A Winter's Night

My wife had gone off to visit an old girlfriend from high school for the weekend, so I was home alone. A Nor'easter had blown in by surprise, so she'd decided to say through till Sunday, Monday if the roads were bad. I'd spent the day watching some football, and occasionally looking out the window as inch after inch of snow surrounded our neighborhood with an ever increasing blanket of snow.

As night fell there was a knock on the door that startled me. Who could be out on a night like this? What reason?

Wearing only sweats, I grabbed a tee and pulled it on as I walked down the stairs into the front entry hall to open the door, my mind quickly wondering if my wife was OK.

Flipping on the front porch light I saw an older man, maybe 64-65, suit and tie, no overcoat with a gash over his left eye. As I ripped open the door he asked if he could use my phone to call the police. Seems he'd been on his way home from work at the local hospital when someone side swiped his car, pushing him off the road and into a tree half a block down the street. His cell phone was not working, and he'd seen lights on in my house.

The police asked if he was OK, took down his information, and informed him that in this weather, and since he was not hurt badly, that they would have someone stop by his house the next day to fill out a police report.

Off the phone, snow dripping off his soaked suit onto my hardwood floors, blood sliding down his cheek from the gash over his eyes he introduced himself as Bill. He asked if he could make another call, but I suggested we clean up his eye, and get him into some dry clothes first. He kindly, but sternly refused, stating he needed to let his wife know that he was OK and safe first.

He dialed the number, and I was not paying much attention to the conversation when I heard him say, "Hold on and let me ask." His hand over the receiver he coughed to get my attention and said, "My wife is afraid to come out in this weather, and wants to know if there any chance that I could stay here for the night? I'll never get a taxi in this weather."

Not exactly a request one could refuse. The police were busy with more pressing issues, I'd already told my own wife to stay put at her friend's home, and there were already 12 inches of snow on the ground. "Sure, my wife is out of town any way, so let your wife know you have a roof over your head for the night."

The call ended, I suggested that I take a look at his eye, and that he should maybe take a hot shower while I got him something dry to wear. I walked him up to our second floor bathroom, turned on the lights and had a look at his eye. The cut was not deep, and other than some skin abrasions, and a slight bump it looked as if he would be fine. I got out some towels, told him to make himself at home, and then asked if he wanted something to knock the chill off.

"Got any Scotch?" Bill asked a hopeful tone to his voice.

I could not help but chuckle. "Sure, let me find you something to put on, and I'll bring back some Scotch as well."

I'm 5'8" and Bill looked to be at least 6'2", maybe a bit taller, and had to outweigh me by at least 40 pounds. Obviously, the only thing I had that would fit him was one of my robes. I went down to the bar off the kitchen, poured a nice three fingers of Scotch into a tumbler with a few cubes, went up to the master bedroom, retrieved a robe and returned to the bathroom thinking Bill would still be in the shower.

As I opened the door, I saw him standing, back to me, combing his hair in front of the mirror, a towel tossed over his shoulder. Before I could say anything he smiled at me via the mirror and said, "Great shower, is that Scotch I see?" As he turned around for the Scotch, it was impossible to miss what had to be at least an eight inch flaccid cock.

Again, as I stood there somewhat dumbstruck, he reached out, took the Scotch, turned back around to finish combing his hair, and said, "Thanks for the Scotch, meet you down stairs." It was not a question, but a statement, even a demand.

"Sure Bill, I'll be down in the den watching the game." Perplexed, I left the room and retreated to the den, stopping in the bar off the kitchen to pour myself a drink. I could not believe how hung he was.

A few minutes later Bill came in, plopped himself down on the leather couch across from the one I was on and said, "Nice house, how long have you lived here."

I answered the question, and the two of us chatted for awhile and watched the game. At the end of the quarter Bill asked if he could have some more Scotch, and started to get up. I told him to relax, that I'd get it. He asked, "You sure you don't mind waiting on me?"

I stood up and went over to get his glass, and could not help but notice his robe was opened just enough for me to catch another glimpse of his cock, could not help but notice it had a bit more stature to it. Must be the warmth from the gas fire place, and the Scotch I thought. Having taken his glass, I must have hesitated for a moment as I heard him say, "You going to get me that Scotch?"

"Oh, sure, be right back with it, can I get you anything else?"

"No, the Scotch is fine, and maybe you should get yourself another drink as well, I hate drinking alone."

When I returned with our drinks, Bill was lounged back into the sofa, his arms stretched up over the back, his legs parted, the robe partially open, his thick flaccid cock dangling between his legs, supported by two pear sized and shaped balls. All I could do was stare at it as he smiled, and then spoke. "You like what you see, or just amazed at the size?"

Blushing, realizing I'd been caught staring at this almost strangers cock and balls, I stammered, "Both." I wanted to turn away, but my feet seemed frozen in place. "It's the biggest cock I've ever seen."

"Good" he said as his smile broadened. "Why don't you bring me that Scotch and have a closer look at it."

Again, I was gazing at his cock which had noticeably swollen, and I could not resist his subtle command. As I moved to obey his words, I suddenly noticed he'd pushed the coffee table out of the way while I'd been off to get his Scotch.

As I handed him the Scotch, he took my drink as well and tossed a throw pillow on the floor between his now fully spread legs and said, "I think you will find kneeling on this far more comfortable than your hardwood floor."

A part of me wanted to refuse, but the other part of me seemed to be winning as I unconsciously began to lick my now dry lips. A voice inside my head kept screaming over and over again, "Oh My God, he's got a big dick!" It was as if the shear size of it was overriding my senses, washing away all resistance to his commands.

I stared at his cock, looked into his eyes as he smiled and said, "Come on boy, you know you want to touch it, now kneel."

His words pushed aside my few remaining doubts. My hands trembling, I steadied myself on his naked knees and knelt before him. "Yes Sir." Where did that come from? Why did I instinctively call him Sir?

"Good Boy."

Kneeling before him, his cock staring back at me, I could not help but be mesmerized by its size and girth, the mushroom shaped cock head straining to leap out of its uncircumcised skin. Again, my tongue darting across my partially parted lips as a soft husky whispering voice from deep inside me began almost chanting, "Oh my God, oh my God, it is so fucking big, oh my God."

Here I was, in my own home, kneeling before a man I scarcely knew, but one thing was certain. I could not resist his advances, was not even sure I wanted to any more. All I could do was stare at his hardening cock, knowing that soon I would be his cock sucking boy.

"You want to suck that dick boy." It was not really a question, but a simple statement of fact.

"Yes Sir."

"Yes Daddy, boy!" "Don't make that same mistake again. You will refer to be as Daddy, Master, or Master Daddy, but not sir."

"Yes Daddy."

"Good boy, now tell me what you want boy. You want to suck some of this BIG DADDY DICK?"

Did I? I stared at his cock, then looked up into his eyes. "Yes Daddy, I need to suck Big Daddy Dick. Please Daddy." My words, my voice shocked me, but on a visceral level it was true. At that moment, more than anything else, I wanted to suck his cock, wanted to suck his very impressive and commanding dick. "Yes Daddy Master, I want to suck your Big Daddy Dick."

Almost involuntarily, my hands began to rub and massage his thighs, slowly moving upward; closer to their target as I gazed into his eyes, watched him smile as my tongue continued to dart across my lips, as if they had already tasted the massive cock that was now demanding my undivided attention. He leaned forward, placed his hands on my head and kissed me deeply, his tongue forcing itself past my lips as I felt myself further surrendering to his desires. After a minute of this assault he leaned back, his left hand extending a finger too, and caressing my lips. I could not help but begin suckling on it.

He withdrew his finger, took a swallow of his Scotch, and then gazed down at me. "Settle down boy, and take a sip of your drink. We have plenty of time; I may even stay and extra day if this snow keeps up." I took a sip of my drink, watched as he placed my drink on the side table, and returned his gaze to me.

The intensity of his gaze too much, I looked down again, my eyes locking on his cock as it began growing harder, watched as my hands began working his thighs right where they became one with his testicles, two succulent shaved balls that seemed to almost glisten.