I’m tall, and used to wear long hair down my back in a big braid. I lived at the gym. My friends called me Thor. I have a nice big, fat cock and know how to use it. I would fuck any hot boy that walked. They often ended up calling me ‘sir’, even though all the master/slave stuff didn’t interest me.
We all get older. We can’t work out all the time. The golden fur curled out from a treasure trail to cover my slightly beefier belly and my muscular chest and arms. My hair is short now and I sport a beard that tends to go gold and red in the summer.
The boys that ignored me in my glory days were waiting for me to get to my 40s. I have numbers for the hottest 20-somethings I could fuck any time I wanted. More often than not, now, I was looking for a date, a scotch and a good talk before I watned to use my skillful hands, mouth, body and cock to get some stud to give up his virgin “top” hole to my thick hungry dick.
My best friend these days is a tall, square-shouldered redhead from work named Rhonda. We traded stories of being dominant with men. She joked with me about my search for a long-term thing, telling me I was turning into a lesbian.
She’d been shacked up with some guy for a few weeks and I hadn’t seen her much. She asked me to meet her out at this place called the Watering Hole for a few drinks, maybe meet her new beau.
The place was a little trashier than I expected. I got some cheap Irish whiskey with lots of ice and leaned againts a wall in my shorts and Hawaiian shirt, watching the undersea ballet of beautiful young bodies grind against each other. Seemed like a tangle of straights and gays. Not too surprising South of Market.
The young made way for Rhonda. She was kind of a Norse queen. She joked the 2 of us were royalty. And you knew what happened to Norse heroes….
We hugged. She was looking radiant, sweaty, happy. We joked with each other. She asked me how my lesbian life was going. I told her to fuck off, but I was thinking about how long it’d been since I’d been the one who’d been swept off his feet. How my ass longed to get fucked even while my brain protested.
“Okay, so I’ve told Lan all about you,” Lan was her guy, apparently, “and he’s dying to meet you.” Her smile was big. That made me a little nervous for some reason.
Rhonda got me a larger glass of cheaper whisky. It was a little cloudy and had a bitter aftertaste. But even on my big body with all my resistance to liquor, it started making me warm and relaxed. I found myself subtly flexing for boys who were noticing me.
She brought Lan back with the third round of drinks. Mine a repeat of whatever strong, crappy whisky she’d gotten me. He was intensely hot. Maybe Italian, or Turkish. Not her usual type, which was mine too: thin, smooth, boyish. This was a *man*. He was little, maybe 5’9, but built. Big shoulders, big pex. A light dusting of dark hair on his arms. He was wearing a black UnderArmor compression top and he looked like a gladiator with his hawk nose, his crop of black beard stubble. He was wearing chinos that showed a big bubble butt and a big package pushed out the front.
I realized Rhonda and Lan had been talking. I felt kind of out of it. I had a huge grin plastered on my face.
“I guess you like him, huh, ‘Thor’?” Rhonda joked at me. She reached over and slapped my dick in my linen shorts. I hadn’t realized I’d gotten hard and was poking out obscenely. At 45, I didn’t really just get spontaneously hard anymore.
“Ya, hey, Lan. Nice to meet you, man.” I stuck my hand out across the table. I was weirdly unembarrased. Not that I got embarrased too often anyway, but with my fat dick tenting my shorts….
He took my hand in that power grip dudes do to power trip other men. He had big hands for a little guy, turning my slightly bigger hand under. My dick throbbed.
“Lan and I have had a really great time, haven’t we Lan?” she smacked his ass hard enough I knew he liked it, and that he wasn’t wearing any underwear – maybe a jockstrap. I could feel my cock splurt onto my linen shorts, getting them wet. Why did I feel 19 again?
“And, ‘Thor’, I told him all about you, and everything you and I have talked about,” she went on, stroking his ass. Was Rhonda offering me her boyfriend to fuck? She knew I wasn’t into the ladies….
“I think he needs a hug, Lan,” she said, stepping back.
He moved around the table and slowly laced his arms around my middle, pressing the big bulk of his little muscle body against my much bigger body. He flexed his massive six-pack against my cock. He was sweating through the UA top and it felt good against me. I sighed and rested my arms around his shoulders. He moaned into my chest hair and then turned his head and squeezed like little guys always do, across my floating ribs. I flexed my abs so I could take the deadly cobra squeeze. It hurt like hell, but my dick jumped against him, squirting precum through my linen shorts onto his already-wet shirt. He’d been dancing.
I kissed the top of his head the way the boys like. He eased up on the squeeze and moved both hands to my big muscle ass and squeezed hard, digging in. I groaned involuntarily.
It was a little while later. I’d lost some time. Rhonda and I were sitting on the couches at the back of the club, screened by a bunch of 8mm strips of celluloid as curtains.
Rhonda was holding the sides of my face. It was intimate, but not sexual.
“You’re so big, David,” she said, using my name. “I wasn’t sure how much to give you, are you okay?”
I felt soft, open, happier than I’d been in years. I’d leaked so much precum my shorts were slick with it all the way down to my ass. I was swimmy and happy. I nodded.
“I know you have trouble letting go. We are so close, I wanted to give you what you wanted. I wanted to make you happy, becuase your advice and your friendship has meant so much to me.”
I nodded, smiling big, wanting to kiss her on the cheek. To hug her. To have a cock up my ass.
“Tell me the real truth, David. Do you really want to let go? Do you really want to feel the other side of that dominant energy you’ve held for so many men over the years to make them happy? Are you really interested in letting go and having a beautiful man take charge of you? David, I really want to know the truth.”
The truth had been slowly busting its way out of me. The truth had been building for 20 years, since I became dominant because so many dudes saw my size and my strength and my strong personality and wanted me to tie them up, fuck them, dominate them, be in charge of their hot little holes.
In a huge flash I saw how I’d really been a kind of submissive the whole time, changing myself to make other men happy.
I looked into her green eyes. She was a queen. But I was no king. I was a hero, maybe. I was a servant, not a ruler. “Oh, my god, Rhonda, for that guy? For Lan, God, yes.” I waited a moment, and the begging came out of me, “Please. Will you let him have me?”
I was horrified at myself in the background. I’d stuck my fat cock in so many beggin boys. And this sounded just like them. I’d always kind of been disgusted by their weakness and turned on by how I was strong… but I was weak. That exact same way. Dominating them all while not being dominant myself made me that way.
Rhonda pulled on my beard. It hurt a little. “David, really? Do you want him to have you? Lan and I figured out that’s what he needs. To be with a man he can own.”
I nodded. I reached up with my big hands and pulled her strong, smooth hands away.
“It’s what I’ve always wanted.” I was harder than I’d ever been. And content while I freaked out. My ass clenched and unclenched. Maybe now I’d finally have a reason to own all those butt plugs I’d bought and never used.
She nodded. Satisfied.