Date: Thu, 21 Apr 2016 11:40:15 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: "Just For Men"

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/115883176959/

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2016. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jursdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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I love hearing from you guys. a4f101@yahoo.com. Enjoy...

*****

"What's this?" Parker said, rooting around in the shopping cart, coming up
with the box. I looked away, trying not to blush, feeling awkward as he
examined the box of Just For Men hair color. He gave me a quizzical frown,
undershot with that easy grin of his. "What do you need this for? You've
barely got any grey. What you've got looks kinda... I dunno, distinguished,
I guess. Suits you."

"Well, uh, thanks, I guess," I muttered, taking the box back from him and
dumping it back into the cart. "But it's not for that."

Parker frowned again underneath the rolled brim of his old ballcap, his
eyes roving over my head, and then down to the neck of my button-down
shirt. I saw his frown turn into a knowing smile.

"Ah, I see," he said, and now I did blush, knowing he could see the silvery
hairs poking out from the V below my throat. For whatever reason, the
graying of my body hair had started right at the top of my chest, at the
top of the hairline there, becoming more mingled with my naturally dark fur
lower on my pecs. The rest of me was about as dark as I'd been since my
late teens, but the few romantic prospects I'd had since my divorce always
focused on that band of gray. I didn't really have much of a problem with
it - I was going on 50 now, it seemed pretty inevitable to me - but I could
sense it had made a difference to the couple of women I'd managed to get
that far with post-Carole. Like it made me lesser in their eyes, or
something. It was a little deflating, honestly, and it took most of
whatever joy there had been out of the whole experience. But I was still in
very good shape, very much available, and truthfully, getting a little
lonely. It wasn't about meeting needs as much as it was companionship,
about feeling desirable, so if dyeing my chest hair was what it took to get
those needs met, I guess that's what I had to do.

"Guess I never really figured you for somebody who'd care about that kind
of thing," Parker said a little while later, down in the deli section. I
bristled a little bit at the implication.

"I don't care," I said, a little sharply. "But apparently the cost of
re-entry into the dating world is a lot higher than it used to be."

"Not in my world," Parker said with that grin of his, and I felt awkward
again. He blindsided Carole and I both when he came out his junior year of
college, forced us both to reconsider a few long-held notions. I apparently
took it better than she did, but it was still surprising sometimes, even
almost five years later, having to remind myself that the big, good-looking
athlete son I'd always been so proud of had a whole life, a whole set of
experiences that was foreign to me. Well... mostly foreign. I'd been in the
Navy. I'd been... around, a little bit. But that was all a long time ago,
before marriage and Parker. Back when I'd felt on top of the world, a big,
virile young single man with no shortage of opportunities and
possibilities. Not the middle-aged suburban divorcee shopping for
humiliating hair color at the Harris Teeter.

"I guess I figured women liked it, the same way that a lot of guys do," he
said later, as we sat on the back deck after dinner with a couple of beers,
the tang of the grill smoke still in the warm spring air. "I dunno, maybe
the `Daddy' thing is specific to us gay dudes."

"Including you?" I blurted awkwardly, then mentally slapped myself. One too
many beers, I guess. Parker looked over me with a surprised grin, like he
was assessing how close we could talk. I'd always emphasized that between
us, being close, no BS, especially now he was a man in his own right, but
that had its limits.

"Are we, uh, really talkin' here, Dad?" he said. I shrugged. "Sit tight a
minute, then. I'll be back."

He disappeared into the house, big bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor
inside, then came back with a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. Poured us
a couple of shots, handed me mine, then clinked the glasses. Downed his in
one easy toss, and I figured what the hell, and did the same.

"Alright, I'll be honest with you," he said, grinning again. "There's sure
something to it. On the right guy, it's manly as hell. What's the
word... virile. It's different from being with some smooth-chested dude, a
younger guy. Like, it's all wrapped up in this idea of somebody more
experienced, who can show you things. Teach you things. Who knows what he's
doing, and how it's done."

I blushed, but kept listening. It was rare to get this kind of insight, and
I was interested, despite the circumstances. Despite the fact this was my
own son talking to me.

"Plus, y'know, an older guy has been around. He's seen a lot more of
life. Makes him more interesting than most guys my age are. Well, to me, at
least."

"That so, huh?" I said, and poured myself another shot. Parker was not
quite the spitting image of me at the same age, but close enough. Big,
athletic, good-looking. I guess I figured he was into guys like him, his
own age. It was a little weird to hear it from him, sure, but kind of... I
don't know, rewarding to know somebody out there found guys like me
attractive. Grey hair or no.

"Definitely so," he said with a lazy grin, pouring himself another
drink. This one he sipped, looking at me over the rim of the glass. Like he
was assessing me. If it had been anybody else, some stranger at a bar, I'd
almost believe he was checking me out. Had it happen more than a few times
back in the day, some other guy at the bar giving me that slow, masculine,
assessing look. Sometimes, that had turned into... well, best not to think
about that right now.

We were putting plates in the dishwasher when he saw the grocery bag, that
box of hair color sitting on top. He pulled it out, eyeing it skeptically
as he poured us both another drink. I meant to stop him, two was good
enough, but he was already dropping ice cubes in these and pushing the
tumbler my way as he read the instructions aloud.

"Jesus," he snorted dismissively. "I dunno how you'd get it to blend, make
it so it doesn't look like you got a chest hair transplant from Burt
Reynolds or something. And then the upkeep, having to keep doing it? Hell
with that."

He tossed the box into the trash can, and when I protested, waved his hand
at me. Took a slug of his drink. Fixed me with that grin, that assessing
look.

"Fuck that shit, Dad," he said, and I knew he had a good buzz going. "I'm
telling you, you don't need it. You're a handsome guy, a real catch, and I
think you look great just the way you are."

"Uh... well..." I stuttered, taking a big gulp of my bourbon to cover the
awkwardness I was feeling. He was always a confident, friendly kid, but
this was a whole different side to him. He really was like me, back in the
day.

Drink four, and at his request, I was showing him. The blinds were closed,
the doors were locked, and I was undoing the buttons of my shirt slowly. He
was a couple feet away from me, nodding encouragingly, sipping his drink,
his eyes on the growing expanse of my chest as I opened my shirt. I wasn't
totally sure how we'd got here, but it was too late to turn back now. Even
if I wanted to.

"Damn... you really do look good," he murmured. Then he reached over and
pushed my shirt off my shoulders. It fell to the floor, and I was
half-naked. I swallowed hard as he stepped in a little closer. I didn't
stop him when he reached up and traced his fingertips lightly over the gray
hair across the breadth of my chest. Down into the thickness of the fur
between my pecs, where it mingled with the natural dark brown I'd long
had. I could have stopped him, should have stopped him... but it had been a
long time since someone had touched me like this. Someone who clearly liked
me just the way I was. The man I'd grown into. Parker's thick fingers moved
over the solid mounds of my pecs, and brushed over my nipple, which
stiffened almost immediately. My cock was doing the same thing inside my
shorts. It looked like his was too. We both noticed. He gave me that
crooked, charming grin of his. Then his fingers trailed back over my chest,
down the valley between my pecs, following the fur trail down over my
still-flat stomach, and the dark, natural fur that spread across it.

"They don't know what they're missing, Dad," he said quietly. "How long's
it been?"

"Six months, almost," I said just as quietly, unable to stop myself. It
felt like I was under a spell, under Parker's spell, and I wondered if the
men who got to experience him knew how lucky they were. How well I measured
up to them.

"Shit, Dad," he frowned. "You deserve better than that. You deserve more."

His eyes were hypnotic, big and blue and warm, so hypnotic I barely noticed
him unbuckling my belt, my shorts, their quick fall to the floor. "Jesus,"
he whispered in an awestruck tone, and I looked down with him. My briefs
were tented hard, a big, pointed bulge in them, straining to get out. I was
a big guy down there, had certainly never had any complaints on that score,
and for some reason, I'd never felt bigger than I did right now, Especially
when he reached out slowly and cupped the big bulge gently, lightly testing
its size, its weight with his hand. I sucked in a sharp breath, and so did
he.

"Can I see you?" he said softly, and I found myself nodding. Letting him
reach to my hips, tug at the waistband of my briefs, slide them down my
strong, muscular thighs. And then I was fully naked in front of him, like I
hadn't been since he was a kid, and he was touching me again, all over,
like a man. Like I remembered those few men doing, way back when, in my
Navy days. How much I'd liked it, the contrast to how women would touch
me. How much I wanted to touch those men back, and did. How much I missed
that kind of experience, that kind of feeling.

"Jesus, Dad," he murmured, his hands moving worshipfully, respectfully,
sensuously through the fur on my body, over the warmth of my bare
skin. "You're fucking incredible."

"So are you, son," I found myself saying, loving the big smile he gave
me. "I'd like to see you too, if you want to..."

My son's clothes slid off easily, and I drank in the sight. It had been
awhile since I'd seen him even partly undressed in person, probably since
his early college days, and he looked amazing. Big-framed,
broad-shouldered, thicker than me, the body of a man now, with his own
tangle of chest hair on his big, muscle-rounded pecs. He had my long,
powerful legs, and I was proud to see a virtual twin of my thick, strong
cock, branching up from the thick dark curls of his groin. He nodded
encouragingly at me, and I found myself reaching out to touch the warmth of
his skin, his potent muscles, feeling my hard dick actually bounce at the
first touch. It bounced again when he leaned in and pressed his lips to
mine, tentatively at first, testing that next step. I moaned, parted my
lips against his, and we fell into it at last, two men hungrily searching
each other's mouths, tongues thick, wet and agile.

In my bedroom, Parker moaned deeply at the feeling of my hands on the
strong twin mounds of his muscular ass, at the tickle of my chest hair
against his broad back, the press of my lips on his neck, the throb of my
slowly dripping, pulsing cocktip against the tight, twitching knot of his
hole.

"Not like this," he moaned, turning in my arms on my bed, onto his back,
his cock slapping hard against his abs, drops of his precum flying against
our skin. "I want to see you, see your body, see your fur..."

I kissed him again, hard and deep, as his muscular thighs wrapped tightly
around me, pulling me against him. His cock throbbed hot and wet between
our bellies as we explored each other's mouths, his fingers tangling in my
gray-brown chest hair eagerly as he pushed his tight hole against the wet
sponginess of my cockhead. And then I was inside him, tighter and hotter
than I could have imagined, taking me back to my Navy days, and those few
rare, amazing times I'd done this with another man back then. It felt like
coming home as I slid slowly up inside him, finding that old, instinctive
rhythm as he moaned, grinned, panted, kissed me harder. Made love to me as
I slipped up inside of him, respectful, eager, and skilled at this.

"Show me what you know, Dad," he panted between deep, wet kisses. "Show me
how experienced you are. And I'll show you too."

With a grin, and a thrust, I did. I set to work, showing my big, handsome
son how much life was left in this old dog yet. Turns out, there was plenty
- and just for men, indeed.