Married Dad Tends to My Bud

I had just turned 19 when a new marijuana dispensary opened in town, so I went to check it out. Outside I noticed a car I've never seen before. The white 2000s-era sedan was covered in stickers, showing the logos of automotive companies, weed paraphernalia brands and whatever else. I entered the building and went to the front where the budtender was waiting, his hands braced on the counter.

He was quite stereotypical of an older stoner dude-- definitely the owner of the rather conspicuous car outside. A big Caucasian guy, tall and wide, overweight. Visible tattoos on his hands and arms. His long blonde hair in a ponytail worked only because he rocked it with a greying moustache and goatee. He must have been around 45 but I could tell he looked older than his age. His swarthy, pockmarked face only added to his masculine appeal. Whoever ordered the company shirts forgot about this guy, because his black tee was bulging at all seams. His biceps were big, and his exposed neck too. 100% Canadian redneck, or hillbilly, if you will. His eyebrows lifted at he waited for me to recite my order.

"Hey, can I get 3.5 gs of flower? Just pick whatever you like. A sativa. Looking for about $10 a g."

"Okay, sure." He put a plastic jar into a paper bag and stapled it. His hands were big and his arms freckled, rich with blonde hair glinting in the light. Fur curled on his knuckles and grew thickly around his wrists. I was in love.

He thanked me for the order after I cashed out. "Anything else I can do for ya?" His voice was deep with a Canadian drawl.

Without hesitation I said, "Are you married?"

His face did belay a slight smile. He showed the silver band on his finger. "Yep. Got a little boy and a girl."

Too bad. "All right, thanks a lot man. Bye."

Another time when I purchased weed he poked his head out of the Employees Only section. He took in the situation, noticed me and waved shortly, before disappearing again. One time upon receiving my 'pick whatever you like' order, I noticed he had chosen for me Papa's Herb— seemed playful.

One evening when he walked out the back door of the dispensary I was waiting for him outside. He looked surprised to see me but again showed a slight smile. "Hey." He locked the rear door of the business and deposited the key into his jean pocket.

"Hey man," I said. "What's your name?"

"Bram."

"I'm David, nice to meet you."

He nodded but didn't say anything, reaching into his winter jacket pocket for his cigarettes. A man of few words apparently. He leaned against the brick wall. The smoking area was lit by a single fixture, completely fenced in with a gate. An empty ground coffee tin functioning as an ashtray sat atop a picnic table. I imagined a designated smoking spot might be important for this type of business.

"Man, you are so handsome... I hope somebody tells you that."

Again he nodded, his words considered, coming out late. "Thank you." He demeanour was so amicable and Dad-like.

He had produced a joint instead-- probably some good shit. He held the Bic lighter up to the j and expertly lit it with one hand. He took short puffs, ensuring it was burning evenly.

He still seemed jovial enough so I went for it. "I would love to blow you right now. If not, I'll go."

His eyes widened at me as he processed this, looking incredulous, holding his joint. There was not a response this time, so after a beat I boldly walked over and dropped to my knees before him, on the cold concrete. HIs winter jacket was open, revealing that too-tight company tee stretched over his muscle gut.

Finally he looked down at me, before nodding and placing the joint in his mouth. He undid his jeans-- no belt-- and pulled down the zipper, spreading the pants open. With the thumb of one hand he hooked his boxers down and with his other pulled his junk over the loose elastic band. There in front of my face was the object of my desire. This was the equipment he used to successfully inseminate his wife— at least twice. To my surprise, his meat was uncircumcised, which had not been in fashion when and where he was born. He must have really been poor, perhaps growing up on a farm. Visions of him driving field cars and duck hunting were swimming in my mind. His penis was relatively wide, the length average, cockhead visible through his slightly drooping foreskin. It hung naturally forward, held upward by some big nuts. Brad had big stones suited for a man of his stature.

"All right," he said. That was my cue. He was looking around, even though the area was enclosed and no one was around. There were no apartments looking down onto the smoking area.

I wasted no time taking his entire flaccid penis into my mouth and held it there in my throat, my nose in his hairy bush, his furry balls against my chin. From above me I heard him take another deep hit, holding the smoke in his lungs, before exhaling the cloud into the cool night air. For a few minutes I stayed mostly like this, sucking, nursing and working up the saliva over his soft tool while he smoked. His foreskin retracted all the way back, the wide head of his penis moist and virile underneath. He tasted clean, slightly pissy— like a man after a day of work. Finally I went to work with my hand as well, stroking the skin on his hardening shaft, brushing my knuckles on his hairy balls, humming around his dick to show him I was loving it.

I had pulled his red cotton boxers further down and his piece now jutted straight out from between his large furry thighs, fully erect. I took in the big bush of pubes and sizeable testicles with matted hair, soaked in my drool. His hairy belly peeked from beneath his shirt. I worked his cock in and out of my throat, working up the thick mucus before going back to stroking his foreskin over his wet meat and nursing the head. Sometimes just holding the rigid erection as deep and long in my throat as I could. He didn't touch me at all.

When I paused momentarily to glimpse his face, his jovial attitude was gone. He looked uncomfortable, even pained. He was puffing on the j aggressively, his lip curling. He kept rising a bit onto his toes, his body tensing, so I pulled off a few times. Maybe his idiotic wife didn't enjoy sucking dick.

I ventured my hand upward over his furry belly to rub it while I fellated him. He didn't seem to mind. Eventually I could taste just a hint of his semen— his preejaculate was working to increase the chances of entering his next sex partner. His outward breaths eventually were becoming more hoarse. When his leg started to tremble I pulled completely off and finally looked up at him, letting him get his footing with his pants falling down his ass.

After a moment he looked down from the sky, into my face. His joint was still lit. He had been smoking the entire time. With his free hand he finally reached down and held his sloppy dick from the base, shook it a few times, so firm it must have had a bone inside. Like a fuckin' animal. "Fuck," he moaned, the only thing he had said since his dick entered my mouth.

'"Please fuck me," I begged him.

Again with the nod, but no hesitation this time. He was betting all in. He threw the filter of his finished j aside. I scrambled up off my feet and faced the wall next to him. Quickly I grabbed the lube in my sweater pocket, undid my belt and dropped my pants below my ass. I squirted a glob into my fingers and immediately began to work it around my hole. I put my thumb abruptly inside, forcing the muscle open. This man was agreeing to fuck me and I wasn't going to let the chance slip. Feeling the burn in my ass was better than him having second thoughts after he couldn't get it inside. He moved in to mount me from behind, his cock briefly touching my exposed tailbone. With another glob I reached back and smeared it quickly onto his shaft. My back curved and my head went down as I tried to expose my asshole, bracing against the brick with one hand. I didn't dare say anything to break the magic.

Instinctively he touched his target with middle and forefinger, feeling for the well of my slick anus and immediately tried slotting his wet piece into place. My crack was hairy but it must have been too late for him to care. Maybe he had fucked boys before. Maybe this wasn't his first demolition derby, if you know what I mean.

I pushed my anus out while he pushed in. Immediately the entrance gave way, letting his blunt tool inside. His dick peeked in just enough to dock inside. He touched me for the first time, grabbing my hips, trying to get traction of my hole with his tool. He rotated his pelvis, shuffling further up behind me and gloriously sinking balls deep. He then stopped, almost as a pianist does before a performance, before beginning a slow rut. Minutes went by in silence as he pulled his penis partially out of my sleeve and then pushed back inside.

My lube-covered hand had been ready to assist but I wiped it on my jeans. I didn't touch my own dick. In this moment it was irrelevant. Just braced myself and stayed silent, grateful of this giant masculine man making love to me. For him though, it was clearly just a fuck. Leisurely he had worked up the pace of his thrusts, his furry groin now audibly slapping my flesh as he stroked firmly. Both hands gripped firmly onto my bare waist as his body began to function only to deliver his semen inside. Those big nuts, that was their sole purpose, and he was about to put them to work for the day. They worked in tandem with his penis, taking its pleasure in a hole until the signal to release. I could feel his wedding band cold against my skin in the winter air.

He had really gotten into it now, winded but never leaving my ass. Patiently I took his fuck, listening to his heavy breathing and the squishing of his burrowing cock, wet with lube, my saliva and the slick of mucus in my rectum. He paused for a minute to catch his breath (and probably his nut) before continuing to work his pole quickly in my ass, pulling my hips back deeper onto his bone. The delicious fullness of his penis inside me, I never wanted it to end.

Was he getting off seeing his wide shaft disappearing into my slick asshole? Was he looking anywhere BUT the hole he was able to impregnate? I was even hesitant to look behind me until he was finished. Again in my imagination this gorgeous lion of a man was throwing back his mane of hair, working himself over inside a hole to his climax. In this fantasy his shoulders are broad and sweat drips through the fur on his fat chest. In real life, I willed my body to suck the cum out of him. Only he decided when enough was enough and when the sex was over.

Apparently this was less than 10 minutes inside my hole, as he finally begin to speak in his bass voice. "Aw yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah," he mumbled from behind me, pumping away, lost in the moment. He was sprinting for the point of no return, the pressure bubbling stronger in his loins. He was going to ejaculate inside and my heart was full because I had pleased him enough to deserve his emission. I tightened up my anal muscles in anticipation of his orgasm. "I'm squeezing your dick," I told him breathlessly, his slick piece pushing the ring of my anus back and forth. "Please cum in me Bram. Please cum in me." I shut up but he seemed to be right on time to receive that line.

Then, after a beat: "Fuuuuuu...," he groaned long and low. I could imagine the urethra of his beautiful penis drooling just a drop at first, tentatively, then bang, bang, bang, bang— jets of fertile sperm travelling 100mph from the tip of his penis into the hot red sleeve of my rectum. The involuntary spasms from deep in his groin worked to flex each wad inside. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he panted, shooting off like a deer rifle.

I keened as well, mostly for his satisfaction, as he reached his orgasm and ejaculated. Of course I was completely gratified that this man had chosen me to receive his load. The symbolism of him giving me his potential baby in those few tablespoons of semen was all I lived for. I would be keeping his load in me as long as I physically could.

He kept fucking, spasming and snorting, working his sensitive cockhead through the stream of semen he had deposited. But before long it was over. "Holy shit," he said. He held himself deep inside one more time, then let go of my hips. A few second later he pulled his piece out, slowly— what a gentleman.

Usually the aftermath of sex is an incredible feeling, but I wanted to make myself scarce before he started having regrets about his decision to cheat on his wife with a 19 year old boy. I stayed facing the wall and did my pants back up, taking longer than expected to do my belt up around my raging erection. The little bottle of lube had to be retrieved from where it had fallen to the concrete.

When I turned Bram had put his soaked junk away and done back up his jeans. He stood by the gate, holding it open. "Fuck yeah," he said to me, acknowledging me, and that was the final word.

"Thanks man," I said. "Goodnight." And walked away happy.