Peter Goes Gay Sub for Daddy Ch. 01

On the practical side, I knew nothing of our finances, or what she did, when she "went to work." She might as well have been in the CIA, for all I knew. When I'd ask, she would say something like it's just boring work stuff, you don't need to worry yourself about that.

She was the sole heir of a dot com billionaire father. But he had sold his company and retired long ago. So, what she did was a total mystery. I sometimes wondered if there was a clause or something requiring her to be married to me, or someone like me, to inherit her father's fortune. Or, more likely, she enjoyed causing emotional pain, while getting her rocks off sexually, and needed a dupe like me to do it.

The last time was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. I suspected something just before it happened too. Her daily texts were usually sweet: "How's Ur day?" "Any plans?" "Missing U." But that day it was a terse: "U home by three?" I had a meeting with a potential editor for a freelance writing gig. But she'd been gone a week, and I had no idea where; I was on alert as I walked in the apartment around 3:30. I heard them, soon as the front door shut.

For a moment, I thought about just walking back out the door, skipping the drama, and letting her have her fun without me. But I didn't! I opened the master bedroom door!

Inside with my "wife," were my two oldest friends, George and Alec, whom I knew since college. She was sandwiched between them, with Alex in her ass and George in her pussy, on her back, legs spread and up by her shoulders, craning her head around George's shoulder to face the door, when I walked in. She made the melodramatic sad face—like a tragic Greek mask—lifted her index finger from her leg around her left ankle, and wiggled it at me.

"Fuuuck, oooh, ooh, fuck! I'... ummm... sooo, so, fuckin' sorr-ummmmph-ry, fuuuck, honey! Your friends have big cocks. Nothing like your little peapod, my teeny weenie Petey? Oooph! Fuck me, yessss!" She shouted and cackled.

I stood there glued to the spot, as usual. She hadn't even met these guys; we barely spoke these days. She must have tracked them down just to hurt me, to ratchet up the emotional pain. I felt nauseous, I had to get out of there. I ran out the door. For a second, in the foyer, I hesitated, but then just grabbed my bag with my laptop and got out like I was on fire.

It felt like I had been living a dream for the last year and a half, and seeing my oldest friends fucking my wife had brought reality back. I spent a few days in a hotel. I didn't respond to her texts, until the third day. I agreed to meet her in a public place. I was determined to end things and knew if we were alone, she would somehow beguile me back.

She was like Circe, an enchantress, who would lure me into accepting the most lurid situations with honeyed tones and a smile. I told her I wanted out, and, for once, she seemed sincere. I don't know if it was yet another feint or if she truly was sorry, but I was not dissuaded. I said I couldn't play her game anymore. She teared up and pleaded, promising she would never do it again, but I managed to stay firm, though it was difficult, and I waivered a few times.

In the end, she was very generous. The prenuptial agreements I had signed entitled me to not a dime from her, and I didn't expect or ask for anything. But she gave me an apartment and a $5k monthly allowance for two years, to help me re-establish my faltering writing career. I was still a bit creeped out by what she did, but mostly, I felt grateful. We settled the divorce amicably and remained friends; we even exchanged apartment keys for emergencies, our apartments being less than five blocks apart.

I resolved to remain celibate to recover from the ego-cide of being cuckolded by my two oldest friends and more than a few strangers. It wasn't quite like finding one's long-time faithful wife in the arms of another man; our marriage was more like a fling, but the emotional pain was real enough to me.

My slightness and penis size made me body-conscious. Marsha's comments about my penis were a source of humiliation, especially in front of her bulls and my former friends. I wanted to check out the gym, and because I worked on my own schedule, I could do it when it would be least likely to be occupied. In the middle of a weekday, so 11am on a Tuesday, hoping to avoid encountering any intimidating musclebound alpha men, I walked into the gym.

My apartment (8G) was on the eighth floor and the gym, a converted three-bedroom apartment still baring the basic footprint, was on the 10^th. The wall between the master bedroom and the living/dining/kitchen area had been removed and the walk-in closet turned into a four-person sauna. The gym was small, but well-equipped. The master bedroom was now a yoga/aerobics "studio" with a glass wall.

There were stationary bikes, free weights, and multipurpose weight machines and elliptical steppers, which was where I spent my time. As expected, I found no one in the gym when I used my keycard and headed over to the stepper. I was setting the program and plugging in my earbuds, when I heard the door open. I plugged in and started stepping, hoping to ignore the new arrival.

My stepper faced the abductor—the thigh-squeezing machine. A big tall, robustly built, hirsute man came across my peripheral vision and towards it. He oozed masculinity, just the kind of man I found most intimidating. As he worked himself into the machine and glanced at me, I pointedly looked down at my machine, adjusting the controls up and down to avoid eye contact. It was to no avail, the next time I glanced over, he was smiling at me, saying something I couldn't hear. I took off one earbud.

"Hi, I'm Noah. I'm in 9G. Haven't seen you before; you must be new?"

"Yes, I'm Peter; I'm beneath you... uhm... I mean below.... errhm, I mean... downstairs from you in 8G. I moved in... two... no three weeks ago." I sputtered, nervous and apprehensive.

His big bulky manly body flexing and bulging in the machine, as I stuttered and stumbled through my words. His face like the rest of him was huge, but handsome. He wore a neatly trimmed mustache and a rakish goatee. He was in his early fifties, it turned out, but only looked about thirty-five. He had an easy smile and a very calm demeanor.

"Oh, so we have the same apartment; I'll show mine, if you show me yours, haha. You like the building?"

"Uhm... yeah, it's great... so convenient..."

I was getting antsy. The guy seemed friendly enough, but he was so physically imposing. I felt anxious, like I was a gnat he could swat any time he felt like. I gestured toward my earbud entreating we go on with our workouts. He waved me on.

"Sure, sure, sorry. I know I talk too much... but we should do coffee sometime; I could fill you in on building gossip..."

I nodded and finished getting my earbud back in and proceeded stepping as he began to scrunch his legs in the abductor. His legs started forced open, and he squeezed them together. I could see from the stack; he was moving a lot of weight. His colossal thighs bulged against tiny 1980s style running shorts. As he tensed his leg muscles, I could see the outline of a huge penis, bigger than anything I had ever seen, under the thin nylon of the skimpy shorts.

I was trying hard not to stare, or at least, not get caught, but the eel-like beasts slithered its way down the massive leg and was about to peep out the bottom of the inadequate shorts. Still flaccid, it was more than three times the size of my little thing at full mast. I was doing mental calculations, estimating the time the head would poke below the hem of the shorts.

Each rep brought the moment nearer, as the shorts drew up and the cock slunk further down. I took what I thought were quick circumspect glances; but I knew he had caught me, when I looked up from his crotch into his soft brown eyes. He was smiling in the same placid manner as before, stopped tensing his legs, and gestured to his own ears, for me to remove my earbuds.

I did so, anxiously. I was caught dead-to-rights staring at his huge alpha male penis, while eagerly awaiting the emergence of its head out of his shorts. I was deathly afraid of what was to happen. In that split second before removing the earbuds, I imagined all sorts of horrible scenarios, most leading to physical injury.

"You like what you see, faggot?!" He said brusquely. I trembled like leaf in autumn, but he was still smiling that soft gentle smile.

"Uhm... I uh... I-I-I..."

"Wait, let me guess... you're not a faggot? That's why there's a wet spot on your shorts and your teeny peenie is standing at attention?"

"Ugh... uh... ooh. No! I swear I'm-m-m-m straight, dude. I don't know whaaa..."

I looked down at the tiny tent in my shorts (missed laundry pick up, so no underwear) and, sure enough, there was a wet spot there from my dripping little pecker. He got up and out of the machine abruptly, faster and more nimbly than I expected from such a large man, and was in front of me in an instant. I closed my eyes and held my breath expecting one of those violent scenarios was about to unfold.

"Okay, my mistake, little Petey. Maybe you're not a fag. But you want to touch it, don't you? You want to see it? Just to know that it's real? You've never seen a cock this big, yesss...?"

He cooed at me disarmingly, then he very tenderly took my hand in his giant bear claw and led it to where the monster lay nestled in teeny silky shorts. "I should pull away!" I thought, but couldn't. He was not forcing my hand, only gently guiding it.

He was right! I did want to feel it to know it was real. I convinced myself it was just curiosity; how could a penis be this big? When I felt it, it was already bigger than on the machine. Only semi-erect, I couldn't get my small delicate fingers around it. It felt alive in my hand, writhing like a sea serpent. I grasped and worked it, his hand no longer holding mine; I felt its hot power.

"You want to do more than feel it, don't you, Peter? C'mon, honey. It's okay, baby."

I was suddenly very emotional with his big dick in my had. I was whimpering and teary. I sniveled, and he reached out and wiped my tears tenderly with his massive thumb. His voice was honey: calm, sweet, comforting—not aggressive or imposing, despite his manly bulk, but soothing and reassuring. I was thinking this thing couldn't belong to the same species as mine.

His demeanor took away my fear and trepidation. He led me off the stepper like a belle at a ball, and guided me gently toward the sauna; I followed only half-conscious, but still nervous. My little peenie, though, was so hard it hurt. I could summon no resistance. I felt so aroused; the need to cum overwhelmed every other priority; I would do anything for it, like never before.

As we move toward the sauna, I looked anxiously over at the front door.

"No worries. Deadbolt from the inside." He said to my unasked question. But, how could he know...? I couldn't focus on that question too long.

"C'mon, baby. I'm going to make you feel really really good, like you never felt in your whole life. I promise, little Petey."

"But, I'm not gay." I said unsteadily, my conviction wavering.

"No, no, no, honey. Of course, you're not, don't worry about that, just come here by me, so you can get what you need."

On shaky legs, I took the few steps that separated us. He had me lift my arms up, and took off my T-shirt, then pulled down my shorts and had me step out of them. I was standing naked before this big burly man, who inspected me like I was competing at The Westminster Dog Show. He twirled me around, gently caressing my buttocks and fondled my painful erection.

"Oh, aww, honey, you really are happy to see me? You want me to make you feel good?" He said, kindly like some kind of sex genie.

I nodded in a trance-like state, as he gently fondled and nuzzled my tiny package.

"I'll make you feel good first, but then you'll help me feel good, okay, little Petey, honey? It won't make you gay. I promise. Just two men making each other feel good."

"Uhm, hm." I nodded eagerly accepting the phallic-logic of the proposition.

Then, something I had never felt in my life; he swallowed me whole and hummed and gulped on my diminutive penis and testicles. I was ready to come almost instantly. I don't know why exactly—maybe the last of my pride—but I held back with all my will. He pulled me out his mouth just in time. Only as he let me out, did I become aware of my own loud continuous moaning.

"You really like that, don't you, honey?" He said, licking his chops like a cat after a meal.

All I could do was nod dumbly, and moan lowly. He reached around behind me, squeezing my asscheeks apart, and made his way to my hole with big sausage fingers. I was terrified about this possibility, I squirmed and put my hand back there to stop him; but he put my tiny peenie back in his mouth and suckled on it. It felt so good, I couldn't resist, I let him push my hand away and only gasped loudly when he poked a fat finger into the entrance of my hole.

"No, please, Noah... I'm not..."

I tried vainly to pull away, but he sucked up my genitals, swallowing me whole again. The feeling was otherworldly. No one had ever sucked my penis; Marsha had said, "it's too small to bother with." The other two women I'd been with must have thought the same.

His finger continued to explore my hole. My fear and the pain dissipated, and I began to enjoy it; rather than pulling away, I pushed back to get more in. He noticed and made me spread my ass with my hands. I did whatever he said. I was spellbound by what was happening to me. I couldn't decide which felt better: my peenie in his mouth or his fat fingers opening my hole. I ping-ponged between pushing my ass back to his fingers and forward into his hot mouth.

Amid this deliberation, I knew I was about to cum. I tried to pull away so as not to come in his mouth, but he held me tight, with his fingers deep in my ass, as I squirted in the most intense orgasm I had ever had to that point. He held me in his mouth until I stopped spasming and shuddering from cumming so hard, while holding two fingers in my hole.

He stood up and kissed my tiny load into my mouth. As I calmed myself down from the orgasm by squeezing his fingers with my ass muscles, it felt amazingly reassuring. He took them out and guided me politely to my knees in front of him. He stood and had me pull off the tiny shorts housing his magnificent cock. It plopped out in front of me, and my mouth literally watered at finally seeing it whole. I reached for it with my chin, but he held me back.

"You want to suck my big cock, don't you, little Petey?"

He had to know I did; my mouth was making sucking motions, and I was drooling, but he made me admit it first. I nodded eagerly, and he slapped my face playfully.

"Peter! Tell me what you want!"

"Yes, I want to suck your cock! Please, may I suck your cock?"

I did want to, so badly. I didn't really understand it; had never considered, but just then I wanted nothing more in the world than repay him for the transcendent pleasure he had just given me. His cock looked delicious to me.

"Okay, honey you can suck my cock. This doesn't make you a faggot, does it?"

"Uhmmmm, nmmmm," I moaned, as I filled my mouth with his cock.

I didn't want to think about the question, I just wanted to reciprocate the pleasure he had just given me. I had never sucked a cock before. All the real dicks I had ever seen were fucking my wife, but I had some idea about how it worked. I knew to keep my teeth out of the way, though at first, I'm sure I was not successful. But he was kind and patient; I looked up at him grateful for his kindness. He smiled graciously.

His cock is big even for a practiced cocksucker, and I sure wasn't that. He kept reaching down and playing with my ass, as he sat on the bench, with me between his legs, the big fat cock in my mouth. I tried to give him what access I could from my awkward position. As worried as I had been, I now couldn't get enough of his fingering my hole.

I was barely getting the head in my mouth and feared biting him. Though I loved it in my mouth, I realized my oral skills were unlikely to get him to cum. I didn't want him to have to finish himself off, or just give him a handjob, after the immense pleasure he gave me. I pulled my head out of his crotch and rashly volunteered my asshole to reciprocate the joy I had felt.

His fingers felt so good in my asshole; I reasoned giant penis would feel even better; by phallic-logic [4" fingers good —12" penis ≈ 3X better]. This added up, in large part, because of the euphoria I still felt.

"Uhm... yes...? Are you sure...?!" He asked, surprised, for the first time in our encounter. He decided we should move the party out of the gym, we dressed hurriedly and went to his apartment.

Once there, he led me to his bathroom, explaining that if I wanted to get fucked by his big cock, I needed to clean myself out. He warned me his cock would be way too big for my first time, and would tear my tight little virgin hole. It scared me, when he said that, but I couldn't get the sensation of his fingers mining my hole out of my mind and how much better his cock would feel back there. Plus I wanted to repay him for my pleasure.

His fat fingers breaching my sphincter hurt at first—I had never even thought of putting anything up there—but it turned to pleasure so quickly; his cock tearing my tiny little hole apart was a scary, but now irresistible idea I was eager to experience. Noah's fiddling had physically unlocked a secret passage, but it had also blown my mind. Suddenly, a lot of my life made sense. I was radically open to exploration, but my desire had slackened and fear grown, now that our passions had cooled down, and I had cum so hard.

"Noah, could we slow down a little?" I said haltingly.

"Aww, baby, sure. Here, just relax. Come here."

We got into the shower together and he soaped me up, tenderly and playfully. I saw just how hairy he was, definitely a bear. Physically, he was an Adonis, a furry sex god, and me a stick figure. He kissed me again as we were rinsing off the soap. His mouth hot and his powerful tongue assaulted the inside of my mouth. I kissed him back, and he pulled me in, opened my ass cheeks to the warm water behind me and forced one finger in my hole. I moaned deeply into his chest to show appreciation.

When he was about to get out, I asked if he would clean me out himself. He brought out an enema kit. I enjoyed this more than I was probably supposed to. The warm soapy water, the feeling of fullness and cleanliness when the water ran clear. I was glad I had him do it too. He was so gentle, slowly pushing the nozzle in and rubbing my tummy as the water filled my bowels. I was on all-fours in the tub. He encouraged me to hold it as long as I could.

After it was all done, he carried me naked to the bed and left the room. I laid there naked in his bed in whirling haze of feelings. I felt so turned on, electric. Despite his warnings and my fears, I was eager to experience it. Something about Noah made me trust him completely and want to please him. I had an overwhelming urge to give myself to him, and not just my ass, which I was desperate for him to take, but my whole self.

He came back with mimosas, and a fat spliff. We drank, smoked weed, talked, and got to know each other a little, before Noah pulled me in for another kiss. I loved kissing him; though I thought it would bother me, the prickly feeling of his trimmed moustache under my nose made me quiver. It was so different from kissing a woman. Was I always gay and didn't know it? Before my ex "wife," I had had so little sexual experience.