock couldn’t have been deeper in his gut and it hit me like a thunderbolt. It was electric. We both knew it. I hit a spot in him that was both physical and emotional, and his instinctive response was “Daddy”. 

I was too delirious in the moment understand it, but now I’ve had a long evening to reflect on it and it was as clear as day to me.

After we had finished this earth-shattering sex, Pook almost immediately fell asleep next to me.  His face was buried in my hairy chest, he was embraced in my meaty arms, and he was sleeping soundly. He was spent. I had outlasted the man-of-steel CrossFit athlete.  

This gave me the time I needed to figure out what had happened. While the handsome athlete slept contentedly in my arms, everything became clear to me. I was his daddy. He was my boy.

No one was more surprised by this turn of events than me. When I’ve come across daddy/boy relationships in porn, I’d been indifferent, at best.  They felt like contrived scenarios to tell a sexual story.  And more to the point, the “boy” in the story is nearly always a twink, and I have zero interest in twinks.  Nothing against them (to each their own), but I work out aggressively 2-3 hours a day to get the body I have. And that’s what I want from my sexual partner. 

And that’s exactly what Pook is. Although he’s over 20 years younger than me, he’s the opposite of a twink.  He’s around 6’1”, probably 200+ pounds of pure muscle, and no more than 10% body fat. Each tendon and muscle is perfectly defined under the smooth skin that’s stretched across his hard frame.  His shoulders are as wide and round as a football player’s pads, his smooth pecs and abs are perfectly defined. He has a trim waist that begs you to fantasize about what’s just below his waistband. And his legs are like perfectly sized tree trunks that look powerful enough to push a car up a hill.  The only similarity between Pook and a twink is that Pook is completely shaved. Head, pubes, balls, asshole, legs, everything.  Before last night, I didn’t know what a turn-on smooth skin could be. I thought I was into hairy guys, like myself. But his 8+” cock looks so unbelievably beautiful against his smooth, muscled pubic area that your jaw drops in awe.  

And me? How do I stack up to typical “daddy” I ask myself.

I’m as different from a stereotypical “daddy” as Pook is from a twink. While I certainly fit the age bracket, mid-50s, that’s where it ends. It’s awkward to physically describe yourself, but I’ll  just leave it at I’m in about as good of shape as anyone my age can be. Full head of hair which is now nearly down to my shoulders (surprising because I’m the CEO of a major company) and grey stubble.  I’ve had friends say that if Richard Branson and Eric Clapton had a baby, it would be me. My thick chest, covered in neatly trimmed grey hair, advertises my bench press.  And while I’m proud of my chest, I’m even more pleased with my arms. They’re beautifully muscled and have been the subject of Pook’s leering during CrossFit. The first time I wore a muscle tank he saw me and yelled, ”Look at the pipes on Pete!”. I acted embarrassed but secretly loved the attention. The rest of my body is fine (again, for someone my age).  And then there’s my cock.  While not overly long, my cock is insanely thick. And when he experienced it last night, he was shocked.  Even though I had his hole nicely stretched before I speared him for our last 60 minutes, he didn’t know what was coming.  When I entered him the first time, I went as slow as possible, but he still gasped with equal parts pleasure and pain.  The first position was doggy style so I couldn’t see his face, but between the panting, sweating, groaning, and arching his back for more, I know he’d never experienced a cock quite like mine. It gave me immense pleasure to teach a youngster like Pook real man-sex.  And that’s what may have started this daddy/boy fantasy I’m having now.

But is it fantasy?  Is last night’s testosterone still pumping through my body causing me to hallucinate?  I haven’t slept one minute all night.  I’ve done nothing but reflect and consider on this strange turn of events.  Meanwhile, Pook has slept like a baby, with his body covering mine like a blanket. He’s starting to stir and I’ll have to share what I’m thinking with him.  It’s hit me too hard to let it go. If he thinks last night was just a one-nighter, so be it. But I’m smitten in a way that I’ve never been before.

Because he’s asleep, his soft cock is pressed nicely against my skin. But I’m even harder than I was last night if that’s to be believed. The mere recollection of our last few minutes of sex, him pouring his heart out screaming “Daddy” as I fucked him, has turned my dick into concrete.  

When he wakes up and feels my hard cock, he may interpret it as my signal to go another round. That’s to be expected. But I want him to know that my cock is hard for a reason beyond my self-indulgent desire to fuck the hot nude man I’ve woken up next to. My cock is  hard because I want to protect him and cherish him, but at the same time fuck him so hard he begs for mercy.

He stirs again. Shuffles a little against my body, looks up to me and gives me an adorable smile that makes my heart melt.

I’m mute. There are no words.

He looks up to me and says, smilingly, “Good morning, Daddy.”

“Good morning, handsome”, I reply with a squeeze.

He then surprises me with this, “There’s something I was going to tell you yesterday.”

Is he going to tell me he feels the same way?  

“What is it, Pook?” I reply.

“Today’s a special day”, he says. 

Sure is, I’m thinking.  

“Today’s my birthday.  Today I’m 30.  Today I’m a man”, he said with a smile.

The irony of this hits me like a ton of bricks. I’ve just spent the last several hours, alone in the dark, coming to terms with the fact that I wanted this Olympic specimen to be my boy. And the first words out of his mouth are “Today I’m a man.”

My only option is to be honest.  I’m so invested in him by now, I can’t have him any way than the way I want him. My boy.

Another element of Daddy/Boy relationships in porn is that weirdly creepy control thing.  I love kink as much as the next guy (probably more as demonstrated by the toys in my toybox last night), but I’m not interested in those controlling dom stories where he turns the sub into a human ashtray.  I want a young man who loves and respects me for my experience and intellect, not because he’s afraid of getting whipped.  He recognizes how he can benefit from my life experience and agrees to submit to it.  He knows I’ll control many aspects of our life together, especially our sex life, but it’ll be based on the authority and respect I’ve earned from him.  

I have to tell him he’s my boy.  But what if he thinks I’m talking about chastity cages and whipping posts?  That’s so not what this is about.

I replied, “Happy birthday Pook! Why didn’t you tell me yesterday? I would’ve worked harder to make last night more special.” I was curious to see if he’d get my humor. Last night couldn’t been more special.

He didn’t quite get the humor, but he sure got the point, “Pete, last night couldn’t have been more special. I’ve never experienced anything…quite…like…it.” I could tell he was struggling to find the right words.

I pulled him even closer to me now, if that was possible. He looked up into my eyes quizzically.

“Pook, there’s something I need to share with you.  Something happened last night while we were making love that changed the way I feel about you.  For me, it’s a change for the better. But I can’t speak for you.”

Our gaze was fixed. He was staring intently into my eyes.  His eyes conveyed hope, desire, and pleading. Then I felt his hand slowly move to my still rock hard cock, tenderly wrap his fingers around it, followed by an ever-so-gentle squeeze. I interpreted him to be signaling that he’d go with me wherever I wanted to take us. But when I told him what I was thinking, what if he thought I was one of those daddy-weirdos who wanted him on a leash with a tail sticking out of his ass? He’d probably get out of there so fast I’d never have the chance to explain.  

“Tell me Pete. I’ve never had a night like last night either.  Tell me what’s changed.  Just spill it”, he insisted.

I slowly lifted him off me and positioned the two of us so we were laying on our sides, face-to-face, my hand reaching across the void touching his cheek.  Then I lowered my hand from his face to one of his nipples and squeezed it with enough intensity to signal ‘I’m in control, but I won’t hurt you’.

Happily, he closed his eyes and sighed with a contentment that spoke volumes.

My tongue was tied. I couldn’t speak. I varied the intensity of the nip squeeze and studied his response.  It was pure delight. But the silence was getting awkward. Finally, he said, “Pete, tell me what it is.”

“Open your eyes Pook,” I commanded.

His eyes popped open with a mix of surprise and longing.

My intention was to tell him this, face to face, laying side-by-side. I wanted the discussion to be straightforward and rational. No drama; just two guys who discovered how much they like having sex with each other, talking about where they want to take their relationship. But sometimes our actions aren’t dictated by our brains.  Sometimes we’re victims of our hearts.  And our cocks.

I jumped up and climbed directly over him, rolled him on his back and straddled him with both knees at waist level. Given the stiffness of my cock and the abruptness of my move, I’m sure he thought I was about to face-fuck him.  Anything but.

I put my hands on his shoulders, leaned down a few inches from him and barked,  “Look Pook, here’s how this is going down.  You will be my boy from now on.  If that’s not how you see it, that’s fine. But if we’re taking this relationship beyond where we were until last night, I’m your daddy and you’re my boy. Take it or leave it.”

I paused to gauge his reaction. His first reaction was being stunned. Upon processing what I said, my guess was that he was delighted, but was quickly assessing whether my level of kink was too extreme.  This was happening fast and he needed to think…fast.  Sensing this, I quickly explained that I wasn’t into a relationship where he’d clean my house naked and slurp water out of dog’s bowl. What I was interested in, what I would demand if we were to continue, was a relationship built on mutual respect in which he’d learn from my experience, and I’d learn from his youthful outlook.  In the gym, we’d still be fierce competitors. But everywhere else, I would be in control.  I’d call the shots.

I got my reply.

His eyes became watery. He didn’t speak for what seemed like an eternity.  Finally, with tears covering his cheeks and snot dripping from his nose, he sobbed “Daddy, that’s exactly how I’ve seen you all this time.  It’s what I’ve dreamt about!”

Could this be happening? How did I miss this? How did I not know? Twenty-four hours ago, we were a couple of CrossFit buddies, albeit with raw, underlying sexual energy. Now, he’s sobbing my arms reacting to my commitment to him.

I was speechless.  I’m slightly embarrassed to share this, but I got teary as well. My heart was bursting. All I could muster was an emphatic, “Oh, my boy, my boy.”

Our faces spontaneously came together, and we kissed with a passion that, even after a night of firsts, seemed unequalled anytime in my life before this.  There was so much bodily fluid in that kiss…. tears, saliva, sweat, leftover cum, and, yes, snot, that we could’ve drowned. But if we did drown, I would have left this earth an extraordinarily happy man. 

The kiss went on for what seemed like forever, and I still didn’t want it to stop. But I was in control now, so it was now up to me to take charge. When it was time, I pulled back, looked him in the eye, and said nothing.   

I picked him up by the shoulders and slid under him on my back so we were back to where we started, him nestled into me with his head resting on my chest. I thought to myself, I love it when my boy rests on me like this. I don’t ever want to move.

Finally, I said, “Pook, today’s your 30th birthday. Today you are a man.  Given what I just told you, do you see the irony in that?”

“Yes, and no”, he replied. He explained that while he was, indeed, 30 today, that a big part of his infatuation with me was the appeal of my maturity. He told me how much he had admired me and wondered if he’d ever achieve my level of success and self-assuredness. Without hesitation he went on to say that he had always secretly worshiped me; and that now he’d be honored for me to take him under my wing.  “I need you to make me the man I know can be, Daddy,” he finished. 

Damn this kid is good.

The last hour had been wildly emotional with each of our admissions of admiration, love, and mutual worship, but I was still a man.  A man with a cock that was ready to explode.  

I looked in his eyes, then down to my cock, then back at him and said, “Speaking of worship, boy, there’s a cock that needs some worship.  Badly.”

He leered down to my cock and answered, “Hell yeah, Daddy” and dropped down to my crotch with the speed of light.  He couldn’t get my cock into his mouth fast enough or deep enough and devoured it like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.  He was like a starving animal.

The good news about sex when you’re older is that when you have sex more frequently it takes longer to cum. I was hard as a rock, but because I had shot a month’s worth of cum last night, it’ll take me awhile to manufacture more to for Pook now. And that’s a good problem to have.

“Take your time, Pook,” I instructed. With his mouth filled with my cock, he tried to reply, “Yes Daddy.” But his mouth was so full he was unintelligible.

He worked my cock for what seemed like forever.  I honestly didn’t know what I was enjoying more…. the feeling of my cock being sucked by a human vacuum cleaner, my clear dominance over him, or witnessing the bliss he was experiencing worshiping my cock.  It may have been all three.

When he felt I might be getting close, he’d circle the base of my cock with his thumb and middle finger and squeeze. Good move, boy, I thought.  It worked every time.

One time while doing that, he looked up at me, looked at my engorged piss slit, looked back at me, back at my piss slit, and back at me. I knew what he was signaling but it was something I had little interest in.  With this daddy/boy thing, I was asking him to go to an unknown place with me; it now seemed I would have to do the same for him. I gave him a subtle, but unmistakable nod to proceed. He had my circumcised mushroom head so pulled apart, that my piss slit resembled the Grand Canyon.  I’ve never had much interest in anything going up that tube (as evidenced by his threat of sounding me last night), but he had me into such a state of sexual frenzy that I surrendered. He leaned over and gently placed the tip of his tongue into my wide open slit, and then wagged it back and forth into and over it. There isn’t a word to describe my pleasure. The nerve endings inside a piss slit aren’t meant to be touched by anything but piss and cum. So when my young stud’s tongue finds its way in there, all bets are off.  I stopped breathing.  I couldn’t even groan.  I probably made sounds never heard by a human being before.  

I looked down at him and he had a devilish grin on his face. “You like, Daddy?” was all he said. He’d obviously done this before.  Despite my euphoria, I found the strength to smile and nod ever so slightly. Every other bit of energy in my body had surrendered to the unspeakable pleasure emanating from the tip of my dick.

When I couldn’t take it any longer, I whimpered out a noise to signal it was time to move on. At the same time, I noticed that he was jerking himself off while working my cock. Pretending to be angry, I leaned down, slapped his hand away and looked at him sternly.  Although I surprised him, I think he was secretly pleased I continued to assert control.  I let him know I was serious, “Pook, you cum when I say you can.”

His body seemed to deflate into me. He took my entire cock back in his mouth and curled up into me relaxing like he wanted to spend the rest of his life there. I let him stay like that for a long time because the scene was so fucking hot. My boy, worshiping my still hard cock. Me slowly thrusting it in and out of his willing mouth. 

Then he picked up the pace. He’d start at my taint, lick up my balls, lick up and down my cock, circle the tip with his tongue, tease my piss slit again, and start all over.

When I finally sensed that my time was coming, I flipped him on his back, straddled him on either side of his head, and roughly slapped his face with my cock. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, hoping I’d face fuck him, but I was torn.  A forceful face fuck would be a no brainer, but I wanted to make sure we had plenty of cum to enjoy afterward. If I came down his throat, all my creamy glory would be wasted.

By now his face was dripping wet with his saliva from my cock. It was so slick that rubbing my cock across his willing face alone was getting me there fast; faster than I would like. The pressure from inside my cock was ready to explode; there was no turning back.  I took my cock in my right hand and gave it the last few needed tugs to take me to completion. Pook now had his eyes and mouth wide open looking like a baby bird waiting to be fed. And did he get fed.  I aimed my cock into his face so he got the full brunt of my eruption.  I didn’t want to waste a drop on the sheets or headboard. Blast, blast, blast, blast, blast. He was gulping for cum and air; needing the cum as much as air to survive.  Blast, blast, blast. They were slowing down, but the sheer quantity of semen overwhelmed him.  Blast.  His face was covered with what resembled ropes of glue.  Wondering if he could even breath now, I quickly wiped the cum out of his nostrils and off his lips.  He knew why I did that and cautiously opened his mouth and took a breath.  I used my fingertips to wipe it off his closed eyelids.  I assured him he could now open his eyes. When he did, we gazed at each with intense affection.  I leaned down, sucked a mouthful of my cum off his cheek and lowered myself into him for a kiss.  He knew exactly what to do.  He opened his lips to suck it out of my mouth which became a long, passionate kiss. I fed him another mouthful.  Then another.  And another. Our tongues competed with one another to see who’d get the most of my cum. I think he may have won.

By this time, I was nothing but a limp blanket covering Pook. He was in heaven as well, but I couldn’t ignore his erection pressing into my stomach. It felt so fucking good, and he had to know I knew. He subtly started to thrust his cock into my body suggesting that now it was his turn. 

Under normal circumstances, there’s nothing I’d have liked more than to go down on him like he did me, suck out a quart of his cum and feast on it like we did mine. He deserved it. But there was one thing I wanted more than that, and that was to assert my control over him.

When he sensed my lack of engagement, I could feel his disappointment. After all, we had just committed to one another. He had just taken me to another intense orgasm.  We had lovingly shared my cum. Why wouldn’t I give him what he deserved? I owed him clarity on this issue, so I took it head on.

“Pook, you want to cum, don’t you?” I inquired.

“Yes Daddy, I want to feed you my cum the way you did me”.

“I want that too, but from now on, I decide when you cum, and now is not the time.  I will decide when you cum.  Is that understood?” Secretly, I also wanted him extra horned up for our next encounter, but he had no reason to know that.

Our eyes were now inches apart, me looking down, straight into his eyes. His face melted into an appreciative smile. I could tell he got off on the control I was exerting.

His reply, “Yes Daddy.  You own me now.”

Pook had slept like a baby before our discussion and the epic blow job that followed, but I hadn’t slept a wink and was dead tired.  I knew I needed sleep but I wanted to get cleaned up so I could sleep without interruption.  I suggested we both pee and go back to bed. When Pook was climbing into bed, I quietly got a bowl of warm water and a clean washcloth and brought it into the bedroom. Pook was flat on his back, still nude, with his eyes closed.  I put the water down on the bedside table and dropped the washcloth into it. I could tell he was awake, wondering what I was up to. When I pulled the washcloth out of the water and rung it out, a gentle smile spread across his face. He knew what was coming. I affectionally wiped all the layers of the gritty sex from the night before off his nude body.  Although those smells are intoxicating in the heat of sex, they’re distracting when you need to sleep.  And I knew he’d like nothing more than to fall asleep in my arms, both of us fresh, clean and content.

I used the remaining water to rinse myself off before climbing into bed with my boy.  Unsurprisingly, he assumed the position:  nestled into me with my arms cradling him, head on chest, draping over me like a blanket. He was still hard, but he was going to have to deal with that.  It didn’t seem to bother him a bit. We were both so physically exhausted and emotionally content that I think it must’ve been less than a minute before we were both fast asleep.

The next thing I knew it was 10:30 AM. Bright sunshine was pouring through the window and Minneapolis was alive with late summertime activity. It was the Saturday of Labor Day weekend.  Yesterday had a month’s worth of activity jammed into it.  First the fateful CrossFit class where I summoned the courage to invite Pook to my place to seduce him. Then the sexual competition that ended with the epic fuck and hearing him cry out “Daddy” for the first time.  My sleepless night when I came to the conclusion that I was his Daddy and he was my Boy.  The confrontation when I told him that’s how it would be between us, or it wouldn’t be at all.  All concluding with his tears of joy, his worship of my cock, and my intentionally selfish denial to let him cum.

We seemed to wake up simultaneously. I jerked my head up and saw that he had just done the same. He hadn’t moved a muscle since falling asleep. Head nestled in my chest and blanketing me.  

“Good morning…..my boy”, I smiled.

He paused, trying to determine if last night was a dream or real. He was quiet at first and then a huge smile covered his face, he jumped on top of me, hugging me with an enthusiastic, “Good morning Daddy!”

We passionately caressed, kissed and ground our bodies together.  I could’ve easily gone another round on the spot, but spectacular summer days like that are rare in Minneapolis, especially this late in summer, and I didn’t want to miss it.  And I knew we’d have plenty of time to pick up where we left off soon enough.

I jumped out of bed and told him we were going to shower and walk to my favorite place for brunch.  I wanted to show him off to the world.

All he had to wear were the clothes he wore last night…his sexy tank top and slightly too tight shorts. He would be doing the walk of shame in the bright mid-day sunlight. But neither of us cared; we were overjoyed to have reached this place.

It took us no time to clean up and be out the door. I knew just where to go. There’s a trendy restaurant around the corner from me in Uptown that’s reputation for being “the morning after” destination is well deserved. It’s talked about openly. Couples that have hooked up the night before often end up there for brunch. Straights, gays, and everything in-between. I’d never been there for a “morning after” meal but had witnessed many of them.  I proudly strolled in and asked for a table for two.  There’s not much that surprises anyone in that place on a Saturday or Sunday morning, but Pook and I did. Pook was 30 and I was well into my fifties.  But neither Pook nor I could’ve cared less. We were so infatuated with each other we wanted to flaunt it.  Pook is a jaw-droppingly handsome athlete that both women and men want to fuck, so it crossed my mind that people imagined he was my escort from last night. Pook must’ve been thinking the same thing because he leaned over and said quietly, “Good thing you’re so hot, Pete, otherwise people would think you were my sugar daddy.”

I still found it a little unbelievable that Pook, who could have any man or woman in Minneapolis picked me, but I just had to let it sink in. Even though I’m a successful CEO of a major company, I’ve always suffered from an imposter complex. Am I really smart enough? Am I tough enough? Am I a good enough athlete? Am I good looking enough? Despite my success, I never believed I was.  But that may have been the key to my success.  Not adequately believing in my capabilities probably made me work harder.  But it gnawed at me. What did Pook see in me?

After we ordered, I took command.  I told Pook that the reason I wanted to have brunch, other than being starving and wanting to show him off, was to explain how this daddy/boy thing would go down. I wanted him to hear from me what I expected from him and what he should expect from me.  

“Pook,” I started, “here’s what this is about, at least from my perspective. I had no idea this thing we have was happening until you cried ‘Daddy’ as I was fucking you. I laid awake all night thinking about that while you slept, but the darkness of the night was illuminating.  I realized that we’d been a daddy and boy all along. It became clear to me that I’m already your mentor and your biggest fan.  I see your potential and am committed to helping you realize it.  I know what it takes to achieve success—you know that mine was 100% self-made—and I see that in you. And now I’ve learned that there’s a submissive side of you that takes over during sex.  I know you had fun last night trying to make me cum, but when you turned control over to me during our last 60 minutes and I claimed you, your lust for me went through the roof. I understand that now because I didn’t know that about myself. I’ve been on the receiving end of some wild sex myself and loved it. But nothing compares to last night when you surrendered to me.  And it was life-changing.

 “So what’s in it for me, besides the earth-shaking sex?” I laughed.  “While I’d be lying that the sex is mind-blowing, you give me the window back to my youth. When we compete athletically, I no longer set my goals lower because of ‘my age’.  You set the bar and challenge me to rise to it.  You don’t see me as an old guy trying to keep up.  You see me as a worthy competitor and a desirable man who you want as much as you’d want another 30 year old.  And that alone is enough for me.”

For the second time in a day, tears welled up in his eyes. He was genuinely embarrassed this time because unlike earlier, we were in public.  He said “Damn you, I haven’t cried in years and you’ve made me cry twice in one day. And on my fucking birthday, no less!”

He then smiled that huge grin of his and discreetly tried to blink away the tears.  He picked up his water and toasted me. “To us, Pete.” To which I replied, “Happy birthday, Pook.”

I went on to share my expectations from this new arrangement. While our sex would be a big part of it, we were now engaging in a partnership to which each of us would contribute, and each of us would benefit.  I got the feeling from him that the second part, our mutual character development, was as important to him as the sex.  

God I loved that kid.

After we had adequately covered that topic, he casually dropped to me that some friends of his were throwing him a birthday party that night and he’d like me to come. They had reserved a section of a rooftop bar in the trendy Uptown district not far from where we were sitting. It’s a great scene.  When I asked if I’d know anyone there, he said, “Sure, Bear, Ben, and Jack will be there.”   

“No kidding,” I replied, a little surprised. Bear, Ben and Jack were mutual friends of ours from CrossFit 612 who we work out with every morning.  I had to wonder why they were invited and I hadn’t been.  They’re all happily married to women so it couldn’t have been because they were part of his gay circle of friends. I tried not to let on, but he immediately sensed my surprise.   

“What’s wrong?” he inquired.

“Nothing,” I replied. Realizing how adolescent this was quickly becoming, I decided just to be direct. We were in such a state of bliss, I figured there wasn’t anything I couldn’t say or ask.

“Ok, I know this sounds stupid, but if Bear, Ben, and Jack were invited, why wasn’t I?” God, I felt like a teenage girl saying it, but I felt that way and genuinely wanted to know.  I honestly think it was more curiosity than disappointment.

“Dude are you kidding?” he replied. “You’re the CEO of a major corporation and I’M going to invite YOU to my birthday party?  I’d be laughed out of CrossFit.  I figured you’d probably be going to the symphony or something.  I would’ve loved you there, but inviting you just wasn’t even a possibility, you were so out of my league.”

I was out of his league? I looked around the room and was reminded that I was sitting with one of the hottest men in Minneapolis. And I was 20+ years older. Who’s out of whose league?

But that was the nature of our relationship. We both had a shitload to offer the other.  We both knew it.  We were both comfortable with it.  In fact, we both cherished it.

“Of course, I’ll come. I wouldn’t fucking miss it!” was my immediate response. If he really was inviting me, I wanted to be seen at his side at his party and beyond. There wasn’t anything that would’ve kept me away.  

Pook leaned over the table, took my face into his hands, and whispered, “I love you, Daddy.”

I whispered back, “I love you, Pook.”

I knew I’d see Ben, Bear, and Jack at the party.  I’d be partnered with Pook.  This was going to be interesting.

 End of Chapter 1