Date: Mon, 16 May 2011 04:32:01 -0700 (PDT)
From: cougan smith <themolokovellocette@yahoo.com>
Subject: Seattle Daddy, Part One

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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