True story about how I came to live with one of my best friends’ dad for 18 months and how it turned freaky 😉
I was 24 and coming to the end of my degree. I’d had such a fun time, especially being a short, slim, gay, blonde twink in London for three years. I was weighing up my options about where to relocate to for my postgraduate training, as London wasn’t feasible for a few reasons.
One of the options I was considering was Leeds. I honestly didn’t know much about the place except from a few things I’d heard in conversation and from what I’d observed travelling through it before, but I’d heard it was pretty exciting, which is exactly what I wanted after uni. Since I didn’t properly know anyone there, I asked my best friend for some advice. To my surprise, he suggested I get in touch with his dad, Ramsey, who lived there. The reason I was surprised was based on everything he had already told me about his dad: the messy divorce, the distant nature of their relationship, the lack of communication, bad parenting, various other shady situations. Therefore, after all the stories, I was expecting someone quite stern, maybe even a bit of a villain. I could see that my friend was really going out on a limb for me by contacting his distant dad, all in efforts to support I could gather some thoughts from a Leeds local, so I contacted him.
The first thing that hit me was just how welcoming and chatty he was. Ramsey’s voice was just charming and northern, with a calm composure that immediately put me at ease. We started talking and actually clicked instantly. It turned out he was incredibly sociable, almost endlessly talkative, and knew how to carry a conversation. Despite our initial connection being rooted in discussions about Leeds, which he painted so well, making me eager to experience it firsthand, our conversations ventured far beyond that. He spoke intelligently about his high-fly finance job and stories from his life that were fascinating. But there was no posh air or demeanour about him despite his luxuries (luxury bungalow, black Porsche, vintage designer trainer collection, expensive watches, extensive travelling); he still had that rough-around-the-edges charm to him, a down-to-earth quality that made him seem so genuine. It became evident rather quickly, at least from my experience, that Ramsey was not the man my friend had portrayed. As a result, something else I wasn’t expecting was my attraction towards him. Trust me, I am never usually drawn to older guys or daddies, but I was so captivated by all the aspects of him I mentioned above and more, including even his body! I wouldn’t get a grasp of how manly he was until I met him but I could tell that he was a very broad man with wide shoulders, big arms and a dadbod!
Quick physical appearance description: 5 foot 9, broad and stocky build, thick arms with muscle definition, wide set shoulders and chest dusted with chest hair, dadbod belly, dark brown skin, short (almost buzzed) black hair with light greying, groomed beard. He always wore a thin silver chain round his neck usually hidden under clothing, and always some designer watch on his wrist. All in all, a large upper body with wide, muscular shoulders balanced by a rounded, fat-laden midsection. Size UK9 shoe. Ethnically, he looked incredibly Caribbean, however I believe he had some South Asian heritage also.
As we talked more over the weeks, I finally got to witness all of this beefcakeness in person when one weekend, I drove down to visit him. My heart was hammering against my ribs, because seeing him in the flesh was a completely different experience from hearing him over the phone. Ramsey was imposing in the best way: a wall of a man with those wide, heavy shoulders and a chest that seemed to fill the entire doorway. He greeted me with that same infectious, chatty energy, pulling me into a hug that practically swallowed me whole. Being pressed against his broad frame, feeling the sheer solidity of his build and the scent of expensive cologne mixed with something masculine and warm, it did things to me.
We spent the day exploring Leeds together, and he showed me around his favourite spots, local staples and the exciting places I needed to try later. Our friendship and connection solidified, and so did my crush. Every time he leaned in to point something out, or every time his large hand brushed against my shoulder, a jolt of electricity shot through me. I was completely smitten. By the time I had to drive back to London, I knew I couldn’t just visit Leeds, I had to live there. And more importantly, I had to live near him.
But I kept quiet about all this with my best friend. I didn’t want to seem like I was betraying my friend or making things awkward. So I just enjoyed getting to know Ramsey, keeping the feelings to myself. Eventually, when my accommodation search in Leeds hit a few frustrating dead ends, I decided to try a little tactic. I called Ramsey and told him I was struggling to find a good place to stay and feeling a bit overwhelmed. I hoped that would nudge him into offering me a spot to crash. And, well, it worked better than I imagined. Before I knew it, I was moving in with him.
Moving in was a dream. Living in that luxury bungalow felt like stepping into another world, but the real luxury was the proximity to him. I got to see him in his natural habitat: the way he moved around the kitchen in his loungewear, the scent of his expensive cologne lingering in the hallways, the sight of his massive frame filling the doorway. There was a lot of sexual tension and pent-up energy, in my mind at least, that became an electric current running through the house, and I just had knew I couldn’t let this perfect circumstance of living with this man pass me by!
The opportunity finally presented itself one evening when Ramsey returned from the gym, his head and neck glowing with sweat. He wore a dark grey Helly Hanson hoodie and light grey joggers that he filled out exquisitely. The fabric clung to his broad shoulders and accentuated the curve of his belly and the thickness of his thighs. He looked like a god of masculinity. As he sank into the sofa, exhaling a tired but satisfied sigh, I didn’t give him a chance to recover. I moved closer to where he was sat and started talking, my voice low and suggestive. He was explaining how he gets frustrated with himself, as he deliberately focuses on his arms / shoulders / chest / back, which procrastinates the real issue of his dadbod belly. However, I told him exactly how incredible he looked, detailing every part of him. And I especially noted that he wouldn’t look as sexy without the belly… in all honesty, it fills him out and suits him way better than any abs or flatness could. I was inching closer to him during this conversation, placing my hand on his shoulder and my legs over his thighs. He chuckled and tried interrupting me as I was talking but I wanted to continue complimenting his body. He placed a hand on my back, inviting me closer silently, so I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the softness, and squeezed his biceps. I could see his confidence spiking, his chest puffing out as he realized exactly what I was doing. Before he could respond, I climbed fully onto his lap, straddling him on the sofa. I felt the heat radiating off his body through the tracksuit, and the look in his eyes shifted from confusion to pure, raw hunger. I leaned in, and then I planted my lips on his. I could taste the sweat from his upper lip. As he kissed me back, he groaned, a deep, vibrating sound that I felt in my own chest, and his beard scraped my chin, which felt great. He grabbed my waist with those huge, powerful hands, pulling me flush against him, and the kiss was explosive. We made out for nearly 10 minutes, swapping saliva and touching tongues as I grinded on him. It turned me on feeling his dick swelling beneath me.
I knew I couldn’t leave it there as just a kissing session, so I swiftly slid off his lap and knelt between his wide-spread thighs, placing my palms on his knees. Ramsey let out a ragged breath, his head falling back against the cushions, and pulled his dick out of his grey joggers for me with a wink. I slid the joggers and his navy Polo Ralph Lauren boxers down to his ankles and admired his dick for a moment. Thick and pulsing, it was hard and looked a good 8 inches, with a pretty mushroom tip. It was cut, girthy and above anything, it was mine tonight! I pursed my lips and got to work blowing him, making sure I was getting his balls, using my hands and my tongue properly and giving him all I had. It was really hot feeling him seize up for those split seconds where it felt sensitive for him. His hips were bucking upward, perhaps instinctively, to meet my mouth, and he had his hands in my hair… it was a sign for me he clearly liked it rough, just like me.
Suddenly, he pulled my head off his dick and ushered me to lie on the couch, legs up. I guess he was used to women, fucking them deeply in missionary, but he found my ass easy enough with his cock. He entered me and stroked a few times, before rushing to go slick his dick with some coconut oil, and then he started to fuck me properly. The sex was primal and oh so worth it. It was clear we had amazing sexual chemistry. We were both loud and verbal, and both giving it high energy and stamina. He was heavy and solid, his massive thighs framing my hips like pillars of granite. We tried a couple more positions, finally ending in doggy, where he was fucking me like mad and I was moaning like a baby – it was clearly his favourite position. The world narrowed down to the rhythmic, heavy thud of his huge frame beating against my back and the singular, overwhelming sensation of him filling every available inch of me. He didn’t slow down once; if anything, the impact only fuelled his fire. The angle was perfect, allowing him to bury himself deep, and with every plunge, I felt the solidity of his dadbod pressing firmly against my backside, as I arched my back for him. He surged forward one last time, burying himself as deep as physically possible and I felt his entire body lock up. He came in my hole: a powerful, pulsing release that felt like it lasted for an eternity. Up until that point, I don’t think I had ever felt more like a whore. The semen of a beautiful BBC was leaking down my leg and I was smiling so hard. The way this man had filled me up, there was nothing that could stop me getting more. As we were lying on the sofa naked just decompressing and pillow talking afterwards, I remember him saying, “You have no idea what you’ve started.” And boy, was he right!
The weeks that followed were a blur of sex. Like any time we were at home, we were fucking. Several times a day in different areas of the house. I was absolutely hooked, I couldn’t get enough. Although he was already a great partner sexually, I was his first gay fuck, so I knew I had to show him the ropes to gay and anal pleasure. I guided him over time, showing him exactly how I wanted it. I wanted him to take charge and I showed him how to pin my wrists, how to use his weight to overwhelm me and the specific angles that made my head spin. He additionally discovered ways that made him spin too. And in a matter of weeks, he became a beast, a pro, a DOM, surpassing my expectations and previous experiences, no doubt! He discovered the joy of owning me, and the more I encouraged his aggression, the more he leaned into it.
With every new technique – whether it was the strategic use of a silk tie to bind my ankles, or the way he learned to use his voice to command me into positions of total surrender, or the way he mastered how to dominate and pin me down, or the way he perfected how to eat my ass, or the way he would try to imitate the faces or sounds I would make as he fucked me raw, or how impressive he found it when I would ride him and swirl on him – Ramsey transformed. He really blossomed into a sex god, his natural charisma evolving into a raw, assertive confidence. We got kinky and he started taking risks, his touch becoming rougher, his grip more insistent. He was rough, confident and absolutely dominating, his voice growling commands in that deep northern accent that sent shivers down my spine. He was already a very confident and charismatic guy, but there was a definitely a change in behaviour for him. For one, the pride he took in his body shifted; he no longer saw his dadbod as a flaw to be managed, but as a tool of pleasure, a heavy, warm anchor that could ground me while he drove us both toward the brink. I loved how he could use his broad chest to crush the breath out of me in the most intoxicating way. I loved the feeling of being completely engulfed by him. He also loved the way I submitted and reacted to him, giving him the best head of his life and adapting to all the ways he would dominate me. He was genuinely the perfect dom. I think I have the licence to call myself the luckiest bottom in the world!!! At least for the 18 months I lived in Leeds with him.
🔞 Candy.AI 🔥 AI Sex Chat – Roleplay, Erotic Stories, Try for Free 🕹️