Although this story continues the relationship between Pook and Pete, the two characters in CrossFit Competitors, it's really a story in and of itself. For that reason I chose to make it its own story with its own title. Like CrossFit Competitors, if you like raw sex by the second paragraph, move on; this story isn't for you. But if you like to get inside the heads of two driven athletes who take their relationship--and sexual life--to an unexpected place, I think you'll enjoy this story.
Pete and Pook are real people. I'm Pete, and while Pook's name has been changed for this story, he's every bit as real. This story is inspired by real events and while some of the scenes may be slightly embellished by my active imagination, Pook has read it and approved it. He agrees the sentiments are real.
One of the greatest gifts you can give a writer is feedback. I urge you to share your reactions, good or bad, to this story. It's how we learn and get better, so we can keep writing. Feedback from you is our fuel. Please reach out with yours to psorenson@hotmail.com.
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, immediately after we finished our Friday 6AM CrossFit class on the Friday before Labor Day weekend, 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, which I had just joined. Pook came on to me in a way I couldn't figure out. Here was this chiseled, drop-dead gorgeous athlete in his late 20s. Me? A 50-something, highly successful executive and pretty impressive specimen myself. We'd partner up so routinely for all the partner WODs (workouts-of-the-day) that I wondered if people figured 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 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.
This 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.
That would be me.
I stepped right up to him, aggressively embraced 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 CrossFit 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 the point of wanting to extract sweet 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 to me to fuck him. His decision was for me to have my way with him for 60 straight minutes, 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 studly, competitive athlete with animal instincts 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 a completely 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 Daddy. Give me your seed Daddy."
I always thought that "Daddy" was porn-language nonsense. Yeah, some of us shout it out occasionally. But this was different. I was giving Pook something he'd never had before. My cock had reached a place inside him that had never been touched before. He was being moved to a destination he had never been before.
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 had fallen 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 the fuck had happened. While the beautiful 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 or literature, 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 workout 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 and 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, late 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 grey, neatly trimmed hair, advertises how much I can bench press. And while I'm proud of my chest, but 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. He 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 will 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 have it so far up him he screams 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.
Then, unbelievably, he says, "Good morning Daddy. There's something I was going to tell you yesterday."
Could it be that 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."
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/sub stories where the dom 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 he'll get whipped if he doesn't behave. 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, including 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 experienced something I've never have before."
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 with you. Just spill it."
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. I wanted us to be equals when I told him what I was going to tell him, but 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 Boy," 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 found out they like to have sex 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 more extreme than his. 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 filled with tears. He became overwhelmed with emotion and couldn't speak a word. 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 a 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 a very, very 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.
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