A Life Well-Loved

"God! What a dick!" he gushed.

He scooted in until it angled out over his chest and then took his time bringing me to another climax in his hand. When I came, being my second load of the morning, it lazily oozed from my slit down onto his chest.

He scooped the catch up on his fingers and sucked them clean. Rising to his feet he leaned down and kissed me, sharing the taste of our loads as our satisfied moans filled the room.

When he straightened back up he gazed down at me, running his fingers through my hair as he said, "Happy anniversary, my gentle giant."

I wrapped my arms around his waist and drew him in for a hug as I said the only words I could think to say, "I love you more than you can possibly know, Chik!"

He threw his arms around my head and clutched it to his breast, as if unable to find words to express his feelings for me in return.

We retired to the master bath and brushed our teeth, then took a leisurely, steaming shower together. The rest of the day we relaxed in the buff until we dressed and headed out to a romantic dinner followed by our planned stop at The Ivory Tower for a few celebratory drinks.

Most of the tribe that had been present for Chik's arrival the year before, including our friends Bret and his partner Steve, had anticipated our choice of venue. Steve was actually a bit older than Bret and, though larger than Chik in size, was a small enough man that they made a similar looking couple.

We were greeted at the door by Tom, who planted his hand on my chest to stop us while he checked an imaginary guest list.

"Ah, yes...Mr. Benton," he said in an officious tone, then looked at Chik and dryly said, "and you...must be the nephew."

'The nephew' came with a sarcastic set of air quotes.

"You're such a cunt, Tom," Chik said, sounding equally droll as he played along.

He stepped out from behind his lectern in mock anger and said, "Young man, I...am a PRICK...no cunts allowed!"

He then swept Chik up and gave him a hug before ushering us on in.

"I'll never live that down, will I?" he asked under his breath with a grin.

"Probably not," I confirmed with a smile as we approached the surprise gathering that awaited us.

It turned out there was no need to worry about not finding a special moment to toast in Chik's honor. Our friends raised enough glasses and shared enough memories to speak for both of us. It was a perfect evening and we all had a terrific time. However, being Sunday night, those of us who worked had to call it an early one.

I had a job managing a truck service and tire center. When Chik needed an income stream to rebound from being kicked out of his parents' home I used my influence there to hire him in as an office worker.

It was supposed to be a temporary arrangement to get him on his feet before he moved on to make a life for himself. Nearly twelve months later he was still my employee in addition to being my unexpected partner in life.

Managing a shop like mine would have been physically taxing enough for most men. Couple it with my religious adherence to a minimum of three grueling workouts per week on the weights and I can hardly believe now that I was able to get out of bed most mornings.

It was something I simply couldn't do without, though. Some people drink to cope with the pressures of work. Some people meditate. I lifted.

Twelve sets on average of six to ten repetitions each, not including warmups, with weights ranging anywhere from 150 to 300 pounds, resulted in me pushing totals of around ten tons of iron per workout. The feel of all that blood inflating my muscle mass was a high that did wonders for clearing my mind after a hard day's work.

Chik's coping mechanism was altogether different. He was perfectly content to wait and clear his mind with what he knew would inflate after I got done.

Within twenty minutes of finishing it seemed like every CC of blood I'd spent two hours or more pumping into my muscles would suddenly rush back out and head straight for my cock. From that first blow job forward he lovingly referred to it as my 'lifter's hard-on'. It was luridly vein-ribbed, crimson in color and stayed inflexibly erect for at least an hour.

Often, by the time I had showered from my workout, he would have the bed ready for me to stretch out on for his. He would slather the vulgar looking thing in lube, squat down over it and then flat wear that tiny butt of his out. I'd never seen the likes of it before. He was like a kid at an amusement park riding his favorite rollercoaster over and over and over again.

Happily it was a source of stress relief that showed no sign of slowing down as we'd rounded the corner of our first year together.

*****

You would think that the constant contact of living and working together would have made us feel claustrophobic. I wish I could report that we occasionally fought and experienced episodes of withholding affection from each other. It would be a lie, though.

Even our closest friends, Bret and Steve among them, found it hard to believe and would press us for confessions when they had either of us alone. Gradually, as irritating as they found it, they came to accept that it simply was not a dimension of our dynamic.

When I first realized that our lives were beginning to merge I tried to push him away. I told him he had no business tying himself to a man old enough to be his father; that eventually he could only look forward to a life as my caregiver.

"I'm not afraid," he would retaliate, "I'm only here because you had the courage to be mine in the beginning."

Like I said, he had an intellectual maturity that couldn't be argued with at times, and he eventually won me over to his point of view. The fear that he might bolt once that future arrived never completely left me, but the sincerity of his love and devotion in the present kept it sufficiently at bay to let our relationship blossom.

The time soon came, however, when Chik wanted to quit working at the shop to resume his education. It was not that he needed his space. He was simply ready to resume expanding his considerable intellect and ultimately desired to contribute to our financial well-being on his own merits.

I respected him for that and happily covered whatever expenses he was unable to through student loans and scholarship opportunities. Never once did I feel threatened by his academic and professional goals, and never once did our still torrid sex life suffer from them.

By age twenty five in May of '99 he had finished his final year of undergraduate studies and gone straight through to graduate with his MBA. He quickly found a good paying job at a local bank. It did wonders for his self-esteem and, if anything, we grew closer still.

Soon after his commencement ceremony Bret and Steve made us guests of honor at one their popular naked pool parties; a combined celebration of his achievement and our upcoming fourth anniversary. Their parties were so popular because they lived out in the country where prying eyes could only see all the hard dicks wagging around if they went out of their way to get a look. I had been a regular at them for several years prior to Chik's arrival and he quickly grew to love them too.

He adored ogling all the large naked men who turned out for them, which I never minded. In fact, the eye candy was something I enjoyed myself. Oddly, one of our bonds was a significant overlap in the men we liked to look at.

Bret was among our favorite pieces of eye candy there. In spite of the softness of his intimidatingly large build, its burly shape and natural muscle density always made me think of those weightlifters I had flipped over in my teens.

He and Steve were the first to accept me into their world when I first discovered bear culture. I was terribly drawn to Bret, and he to me. Once he explained to me that his relationship with Steve was open, I guess it was only natural that I succumbed to his persistent invitations to become one of his playmates.

However, that concept was so foreign to me in those early days that I never grew entirely comfortable with our sex play. Bret said it was an old-fashioned attitude but reluctantly conceded that he understood the guilt I felt where Steve was concerned. So, the three of us settled on being great friends who simply acknowledged that two of us were madly in lust.

It was a part of our history that we made no effort to conceal from Chik. He openly lusted after Bret, too, and actually found the behemoth's suggestive flirtations with me a titillating turn-on. That particular day Bret was in rare form and kept us all in stitches with the bawdy ribbing he threw our way.

After we left Chik grinned and said, "Bret sure would love for you to fuck him again."

"He was just joking around," I casually responded.

"Alright, Mr. Modest, if you say so," he said with a laugh, "but the way he looks at you...and he's such a sweetheart...you know I'd be okay with it, don't you? I mean, as long as you used a rubber. In fact, I'm getting hard picturing it! Speaking of which, did you see all the hard-ons spring up you when you stripped your clothes off?"

"I was too busy springing hard at Bret's gigantic balls," I replied.

"Yeah, we noticed," he playfully acknowledged, "but, trust me, once everybody else got a gander at you all muscle, belly and cock...you were the only one still preoccupied with Bret's balls. I love how jealous they get that I'm the lucky guy who goes home with you...who gets his ass fucked by you."

"Kind of had it in mind to get my ass fucked by you tonight, Mr. MBA," I confessed.

He grinned as he took my right hand from the steering wheel and laid it on his rigid member. I laughed and gave it a squeeze...then sped up.

When we got home we quickly went to the bedroom to undress. I finished first and got in bed to watch him strip the last of his clothes off. I studied how his beard was filling in and his build was filling out. He was still a slip of a thing compared to me, mind you, but a lot more solid looking than the frail, boyish waif I'd first brought home four years before.

He confidently walked up to my side of the bed to let me know he wanted some oral stimulation first. I rolled onto my side and studied the shape of his glans inside its handsome sheath. I began to nibble at his hood with my teeth, slowly working my tongue into it to trace it over the shapely contours of his cock head.

When I knew he was properly primed I opened my mouth for him to fuck a bit. He put a hand on the back of my head and inserted himself. It was exactly the way I like to be handled. I sucked the air out from around it till it was snugly cradled between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. It tasted a bit like chlorine at first but that soon yielded to his natural flavor, which I craved.

He began gently fucking my face and asked, "Is this good?"

"Mmmmmm," I responded as he worked my orifice.

"Easy there," he cautioned when my suction became too intense, "Don't spend me before I can get up your butt."

He let me work myself up a while longer and then slowly withdrew from my mouth. He grabbed the lube from the nightstand.

"We're almost out. I'll pick up some more on the way home tomorrow," he said.

"Use it sparingly, then, in case I need to fuck you when you're done," I told him.

"On your belly, big man," he said, sounding anxious, "let's get this show rolling!"

My belly had grown until it elevated my sphincter to a perfect height for him when he was on his knees. I pulled a pillow down to elevate my chest accordingly and then drew my legs up into what he jokingly called 'froggy' position.

"Your glutes look beautiful tonight...so firm and round," he sighed as he slicked his cock in the gel.

"Don't waste any on my hole, just use what's already on your fingers," I told him.

"Okay," he said as he worked one, then a second and finally a third through my ring to prep me, "Ready?"

"Been waiting for it all day, babe. Let 'er rip," I assured him.

He leaned into my saddle and pressed for entry. I bore down on my sphincter to welcome him in and felt his cock head slip through it with ease.

"Spread your cheeks for me," he instructed.

I turned my head to the side and rested it on the pillow as I reached back with both hands to accommodate him, spreading them as tightly as I could. He leaned in to grab onto my traps and inserted another couple of inches in the process. It felt fantastic and I instinctively clenched my hole on him.

"Oh-h-h-h, Papa! Careful!" he pleaded.

I had to laugh as I bore down on my sphincter to loosen my accidental tension around his trigger happy member. He pulled back on my traps, actually causing him to ride farther up into my ass crack rather than pulling my bulk back toward him. I felt him achieve full penetration, then he rested there a minute to get used to the fit of my chute before starting to fuck me.

He had become quite the anal top when I needed him to be during our few years together. His flair for building suspense before methodically delivering the full force of his fuck made me tingle. I gave him a few more jolts with my anus to test his readiness.

"I'm good for it now," he proudly stated.

With those words he proceeded to achieve enough depth, and with enough force, to give my prostate a sound thumping and then settled into his usual unhurried rhythm. I felt his thighs press on my balls at full penetration. It was incredibly comforting.

He stroked and stroked with the precision of an Olympic rower on my clutching hole. I didn't just feel his dick in my ass. The way he applied it made me feel the extent of his love for my entire being...all throughout my body. He listened to my moans and praised the way I was responding to him. I felt good, needed...I felt a sense of purpose.

He paused momentarily and I could tell by his throbbing that he was losing his load in me.

"Remember, fuck through it or you'll lose your hard-on," I reminded him.

"I'm trying," he assured me.

He quickly regained his composure and did as I said. I felt him getting a bit soft in me at first, but then he rose to the occasion and persisted until he was rock hard once again. The best part of his fuck was set to begin.

I started alternating the clutching of my sphincter to match his in strokes. Then I would switch and work with his out strokes...back and forth, back and forth.

His breathing was picking up and I could hear a bit of whimpering in it as I heightened the pleasure I found in his girth with my rhythmic clenching. I was prepared to let him pound me all night if he needed it.

It might not have taken him all night to achieve his next climax, but the ride was definitely long enough to sate my desire for him. He began to pick up speed and the slapping of his thighs against my backside began to increase in volume. I clamped my ring down on him very tightly and let him revel in all the pleasure I could impart to him.

He began making the noises I recognized as his announcement of his impending orgasm. I bore down on my hole to let him achieve his deepest penetration just as he slammed down on me for the last time and then clamped down with all my might to maximize the pleasurable sensations he was experiencing while ejaculating in me.

"I love you! OH, GOD! I LOVE YOU!" he sang out as he spent his load and then collapsed onto my broad back, his cock still buried in me.

I chuckled at his fervor and wiggled my big ass under him while he was still hard enough to enjoy the thrill.

"Did you get off?" I innocently asked.

He laughed and gave the side of my right butt cheek a stinging swat, "You know I did...don't be a show off!"

With that he pulled out and rolled off to my right side. I rolled up onto my left and studied him; eyes closed, hands folded on his tummy, his expression blissfully contented. I was so proud of the man he was becoming. His load began to leak out of me so I reached across him to snag a few tissues from the box on his nightstand and tended to the matter.

His eyes slowly opened and he saw my drooling hard-on peeking out from beneath my belly. He reached over with his left hand and caressed it.

"You need to fuck me?" he asked.

I dabbed at his spent, leaky cock with the tissues and said, "I can wait...tomorrow's a lifting day...you know what that means."

"Do I ever!" he replied with a wide grin as he gave it a squeeze.

I got up and went to the master bath to clean myself properly and brought back a damp wash rag to wipe off the fingers he had used to open me up along with his cock and balls. Sitting on his side of the bed I swabbed him thoroughly.

"Thanks," he sighed.

"You're welcome," I softly responded, "You were magnificent tonight...get some shut-eye, handsome."

I went back to the bathroom to rinse and wring the cloth and then tossed it in the hamper. When I rejoined him in the bed he was already beginning to snore lightly. I turned out the light and snuggled up to his side.

*****

I wish I'd had a crystal ball to see what the future held for those weightling icons of my youth. It appears our bodies are simply not designed for the kind of work required to tame the unwieldy barbell. By late 2001, my episodes of back pain were getting so frequent and severe that I finally caved to Chik's insistence that I see my doctor.

He referred me to a neurosurgeon for evaluation. When I removed my shirt for the young man to let him feel around on my spine he verbalized his surprise at the muscularity of my sizable bulk.

"Most guys your age and size are soft. Still lifting?" he asked as he worked his fingers from the small of my back on up the furrow between my traps, mentally noting where I winced the most.

"Yes...well...between these bouts of pain," I told him.

"How old are you?", he asked.

"Forty seven" I replied.

He came around to stand in front of me.

He looked at the chart and said, "Hmmm...282."

"Yes," I confirmed.

"Not much fat here, though. You obviously convert your food intake efficiently. How long you been at it?" he asked.

"Since I was about fifteen," I told him.

"More than thirty years then...I want to schedule you for an MRI," he said, "When I run across a guy like you who's lifted heavy past his prime I usually find some damage in the lower back. It certainly seemed that's where you're most tender."

"Past my prime," I said, unable to hide my distaste, "the pain in my back doesn't hurt near as much those words just did."

He laughed and continued, "Don't worry...you're still fairly young for a man...just a bit old for a weightlifter. You're going to have to make some lifestyle changes."

I winced.

He poked at my belly and said, "This for example...in spite of the impressive development of your core...it still puts a tremendous strain on your lumbar. I don't need pictures to know you're going to have to lose a good bit of that. See my receptionist on your way out to set up that MRI and we'll talk more then. Here's a prescription for some hydrocodone and muscle relaxers to help deal with the pain in the meantime. Part of your problem is that you're tensing up in anticipation of pain...only makes it worse."

Three weeks later I felt fine but was back in his office with Chik at my side to go over the MRI.

"This looks a lot worse than I imagined from my digital exam of your spine, Mr. Benton," he said looking grim as he studied the images.

Chik clutched my hand.

"See these discs between L-3, L-4 and L-5? They've both sustained some severe compression damage. I don't think surgery is in your immediate future as long as you give up the weights starting now, but you'll have more episodes of pain ahead of you. Did the hydrocodone and muscle relaxers help?"

"Yes, I feel fine now," I confirmed.

"Then drug therapy should see you through until such time as the surgery becomes unavoidable. The most important thing at the moment is to stop lifting...and stop eating like a lifter," he said, "If you don't then you'll probably cripple yourself beyond the ability of surgery to help you."