This is a true story, give or take some details. In fantasy worlds, there is no such thing as disease. We do not live in a fantasy world.
I had just turned twenty-one and had been living in Seattle for about six months. I'm a bit of a loner and had kept to myself for most of the time I had spent in rainy Washington State, sort of taking my time and admiring the beauty of the Pacific Northwest before I committed to socializing. Being Southern blood, I wasn't sure how they'd take to my accent, so I just explored the city (and Puget Sound) as opposed to hanging out. Until I decided that I wanted a drink after a long day of exploring Whidbey Island.
I went to a bar called Cuff at the suggestion of a straight male coworker. I think it was the only gay bar he knew of, but I decided to take him up on the suggestion, considering I was living in the area and it was within walking distance to my apartment and that I'm a bit of a cub, so I figured I'd go to a bear bar. I show up early and order a whiskey and ginger, my drink of choice, and snuggle into the seat at the bar. I start talking to the bartender a bit and we get fairly friendly. He says he's in a monogamous relationship, but would like to hang out at some point. I proudly give him my new, 206 Seattle area code and we continue chatting.
About midnight, after walking rounds in the bar and meeting some seemingly friendly people, I walk up to service well to order another drink when out of nowhere; I get a furry paw jerking to shake my hand.
"Hey, my name is Todd," he says, articulately, "You must be new to the city."
"I'm Ashor," I reply, a bit nervous, "and I've been here for a few months."
"How do you like it so far? Everyone treating you fairly?"
I laugh and mumble, "As well as can be expected."
We chat a bit, and after realizing we have quite a bit of interests in common, he asks me if I'd like to grab some food at a diner. I agree, and we finish our drinks, and I follow this graying daddy bear to the door.
We're chatting and shooting witty banter back and forth until we reach our destination, The Coastal Kitchen, and get a table. I didn't really get a chance to see his explicit features until I sat across the table from him, but he looked about 40, with piercing sky blue eyes and a thick beard with flecks of grey around his chin and right around the edges of his hair. He takes his coat off to reveal a thick, muscular chest, his arms covered in extensive, intricate tattooing and dark brown fur. I guess he noticed me scoping him out and starts to explain what they are. Fortunately, I could already guess the artwork. Impressed, he asks me where I'm staying, what my current situation is. I explain that I'm waiting tables downtown and am living with roommates just a bit North of the diner.
We chat through dinner and have an awesome conversation, and ending up splitting a desert. When I pull out my debit card, he flags it away. "You're going to pay me back in other ways, son." My dick twitches, and I know I can't resist this guy's charm or good looks. We head out of the diner, walking west, when he grabs my hand and we jaunt arm in arm. "Where are we goin'?" I ask, knowing the answer. And he must have known I knew it too, because we just kept walking until we were in the city center. We go into a lobby, and up to the fourth floor, to reveal an open, glass covered studio apartment. He puts his keys down, kicks his shoes off and instructs me to do the same. Following suit, we find ourselves kicking back and sinking into a plush couch. He pulls me into him, rubbing on my chest and back before pulling me into a deep, aggressive kiss.
"You're a sexy little fuck," he whispers in my ear, and the bass in his voice turns me on beyond belief. "Thank you daddy," I retort, "I think you're fucking sexy too."
"Good," he grunts, once again rubbing my chest and playing with my nipples with rough, worked hands, but slower than before, and less careful. My cock is at full attention, and having daddy on top of me, I know his thick, beer can fuck pole is as hard as steel too. He slowly takes my clothes off, sending all sorts of sensations across my body. I start to remove his shirt and as I'm sliding it over his head and putting his thick, hairy nipples into my mouth, he asks, "Are you going to be a good boy for daddy? You going to do what I say?" Many things ran through my head, namely the fact that I had never bottomed, but could only respond with "Yes sir."
I pull his pants down by his thick thighs to realize this guy had to hit the gym at least five times a week and felt a bit insecure that I had let my linebacker body go a bit flabby. I take his gorging six and a half inch, uncut cock into my mouth and slowly get it wet. "Fuck yeah, son, suck on daddy's cock. Suck that fucking baby maker!!" Moving faster now, and drooling at the mouth, I realize now that I had always wanted to be dominated. He is rubbing my back, forcing my head to the base of his amazingly plump cock, moaning and pulls my hands to his nipples. I start working him, taking all of him in, playing with his chest as he is fucking my throat with his cock. He pulls me up, stands up, and walks me behind a half-wall, where a bed sits, and pulls the curtains down over his big, open windows that reveal a fantastic view of downtown Seattle. He pulls me into his bathroom and starts the shower, a surprisingly large space, and says, "Daddy's gonna clean out that little pussy. Would you like that son?"
"Yes daddy, I would." And moments later, we're in the warm shower, safe from the cold rain outside, and he is slowing moving his massive fingers in and out of my warm slip, making me crazy. "You like being stretched out, faggot?! You like you daddy's big fingers deep inside that pussy?!" "Yes, daddy, yes! Stretch my fucking hole, baby!"
And he is fucking me with his knuckles like crazy, smacking my ass and taking dirty to me, telling me how nasty of a little boy I am, and I am leaking like mad.
He turns the shower off, dries me down and tells me to get on the bed on all fours. I comply, nervous, anxious for his cock. CRACK! And out of nowhere, I feel a sting against my round ass. "You're a bad boy. You need to be punished, you nasty little faggot." CRACK! The pain shoots through my body, as this time, he smacked me across the back. "You like that, you sick little fuck?!?" CRACK! And I could feel this time he was getting angry, pushing his belt harder and harder into me, until finally, I have to scream yes. I beg him to stop, to push his cock deep into me, to fill me with seed, but he kept beating me, screaming at me, telling me how much of a nasty fucking pig I was. He stopped for just a moment, told me to leave my face buried into his comforter, and opened a drawer. I heard a clicking type sound, he was shaking something, and then the sounds of him peeling.
He threw a small bottle with a silver label on the bed beside my arm. "Put that to the bottom of your nostrils and inhale deeply," he said, "And don't keep me waiting."
To be continued.
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