Date: Tue, 30 Jun 2015 13:36:53 +0000
From: Bill Drake <billdrake@hotmail.com>
Subject: Horny Dad Tales: Dadfuckers Club pt. 1

The Dadfuckers Club
Bill Drake


The usual disclaimers apply: this is a made-up fictional story for adult
readers only. It contains graphic depictions of sexual activity between men
who are related.

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It might be a while before I finish part 2 of this, but part 1 should stand
on its own.



Horny Dad Tales #21 The Dadfuckers Club pt 1



Living in a large city has its perks. For starters, there are more good
looking men - I mean, really smoking hot guys - than you can
count. Somehow, they seem to come out of the woodwork. At the bars, on the
street, at the office, they're enough to keep a young guy like myself
perpetually horned and happy.

I was the proverbial small-town Midwestern guy goes to the big city. I
stuck it out four years more or less in the closet at a state university
and on the varsity baseball team. Earned a marketing degree and a body of
perfectly bulky yet sculpted muscle. I was never crazy about being blond
and ruddy-cheeked but I soon was aware that it drew men like flies to
honey. The second I moved the city I realized I was gonna get laid
nonstop. And that I was hot shit in my new environment. The world was my
oyster.

In the city, there's always groups of young bucks like me. Demi-gods in the
prime of their looks. Boy-next-door handsome, perfect bodies, and pretty
much regular dudes. Still carrying their jock ways with them in the way
they walk, talk, and stick together in good old-fashioned male bonding. The
kind of guys who would elicit jealousy but most often plain
I-wanna-fuck-those-guys lust.

Only my group was a group of twenty-something tops. Me, Mac (George
McDonough, a promising stock broker in training working on the Street), Jim
Hersh (a burly rugby player type and the other blond in the group), Wes
Davidson (a professional male model for men's fitness magazines), Ryan
Heller (at 6'5, the tallest among us, he worked as a policy aide in City
Hall). Me, Jim, and Ryan were the core of the group, sharing a loft where
the group would spend much of our time hanging out, watching games or
partying. When we weren't at the bars, that is.

Two things kept sexual jealousy from erupting. One, we liked older guys. I
overheard one twink at the bar sneer that the "Dad-Fuckers Club" had
arrived. I told the guys and the name stuck. Sometimes one of us would
chant "DFC" and all of us would clink our beers or bump fists. One for all
and all for one.

That was the second thing. We liked to share. Sure, if one of us met a guy
we were into, dating would be a one-on-one thing. But for a weekend night
(hell, weeknight) bout of let's go out, get drunk, and get laid, well, half
the time it would turn into a threeway, foursome or outright orgy. Fuck, we
were in our twenties and swimming in hormones you know?

Funny thing was, there was a seeming endless supply of hot dads. Traveling
businessman stepping out for a little action outside their dull
marriages. Suburban commuters discovering their libidos and getting a
second wind in their 40s. Divorced fathers who if they admitted probably
had some issues to work out in relation ot their own sons. The majority
though were just the many 40- and even 50-something single gay men who
lived in the city and kept in superhot shape.

***

It had all started with Gary. Just turned 42, father of three, lived in
Connecticut. Hell, I didn't even know any of the man's vital statistics
when I answered the door one Wednesday night. I'd just gotten home from a
late day at the office, showered and changed into sweats and sat down with
some takeout and some beer to watch some NCAA basketball. My team was out
of the brackets but a buddy and teammate of mine from college was a sports
medicine specialist for Purdue so I was rooting for them. I'd barely sat
down when the door buzzed. The man talking into the intercom was looking
for Jim.

I let him up to explain that Jim was out for the evening. When I opened the
door - wow! - 6'2" of hunky married stud. Green eyes, thinning
chestnut-brown hair, nice fit body in a tucked polo shirt and jeans, had
those full bulky pecs like guys in their 40s only have. It took me a
second, but I recognized the guy as Jim's trick from a few weekends back.

"Hey," he greeted me a little nervously. Blushing and shrugging his
shoulders even. Funny how you get used to the way married men behave when
their dicks are calling the shots. "Is Jim in?"

I paused to take in the sight and to let him know I was enjoying what I
saw. "Sorry, man. Jim has to work late. You can come in and wait if you
like. I'm just watching the game."

"You don't mind?" I was starting to groove on suburban daddy's polite,
jocular vibe.

"A friend of Jim's is a friend of mine. I'm Matt, by the way. Jim's
roommate." We shook hands.

"Gary. Glad to meet you, Matt."

"Let me get you a beer."

We shot the shit while we watched the game. I could barely keep my eyes on
the game, I had to look over at this hunk - the freckled-tan skin, the fine
hairs on his arm, the powerful hands. Definitely took golf trips down
somewhere warm in the winter. I think Gary was enjoying the attention and,
frankly, enjoying sneaking looks at me. Finally, I grabbed the bull by the
horns.

"My roommate's a pretty dumb guy."

Gary took a swig of beer. "Yeah? How so?"

I leaned back and spread my legs some. My rod was definitely chubbing up in
my sweatpants. "If I had a guy as hot as you waiting for me at home, I
wouldn't be working late."

That made him smile, but he checked himself. "Really? What would you be
doing?"

I bit my lip and thought of my next move. I was getting into this. "I'd be
sitting here, nursing my beer, watching the game... having you between my
legs sucking my bone off."

That made him chuckle. "You don't mince words, do you?"

"Should I?"

"Jim might not like it." Damn, even sitting still, those pecs looked
awesome. I could see the hint of nipple poking through his shirt.

"Jim's not gonna know." I took a swig. "You're not gonna tell him."

He was still laughing a little but not as much now. "Oh really? Is that an
order?"

"Nope. An observation." That brought a raised eyebrow. "You don't wanna do
anything to fuck up your chances." I stroked my now hard meat, letting Gary
get a good look. "Cause you want a go at this."

"Damn, you're cocky."

"Maybe. Tell me I'm wrong."

"Damn, you're cocky," he deadpanned. We both laughed.

Just then a key turned in the door lock. Jim was home.

"Hiya. Sorry I'm late, guy. Hope Matt's been keeping you entertained."

Gary blushed but just said, "Yeah, we just been watching the game."

"Wanna come on back?" Etiquette with a fuck buddy can be awkward, but Jim
was pretty experienced at making guys feel at ease. The two retired to his
bedroom. About ten minutes later I heard them having sex, even through the
closed door. Gary apparently is a moaner. No way was my hardon going down
anytime soon.

Within a half hour the two were at the front door. Gary was fully dressed,
while Jim had just slipped on a pair of gym shorts. They kissed briefly
before Gary was off.

Jim grabbed a beer and plopped down on the coach next to me, his dick
flopping heavy and low in his shorts. "Jeez, that guy's a hot fuck. Just
what I needed after a day like today."

"You look pretty sated," I observed.

"Damn straight. Fucker got me to come twice."

"Where'd you find him?"

"Grand Central. I started trawling there last month. I swear none of those
suburban men are fucking their wives." He drank his beer, then asked. "Say,
Matt, how long has it been since you've gotten laid?"

I thought back to a traveling businessman I'd boffed three weeks ago. "Too
long, buddy. Too long." I clinked his beer with mine. "To getting laid."

"Here here."

***

I didn't have to wait long, it turns out. The very next night, like
clockwork at 8pm, the doorbell buzzed.

"It's Gary," the voice announced.

I turned down the volume on the TV and went to answer the door. "Hiya," the
suburban dad greeted me. "I took a chance you'd want some company to watch
the Tarheels get their ass whooped."  In his arm was a brown paper bag
containing a six pack.

"Come in," I said. "Jim's not home. He's traveling on business"

"I know. He texted me earlier."

That made me grin big. Which made Gary grin big. He set the beer down on
the entryway table and turned toward me. A look of expectation crossed his
face as I stepped up, putting my hand on the back of his neck, drawing him
toward me. We kissed. Slow, but hot, tongues battling and caressing, and I
felt my libido racing full speed ahead. Gary wasn't the first older married
dude I'd made out with, but the experience was still new enough to me to
give me a headrush.

The suburban daddy was all smiles when we broke for air. "Man, you know how
to kiss," he muttered. Then, adding casually, "You don't want to know the
excuses I gave my wife to stay late in the city two nights in a row."

"I don't know... maybe it would give me an even bigger hardon."

The forty-something man shook his head. "Man, you have no scruples, huh?"

"I used to."

"Til when?"

"Last night. When I heard Jim fucking you."

That made his eyes twinkle all right. We were each cheating in our own way
- Gary on his wife, me on my best friend and roommate. It was only turning
us on more. Gary reached into the brown bag and pulled out a beer, using
his key chain to open it.

"Here," he said, thrusting the bottle in my hand. "I promised you a blowjob
while you kick back and watch the game."

I took the offering and walked over to the couch, plopping myself in my
habitual spot on the middle cushion. "You never promised me," I
countered. "That was my brilliant idea."

Gary shrugged his shoulders, then reached down and pulled off his polo
shirt. If his chest looked good clothed, it was magnificent bared. Just the
right amount of hair dusting the pecs and coating the stomach, getting
thicker at his treasure trail. That barrel chest looked extra meaty, just
begging to be squeezed. I just knew those dad-titties would bounce when I
fucked the guy. For now, they hung suspended out a few inches from his
abdomen, the nipples already firming up in excitement. The body was capped
off with powerful, bulging arms.

"OK," he admitted, "I liked the idea, too." He knelt down as I pulled down
my sweats, freeing my erection for his gaze and then touch. "Your roommate
only likes to get blown as a warm up to sex."

"And for you it's the main course," I finished, only by now he was busy
swallowing my dick. It felt good, real good. This suburban dad knew his way
around a cock. For the next twenty minutes he made love to my stick,
slurping, swallowing, licking, tongue-teasing, kissing, bobbing,
mouth-screwing - each move working me higher to another plateau and keeping
me hanging there, eager for more. I tried being nonchalant and watching the
game while getting blown, but soon all my attention was on Gary's expert
fellatio. When he started edging his tongue out, the sensation against the
top of my ball sac really tripped my wires.

"Ooh yeah, buddy. You're gonna get my splooge. Aw yeah, that's it, guy,
suck it. Suck! Unmph!"

Suddenly, Gary Pendergast, Greenwich, CT, father of 3, was eating thick
glops of my ejaculation. He half-coughed as he gulped it, or rather got
injected, and I rode out my orgasm feeling the aftershocks spurt and
dribble into this tight, wet throat.

Finally, he pulled off, a big, sperm-spit smile on his face.

"Wow!" he said in a deep sex rasp, "That was incredible, Matt." He massaged
my still-tumescent cock. I couldn't tell if he was trying to milk out more
juice from the tip, but I'd already given it all up into his mouth. "I
guess you do like head as the main course."

I winked and gave a quick gentle pat to the side of his head. "When's
dessert?"

Gary grinned and started undoing his trousers. My cock sprung back fully
hard, ready for a grade-A daddy fuck.


***

I never told Jim I was fucking around with Gary behind his back, but I felt
guilty enough to make an offering of my own. Three weeks later, I'd brought
a man back from the bar. A traveling airline pilot who'd not cum in days. I
fucked him every which way till I finally flipped him on his back, crawled
into the saddle, and jackhammered both of us to orgasm.

His hairy torso was splattered in ropes of his own sperm as I pulled my
dick out and caught my breath. I really need to get laid more often, I
thought, as I admired the hunky guy regaining his composure.

"Whoa," he muttered. "Didn't know if I was up for you topping me, bud. But
man, I must have needed that. You really got my rocks off."

"You weren't the only one who needed that," I replied as I removed the
condom off my prick and showed it to him. The rubber contained one of my
healthier loads.

"You always such a take-charge guy?" he asked. "I didn't expect to end up
on bottom tonight." He didn't sound like he was complaining. If anything he
was too fucked out and satisfied for anything more than matter-of-fact
resignation.

I stopped to think. "Dunno, I guess I just needed it. I think you did, too,
big guy. Deep down, at least."  To punctuate my point, I reached down
between his still slightly-spread legs and pressed my finger against his
partially-agape asshole. I teased the now sensitive rim and pushed in a
little. "I hope you take this this wrong way, Big Guy, but... man o man,
you have a terrific hole... tight, hot, perfect..." In response, that hole
twitched and spasmed gently against my invading digit.

"Oh Jesus!" the pilot moaned. At first thought he was resisting the
post-ejaculate stimulation, only the man's prick started twitching and
lengthening. This guy had a nice dick - long and full - and I could see why
he would be use to taking the top.

"Something tells me this hole's still hungry," I teased. I pulled out my
index finger then penetrated the man with two fingers. The rectum was still
sopping wet with lube - I reflected on what this finger-fuck would feel
like with my fresh load in him.

I saw the resistance melt out of my new fuck mate. His burly upper body
relaxed and he leaned his head back. The only tension was in the arm grip
he now used to pull his legs up and back, opening up to me.

He looked so perfect just like this, this 40-something brunette airline
pilot. I had an idea. "I think you need some fresh artillery."

That made him lift his head up and look at me quizzically. "Huh?"

"My roommate. Wanna get fucked by my roommate?" I didn't know if the direct
approach was the best, but if not the tender massage I was giving his
prostate might be persuasive enough.

"Fuck, man, you're crazy," he huffed, but I noticed his erection still
pulsing, pearly precum pooling at the tip.

"Why not, man? Give me a chance to recharge before having another go at
this ass. Whaddya say? I think you need it tonight, Big Guy. Need it bad."
I now inserted three fingers into his magnificently taut hole.

"Oh man," the pilot cooed in a deep voice. I'm not sure whether it was my
fingers or the thought of being taken by another stranger. Maybe both.

"He's pretty hot, if that's what you're worried about." I leaned forward
until our faces were inches apart. The pilot guy, I still didn't know his
name, leaned up and met me in an intense kiss.

"Yeah? How hot?" His breath was getting shorter, more lustful.

"Rugby player, 6'3", blond, blue-eyed. A little beer gut but enough muscle
to power fuck you til tomorrow. Is that your type, buddy?"

The man now held his legs spread wide, his built, hairy chest and abdomen
contracted in the position.  Seemingly unable to speak, he nodded his
assent.

I smiled and scrambled off the bed. "I'll go get him."

Jim was watching TV in just a pair of gym shorts. His mostly smooth chest
stuck out, its hard perfection a contrast to the modest blond-fur covered
swelling a bit leading down to the elastic band. I stayed in perfect men's
magazine shape, with lean muscle and washboad abs, but Jim didn't bother,
relying instead on pure, uninhibited 24-year-old jock bulk. It never
prevented him from having a line of men coming in and out of his
bedroom. If anything, those guys seemed to love Jim's bod.

"What's up, Matt-O?" he asked between beer sips, his eyes never leaving the
late-night comedy monologue on TV. "How's your date going?"

Jim and l were pretty close buds and one of our favorite pasttimes was
trading blow-by-blow accounts of our conquests. The only thing I'd ever
withheld from him was my screwing around with his fuckbud Gary. I still
felt real guilty for that.

"In-fucking-satiable, bud."

"Yeah?" His eyes looked at me, registering for the first time that I was
nude with a good semi going.

"Yeah. And get this: he was a pilot on the United flight I took last week."

That made Jim smile. I was guessing he had an airline pilot fantasy,
too. "Then what are you doing standing out here, bud? I'd be pounding that
tail already."

"I did. Just resting up for round two." I paused before I made my
proposition. "In fact, I was thinking you could take over duties while I
recharge."

He looked at me intently. "You serious?"

"Serious as a heart attack. You game?"

"Hell yeah." He put down his beer and when he stood up, I could see the
start of a nice boner chubbing his shorts. He hooked his thumbs in the
elastic and pulled them down. I could see what made Jim's bottoms so happy
- a fat, perfectly proportioned fuck tool. "You know, Matt-O," he
said. "This is the first time we've shared."

Noticing the word first, I said, "There will be more?"

"Probably, bud. Why not share the wealth?"

I patted him on the back. There was a strange bond between me and Jim and
if we both weren't tops with a thing for older guys, I'm convinced
something would have developed between us.

I could tell my pilot guy was apprehensive, but when Jim appeared, his fat
erection leading the way, he smiled. "You weren't kidding," he said to
me. "Your roommate's hot."

"You said that about me?" Jim teased. "I'm touched."

I punched him gently in the arm. "Go on, doofus, you got some prime ass
handed to you on a silver platter."

Jim laughed and turned to the pilot. "My bud's got you primed up pretty
good?"

The man nodded. "Uh huh. Didn't think I was gonna get fucked tonight." He
spread his legs again, revealing his hair-dusted, lube-wet sphincter
sitting like a bullseye in between two muscled buns. "Now I'm about to get
it twice. From two complete strangers."

Jim climbed his burly body onto the bed, taking over on holding the man's
legs back. "Maybe that's how you like it." Matter of factly he started
rubbing his rockhard fat prick along the man's hairy trench. "No questions
asked. No one to answer to." He nestled the wedge cockhead against the
man's twitching hole. "Just good..." He slipped it in. "... hard..." More -
this guy was primed, all right. "... fucking!" With that, Jim slammed his
hips forward, and pulled back just slightly to let the man's insides
adjust.

"Holy fuck!" the pilot's deep voice reverberated off the bedroom walls. He
may have been wanting the direct assault but certainly wasn't expecting it.

"You like that dick, huh?" Jim teased, his smooth chest poked out big and
proud. My roommate sure loved being in the saddle, and I could tell he was
majorly into this airline pilot. We both had similar types, but when
swapping stories or scoping out guys at the bar, we'd divide older men into
categories. Jim teased me for liking the "model daddies" - those impossibly
in-shape, impossibly handsome older men you see in clothing catalogs or
erectile dysfunction ads. You know: dimples, pearl-white smile, twinkling
eyes, sun-tanned skin, and just the right amount of gray at the temples. A
tight, flat stomach was not necessary but a bonus. Gary from Connecticut
was grade-A Model Daddy.

Jim for his part liked Real Daddies. Not exactly out of shape but average
looking. Suburban dad next door. Jim would often pick out men that I
wouldn't notice at first blush, but inevitably when you looked closer you'd
realize how hot they were. Two things really did it for my friend: an
honest-to-god wedding band beaming on the ring finger, and knowing he was
fucking a real father.

Our airline pilot was Real Daddy extraordinaire. Some love handles attached
to a definite ex-military build from his Air Force days. His chest hair was
untamed and unfortunately hid what was probably a masterful pair of
nipples. The one Model Daddy quality Mr. United Pilot had was a
nearly-bubble pair of buns you rarely see on older guys. Jim and I were
connoisseurs about DILF-ass, too.

Jim humped his hips and elicited a deep moan from the man. "Gawd, that
dick's fat."

"Yep," my roomie huffed, now building up to a proper thrust. "My buddy's
got the length and I got the girth. We make a pretty good team, huh?" He
was outright fucking, now.

"You're not wearing a condom," the pilot interjected.

Jim reached down and rubbed the man's hairy chest and stomach. He was
appreciating doing a Real Daddy, all right. "C'mon, man, just let me open
you up a little first."

This was Jim's MO. Coaxing the guy, saying he was just gonna go bare for a
little while. He liked to boast about this technique. One time I asked how
many men ultimately insisted on a rubber. "None so far, Matt-O," he replied
with a leer.

The pilot was still showing some resistance. Jim leaned down and kissed
him, doing little jack-thrusts of his fat cock against the man's love
nut. "That's it, stud," he said leaning up into a push up position. "Let
loose. No one here but us. Just two horny tops wanting to make you feel
great. Isn't that what you want?"

The man's sexual chant was almost a whisper it was so quiet, but that made
it just that much hotter. "Oh yeah. Fuck me, you dumb jock. Fuck me with
that big fat cock of yours."

I thought Jim might get pissed off, but he just grinned and power drove his
thick stake deeper and incrementally faster. "Us dumb jocks are pretty good
for something, aren't we, sir?"

I could hear flesh-on-flesh slapping sounds now. I'd had some amazing sex
since moving to the city, but this scene was the hottest thing I'd
witnessed in a while. And it was only going to get more intense.

"Aw yeah, that dick's fucking filling me up."

"Tell me, sir, Mr. United Pilot," Jim growled. "Am I like him?"

It took a second for the man to answer. "Who?"

"Your son. You got a boy, right?"

He grunted. "Yeah. Two of 'em."

"Jocks?" Jim was really getting into this now. His hips were punching
forward like an engine piston, and even in the blur I could tell his cock
was iron rigid.

"Oh god!" The perversity of the situation was sinking in for the married
man.

Jim's hands caressed the fur on the man's torso. He was practically
snorting now. "I bet they're a pair of dumb jocks who don't know how to do
anything but fuck and play sports."

"Man," our fuckee cried, "Why are you doing this?"

Jim just powered on. "Cause you need it, sir. You need to get fucked like
this. Get it out of your system. You been holding it in, haven't you?
Looking at your boy's bodies, their dicks, and getting turned on."

The pilot was nearly in tears but his dick was mega-erect and dripping like
mad. I thought Jim was going to fuck it out of him at any
moment. Especially when the man reached up and grabbed my friend's
rugby-built arms.

"Tell me, sir," Jim cooed. "Are they blond, too? Your lunkhead, dumb jock
sons?"

He shook his head. "Yeah, they're blond. The older boy looks just like your
friend." He nodded my way. "That's why I let him fuck me. "

I could sense that this was as Real Daddy as Jim had experienced before. He
always said he wanted to join a real father-son team. Until that happened,
I guess this would do. He didn't even announce his orgasm. He just fucked a
little harder and growled and before we knew it, the pilot's hole was
soaked full.

Jim was still cacthing his breath as he extracted his thick, spermy
prick. Still pulsing and dribbling. "Finish him off, bud," he urged me.

I didn't need any encouragement. This pilot-dad was still in heat and I was
definitely recharged. I fucked in at full pace. "Gotta fuck you, Dad," I
said to him, looking him straight in the eye.

"Oh yeah, son. Fuck me. Fuck your daddy. Gonna fuck me off good?"

I don't know who was getting in whose head more, me or him. I kissed him
quickly, intensely.

"Damn straight, Dad. I missed you. You're away so long and I get so fucking
horny."

"I thought I taught you how to jack off, son."

"I wanted to save it, Dad. Been saving it for you."

"Yeah?"

"Yessir. Where you want it?"

"In me, son. Shoot it in your father." That thought must have tripped his
wires, cause instantly his body convulsed and a powerful spray of his
second load shot out over his torso.

I wasn't far behind. My dick twitched and shot. A lot. Adding my load to
Jim's. This man was sure getting loaded.

We finally climbed down from our highs and the pilot padded off to use the
shower.

Jim hugged my shoulder fraternally as we lie there on my bed, catching our
breaths. "Thanks bud. That was awesome. That's how you break in a daddy,
huh?"

"Jesus, Jim, how did you know?"

"Know what?"

"He had a thing for his sons."

"Maybe he was just going along with the fantasy."

"Yeah, I guess."

"But I doubt it. Sometimes you just get a sixth sense. I like feeling 'em
out to see what makes them tick."



***

As it turned out, I'd learn a lot about being a master top from Jim. From
then on, Jim and I shared more often than not.

The following week, I brought home a businessman from out of town who gave
me head while Jim fucked him.

Jim introduced me to his boss, Kevin, and the night after that, a guy from
Manhunt who wanted to celebrate his 50th birthday in style. It was like he
was trying to convert me to Real Daddies. It was working, at least if Jim
was picking them out.

One night, we were out with Mac and Ryan and we ended up at a bar that was
filled mostly with twinks. Incidentally that night was when we heard that
"Dadfuckers' Club" jibe, later on, as we were leaving. Anyway, at one
point, Jim finished off a pint and whispered in my ear. "I got a Model
Daddy you might like, Matt-O."

"Where?" I asked, looking around a sea of young men for someone. It was
fruitless.

"Remember that guy Gary?"

I played dumb. "Gary?"

"You know, suburban guy from a couple of months ago. Came over a few
times. 6'2" thinning hair, amazing rack."

I thought instantly of Gary's big pectoral muscle and thick vascular
nipples and smiled.

Jim punched me in the arm. "Yeah, you fucker. I thought Gary was your
type."

"Sorry, bud," I lamely apologized, but my dick was getting a rise.

"Well, I thought you might like a go. I know how you like to see big broad
dad titties jiggle when you fuck a guy." Like I said, Jim and I talked a
lot about our experiences in the sack.

"That would be hot," I replied.

"Cool," he said, pulling out his phone. "I just got a text from him. I'll
set something up."

A few texts and it was official. "He'll be at our place in 15 minutes. You
might want to go ahead over."

"You coming?"

"Nah, bud. Ryan and I are double-teaming a high school coach in town on a
school trip."

"Where's he find them? I think he's fucked every coach in the tri-state
area," I said. My other roommate, Ryan, was into Coach Daddies. Real
coaches if he could find them, or just men who looked like a coach.

"Tell me about it. I guess he's importing them from the heartland now."

"This one hot?" I ask.

Jim's eyes light up. I'm guessing Mr. Baseball Coach was enough Real Daddy
for him. "Like you wouldn't believe, buddy. I don't think that fucker knew
just how popular his Craigslist post would be. I don't know if we were the
first offer or the best."

Knowing Ryan's drop-dead gorgeous looks, I knew the answer to that.  "You
guys are sharing, too?"

"Yessir, Matt-O," Jim said, clapping his hand on my back like a big
brother. "Don't worry, we'll bring you in on the action too. It would be
fun to organize something one night in the loft."

That's how our little club was formed.