'Uncle Tom's Cabin' - (corrected/best version)

[Posingstrap]

Note to reader: My first posting of this story was done with multiple uploading mistakes due to my being very new to LPSG and not understanding the technical procedures for how to upload a story properly using only one thread. This version is the one I hope you will use, while asking you to excuse my inexperience and thanking you (and the site administrators) for your patience.
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Chapter One

My name is Billy and I'm eighteen years old. I live on my uncle's place near Burnt Wood, Oregon, only Tom isn't really my uncle, because I was a foster kid. I ended up at Toms' when the last family I was with, decided to move to Eugene. Tom was our closest neighbor and the only person who seemed to take any interest in me. My foster family only seemed interested in church. They dragged me to church so much that I got sick of it. And they never let me go anywhere or make any friends. Only Uncle Tom seemed to care. I'd go over as often as I could.

"I don't have much to offer," he'd said a month before I was supposed to move. "But I know you like the country and want to stay in your school."

We were sitting with our boots propped-up on the pine log railing of his front porch. It was the most peaceful property on the whole road. My heart beat loud over his generous, unexpected invitation. I couldn't seem to find any words.

Tom is a VERY big man, who doesn't talk unless he has something to say. He sipped his coffee while looking at a woodpecker hopping up a dead fur.

"So?--you interested in staying at Uncle Tom's Cabin?", he joked a bit in his quiet way.

"S-sure!" I felt so damn excited.

And ever since that day, I've called him Uncle Tom. That was a year ago.

I'm telling you all this because I want to tell my story--and like say, Tom doesn't talk much, while I'm kind of wordy, I guess--and there's lots going on right now. I mean, like I said before, Tom is a very big man--all muscle, and nearly six-foot-two. He reminds me of Hercules or something. He's also handsome as hell, with black hair and a rough jaw. I'm pretty nicely built for my age. I'm five-foot-eight and I only shave about once a week because it doesn't seem to grow in very fast. My hair is brown, but lighter in the summertime.

When I told you how my heart pounded to hear Tom invite me to stay with him?--well, it's because he always makes my heart beat fast when he's near me. It's like I can feel him--feel the heat through his flannel shirt. His wanting me to move in made me feel proud and special.

But because he's so quiet, his body sort of ends up speaking for him in a kind of funny way. You know what I mean? Like, it sort of says things to me which get me all excited inside. Whenever we're having a beer on the porch--like after a week of cutting firewood--I have a hard time staying calm. Before I know it, I'm noticing Tom's chest hair curling from his opened shirt, or watching his biceps roll when he lifts a beer bottle. It's crazy. I don't want to look--but like I said--it's like his body is talking to me or something.

Worst of all I guess, is how my dong seems to have a mind of its own. I have a big dick. I know I do because the guys at school always look right at it after gym class. And when I look at theirs, I wonder why mine hangs down so low and theirs don't.

When I'm washing dishes with Tom, or sitting on the porch, my dork just starts swelling. The next thing I know, it's all the way hard. And no matter how loose my overalls are, my crotch just pokes out like a tent.

So a couple of weeks ago, as we're having a second beer on the porch, I caught Tom looking over at my telltale fly. I thought I'd die, because even though I sure know when I'm throwing a rod, I'd come to thinking that Uncle Tom either didn't--or didn't seem to care.

His own crotch always seems way packed. Like his muscles, it just bulges. Every time I look over at it, his zipper is all mounded--like it can't seem to hold his dick and balls inside. That sight only makes my dick swell up more.

"You know, Billy," Tom said after eyeing my jeans, "you can talk to me about anything."

I swallowed my Miller and tried crossing my legs. It only made it worse. "Um, sure," I said, my mind racing, my heart beating. "I know that."

"I mean, here it is Friday night, and you're stuck splitting another six pack with your Uncle Tom." His voice is very deep and thoughtful. Whenever he speaks, it's always out at the trees, even though he's talking to me. I kind of like that, but it doesn't work when I do it, too. I always end up looking at his face.

"Don't you ever feel like taking the pickup into town? --maybe meet a few girls?", he asked after hearing nothing back.

I didn't know what to say then. He and I had never talked about chicks before. I looked over at his unshaven face. "Well," I asked, "do you feel stuck here with me?"

I watched him scratch his chin and smile a little out at the woods. He took a long swig of beer. "Thirty-two isn't eighteen, Billy. At your age I'd at least learned what I needed to about girls. Aren't you even interested?"

I didn't know what to say, or even what to think. Hell, I'd spent all my free time singing hymns. I didn't know squat about dating or things like that. I looked at him, then down at his pants. Tom wasn't excited down there the way I still was, but he still looked big in the crotch. It didn't take much to imagine a bunch of girls crowding around him in a bar, or at a dance. And then my cock stiffened even more when I imagined him flirting.

"I don't really dig girls," I heard myself say. "I know I should, but I don't." I shrugged a little.

Beer number two always gets me feeling light in the head and saying anything that springs to mind.

Uncle Tom tilted his chair back more. We listened to a bunch of crows arguing up in the cedars. I tried to use my mind to calm my pounding heart and relax my nonstop boner, but it wasn't working.

"They don't do much for me either," Tom said. He ran his hand through his black wavy hair. He watched the crows yelling as they flew off. "So, I guess neither one of us feels stuck here on the old porch."

"I can't wait for Fridays," I said, watching him down beer number two. "It feels great to relax with you after cutting wood all day."

"You ready for another?", he asked after a while.

I nodded, getting up to go bring out two more. My eyes drifted over the stretched-out length of his physique--at how snug his waist was, and how huge his shoulders were.

When I came back, I thought I'd done a pretty good job of shifting my dick to one side, but my crotch came right in line with his face as I handed him his beer.

"Don't be embarrassed by this," he said slowly after I'd put my feet back up on the railing, "--but are you always that horny, Billy?"

My mind really spun its wheels at that question, because to tell you the truth, I didn't really know what the word 'horny' meant. I mean, I'd heard guys in school joke about it--but I didn't dare ask them what it was. I only knew it was something about sex.

I felt my neck begin to burn. "I don't know what 'horny' even is, Uncle Tom."

I saw him pause as he put his beer to his lips. Then he nodded a bit. I waited, hoping he wouldn't laugh or anything. We looked out at the woods. The sun was very bright, making the porch feel dark and cool.

"It's that feeling guys get when their dick won't stay down," he finally explained out at the trees. "When you're feeling horny, your wang goes up like the horns on a bull."

I felt my cock swell up even more at hearing Tom speak about 'dicks' and 'wangs'. Then my whole face turned red, because I know what I look like when I'm blushing.

"Every guy on the planet gets horny, Billy," he added, looking at his beer closely. "I'm that way right now myself."

I felt my heart really start pounding then, and knew my face probably looked all pink. I didn't dare check out Tom's crotch, but mine really began throbbing. "Y-you are?", I asked.

Beer number three always seems to go right to my dick. It's like my mind shuts down and my cock takes over.

"Just seeing yours all turned-on like that makes mine get going, too," Tom smiled slightly. "It's kind of like when someone yawns—you can't help yawning with 'em," he explained.

A third beer also loosens up my mouth. I can't seem to think before I speak.

I looked over at his bunched-up jeans--then at Tom's shirt-stretching biceps.

"I always get this way when you’re around," I heard myself tell him. "I know it's stupid, but I can't help it," I whispered. "It just gets all tingly and shit."

Tom didn't let me feel embarrassed for long. "You make me that way, too," he said matter-of-factly. "I guess that's why we're talking about it." He paused to take a new swig. "There's no sense hiding what we can't hide anyway."

"Wow," I breathed, looking out at the trees. Suddenly I was glad we lived so far from the road. We could talk about anything without anyone else to bother us. I swallowed almost a whole third of my beer.

"Are you upset, Billy", he asked quietly after a while.

My heart thudded in my chest, yet my brain seemed real light—like a big weight was lifting off me.

"God, no," I said quickly. "I just thought--I dunno--just thought I was a freak or something."

Tom sat relaxed; his big legs propped up on the railing. His calmness calmed me down, too. And then I smiled, because he'd said I make him horny the same way he makes me horny. It seemed hard to believe, but I accepted it as the biggest compliment I'd ever gotten.

And when I finally looked over, he was unbuttoning his flannel shirt! Tom never unbuttoned or unzipped anything. The most I'd ever seen in a whole year was him with a towel around his waist--and then only as he went from the bathroom into his bedroom.

"You feel like another brew?", he stood up and then spread his shirt wide open and took it right off. He let it drop onto the porch.

"Sure," I said. I tried like the devil not to stare, but God! His chest is so pumped, his nipples actually spear straight through all that black hair.

He smiled some at my open mouth. "I know we never go beyond three," he said, running his fingers through his pec carpet.

"I kind of feel like getting hammered tonight," I admitted, disbelieving the size of his bicep when it rolled and swelled into a mound.

He laughed a bit, making his abs stand out in ridges. His abs have almost no hair at all on them. All that black hair covers his hunky pecs, then the rest of him is smooth.

"We've never gotten hammered together, Billy," Tom said. "I hope you're not a mean drunk."

I heard the screen door open and Tom's boots on the floor. I didn't know what 'mean drunk' meant, either, and then figured it out. At the same time, I found myself unbuttoning my own shirt and taking it off.

Because Tom was always so modest, I, too, never went around shirtless. We each kept the bathroom door closed. We'd kept our bedrooms doors shut, too.

The air felt sexy on my muscles--the back of the chair cool against my bare skin. I looked at the wide circles of my pink nipples.

The more my chest develops, the wider my nipples get. They sit smack in the middle of each pec, not a whisp of hair anywhere. My nipples are so pointy, they look like someone could just pinch them off.

I heard Tom's boots as he came towards the door. I flexed my right bicep, watching it rise into power. I'll never have Tom's arms, but mine are real big.

And then I was looking right at Tom's crotch as he handed-down my beer. I swear I could feel its heat on my face, it was so full. A manly trail of black hair travelled down his muscular stomach, fanning out as it reached the top of his jeans.

Tom said nothing about how we'd stripped off our shirts. But when we clinked bottles together, his green eyes stared at my pointy nipples.

Then he propped his feet back up on the railing.

"Can I ask you something?", I said after a while.

"Ask away."

I gave up trying to find the right words. The beer wasn't letting me. "Do you--you know--masturbate much?", I asked, instantly feeling blood rush up my neck. I waited to hear a laugh, but it never came.

Instead, Tom just quietly lifted his bottle to his lips. "All guys do," he answered, looking at the woods. There were a pair of Stellar Jays flashing blue and black through the pines.

"To me it's a real private thing," I said, feeling okay about saying more. "I only found out how one time in the shower. It really scared me at first."

Tom nodded. "It is private, I guess," he agreed. "It's pretty personal."

We watched the female jay boldly land a few yards from the porch. Only then did the male join her.

"But it's sex," Tom said. "And sex without love is pretty lonely sometimes."

His words seemed to hit me--echoing in my head. I'd never once thought of it being lonely because I'd never really thought of trying to masturbate with anyone. I glanced over at his big hairy chest--at his big biceps.

And then it really hit me, that no matter what happened now, it would always be lonely by myself--now that I knew we were both horny for each other. I saw, too, that even when Tom had left the porch for a few minutes, I felt sort of empty.

Taking his shirt off was like a gift to me or something. When I saw him checking out my muscles, that was like a gift, too. It made me feel like a man. it made me hope we'd always keep our shirts off.

"You ever try doing it with someone else?", I managed to ask him, trying to sound normal--trying not to look his way.

His silence this time made my heart pound so loudly, I could hear it in my ears.

"We could if you want to," I heard him say back. “I'm sure no expert, though." He took a swig of beer. "I'm about as shy as you are, truth be told."

We sat silent for a while.

"Do I really make you--um--make you feel horny?”, I asked, looking at his big chest and arms. I couldn't believe a guy like Tom would be as shy as me about sex! Wow. It made me feel kinda bold all of a sudden.

He didn't look at me staring at his huge hairy tits. He just crossed his ankles on top of the railing. It mounded-up his jeans.

I looked out at the woods, the way he did.

"Yeah, you do," he said. "I never looked that good when I was eighteen," he said. "I don't know how you put on all that muscle."

Uncle Tom still looked out at the trees, as if he wasn't really checking me out, but I knew he was.

"I want to take off my jeans," I heard myself say. "Is that okay?"

In reply Tom just reached down and undid his belt buckle. Then I heard a rasp as he pulled down his zipper.

We both struggled to stay seated while shoving our jeans over our thighs--and when our bare feet connected with the railing, we were wearing only white Calvins. My cock was so hard it nearly ripped a hole through the pouch. I wanted to adjust it but felt too self-conscious.

Only then did I glance his way. The hair on his huge thighs was so dark, and his skin so tanned, the mound of his pouch looked whiter than ever, trying like hell to hold all he had inside it. I could see the shape of his giant cockhead pressing out the cotton.

"You've got a big cock," Tom said, swigging his beer.

"God--so's YOURS," I answered, glad he was looking at me the way I was at him.

"Mine feels like a fencepost seeing yours," he said, not actually looking at me.

I reached down then to try and shift mine. All the nerves up my shaft sent little shocks through me. I pushed it to make it lie sideways, which nearly poked it out the side.

My balls swelled up. "Mine almost hurts it's so horny," I said.

"Maybe we should just take these off, too," Tom said, not making a move to do so.

"It's good we're so far from the road," I laughed, my voice all breathy. I couldn't believe Uncle Tom was willing to be naked with me—right there on the front porch!

 

[Posingstrap]

Chapter Two

We sipped our beers awhile, and then as if by some silent agreement, we both reached down at the same time to skin off our Calvins.

When I saw the familiar size and thrust of my big pink-headed dong, I felt blood once again flush my cheeks. No one on earth--let alone Uncle Tom—had ever seen me naked with a huge hardon before!

Neither one of us looked at each other as we put our bare feet back up on the railing. But there we were naked, sitting in our chairs, beers in hand, on our front porch.

"That's one hell of a beautiful cock you've got," Tom said softly after a while.

"Oh man," I kind of shuddered, hearing his low-spoken compliment. "Thanks," I whispered, looking at how my dick kind of throbbed all by itself at his sexy words.

Only then did I dare look over.

"Holy crow," I breathed.

His was a good nine or ten inches! The shaft looked too big around to even try to surround with one hand. There was one fat vein bulging up it, till the deep lip of the satiny head blossomed out. The whole throbbing thing curved in a sexy arc, making the giant head poke into Uncle Tom's wide belly button.

A forest of deep black hair puffed from his crotch.

He crossed his ankles on the railing, making his sack of lightly furred balls jiggle upwards to nestle between his gigantic thighs.

Shaken with a surge of teen boy lust, I fell back against my chair and tried to breathe deeply. I felt sort of dizzy, dazed by what I'd just stared at.

"That can't be real," I finally breathed, looking at the trees but seeing only his naked cock and balls.

"I guess it's not your cup of tea," Tom said, matter-of-factly.

I quickly looked back at it, then up into his dark eyes. "Oh no," I said, fighting for words to describe my jumble of thoughts. "It's the most--well--the horniest thing I've ever seen!" I sputtered. "I mean, it's like it's too good to be true or something!"

Tom glanced down at the head of his whopper which had swelled at my words.

It was maroon and smooth as marble and had a fat helmet shape. Below the head, it was dark and rich-skinned and mysterious and muscular.

"I want you to like it," he admitted. "Mine sure likes yours."

I stared at his hot cock, at the black hair piled around it. "It's a real MAN'S cock—and…and what huge balls!" I said worshipfully, staring in horny awe.

"Lemme see yours," Tom said, looking over.

I dug my hand down between my downy thighs and hefted up my low-slung bag. I then crossed my ankles like Tom and let them plop onto the vee my thighs made. There's soft downy hair coating my balls. It's very light brown—lighter than the hair on my curly head.

There's also a surprising triangle of thick brown curly hair around my cock--surprising, because otherwise I have no hair anywhere else, except in my armpits and up the crack of my ass.

My balls felt all tingly and excited. They made my cock jump, and thrills went up and down my legs.

"You've got a great pair of balls, Billy," Tom said. He brought his hand down and began slowly jacking his stiff cock. I watched the soft skin slide up it--saw how even Tom's large hand couldn't seem to completely handle its hugeness.

He seemed to settle back in his porch chair, his fist lazily stroking, his eyes glancing at my on-display pink-headed cock and downy balls. He used his other hand to find his beer, and then drank from it. He looked out at the quiet woods as a breeze ruffled into our cock bushes and teased our stiff nipples.

Seeing this, I settled back myself--swallowed some beer--and also began massaging my turned-on cock.

It felt super.

I felt a rush of happiness take hold of my heart--and I never felt so good in my life. "This is so great," I sighed, sipping my beer, glancing over at Uncle Tom's giant, super-alive dick. I watched his soft balls give away skin as he slowly jacked his super-curved, ten-inch erection. It made them plump up and hug the base.

"I never thought we'd be doing this together," Uncle Tom said after a while. "It's not why I asked you to live with me."

"I know that," I smiled, staring at his cockhead--at how perfect it was. "But it's cool, huh?--Isn't it, Uncle Tom"?

He didn't say anything at all for a long time.

"People need people, I guess," he said very softly, mostly to himself.

"I don't ever want to do this alone anymore," I said, as though deciding something real important. "I couldn't. It would be way too lonely after this."

He kept up his slow-fisting, watching me do the same. "Billy?", he asked out after a bit.

"Yeah?"

"Want to slide your chair over a little?"

"Yeah," I said softly, my heart racing even more. I didn't, though. I didn't want to ruin the sexy pace of everything.

We sipped our Millers and looked out at how dazzling bright the sun looked, compared with the cool, shadowy porch. Slowly I shifted my heavy chair sideways until I felt our two thighs connect. His was hot and hairy and sent electric shocks to my balls. I never ever thought I'd ever feel Uncle Tom's naked body touching mine. Never.

I felt him sort of rub my thigh with his a little bit, adding to the thrills.

"Your skin's so smooth," he said.

"Your hair turns me on so bad," I whispered. "I wish I had a hairy chest and legs like yours."

Tom stopped rubbing my thigh and tilted his beer up. I just stared at how close-up his cock and balls now were. I could see everything he had without having to turn my head. His bicep brushed my shoulder. It was huge and smooth and warm.

"I'm glad you don't have hair," he said, looking down at my legs. "It feels sexy." He rubbed his thigh on mine again. "You've got a great body, Billy."

My cock swelled in my fist and little sparks went into my balls. I stopped pumping it, the thrill too much to handle.

"It's nothing like yours," I whispered. "Yours makes me crazy--all of it. Damn!"

Uncle Tom relaxed into his chair again. The noisy crows returned in a black rush, tumbling, and fighting all over the lawn. It was like we were watching a play, except we were bareassed naked. Tom had stopped massaging his cock, too. Both our dickholes were big 'O's. The heads were so dark and shiny, they looked ready to pop.

"I hope this isn't just the beer talking," Tom said. "Maybe you'll wake up regretting this tomorrow."

The crows chased each other into the trees and bounced around from branch-to-branch, trading insults.

"I don't want to sleep alone tonight," I blurted, surprised by my own words. "I want to stay naked beside you."

I felt Tom's body stiffen a little, his thigh flexing against mine. When I looked down, I saw a pearl of clear candy in the mouth of his cockhead. I looked up at him and Uncle Tom's eyes were closed.

"Maybe I shouldn't have said that," I felt my heart pound in my chest.

Tom opened his eyes and I quickly looked out to watch the crows jump about. I felt scared inside, like I'd gone too far or said the wrong thing.

"I'd like that, too," he finally said. "I'd like it a lot."

A grin broke over my relieved face.

I swigged my beer and punched his thigh with my fist. It was solid and made a loud smack.

"Awwwh, cool," I said. "Thanks, Uncle Tom." I left my hand there, ruffling my knuckles against the hair on his leg.

I felt him shift his body a bit, and I lifted my hand away.

"Guess what?", he smiled, shrugging a little. "I have to pee."

"Me, too," I smiled back. "--only it feels like I can’t."

He brought his feet down to the porch, and so did I.

"That's because we're so close to the brink, our cocks can't figure out what to unload first," he said.

I looked at his six-foot-two physique, feeling the heat from his muscles, his giant hardon kissing up against his rippled abs. I also looked at his muscle-mounded chest. His nipples were poking from the hairy forest.

"You can use it first," I said, stepping aside. "I can wait."

"Hell," Tom said, moving to the railing. "Let's just pee off the old porch."

His huge cock thrust upward in such an arched curve, its head literally bounced and slapped against his abs. He watched my own pink piledriver proudly shoot straight up from my curly nest of light brown curls. My balls swung against my thighs.

For a few seconds our rods just bobbed at one another, as if they were showing off--as if they were independently sizing one another up--as if they were hungrily eyeing each other.

I felt carved out of cock. They twitched and lurched around like they wanted to wrestle.

"Ohhh, fuck," I heard myself utter. "This is so sexy, man! It's just so friggin' hot!"

Tom laughed a bit, his eyes fixed on my big throbber. "Stop---or we'll never be able to piss."

I stared at his dick--then back at mine. "We piss now, and I'll spray my face," I grinned. "You'll pee right into your belly button!"

"At least your stands up straight", Tom said, nodding at my eight-incher.

"I love how yours curves like that," I said back. "It's so damn hot-looking---like it's super, super-hard."

Tom crouched a little to anchor his thighs against the log railing, with me standing beside him. I copied him in pressing down the base of my erection, making my cock angle out towards the woods. I knew better than to say anything, because it took all my concentration to force my dick to pee.

Godamn! Just watching his mighty rod buck around in the air made me want to groan and jizz all over the place. Tom's bush is so thick, his fingers were buried knuckle-deep in the black curls.

Mine's real thick, too. I'm damn proud of my soft man bush, 'cause without it, I'd really feel like a boy. Tom's huge hairy chest and legs make him such a hunk--and the way a curl of his hair always falls over his tanned forehead makes him look like an unshaven Adonis or something.

We both kind of flexed our abs and grunted. And then a familiar ache came into my balls. I felt my knees give way--and then I moaned. A gush of hot piss arched out from both our hard cocks at once, splatting way out on the grass and leaves!

With huge relief we both gasped and then I laughed as we used our hips to aim our dicks so that our streams criss-crossed in the air. It was so damn male and made Uncle Tom seem like a big kid. It was like he was my older brother or something. Our hips snapped forward to coax more piss out, until he and I were bouncing our hardons against the railing to shake off the last drops.

I watched Uncle Tom's giant balls lengthen even more, slapping his hairy thighs. It was awesome. Shit!

And when he turned to sit down, I got a view of his beautiful, hard muscular ass! There were whisps of dark hair riding up the tight crease and

I wanted like hell to reach out and have it. I never knew a guy's ass would make me feel horny too.

"I almost couldn't pee," I said as we put out feet back up on the railing.

Tom took a new swig of beer.

"You've got a great butt," Tom said.

"You mean it? Thanks!", I smiled happily. "I saw yours, too. I just want to play with it. It makes me soooo turned on!"

Tom looked down at his cock. I looked over at it, too. Having peed, our cocks weren't all the way hard anymore. His balls looked real heavy and male and hairy. I mean, they're just so damn huge!

"You can play with anything you want to," Tom said then. "You can play with my big cock."

My dick suddenly swelled-up in heat--it just headed for the skies. I've never sprung a rod so fast in my whole life.

"Jesus", I shuddered.

"We could jack each other’s," he said. "--try a new one on for size."

"Oh, Jesus," I whispered again, my eyes travelling over his hairy-chested physique.

"Do you want to play with my hard cock?", Tom asked, his voice deep and raspy.

"Yeah," I whispered hoarsely.

"I want to play with yours, too," he said. "And we could feel up each other's tits."

"Y-Yeah, sure,", I said, unable to move. It was like I COULDN'T move, even though I wanted to more than anything on earth!

But Uncle Tom didn't move any, either, except to keep sipping his beer.

By now the October sun was beginning to cast blue shadows from the firs and pines on the leafy ground. I was getting so excited; my hands shook when I tried to swallow some beer.

"You probably think I've done stuff like this a lot", Tom said, looking at the front yard.

He'd stopping rubbing thighs with me. And since pissing together, we weren't fisting our dicks anymore, either.

"Um, no, I don't", I answered. I glanced over at his unshaven face. That curl of hair was lying on his forehead, and his cheekbones made his face look tough as hell. But those eyes of his are as dark and soft as a deer's.

"But, um, HAVE you done stuff like this a lot, Uncle Tom?"

He smiled a bit. Our fourth beer was nearly empty, and we both slung our bottles way back to finish it up. I really felt like having a fifth, 'cause strangely, I didn't feel drunk--just damn excited, and light in the head.

"Around here, you either do stuff with chicks, or you do nothing at all," Uncle Tom said.

He sat forward and spat out into the yard. "I'd rather do nothing at all."

I couldn't help it and laughed like a maniac. My nervous excitement turned his comment into a huge joke all of a sudden.

All my attempts with girls have been a friggin' disaster. So to have a six-foot-two, body-builder-hairy-chested woodsman jock like Uncle Tom say that stuff made me feel a big sense of relief!

Tom raised his empty bottle of Miller. It made his triceps stand out when he turned it. I looked at the thick gush of hair in his pits. "Well, you aren't turning mean yet--so maybe we should go for number five," he said.

"You want me to get them?", I looked at his football-sized bicep, a smile plastered on my face.

"Just hand over those empties," he said, towering over me, taking a bottle from my excited hands. "It looks tacky as hell with these all over the place."

When he nearly dropped it, his cock tossed upwards and then thudded against his swaying nuts. It was half-soft---a thick, skin-blessed all-male hang with a huge giant mushroom head on it. Uncle Tom's curly-thick pubic bush piled in a puffy triangle in his manly vee. His lemon-shaped balls hung lower than his dick. I was staring so much, I was handing up the bottles in slow motion.

He didn't laugh or anything, but his cock started to make little, pulsing jerks the more I stared. The head swelled, and the girth got way thicker as it lengthened. My own began crying for help between my legs. I kept looking at how hairy and male his naked crotch was, still not believing I was able to do it---that Uncle Tom was letting me stare.

His biceps and forearms full of clinking empties, I watched his muscle ass dimple as he used his big toe to pry open the screen door. On another guy his ass might have been big. But Uncle Tom's narrow waist wedged-up to shoulders so broad and muscular, his ass looked almost small.

It was meaty and round and a little paler than the rest of his body.

Hell. Uncle Tom was the man I wanted to be.

Left there by myself, I looked down at my drooling hardon. I loved my big cock. It was pinker than Uncle Tom's—like it looked new--like a cock would fresh out of the box. The head glowed a dark shiny maroon. With Uncle Tom gone I felt a little silly sitting there on our front porch staring at my naked hard cock. It began shrinking a bit, as if it only wanted Uncle Tom around. And I knew then that from now on my whole life would be different.

In the space of one afternoon over beers, I'd gone from a kid with an embarrassing habit of getting boners when I didn't want them. to being appreciated--admired, even. I felt up my big tits, happy they were so smooth and wide circled, with the nipples stiff in the middle of each circle. I felt each mound of my biceps, no longer caring that they weren't as big as Uncle Tom's.

After all, he liked my built body the way it was and that thought pumped new blood into my cock. Suddenly I was glad my legs had only peach fuzz on them. I looked down into the sexy pile of my bush, glad I had so much going between my legs. He liked my muscles--my cock and balls--my man's tits--my smooth body.

No, I didn't feel like a shy boy anymore. And suddenly the thought of Uncle Tom wanting me to share his bed with him filled me with heart-pounding pride and pleasure. My cock totally filled in one, pulsing second. Little sparks rose into my balls as the head of my dick blossomed into a preening helmet.

It felt fuckin' terrific.

The screen door slammed, and I looked over to see Uncle Tom sporting a raging erection. It tocked stiffly side-to-side, the head brushing his abs as he brought me my beer. His giant bag made love to his thighs while I let out my breath in a long admiring stream.

Neither of us said a word about how turned-on we both looked. We didn't have to anymore because we knew damn well why. Uncle Tom made me hot, and I obviously made him hot too. He sat back down right beside me, and when he raised his feet back to the railing, he let his thigh rub its hair against my smooth leg.

"You don't seem drunk," he said as we clinked bottles. "How do you feel?"

I swallowed my first sip. "I feel horny," I laughed, loving my new word.

Tom took a swig. "That's good--because so do I."

My glow of happiness changed again to a thrill of nervousness as I suddenly realised that Uncle Tom wasn't going to just reach out and grab my big cock.

It dawned on me that being my 'uncle', he just wasn't going to make the first move!

I shook my head slowly. All this time spent talking about it was because of that!

I decided then, that if I did--if I did go ahead and feel him up, he'd maybe do the same to me.

At first, this thought knotted me all up inside. But then I relaxed some, knowing it would happen one way or another if I just took a deep breath and let it. By now the shadows on the ground were much longer, the air chillier, the sun more mellow.

 

[Posingstrap]

Chapter Three

Our cocks throbbed-- glowing in the golden light--the hair at their bases piled in a masculine wreath around our shafts. Uncle Tom looked so hot---so damn sexy--nude and hard-cocked! His silence made his cock speak for him.

It curved, skintight, and it jerked whenever I looked at it.

Slowly I inched my right hand over to first brush the hair on his thigh, then let my hand kind of rest on top of it. Uncle Tom's cock lurched upwards, the head swelling to a full-bodied crown. His thigh felt hot to my touch, the hair soft, sexy.

Uncle Tom didn't let my first contact become shaky and nervous. His left hand came over to rest right on top of my own. His fingers rubbed my knuckles gently, making my fingers begin feeling into his thigh more.

We both took a swallow of beer, as though nothing were really going on.
My pulse drummed in my ears and rhythmically made my cock tap my flat belly. Uncle Tom used his hand to move my fingers further across his hairy thigh.

Just sliding down across that thigh--feeling the hair grow thicker, the warmth of it hotter--made my balls bunch-up.

Our biceps were brushing--his huge against mine, like warm granite. My nipples suddenly rose up into cones. And Uncle Tom's abs were flexing and relaxing as my fingers slid further down his inner thigh.
And then my baby finger felt the warm loose skin of his ballbag. His balls suddenly gathered into a huge mound, the hairs standing on end. All I could hear was our breathing. My cock was twitching about as I felt my baby finger begin rubbing his bloated sack of maleness.

Once again, Uncle Tom brought the bottle up to his lips, his hand on mine letting me know it was okay to touch his soft balls. My hand shifted further. I felt my fingers begin tickling the whole, fat pouch--my palm hotly resting over nothing but big, luscious man balls. My dick grew so tight I had to squeeze my thighs together at the feeling.

Uncle Tom's hand on top of mine pressed down, until my fingers were so full of balls, they just began squeezing them like ripe tomatoes. My own balls gathered in a heap, feeling neglected and alone.
I watched as Uncle Tom's hand left mine and crossed over my arm.

I shifted my body sideways to give him room, then moaned to feel his hand finger my hot bag. He was staring at his gentle fingers playing with my fuzzy sack. I stared at his huge, soft nuts in my hand, then dared to feel the base of his enormous cock with my finger. It lurched around, then a new pearl of cock honey burbled from the open cocklips.

Uncle Tom set his beer on the porch floor, so I did, too. I tried not to move much, afraid he'd think I was turning shy. My other hand gathered all his balls into a fleshy pile to feel their silky weight. But they were so full and heavy, the slippery, sexy rocks draped over my palm. Feeling the hairy bag made me feel weak, it was so thrilling. I felt him cup my nuts and jiggle them around.

"It's hot, huh?", Tom said.

When I looked into his face, his green eyes were glowing as he watched his hand fool my balls around.
"Awwwh, man--your balls are SO hot", I whispered, loving how gently his big fingers played with my bag. "I never, ever thought I could feel your balls!"

"Feels great," Uncle Tom said.

His forearm is muscular and covered with black hair--and even his hand has hair on it. Watching his arm flex as he tumbled my sack around made me even hornier. But most of all, I was in heaven, having my hand buried in the heat of his hairy crotch.

"Go ahead. It's okay," Uncle Tom said softly when I looked into his face. "It's cool."

I sucked in a breath and then slid my fingers up along his ten-inch cock.

It was huge and steamy and bucked against my hand. Like a giant muscle, it dared me to try and squeeze it. My fingers couldn't wrap all the way around the pulsing thing, and I felt the big vein throb.

"Oh Lordy, Uncle Tom," I whispered. "God in heaven!"

"You like it?" he stared down at how small my hand looked trying to hold on. "I want you to like it."

I dared to jack his King Kong, amazed at how loose the tender skin was—how rock hard the shaft beneath was! His cockhead mushroomed at my touch, and clear candy dripped from its hunky spread open lips.
"I totally love it," I breathed. "I’ve never loved anything more in my life. What a big hard bitchin' cock!"
More juice dripped and drooled at my words, and then I felt his big hand wrap around my own hard dick.
"A perfect cock," Uncle Tom said, his voice all husky. "This is one...perfect...cock."

 

[Posingstrap]

Chapter Four

I couldn't help it, and moaned, my hips pushing my thick teen rod further into his grasp. His fingers just fit its girth, and he pumped it like the man he was, making shocks go through me. My boy balls flopped around against my thighs.

I moaned again, feeling a swoon of such deep, deep joy, I thought my heart had stopped beating.

"Too much, huh?", Uncle Tom said, relaxing his grip.

"I-It's like electricity," I said, my voice shaky. I gathered what little composure I could. "Yours, too?" I squeezed his muscular hardness.

Uncle Tom's eyes closed. "When you do it....", he swallowed, his Adam's Apple working, "....when you do it, it feels like fireworks going off."

I let my fingers play in the deep pile of his cockbush. I was surprised how silky it was, yet so thick. It made me want to push my face into it---feel it against my nose, my lips, my chin. Hell, it made me want to comb it, brush it--stack it all around his giant cock. It was a man's bush.

Tom dallied in my own wheatfield of curls, his fingers making the hair come alive and tickle the sides of my skintight rod. It made me even more proud I had such a manly pile between my smooth thighs.

"Sweet," Uncle Tom said. "Tonight, I'm going to kiss you down there." His voice was deep and lusty.

I shuddered. My dick bounced upwards--connecting with his fingers--and then a gyser of pre-come spilled over my fat crown.

"Oh yeah," Tom said, watching my dick juice. "That's a perfect, perfect cock."

My hand moved up over his smooth, hard, muscular belly, ruffling the tiny hairs leading to his bellybutton. I stuck my little finger in the muscle-stretched hole.

"Awwwh, man!", I whispered. It was so private, so hot...so deep and sexy.

Uncle Tom smiled as my hand traveled up the ripples of his standout abs. He watched my fingers dig into the hairy canyon between his huge tits, and he flexed them to make the nipples stand up through the fur.

I cupped my palm over his right slab, feeling the utter power—the hairy, muscular power of a real man's chest. Still flexing, the mountain-sized swell was impossible to squeeze. Uncle Tom relaxed, and suddenly I could play with his beautiful pecs and comb my fingers through the field of soft hair.

Not wanting to deny him, I flexed my own big boy chest, and he brought his hand up my smooth, rolling abs to then rub his hair-tufted knuckles gently over my nipple. It contracted and drew up into a hot spike against them--and then he just opened his hand and squeezed my whole thick pec.

I jittered around in my chair, his hot hand driving me wild. My nipples are super- sensitive and his hand was muscular and sexy. Seeing my shuddering reaction, Uncle Tom relaxed and then used his baby finger to thrum my stiff tit, teasing its jutting resistance.

I pinched his own thick nipple between my thumb and first finger, and Tom let out a deep, growling moan. It was unlike anything I’d ever heard from him and it turned me on so bad, turned-on by his ultra-masculine tits. It was so hot to see his eyes worshipping my young pecs---his hand toying with my stiff nub--feeling my swollen chest muscles.

"Your skin is so smooth," Uncle Tom said lusting over my teen pecs.

My fingers couldn't get enough of his hairy chest. They rifled though the masculine carpet, travelling over those twin sex mountains.

"Would you...you know...flex your arm?", I asked him.

He lifted his forearm up to make his bicep into solid rock. Its heat washed over my face. I stared in disbelief. I raised my hand up to explore the awesome size of his strength. There was no give to the skin--I couldn't press into it or hold it. I could only try and cup the upper third, the size of a shotput.

Uncle Tom relaxed it, giving me a slight smile. "You can use it for your pillow," he said. "I want to make sure you always feel safe." Then he looked down at my own arm.

I flexed it for him, not ashamed of showing it off.

He couldn't squeeze mine any either and seemed to love not being able to. He whistled softly. "This'll be my pillow," he said. His words made me dizzy with lust.

We returned to sipping our beers--looking out into the purply-shadowed lawn-- and my whole body vibrated with an aliveness I’d never known.

We let our free hands go wherever they pleased--feeling up deltoids and hard bellies and balls.

Seeing the sun turning golden and the air growing October cool, our hands once again went in to take hold of our big cocks. Uncle Tom put his beer on the porch floor, me following his lead.

Knowing the time had come, we both shifted sideways in our chairs and brought our feet down onto the porch. With our torsos turned towards each other, we began a slow milking of one another's cocks.

I can’t even try to describe the ripe new feelings, but my cock sure loved Uncle Tom's masculine, sexy grip--and my hands sure adored the challenge of jacking his. My eyes gazed at the swirls of hair buried in Uncle Tom's crotch--then at the mounding, relaxing power of his bicep as he pumped me. His nipples poked from the field of fur, and we were so close together, I could feel the heat of his body radiating over mine in the late afternoon chill and smell his masculinity.

Beyond the needy, pleasure-demanding hunger of my cock as he pumped it, I felt the thrill of just being there bareassed on the front porch. Gone was my shock that Uncle Tom felt the same about me as I did him. Gone was my embarrassment over being hot for him and showing wood. Gone were my fears, my doubts, my self-conscious teen hesitation.

A rush of pure, total joy took me over.

I pushed my hips out to feed Uncle Tom more cock. He did the same, me watching his ballbag flop between his thighs. We brought our free hands over to play with each other's tits and feel up our biceps as they pumped cock.

A million feelings surrounded my hot dick as our pumping increased.

My mouth fell open. Uncle Tom's tongue was licking his lower lip, and his breath was getting shorter. His curl of hair fell onto his forehead, and then his eyes met mine.

His were deep and green, looking vulnerable and confident at once. With our hands flying over hot swollen cock, our eyes traded looks of sweet pleasure, showing how hot and erotic it was--how horny to be nude and turned-on.

But we didn't speak because we couldn't. We just moaned.

I had no mind left. I had only cock--hard cock and a bursting heart. My heart felt seized with such great joy, I thought it might explode. My cock stiffened into one giant muscle in his hand. It wanted only more---more Uncle Tom, more pleasure. Fisting his hugeness turned his into my own. His fist on mine made me fist his even faster.

We began panting, staring down at our flying hands, at the snorting size of our maroon-shiny cockheads. Out-of-all-control thrills danced up my spine. Our hips began shaking. Our balls rode up into one huge fist.

The skin on his dick was silky and rich--it slipped and slid over his muscular shaft, fraying the nerve endings, driving Uncle Tom mad. It fed my hand--and my hand worshipped every inch of those hot ten inches.

"Oh--oh, Billy," Uncle Tom gasped. His hips suddenly locked in an upward arching heave. “I’m…I’M…”

Seeing his whole outrageous erection being wildly jacked by my own grip, the splendor of his hairy crotch inches from my staring eyes and hearing his cry, I groaned.

My own hips lifted off the chair. We stared at our flexing, rigid monster cocks--at flying hands, a look of disbelief and urgent need on our faces.

"Oh Jesus!", I cried out, my face turning to his.

Uncle Tom looked surprised, stunned, in awe. He leaned forward, and I did, too. Our lips panted and our wet tongues flew at each other’s. Our fists went wild.

And then we both groaned in sex-crazed agony.

Suddenly we both squeezed, throttling our steaming cocks. Our bodies heaved, our faces distorted in lust. We stared down and two bloated cockheads stared back at us--then went off.

A seizure of sweet joy grabbed my balls.

"Oh FUCK!"

A blast of white fired onto my neck. I stared in thrilled alarm as Uncle Tom's giant cock fired another across my tits. Our gripping fists pumped out more, the huge cocks bucking in pent-up heat. Jizz flew and splatted, hips jittering about. We panted and gasped. Shocks rifled our pumping balls.

And then we kissed some more, tonguing one another’s lips, jaws, faces.

Shudders filled and wracked our bodies. We fisted out the last of it, the cream hot and thick--dripping from chins, tits, drooling cockheads.

My hips fell back and warmth washed over me. Uncle Tom panted and smiled into my face, reaching lower to fondle my sexy bag. As our bodies again found our chairs, I spread cum all over his huge dick and then played with his furry balls.

Only then did the exhaustion of our rigid muscles demand we stop reaching. I let Uncle Tom be, as his hands left my crotch. We stared down at our jizzed-up bodies. Our cocks looked dazed and dripping.

Unspeaking, Uncle Tom and I reached for our beers, raised our legs and planted our feet back up on the railing. Those lusty minutes felt like whole hours--yet the sun was still mellow, the pine and cedar woods still solemn. Little had changed, while nothing would ever be the same. I heard the crows cawing from the pines.

We swallowed some beer, our breathing returning to normal.

"That was hot, Billy," Uncle Tom remarked, his voice husky.

"Oh, God, Uncle Tom!"

He took another swig, and so did I.

"We sure came!" he said, looking over at me, panting and smiling.

I smiled back, wiping a glob of cream from my right nipple.

"Nothing quite like warm cum," I announced.

"It bother you?--having my load all over?"

I looked at him--at the twinkling pearls caught in his chest hair.

"Hell, no," I said back, "It's sexy as fuck!"

He raised his bottle and drank.

"Sure is," Uncle Tom answered, a huge smile on his wide lips. “It sure the fuck is.”

 

[Posingstrap]

Note to reader: I keep making little errors when I post a new chapter, because I suddenly see that what's called chapter 8 is really 3, and chapter 3 is really 4. Please, just ignore the numbers. The story is fine and correctly uploaded, I just made a mistake when doing the chapter numbering. So just go with the flow of the story; and from now on I'm going forget chapter #s altogether, and just post additions to the story without calling them chapters. Thank you, and I hope you aren't confused by the mix-up.
Posingstrap

MOD NOTE: I fixed up the chapter numbers for you.

 

[Posingstrap]

Note to reader: I keep making little errors when I post a new chapter, because I suddenly see that what's called chapter 8 is really 3, and chapter 3 is really 4. Please, just ignore the numbers. The story is fine and correctly uploaded, I just made a mistake when doing the chapter numbering. So just go with the flow of the story; and from now on I'm going forget chapter #s altogether, and just post additions to the story without calling them chapters. Thank you, and I hope you aren't confused by the mix-up.
Posingstrap

MOD NOTE: I fixed up the chapter numbers for you.

So kind and helpful!
Thank you!

 

[Posingstrap]

Uncle Tom's Cabin - Chapter Five

As far as I was concerned--sitting there nursing my fifth beer, jizz all over our bodies-- Uncle Tom and I could have agreed to just go bareassed from then on. In my beery state, I even suggested it.

"We won't have to bother with the laundry every week," I grinned over at him.

Uncle Tom remained characteristically quiet, enjoying the afterglow of it all. But I could tell he wasn't keen on the idea. His silences made me stay calmer and more centered.

We listened to the birds--to the late afternoon October wind blowing around the tops of the pines.

"Sometimes clothes are sexier than skin," he finally answered. "--and anyway, I'm really pretty conservative about such things."

It took showering and a very long nap on my bed to make me feel my own familiar shyness again. I woke to a darkened room, smelling Uncle Tom's cooking. My head felt dull, but not achy-- and my mouth felt furry and gravel pit dry.

For a minute or two it was as though nothing at all had changed. Uncle Tom was whistling to the radio, moving dishes around the kitchen. I was in my room, feeling hungry, happy to be cared for. And the memory of our being naked on the porch together felt made-up--not real.

But of course, everything had changed--just how, I wasn't sure.

And I felt shy. I felt unable to walk into the kitchen fully clothed--much less, naked. Uncle Tom's earlier comment to me--hoping it wasn't simply the beer making us horny--made me wonder whether or not that were so.

Suddenly I felt awkward again--very young, and inexplicably guilty.

Maybe he was feeling regretful--wishing it all hadn't happened.

"Hey," I heard a low voice say.

I looked over at the doorway. Uncle Tom's body was silhouetted against the light. I could feel his presence across the room.

"My mouth feels like cotton," I said.

He stood there, looking over at me. "You hungover?"

I elbowed my way up onto the pillows. "Not as bad as expected. For sure, a little woozy. Are you?"

He shook his head. "I slept, too. You want some soup? I made some soup--chicken."

Uncle Tom seems to know when to speak and when to be quiet. His silences are always peaceful--hardly ever uncomfortable.

I dressed and entered the kitchen, no longer so nervous. And soup was what we both seemed to need. I watched him dip his bread into it, a habit he'd picked up from me. I smiled. And he looked up and smiled back. He sopped up his soup, then ate slowly, intentionally.

Uncle Tom isn't much of a smiler. When he does, it speaks way louder than words. This one was strong and warm. It told me we were okay--that what had happened was fine. It was all cool.

I breathed deeply, feeling better again inside.

His smile made me look at the opened part of his shirt--at all the black curls and the deep divide of his pecs. I looked at his tremendous arms and shoulders—at how he never hunched over his food the way I sometimes did. Uncle Tom was handsome, and shy, and sexy as hell.

He knew I was eyeing him--and he wiped his lips and let his eyes drift over my own muscle-filled shirt.

“It wasn't the beer, you know," I blurted out across the table.

He nodded a little. "I know," he said. "You want some coffee?"

He stood up, his jeans snug around his hips--his plaid flannel shirt neatly tucked-in.

"It'll keep us up," I said.

Uncle Tom brought two mugs over and set one in front of me, then filled it.

My eyes couldn’t help staring at the bulge of his fly, feeling the nearness of his crotch.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," he said, pouring one for himself. "We can sleep in." He sat back down.

Thoughts of my sharing his bed brought heat to my cheeks. I stared down at my coffee. Uncle Tom felt my silence and watched me carefully.

"It's new to me, too," he said after a while. "If we didn't have doubts, then I'd worry."

I nodded, then put two sugars in my mug. "Do you hog the sheets?" I asked, trying to joke a little, yet feeling my neck turning pink.

Uncle Tom gave a little smile. "I don't know. We're going to find out."

"Can we be naked?" my heart skipped a beat. I felt my cheeks turn scarlet.

"We can be naked," he answered.

We sipped our coffees, listening to the radio play a fifties song.

It was a song about sixteen reasons to love a guy. Uncle Tom hummed it and got up to open the bread box.

He was right about clothes being sexy. With his plaid shirt and jeans on, he made me keep thinking over what they were covering up. The stripes were bunched together at his waist, and then grew wider apart along his back. My eyes kept going from his round ass up the spreading plaid to his enormous shoulders--at the mounded stripes of his biceps.

Every shirt Uncle Tom wore couldn’t hide his muscles--in fact, if anything, his clothes lived and breathed muscle. His jeans left nothing hidden. Yet, I knew that like me, Uncle Tom wore whatever was handy.

Between us, we only owned a few shirts and a couple pair of jeans and overalls.

"Have a cookie," he said.

I looked at his forearm--at the size of it, at the masculine hair below the cuffs--at his large hands. I took the cookie.

"We can eat them on the sofa," he nodded towards the front room. "The woodstove's going. Bring your coffee."

My heart was beating fast when I saw him stretched along the couch, his back up against the far arm. When I approached, he just let his big thighs fall open. He watched me with smiling eyes and set his mug on the rug.

My coffee nearly spilling, I knelt on the sofa cushion at his bare feet, then turned my back. His hands secured my hips and guided my butt down against his crotch. Watching my coffee, I carefully leaned back to nestle myself against his wide chest.

The side of Uncle Tom's face was snug above my left ear, his breath washing over my cheekbone. His body was warm, his thighs hugging my waist, his crotch full against my butt.

I was in heaven.

My cock tingled and swelled inside my jeans. I rubbed my bare feet along his calves. I felt wrapped in muscular heat.

Uncle Tom reached down to find his mug and we both sipped our coffees.

"You okay?", he murmured against my curly head.

I nodded, feeling as secure as I’ve ever been in my life. I could feel his chest rising and falling into my back as he breathed, and I could feel his nipples through his shirt.

I leaned my head into his shoulder. My cheek connected with his unshaven jaw, and I thought I'd die, I was so happy.

"How's your coffee?", he asked, his low voice vibrating against my face.

I nodded again. "It's great," I whispered. "--just super."

He took a sip. "I like holding you."

I nodded. "I like it, too."

Tom carefully slipped his hand under my arm and cupped my left pec. My nipple stiffened at his touch. He played with it through my shirt.

No sooner did he finger my pec than I felt his big cock harden inside his jeans. He squeezed his thighs, pressing his dick against the crack of my butt. My balls gathered and tingled.

We kept chewing our cookies and sipping coffee, our clothes adding to the thrill of snuggling together.

Up till then, the sofa was where we watched T.V.--sitting apart.

I ran my hand along the top of his thigh, no longer needing T.V.

Finishing my coffee, listening to Uncle Tom's breathing, I slowly unbuttoned the front of my shirt.

His hand slid inside the opening, fondling my chest, feeling the smoothness, lingering over my nipples. I pressed my face against the strength of his bicep.

"We don't need beer, do we?", Uncle Tom said quietly.

I shook my head against his strong, tanned, leathery neck, smelling his suntanned scent.

"This is all I want," I said.

I loved his exploring hand. And I put down my coffee and used both hands to pull my shirt out from my jeans.

He helped me take it off, then began undoing his own. I sat forward to give him room. A minute later, I lay my bare back against his hairy tits. Uncle Tom rubbed his mammoth chest into my smooth skin. He brought his arms around to flex over my chest. His hands again found my nipples.

I moaned.

 

[Posingstrap]

"You okay?", he asked into my scalp.

I nodded, overwhelmed. "My cock," I managed to say.

He pushed his against me. "Mine, too," his voice was low and urgent.

I awkwardly fought my jean button open. He relaxed his biceps to give me a chance to try and get them off, which let him then work at opening his own fly.

Jeans aren't easy to get out of, especially with muscular thighs, and I had to get up. We laughed about it as we tugged and yanked, until they were off.

I stood beside the sofa, staring down at Uncle Tom's white Calvins.

They couldn't deal with his turned-on dick. It was too huge, too needy, the thick-lipped head clearly defined by the snow-white cotton.

He was staring up at the tent of my own pouch. His emerald-eyed interest only made it punch-out more. I watched his bicep roll and swell as his hand came upwards. He ran his palm over my white, hot-blooded dick.

It bucked into his hand and my knees turned to jello.

I moaned and put my hand on top of his and pressed. Bolts of feeling raced up its hardness. My ballbag puckered. And then I was shoving my shorts down and freeing my turned-on rod.

We both stared at it--the mushroom head all rosy and huge in the lamplight--my eight-incher standing up straight-as-an-arrow. It pulsed against my stomach. My balls rose and fell under his dark-eyed gaze. My cockhair haloed around my crotch in the soft light. It looked honey-colored and rich and masculine.

Uncle Tom saw me stare past my dick and down between his own legs.

He lifted his hips off the cushion and pulled his Calvins free. Ten inches of veined, thick meat thwacked his brown abs. Fighting his shorts off his thighs, the giant cockhead flared, the eye looking up at me. His balls fell between his hairy thighs to lay nestled along the cushion. Black cock hair gushed from his deep crotch.

My dick throbbed in little jerks as I stared. Uncle Tom's eyes searched my face. He sat up against the sofa's arm, thighs spread, cock and balls obscene in their naked rawness, all nested in his generous bush. The upthrust prongs of his nipples teased at my starving eyes as they fought through his chest fur.

He rested his forearms on his knees and watched me gaze down at his giant, hard-cocked lewdness.

Without speaking, I knew from his face that anything I did would be okay.

I kept on staring, staring at all the vein-laced cock and soft, crepey-skinned, hair-sprinkled, gorgeously-large balls, all crowned by that tender and curly and almost feminine manbush which made it all the more carnal and too sexy for words.

The one part of me that knew how to speak for itself suddenly lurched from my groin and spewed a dribbled of honey from its turned-on mouth was my achingly hard teen cock. Swooning from the sheer beauty of his open-thighed nakedness, my breath came in little gasps, feeling like I was already close it cumming without even touching myself.

When I wrenched my eyes away from his hugeness I saw him trying to look up behind my heavy ballbag into my so-private and crease-hidden taint.

Smiling, I turned and showed him, bending over a little. Uncle Tom's eyes glowed. His lips parted, and his cockhead expanded. My inner muscles squeezed my butthole in response. My cock tightened up with it, the head turning mauve. Prickles of sensation erupted all over my body as he stared at my winking pussy.

My teen cock twitching, I climbed onto the sofa and sat between those husky thighs. "Oh God," a near-foot of hot swollen mancock rode up my grooved spine and turned-on nipples kissed my shoulder blades. His furry tits rubbed my skin. His tremendous thighs squeezed my own. Warmth spread over my trembling body as I felt hairy muscle enwrap and envelop me in a male womb of deepening joy.

With his arms resting on my knees, I pressed my cheek against Uncle Tom's full-bodied bicep. He mounded it and I kissed, then licked it. It was huge, tasting like the outdoors, the sun, and the man he was. I couldn't get enough, moaning and biting and slobbering the vein-popping mountain.

My ass pressed against his soft balls and ironbar cock. I felt him kind of shudder.

"Oh, baby, baby,” he whispered, his hot breath on my scalp.

His nearness was too much and not enough. I wanted all of him all at once.

 

[Posingstrap]

Then I was turning and kneeling, the sofa sagging and swaying.

He and I stared down at our turgid, twitching cocks before I smacked mine against his with our dicks connecting for the very first time.

It was like fire. They swelled and preened like peacocks. Their heads expanded to hard reflecting apricots and dribbled candy all down the sides.

Losing my balance, I fell against him. Being seven inches shorter, my face pushed into his tits. I licked at the hairy swells, my tongue washing Uncle Tom's nipples. Both his hands came down over my bare boy cheeks and his arms pulled me upwards. My hot wet cock slid up his abs. My face found his.

Uncle Tom stared into my eyes, then looked at my mouth. My eyes closed to feel us brush lips. A lusty moan filled my mouth. His masculine breath filled my lungs. Our tongues locked together, our lips exploring, our bodies rubbing.

His fingers slid deeper into my ass--one of them found my clean, winking hole. I moaned. My tongue went wild in his mouth, and he was panting inside me.

We began hunching our hips, driving our cocks up and down our pressed torsos. My hands clamped around his neck. I kissed him hotly, our lips now chewing at chins and jaws, my tongue licking his cheekbones, his whole face, his unshaven jaw.

Uncle Tom's fingers spread my ass and played with my tingling taint, my boy pussy, the rounds of my cheeks. He tumbled my balls around trying to have at my tiny slice. My boyhole threw off sparks at his touches--my cock kept basting his muscles.

We rutted and groaned; my face now planted on his warm thick neck.

I sucked huge welts on his skin. I no longer knew who I was. My slick tits dug against his muscled chest and his biceps bulged across my back.

His finger found my spot again and this time prodded my webbed pucker.

I gasped in shock. My head fell forward, and I stared into his eyes. A look of awe filled my face. His finger pushed more, my teen pussy suddenly clamping around it and wild feelings rifled through me.

My hips were thrusting, my body masturbating his, trying to have his finger, trying to fuck his torso. I didn't know what the hell I was doing! My hands found the arm of the sofa and I levered my body upwards.

We both stared down our bodies to watch our sex-needy cocks. They were inflamed and indignant and wet and steamy. Their spread lips stared back at us, demanding release, wanting to explode. My hips plowed cock across his own thick shaft. The heads were kettledrum taut and shiny and purple. My tits speared out at his--tits calling to tits--wanting them, needing them, feeling neglected.

We trembled in our newfound passion.

My hole kept begging for more finger. It felt obscene--painful and beautiful, and made me shake deep inside my body. I brought a hand down between us and tried to grab our hot, ripe fuckpoles. It made Tom buck up into me, his mouth panting. My hand couldn't grip our torched dicks. They were too thick, too slickened. They rubbed and leaked and tangoed.

Mine wouldn't stay put--kept lancing his belly. It felt arrogant, demanding. I was out of control. My knees dug into the cushion and my arms clamped the sofa-back for support.

I rose up, my wet cock hovering between us. Uncle Tom stared, his eyes lusty slits. I fell forward, my cock between his pecs, fucking his hairy crease, the head bumping his rough chin. He grunted against my heaving belly, licking me there.

My hips plowed his tit canyon and my arm came down behind me, my hand digging beneath my bobbing ass to find his swollen, syrup-slick mancock. "I want it," I felt its pulsing, slippery girth.

"No," Uncle Tom said, his eyes surprisingly stern, narrowing.

I rose up into a high, back-arching crouch, my thighs flexing.

"No," he said again, more firmly.

My hand reached behind to lever him upwards, the ripe mushroom head burbbling juice across my segmented boycunt.

"Billy......"

"Uncle Tom, Uncle Tom," I whispered, my voice sounding harsh. "I NEED it. Don't you understand?"

And then I just....



squatted.



Colored dots burst across my eyes before the room went black.

 

[Posingstrap]

My mouth opened and closed like a caught bass; the pain so raw no sound came out. I felt skewered, impaled, carved in two, a third of it locked inside my flaming bung.

From somewhere far away I heard my name.

A dull, numbing throb took over, making me force myself to breathe deeper than ever in my life.

"Billyboy---Jesus Christ!....."

"I'm FINE!," I stared defiantly through the popping dots.

"What the hell are you trying to....."

I squatted down even further, biting my lip to feel pain somewhere else for a while.

"I want it," I vowed. "And I'm gonna...

fuckin'....

HAVE...IT!"

I felt like a Christmas turkey with mancock stuffing--the thought making me laugh even as tears squeezed out of my eyes.

And still I made it tunnel in—another inch--another--another--another. And then my knees were trembling against my face, my ass now pressed against his thighs.

"Did it!" I grunted, not recognizing my own voice.

Uncle Tom looked all pupil. He looked full of unknown feelings--looking at me like he'd never ever looked at me before. It was a look full of concern and awe and love. He looked at me like we’d both just graduated.

He didn't move a muscle, and neither did I.

I heard logs popping and sparking in the woodstove. I heard the night wind scratching a branch against the window as my slice began to shape itself around his snorting stallion.

"Jesus, Billy...are you...okay?"

I nodded. "You're real hot inside there." I laughed a breathy laugh. "I feel like I'm shitting a sweet potato."

He looked surprised--and then we were both laughing--and then I began raising my butt to slide up the length of it, crazy feelings making my own cock suddenly tingle and begin to swell.

"Uhhhhhhh," Uncle Tom breathed, reaching in to roll my nuts gently around in his palm. His rugged face looked full of wonder, full of hot needy passion.

My clamping pussyhole snagged on the lip of his flared head.

"Billyboy," Uncle Tom said. "My big brave Billyboy." His face was dark, his eyes speaking to me more than his words ever could.

His look excited me, made me want him way up in me--and as I pushed my ass back down, his blunt-nosed helmet hit something that made me nearly shoot! His big cock was pressing some kind of inner buzzer, something I never knew I had or even existed.

"Ohhhhhhhhh--Uncle Tom, Uncle Tom," I closed my eyes, warmth spreading through my body and igniting my balls. My cock shot up like a railroad spike, dripping on his abs. My body trembling, my forehead sweating, my cunt demanding more--more Uncle Tom--more hard cock!

And then I began a fevered hunching--swinging my hips and thighs in rhythmic arcs--drilling down, rising up, riding his ass-plowing fuckpole.

"Uh--uh--uh--uh--uh--UH!" My thighs flexed as I bounced, my boyhole numb and on fire.

Uncle Tom looked lost in space, his huge tits jostling, his abs standing up in ridges. "So hot," he moaned. "Like an oven. Like a fuckin’ furnace."

The sofa sagged and swayed, the cushions nearly busting, the floorboards squeaking below it.

Uncle Tom's hands found my pecs, letting them slap his palms, the nipples all stiff and ripe. His face grimaced with sweet agonies of what was fucking his huge thick meat. "Billy. Billy. Billy!!", he looked anguished, awestricken. "You're...you're gonna make me...."

My cock danced above his hairy chest, his eyes watching it smack my belly and thighs. He looked up to my face, his eyes black and lusty. I couldn't read his warnings, his signals. My mind was full of my own newfound pride and pleasure. I felt wild and heroic--Billy The Kid; Batman's Robin.

"Whoooeee!", I crowed, "Ride 'em cowboy!" And my buttery boypussy basted his blissed-out fuck-muscle. My tight, tight twat syphoned and vacuumed his nerve-shattered ram.

"Oh, Jesus," Uncle Tom said, his eyes closing shut, his full lips parting.

His muscular shaft expanded to twice its size--the humongous thing pulsing with such size and heat, it halted me mid-way-- his whole physique shaking with lust.

"Jesus Christ!" he groaned deeply, his eyes squeezing shut.

His nipples erected to the size of baby hardons, standing up arrogantly from his fur.

His torso flexed, every muscle in his body standing out in bold relief. And with a shout, his hips sailed upwards from the sofa, burying all ten inches of his prime rib into my jiggling, hot cunt.

A look of wonder and shock crossed his face.

"UUUUUhhhhhhhggggghh!"

A splashing heat flooded my guts, my 'O' ring clamping down.

"B i l l l l l y y y y," he moaned, his hand squeezing my cock, his muscles flexing, his hips drilling for gold.

He shook and seized and quaked and spasmed, as that gargantuan cock pumped my virgin ass full of his jizz, his face a mask of passion, his neck corded, the veins pulsing.

His huge arms pulled me down, my face crushed against his chest.

His groans filled my body as his cum washed through my guts--as it drooled from my twat.

His huge arms pulled me into his kiss, his cock still plowing and firing out jizz. He swallowed my whole mouth inside his, panting and groaning my name!

"Billy, Billy," he kissed me hotly, still fucking my virgin teen hole. "I need you. I need you so bad."

At his words I felt my cock spurting-- felt hot and flushed and fevered. "Oh my God, Uncle Tom. Oh my God, I love you." And I dove against his hairy chest, my lips nursing on his lust-swollen tits.

 

[Posingstrap]

We took turns showering.

I put lotion on my glowing butthole (a lot of lotion) and high-fived him as he came in. Drying my hair in the front room, I could hear Uncle Tom singing into the steaming spray. The clock in the hall cuckooed ten times and the October wind shivered around the corners of the cabin. Wrapping the terrycloth around my waist, I stoked the wood- stove and tenderly-smiled over how my ass felt like it still had something like a baby's arm shoved up inside.

Uncle Tom has a very deep voice. He also has pretty lame musical taste. If he isn't whistling stuff from the fifties, he's singing songs from groups that are way, way gone. "I'm gonna lay you down in a bed of roses," I heard him through the door, "for tonight I sleep on a bed of nails.....I'm gonna be just as close as the Holy Ghost is....." The brass lamp with the green shade reminded me of his eyes. The log walls with native woven rugs on them reminded me of his warmth. And the old sofa with its beat-up cushions reminded me of........

"Hey, bubba." He was standing in the doorway, his head nearly touching the top of the arch.

"Hey, Hercules." His black hair was slicked back, but that wayward curl still hung over his tanned brow. "Where'd you get those from? —the very back of the drawer?"

He looked down at his frayed undershirt and jockeys. "I dunno. We need to do a laundry tomorrow. Aren't you cold?"

I wrapped my towel a little more snuggly and shrugged. "It's warm in here. The wind's sure picking up, though, huh?"

He tilted his head, listening to the branch knocking on the front window. "We've gotta bring in more wood before we hit the sack." He headed for the kitchen. "C'mon, Billy, we should finish the dishes."

I smiled at how his wife beater couldn't seem to cover his physique. It was thread-bare in places, his muscles nearly ripping through. His giant shoulders made the straps look ready to snap. And the seat of his jockeys sported a few holes, unable to hold his soccer ball cheeks inside.

I loved how he never seemed aware of his own body. I'd spend so much time looking in the mirror, trying to get my curly hair to behave, while he'd barely look at himself. He hated shaving--bothering only about twice a week--and threw on anything that appeared first in the closet.

At the doorway I watched how his shoulders tapered down to a waist so small, his ass literally bounced out from his hips. His frayed shorts were stretched so thin, I could view the dark, furry crease, mysterious and begging to be explored. Below were hairy thighs so big, they flexed even when he was relaxed.

I watched his triceps and biceps bulge as he squeezed some dish soap into the sink.

"Tell me how you are, Billy," he said, handing me the dish towel.

I could feel his freshly showered body radiating heat over my naked torso. I almost dropped a plate while looking at his hunky ass. I'd never really seen him walking around in underwear before.

"Well, let me see," I said. "My rear feels a little 'broken in'", I admitted. "And, you know....", I hesitated a bit. ".... I feel a little...."

He paused. "....a little....?" He was looking down sideways at me with raised brows.

".... you know," I shrugged and smirked. "Horny."

His eyebrows shot up, a half-smile playing on his dimpled mouth. "Horny?" he queried me. "You're really still horny ??"

He watched me shrug and shyly nod, looking down at my feet.

"Aren't you even a little bit tired?" He watched me then staring at his big round muscular butt.

"Me?.....Tired?" I crunched my abs and flexed my pecs, then gave him a devilish smirk, "Can't you remember being eighteen?"

He stopped washing the cutlery and turned, eyebrows furrowing. "Shit. How old do you think I even am, dude?"

I burst out laughing. "Dude?" I laughed more and pointed. "Excuse me, Uncle Tom---but did you just call me 'dude'?!"

I wasn't prepared for how quickly he turned on me, reaching for my towel.

I danced away but not before his hand grabbed it free. "You little shit.... trying to make me feel old?" He nodded at my naked crotch. "Looks like I'm young enough to give you a big fat hardon---huh, dude?" He snapped my towel at me.

I laughed, watching his green eyes hunger over my sexy bushed ramrod cock and bouncing balls ---staring as everything jumped and twitched, boy balls slapping. I snapped the dish towel in his direction. But he kept moving menacingly closer, backing me into the front room.

I was laughing and darting around the sofa--watching his muscles flex and dance--watching his jockeys heavily sway as he stalked me. It was like being chased by a big turned-on linebacker.

"C'mere boy.... take your punishment."

 

[thebubblegum112233]

Don’t you DARE stop this story. I’m pourrrrring precum from my fat cock head. I want Uncle Tom to work that beast so fuckinnng deep inside Billy and stretch him so insanely wide

 

[Posingstrap]

WOW -- I'm really bubbling your gum, you horny dude, you . Makes me proud and happy to know I'm helping you get off .

I just posted another installment for you bating pleasure .

Posingstrap (in Canada)

 

[Posingstrap]

WOW -- I'm really bubbling your gum, you horny dude, you . Makes me proud and happy to know I'm helping you get off .

I just posted another installment for you bating pleasure .

Posingstrap (in Canada)

ooops...I mean, I will be posting yet another continuation sometime in the late afternoon (PST). I post two a day, early morning and late afternoon.

 

[Posingstrap]

ooops...I mean, I will be posting yet another continuation sometime in the late afternoon (PST). I post two a day, early morning and late afternoon.

...but I think I told you already that I have another story on the go, 'Naked Gymnast Weekend', in case you're interested!

 

[Brcre]

Waiting impatiently

 

[Posingstrap]

I waited until he was between the sofa and the wall, then darted in front and shoved the whole thing back, pinning him. Then I leapt onto the cushions and grabbed his shirt in both hands. A second before his huge arms stopped me, I tore the whole front of it open.

A look of surprise crossed his rugged face as we both watched those furry tits bust out.

"Why, you little fucker," he muttered. "You think your little rearend hurts now?" He almost tossed the sofa aside, climbing right over it, heading my way. “You’re in for a spanking you’ll never forget!”

I threw my arms out trying to stop his advance, my spasmed laughter breathy, my eyes drinking in his tattered wifebeater, his mountainous pecs and fat nipples staring at me. I could see the skin of his giant balls peeping through one of the holes in his ancient Fruit-of-the-Looms. His thighs flexed mightily and a thrilling, fearful excitement grabbed my heart.

"I--I didn't mean it..." I laughingly protested. "Honest!" He kept coming towards me. "Uncle Tom!--" I laughed and yelled, and saw myself getting backed into the corner, my stiff boycock tossing around.

His fierce, menacing look couldn't hide the fact that he was staring right at my shit. And even as he backed me further into the log-walled corner, his own mantool began swelling in response. I could see the expanding head pushing against the frayed cotton.

I knew then that this was all a big show. I knew then that I was turning him on.... turning him on bigtime. It brought new laughter to my lips.

"You better apologize pretty damn quick, Mr. Dude."

I got caught in a fit of bent over giggling, which managed to force a crooked smile over his wide, sexy lips.

"Well?!"

The longer he had to wait for me, the bigger and stiffer his frayed pouch was getting.

"I-I'm sorry!" I burst out laughing. “Honest! I didn’t mean it!”, I tried to stop laughing but couldn’t.

"You call that an apology?" He spread both arms out wide, anchoring them on the walls.

I was now so far into the corner, my bare ass was brushing the logs.

I stared into his twinkling green eyes. He was trying like hell to keep his faked upset going.

"I think, um, I think I'd rather be punished, sir," I reached up to tweak one of his stiff tits.

Before I knew it, I was suddenly being lifted right off my feet and up over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

"Hey!" My arms were grabbing his huge lats for dear life, my hard cock digging into his hairy armpit.

The next thing I knew, we were back in the kitchen, and I was suddenly back on my feet.

Uncle Tom tossed me the dish towel.

"What the hell...?"

He turned back toward the sink. "You want punishment?" He hummed along to some dumb country tune on the radio. He nodded at the towel. "Finish drying the damn dishes, punk."

I stood there, towel in hand--so horny my balls ached---naked and hard-cocked, pouting as he handed me a dripping bowl. This wasn’t the punishment I had in mind.

"You actually like that music?", I muttered. "Garth Brooks sucks so bad."

"Better than your lame Swifty shit."

I watched him begin whistling and moving to the beat.

Being so friggin' tall, he was bent over the sink, his tight, hard, furry soccerball cheeks tossing around---tossing right out at me---right before my ogling eyes.

Damn! There was a frayed spot dead center where I knew his segmented, fur-ringed cherry had to be. The thin cotton did nothing to hide the mystery of those dancing globes, frictioning against each other, his deeply cleft, furry crack rubbing and hiding the only thing in the whole world I wanted in that moment! And that maddening little tear almost--but not quite--let me view his tender, clenched manpussy. And all of it---all of that jockey-hiding, hard beachball butt---was swinging about to Garth like a great big gift-wrapped present.

My bigboycock began spewing fuckjuice while my bigboyballs ached from dammed-up cum.

And then....then I saw him kind of glancing back at my cock, as though he was checking to see if his ass action was having an effect.

Hell. That's when I knew it was all just a big act, a way of getting me all hot and turned on and frustrated.

I dropped the dish towel.

I started humming along to the dumb song myself, moving to the beat.

Uncle Tom stopped washing the dishes and watched me from the corner of his eye.

My eight inches twitched and brushed his frayed jockeys in time to the music. Thrills rode up my shaft to feel my dick connect with his hot, hunky ass, separated by only the thinnest cotton.

Then I heard him expel air and even give out a little sound—not a moan exactly, but not far from it.

"Oh my God", I rode my naked dick up his cotton-covered divide. "Don't punish me anymore, ok?" I ran my hands up his muscular sides, my throbbing cock shuddering at the thrills.

Without saying a word, Uncle Tom brought his big, wet, dishwater hands around behind him.

I backed away and then stared bug-eyed as he suddenly hooked his first fingers into that tiny hole and tore the whole seat of those jockeys wide open.

I fell to my knees, needing to see it, needing to have it. Uncle Tom leaned further over the sink, his muscular globes splitting. Even so, his cleft was so tight, it took both my hands to pry it apart.

"Oh, man...oh, God," I moaned, spying his dusky rose oval. He squeezed it for me, then let the segmented lens open up. Whisps of male hair ringed the sweet thing, making me dive right inside.

His muscular cheeks snapped back, trapping my whole face between those steamy, furry soccerball cheeks. My tongue went wild, licking all over, trying to get inside. I tasted talcum powder and sandalwood soap until finally I licked my way through to the flavor of freshly- showered Uncle Tom. It was hot and male and something I suddenly knew I craved so much, my hard cock thumped on the kitchen floor, demanding it have its way.

My hands grabbed at those twin swells, so muscular they didn't give at all.

Finally in frustration, I just tore those jockeys clean off him, my face still snuffling inside his hairy crease.

I smacked his hard ass, drilling my tongue right inside his virgin twat.

"Ahhhhhhh" I heard him moan.

The next thing I knew, I was shoved backwards onto the floor, looking up at a blur of male, hairy balls and towering meat. His cockhead was leaking on my tits, his thick bush still damp from his shower. His gigantic thighs quivered, and up between them I could still spy his mysterious, male taint.

When I finally managed to tear my eyes away from the sight, I looked up further, into his eyes.

He had a look on his face I'd never seen before.

He looked slightly unnerved, as though coping with forces he didn’t understand. Without speaking, he strode into the front room, mancock lancing ahead.

When I scrambled to my feet and walked in, I couldn't seem to find him.

"Over here," I heard his voice all deep and husky and quiet.

Waiting impatiently

 

[Posingstrap]

I waited until he was between the sofa and the wall, then darted in front and shoved the whole thing back, pinning him. Then I leapt onto the cushions and grabbed his shirt in both hands. A second before his huge arms stopped me, I tore the whole front of it open.

A look of surprise crossed his rugged face as we both watched those furry tits bust out.

"Why, you little fucker," he muttered. "You think your little rearend hurts now?" He almost tossed the sofa aside, climbing right over it, heading my way. “You’re in for a spanking you’ll never forget!”

I threw my arms out trying to stop his advance, my spasmed laughter breathy, my eyes drinking in his tattered wifebeater, his mountainous pecs and fat nipples staring at me. I could see the skin of his giant balls peeping through one of the holes in his ancient Fruit-of-the-Looms. His thighs flexed mightily and a thrilling, fearful excitement grabbed my heart.

"I--I didn't mean it..." I laughingly protested. "Honest!" He kept coming towards me. "Uncle Tom!--" I laughed and yelled, and saw myself getting backed into the corner, my stiff boycock tossing around.

His fierce, menacing look couldn't hide the fact that he was staring right at my shit. And even as he backed me further into the log-walled corner, his own mantool began swelling in response. I could see the expanding head pushing against the frayed cotton.

I knew then that this was all a big show. I knew then that I was turning him on.... turning him on bigtime. It brought new laughter to my lips.

"You better apologize pretty damn quick, Mr. Dude."

I got caught in a fit of bent over giggling, which managed to force a crooked smile over his wide, sexy lips.

"Well?!"

The longer he had to wait for me, the bigger and stiffer his frayed pouch was getting.

"I-I'm sorry!" I burst out laughing. “Honest! I didn’t mean it!”, I tried to stop laughing but couldn’t.

"You call that an apology?" He spread both arms out wide, anchoring them on the walls.

I was now so far into the corner, my bare ass was brushing the logs.

I stared into his twinkling green eyes. He was trying like hell to keep his faked upset going.

"I think, um, I think I'd rather be punished, sir," I reached up to tweak one of his stiff tits.

Before I knew it, I was suddenly being lifted right off my feet and up over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

"Hey!" My arms were grabbing his huge lats for dear life, my hard cock digging into his hairy armpit.

The next thing I knew, we were back in the kitchen, and I was suddenly back on my feet.

Uncle Tom tossed me the dish towel.

"What the hell...?"

He turned back toward the sink. "You want punishment?" He hummed along to some dumb country tune on the radio. He nodded at the towel. "Finish drying the damn dishes, punk."

I stood there, towel in hand--so horny my balls ached---naked and hard-cocked, pouting as he handed me a dripping bowl. This wasn’t the punishment I had in mind.

"You actually like that music?", I muttered. "Garth Brooks sucks so bad."

"Better than your lame Swifty shit."

I watched him begin whistling and moving to the beat.

Being so friggin' tall, he was bent over the sink, his tight, hard, furry soccerball cheeks tossing around---tossing right out at me---right before my ogling eyes.

Damn! There was a frayed spot dead center where I knew his segmented, fur-ringed cherry had to be. The thin cotton did nothing to hide the mystery of those dancing globes, frictioning against each other, his deeply cleft, furry crack rubbing and hiding the only thing in the whole world I wanted in that moment! And that maddening little tear almost--but not quite--let me view his tender, clenched manpussy. And all of it---all of that jockey-hiding, hard beachball butt---was swinging about to Garth like a great big gift-wrapped present.

My bigboycock began spewing fuckjuice while my bigboyballs ached from dammed-up cum.

And then....then I saw him kind of glancing back at my cock, as though he was checking to see if his ass action was having an effect.

Hell. That's when I knew it was all just a big act, a way of getting me all hot and turned on and frustrated.

I dropped the dish towel.

I started humming along to the dumb song myself, moving to the beat.

Uncle Tom stopped washing the dishes and watched me from the corner of his eye.

My eight inches twitched and brushed his frayed jockeys in time to the music. Thrills rode up my shaft to feel my dick connect with his hot, hunky ass, separated by only the thinnest cotton.

Then I heard him expel air and even give out a little sound—not a moan exactly, but not far from it.

"Oh my God", I rode my naked dick up his cotton-covered divide. "Don't punish me anymore, ok?" I ran my hands up his muscular sides, my throbbing cock shuddering at the thrills.

Without saying a word, Uncle Tom brought his big, wet, dishwater hands around behind him.

I backed away and then stared bug-eyed as he suddenly hooked his first fingers into that tiny hole and tore the whole seat of those jockeys wide open.

I fell to my knees, needing to see it, needing to have it. Uncle Tom leaned further over the sink, his muscular globes splitting. Even so, his cleft was so tight, it took both my hands to pry it apart.

"Oh, man...oh, God," I moaned, spying his dusky rose oval. He squeezed it for me, then let the segmented lens open up. Whisps of male hair ringed the sweet thing, making me dive right inside.

His muscular cheeks snapped back, trapping my whole face between those steamy, furry soccerball cheeks. My tongue went wild, licking all over, trying to get inside. I tasted talcum powder and sandalwood soap until finally I licked my way through to the flavor of freshly- showered Uncle Tom. It was hot and male and something I suddenly knew I craved so much, my hard cock thumped on the kitchen floor, demanding it have its way.

My hands grabbed at those twin swells, so muscular they didn't give at all.

Finally in frustration, I just tore those jockeys clean off him, my face still snuffling inside his hairy crease.

I smacked his hard ass, drilling my tongue right inside his virgin twat.

"Ahhhhhhh" I heard him moan.

The next thing I knew, I was shoved backwards onto the floor, looking up at a blur of male, hairy balls and towering meat. His cockhead was leaking on my tits, his thick bush still damp from his shower. His gigantic thighs quivered, and up between them I could still spy his mysterious, male taint.

When I finally managed to tear my eyes away from the sight, I looked up further, into his eyes.

He had a look on his face I'd never seen before.

He looked slightly unnerved, as though coping with forces he didn’t understand. Without speaking, he strode into the front room, mancock lancing ahead.

When I scrambled to my feet and walked in, I couldn't seem to find him.

"Over here," I heard his voice all deep and husky and quiet.

....I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, Brcre.

 

[fbneros]

Hot story

 

[thebubblegum112233]

I’m dying to see the true challenge that Tom gives to a hole. A man that size deserves the tightest holes to ruin and stretch. Not an inch can be left worshipped. He could get compared to another object so we know his size and girth and can imagine getting ruined by this insanely hairy monster cock dad