Dad Bod? I Love It

She came again, her body awash in electric pleasure, as I stood up and flipped her back over, mounting her again. I stood at the foot of the bed and held her legs in the air. Her feet, smelly with sweat, hovered near my face and as I pounded my way back inside her, I sucked her tiny, pale, curled toes and licked her soles. Her smell was unlike any woman I've had before. So sweet and girlish, yet strong, primal.

She looked up and me and mouthed the words "hurt me" again, without saying them. I growled and thrust harder inside her, going as deep as I could. I leaned down and slapped her, then watched her reaction. She moaned and I slapped her again, harder. Then I grabbed her hair and pulled her up to me as she screamed in sharp pain.

"Whose cunt is this?" If she wanted it this way, I'd give it to her.

"Yours, Daddy," she gulped, tears in her eyes.

I spat in her face. She leaned her head back, clearly surprised. She eyed me with fear for a brief second, then grinned.

"You like that, you little slut?"

Lydia moaned and reach down to play with her clit again. I guess so.

"Keep hurting me, Daddy," she cooed. "Fucking destroy this slutty cunt."

I pounded as hard as I could, until I thought I'd have a hard attack. She bounced off the bed. Sweat flying everywhere. Finally, I erupted, shooting my cum inside her. This set off her - third? Fourth? I don't even know - orgasm and her eyes rolled back in her head.

We collapsed into a mass of spent, sweaty flesh. She curled around so we were wrapped side-by-side and pulled my arm over her waist, to make me spoon her as we just sprawled out, panting, exhausted, and thoroughly, dreamily satisfied.

As my senses returned I watched her body move as she breathed in and out, heavy breathing. Lydia was a dream girl for me. At this point in my life, I never could have expected her. I would have dreamed in futility about someone like this when I was her age. But now ... how did this happen? I just couldn't quite process it yet.

"So," I began, not really knowing how to begin talking about what just happened.

Lydia rolled over and grinned at me. "So," she repeated. We both just started laughing and she nuzzled her face into my chest, very cozy.

"Can I ask you a question I probably shouldn't ask?" I continued, simultaneously wondering why in the hell I was questioning my good fortune.

Luckily, she didn't make me say it. "Are you going to ask why an 18-year-old girl like me would want to fuck a 40-year-old man like you?"

I gulped. "42, actually."

Lydia playfully slapped my arm. "Whatever. You and your 42-year-old ... dad bod."

She ran her fingers over my rounded belly, and played with my chest hair. I realized in that moment what she was about to tell me - my body was part of the appeal for her.

Nevertheless, I said, "Yes. 'Dad bod' is about the right name for it. Probably the polite name."

"You probably think I should want some fit guy my own age. Some Zac Efron type, right?"

"Well, I don't know about 'should.' And I definitely don't know about Zac Efron. But basically ... yeah, that's what's in my head. I gotta admit."

Lydia raised her head and gave me a quick peck on the lips. "Now, why on earth would I want someone like that when I already have someone like that?"

I scrunched my brow. "Huh?"

"Me, silly," she responded. "I'm a 18-year-old girl. What does an 18-year-old guy bring to the table that I don't already have? He's superfluous."

I smiled. "Superfluous. Damn girl, breaking out the vocab guns."

She ignored me and rolled back down into my chest. "I'm serious. You're so ... different from me. Your body is different. Your mind is different. Your life experiences. That's exciting. Why would I want someone so much like myself? What do I get out of that?"

Honestly, I didn't know how to answer that. To suggest that simply a younger, fitter guy might be hotter would be both superficial and ignore the role of subjectivity in attraction. To suggest that young people are better off interacting with other young people would be absurd, since once we get older, we all know young people do idiotic things together. But what about ...?

"You have more in common, I guess?"

Lydia offered a derisive snort. "You like sex. I like sex. What more do we need in common?"

Again, it was a beautifully simple point that was hard to argue. And still, for some reason, I was trying. "I don't know. School, music ..."

"So I turn to someone older and wiser who can help me through things like school, things he's already lived through, things he's wise about. Wouldn't that be smarter of me?" she responded. "We already know we both love theatre. And today's music sucks. I'd rather listen to the Beatles or Fleetwood Mac anyway."

"The Beatles? How old do you think I am?" I stuck out my tongue at her and she giggled.

"You know what I mean," she replied. "And anyway, I love your dad bod. It's so unlike mine."

"No argument there," I said.

"Your shape is so unlike mine. It's strong and thick and round ... and so fucking hairy," she almost purred. "Our bodies complement each other. Yours is everything mine isn't and mine is everything yours isn't. Bring them together, and it something new and beautiful. Like a chord in music, or mixing red and blue to create purple."

"Or two characters creating a scene on stage," I added.

"Exactly!" she slapped my chest in excitement, like I was the inexperienced one learning new concepts - and I guess in a way, I was.

"But what about the power imbalance?" God, why was I still talking?

"Power imbalance?" She frowned and glared at me.

"Yeah. I mean ... Don't you worry that ... I don't know ... I'd be taking advantage of you or something?"

"First of all," she began, and I knew I was really in for it - she sounded like a confident woman twice her age - "it's cute, and kind of insulting, that you think it's possible for you to take advantage of me, that I don't know exactly what I'm doing at all times, and do it intentionally. Trust me. I may be younger than you, but I wasn't born yesterday."

"Point taken," I gulped.

"Second thing, all relationships have a power dynamic of some sort at work in them. Or they do if they're natural, anyway," she continued. "Equality sounds nice, but again, why would I want someone so much the same as myself? What does that bring to the relationship that I don't already have?"

Silently, things were starting to heat up again. As we talked, our hands began to roam over each other's bodies. Her feeling my muscles, playing with my body hair, and teasing my cock with her delicate fingers. Me feeling all over her smooth legs, gently squeezing her tight buttocks, and planting kisses on her neck.

"And third, stop thinking of it as old-man-takes-advantage-of-young-women. You guys always do that. You think you're being the good guy and being protective of us, but it's always about you all," Lydia said. "I think older men and younger women fit together better. You've paid your dues in life. You offer us wisdom, know-how, confidence, and one hell of a dad bod. And we offer you energy, idealistic thinking ... the ability to feel young again.

"Trust me, I understand. I saw it with my own dad," she continued. "He was miserable with my mom. It wasn't anything she did, they both just had less and less in the tank as the years went on and neither one offered each other anything different - they were too much alike. When they separated and he started fucking my babysitter, I saw the change in him. He was a different man. Stronger, happier, more confident. They just worked together, gave each other different things, in a way I'm not sure he and mom ever did, even when they were young."

I'll admit, it was a little weird, listening to her talk about her dad - specifically her dad's sex life - while we were naked, in bed, pawing at each other. But this was no normal night. Might as well go with it.

"But the same is true for older women and younger men," she said. "Every boy I know that I went to school with could benefit from an older, sexually experienced woman to show him stuff. To show him what women like, where everything is, and to give him confidence if he's been rejected by bitchy high school girls. To help make him a man. And the older women benefit from the youth and energy of the young men. Every relationship - every sexual relationship, at least - is better off imbalanced."

"Hmmm," I pondered with a grin. "So you plan on being a cougar when you're my age, huh?"

"Hey, you better believe I plan on having my fun. I'll have paid my dues and earned it," she responded. "Especially if my husband is out fucking hot 20-year-olds himself, and for the sake of our partnership, he better be."

I just laughed. She had it all planned out. Everything she said was so unexpected to hear - out of anyone's mouth really, but especially hers. And yet, it all made sense. It was all said with preternatural conviction.

"Got it. So you're going to marry someone your own age, and fuck other people. I guess that makes me just a fling," I said with mock-offense.

She grinned and shrugged, then kissed my hairy chest. "Maybe. Maybe when I'm 40, I'll have a husband in his 60s, and we'll both be fucking hot 20-year-olds. You never know."

I moaned as she kissed my chest, then started moving her way down my belly with soft kisses and kitten-like licks. "So you really like this dad bod, huh?"

"It's beautiful," she said. "You should be proud of it. I want you to be proud of it and feel sexy."

"I'm glad you think so," I replied, still unsure how to do what she suggested. Meanwhile, her mouth had found my cock, and took long, teasing licks up the shaft. She ran her tongue around the edge of my peehole and sucked playfully on the head.

"I love all your textures, your hair, your cellulite, the wrinkles on your hands and body," she said. "I love how you taste. How you smell. So strong and musky. You smell so different from me. You smell like how a man should smell."

With that, she spit on my cock, and drooled on it slowly for what seemed like an eternity. She looked so sexy, so animal-like, as she stared at me with intense eyes, her mouth agape, a long strong of spit oozing from her mouth to my dick before giving it another big loogie for extra lubrication to jack it with her hand. She then lifted up my cock and pushed my belly up a little to gain better access to my balls. My hairs there were wild and unkempt but that didn't bother her as she licked them and took each ball into her mouth to suck in, moaning happily as she did.

"You like the taste of my balls, kitten?" I said, starting to ease into this new and unexpected role more. She murmured in agreement, her mouth full, and sucked hard on them, still working my cock with her hand.

She pulled away with a gasp and wiped her mouth of her spit before asking in this oh-so-hot low, husky moan of a voice, "Do you want me to eat your ass, Daddy?"

I'd love it, but I never imagined she'd want to. None of my other partners had really embraced the idea. It was a big turn on for me, but they always made me feel gross, like it was a big thing to ask of them.

"I'd love for you to," I replied. Then my neurotic side broke back through. "I hope it's not too -"

"Shhh," she put her finger to her lips. "Remember my shirt?"

I did indeed. The one that said, "That's gross. I love it." I decided to stop questioning her and just trust her completely in that moment.

"You smell so good, Daddy," she said. "Your ass is dirty and musky and sweaty. It makes my sweet little pussy so wet.

"Sometimes," she continued, getting out bits of sentences between licks, "I like to put my finger ... down in my own ass ... and smell it and taste it ... and it's good, but so different. ... Your ass smells so manly ... so filthy ... like an animal in heat. ... I love it. ... It makes me feel like an animal too."

With that, she stopped talking and plunged her face fully between my cheeks, rubbing my ass all over her face and tonguing my little hole. She slurped greedily around it, then pushed her soft, pink little tongue inside the rim, and started fucking my asshole with her mouth. It was the single sexiest thing anyone had ever done to me. I let go of my inhibitions and embraced the idea completely that she loved this beat-up old body as it was, accepted it for what it was.

"Yessss, baby," I cried. "Eat Daddy's ass. Get your face right there in my dirty butthole and lick it clean, you filthy little gutterslut. Be a dirty bitch for Daddy."

She pulled away again and moaned, "God, I love your stinky old man ass. I'm so fucking hot right now," and started playing with herself as she buried her face in my butt again and continued jerking me off. That did it. I blew so hard, it was like a geyser. She jumped to her feet and rushed to lick my spilled cum off my belly, continuing to play with herself. Then she turned around, used her thighs to grab my head like a vice, and started humping my face, rubbing her ass all over it as I licked any hole that found its way in front of me.

The evening didn't end for a while. I ate her until she came again, we rested, then I gained the renewed energy to fuck her once more. She was right; her youth revitalized me. I fucked her pussy with my fingers, then used the wet digits to probe her tight and tiny asshole.

This time she wasn't so eager to be hurt. "Go slowly," she said. "I've never taken anything as big as your fingers back there before."

I eased the wet finger inside at a glacial pace, just pressing against it at first, nudging it, until eventually it slipped inside. God, she was so soft inside, and so warm. It's almost indescribable. Unless you've been in an ass like that ... She stretched across my chest in a 69 position as I did, sucking my cock vigorously, slurping on it and covering it with her spit in a messy blowjob and she worked me with her hand like a pro.

I felt her asshole gradually get used to me being inside it. I worked my finger at a steady pace, back and forth, twisting and writhing inside her. Occasionally, she'd let out little farting noises, but as the girl had reminded me tonight, bodies are beautiful as they are - and the sound of her ass responding to its invasion just made my cock harder.

"Fuck my ass, Daddy," she cooed. "Break me in."

I made sure to work her asshole with my fingers for a long time, eventually adding a second to help stretch her out. But soon I was behind her, pushing my thick piece of meat up against her throbbing butthole. Her once more girlish aroma from her ass had turned stronger, smellier, like mine. I pushed my way in slowly, my cock slick and lubed all over.

Soon, I was deep inside her bowels. Almost molten, hot, soft, and such an intense grip around my shaft, practically devouring me and sucking me into her. She grunted and sweated as she fucked back against me even as I thrust inside her, making low guttural unladylike noises alternating with sharp high-pitched squeals through short breaths. She fingered her clit aggressively and flung her juices all over my bed. Our grunts formed a chorus with the wet slapping of my balls against her as I fucked her, and the obscene squelching noises made by my cock moving inside her slick and sucking anus.

I brought my hand down on her ass and spanked her repeatedly as I fucked her mostly-virgin ass, leaving bright pink handprints on her pale, sensitive skin. She gasped the first time, screamed bloody murder the second, and wailed and cursed every time after, a sewer-like flow of obscenities pouring from her girlish mouth. Soon, she started another orgasm, this one a marathon - it didn't seem to stop, but continued to build and mutate as her body twitched, her muscles tensed, and her noises turned otherworldly.

I shot my cum into her body one more time, this time into her musky bowels. I pulled out, my cock covered in her slime, and went to go wash up as she collapsed in a puddle of her own melted flesh on the bed, still twitching and jerking as she came down off of her orgasmic high. I returned after washing off my cock, scooped her up in my arms, and held her there, nestled up against my dad bod as she drifted off to sleep.

I'll never forget the next morning, waking up with her there. Her eyes were already open when my lids raised, and she was staring at me adoringly.

"Thank you for last night," she said. Her gentle morning voice was so different from the animal she'd become the night before.

"Thank you, Lydia," I said, and kissed her on the forehead. "And thank you for giving this old body the time of its life. It's never been like that. Never."

Lydia smiled, snuggled in closer, and just said, "Good." She rubbed my chest, kissed my cheek, and we basked in the morning rays coming through the windows, our bodies - one old and large and rough, one young and small and smooth - entwining together to create a new body, a beautiful one built out of an aesthetic dichotomy.

I'm happy to say that now, at the age of 45, I come by the term "dad body" honestly - I'm an actual dad, now. Lydia and I continued to see each other and fell in love, despite the disapproval of some others (but thanks to those who were supportive). We're now wed, with a healthy son, and another child on the way. I've never been prouder to proclaim that yes, I have a "dad bod."