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By *airylad OP Man
3 weeks ago
Hertfordshire |
That evening, I head out to dinner with the parents. I’ve got on some short chino shorts, sandals, and a linen shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show off the slightly red, hairy chest I’ve managed to develop on day one. It’s not quite a tan yet, but it’ll do. I’m feeling good.
After the meal, we head back to the hotel bar. It’s a small place, with most of the tables out on the terrace, right next to the pool. I manage to bag a spot in the corner while Mum and Dad head up to the bar to get drinks.
I sit down, take in the view, and glance around. It only takes a second before I spot him. My sunbed neighbor. The one whose bulge has been on my mind today.
He looks up, notices me at the same time, and his lips twitch into a smile. “Hey again. How’s your first day been?”
“All good, thanks… bit red, as you can see,” I reply, casually tugging one side of my shirt further open, letting it slide off just enough to give him a better view of my hairy chest and possibly a nipple.
“I certainly can see,” he says, that smirk back in place. He has a playful look in his eyes says he’s enjoying every second of this.
I take him in. He’s wearing flip-flops, nice cargo-style shorts that do a great job framing his thick legs, and a printed shirt with a couple of buttons undone. He’s definitely got that weathered, lived-in look, tanned, handsome in a way that makes you want to keep looking. Late 50s, I’d guess.
“Flying solo this evening?” I ask, leaning back a little, not taking my eyes off him.
“The wife’s had too much sun today… or maybe one too many drinks,” he replies with a wry grin. “She’s sleeping it off.”
“Ah, I see…” I nod, letting my eyes drift back to my empty table. Mum and Dad are perched at the bar, deep in conversation with a few other couples and the owners. My drink’s still sitting in front of them. “Not going to make me drink alone, are you?” he asks, motioning toward my table.
“Erm…” I glance back at Mum and Dad. They’re lost in their own world. “Of course not…” I stand, grab my drink from the bar, barely even noticed by them.
As I head back, I make a split-second decision. Instead of sitting at my table, I slide into the seat across from him.
He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “So, young man,” he begins, settling in, “how does it feel being the youngest and possibly the only man with hair on his head at this resort?”
I laugh, leaning forward just a little. “Well, I did think it was going to be a dull crowd, but I can see that not all older bald men are too bad.”
He laughs, his eyes twinkling. “Haha… I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He shifts in his seat, sitting up straighter, and extends his legs, making a point to rest his feet just inches from mine, his flip-flops off now and resting his heels on them.
“You should,” I reply, a little teasing. “It was meant as one.”
He gives me that smirk again, leaning in just a little. “So how old do you have to be to still get a free holiday from your parents, then?”
“Well, probably younger than me,” I say, glancing back at my parents briefly, “but I’ve pushed my luck as a 22-year-old and managed it.” I grin. “And how old do you have to be to be the youngest old bald man in this resort?”
He laughs. “Ha… cheek. 62, actually.”
I blink, genuinely surprised. “Well, fuck me…” I say, leaning back a little, studying him with fresh eyes. “You’re looking great there.”
He lets out a deep, amused chuckle. “Was that an invitation?”
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