The cool morning breeze hit my cheeks as I sprinted through the desolate streets of my town, which would’ve been packed with people and vehicles if I’d been there at noon instead of dawn.

My heart was racing with the effort, and sweat was glistening on my face like jewels. My muscles were straining, but I kept pushing on. That was when I rounded a curb and ran straight into someone racing toward me from the other side.

“Ow!” I yelped as I hit the road, and the figure landed on top of me.

I was greeted by the wrinkly face of a man nearing the dusk of his life.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a deep fatherly voice, “Are you Ok?”

“I guess you could get off me first...” I said, referring to his hands squeezing my manboobs over my hoodie.

“Oh, sorry...” He blushed as he hastily got up to his feet and offered me a hand.

I took his hand and pulled myself up. He was almost 60, with a few strands of white hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a jacket and running tights.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“I’m okay, I guess. What about you?”

He simply nodded and eyed me up and down. I noticed that he was looking at my grey hoodie, which had become dirty from the road’s dirt. We stood there awkwardly before he introduced himself.

“Bob...” He extended a hand.

“Callum...”

We shook hands.

After a few more mutual apologies, we started walking together and talking about ourselves. Basic stuff- education, family, hobbies, etc.

I learned that he was a manager at a local bank and had a family.

“My grandsons your age...” he chuckled.

“How old is he?” I asked.

“Fourteen...”

“I just turned eighteen...”

“Really? You look younger to me,” he said.

I blushed at his comment. “Thank you,” I said.

“A young, good-looking guy like you must be getting pussy all the time,” he said with a leer. When I didn’t respond, he hastily added, “Sorry, that was a bit too crude and personal.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “But sadly, girls don’t find me attractive cos I’m overweight.”

He chuckled. “So, instead of getting pussy you must just sit around with your pants at your ankles jerking it off all the time, right? You can tell me,” he said with a chuckle, slowly pantomiming the jerk off motion. “I was your age once.”

I was mesmerized by the motion of my hand and felt movement in my crotch. I was getting a little chubbed up from the lewd talk.

“Yeah, I bet you’re a big-time masturbator. A real pornosexual. A gooner,” he growled, still making the obscene gesture at me.

“A bit. Not too much,” I admitted bashfully.

Although he was getting a bit too nosy, I was kind of enjoying the attention, which no one at school had ever spared me.

“Girls these days have too high expectations of guys. They want them to be all handsome, rich, and have huge dongs the size of fucking horse’s cock. They don’t appreciate your average Joe anymore. The ‘little’ guy, like you,” he said, looking at my groin. “Yeah, the real little guy,” he chuckled.

There was an awkward silence in the air, but we continued walking.

“So? Are you exercising to get girls?” he asked.

“That’s one of the reasons, yes,” I said, almost whispering.

“Is this your first day?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been jogging on these streets at this time daily for over four years. It’s a refreshing experience, but unfortunately, I don’t get company.”

“Well, we could jog together from tomorrow,” I suggested.

“Good idea,” he said, and smirked.

Over the next few months, we got to know each other much better and developed a strong friendship. Bob started referring to me as ‘Cal,’ my nickname. He visited my home a couple of times after jogging for a cup of tea. I lived in an apartment near my college that my parents paid for. I had only lived there for a month. During these winter months, our relationship remained entirely platonic, despite occasional instances of inappropriateness.

He did make the occasional remark about my blond hair and how he thought I had a cute bubble butt, saying it looked like a girl’s bottom. Through our conversations, I concluded that he was very devoted to his family. Gradually, the winter was coming to an end, and I found it hard to jog in my fleecy hoodie, so I decided that it was time to break out my summer attire.

I thought that it would be a good surprise for Bob, and I wanted to see how he would react as I had lost a bit of weight. I decided to go with a white sleeveless tank top and black baggy shorts, which ended just above my knees. My perception of Bob was about to change that day. As usual, I jogged to our meeting spot and waited for him there. Soon enough, I saw his silhouette approaching me and pretended not to be aware of his arrival.

“Change in attire?” he said as he stopped next to me.

“Change in the weather,” I replied.

“You’re right, he said, wiping sweat off his brow as he opened the zip of his jacket, revealing a T-shirt beneath. “Better,” he said and smiled.

We jogged as usual, and I was far more comfortable today because of the change in clothing. Even then, I was sweating profusely after the jog, and my white top was translucent due to being drenched. Unfortunately, the translucent white material showed off my sizable manboobs, and I caught old Bob stealing glances at them. They do look like women’s tits, to be honest. Something I’ve always been embarrassed about.

While walking me to my apartment, I noticed him stealing glances at my legs as well, which I’d waxed the day prior. That is my thing. I am bald from my neck down, and I like how it feels.

“Nice legs, Cal,” he said, trying to sound polite.

“Why do you think so?”

“They’re nicely toned and...”

“And?”

“They seem very smooth...”

“You like smooth legs?”

“I like groomed men who remove all their body hair...”

I don’t know why, but this conversation was slightly arousing me.

“I can assure you, I am bald all over,” I said, my voice growing a bit huskier.

“I’d like to see that,” he said, hesitating slightly.

I lifted my tank top above my head, flashing him my girlish manboobs, and we stopped walking.

“Wow, you really are smooth as a baby.” His eyes drank in my man tits and large areolas and nipples. They really do look like women’s tits, and while I would normally be reluctant to show them around other guys, I felt comfortable with Bob. “I love your fair skin tone,” he said. “But are you really smooth everywhere?”

“Everywhere,” I said as I lowered my tank top, and we continued walking until we reached my apartment building.

“I have some cold soda inside,” I said.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he said.

After I entered my apartment, I felt very horny recollecting his recent behavior. Commenting on my smooth legs and inquiring about whether I was bald all over was something I hadn’t expected from him. There was no love in my life, and so an old man ogling me was turning me on instead of disgusting me. I jerked off that night as I fantasized about showing Bob the ‘everywhere’ he wanted to see.

Of course, that wasn’t going to happen. But I did decide to make a couple of changes. I decided to wear something a bit more revealing.

I decided to go with a white tank top that was a bit tight on me, which really showed my manboobs off. The thin fabric was straining to contain them. I also decided on tight black shorts, which exposed my thighs and knees, and stuck to my legs and groin. I didn’t wear any underpants.

Although I’d lost some weight over these months, I had a naturally chubby build, which I had come to accept and admire. I also appreciated how my manboobs stayed the same size regardless of how much weight I lost. I could wear a B-cup bra on these puppies.

As I greeted him the next day, he stared at me for a good ten seconds and didn’t even greet me.

“Are you alright, Bob?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, still in a trance-like state, “You’re looking good, Cal.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Even though he had changed into his summer attire, which consisted of a T-shirt and shorts, I was noticing the large bulge in his shorts. I had never noticed a guy’s bulge like this. Never assessed it, never thought of the size and heft of another man’s genitals. Never found myself powerless to tear my eyes away.

He scratched and handled it gratuitously, pawing at it. It almost felt like he was shaking it at me. My throat went dry. Despite myself, I visualized Bob’s cock, imagined what it must look like. How long and thick it must have been when freed from those shorts, vein-covered, surely full-bushed. How low it must have hung. I could only speculate how big it must get hard if it was so impressive when soft.

For a few more moments, I openly stared at Bob’s groin. As he slowly pawed at it, making as if he was adjusting it in his shorts and showing off its heft, my eyes remained locked. I felt helpless, as if I were in a dream. He widened his stance just a bit, opening his hairy thighs up to give him more space to rearrange his big balls. I heard him softly chuckle. Finally, I forced myself to avert my gaze, chiding myself for checking out another guy’s package.

‘What’s wrong with me? I’m not gay!’ I wondered.

Bob wasn’t focused on his pace as he usually was, and he got tired easily today. We soon started walking again.

“Tired already?” I asked.

“You’ve knocked the breath out of me,” he said jokingly.

“Sorry,” I chuckled and raised my arms above my head, pretending to fix my hair. He started staring at my manboobs. I turned my head toward him and smiled. Normally, he’d steal side glances, but today he was staring intently.

“Are you really bald everywhere?” he asked, licking his lips.

“Yes, everywhere, like a little boy,” I said, encouraging him to make further remarks which were turning me on.

“I bet your pecker is just like a little boy’s, too,” he said and laughed.

Before I could respond, my apartment came into view.

“Care to join me for a cold soda?”

“Yes, please.”

I liked how I was arousing him. Like an obedient pup, he followed me into my apartment. My apartment had a small living room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a single bathroom. He sat on a sofa while I poured two glasses of orange soda with ice. I sat down next to him and we started chatting. Casually, he brought up the topic of my clothes.