Date: Sun, 26 Dec 1999 01:39:59 EST
From: CJM
Subject: Italian Dad

Italian Dad

Note: This story is based on actual events in my life, embellished with
Dad-Son fantasties.

Some time ago, while I was living in Italy, I took a trip to Bologna
specifically to indulge in the city's vibrant gay life, which includes
famous saunas, or bath houses. I was living in Venice, where there was
absolutely no gay life, and Bologna was only a 2-hour train ride away.

On the second day in Bologna, I went to the Sport Sauna. Not long after
entering, taking off my clothes and checking the place out, I found myself
in the hot tub area. In dim, indirect lighting I first noticed an
attractive man by himself, submerged up to the tops of his broad shoulders
in the bubbling, steaming water of one of the tubs. For a few minutes, I
observed him from a distance: a beautiful, softly-featured round head,
mostly bald with closely cropped salt and pepper hair around the sides and
back, a beard whose curly thickness tapered up his sideburns to meld with
the much shorter length of his hair. His skin was olive colored, more dark
than light. He had nice, full lips that curled up into a slight smile at
the corners, while he rested his eyes. With his body sunken under the
water, I couldn't tell much else about what he looked like.

He actually didn't notice me slip into the tub. And it wasn't until I
accidentally touched his foot underwater that his eyes came open, ever so
slightly. When I nodded a "hello", his eyes opened further.

"Hey, son, welcome to my tub," he said, as if it were his regular spot. "My
name is Massimo ... but most of my young friends call me Papa."

"Hi Massimo," I said, smiling. "My name is Paul." I sunk into the hot tub
across from him.

I couldn't really bring myself to reply to him as "Papa." I have always
been attracted to the physiques of men much older than me. But the idea of
addressing an older guy as "Daddy" or "Papa" held little appeal because the
I had anxiety being in the "junior" position with a lover much older than
me. This is the reason why my adventures with older men always resulted in
one night stands and conflicted feelings. Massimo and I got to talking, and
I learned that he was twenty five years older than me and was a reporter
for the major newspaper in Milan.

I shared with him the reason for my being in Italy (to research my
dissertation) and in Bologna (to have a good time). And it wasn't long
after, that we had slid next to one another and began to gently caress each
other while talking. My hands played with his and he would occasionally
kiss my forehead. My hands told me -- to my delight -- that Massimo had
a very hairy chest, matted with very curly and coarse hair, much like a
black man's. And it was this part of his body that kept me quietly occupied
for a while. His chest was naturally barrell-shaped, his pecs on the soft
side but obviously well-developed and with large pointy nipples. His furry
belly was large and soft, too, which also delighted me, not being a fan of
the washboard stomach.  He had large, round shoulders that faded into quite
substantial arms -- one of which was around me -- that also became
quite hairy at the forearm area. Not being an especially large man, I fit
quite well alongside him.

"You know," he whispered, "my cock is not off-limits to your hands, son."

I didn't really care that he called me "son." I didn't waste any time. My
hand plunged down to meet his cock underwater. It was not unnaturally
large, but nonetheless substantial. It was thick and uncut (like most
native Italian men), connected to very large, hairy balls that were buoyant
in the water. My hand explored every part of his cock: feeling its weight,
playing with its foreskin, gently rubbing the shaft as it alternately
swelled and went flaccid during our conversation.  Occasionally, Massimo
would stop talking out loud and lick my ear and whisper things like, "It's
your cock, son." This comment was not lost on me, for I had fantasized for
as long as I could remember about always "possessing" an older man's cock
-- always having a big dick to play with, suck, and sit on whenever I
wanted, with all the naturalness of it being part of everyday life. To be
sitting together watching TV or reading and having the freedom to hold my
lover's dick (even if flaccid) brought great security to me. The idea of
his cock being mine for the afternoon sent my mind reeling.

Massimo seemed to know how to handle me, too. While my hands explored his
beautiful, hairy body, he massaged my nipples with his left hand and rubbed
my back with the other. He punctuated our conversation with gentle kisses
on my neck or brief explorations of my mouth with his tongue. After a
while, conversation became superfluous and we silently looked at one
another and just massaged the other's body. My right hand couldn't stop
playing with Massimo's hefty dick.

"I don't usually have the urge to kiss deeply in the bathhouse, Paul, but
would you mind?" And with a single touch of his hand on my cheek, my head
fell back, and he planted a deep kiss on my mouth. I could feel the
droplets of water on his beard touching my skin while his warm, moist
tongue started to explore my mouth. He moved his right hand down my back
and started to gently massage my asshole. Our tongues became more intensely
intertwined as I ran my fingers through his thick beard, down to his chest
and hairy bells and to his large cock. Things got so intense that other men
didn't dare enter the hot tub with us.

It was easy for me to let my mind wander off and fantasize about making
Massimo my man. He seemed intelligent, very sensitive, and had my idea of
an ideal body. I didn't completely get of sense of his body until we had
calmed down and decided to leave the bath house. He stood up in the hot
tub, though, and his thick masculine body was before me: 6'0", 250 beefy
pounds, about a 40' waist, a large butt and hair everywhere on his olive
skin.

* * * * *

Although I had intended to take a train to Venice the next day, Massimo
convinced me to come spend the night in Mantova, where he lived in a
country house just outside the city's ancient walls, and then take the
train back to Venice the day after. We drove over an hour from Bologna to
Mantova. Along the way, he shared with me his appreciation of my body. I
didn't have a hard body by any means, but I was in good shape at 5'10" and
165 pounds, with dark wavy hair, fair skin and virtually no body hair,
except around my 7-inch cock. On several occasions during the ride, he
asked me to call him "papa" or "dad" like others did, but I didn't, and
always changed the subject to something else.

At home, in his living room, Massimo had a large chaise lounge, big enough
for two people. It was here that I first got to sample his (my) cock with
my mouth. I laid down on the chiase lounge and Massimo stood over me and
layed his soft cock across my face. I looked up at him and started playing
it. It made me so happy just to hold his thick dick in my hand -- I would
gaze at it and his balls covered with the curliest coarsest fur and marvel
at their beauty against my light skin. Massimo was attentive to my desires,
allowing me to take all the time I wanted with each inch of his body. The
scent of his balls and cock was driving me crazy. I nuzzled my nose under
his balls and felt the weight of them against my face.

Some time after, Massimo knelt over me in a sixty-nine position, his
gorgeous dick hanging over my face. His balls were all drawn up and I
licked them furiously like an animal, sometimes pulling them with my teeth
or grabbing his ball-fur between my lips. They were soon slick with my
saliva. He would sometimes use his hand to indicate that he wanted his dick
in my mouth. It was such a fucking hot cock to suck -- dark brown, with
the softest skin, and wonderfully scented foreskin, and a purple
cockhead. I enjoyed playing withhis foreskin with my tongue and deep
throating him. Pre-come dripped almost continuously from his dick.

While Massimo sucked my dick, I would often rub his hairy belly that hung
down from his torso. This turned me on to no end. Having this guy's large
hairy balls near my mouth with a full view of his manly stomach was my idea
of a good time.  Massimo absolutely loved my cock and asshole and
frequently traded off between them, sometimes keeping his finger in my wet
ass while he devoured my dick.

He didn't mind at all when my tongue moved to his asshole -- his ass
smelled like a man's and the intensity ofhis scent increased the closer I
got to his asshole. I spread apart his hairy ass cheeks and thrust my
tongue into his hot hole, moving one of my hands over to his great cock. He
said something, but since my cock was in his mouth I couldn't make out his
words.

During a break in our lovemaking, Massimo whispered to me, "Boy, I'd love
to fuck you." I responded by giving him a deep kiss. He retrieved some
condoms and told me to put it on him, which I enjoy doing. And then I lubed
up my ass, and slowly sat down on his throbbing dick while he layed back on
the couch. The view of this man from above was almost more than I could
take. I watched him as his hips thrusted his pelvis into my ass, and I was
mesmerized by the movement of his hairy belly. I could feel the hair on his
torso rubbing lightly against the back of my thighs. Massimo begged again
for me to call him "dad" and I finally gave in.

"Come on, Daddy, thrust your cock up your boy's hole. Come on, it feels so
good."

Just bringing myself to say these words was incredibly powerful and it fed
into our already intense lovemaking. He was my sex daddy, fucking his
boy. My sex daddy's cock was in my ass, taking care of his boy's needs. He
turned me over onto my back and mounted me, all the while calling me his
"best boy" and "daddy's good fuck."  He exploded into my ass and I shot
come all over his hairy gray chest. We collapsed and I fell asleep as he
whispered, "You're daddy's best boy" into my ear, his big arms holding me
tight.