"Of course, if you two get married you won't have to worry about that," chirped Mrs. Walsh from the passenger seat of the car, and with that my backseat companion Connie Walsh looked over at me, and we both stifled laughter while rolling our eyes at the thought of that.
It would never happen, although Connie's Mom seemed to mention it a lot, and there were a couple of very good reasons for that. The one reason was that while I liked Connie as a friend, the fact was that I was primarily attracted to members of my own gender.
Connie was the same way, only she had absolutely no interest in guys. If you think that it was strange that we would be boyfriend and girlfriend in the summer of 1971, let's just say that it was a different era, and after learning that we were both pretty much gay, we had developed a bond.
Connie mentioned one time that her parents, especially her mother, were always pressuring her to date. We were both firmly entrenched in our respective closets, so nobody had any idea that we were "that way", but I too had gotten pressure from my mother to ask girls out.
It was then that we decided to become pretend boyfriend and girlfriend. It had worked out well because we had been in some of the same classes back in high school, so when we went up to her bedroom to "study", that's actually what we were doing. Studying.
To be honest, we did mess around once the night her folks threw her graduation party, and we ended up playing a game of "show me yours and I'll show you mine". Connie's pussy was the first I had ever touched, and while it didn't do much for me, I did like the fact that she was really hairy down there, although when I told her that she didn't seem too thrilled.
Connie wasn't very impressed with what I had to offer at this show-and-tell session, commenting after I dropped my underwear, "yours is kinda small, isn't it?"
"How would you know?" I asked, and when I pressed her for details since she had said she never had been with a boy, she finally confessed that she had seen her Dad naked once, and his was way bigger.
"That's okay though," Connie said when she saw how embarrassed I was about her realizing how modest my very modest endowment was, not that I wasn't already aware of my shortcomings. "If I had to touch one I would want to touch one like yours because it's less gross."
Connie didn't think it was less gross after we got each other off though, complaining after her hand job caused a geyser of semen to spray her hand and arm, but that was the extent of our sexual contact. A mediocre hand job and a poorly performed fingering.
So we were in the backseat of her parents car, on the way up to Lake George for a day of swimming. It was supposed to be a graduation present of sorts for us, and that was probably an okay situation when you're a kid, but when you're both 18, if you went to a place like Lake George, you wanted to go with your peers and not your parents, according to Connie, and I had to agree.
I thought her folks were okay, even if her Mom was a bit of a pain. Connie's Dad was a good guy, even if he wasn't really my type, with me having found myself attracted to men larger than myself physically.
While Mr. Walsh had a hairy chest, judging by the way the black fur always peeked out of the neck of his shirts, he wasn't a big guy, only about as tall as my 5'9" or so, and was much thinner than me.
That was the year that I had gotten tired of being a pudgy kid and had embarked on a weight lifting program and the local gym. To my surprise, I stuck with it, probably because I ended up in the locker room afterward checking out other guys, but whatever the reason, it worked and I evolved from being a butterball at 17 to a decently built 18 year old during my senior year of high school.
While I wasn't at the level of a real bodybuilder, my body was better than it had ever looked (or ever would look) and I enjoyed the attention I got from both sexes. Of course, there are parts of the body that no amount of work could improve, but I was beginning to get over my insecurities about that.
We arrived at some quieter area of the lake that Mr. Walsh knew about, and after we set our stuff at the picnic table we all headed to the bathhouse to change. Connie went with her Mom and I went with her Dad into our respective changing rooms, and I went into my familiar game of casually undressing while watching Mr. Walsh peel his clothes off.
Mr. Walsh was about 50, but was in pretty good shape for his age, I noted as he peeled off his shirt and revealed a fit upper torso. The mostly black pelt of hair that covered his chest drew my attention, and as he dropped his slacks I smiled at the rich coating of hair on his calves.
Probably because I had about as little body hair as an adult could have, I had always been attracted to hairy guys, proving the old adage about opposites attracting correct. I had already discovered from my limited experiences up to that point that the only thing better than looking at a hairy guy was to feel that fur against my skin, and I could feel my dick twitching already as I undid the imaginary knot in my laces and stood up.
I wonder whether my looking at other guys was as subtle as I thought it was back then, and I suspect it wasn't. I was a little disappointed when Mr. Walsh turned away before dropping his boxers, but it wasn't because of modesty because he turned back toward me as he made some idle talk about the warm weather.
Connie was right. My eyes kept going over to Mr. Walsh no matter how spastically I kept trying to jerk my head away from staring at Mr. Walsh's cock. I had seen bigger, but what was swinging between his thighs was an impressive piece of meat, probably close to 6" of flaccid bronze-hued manhood.
What was the most amazing thing was the head of his uncut cock, which was enormous. The fat bell-shaped bulb was so plump it made Mr. Walsh's cock look like a apple on a stick, and it wasn't because the shaft was skinny like mine.
Mr. Walsh obviously saw me staring at him, but that didn't make him in any hurry to put his swimming trunks. To the contrary, he stood there with trunks in hand chatting about the temperature, watching me undress with painful slowness while I hoped he would put his trunks on and leave so I could get undressed.
Clearly, he had no intention of leaving, and unlike me, he made no attempt to hide watching me, even commenting favorably on how muscular I had become while I tried to casually turn away from Mr. Walsh as I dropped my underwear.
It didn't work, and to make it worse, my hands refused to work, causing me to drop my trunks several times while Mr. Walsh's eyes took in everything I had, much to my shame.
To be honest, it wasn't the fact that Connie's father was able to see how little my dick was that made me cringe the most, it was the fact that my dick was as hard as blue steel, pointing straight out and springing around while I tried to jump into my trunks, having become fully engorged thanks to seeing Mr. Walsh's incredible cock for the first time.
I remember him smiling, thankfully not laughing, and as we left the bathhouse Mr. Walsh had his arm around my shoulder, telling me how glad he was to get to spend the day with me and his family.
I spent the majority of the day in the water up to my neck, first talking with Connie, who was not all that thrilled with spending the day with her folks, and swimming was not her favorite thing to do either, partly because she was chubby.
"Thanks for coming up here with me," Connie said as the water lapped at her chin.
"This is okay," I said. "Your dad is cool."
"We thought you guys got lost getting changed," Connie said. "Took you long enough. What were you two doing, checking each other out?"
"I don't think your Dad is that type," I opined.
"You can say that again," Connie said. "Oh-oh! Company."
Connie's father was wading out towards us, and thankfully the water reached his waist fast so I didn't have to stare at the bulge in his baggy trunks, and when he reached us he started to horse around with us.
"Mom sent me out here to make sure you two weren't fooling around under the water," Mr. Walsh said as he tried to dunk Connie's head. "I told her Timmy's not that kind of guy but she didn't believe me. You aren't that type, are you Tim?"
"No sir," I said, and did he wink when he said that?
Connie escaped from her father's grasp while I cackled, but then he came after me. I offered little resistance as he horsed around with me, even letting him put me in a bear hug from behind, and as he did Connie made her escape to the beach. That was when I felt it against my ass, and when I felt his hardness my heart started to race.
"Poor Angela," Mr. Walsh said as he watched Connie join his wife on dry land. "She has no idea that you're Connie's beard."
"Her beard?" I said as we stood together in the water, not having any idea what he was talking about because while Connie didn't shave her armpits like most girls (that being the reason she wore a t-shirt over her bathing suit so her mother wouldn't see it and throw a fit), Connie didn't have any facial hair I could see.
"It's an old term," Mr. Walsh said, and there was no doubt that his cock was hard and he was grinding it into my butt. "Beard - front - it means that Connie's using you to hide the fact that she's a lesbian, and I suspected that you're using her the same way because of the way you are. Am I right?"
"Yes, Mr. Walsh," I admitted, trying to pretend that nothing was going on out in the water, although under the surface things were happening.
"Why were you trying to hide yourself back at the bathhouse?" Mr. Walsh asked as he reached into my trunks. "Because you've got a little one? I hope not, because I think it's beautiful. Hell, I think you're so cute I can't stand it."
"Hiding - because - because I was hard," I gasped when Mr. Walsh's fingers found my dick.
"Hard because you were looking at me?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. Walsh," I admitted as Mr. Walsh grabbed my wrist with his free hand and brought it under the water and towards him.
"Clive," Mr. Walsh corrected me and then he put my hand on his cock.
"I like that - you getting hard looking at me," Clive said. "Makes me want you more."
We got asked what we were talking about as we stood out in the lake, water up to our necks with our trunks down and our cocks in each others hands, jerking each other off and even rubbing the heads of our dicks together, and although it might have looked strange it felt great.
I came first but Clive Walsh came soon after, and after we dove under the water and got ourselves dressed, we made our way to the beach.
"When we get back - I'll take you home," Clive Walsh said. "Not right away though. Okay?"
"Yes sir - Clive."
"You ever take it up the ass?" he asked, and I nodded, although when that image of Mr. Walsh trying to force that incredibly fat cock head into my orifice went through my mind, I took a deep breath at the thought.
"Can't wait for this picnic to be over," Mr. Walsh said as he slapped my wet back. "Let's eat."
"I'm not usually that reckless," Clive Walsh said as he pulled out of his driveway. "Out in the lake there. Reckless, but it really turned me on."
"Your Mom know about you?" he asked.
"Women - I don't know. I thought they were supposed to have some sort of intuition. She thinks you and Connie are straight," Mr. Walsh said. "You I was almost sure of, and then when I saw you looking at me - you've been with older men?"
"Yes sir. That's about the only guys I've been with," I admitted as Mr. Walsh swung behind a motel, and for a minute I though we were going to be doing stuff in the car, but he jumped out of the car and returned with a key.
"You don't have to be home at any special time do you?" he asked, and after I nodded no he explained that he had told his wife that after he took me home he was going to go to the office and do some work.
"I do that a lot," Clive me as we reached room number 24.
"What, work late or take guys to motels?" I said with a nervous grin, hoping he had the sense of humor I thought he had.
"Yes," Clive Walsh answered with a smile. "Yes and yes."
A minute after the motel door closed behind us we were both naked, having practically torn each others clothes off in that brief time, but once we hit the bed Mr. Walsh took control, which was the way I wanted it even though I was stronger and could have stopped him when he grabbed my wrists and held me down on the mattress.
Mr. Walsh nuzzled into my neck, his furry body making me tingle as he ground into me. Our cocks were dueling down below - a clear mismatch that excited me as his cock crushed mine - and then he started kissing his way down my body, licking my virtually hairless armpits, and biting my nipples softly on the way down to my dick.
From the second he grabbed my dick and swallowed it effortlessly, I knew I wouldn't last long. In less that a minute my legs were kicking around as he sucked my stem savagely, practically siphoning my orgasm out of me, and he kept sucking hard long after I came until I practically had the pry him off of my deflated dick.
Then Mr. Walsh was climbing off of the bed and after grabbing me by the hair in a gentle but firm manner, brought me to a sitting position on the edge of the bed where he stood facing me.
Mr. Walsh's cock was no less intimidating nearly erect that it had been when he was flaccid in the bathhouse. When my hand grabbed the base of his semi-turgid manhood and squeezed the shaft, the bell-shaped glans bulged, and I had to open my mouth wide to avoid nicking the puffy ridge with my teeth.
I was a relatively inexperienced cocksucker back then, but managing to get that bulbous knob into anyone's mouth would have been a challenge for anyone. His wife couldn't do it, he would tell me later, and although I couldn't get my lips much past the ridge, Mr. Walsh seemed to like my efforts.
"That's it Timmy," Mr. Walsh said as he held my head in his hands while my lips when back and forth over that flared ridge. "That's good."
I was pumping the shaft with my left fist while my right hand squeezed his nuts, meaty orbs that hung in a hairy sac, and when Mr. Walsh took his cock from my mouth and pulled it upwards, I obediently ducked under and licked his balls, the musky aroma and taste of his scrotum - caused by sweat and lake water - making me lightheaded.
Mr. Walsh was hard when he lifted my head out from between his legs, the skin on his glans so tight that it seemed ready to burst, and when I licked the bead of pre-cum that had leaked out of the tip, he shivered.
"I want you," Mr. Walsh said, now holding a tube of lubricant, and then he was pulling me around so I was kneeling on the edge of the bed, my legs hanging off the end.
After putting me all all fours, Mr. Walsh spread my thighs and examined my anus, first visually and then with a lubed finger, exclaiming that he couldn't believe how tight my asshole was. Then I felt the finger leave my orifice, and as he spread my ass cheeks apart I felt Mr. Walsh's face burrow into the crack.
I let my face ease down into the bedding and looked backwards between my legs, seeing Mr. Walsh's hairy chest and listening to the animal-like noises he was making while licking my anus, even poking his tongue inside me.
Mr. Walsh reached under me, and after giving my hairless pouch a little kneading, grabbed my dick and started pulling on my spent dick, stretching the little peanut down hard, and his efforts managed to made what he was yanking a bit more to handle.
Too soon, Mr. Walsh straightened up, and from underneath I could see him greasing his cock as he moved up behind me. I put my face into the sheets, biting the cheap linen while I braced for what I was expecting to be the equivalent of being ripped in two.
Surprisingly, I survived. While it took a while, and while did hurt a bit when he forced that puffy ridge into my puckered ring, once he got inside me it was more than good.
I wished that there was a mirror around so I could have seen Mr. Walsh standing behind me, his hands on my hips as he worked more and more of his cock into me until he had no more to give.
"Damn!" Mr. Walsh grunted as he leaned hard into me before pulling back and plowing forward again. "You okay Timmy?"
As he spoke his hand slid off my hip and reached around me, and when his hand found my boner he laughed as that answered his question.
"This too rough for you?" Mr. Walsh asked as he was leaning over me. his sweaty hairy chest pressed against my back.
I wasn't sure whether he was referring to the hard deep thrusts of his thick tool or the almost savage way he was yanking on my dick while jerking me hard, but either way the answer was no.
It had to end sometime, and even though Mr. Walsh had great self-control - much better than my own since I had sprayed the sheets with cum earlier - eventually I heard him cry out, and that was followed by the manhood twitching inside my savaged cavity and the warm feeling as his seed filled my bowels.
It hurt when that ridge popped out of my anus, but outside of feeling like he was still inside me, I was none the worse for wear, something Mr. Walsh confirmed after I heard him chuckle while holding my ass cheeks open after pulling out.
"You should see this," Mr. Walsh commented, explaining that before my balloon knot started contracting, my ass looked like it should have had a golf pin in it, the way it gaped open so wide.
"Good as new," he finally declared, and after we rested for a while he suggested a shower might be in order.
I took that as an invitation to join him, and when I pulled the curtain open he welcomed me. We soaped each other up thoroughly, and while I enjoyed him lathering me up, I really enjoyed running my soapy hand all over his body.
I lovingly scrubbed Mr. Walsh's bushy armpits before reveling in the feel of the soft fur of his chest, and I took a long time cleaning his cock. As my hands worked up and down his member, I couldn't get over that he not only could fit that monstrosity inside of me, but that it had felt so good.
My dick was pointing at him while I scrubbed his penis, and after looking up at Mr. Walsh I shyly brought the tip of his flaccid cock against my dick. They looked so odd together, my pale grape-sized glans rubbing into the ruddy plum that looked as like if it could swallow mine up, but it felt so good.
"Ooh - keep that up and you might get me hard again," Mr. Walsh said as he joined me in looking down at our cock heads grinding together, but there was no way I could hold back my orgasm for long.
"Sorry," I said after spurting a load all over him, lamenting the fact that I had so little self-control, especially with a man like Mr. Walsh who turned me on.
"That's okay," Mr. Walsh said, giving me a hug after the spray cleaned off my spunk. "Maybe we can play some more - some night when we have more time."
That was fine with me, and we did get together a couple more times before I headed off to college. Unfortunately he got transferred to another area while I was in school, and we lost track of each other eventually. I always have fond memories of my times with Clive Walsh, another wonderful older hairy man who was very good to an insecure guy like me.
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