Lyle's Big Score

Author's Note: Nothing philosophically deep here; merely a self-contained bit of 'homobearotic' smut that fans of the genre, both male and female, can hopefully use to incite a little masturbatory bliss. I hope it does the trick. Enjoy!

*****

He fairly waddled over to my table. As usual, I was sitting by myself. Men my size tend to intimidate most people, I guess.

I wondered if he was in the bar legally since he didn't look a day older than eighteen. He offered me a pudgy little lily-white hand in greeting. I took it and gave it a firm shake. He shivered at my touch.

"I'm Lyle," he said in a voice that sounded as under-aged as he looked.

"Harvey," I responded, "But my friends call me Harv. Care to join me, Lyle?"

"Love to...Harv!" he happily accepted.

Lyle pulled a chair out and seated himself. He then set some kind of fruity mixed drink down in front of him and uneasily leaned forward to sip from the straw that stuck out the top as he watched me take a tug off my double bourbon.

I don't usually go for the young ones. However, there was something about him I was instantly drawn to. For having such a 'baby face', he was strikingly handsome.

"What are you drinking?" he asked.

"Bourbon."

"Straight? No ice or water even?"

"It's called 'neat'...a double bourbon, neat," I explained, "What about you?"

"It's called a tropical sunset...rum, I think."

"Maybe a bit of vodka, too...if they mixed it right," I informed him, "Please don't be offended but...are you old enough to be drinking that...in here, I mean?"

Lyle blushed and then smiled; not a single crinkle in the flawless, hairless skin that covered his round, cherubic face appeared.

"Oh, yes sir! The bartender carded me and everything."

I smiled and nodded.

"I'm finally twenty-one today!" he boasted.

I raised my glass for a toast and he touched his to it. While I hooked down the last of what was in mine, I heard his straw gurgle as he polished off his. I set my empty down.

"Happy birthday, then," I acknowledged and pointed at his empty glass, "Another?"

"Yes sir!" he replied, sporting an irrepressible grin.

I went to the bar and bought us another round. When I returned he pushed our empty glasses out of our way to make room for the fresh drinks.

"So what brings you to The Chuck Wagon?" I asked as I sat.

"I've been dying to get in this place almost since I first got here to start college."

"Why?"

He squirmed a little in his seat and then finally lifted his eyes to mine as he nervously said, "Once I got here and came out, I heard a lot of the other gay kids making fun of it. They said it was full of fat, hairy, old men who couldn't find their dicks with tweezers and a mirror."

I made a pained expression at the tired and typically inaccurate stereotype.

"And?"

"And...it just gave me hard-on. You see, I...I've always loved...daddy bears," he cautiously confessed.

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yeah!" he enthused, lighting up at my non-judgmental reaction, "Nothing gets me harder than a hairy man with a big, handsome, dad belly!"

I sensed there was more to his allusion to those two particular traits than merely a casual confession.

"So has the place lived up to your expectations?"

"It has now!" he declared, "I haven't been able to take my eyes off you since you walked in!"

I was right, not to mention flattered.

"Oh?"

"For sure! You must be the daddy-est bear I've ever seen!"

"Well, thank you."

"You're welcome. Can I feel your beard? It's so handsome!"

"Of course."

Lyle reached out and began gently stroking my medium length, salt and pepper beard with the palm of his hand.

"So full and soft," he sighed.

He lifted his hand to the top of my head and rubbed it for a few seconds.

"I love the way you're balding too...VERY 'daddy'!"

He then turned his attention to my beefy midsection, "Can I feel your belly?"

I turned my chair out to give him access. Lyle cupped his hand to my beard again and then slid it down over my chest until it came to rest on the top of my rounded paunch. He slowly ran it over its pronounced convexity.

"Nothing soft about this...feels like a boulder!"

He caught sight of the bulge in the left leg of my khaki trousers and looked up at me, as if asking permission to proceed. He was incredibly cute. I was pretty sure he was ready to pull his pants down and bend over the table for me right then and there. I nodded.

His hand slowly found its way down between my thighs. He gasped at its heft as he hesitantly cupped it.

"Oh my GOD! No need for tweezers or a mirror to find this I'm guessing," he tittered as his fingers nimbly sorted out cock from balls.

I laughed.

"Not that I ever recall anyway."

Seeing how turned on he was to me, I mischievously laid a hand on top of his and pressed it to my package more firmly. I began erecting from the pressure.

"It's getting hard!" he excitedly reported, cautiously scanning the bar to see if anyone noticed his groping.

"It tends to do that whenever a handsome fellow like you touches it," I said with a grin.

Lyle nervously laughed and slipped his hand out from under mine, immediately grabbing his drink for another sip. I wondered if I might've gone a bit too far in giving him that little birthday thrill, but he stayed put. So, I stayed turned out and, sure enough, he sneaked another couple of peeks at it.

"How big is it?" he inquired in a near whisper.

"If you're asking for a measurement...I've never bothered. Let's just say I've never wanted for more."

He lifted an eyebrow at my coy response and flashed me a winning smile. We finished the round I'd bought us.

"If I'm not bugging you, can I get us another?" he asked.

"You're not bugging me in the least, and you surely may," I said, pushing our empties over next to the first round.

"Be right back!" he excitedly announced as he rose to his feet, "Double bourbon...what's that other word?"

"Neat," I reminded him.

"Right! Neat!" he enthused and then started off to the bar.

Lyle was smartly but casually dressed; a freshly pressed sport shirt neatly tucked into a pair of form fitting jeans with no belt that left little to the imagination. I figured him for about half a foot shorter than my six feet in height and his portly build filled out his stylish duds handsomely.

He was definitely a classic 'chubby boy', but not in that pear-shaped way. His shoulders were on the thick side and just enough wider than the rolling haunches my eyes were glued to as he walked away to give him a masculine carriage.

My stare was interrupted by the clinking of glass as the owner of the joint suddenly showed up to bus our table of our empties. We got on well.

"Never seen you sample the chicken before," he good-naturedly teased.

"You're serving him drinks, Ben, so I assume he's legal," I shot back with a grin, "Besides, life is a banquet..."

"And most poor suckers are starving," he finished the quote for me, "I know. I've seen 'Auntie Mame' too, ya tired ol' thang."

We laughed and, when he finished wiping off the table, he slung the rag over his shoulder. He gave my belly a friendly pat.

"One thing nobody could ever accuse you of is starving, Harv!" he said with a wink and moved on.

I turned my gaze back to Lyle just as he wheeled around and started making his way back to our table. I spied his pudgy left hand wrapped around his slender drink glass. It was still boyishly dimpled at the knuckles.

The glass was a little taller and thicker than my cock at full erection, but not by much. I couldn't help imagining how his hand would look around that instead.

When he got back to the table he set my drink in front of me and sat. He raised his glass in another toast.

"To turning twenty-one!" he declared.

"Hear! Hear!" I said as I clinked mine against it.

We each took a sip and then our eyes met. He was beginning to look more than a little hot under the collar. I figured he was starting to get a bit tipsy at that point with him being a novice drinker.

"Mind if I ask how old you are?" Lyle inquired.

"Not a bit, forty-three."

"Wow!" he said with a lusty grin, "You really are old enough to be my daddy!"

"I suppose I am," I said, amused and maybe a little enchanted by his forwardness.

This boy was hungry for an encounter with a 'daddy bear'. The drought I'd been experiencing had gone on long enough that I wasn't beyond flaunting my imposing size and hirsuteness for a chance at the charming little chub.

He sat in silence for a minute, just eyeing me over with a definite lusty leer. I was obviously pulling his triggers.

"Have you ever fucked a woman?" he boldly asked.

"Back when I was your age."

He lit up at that tidbit of information.

I continued, "I had this cockeyed notion back then that if I could just stick my dick in a woman's pussy then I'd suddenly 'get it' and have my great heterosexual awakening. You?"

"Nope. I've really never even thought about sticking my dick in anybody's anything. I'm not sure why but, from the first time I ever set eyes on a daddy bear, it seems like all I've ever thought about was giving you guys someplace to stick yours."

I had to laugh at his disarming honesty.

"And how has that worked out for you?"

"It hasn't...yet."

"I see."

"I'm not a virgin, though," he quickly followed up, obviously afraid I might've just lost interest in him, "I've been sucking off a couple of linemen on our football team since a year ago last fall. One of them finally ass fucked me last semester. He and his girlfriend were on the outs for a while and she'd cut him off from the pussy, so..."

He gestured with air quotes when he said 'the pussy'.

"How did that go?"

"It was okay, I guess. He's handsome; big and real strong looking...pretty hairy too. But, he's only a year older than me, so...not really a daddy...at least, not compared to you!"

Lyle paused briefly before continuing.

"And...not that it should matter, I guess...but his thing isn't really that much bigger than mine. He could only get it in maybe an inch past the head."

Lyle suddenly went silent and seemed to assess the direction our conversation had taken. He sipped his drink and then, a moment later, I felt his hand slide over my thigh again and give my bulge another squeeze. He peered up at me with a smoldering look in his eyes.

"Any chance I might to get to see how big this thing is tonight? It is my birthday after all."

I slid my hand back down over his and gave it an affectionate squeeze as he fondled me.

"You're an awfully cute young man, and you've done everything right so far. To be honest..."

I intentionally paused to create a little tension and saw a look of disappointment briefly cross his face.

"...I'd say your chances are pretty good."

"SWEET!" he exclaimed and then realized he'd said it loud enough for most everyone to hear.

I had to laugh.

"I'm sorry!" he said sounding panicked, "I think maybe I'm starting to feel these drinks."

"It's alright. Nearly everybody in here, including me, came looking for the same thing as you."

"I didn't embarrass you?"

"No. But, we only go do the nasty if you're willing to let me drive you to my place. Trust me, a DUI is no gift you want to give yourself for your twenty-first birthday."

He thought for a minute.

"Yes sir, I would do that. I trust you."

"Okay, then, let's drink up and head out."

We idly chatted while we worked on our drinks. He was very intelligent and a gifted conversationalist. I was beginning to enjoy more than just his ardent attention.

After we finished them, I escorted him to my car. A short while later, we pulled into the semi-circular guest drive in front of my house and got out.

"Nice place!" he remarked as he studied my spacious, Tudor style two story.

"Thank you. I guess I've done alright for myself."

"I'll say."

I unlocked the front door and ushered him in. We removed our shoes and socks and then I led him into my den.

Seating myself on the right end of my sofa, I patted the middle cushion. He quickly piled up at my side and slipped under my arm. I spread my legs a bit and guided his left hand to my bulge again. A deeply contented sigh floated up from him as he fondled it, so I drew him in for a kiss.

I decided to keep it dry to begin with, uncertain of exactly how inexperienced he was. His lips were full and luscious. I pinched them between mine one at a time and tugged at them.

His breathing became heavier. I cupped his left cheek in my hand and began working my tongue between his lips. He didn't resist in the slightest. I gently probed his mouth with it for a while and soon he was hungrily sucking on it.

I pulled back to gauge his reaction. He smiled and then nuzzled his face into my bearded jowls while lifting his hand from my bulge to throw his arm over my belly. He hugged it tightly and sounded out his contentment with a sigh once again.

"That was real nice, mister," he softly said.

"Harv," I reminded him.

"Harv," he complied, "Anyway, I've never been kissed like that before. It's so different than the stuff I've been doing."

"How so?"

"Those football players...they take me out in their cars to some secluded spot way off campus and lay their seats back. They go to town in my mouth till they spunk it and, when they're done, they drive me back to my apartment and put me out in the parking lot. That's that...they're done with me. They just drive off...barely even acknowledge me if they see me around."

"Well, they're straight. Straight guys tend to get a little insecure about their masculinity when they discover a guy's mouth can be just as stimulating as a girl's."

He thought about what I'd said.

"Actually, they've both told me I'm better at sucking dick than girls."

"There you have it. They probably drive off wondering if maybe they're really gay too."

"Maybe so," he replied with a smile, "Would you kiss me some more? It feels so nice!"

I grinned and drew him back in for another session. He responded to it even more earnestly.

My cock lifted off my balls down in my roomy trousers and was arcing out across my hip after I adjusted it. It was pointing in his direction and I guided his hand to it.

Lyle traced its length with his palm while we kissed and then started clutching at it to get a sense of its girth. A husky growl rose from him. I released him and his eyes immediately zeroed in on the tent in my pants.

"Look at that!" he blurted out, running his hand over it again, "Can I see it?"

"Pull 'im out, boy," I graciously consented as I awkwardly unzipped.

Lyle reached in and popped open the snap in the fly of my boxers. He maneuvered his left arm up onto my belly and his hand disappeared. The pudgy thing felt soft and warm as he began tentatively stroking me.

"It's so hard...but the skin's so soft...and it feels red hot!" he reported with a growing smile.

With some effort, he finally managed to work it out through my open fly. He gasped at the sight of it and then wrapped his hand around the head to give it a squeeze.

"Man! That thing's fat!"

"Yeah, I guess he is a little on the husky side," I admitted, pleasantly amused by his total fascination with it.

His eyes began to flame as he squeezed it for a couple more minutes.

"What should I do?" he finally asked.

"All the things you've always dreamed of doing with a daddy dick - happy birthday, Lyle."

He started laughing and scooted off the sofa, positioning himself between my legs. Aiming it at his face, he leaned in and planted a reverent kiss on the tip of my cock head.

"A bona fide daddy dick! It's so handsome!"

"I'm awfully glad you think so. I want tonight to be very different for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I want you to experience the rewards of 'mutual' gratification. None of that one-sided stuff you've put up with from your football boys."

"I like the sound of that," he mused as he leaned in and pecked my frenum with a kiss.

"Me too," I said and stroked his hair.

He filled his mouth on my cock head and tenderly sucked it. Slowly pulling off, a look of concern crossed his youthful face.

"Is something wrong?"

"I've never had a real daddy dick before. It's so much bigger than the ones I've been sucking. What if I can't...please you?"

"Here's what I think, Lyle. If you just focus on pleasing yourself then it naturally follows you'll please me in the process. Let your sense of adventure be your guide and you'll do just fine."

Lyle's smile returned and he kissed my gaping slit. His ruby lips were nice and full, but his mouth was delightfully small. As I watched them slip back over my cock head, I thrilled to the sight of them stretching out on my corona before slipping on over and cinching behind it.

His eyes closed in beatific contentment. He cupped his stubby fingers around my shaft and tenderly nursed on my sizable knob. I shivered as I felt it begin to swell even more in his tight suction.

"Mmmmmm! That's nice...ve-e-ery nice," I encouraged him.

Lyle responded to my encouragement by bobbing his head on me. His lips looked beautiful sliding up and down over my swollen glans. I lifted my hips slightly to get a better view. He opened his eyes and saw me smiling down on him. Reading my approval, he began nursing on me more fervently.

"See? You're a natural!" I praised him, "Every daddy's dream boy!"

He lifted his mouth off my dick just long enough to thank me and then resumed his intensive labor for a good fifteen minutes, his eyes locked on mine the entire time. When my back began to tire from elevating my hips, I lowered my haunches back down onto the sofa cushion.

I rested a hand on the back of his head, content to enjoy the sound of his slurping as it gradually increased in volume. He moaned in response.

Eventually his neck became fatigued. He lifted his mouth from my throbbing member and fully revealed my cock head, shimmering by then in a heavy coat of his saliva. He began swirling his tongue around it and then rested his haunches back on his heels, proudly beaming up at me.

"Your dick tastes real good. I'm glad you're cut. One of my football guys is uncut. It's beautiful to look at...but he can taste awfully rank sometimes."

I laughed and ruffled his hair.

"I think intact dicks are beautiful too, and if they're properly cared for then I even like the taste of them. Sounds like your football player might not practice very good hygiene. No wonder his girlfriend doesn't want to spend much time giving him blow jobs."

"Now that I've tasted a real daddy dick, he's probably had his last one from me too," Lyle said with a laugh.

He wrapped his hand around my cock head again and began drumming his pudgy fingers on the top of it. He grinned and leaned in, kissing my leaking cum spout again.

When he rested back, a thin strand of pre stretched out between it and his bottom lip, eventually breaking and clinging to his chin. He scooped it onto a finger and sucked it clean.

"I love pre-cum. It's so salty!"

"Keep it up and you'll get the full course meal before long."

He laughed out loud and then said, "I can't wait! Can we get naked? I've never been naked for sex."

"You bet! Let's go to the playroom."

He jumped to his feet and fidgeted with his obvious hard-on. I stood up, mine still jutting out from my open fly, and led him by the hand to the room I had carefully outfitted for such casual romps.

It was the smallest of my five bedrooms. I furnished it only with some mood lighting, a bureau and the old king sized mattress from my former bed directly on the floor. I'd dressed it in a plastic mattress cover and some discarded linens that I didn't mind catching copious amounts of cum.

I towered over Lyle as I stepped up and pulled his shirt tail out from his jeans. I began unbuttoning his shirt and, when I was done, pushed it back over his shoulders to take my first look at his bare, plump, 'fat boy' titties.