Remembering Rod

By: Michael Agreve

Some people call the late 1970’s and early 1980’s the “Golden Age of Gay Porn”. To me, the title seems apt. I can remember back to the time when all you found in your local porn shops were thinly disguised muscle magazines that featured only guys in posing straps. By the time the early 1970’s had come, the posing straps gave way to full frontal. But it wasn’t until much later that the early crude attempts at capturing gay sex on film gave way to what would eventually become the gay video porn industry. Studios like Colt churned out crotch pleasers that usually revolved around a pool boy getting his dick sucked by the studly home owner who just happened to be lying around the patio bare assed and ready for any action that might come his way. Gage Films brought the action up a notch with some hot dialogue and semi-realistic scenarios that featured the new image of gay men as macho, especially in the bedroom. I still have my collection of films like “LA Tool and Die” And still get off on the ideal image of all that hot masculinity willing to suck itself silly. But when I really want to get my rocks off I usually go to my collection of old-time videos featuring my all-time favorite porn stud, Rod Masters.

Now, I ‘m not so dumb assed as to believe that was really his name or that his straight-stud persona was the natural order of sitting back and taking whatever cock-sucking or ass eating came his way. But the image sure worked for me. With his powerfully muscular build and always erect cock willing to sample the latest pair or porn star lips, Rod Masters was the personification of manliness and stud power. He would lie back in the cab of a truck and smoke a stogie while some hitchhiker slobbered over his thick uncut cock. Now and then he would let another porn stud suck on his massive hairy chest while he propped his legs up on the back of some big-dicked bottom who sooner or later would be sucking off boot leather and grinning like a schoolgirl caught with her panties down around her ankles. I knew that grin all too well. It was the one I usually wore while some stray cock-sucker was slobbering over my dick in the back row of a porno movie theatre. I could never claim the kind of looks or massive body that Rod Masters showed off on the screen, but at least my eight inch stiffer could attract lots of willing lip service while I watched Rod spread across the screen while some new hottie ate his ass out. I knew that given the chance, I’d be right down there looking up into that quivering hole. But the chances of me meeting up with, let alone getting to taste Rod Masters were about as realistic as snow in July. Still, I could dream….and jerk off thinking about what it would be like not to just service the man, but to get serviced by him as well.

Friends told me that I was living in a fantasy world, that I should get myself a real life lover and forget the images I saw ten feet high from the back row of a movie theatre. But the fact is I had never met any man who could come close to the high standard that Rod Masters had set in my overactive brain. Still, there were plenty of contenders. And now and then one of them would last a year or two, then disappear, like the porn stars I had once held up as my ideal. I finally figured it out that I was getting older when I started seeing nothing but shaven crotches on porn video boxes and I realized that some of the guys I might want to jerk off to were old enough to be my sons. So, more and more I started going back to my roots; the movies that showed of the kinds of men who had once gotten four or five loads out of me each day, but now no more than two or three. Fortunately, many of the old films were back in DVD. And even if the music seemed as dated as the dialogue, I at least got to see some of the men who had been giving me hard-ons for the last twenty years.

I always wondered what had happened to some of the guys in the videos. I knew that many had died of AIDS. Others had most likely gone back to doing whatever they had done before they had decided to do suck and fuck films. Every now and then I would see photos of some of those early porn stars in local gay rags. What I saw was disheartening. Too many seemed to be stuck in time; still wearing cut off shorts that now seemed sad on almost fifty year old legs. Others seemed obsessed with keeping their bodies looking like they did way back when. But few succeeded. Like me, they had learned that age and gravity can play havoc with even the prettiest of faces and flattest stomachs. Once in a long while, though, I would come across the picture of a Golden Age porn star who had managed to age gracefully and in rare instances, with style. Fortunately, one of the latter turned out to be none other than Rod Masters.

I had started down my own road to saving what was left of my looks by going at least twice a week to the local gym. I was aware that I stood out like a hair covered sore thumb in a sea of washboard abs. But at least in the shower, my dick could still get some attention. And my face, although obviously not as fresh and pretty as it was when I first started putting it out in the gay market, was not the least bit saggy and could still get an admiring glance now and then. I had even discovered that there were plenty of guys out there who were actively searching for a Daddy type. I never bothered to figure out exactly why. I was always grateful that some young thing wanted to look into my myopic eyes and see the father figure he might never have had. But as much as I enjoyed those encounters, I still preferred the company of men closer to my own age. Somehow, a generation gap always seemed to come with a cultural gap. And while I have no objection to shaking my ass at a local dance hall every now and then, I could never quite get over having Disco called vintage. So, when I found myself in the locker room of the gym I was regularly going to in my neighborhood, I was startled to discover that I was not the only over-forty male waiting to get access to the weight machines. Just ahead of me was a man who from the back looked in decent enough shape, but with a trace of love handles that I was certain would be a genuine belly if he ever turned around and let me see him from the front.

When he did turn around, I realized that he did have a belly like my own. I also realized that the man I was looking at was an old friend or sorts. The hair was now pure white and the familiar black stubble was now a well trimmed beard, also in pure white. But there was no mistaking the chiseled features even though there were lines around the eyes. It was the man whose face and body had gotten maybe thousands of loads of pure white cock cream out of me.

“Rod Masters! “I said, too startled to even attempt to hide my shock and excitement.

The man smiled back at me shyly. “Used to be,” he answered.

I could see from his face that I was probably the one thousandth person to recognize him and stare gape-mouthed at the older, but decidedly still hot looking version.

“Rod Masters was I called myself then,” he added. “But I always was Rick. Rick Morris.”

I looked back at Rick Morris, aware that he was probably embarrassed at being recognized for sitting back and getting his well-proportioned cock endlessly sucked off.
“ Anyway, that was a long time ago. Many pounds ago too,” he added as I stared down at his beautifully rounded beer belly.

I had to admit that on him it looked good. His chest was still massive, with enough definition of the slabs of pec meat and forearms to tell me that he had never quite given up body building. But the face was softer, without the far-way look he always seemed to sport when he was getting a blow-job. I recognized the look of a man who had tried to take care of himself, had not always succeeded, but who seemed resigned to always having a gut and hoping that to some it was as much an asset as the chiseled features and hair that he had wisely decided not to dye. “Still, it’s nice to be recognized,” he said, “Even if it is for lying back and getting serviced,” he added.

“I was a big fan, “I blurted out, realizing that I probably sounded like some pimple-faced groupie.

“That’s nice to hear,” he responded. “I don’t always get good feedback about my films. Some guys still think I was pretending to be straight. You know, just letting guys swing on my meat then going home and giving it up to a girlfriend. Truth is, there was a time that I also bought into it. Told directors I would only let guys work on my cock, but that I wasn’t going to return the favor. By the time I realized what I really wanted most guys who knew me would freak if I started chowing down on their dicks. Played hell with my sex life for years. Anyway, that’s the saga of Rod Masters. Right now, Rick Morris needs to get some reps in.”

He moved towards the new equipment that had just been installed the previous week. After a minute or two the setup next to him became available and I began my own workout. I was more than aware that we were probably the two oldest guys in the gym.
I was also aware that we both could be classified as Daddy Bears, with matching bulk and beards. As I went through my workout I thought about what he had said. I had never had any problems admitting that I was gay. It came as natural as the never ending hard-ons I always seemed to be sporting in those days. But I knew that for many, coming out it an age when being gay was far from chic could come with lots of baggage. It would never have dawned on me that someone as hot looking as Rod, no, Rick, would ever have his own self-awareness problems.

I knew that there were many porn stars who straddled both the straight and gay worlds. Guys that hot would naturally be wanted by both men and women. And unlike others, I had never been bothered by Rod’s so-called straight persona. What worked for me was the face and body and cock and internal heat that he seemed to generate no matter what his personal stance. In fact, not knowing if he was giving his juices up for pay or pleasure was what made him even hotter to me. Those were the days when was I strictly in the service business sex-wise. Only later would I learn that getting serviced had its own rewards as well. So, maybe both Rod and I had gone beyond who we were once were. I just knew that seeing him alive and in the flesh was exciting, even if it was only to prove to me that some things and people to get better with age. By the time we were both finished with our rounds we were too exhausted for any more small talk. I showered quickly, half hoping that he would be in the shower room as well, then headed back to the locker room, a bit disappointed, but glad at least that I had seen and talked to him.

“Hey,” a voice said, “I hope I didn’t freak you out back there, talking about the old-me, new-me crap.”

I turned around to see Rod, no, Rick wearing just a towel and a sheepish grin.

“Comes with the age thing,” I answered. “The testosterone levels drop, so naturally the grey cells start firing up the thought process instead. Besides, it’s what we’re supposed to do when we get older….get philosophical.”

“Damn,” he said. “I know a lot of guys who are off their timeline. Anyway, I felt kind of bad. Sometimes I’m relieved when guys don’t recognize me. I hate to be the one to shatter illusions. Usually, they just stare back and say things like, hey, what happened to you?”

“We all have portraits hanging somewhere that we hope nobody ever gets to seen. And if you must know, I happen to think that what happened to you works just fine,” I said, aware that I might be digging myself into an even deeper social hole.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Coming from a guy who looks like you do, that’s quite a compliment. Most guys don’t know it, but way back when it wasn’t the guys who I did the movies with who got me going. It was older guys, guys who look like you, with some extra pounds they aren’t afraid to show off. I guess that’s what made getting older easier for me. After twenty-or so years it was great to finally start looking the kinds of guys I was getting my rocks off all those years. Anyway, you don’t want to get me talking about my so called sex life.”

“Why not?” I asked. “There aren’t enough of us left out there to tell it.”

“Well,” he began hesitantly. “Maybe you’d like to get some coffee with me and we can talk about it some more? There’s a doughnut shop down the block. Perfect way to keep the balance between working out and maintaining a gut. “

I had to laugh. It was obvious that like me, working out would always be more of a way to sooth my guilt, rather than achieve any recognizable results. And the though that I would be sharing some java and fried sugar with a former porn star had its appeal too.
I told him that I would join him, then quickly pulled on my pants and shirt as I watched him turn around and remove the towel that had hidden what was still one his greatest assets. Bare assed, Rick was a sight, all right. His butt still retained its firmness. And as he bent down to pick up the towel that he had discarded I could see the tip of his familiar cock come into view, as beautifully uncut as ever. He must have sensed me staring. He turned around quickly and flashed me the same smile he had used on all the guys on film who had come across him jogging in the park and had stopped to give his cock some sucking service. It was hard not to think about all those jerk-off visuals that had made him my all-time porno dream-date. Even as he hiked his boxers up across his belly, I could still imagine myself coming across his discarded rubber and sucking out the juices that he had left inside after fucking his girlfriend while I watched.

“Hey,” I’m buying,” he said as he slipped into a pair of shorts and a polo shirt that let his well rounded tit buds show through. “It’s the least I can do for a fan,” he added. I knew that no man gets nipples that size without having them worked on for hours, just like mine. Even as he sat down ad laced up his shoes, it was obvious that his old straight-stud persona was still working overtime in my brain. Only as we walked out of the front door of the gym towards the doughnut shop did I reminded myself that I could now put that image in the back of my mind as I began to get to know who Rick Morris is and find out that the knowledge would forever emblazon new pathways onto my senses. We walked out the front door of the gym, glad that now and then we still managed to get an admiring look from a passing guy as we headed toward the donut shop. Once there, we picked out what had to be the two largest confections we could find, and then settled into a nearby booth that we wouldn’t leave for another hour or so.

As we talked, I soon found out that after he had made his last movie, Rick had worked for another former porno actor who had gone into the clothing business with the money he had made in films. Rick ran one of his outlet stores, but had recently retired when his friend had sold the business to a conglomerate. Rick had been given a sizable check from the proceeds of the sale, a testament to the fact that some friendships can supercede greed. Like me, Rick had a lot of free time. Unlike me, his was not due to a dried-up freelance market. I told him that I was working part time to make ends meet and to avoid having to dip into savings. He said he had some contacts in publishing and that he would ask around if there was some money to be made off the books. We talked about what it was like doing porno flicks in the days when whatever was done would provide the basis for the future industry. He gave me the rundown on who was still alive, who was dead and why, and who had become little more than drifters once their looks were gone and who had made just enough money to pay for endless face lifts. By the time we had finished our coffee and doughnuts I knew enough about Rick Morris to know that he had regrets about his some porno past, had as many doubts about his older image as I did, and wondered if being a Daddy Bear wasn’t just a way to deal with our changing self-image rather than it being who we really wanted to be. Even as we stood up and he laid the money down on the counter, I could sense that he had talked to very few people about the things we had just discussed.

“So,” he said after a pause, “I guess you know about as much about me as most people do.”

“Enough to write a whatever became of article,” I responded, not sure it was the right thing to say once the words were out.

“Not sure who’d want to read it,” he answered. “But that might not be a bad idea. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d want to join me at my place for a beer.”

“Doughnuts and beer,” I said, trying to mask my amazement. “And all before noon. Sounds real good to me.”

“Well, I come from a background that says that beer, poppers, Crisco, and sex are the four basic food groups.

“You mean they aren’t?” I asked, hoping that we might be sampling all of those food groups in a couple of minutes.

“Well, for our generation maybe. And I promise not to show you any of my old films. Besides, I have a feeling that you’ve seen them all anyway.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Many, many times.”

“Well then,” he responded, “I promise not to make it a trip down memory lane. Just two old farts talking about the bad old days.”

Somehow, even with his hair gone grey it was hard to think of the former Rod Masters as anything remotely resembling an old fart. He still had the ass of a forty year old; a very well preserved forty year old. And with my dick erect at just the thought of being in the same room as him, I knew that wherever our budding friendship took us, I sure hoped it was into the bedroom.

“And since I am an old fart, I think I think it’s best we get a taxi. I would walk it back it 1980. But my feet don’t take me so far in the new millennium. “

That was just fine with me. I was as anxious to get to his place as his aching feet were. Fortunately, I didn’t have long to wait. The ride took no more than ten minutes to an area I recognized as having undergone some drastic changes in the past five years. Old warehouse buildings had been co-opted and his own unit was one of many that had been carved out from the remains of a tire factory. Unlike the others, it was a free standing unit, one of several that had been used for storage but was converted into duplex units. I was very impressed and said so. Equally impressive was the fact the minute we had gone into the almost cavernous living area he had pushed his body close to mine and had locked lips with me in a way that made me lose any lingering thoughts about his ever having been straight. For a few seconds I felt like my breath had been sucked out. Then, as his head slowly moved away from mine and I could see the obvious results of his excitement, I gulped in air as I realized just how quickly we would be heading to his bedroom. Soon, Rick was totally naked, staring back at me as if challenging me to register any disappointment at the sight of his changed frame.
I couldn’t. He was not the same man I had lusted after so many years ago. He was a big-bellied bodybuilder who seemed to have mastered the contradiction of body shapes and come away with a personal creation that was as hot as any he had offered up in the past. With my own clothing now discarded, I was almost his reflection, with my equally sizable belly and large cone-shaped tits that had only just started getting any shape that remotely could be called muscular. That didn’t seem to bother Rick. He dropped down to his knees and dove for my overhanging gut, giving me an idea of just what my appeal was in his eyes.

He was not the first man to admire my belly and seem to get off on its heft. He was just the hottest. I couldn’t begin to understand the appeal it had for a man whose claim to fame had been a rock solid body with not an ounce of fat on it, just sculpted muscle. And seeing his face down there, he who had always been the one sitting back and letting his stud puppies come to him, was the biggest shock of all. Rick Morris had never been and most likely would never be Rod Masters. He was a man whose own frame straddled the world of muscle men and gut growers. And he was obviously a man who liked his partners with extra poundage and a willingness to accept him for loving every extra inch.

“Thirty years ago I would have punched out anyone who would have said that I would be burying my face in a big belly and sucking on it like it was a candy stick, “he muttered through a face full of bear beef.

“Thirty years ago I would never have had a big belly,” I responded, not sure if it was the kind of answer he wanted.

“First big guy I ever went with had paid me to let him suck on my dick. He was an older big bellied stud who couldn’t believe it that I also wanted to suck of that gut of his. I never told him that I would have given it up to him just to get a chance to suck on that gut. You know what it’s like having everybody thinking you’re one thing when all the while you know you’re something completely different? Anyway, once I finished making movies I started getting into beer and pizza and the first guy who told me what a sexy belly I had also said he wanted to get down and worship head to toe. So, maybe you can understand why being called Rod Masters is like getting face slapped. I never was that man, not really. This is who I am. I love bellies, man. I love cock. And with a dick like the one you’ve got I know I’ll love being fucked for as long as my ass can stand it.”

I held his face as it lay across my gut. It seemed that the man who we had once been was doing a total flip-flop. He was on his knees hoping to get his ass plowed. I was standing above him about to get the servicing of a lifetime. Neither one of us was stud meat anymore.
I had never thought that I had never been. But here he was, about to suck on my cock and prepare it for entry up inside his fuck hole. And here I was, about to make the former Rod Masters my bottom. And for both of us, it seemed like a glove-fit and one that could never have happened when we had been more marketable over twenty years ago.

“Go for it, pal,” I said, aware that he would even if I didn’t give him permission. With that, he took my cock into his mouth, giving me a porno-perfect blow job as he reached down to the base, then moved upward over the shaft until I felt like my balls would burst if I didn’t give him my load within the next five minutes. I held his head as he sucked; knowing that what I was doing was a perfect imitation of what he had done to so many other guys in dozens of porno flicks. Somehow, I understood that he had transferred the sensation of getting head to the act of giving it. He was a first class cock-sucker and being able to also lay claim to that title gave me an understanding of just how expert a job he was doing. I could barely breathe as he slobbered over my meat, his spit forming a pool on the floor as my cock slid in and out of his mouth. I had to pull my cock away from his lip-lock for fear of shooting too quickly. Even with my cock out of his mouth, it was hard not to see the excitement in his eyes as he looked up at me and seemed to understand perfectly well what I was feeling at that second.

“Fuck, Rick, you sure are one hot man-eater. But I want it long and slow with you. And I want you to be the kind of pig you always dreamed about being. The kind of pig I always was.”

He stared up at me, accepting my arms as I helped him up from the floor. I could sense that I had said the right thing. He knew that I was talking to Rick Morris, not Rod Masters. He knew that I knew exactly who he was and knew how to use that knowledge to make the scene as hot as any that had ever been put on film. He also knew that he would have to pace himself; that I expected hours of uninhibited sex, with no mental baggage about what two men, let alone two older men should be doing. It was that unstated understanding that made what was happening between us flash even red hotter. As our bellies touched and he moved his lips over my huge tit mounds, I sensed that our sex would be all about who we are and how we would be able to take care of both of our needs and those of our partner at the same time. I knew that I would be sucking his dick like so many others had sucked it before, with him lying back and receiving pure pleasure while mine lay in the giving of it. I would taste that rosebud, and then shove my dick into it, forever erasing the screen image of the man and replacing it with the reality of a future fuck buddy. And if he wanted to lick food off my belly, I would place it there and let him lap it up. And when it came my turn to belly worship, I could remember that Rod had grown his in testament to the men who he had really want to pair up with in porno movies, but who he could now freely lust after.

“Show me the bedroom,” I said, and bring some beers.”

He smiled back at me, aware that ours would be a session as mental as it would be physical. Then he walked to the kitchen and came back with a six-pack as he led me to the room where we would spend the next couple of hours. Automatically, I stretched out across the mattress, my legs spread so that he had enough room to plant his bulk between those legs. I sat up in bed with my head propped up by a mound f pillows. Then I took the beer he had just handed me and began to guzzle. There was no use in pretending to be polite about it. I swigged as he chugged, the both of us letting loose with belches that shook the beams crisscrossing the ceiling. Then, with a swig of beer still in his mouth, he clamped down on my dick as the cold suds and warm lips almost made me cry out with pain and pleasure. Slowly, as the beer warmed and his tongue darted across my erect meat, I began to scrunch down in the pillows, in no hurry to try to even reciprocate or be anything other than a beer-guzzling bear playing with another den-mate. Rick knew just how much like a grizzly I wanted to get as he moved his tongue over my cock, then down onto my balls and into the thigh crevasse where all my crotch sweat collected. He aimed lower and lower towards my anal pucker with each swipe, then lay claim to the rosebud as he gave me a rimming whose memory would last a lifetime. All the while, he let his spit come in thick spurts that soaked the sheets while he slobbered and sucked. I hunkered even lower as he pushed his tongue out of his lips and aimed them for my overhanging gut. He wanted permission to suck and I gave it as I grabbed the top of his head and aimed it onto my belly. With the pleasure of a newborn discovering the nipple for the firs time, he tongue bathed my belly, leaving no remaining doubt that he had become a belly worshiper as sure as he had become a muscle beer bellied bear.

“Take every inch of that big body,” I ordered. And when you’ve tasted every inch I’m going to do the same to you, guy.”

He groaned at that thought, his tongue darting everywhere from my sweat soaked pits down to my toes, then back up again. When he had finished, he reached his mouth back up to me, almost challenging me to take a pair of lips and tongue that had tasted sweat and body juices from every corner of my body. Instantly, I moved my head out towards his and let my tongue dart deep inside his, sucking out every drop of sweat soaked spit. Then I slowly eased his body onto the spot where mine had just been, aware that I was going to now return the favor and even give him a bonus or two for his efforts. I watched his face as the anticipation of what was about to happen set it afire with raw lust. I had seen so many men in my place stare at him as if he was the first and best man meal they would ever experience. But none of them had ever had their sweat on his lips or had their butt holes slobbered over by his darting tongue. All that would change now. No doubt others had sucked him head to toe after he had also licked them. But I was going to prove to him that he didn’t have to look for any others. I would prove to be the best, just as his own ministrations had been the most memorable in a long, long time.

“You going to give it up for me, Rick Morris?” I asked, aware that I knew exactly what the answer would be.

“Fuck, I already have,” he groaned. “Gave it up the first time I stared into that big belly and dick of yours. Damn, you make me want to do things I never though of doing with another man,” he added.

“We’ll talk about that later,” I said. “Right now I’ve got to make up for lost time,” I added. “This scene’s been almost thirty years in the making,” I said. “Played it over and over in my mind a thousand times. Now, let’s see if the director’s cut’s as hot as I had it imagined all this time.”

With that, I moved to the foot of the bed, his full body waiting for wherever I chose to start. I knew I would start at the bottom, just as I had done with so many other men in the past, many of them being worshipped with the image of Rod Masters in my mind all the while. I started on his feet, as rough as any I had ever tasted. But these were Rick-Rod’s feet. And as I shoved as many toes as I could swallow into my mouth, I knew that what I was doing was marking them as my personal territory. Somehow, I knew that Rick Morris was slowly becoming mine, just as I had been his for so many years. I could hear his moans as I slobbered on his toes, making certain that each one came away covered in my spit before I moved upward on the leg and let my face remain for a few seconds staring into his crotch. I had seen so many in the just the spot where I now was. But few had seen the view with the mountain of beer belly rising in the distance. Rick knew what was going through my mind as I clutched at his balls and held them downward; gauging just how much action those famous low-hangers could take. Even when I opened my mouth up wide, I was still testing. He had been deep throated before. But I wanted to be the most memorable and the best. Fortunately, I had the advantage. I had known dicks of every shape and size and had learned to alter my cock-sucking techniques to maximize the pleasure I could give to each and every one. Rick’s cock, like the man himself, was thick, if not huge. It was one of those pricks that I could swallow down to the base of graying crotch hairs and not gag on. I also knew that the bulbous head would tickle the back of my throat and make me want to swallow and suck over and over until there was no way for the jizz to go but out. But that would be hours away. As I swallowed his seven incher down to the base, I heard him groan as I held my lips there, and then slowly moved them upward as I continued to grasp his swollen nuts. Rick could take more action on those balls than most men. I made sure that he understood how completely in my control they were as I let him feel the combined sensation of an intensely pleasurable cock sucking while I let his nuts ache in a way that to many men was also pleasurable.

Rick told me in no uncertain terms just how much he liked what I was doing. His body trembled with pleasure as he called out to me to make him feel it. I obliged. As I continued to mouth his cock I slowly moved one finger towards his anal pucker, knowing from the reaction that my movements got that he was ready to give it up to me. But I would take it slowly and in my own good time. Instead, I moved my lips down to where the rosebud quivered and let my tongue force it’s ripening redness to open like a flower. I knew immediately that Rick was an ass man, that his closet no doubt held a collection of dildoes in increasing sizes that he used to satisfy the needs of his butt hole. I knew that I would use all of those rubber dicks on him. But I knew that for now, it was my tongue that would tease his muscles to relax and accept what was as inevitable as summer followed by spring. I moved my tongue in and around his ass hole as I let streams of spit out. I had seen others rim him, but none who would also lay claim to his anal opening with their pricks as well. Rick was ripe for the fucking. And as I ate the insides of his butt hole out, I knew that every movement of my darting tongue was making him more and more eager to take my cock. I was never more grateful to have a big dick that I knew would claim more space inside his gut than most men could ever stake out. I also knew that just like everything else, I wanted him to experience my dick inside him long and slow and as sensuous as any screwing could ever be. I stared up at his hairy belly, topped with mounds of pec meat that I would also be nursing on for hours. He was slowly giving in to my rhythms, allowing me go claim him piece by piece as if each minute were another year I had spent fantasizing about the celluloid stud.

But I knew that if I were to be able to claim the man once and for all I would have to claim the one area that no man on screen had ever ventured into. I slowly eased off of his ass and raised his legs upward as I let his body slide further down on the bed. I could still see my spit on his bare feet, aware that there would be lots more there before I was threw. I asked him for a rubber and watched as he moved his arm to the night table and handed one to me. I tore the package open with my lips, and then spread the condom over my cock, smiling as its tightness reminded me just how much Rick’s nakedness had made my tool swell and stiffen. I made each movement a separate act, aware that anticipation was nine tenths of pleasure. Then, as he handed me a container of lube, I slowly moved the sticky substance towards his ass hole as I worked it in to the opening that my tongue had just widened. “This is no ordinary ass,” I said to myself. “This is Rod Master’s ass. And now, you’re the Master of it.” But I still knew that it belonged to Rick Morris. And it was that knowledge that made me even hotter. This was no fantasy fuck. This was all real, all live, and for nobody’s viewing pleasure but our own. We were making our personal porno flick, to be played over only in our minds and made even more special because we were making the script, directing the action, and we would determine the outcome.

“You ready for some cock inside you?” I asked, almost in parody of the stilted porn scripts we were both all too familiar with.

“Fuck, man,” he hissed, “Can’t no man be more ready than I am at this minute. Why don’t you give it to me, fucker. Give me all eight inches like the pig whore I am.”

Yeah, he was real good at improvising the words. But even more important, he was even better at taking it like a man. Even as I held my stiff dick poised barely one inch away from where it so badly needed to be, I understood his need and mine. I had fucked lots of guys in my day. I had gotten fucked by probably just as many. But with Rick, there had been something both said and unsaid between us that made the moment even hotter. Neither one of was a cock-hungry adolescent, hoping that throwing one more fuck into our hole would clear up our acne. My belly would pound his ass almost as much as my dick would. Both our crotches had almost as much grey hairs as our heads and beards. We might regret our bedroom calisthenics with backaches and sore muscles that never would have entered into the picture thirty years ago. But there were more pluses than negatives in the calculation. We had years to hone our techniques. We no longer cared what others thought about what we were doing. We both knew that we didn’t have the sexual stamina to part and pick up another guy up on the street and start all over. And neither one of us had the compulsion to do so. We fucked for real. And it was the reality of my dick sliding into an ass I had seen only on the screen until today that made its slow entry ever hotter. I was inside Rick, just like he had been inside my head all those years. As I slowly ground my hips knowing that each thrust would be felt down to his well sucked toes, I could sense that this would not be the last time his head would be up against the backboard and my dick would be up to the hilt inside his hole.

“Damnit, guy, you know just how I need it,” he screamed out as I plunged my cock down into his gut quickly after letting it linger at his anal opening for a few seconds. Once he understood the power of my prick, I rammed the message home as I fast fucked his hole, careful not to bring myself to close to shooting. All the while he gripped his own cock, still covered with my spit and as hard and thick-veined as any I had ever seen.
I varied my movements ever now and then, never letting him know exactly how he would get it. Then I leaned down and claimed his lips as I kept my cock still for a minute, and began the brutal pounding all over again. I silently said a thank-you for the extra-thick old factory walls that surrounded the bedroom as he screamed out while I continued to pound his ass hole. I knew that the feel of my belly also pounding up against his only added to the pleasure. I watched as he watched my oversized tits move up and down as I continued to thrust inside him. I knew that I would never have to apologize to him for letting myself go or for wanting my partner to get off of the extra gut meat I could give them. And I knew that with me he would never have to feel ashamed for his present shape, so different from the one familiar to so many men but so incredibly hot in its own right. I was burning new memories into my brain every second as minutes passed and I still lay claim to his hairy fuck hole. Only when I felt my own juices coming dangerously close to the explosive point did I stop and ease my dick out of his ass. I could see the disappointment on his face. But I moved my lips to his ears and whispered that they was plenty of time for more of the same. Right now I needed something else from him, and that something was what bears were most notorious for wanting and needed.

I pulled the rubber off my dick and tossed it onto the floor. Then I moved my body alongside his until we faced each other. For a second I was struck once again by the handsomeness of his face, now framed in white, like mine. He looked back at me, silent as his chest heaved from the excitement of having taken my dick so expertly and for so long. I still couldn’t help thinking that I had gotten the better bargain. I knew that I was good looking, just not porn star pretty. But the man staring into my face like I was a five course meal had the kind of looks that would still be hot at eighty. And now, that amazing face was locked onto mine as I held his body tightly while we deep kissed for what seemed like a couple of hours. It had been so long since I had actually made love to a man, not just have sex with him, that it was almost a shock to discover how much another human being can melt into your body and soul as if you were melding into one form. Rick seemed to need that feeling as much as I did. But neither one of us had most likely even thought about the need until that moment. It was amazing how the mind could tell you that you were having fun until the moment when you discover just what real fun is. None of the men who had called my Daddy and held their hands to my belly out of need had ever seemed to reach down inside me and grab a similar need out from inside me. But Rick did. And I knew that I had also brought it of from him. He held on to me as tightly as I held on to him, our need having nothing to do with cock and ass alone. It was as if together we were who we were meant to be. Separate, we were only two halves looking for another half that fit. I sensed it and so did he. But neither one of us expressed it, as if the telling would make it disappear. But if was there, silent, and even when we resumed our intense love-making, it did not go away.

I can’t say what it was that sparked it; my having known him for so long but never having known him, or his having the kinds of needs that I seemed to be the only one who he could express them with. Whatever it was, it sure worked. I didn’t just spend hours with him during that first go-round. I spent days and only parted because I had to go to my part-time job. But even when we parted, there was no question that this was just a break in the action, and a temporary one at that. Rick still had more to give up to me; more insights into his porno past as well as his present incarnation. There were still more facades that would need dropping and we would both explore parts of our sexuality that we had thought we could only express in thought. Some worked better than others, but at least we were able to explore them together. And we also explored others, sometimes in a three-way and sometimes separately. I can’t say if we felt the need to do so because the intensity of our feelings towards each other generated some repressed fears in ourselves. We knew that we were walking a dangerous line for any new couple, but still we managed to do the tightrope dance and reach the other side pretty well intact.

There were still some postures that I could never get Rick to drop, but they seemed minor in comparison to what I did manage to get him to take on, or reclaim from who he had been before the porno years. And after one year of being together we made a major decision that we knew could be an even greater risk to our relationship but one that we both felt we needed to make. We agreed to do a porno DVD together, this time for the Daddy-bear market and this time with Rick playing it every way but straight. It was his first film fuck and those who did remember Rod got the chance to say that they knew along that he wasn’t straight. And if they couldn’t claim that satisfaction, then there was also the satisfaction that came with seeing men who were your mirror image sucking and fucking, even if a couple of the players needed the extra help of a couple of doses of Viagra.

We didn’t do the movie to claim whatever fame two old farts fucking could possibly garner. We did it to prove that two old fats could, in fact fuck and even get to fuck some of the guys who signed on because they would be getting hot Daddy dick up their asses and in their mouths. And we did it to prove that we could work our cocks with the best of them even if we couldn’t always look down and actually see our dicks past our bellies.
I don’t know if seeing the video changed anybody’s mind about what it might be like to turn fifty in a youth oriented gay market. I know we had fun doing it and would do it again in a minute. But one thing is for certain….every now and then we’ll be walking down the street and someone will recognize us. Not just Rod…..us. And if it’s only a giggle or two that we elicit from the passerby we know that at least the guy’s had to make it through to the end of the DVD, even if he doesn’t decide to ever play it a second time. But every now and then someone will stop us and tell us that they really got off on seeing it. And if the chemistry’s right, we might just invite that someone home for a live-action version. So, here we are, two men in their early fifties, one a former porn star, one who never imagined he could also be one. Neither one of us is what you would call thin and neither one of us wants to be. What we want to be is who we are. And although age has made us into Daddies, our own needs have made us into bears, not just guys with guts. And if you don’t know the difference between the two, well I know a DVD you can rent to find out.