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londonboy

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It took most of my strength not to grab the guy and squeeze him so hard I’d probably break something.  I just had this intense desire to hug him – to show him how I felt about him.  He was pinching my hard nipples through the heavy shirt I was wearing and mumbling to himself quietly.  I caught snippets of what he was saying – so huge, hard as hell, gonna piss on myself - and stuff like that.  I could tell he was in some sort of muscle worship fantasy world and he did not want to be disturbed.  That was fine with me; because not only were my nips getting pleasured roughly, I was also getting to take a closer look at the guy.  It was very dark in the back room of “The Pit,” my favorite bar, but I could still see him fine.  I liked to come here because I fit in – the place was full of older huge men looking for young pups to look after.  I was the definition of a muscle daddy.  I loved smaller guys that were into worshipping.  I also loved a young buck that needed a wisdom figure to take care of him.  I didn’t care if people judged me or not, but it was good to be in a place where other guys got off on the same things I did.  I had become good friends with many of the other huge older men that frequented the place.  We even shared our pups, sometimes – or warned each other about dudes that weren’t worth the fuss. 

 

The guy chatting with himself in front of me was probably twenty-five – half my age.  He was about two hundred pounds lighter and possibly eight to ten inches shorter, too.  I was in daddy heaven.  He fit the bill physically and I was hoping he’d have the internal affinities to make him a proper pup.  He was a little more built than I liked ‘em, but that was fine.  He had a wiry body that looked beautifully knotted in all the right places.  It was a gymnast’s build and that made me hope he was very flexible.  He kept his hair short and neatly trimmed – something that I insisted my pups do, so he was already doing well and we hadn’t even left the gate.  He dressed the part, too – a Ralph Lauren button down, some khakis, and loafers with no socks.  I was such a sucker for little prep boys.  In college I had plowed my way through the Sigma Epsilon frat house and I still had a thing for ‘gators.’  That was a nickname I created because of my dick-hardening lust for all things Izod.  If a dude wore bright red pants and a pink shirt I could cum on the spot.  I was just into little prepsters and I didn’t apologize for it. 

 

Every now and then the little guy would squeeze my huge nubs just right and an intense thrill would shoot through my entire body.  This is what made me want to crush the dude in my arms – not out of meanness, but because I wanted him so much.  My big chest was like an avalanche of muscle spread out thickly wide before the guy.  He’d stop his nipple play every now and then to cup his hand under one of my enormous pecs jutting behind the material of the shirt and he’d try to push up but the thing was too heavy and too stubbornly hard to move.  This would make the guy squeal a little and then his mumbling would intensify.  I had a feeling the kid could have played with my shelf all night long, but I had other plans.  I reached down, grabbed him by his ass, and lifted his body upward.  His legs wrapped around my waist instantly – a move I figured he had dreamed about all of his life.  I knew I was showing off and that people in the bar were probably thinking I was acting crude, but I didn’t care.  I was a big muscle daddy and making some pup almost cream in his pants because I could pick him up so easily was what I was supposed to do.  I distinctly heard the dude let out an “oh god yes” as I moved him toward a stool at the bar.  People parted as we moved through the crowd – some clearly jealous of my little friend.  They wanted to be carried, too.  I put the prepster down on the stool and then leaned his back against the bar behind him.  He kept his legs locked around my waist – his feet hooked together just above my bulbous butt.  His hands were still latched onto my man plugs and he was twisting even harder.  I pressed my growing hardness into his balls and ass – kind of gently shoving his back against the wood of the bar.  I wasn’t being abusive – it was just a natural reaction to his teasing grip on my nipples.

 

While I had carried him the short distance I had marveled at how huge my hands felt holding his body.  He was a decent sized guy, but compared to me he’d be considered pretty small.  Or maybe I’d just be thought freakishly big.  Either way, I was wild about how my thick long fingers could hold his tight ass even in one hand if I had wanted to.  A thought shot through my mind – I wondered if I would have been able to palm the dude’s butt and hold him upside down.  That would have been impressive.  The fella twisted my nips perfectly and this caused me to slam my giant meat into his ass, which – in turn – slammed his body against the bar.  I could tell he loved it, but it did cause him some pain.

 

“Sorry man, but if you don’t let go of my nipples soon I’m not going to be responsible for any of the damage I cause to your body or this bar,” I threatened.

 

He instantly lessened his grip on my protruding nubs – mainly from fear – but he also smiled broadly, clearly proud of the fact that he could bring me to a point of no control.  He quickly spread his palms out on my chest and started massaging the mounds of muscle – mesmerized at how huge my upper body was.  While he tried to see how many of his hands it could take to cover my entire pec shelf I, again, got a chance to look at the little guy.  I swear if he told me his name was Biff later on I was going to gush out such a big load that he might need a life jacket.  He was such the little preppy-meister.  Dark wavy hair that looked like it was trimmed every week, green eyes the color of lagoons I’d swam in while visiting Hawaii, and an air about him that made it clear he was even more my type than previously thought. 

 

Even though I was a bona fide, card-carrying, little-pup-dominating muscle daddy that didn’t mean I was a babysitter.  If a dude needed me to be his everything – his source of income, his self-esteem booster, and even his ass-wiper – then he was usually only good for some throw-down time in bed for one night.  Being somebody’s daddy does not mean I think for them – it only means I try to influence what they think.  It’s actually more stimulating for the older, wiser alpha if his pup is someone that questions things, argues sometimes, and, yes, even challenges his elders.  I did not need a wimpy dude that sat on the sofa all day eating Bonbons.  No, I needed someone that was successful and confident, himself.  That made being a daddy so much more interesting – more fun – and exactly what I wanted.  If a well-educated, well-motivated guy submitted himself to a daddy it was the ultimate compliment.  A guy that is energetic and ‘in charge’ in other parts of his life, but wants to come home and let someone else be the lead is so much more appealing than someone who doesn’t care.  I did not want to get my hopes up, but signs pointed to the probability that this guy was a muscle daddy’s dream come true.  He was drinking scotch that cost four times the amount of what I usually ordered and he was wearing a Movado watch – at what people would call a biker bar, no less.  I decided it was time to find out a little more about this potential pup.

 

“What do you do?” I asked, loudly – to draw him out of his lustful trance of my chest. 

 

“Big mature men,” he replied, looking me in the eyes.

 

I saw confidence in those pools of green and it made me thrust my crotch into his ass hard.  He moaned a little – again loving the fact that he could make me react that way.  I made a face – trying really hard to show my disapproval even though his answer had thrilled me.  Well, the tone of his answer had thrilled me the most. 

 

“Oh, you mean for work,” he said – clearly getting the fact that I was teasingly not pleased.  He took an apologetic tone and added, “I own an internet company.”

 

He then went on to name the company and it was one I recognized.  I also knew the company had recently gone public.  I further knew it was reported that the owner had become a billionaire.  He recognized in my eyes the fact that I knew all of this.  He also quickly gathered that it satisfied me in some way.  He was like a sprinter that had just made it over the first hurdle.  I watched a specific shift in the man’s attitude at that moment and realized it matched the new paradigm I was moving into, as well.  I was moving, for him, beyond that ‘this is just a big hot older man I’ll let fuck me for one night’ starting point.  We were beginning a little muscle minuet that was certainly going to last for a while.  He needed to test the waters, too.

 

“What do you do?” he asked.

 

“Little preppy men with tight asses,” I replied.

 

He tried to make a disapproving face at my answer, but it was kind of hard to hide how much what I said thrilled him.  This time, he actually shoved his butt into my still-hardening cock and we both let out soft moans.  He smiled at me, but made it clear he was going to wait until I gave an honest answer.

 

“I own a construction company and have multiple properties around town,” I answered and loved how this answer thrilled him.  It was clear that he, like me, had always hoped to find a muscle daddy that didn’t need supporting.  I went on to blow his mind by telling him the name of the company and a few of the places I owned.  I didn’t mention all of them because I didn’t want him to be intimidated. 

 

“So, the big dude has some brains, too, I see,” he said – and I could immediately sense it was a huge compliment.

 

“And I see the little pup doesn’t need someone to take care of him,” I said, choosing my words carefully because I needed him to answer in a specific way.

 

“That, my big friend, depends on what you mean by ‘take care of.’  Do I need someone to put food on my table?  No.  Do I need someone to take me to the opera?  No.  I do, however, need someone to put me in my proper place and keep me there,” he answered – and the seriousness behind what he was saying was quite clear.

 

My cock was now fully hard – mainly because I was suddenly realizing that this creature in front of me, this small man I could easily toss around physically, was teetering near my ideal mate.  I knew there were still hurdles to jump over – probably for me, as well – but I was beginning to sense that we understood each other on a plane that was imperceptible to other people.  I pulled my big arms forward – causing the dude to come off the stool.  He was, again, held in my big hands – crotch against crotch and his face a half a foot below mine.  I looked down into his eyes and felt an electric charge that seemed both familiar and totally new at the same time.  I could see in his expression that he felt the same way, too.

 

“I don’t need a kid, if that’s what you mean.  Let someone else change your diapers.  I do however need a . . .” I paused to collect my thoughts and then continued, “I do however need a guy that I can tame, mentor, spar with, and dominate.”

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I loved the way they were already so intimate to make out in front of everybody and yet, still getting to know each other's most basic details. Great contrast between just physical attraction and potential love interest! They're much more than a hot muscle daddy and a hot muscle twink! I love this power couple already!

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Great as always. The dynamic both physical and emotional is pretty powerful. The way both guys are calculating, sizing each other up through their muscle lust is well done! Thanks!

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