you spied him at the counter at the crowded coffee shop, near your metro stop. You had seen him before but today he caught your eye. He was young enough to be your one of your children, younger even. You loved to cruise for unattached boys in the city on your way to work, far from your settled suburban life an hourâs train ride away. You decided to have him right there. His little ass was looking particularly fetching today, a juicy little peach. His tousled hair under a ball cap, sweet full lips that youâd enjoy kissing before pushing him down to his knees so they could engulf your manhood. It was usually the same. Once these twee little faggots got a feel of your cock, they couldnât wait to stiffen you up with their lips, then turn around submissively to get their gay little bottoms fucked. And how you loved doing it. Did that make you gay too? Bi certainly, but you still enjoyed your wifeâs pussy too whenever you were allowed between her creamy thighs. She didnât like anal though and rarely would suck your cock. These days it was mostly a weekly chore to let you lay on top of her and hammer away in her pussy until you came. Youâd rather just dial up some porn on your phone and jerk yourself off in the guest bedroom. So the thrill of the chase in the city for these young twinkly boys, well that was something special. A nice distraction. You jolted yourself out of your daydream and began your pursuit. It was three deep at the service end of the coffee counter line. You squeezed in right behind him. As the barista called name after name, anxious, time-strapped commuters pressed in to pick up drinks in paper to-go cups and warmed pastries in little bags, a little green mermaid emblazoning them. You pushed the front of your jeans up against the hungry little bottom, so fetching in his skin-tight jeans. âSorry,â you whisper over his shoulder right in his ear, then you hovered a second too long, breathing in his ear, as you reached around him for your hot drink, your free hand cupping his left buttcheek almost imperceptibly. He turned around and glared at you, obviously not unaccustomed to an urban assault on his person. Then you turned it on. You gave him your patented, million-dollar smile, the one that had been melting hearts and minds of men and women both since you were a teenager, the one you used with your frat-boy charm to separate your wifeâs panties from her pretty bottom the first time. âSorry,â you said again, almost silently. You could see him relax and an inquisitive look play across his face. The crowd was crushed around you, providing anonymity, ironically enough. As he turned away from the counter, his own drink in hand, he almost ran smack into you. âNow itâs my turn to say Iâm sorry,â he said as he smiled back, âWant to get out of here?â It hung in the air for a second, this unanswered possibility. âDaddy?,â he whispered in your ear, almost as an afterthought, breathily. You could feel the gay submissiveness coming off of him in waves. This had happened to you countless times before, the point at which these young boys, men actually, but you still thought of them as boys, the point at which they unconsciously gave themselves to you. You could picture him already, on his bed in his grungy, nearby apartment. Down on his hands and knees on his mattress on the floor in the small bedroom, his back arched, dark rosebud spread open and lubed, stretching suggestively, ready to accept your large, erect penis in the tight, waiting anus. âDaddy, say yesâ