Popular Post NickSR Posted September 28, 2021 Popular Post Share Posted September 28, 2021 Hey guys! Here is part 2 of what I think will be 3 or 4 parts total! As you will find out in the first line, Part 1 actually occurred in the son's head (stay with me lol!) - but I did that intentionally because when I wrote this I wanted it to be a bit more "realistic." We've all seen a hot guy at the gym or out-and-about that we day dreamed about later on, only wishing we could feel his flexed muscles. It can suck to see a hot guy and fantasize only to come back to reality. Part 2 though, is when that fantasy becomes a reality. What if we actually had the courage to compliment that guy's muscles or ask to see him flex? Better yet, what if the bodybuilder, wanted to? What if the 50 year old muscle daddy we've all jacked off to actually wanted to flex for us and got off on it?? Part 2 is a bit of a slow burn but, as you'll see by the end, Part 3 is going to get VERY hot for the son. Enjoy About My Dad . . . Pt. 2 “Are you okay?” He suddenly asked very concerned, almost like the tone he had used earlier. “What?” I squinting an eye confused at his rapid shift in composure and tone. “Are you okay? I asked you and you just kind of starred off for a second.” He said smiling at me, in front of me having just walked in from work. He was fully clothed. Sometimes he would come in and strip down to his boxers, but not today apparently. I blinked a few times as a sudden wave of disorientation came over me. With this came a wave of self-awareness. I was red, my heart was pounding, and my breathing was heavier since he had walked in. Damn. All of that, just from him walking in the house from work? I needed to get a grip to say the least. “Yeah of course, sorry I didn’t hear you the first time, I just woke up from a nap a few minutes ago so I’m still really groggy, you know how it goes!” I said trying to playoff my embarrassing daydreams as best I could. And that’s all it was. A daydream, a fantasy, whatever you want to call it. Now, to be clear, my dad’s body was not a fantasy. I could still see the outlines of his tick pecs and arms through his shirt. I could even see some of his veins in his biceps actually. But everything past him walking in had been nothing more than some weird scenario my brain had made up. That is not to say it was entirely fictional though. Those things, the things that I confessed to him, the embarrassing, pressing things that I wanted to say were all true. I did admire his new physique. But how on earth could I ever tell him that? Sure it played out well in my fantasy, but in real life, how could it? “Well how about, you get yourself oriented,” he looked at me again with a half-smile in half pity, “and I’ll go change. Are you hungry?” He asked turning away. “Actually yeah I’m starving.” “Okay I should have dinner ready pretty soon actually, it’s nothing fancy, but it won’t take long!” He assured as he walked back into his room. Once he was out of sight I stood and immediately headed for my room, on the opposite side of the living room area. A strong head rush overtook me and I started to lose my balance as my vision darkened. Slowly the world returned to how it should be and I went into my room. Despite the shortness of my daydream, it had put more blood in other places faster than I thought it would. I leaned on my bed for a second and put my head down to catch my increasingly short breath. “Okay get ahold of yourself. Yes, you want to say that, but you can’t.” I tried to assure myself. As much as I wanted to deny it though, this wasn’t the first time I had thought about a situation like that. My dad really had bulked up over the past 2 years, and he had begun to show off his gains far more than he used to. 3 years ago my dad was a bit nervous to wear shorts out of the house, and would only ever wear t-shirts and shorts in doors. Now, fast forward to present day, and he casually walks around in his boxers. Honestly, I’d say he’s half-naked more than he is clothed whenever he’s home at this point. So not only had my dad gotten a ripped body, he was obviously okay showing it off. Making matters worse though, I’m not sure he realized just how confused it made me feel. He casually walks around in tight briefs flashing . . . well . . . all of his muscles and his manly body. I try not to look too often, but it had become more and more difficult not to. He had grown so much in the past few months and he didn’t really show any intention of stopping or slowing down. He was as hooked on getting in shape as I was hung up on his progress. I kept going back and forth in my head for a few minutes, trying to throw reason into the bizzar cocktail my brain had stirred up. Eventually I decided I should probably just lay down for a few minutes, you know actually take that nap I had mentioned before, and see how I felt after I meditated and rested for a few minutes. As I sat in my bed I couldn’t help my mind from going back to all of the thoughts I had just had, and how . . . intoxicating they were. I wasn’t quite sure how to reconcile or reason them, but after a few moments, growing upset with myself, I decided to clear my mind. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. It took a few minutes but before I could even realize it my mind started to wonder off to other random thoughts as I dozed off. I knew a decent amount of time had passed, but I wasn’t sure how much exactly. I knew my dad was cooking in the kitchen, but I wasn’t mentally keeping track of the noises I heard. My half asleep rest was suddenly broken when I heard, “Yo, dinner’s up if you want to eat!” My eyes slowly opened, and for a brief second I just sat up in bed and didn’t really think about anything. I sat still momentarily getting my bearings and checking the time. Only 25 minutes had passed, but it was restful. Just as I swung my leg out, it was like a switch hit, and my brain was right back to wear it had been before I had fallen asleep. What was I going to do? It was such a simple question with a myriad of potential answers. A thought flew through my mind, somewhat unexpectedly. “What if I just told him like I did in my head?” What!? I couldn’t do that! No, there is no way . . . could I? No. I couldn’t tell my dad that. I got up and walked to the door and just as I reached for the door knob my mind started to tilt the other direction. What if I did though? I would feel so much better. Okay yeah, he probably wouldn’t brag about his tight briefs or flex in front of me, but what if I just told him the truth and was honest about it. At least in the first part of my fantasy, it worked out pretty well. I didn’t need to disclose more than I had to, but I could at least be more honest than I had been. I had wrestled with this for so long, even before today, that to suddenly have a clear and lucid solution come to my head, it felt odd. Was I being hasty? I had never felt this sense of confidence before, so why now? I walked to the kitchen continually weighing the different scenarios, but ultimately, as I approached the table I knew. I could at least . . . tell him part of it right? At nothing else I would feel better about it, and maybe I wouldn’t feel so awkward every time he walked around in just his underwear. I pulled out my chair and sat down just as he came to the table with a final dish. He put it onto the table and then sat down across from me. He had changed from his dress clothes into a cream/gray sweater and dark blue jeans. Honestly, I was a bit surprised. He didn’t usually wear that much clothing once he got home, but I guess today he was just feeling fashionable. Either way, his body was still too large to conceal. His sweater was filled out and I could see loose outlines of his shape and masculine build. “Did you fall asleep again?” He asked beaming his eyes at me. His face was striking honestly. His beard, his eyes, his jawline, everything. “No not quite, I just sat for a few minutes.” I said putting food onto my plate looking down. I really didn’t mean for there to be any subtext to that statement but apparently he found some. “I know I asked this earlier, but are you okay?” I looked up holding a spoon in my hand. Was this it? Was this the moment? My face flushed and butterflies flew through my stomach at the thought of actually being honest with my dad. “You’ve just seemed a bit off today, are you sure everything is okay?” He took a quick sip of his wine before placing it back down. Silence fell between us, clearly indicating there was some hesitation on my end. I thought I would slowly work my way into this topic, but . . . I guess there was just no waiting. I put the bowl and spoon down and looked up at my dad, whose expression was neutral, but tinged with a hint of concern. My palms began to sweat as I thought of how to phrase what I wanted to say. My throat knotted up and I could feel my heart pounding against my chest, part in eagerness and part in fear. I was an idiot for doing this, but my lips started to move and, almost as though a flood gate had opened, I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. After all of these months, I finally answered my father honestly. “Actually, um . . . there is something I wanted to talk to you about. . .” I began as I took a deep, hopefully discrete, breath in. Sitting across from me my dad looked so fashionable, large, confident, and mature. Was I really about to say this? For a brief second I hesitated and thought of what else I could say instead. Maybe school was getting tough, or I was having issues with a friend and needed his advice? As all of these different thoughts ran through my head I couldn’t help but feel a sense of avoidance. I had been avoiding talking to my dad about this for so long, I didn’t know how much longer I could bottle it all up. I needed to be honest. I rolled my lips, my mouth going dry, and I swallowed nervously. “Alright so this is going to be a bit . . . odd I guess, but I have been thinking about it for a while and I just want to say it.” My palms became tingly as more adrenalin hit me. “Hey, whatever it is, we can talk about it. If something is bothering you, you can tell me!” He sat up slightly. My mouth hung open for a few seconds as I tried to formulate the right words to use. Trying to let out some of the built-up energy I was pressing my right foot into my left foot hard enough that I should have felt discomfort, but I was too distracted. “Um . . . okay so, lately, over the past few months . . .” This was it. After all of these months, all of my fantasies of being honest, I was finally going to say it. An almost blind confidence came over me, somehow pushing me to blurt out a coherent thought. “You’ve really found a passion for working out over the past few years, but in the past months you’ve really started to well, um . . .” I gestured my hand looking for the right word. “Show progress.” I decided. My dad’s look went from one of concern and near sick to a calmer, albeit curious expression. His face fell into a frown of confusion for a moment before asking, “Well thank you.” He laughed or a second. “But, how does that relate to you?” He adjusted in his seat, sitting up straighter, his sweater bending against his body. I had already started the conversation and, even if I wasn’t fully honest, I had to at least say enough so that I could stop thinking about it. “Well, I don’t know a good way to say it, but basically, since you’ve started working out you’ve made a lot of progress, I mean awesome, but I have been feeling a bit . . . confused lately I guess. I think that’s the best word I know to use for it.” My legs were trembling so hard under the table I was surprised they weren’t making more noise. My shoulders began to tremble as well. I knew what I was trying to say but I could tell I was making as much sense to him as I was to myself. “Oh, well confused how?” He didn’t seem at all put off, but instead curious. So far so good. “You know, okay, let me put it this way. I’m not saying any of this in a bad way, if anything I think the transformation you’ve made is great! But that’s kind of why I am confused. A year and a half ago you would work out and come home, nothing overly noteworthy. But then a few months ago you started to . . .” I almost choked on my words. “Show a bit more. I mean it’s hard to hide I guess. But lately I’ve been feeling a bit conflicted. I’m in college apparently at the peak of my athletic skills, and at 53 you’ve managed to get really, really, fit.” I was about to pause but he nodded his head for me to continue and finish my thought. “So, I guess I’m just confused because at 53 you have gotten really, well, muscular.” My heart sped up at the compliment. “And on the one hand, it’s kind of weird because you know usually guys in their 20s are more athletic than their dads, but on the other hand I actually . . . admire the progress you’ve made.” My speech had started to noticeably speed up. I nodded my head as though to say, “That’s all.” “So yeah, that’s how I’m feeling I guess.” I allowed myself to catchy my breath as he looked down at his wine glass for a second, clearly pondering over what I had just said. Had I said too much? I thought I had sounded normal, and hopefully, somewhat restrained. “Okay so . . .” He started to rock his head back and forth as though a rather simple solution were in reach. “You feel confused, but I guess I’m a bit confused too.” He let out a small chuckle as he spun his wine glass in his hand. “Did I make you uncomfortable somehow?” “No.” I responded a bit too quickly. “No, sorry I’m not being clear, it’s just, I admire what you’ve been able to do but at the same time . . .” “Oh.” He said as though having an embarrassing realization. He blushed slightly. “Do . . .” he hesitated on the next few words he was going to say. “Does it bother you?” He asked almost bashfully. I needed to use the right words, but I was afraid to. How could I be fully honest with my dad about something like this? I had always been incredibly honest with my dad but this was going into new territory I wasn’t sure about. We’re both men. Could I really tell him that he made me feel like less of a man? “I guess I just don’t fully understand what you are saying, but I get at least, that somehow, I’ve done something.” He leaned forward a bit, placing his arms into his lap, flaring out his triceps causing his sweater sleeves to expand under their flexed mass. I paused for a second. We were already into the conversation so it was too late now. I had started it, I might as well keep going, even if his arms were already making me sweat, I knew I would feel better after. “That makes it sound bad. What I mean is . . .” I breathed in and tried to feel as calm as I could so I could say this clearly. “I feel like at 20 something, I should be more muscular and athletic, but I look at you at 53 and, dad, you have a 6-pack. Like you have the build I’m supposed to have at 20, well but you’re even more built than that really. So in a way I kind of feel . . . like . . .” I knew the exact word I wanted but settled for a compromise. “Lesser I guess. I look at what you have been able to accomplish and it’s awesome, truly. There is a part of me though, that feels weird about it. You’re 53, a doctor, and more athletic than I am. But then that’s where my confusion starts.” My thoughts and speech were started to slow and become clearer. “It’s actually kind of what I just said I suppose. You know looking at it objectively: you are 53, you are a doctor, and you still have abs somehow, that most dudes in college are trying to get. So yeah in ways it makes me feel kind of . . . insecure is a good word for it if I’m being honest, but then I also feel . . . I don’t know it’s cool. You are 53 and are more athletic than most guys I know who are less than half your age. It’s awesome you’ve been able to workout so much. You’re smart and . . .” I nearly choked, but managed to disguise it with a pause. “Pretty buff.” I said laughing nervously as I looked down. My clarity was starting to turn back into racing thoughts as I allowed myself to process the honesty I had just used. Holy shit. After months of feeling insecure and unsure of how to approach my dad, if I should at all, I had just told him how I felt. Not entirely, and not the full extent, but close enough. Closer than I had come up to this point. Still, in being so honest, I was afraid of how he would react. I had done my best to say it in a neutral way, but what if he read into it the wrong way? I didn’t want him to feel bad. “Well,” He finally spoke looking down at his hands and then back up at me, his worry had seemed to alleviate somewhat. “First, thank you’re for the compliments, I’ve worked hard so good to know it’s paying off. More importantly though, I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that way, I . . .” He shook his head looking for the right words. “I guess maybe I shouldn’t just walk around here in my boxers, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” “That’s the thing though, and I what I am trying to say. Yes, I feel insecure when I see how big you’ve gotten, but at the same time I like it.” “Like it?” He asked quizzically. “Like how?” He asked tilting his head, seemingly in genuine curiosity. Maybe I was going to have to be more honest than I was already comfortable with. To be clear, it was not lost on me that my honesty up to this point had largely been unintelligible rambling. “Well okay, you’ve been wearing more tanks lately. At first when I see how large your arms have gotten that’s when I think, gee I’m 20 and don’t look anything like that. My dad is 53 and has way better arms than I do. But then I think, damn, he’s a doctor and looks that good even over 50. So it’s not that I mind you showing your results, I’m just saying it is a bit confusing that I have both of these feelings at the same time. But between the two, I’d say the admiration is stronger. I’m not asking you to change anything or do anything differently . . .” I took a controlled breath in, perhaps the first I had taken in this entire conversation. I paused and allowed my mind to catch up. Despite my nerves and rapid heartbeat, I was somehow calm and articulate. I didn’t really know where this was coming from, but I sure as hell was not going to question it. “I just have been feeling a bit self-concious about it lately, so I just wanted to be honest.” I nodded my head at him, indicating, in a nutshell, that’s how I felt. “As I said, if it makes you uncomfortable I feel bad about that . . . but, I almost get the idea it’s not discomfort per se. You said you might feel a bit insecure, but, at the same time it doesn’t bother you I wear say tank top or . . . I guess if I don’t wear a shirt. Does it bother you if I don’t wear a shirt?” He asked to clarify. “No, I mean if you want to walk around without one, go for it. Like I said, I just get a little self-concious that . . .” I trailed off afraid to finish my sentence. “That . . .” he pressed slightly. “That . . .” I blinked, finally letting go of my restraint. He wanted an answer, and we had already come too far. “I actually don’t mind when you do. Does that make any sense?” “Okay!” He said as though finally solving a puzzle, which given how I was talking it was a bit of one. His face lit up and his overall mood seemed to switch from quizzical and unsure, to confident and almost, happy? “I think I understand you now.” He let out another laugh, and sat back in his chair crossing his legs under the table. “You do?” I asked a bit unsure of if he really did or not. “Yeah, I think I do, and listen it’s okay.” He reassured me as he brought his eyes back up to me. “I think I can piece together what you are saying. You are a bit insecure now that I’ve started working out more, but there is a part of you that doesn’t mind it.” He said reiterating what I had said before. “So . . . can I ask you a direct question?” He asked looking at me with a more neutral expression, but his overall tone hadn’t seemed to have shifted. I was a bit hesitant to respond in my head, but out loud I responded, “Sure.” “You said you are insecure about me being, well a bit more athletic lately, but you also said you don’t mind it. So do you not mind when I walk around with, say, a tank or without a shirt all together?” He crossed his arms over and put them on the table as he leaned on his elbows. “Yeah I mean, that’s kind of what I was saying before. I think it’s cool.” “So you are okay feeling a little insecure, that doesn’t bother you?” “No, it’s okay like I said the other side of it outweighs that.” I said starting to blush at his pressing questions. “You used the word admiration before. So when I get home and just change into my boxers, you . . . well I’ll ask, you like how I look?” He asked directly. I paused, a bit taken aback by his sudden directness. “Um, well, I . . .” I stammered. “Let me try it this way. You say you feel insecure when you see my body since I started working out, but if you also admire my progress, that must mean you don’t mind how I look either.” He said trying to direct my words. Sensing hesitation from me and let out a small laugh and then looked back up at me. “Like I said it’s okay . . .” he prefaced. “You like how my body looks since I started working out right?” He said looking at me following his blunt statement. “I didn’t say that exactly, I just said . . .” “Dude, it’s okay, you can be honest, you don’t need to feel embarrassed about it.” He said calmly and casually. “Well I just meant that, you’ve put in a lot of work and it’s inspiring.” I said trying to suddenly back track out of the conversation that I had started. We were starting to float into the zone I was trying to avoid. I wanted to be honest, but only to a certain degree. “Listen, it’s okay to admire my progress, you don’t need to be shy about it.” Even though he said this as normally as he would have said anything else, I couldn’t help but notice the cockiness of his words that he said so nonchalantly. My dad had become secure enough in his muscular body he could be cocky and not really think anything of it. In his mind, of course I would admire his work, why wouldn’t why? That only added to my level of fascination. He was hot, and he knew it. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” I said highlighting the irony of using his own words on him. “You’ve worked really hard to get to where you are, and I just feel bad . . .” “Why though? Like I’ve said I really don’t mind.” “Okay.” I interjected a bit hastily, somewhat embarrassed that he had managed to get this out of me. It was more than I had been ready to admit. Still, I couldn’t deny, it felt good to finally get this out in the open. If I hadn’t been fully honest I just would have bottled more of this up and the process would have repeated. This was better. I was finally able to be honest with him. But I need to make sure we were on the same picture, and I wasn’t just taking his words to confirm my own thoughts. “I guess just to clarify, you don’t mind what?” Realizing I cut him off, I spoke a bit softer. “You admiring my new physique.” He said point-blank almost as though this had been clearly established. “It won’t make me uncomfortable, and . . .” He rolled his lips deciding if he should continue or not. I looked up unsure of what to say, why would he hesitate all of a sudden? For as nervous as I had been, that is how cool he had been up to this point. He nodded his head, having found the right way to phrase it, and gestured his hands from side to side as though telling me something awkward but something that needed to be said all the same. “It hasn’t made me uncomfortable up to this point.” My eyes widened almost by instinct. My mind went blank. For a second I just sat in my chair entirely unsure of what to say or do. Had . . . had my dad caught me before? “You . . .” I started, elongating the vowel unable to put more words in front of it. My dad started to laugh again, like someone had told a funny, but satisfying ending to a long story. “Alright, I’m trying to be sensitive given what you’ve said, but I’m just going to be honest. If you want to check out my progress sometimes that’s okay. Your old man has some big guns, it’s okay to look.” As he said this he brought his arm just barely off of the table and flexed his right arm. Even under his sweater I could still see his arm expand with power and muscle as he flexed it. Even in a large sweater my dad’s muscles still looked like they were going to come through the seams. “And that doesn’t bother you at all?” I asked in genuine amazement, given that he was essentially telling me something I had thought was taboo for so long was . . . apparently completely understandable. “No! Honestly, I wish you had told me sooner that you were feeling so insecure about this. You don’t have to feel bad about checking out my body. Hell I flex in front of the mirror every night, I get it.” He said leaning back in his chair. My dad was not a “bro” per se, but the tone he had just used was one of the most bro-like things I think I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. Again, he wasn’t outwardly cocky necessarily, but he had adopted a new casual cockiness that was so . . . exhilarating. Now granted I had never seen nor have I seen my dad flex in the mirror, but I’m pretty sure a few years ago he wouldn’t have done it. Especially not every night if he did. Still following this statement I was almost a bit unsure of how to respond. I had been afraid to mention me checking him out, but he brought it up so easily and apparently didn’t have the first problem with it. Luckily after a moment, he broke the silence and I didn’t have to say anything. “So yeah if that’s all that’s bothering you don’t worry about it. Besides, like I said, I’ve caught you checking my arms when I stretch, it’s cool.” “I’m just glad it’s not a problem. I still feel kind of bad, but I’m glad I finally got this off of my chest.” “Exactly, don’t sweat it.” He smiled as he took another sip of his wine. Suddenly a very bad thought went through my mind. One I couldn’t act on, but I wanted to. I had already started the conversation and my dad had already dismissed my apologies multiple times. My whole body felt liked folding in on itself as a rush of heat spread across my limbs. My brain was basically drowning in adrenalin at this point, and my better judgement was a bit cloudy. Still my palms got sweaty again and I could feel my chest get tighter as I considered taking a gamble. A big one. Maybe I didn’t have to confess everything to him . . . maybe I could ask. Just as he put his glass back down and swallowed his wine I tried to appear as calm as I could as I asked: “So to that end actually, you said it’s not a big deal.” What the hell was I about to do?! I knew somewhere deep in my mind this was a bad idea, but I couldn’t help it. I had to at least try. “This might be kind of awkward, and I totally get if you think it’s weird,” he narrowed his eyes slightly and tilted his head. “but . . . you know I really do admire all of the work you’ve put in to getting so in-shape, I guess I’m . . .” At this point my brain was on autopilot, it was almost surreal. My urges were overpowering my logical thoughts, but I still couldn’t quite bring myself to ask the question I had been wanting to ask for months. Ever since I saw my father shirtless for the first time. A second passed and I brought my eyes back to his. He was being patient to say the least. “Ugh never mind, I’m just playing around.” I abruptly, and awkwardly, blurted out. I caved. How on earth was I ever going to ask my dad to flex? It was a stupid idea to say the least, and an even worse ending to my proposition that I didn’t finish. “Oh my gosh,” my dad laughed and leaned his head back a little with a smile. “You were going to ask something, you don’t need to be nervous. I’m serious whatever it is, I’d rather you say it so it won’t bother you anymore. Like a minute ago, you were worrying all this time about checking my physique out, and I couldn’t care less. So go ahead, if you have a concern or a question, say it.” He said in a supportive and caring tone. “You’ve really packed on more mass lately, and it’s pretty cool, so I was just wondering if . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to ask, but apparently I didn’t need to. He let out a small grunt and laugh, putting his head back and then looking back at me, relaxed and calmer than he had been a second ago. “Do you want to see me flex?” He asked, knowing he was taking the words right out of my mouth. My shoulders contracted and my throat seemed to get tight. He had gotten cockier since he started lifting and it was hard not be drawn to it. He was so confident, so strong. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as I crossed my arms over. “You know, you ugh . . . took the words right out of me. I know it’s a bit weird.” Ignoring my hesitation, he grimaced at me for a moment, dismissing my worries, before letting a coy smile come across his face. “I’ll flex.” He said with complete confidence and calmness. He then brought his right arm up and flexed his bicep. Even under his sweater, the large mass of muscle contracted and pushed up on the fabric. The sleeve rose and peaked along with his powerful, peaked bicep. My father’s biceps had to at least be 17 or 18 inches. They were so large, and even in his sweater I could clearly see the peak and the bottom of his triceps as they strained the fabric. He had only flexed his right bicep, but already I felt small and powerless in his presence. “See?” He asked as he raised his left arm and formed a full double bicep. Across the table, my father was flexing his large biceps, showing the span of his arms and his lats. He was a tall man, and had managed to build his long arms into masculine, powerful bands of muscle. Looking at his with a wide torso, and his raised, pumped arms, he looked so authoritative. He was only flexing, but I could feel just how much more of a man he was than me. All of this time, I had wanted to see him flex, I had fantasized about it. And now he was doing it as though it were nothing out of the ordinary. “I don’t think you believe me. If you want to check out my body,” he brought his eyes to mine and elongated his arms before contracting them again. “Or if you want to see me flex, I really don’t care.” “Damn.” I breathed out with a small laugh. “So you really are totally okay with all of this.” “Totally. I’ve worked hard to get a body like this so if anything I take it as a compliment.” “Well, you look . . . great!” I complimented. He lowered his imposing arms down to his side but he didn’t break his eyes from mine. “So is that really all you wanted to see?” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Well you’ve been holding that in all this time, and you just wanted to see me flex my arms?” “Oh, I was just curious like I said, I . . . yeah that . . .” “I can take my sweater off.” He offered casually as though offering me dessert. “You don’t need to do that.” I lied blushing. “Alright.” He lowered his head slightly and got a mischievous grin on his face. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but if you ask, it is getting a bit warm in here. But I know I’ve been getting a lot more vascular lately, and that might be kind of freaky.” He took a sip of his wine, not letting his eyes escape mine. “I don’t think they’re freaky.” I responded. “It’s pretty . . . you know, masculine I think.” “So just ask.” He laughed slightly as he slowly pulled the wine glass away from his mouth and nodded at me in confirmation. How was this happening? After all of these months of trying to steal looks, or turn my head away at just the right time, my dad was willing to show me his muscles? Was it really that easy? Is that all I had to do this entire time? My mind was overrun with thoughts I couldn’t process. Okay . . . after all these months I guess I was really about to ask what I had only dreamed of asking the man sitting across from me. “Dad, could you take off your sweater?” I asked nearly doubling over in my seat from the rush of energy and adrenalin. It felt so good to finally ask him. To finally be honest and admit how much I admired his body. “See! That wasn’t so hard!” He said rolling his eyes and smiling as he stood up from his chair and brought his hands down to his waistline before lifting the sweater off of his hulking frame. I guess I hadn’t really thought it over much, but I didn’t think of what my dad would be wearing under his sweater. I had assumed he was, well, not wearing anything. Somewhat to my dismay he had a black t-shirt on under it. He pulled the sweater off and suddenly his large, masculine, striated arms came into view. As he finished pulling his sweater off, he put it on the chair he was just sitting in. Looking at him now though, I have to admit, the shirt was not all bad. It only came halfway down between his shoulders and biceps. It emphasized the impressive size of his trained arms and hugged against his abs and chest as though it were glued to him. My dad had to have known it clung to his body. He was comfortable enough in his own skin to wear clothes that would show just how ripped he had gotten. A few years ago he would have never worn such a thing. Before I could process enough to say anything he extended his right arm out away from his waist and gripped his fist. His bicep and tricep became distinct muscles and formed cuts along his arm, leading to the many veins that covered his forearm. “Like I said, I’ve been getting a lot more vascular lately. I like having all of these veins. What do you think?” He said looking at his pumped forearm before turning towards me. It seemed like the first time I had been given permission to actually look at his body but some part of me was still hesitant to do so from the long habit I had established. All the same, I looked along his extended arm and took in all of the minute details of his chiseled arm. “I meant what I said,” I giggled in slight amazement. “They really make you seem . . . like . . . built you know?” I tried to repeat the word, “masculine,” but my mouth couldn’t quite get around the word. I was so taken aback that this was actually happening. I figured this wouldn’t last much longer though so I just tried to savor the moment. “Yeah I really like it. I’ve been getting more veins all over honestly.” He said somewhat distracted as he looked up and down both of his arms. He brought both arms down by his sides and turned his fists away from his torso so that his triceps flared out from the side of his already tight sleeves. The back and side of his forearms seemed to separate into multiple groups and bands of muscle, covered in the veins I had just admired. “I’ve been trying to add size lately, and I think it’s starting to show.” He brought his arms up for a double bicep pose as he looked along his right and left pumped arms. His arms formed a beautiful, hard peak. He brought his eyes back to me and smiled. As he rose his arms up his tight shirt strained against his torso and lifted above his belt. I could see a small amount of skin around his abs, but couldn’t really make anything out. Even if I had been able to I couldn’t take my eyes away from my father’s flexed arms. They were so large and full of power. To be clear, my dad’s biceps weren’t just sizeable. They looked like arms that belonged on a competitive bodybuilder. Well, I guess at this point, that is what my dad looked like in general. So dry, full, and cut, his arms were beautiful and manly. “Damn, you have really gotten bigger lately.” I affirmed. “Your arms are . . .” I stopped myself and rethought my word choice. “They’re great.” I said clearly hiding a word preference. “Dude, you don’t need to feel weird about it. You can complement your old man’s arms, that’s fine. I mean I’m flexing them right? I’m just showing off my hard work, you can admire it.” He said very smoothly and permissibly. “Okay.” I said with a nod, cracking a devious smile. The surreal feeling of the situation was starting to fade into a more intense reality sensation. This was happening and my father was completely fine with it. I could even compliment him if I wanted to. He slowly lowered his arms down and let them come downtown his side as his eyes fell in thought for a moment. “So, can I ask you a question actually?” He said squinting slightly, looking at his glass of wine. I was a bit nervous about what he was going to ask given the last 2 minutes of our conversation. I had already been more honest with him than I had intended to be. What else did he want to know? “Of course, I guess we are being kind of honest with one another at this point, right?” “Exactly, and so that’s why I’m just wondering . . . does it bother you that I’ve gotten so built up lately?” He looked back up at me with a look of genuine concern and curiosity. “Bother me?” I squinted in confusion. “I just wonder if seeing your dad . . . with such large muscles might be a lot for a guy in his 20s. You mentioned that you feel like you should be the one with the ripped body, and yet, it’s me. Does that bother you?” I thought for a moment of how to word my response. “Honestly?” I rolled my lips tightly, I knew I was about to be honest with him, on the one hand it was nerve wracking and on the other hand it felt so liberating. “No.” I said keeping my eyes locked on him, resisting the urge to let them study his arms propping his figure against the table. “I mean, kind of. When I look at you, I start to feel kind of insecure as a guy you know? You have a great body and at 53 you are walking around unafraid to show off all of your gains. Meanwhile I feel self-conscious when I take my shirt off in public or at home for that matter. Despite those feelings though, I look at you and how confident and manly you are. Most guys your age have given up on getting in shape, and instead, you have a body most 20 year olds would kill to have. It’s really strange honestly, but . . . like when we went to the beach a few weeks ago for spring break, and everyone was eyeing you as we walked around. It is almost . . . I don’t know what word to put to it exactly, I’m not even entirely sure what this feeling is. But it’s “cool”, I guess, to see people look at your body. And then I think about it, and for some reason, it doesn’t bother me. You are a doctor, a really smart one at that, and you can go to a beach and rip off your shirt and get all of that attention. You are stronger than me, bigger than me, and that should bother me in a bad way, but . . . I guess . . . I don’t mind.” I began my response with a shaky breath but managed, by the end of it, to have a pretty steady voice. I had been honest with my dad, and it felt like a weight being lifted off of my shoulders. “So, me being stronger, more muscular, that doesn’t bother you?” he asked looking for another confirmation. “No. I like that you are so strong. It’s . . . nice. I look at how big and ripped you are, and I can only imagine how strong you have to be at this point.” I rubbed my nose and sniffed for a second before looking back up at him. “I feel . . .” I paused unable to continue my thought. I wasn’t sure if I could say it. To my surprise though, my dad didn’t interject or ask me to finish my thought. I decided to compromise. “Like alright, right now, seeing you in that tight shirt, flexing your arms, you just look so . . . manly, and strong you know?” “So when I flex or wear tight clothes to show off a little, you are okay with it?” “So you do like to show off?” I asked with a sharp smile. For once I had asked him a question. He opened his mouth and let out a laugh for a second. “You know, after a long day at work, it’s kind of nice to come home and just . . . appreciate the work I’ve put in.” He said carefully. “Well in any case I don’t mind.” I said affirmatively, blushing as I said it. “Good.” He smiled at me pulling his arms away from the table. “I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Regarding something else you said though, I guess on the flip side of what you said. You said you like how strong I am, and how ripped I’ve gotten?” He asked with a straight face, but in a light tone. “Yeah, you just . . . you look good.” “Honestly, I have to tell you, I feel good too.” He stood up straight, as his chest filled the front of his tight shirt. It looked like the fabric could barely contain his large pecs. “I have more energy now than I did in my 20s, I have more endurance throughout the day, I feel more alert. Just, overall, I feel fantastic since I started to workout more. And looking in the mirror at night has gotten a bit easier.” We both laughed, but my laugh was noticeably more nervous than his was. “Yeah you know, after two years of lifting and getting bigger . . . fuck I feel good for 53.” I confessed, oddly seeming like had gotten something off of his chest that he had wanted to say. Very ironic given the situation. “You should, I mean dad, I’m 21 and . . . you are so much stronger than I am.” I admitted allowing a small rush of heat to run through me. “You’re probably stronger than most of the guys at school honestly.” “Thanks.” He laughed and blushed slightly, for the first time seeming shy at one of my compliments. “To that end though . . .” I had already pushed the envelope numerous times and it seemed as though my dad was willing to go along with most of it. I wondered if I could push one more time. “This is kind of weird to ask but, you are clearly really . . . strong. I’ve wondered, what it would it be like to . . . well, arm-wrestle.” I proposed not able to look at him. A small silence fell over the table but after a moment my dad cracked a smile. “You want to arm-wrestle me?” He said in confusion, his tone highlighting his awareness of how much larger than me he was. “We both said, you have gotten really fit lately, I’m just curious how fit you’ve gotten. A more . . . measurable way to gauge it I guess.” “I’m down don’t get me wrong . . . but.” He relaxed his stance slightly, “no offense, but you won’t budge my arm.” “I just want to try.” I rebutted with a slight smile, and a surprisingly casual tone given how on-edge I felt. He paused for a moment and then walked around to my side of the table and pulled out the chair next to me. I put my elbow on the table and arched my hand towards him. My father’s large frame moved forward as he placed his monstrously large arm onto the table. Despite its size and mass, he placed it onto the table quietly and delicately. I was trying to conceal the joy I was feeling in that moment. My fantasies got cut short earlier, but a time or two I have wondered what it would be like to wrestle my dad. I knew he could pin me so easily with his powerful body, and somehow that feeling of emasculation was . . . exhilarating. I scooted myself forward slightly so that we could lock palms. Already his palm felt harder and firmer than mine. I knew what was about to happen. “Are you ready?” He asked trying to hide a cocky smile. “3, 2, 1, go!” With that both of our arms tensed as we applied as much force as we could against the other. That is to say, I applied as much as I could against him. My dad’s arm was barely budging. I squeezed against his palm and tried to force my forearms and biceps to move as much as they could, but my dad’s hand wouldn’t even budge. It was like trying to push against a brick wall. I grunted as I exerted more force. He let out a small chuckle as he avoided eye contact with me. In a way I almost felt awkward. I was arm-wrestling my dad and enjoying every second of it. I couldn’t budge him at all, and somehow that feeling of powerlessness was intoxicating. “Damn you’re strong!” I said trying one last time to budge him. I even lifted my body up slightly to give myself more leverage, but to no avail. Another second or two passed before my dad finally looked at me, his arm still firmly in place. “Dad a bit stronger than you had expected?” He said clearly savoring the moment, but trying not to be too forward about it. Before I could answer his grip tightened and my hand moved backwards until it was flat on the table. With almost no effort he had overpowered me. He released his hand and I pulled mine back. He had won so easily, and was even kind of cocky about it. I couldn’t believe an hour ago I was only thinking about these things, and now, I was living them out. I had taken a chance by asking him, but I had wanted to challenge him to an arm-wrestling match for so long. It is was so satisfying to be able to finally ask him, and feel just how powerful of a grip he had. He was right: he was stronger than I had expected. “You weren’t kidding!” I confessed as I pointed to his right arm. “You really have been hitting it lately.” “I warned you!” He said widening his eyes dramatically. “I have to say though, I’m glad that this doesn’t bother you. Me working out so much could be a bit off-putting I guess, or intimidating, but you really don’t seem to mind, which is a relief I guess. Still I wish you had talked to me sooner. You didn’t need to spend all of this time feeling self-conscious.” “I couldn’t agree more actually. It is a huge relief that . . . I guess that we can talk about it.” My mind started to trail for a minute. I had one last idea. “Exactly. You don’t need to feel bad any of it. It’s a change so I’m glad we are on the same page.” He sat back in the chair for a second while I pondered over my next question. “Well . . . that being the case.” My throat ran dry and my arms started to tremble. I was about to ask him something I had only ever thought about. Something I had wanted to ask willingly for months. My tongue felt like sand paper against the roof of my mouth and my teeth almost started to click from the built up nerves. “If . . .” I nearly choked on my words, but I was able to swallow without making too much of a wince. “If neither of us really care . . . would you mind . . . uhm.” I paused one final time before letting the words leave my lips. “Would you mind taking your shirt off?” The next half second of silence between us felt like an eternity. I had asked the question and there was no coming back from it. As soon as the last syllable left my mouth a certain sobriety seemed to hit me. What the hell was I doing?! I had asked him to take his sweater off already, and then I asked him to arm wrestle?! Suddenly I almost felt like I had come out of a dream and I was just now realizing where I was. In fact, this was the part where I should have snapped out of my day dream. But this was not a day dream like before. I had actually just asked my father to take his shirt off. It almost felt like my entire body had frozen over as I waited, only a half second, for his response. My dad turned his head slightly to the side and looked at me, clearly not expecting that question, but not put off by it either. “You want me to take my shirt off?” He asked more to confirm he had herd correctly, what else would he have heard, and that I wasn’t confused. “Ugh,” my mind was still coming terms with the sudden realization of what I had asked him and I couldn’t formulate my thoughts. His face seemed to lighten as he leaned forward slightly. “You just want to see my abs.” he said letting a smile come across his face. My lucidness hadn’t quite left me yet, so whereas before I had been playing into the moment, I was suddenly feeling a cold feet. I had already been able to see my dad flex his biceps and arm-wrestle him, there was part of me that wanted to back out now before I said anything else that might ruin this. Things were fine now, I should probably leave them. “I mean hey, if me having an 8-pack and a big chest doesn’t bother you . . .” He brought his hand to the bottom of his shirt just as he had his sweater and pulled up on the tight black t-shirt. Less than a second later he had already pulled it over his head and off of his now bare torso. He lowered his arms down and simply let the shirt fall onto the floor next to his chair. “. . . I’d rather have my shirt off anyway.” He finished with a tone of sincerity. He extended his arms so they were parallel with his legs and clenched his fists so that his arms, pecs, abs, and lats all flexed into hardened groups of striated muscles. My father’s bare torso suddenly seemed to swell up. His forearms and biceps expanded, causing his veins to become even more apparent than they had been before. His chest tightened into two large, rounded mounds, save for a dent that formed at the edge of each of his chest muscles. His nipples were hard and pointed, fitting for his hard and masculine looking pecs. His 8 pack was on full display, with the lines that separated his abs carving out each one. For as pumped and rounded as his chest was, that was how flat and cut his abs were. The amazing thing was, like I had explained before, my dad wasn’t just fit. He had the body of a full on bodybuilder. His entire body was covered in striated groups of hard muscles that grew as he flexed them. No wonder I had lost with such ease against him, he looked so dominant and powerful. He didn’t just look powerful though, he was. Watching him flex was even more mesmerizing than I had expected. He brought his eyes away from his tensed muscles and back to me, but I didn’t’ even stop looking, how could I? “You liking the gains?” He said in an exaggerated bro voice. “Damn, I honestly don’t think I’ve seen somebody that cut in real-life before.” I confessed taken in by his show of manliness. “Yeah your dad didn’t used to have abs like these did he?” He flattened his stomach and ran his hand over his shredded abs before lowering both hands down towards his belt. He started to bounce his large pecs. Now on some men this would just cause their chest to move slightly. But on my dad, his entire chest seemed to lift up and fall back into place. The entire muscle rippled as he bounced them in sequence. He sat up in the chair as he did, his pecs continued to flex and release, all the while his abs were still visible. Watching my dad bounce his pecs shirtless in front of me, seeing his tanned, sculpted body, I felt a striking, but wonderful, feeling of emasculation. I should be the one with the large muscles and cocky attitude, but instead it was him. My dad was hotter than I was without question. “Damn.” I muttered outload looking at his pecs move. “Oh sorry.” He leaned back in the chair and rose his arms so that his hands were on the back of his head. From there he flexed his arms, abs, and lats. Reclining back, my dad’s arms and torso flexed with testosterone pumped muscles. He lowered his head slightly, but never broke eye contact with me as he flexed his impressive arms. “You probably aren’t used to a man flexing his muscles like this are you?” “Honestly no.” I said with a shaky breath trying to control my breathing and racing heart. Even more than before my hesitation had become more apparent, and I could tell that he was thinking over something in his head. Through all of this, I have to admit, I was surprised at how calm my dad had been. “Tell you what,” He looked down at his socks, but his tone indicated that he had reached a conclusion. “You said this has been weighing on your mind for a while so I can imagine this has been a bit much for you.” He slowly stood up, allowing his body to flow out of the chair in a fluid motion that allowed his various muscle groups to flex and release. “One second we’re just eating dinner and the next, your dad is taking his shirt off to flex. To that end though, seriously don’t feel bad, if you want to check out my gains, go for it.” My eyes came to my dad’s belt and rested there for a moment. His jeans were tight against his built legs, but offered a stark contrast that only enhanced his masculine beauty. His legs and feet were covered, leaving a certain mystery to his body. In contrast, his torso was exposed, powerful, and undeniably strong. Somehow his casualness mixed with his bare chest emphasized his masculine authority. “I’m just happy that you are so, understanding, I guess is the word.” I admitted. “I suppose, but to be honest, I’ve seen you trying to sneak some glances so it’s not a total shock.” He said somewhat matter of factly lifting his eyebrows and scrunching his lips. “You’ve just really made a crazy transformation. It’s hard not to look sometimes. Even compared to the guys I see at our campus gym who are in college, you have a killer physique.” “Not to be conceited or anything, but it is nice sometimes knowing that you can outlift some of the younger guys. Guys in the gym are always surprised to find out how old I am, it’s a big compliment. Especially at my age, it’s a pretty great feeling to still have energy and confidence.” He blushed slightly and adjusted his weight. “I can imagine.” I widened my eyes and looked up at him. “You have to be insanely strong at this point. Your arms are the size of my legs.” I joked trying to slip a sly compliment. “Yeah I mean when I train I try not to just go for aesthetics. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy looking like this, but I also want to have the strength and utility that goes along with it.” “Trust me, I could tell when we arm-wrestled. It was like trying to move a brick wall.” “See! This isn’t all just for looks.” With that he flexed his right arm up making bicep swell up with definition and size. “It doesn’t look bad though.” I responded to his casual flexing. In that moment I couldn’t help but wonder. How strong had he gotten? How hard did his beautiful body feel? We seemed to be having a pretty open exchange, and my resolve had long been worn down. I was still too nervous to ask him what I had always wanted to, especially given how intimidating his body looked as he flexed. But he had already taken his shirt off and humiliated me in an arm-wrestling match, and seeing his half-naked muscular body was overwhelming my thoughts. I didn’t want to ask too much too quickly, which realistically we had long since passed. We passed that as soon as I asked my dad to take his sweater off. And yet, I wanted to feel just how powerful he was. How masculine had my now pumped father become? Seeing him look so manly was oddly intoxicating. I couldn’t resist how euphoric it felt to be submitted so easily. “I didn’t think you’d be so comfortable begin shirtless.” I confessed. “After a long day of working, and then working out before I come home, trust me, I’m ready to get rid of these clothes. So if you’d rather I walk around shirtless all the time, just get used to your old man with an 8-pack.” He paused for a second, looking to the side. “Along that line, not going to lie, I’d really rather not have these socks on all the time either.” My entire body trembled slightly, and my curiosity began to spike at the thought of what he might be alluding to. “Since I took my shirt off and arm-wrestled, I don’t suppose you’d mind paying me back with a foot massage?” The thought of being able to touch my dads feet gave me a feeling of excitement I almost struggled to hide. On top of his powerful, and muscular body, I couldn’t’ help but sometimes take a glance at his feet. “Yeah, I could do that.” I offered unable to restrain a small smirk. “Alright then.” He said with a hint of excitement, almost what one would hear if they had closed a business deal they had had to work towards getting. He moved his body, and extended his leg so that his right foot was now on my leg. His black sock was a stark contrast to his slate blue jeans. I nervously brought my hand to his foot and begin to apply pressure. I looked up slightly, and in my peripheral vision I could see my father’s bare torso, 8-pack, nipples, veins, biceps, and all. I dug my fingers into his dry socks. A faint aroma came across my nose. I continued to rub his right foot, working my way from his hard heel to his soft toes. I allowed my fingers to rub in between his toes against the fabric of his socks. “You said you wanted your socks off right?” I asked looking up for permission. “Yeah you can go ahead and take them off.” He permitted allowing his arms to fall to his side relaxing. I did as I was told and moved my hand up his leg to grasp the edge of the sock and I pulled it down his shaven leg and across his ankle before peeling it away from his foot. Part of the sock was a little damp against my skin. I dropped it onto the floor and continued to rub my fingers against his now bare foot. My dad’s bare foot contrasted even more against his jeans, and consequently against his exposed upper body, giving him a masculine appearance I couldn’t resist. I won’t lie, my dad shirtless and in jeans was one of the hottest things I had ever seen. I had seen him a time or two before, come out from his room in just his jeans and cook dinner. I could barely resist looking at his pecs and abs as he cooked, occasionally looking down at his exposed masculine feet. My dad shaved, likely to better see his muscles, but his feet still had hair on top, which I could feel as my fingers brushed against it. I never thought I would be giving a foot message to my shirtless father, but it was happening. I continued to rub his right foot for another minute or so before he raised up his left foot and had me repeat the process. The entire situation almost became too much for me. I was rubbing his soft, firm feet, taking glances at his body. I tried to be in the moment, and focus on the tips of my fingers as they dug against the soft part of his foot. He leaned his head back and seemed to immerse himself in the sensation of my hands rubbing against his feet. “You give one hell of a foot message.” He said with slight surprise. “If I had only known me being shirtless was the price for it.” He chuckled to himself. He opened his eyes slowly and thought for a moment before lowering his head back to look at me. I instinctively looked back down at his pants and then to my hands. I brought the entirety of his toes into my hand. “So, what do you think?” “About what exactly?” I asked applying more pressure, partially because I was nervous and didn’t know how to respond. “You know, this. At 52 your dad is a doctor and is shirtless with the body of a man your age. Do you feel okay?” He asked with the same concern he had shown earlier when I first brought all of this up. “I mean seeing you like this . . . just your bare feet and no shirt, it’s . . . pretty intimidating honestly. But cool. You look really,” I swallowed hard on just air, my mouth was too dry from my nerves. “manly.” “I kind of get the idea that you like that.” He said ironically laughing to himself. It seemed to break the tension a little and I couldn’t help but match his laugh. Even with just a simple laugh, I somehow felt better. It was almost as though he was acknowledging what I was too afraid to say. We were coming to a mutual understanding. “So what is it about my,” he looked for the right word for a moment, “masculinity that you like so much?” I asked in almost a base filled whisper. I paused rubbing his foot to reflect for a moment. I already knew the answer to his question, I had been asking and answering that same question for months. Ever since the first time he had taken his shirt of in front of me. I allowed my fingers to lightly caress down from his big toe to his heel as I spoke. “I guess . . . truthfully, it’s just cool to see an older guy have such a strong and youthful physique. On top of that you are a doctor, you are really fucking smart, and you still have the muscles of a professional athlete. It’s . . . exhilarating to see you like this. That said though, and to your point, it is intimidating. You are smarter than me and, I’m sitting here rubbing your feet knowing full well, you could totally overpower me with your body.” I laughed looking down as my finger reached the tip of his foot before putting my fingers back around his toes and stroking them. “Not that you would necessarily,” I began, allowing myself to be bolder than perhaps I should, “but if I had refused to rub your feet. And to be clear I wouldn’t because,” I put my fingers between his toes and squeezed them. “You have nice feet, you could have just . . . I don’t know . . .” “Overpowered you?” He said clearly. “Exactly.” I finally looked up and met his gaze. By now my body had released too many rushes of adrenalin, and I just felt in a constant state of heat and energy. But as I looked at his eyes, the energy seemed to become more focused. It wasn’t as wild and sporadic, it felt oddly calm. “I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong, after that arm-wrestling match, we both know,” my father struck a double bicep pose as I held his foot in my hands. “You might be younger, but daddy has the muscles.” Almost by reflex I audibly gulped as I saw his body become hard and striated. He lowered his defined and dry muscles down and looked back at me with a coy smile. “That does make me think though.” He folded his arms over. I don’t even need to explain to you how unbelievably attractive that was. I’m sure I already have. He adjusted himself slightly in the chair as I rubbed his foot slowly. “if you enjoy seeing me be so masculine . . . is this all you want? Or do you maybe want more?” He looked at me and suddenly this situation seemed much more communicative and official than it had a few moments ago. “More? As in . . .” My mind had already gone a thousand different directions, most of them to places I was too afraid to verbalize. “Well let’s start simple. I’m shirtless. Not to be too cocky, but . . . I’ve worked hard to get the results I have, I know I look good. So when I’m shirtless, sometimes I like to show off a bit.” I took a deep breath in. “So, I can put my shirt back on or . . . I could flex a little.” He sat up without breaking his gaze, lowering his foot from my hand. “I assume that would be okay with you?” “Of course.” I affirmed. He rubbed his hands together. “I don’t want to do too much though, are you sure that wouldn’t be too much?” He said lowering his voice. I starred at him for a moment, looking at my dad in just his feet, jeans, and naked torso. “No!” I calmly objected. “No . . . could you . . . flex your muscles?” I asked nervously. “Are you just afraid to say no because of my biceps?” He flashed a sultry smile. “You don’t have to be nervous . . . and besides, if watching your shirtless dad flex isn’t too much . . .” He stood up, causing his powerful body to tower over me. His pants were level with my face, and I couldn’t help but feel emasculated at the thought of what might be underneath. “We can still wrestle later.” I looked up at my dad, shirtless, barefoot, the most imposing I had ever seen him. All of the previous times I had seen him, even when he was just in his tight boxers, he was showing off his body but somewhat involuntarily. This time he knew I wanted to see more. I could almost feel his energy, his dominance. “So after all of this time, you finally have your dad shirtless in front of you. I still think it’s funny how you could have just asked me to take my shirt off and flex for you.” He held his vascular arms out to his side and flexed them in front of me while tensing his pecs and abs at the same time. My father’s entire torso was now flexed with vascular, masculine power. “And at least this time you don’t have to be afraid of looking.” He clarified calmly as he looked down at his arms, watching the veins erupt from his forearms and biceps. My father had the physique of a bodybuilder, there was no question given the size and definition of his arms. He changed his flex into a most muscular, flexing one arm at a time and putting them up to my face. He brought his left bicep to my face and flexed and unflexed it causing the large ball of muscle to drop and become firm in succession. It was mesmerizing to watch his arm shift. “Damn.” I breathed out. “Yeah that’s pretty awesome isn’t it?” He marveled at his own body. “Men half my age don’t have biceps this big.” He stood straight and then spun around on his foot to show his back to me. He put his left hand at a 180 angle with his body, putting his hand on his head, and then put his right arm at a 95 angle to flex his entire backside. Watching his back erupt with muscular definition made me feel the smallest I had ever felt in front of another man. So many muscles came into view my eyes didn’t even know where to begin admiring. Despite the sensory overload, I still processed how firm and full my dad’s jeans were. His ass was firm and filled the back of the jeans, leading down to his thick legs, and back down to his arched foot. I wanted to compliment him, but my mind had gone blank. My words seemed to be in a hazy scramble somewhere in the back of my mind. “I know you usually check my pecs and biceps, but you have to admit, my backs shredded.” He said turning his head across his arm. For the first time, since he had started lifting, I was starting to see a cockier side of my dad that I wasn’t used to. But it didn’t bother me. Despite my inability to form a coherent thought, I somehow managed to verbalize that last though, almost by instinct. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen or heard you so confident.” I quickly added, “I like it though! It’s cool to see you so confident and . . . powerful.” He pulled his left arm over so that he was no striking a back double bicep. “Well, when men half your age use words like intimidating and powerful to describe you,” he dropped his arms down and turned back towards me, this time flexing his biceps. “I admit it’s a bit hard not to get an ego boost.” He let me look over his biceps before dropping them. He moved his weight back slightly, extending his left leg for support. “It’s interesting though. You seem a little bit conflicted.” “How’s that?” I asked raising an eyebrow at his remark. “You say that my body is powerful and intimidating, and yet you’ve been trying to sneak peaks at me for months. You know I could overpower you, you know how much stronger I am than you, and something about that just drives you crazy doesn’t it?” “It is conflicting I suppose. But like I’ve said, I like it. It’s a bit scary thinking that your dad has the body of a college bodybuilder, but . . . it’s nice. I like that you are the man of the house.” At the end of my last compliment my dad’s face seemed to light up. He thought for a moment before speaking. “Good. I’m glad you like it.” He bounced his large, hard pecs. “And all the better that we agree who the man is here. “When you bounce your chest like that trust me, it’s clear.” I sat up a bit in the chair. “So,” I swallowed with shocking control. “I am a bit curious . . . could you take your pants off?” My body mustered up enough energy to send heat back through my body for the first time in quite a while. I was being bold, but somehow I knew he wouldn’t mind. If anything, I figured we were already this far in, how much bolder could I really get. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” My dad seemed to be an expert at asking these kinds of questions in such a caring manner despite probably wanting to take them off anyway. “Yeah. Whenever your just in your boxers, you seem so . . . manly.” “Do you want me to just be in my boxers?” He asked in a rasp. I paused for a moment. “Is that okay?” I looked over his pants. “Totally, I’d rather be in my boxers anyway. The real question is though,” he put his hand onto his hips and spread his legs slightly. “How emasculated do you want to feel while you take them off of me?” My eyes shot up to meet his. “You want me to take them off?” “If you think you can handle that.” He lowered his arms back to his side and stepped forward until his body was over my legs. I was sitting, but his body was towering over mine. My face, my lips, were only centimeters away from his abs. He stayed there for a moment, I could smell his cologne radiating from his incredible body. I had never been so close to a man, my body was nearly short-circuiting. “If you want to see me in my boxers, you’ll have to take off my belt first.” He whispered. Doing as he instructed I pulled my hands up and placed them around his belt. My hands were so close. So close to what I was honestly most intimidated of. A complete and undeniable reminder of just how much more of a man he is than me. I let my hands grasp around the black leather before undoing his buckle. My dad remained stationary as I unfastened his belt, my heartbeat picking up with each movement I made. The belt separated, and I began to pull it through his jean loops. Just as the belt came through the final loop my dad reached for it. “I can take that.” He pulled it through the last loop and let it drop onto the floor next to him without paying attention to where he dropped it. His gaze was locked on me. I paused for a moment unsure of how to proceed. In all these months of wondering what it would be like to see my dad take his clothes off and flex, I never once considered that he would let me take his clothes off. “So I can just . . .” “Yeah it’s all you. If you want me in my boxers you have to take my jeans off.” I moment of lucidity seemed to come across me and I couldn’t help but wonder out loud. “Why are you letting me take them off?” He raised his eyebrows quickly in amusement. “You enjoy feeling small compared to me right?” He asked bluntly. “. . . yeah.” “Well by the same token I like showing off a bit. So making you take my pants off for me is kind of fun. I’m going to make you earn this.” He crossed his arms over. “Your making it difficult to concentrate.” I breathed. “I know.” He smirked flexing his crossed arms and pecs. The sides of his pecs rolled up and formed a crease at the side as his forearms, shoulders, and biceps showed their lines of striations. Back to the task at hand, I raised my arm up and first undid the button of his jeans. I pushed the meal through the slit, allowing his jeans to pop open at the top. The veins along his lower abs suddenly became more visible, disappearing below his beltline. I brought my hand down slightly and put my index finger and thumb against his silver zipper. I was really about to do this. I breathed in, subtly, as I began to unzip my dads pants. The zipper came down without much resistance, but I couldn’t help but notice a slight outward curve to his jeans as I unzipped them. Finally it reached the bottom and my dad’s black boxers were in view. Wanting to savor this moment I rose my fingers ack to his beltline but kept them there for a second. His quads and calves were outlined in his jeans, they were slim cut, and his boxers were showing. I couldn’t believe he was letting me do this, but I wasn’t about to question it. A beautiful, smart man was asking me to take his pants off. I began to pull down and watched as my dad’s boxers and legs slowly came into view as I peeled the jeans off. Once I got down to his quads it became much harder to pull them off. His legs were too large, it was like pulling leather off of someone. After a brief struggle, and a few tugs, the jeans were at my dads feet. To pull them off I had to get onto the floor on my knees and pull them out from under his feet as he raised them. I put them off to the side before looking up at my now nearly naked muscular father in complete awe of what I was seeing. I had seen my dad in his underwear before, but I had never see him look so beautiful or dominate. I had never seen any man look that beautiful or dominate for that matter. His quads and calves were both covered in veins and striations, only further accentuated by their incredible size. As I looked over his legs he tensed them causing his quads to flare out and his calves to raise up into hardened spheres. I looked down at his hairy feet and allowed my eyes to slowly travel up his shaven, vascular, thick legs. The striations in his quads were captivatingly defined. With his arms still crossed it was as though my dad was flexing his entire body. “Fuck. Your legs are insane.” It took everything in me not to rub my hands along his large legs. I was so taken aback that I had almost forgotten to take my eyes further. Realizing this, by instinct, I raised my eyes up and stopped at his boxers. Even in black, a concealing color, they looked filled. My father’s underwear left little to the imagination, and it was even more overwhelming than the rest of him. His boxers were lowcut, but on the top and bottom, and were not particularly spacious. I could actually see a vague outline of what was lying underneath. “Enjoying the view?” He shattered my focus and I quickly blinked back to my already impaired senses, embarrassed that I starred let alone even looked. “Oh . . . umm” I had watched him take his shirt off, flex, I rubbed his feet, and even took off his pants, but that still felt like a step too far. “Daddy a little more intimidating now?” He bent his right leg and extended his right arm out to flex his arms. He flexed his right arm, abs, and right thigh, arching his foot to flex his calf. He grunted as he reached the peak of his pose. Seeing my father nearly naked, flexing his muscles, in just his filled boxers . . . I couldn’t handle it anymore. “You umm . . .” He shifted his pose to flex his legs and upper body but putting his arms down along his sides and then moving them into a front double bicep. My words were lost and all I could do was watch. Next he lifted up the back of his underwear to revel his muscled ass before turning to the side and doing a squatted quad and bicep pose. The side and bottom of his leg became shredded, and his glutes seemed to flex in ways I didn’t even know they could. “How about one more?” He offered. My dad had a funny way of saying things so calmly, even though he had to have known how much this was getting to me. He really did enjoy showing off apparently. He turned his back to me and struck a back double bicep. Seeing his bare glutes was incredible. In all the times he had been in his underwear I had never actually seen his ass. But now in front of me, my dad’s ass was tight, large, cut, and flexed. I had never seen a man with such a powerful and firm back, mixed with his exposed ass, I couldn’t resist letting out. “Fuck.” I breathed as I rolled my lips together, the tension building in my body from seeing my father in such a dominant and masculine way. He slowly turned back around. “Now that I think about it this is probably the first time you’ve ever seen my ass. What do you think?” He raised an eyebrow with his question. “Your entire body is, perfect. I mean seriously you’re . . .” I bent my head slightly. My dad opened his mouth to release one of his cute laughs. “You know you can go ahead and say it right?” Obviously too nervous he went ahead. “Do you think I’m hot?” I took a deep breathe and finally after months of bottling up what I was feeling I allowed my tension to pour out. “Yeah. Honestly, yes.” “See you can be honest. I mean dude, I’m flexing my bare ass I front of you.” He let a second pass by. “No, totally, seeing you pose like this. You’re hot. And . . .” I decided to follow his train of thought and be honest. “If you are really okay with me being open and honest. Could I maybe . . . feel your muscles? You’ve been flexing and it is getting hard to just sit here and watch.” I said clearly and articulately. “Tell you what.” He responded quicker than I thought he would. “I think a full body message might be kind of nice actually.” I smiled at his comment but he quickly raised a finger, turning my joy into confusion and almost agitation. “But first . . .” He looked up putting his words together before speaking. “I don’t suppose you’d want to wrestle a little bit would you?” My face froze over immediately conveying my approval. “I can stay in my underwear.” He offered. The only thing that could have possibly been better than feeling my dad’s hard muscles, would be if he used them. This set off a very strange split feeling in me. The idea of being able to wrestle with my dad, feeling his weight and power on me, was beyond incredible. I wanted to feel that. Though there was still a small part of me that was almost . . . afraid. How bad would this hurt? I was certainly no match for my father. “Wrestling could be fun actually.” I smiled nervously as I stood up and looked at him, awaiting a cue. “Where are you feeling?” I allowed my excitement to bubble up slightly, easing my nerves in the process. In the end, my nervousness was stemming from excitement. I had been waiting so long to see my dad like this, and to be able to feel his body against mine, I couldn’t help but tremble with anticipation. “The living room might be a little cramped. I have an idea though.” He turned away from me, flicking his wrist indicating for me to follow him. He walked around the table, through he living room and kitchen area and then back towards his room. There were only two rooms down that hall: the study, and his room. I knew for a fact there wasn’t enough room in the study, or at least not anymore than there would have been in the living room. That left only one option. His room. 32 1 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
OldFashioned Posted September 29, 2021 Share Posted September 29, 2021 Incredible. Thank you. So. Much. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted September 29, 2021 Share Posted September 29, 2021 Fuck. Amazing. The power the man has over his son is exhilarating and i ahve afeeling eh knows exactly what he is doing. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Spandexmuscle Posted September 29, 2021 Share Posted September 29, 2021 This is awesome! Would love to see dad put on a singlet to wrestle in Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ploder4 Posted September 29, 2021 Share Posted September 29, 2021 Sounds like the son might want to see and encourage his dad to get even bigger. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted October 3, 2021 Share Posted October 3, 2021 Saw this one and this story came up to me https://twitter.com/GymStallions/status/1444468336167821316?s=20 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted October 3, 2021 Share Posted October 3, 2021 Saw this one and this story came up to me https://twitter.com/GymStallions/status/1444468336167821316?s=20 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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