The Best Sex Ever
By Bald Hairy Man e-mail bldhrymn@aol.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com
This is a story about adult men intended for adult men. It is a fantasy, so I again remind you that I have done away with the requirements of safe sex, and have included no gestures toward common sense either. If you have any suggestion or comments, please e-mail me.
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Tom's Tale
Some people name a new town after a great man or an important older city. Names like Washington, Oxford or New York are supposed to be inspirational. I live in Lumberville, Virginia. Lumberville is pretty much what you would expect. It has a main street with a Dollar General, a school and 4,500 inhabitants.
It is an hour's drive from just about everything. I am the librarian for the county's Lumberville Branch library. We are in an old A & P store. It isn't exactly a dream come true job. With the economy, it was the best I could do. I'm Tom Jones and I am 50 years old. I had a great job in a major library, but I was downsized along with 40% of the staff.
Finding a job for an over qualified middle-aged man was a bear. I had always lived modestly so I could make do with the poor salary. I was also lucky that I loved books and I could entertain myself. I was an only child of older parents and I had always found enjoyment in books.
I was use to going to plays, concerts and lectures regularly. That didn't happen in Lumberville. I was also use to talking to people about subjects of mutual interests. People in Lumberville would talk, but finding subjects of mutual interest was a problem. People tended to gossip and chat more than talk.
We had a book club for retired people and a Women's Book Club, but we also had an aggressive Baptist minister who tended to run the show. He told me he didn't approve of any advanced or smutty books. He also told me he was a good friend of the head of the Library Board. I got the message. He was also worried that I wasn't married. He didn't exactly say that, but he looked askance.
The library wasn't overused by any means, but the owner of a local mill had endowed the facility, so we remained open in spite of the limited use. I was in when the Presbyterian Minister came to see me. I was afraid it was another "why aren't you married" kind of visit. Rev. Fromer had another problem. His church sponsored an adult literacy program. The area had been noted for its poor educational system. While it was greatly improved, there were many people over forty who were unable to read.
"Mr. Jones, some men are too embarrassed to come to the church for help. Everyone knows we have the program. They don't want anyone to know they can't read. I was hoping you could make the Library available?" he asked. Of course, I told him that was no problem at all. I had an office and a workroom that were available if privacy was needed.
"I was also hoping you could help with the tutoring," Rev. Fromer added.
"I have no training in that sort of thing at all," I said.
Rev. Fromer was a convincing man. I agreed to give it a try. Two days later, Fromer appeared with another man named Randy Sutleaf. Randy worked at the mill on the night shift. We didn't get that many full-blown red necks in the library. I don't know if there are Ultra-Rednecks or Mega-Rednecks, but if they did, Randy would have been one. He was a fat, six-feet-three inches tall and wearing a well-worn plaid shirt and suspender supported jeans.
I was uneasy. "Why don't you two men get acquainted," Fromer said. "I have an appointment in ten minutes, I'll check back later." Fromer left me alone with Randy.
We went to my office. "I take it you have a problem reading?" I asked.
"If you mean, can I read, the answer is no," he said. "I never got the hang of it. I'm in line to get a foreman's job. I need to read and write reports and stuff like that," he said. "I can't do it."
"If you could bring in some of the things you need to read, I might be able to help with that," I said. "What sort of things would you like to read?"
"Nothing really," Randy said.
"Do you have hobbies like hunting and fishing? Maybe you like NASCAR?" I asked.
"I guess I like all of that," he said. I went to the periodical area and brought back some magazines.
He opened one of the fishing ones and found an impressive fish. We went to work on the caption. Much to my relief, he was interested. We spent a half-hour and I thought that was enough. I told him to bring back examples of things he had to read for work.
Two days later, he appeared at the library door. I was relieved. Randy was a bit beaten up. Lumbering is all splinters, cuts and bruises. He oddly had a neatly trimmed beard. I found out the well-groomed beard was so it wouldn't get caught in the equipment. Nothing else about him was well groomed. He didn't shave at all; he used scissors. His beard was continuous from his chin to his navel. Most of the buttons on his shirt were gone, so you saw his chest and gut pelt.
We went over one of the required reports. I went over it and explained what was on the report. I soon realized Randy wasn't stupid. He had looked at the reports as a mass of stuff he couldn't read. I broke it down into sections such as the number of men on the job, and the number of men calling in sick. You had to give the amount of overtime, etc. I think he could read at a fourth or fifth grade level. That was all the basic report needed. Randy seemed to relax some after I explained that.
After a month of work, Randy was doing well. I wasn't sure he had ever tried to read anything of interest. He had a bad experience with poor teachers in school and he had given up. I found out the Sutleaf family was a local legend known for its limited intelligence. My personal thinking was a clannish stubbornness was at the root of the problem. The clan had an "us versus them" attitude, a schools were defiantly in the "them" category.
Randy wanted the foreman's job badly and we got along well. Given that we shared no common interests and experiences, we did well. Over the course of several months, I changed from viewing him as an ultra redneck to being a trained bear and eventually as a human being.
Living in Lumberville was lonely for me. Few shared my interests and there weren't many ways to meet people. Part of that was me; I am shy and not particularly outgoing. The rest of the problem was Lumberville. Everyone made friends in grade school. The people you knew in first grade were the people you knew for the rest of your life. To a large extent, you had your parents and grandparents' circle of friends. Most people didn't know how to add friends from outside this circle of family and acquaintances. No one did this to reject new residents; they just didn't have much experience dealing with new people.
Randy and I weren't friends, but we did talk. When my car needed to be fixed, he knew where to go. He knew who to talk to at the courthouse to get my car registered. I also found out I wasn't supposed to be associating with members of the Sutleaf family. They weren't the sort of people with whom the good people associated. The Sutleafs were much opposed to "putting on airs." Putting on airs seemed to include reading, or any sort of self-improvement.
One morning, my car was T-boned at the town traffic light. Lumberville had the only traffic light in the county and local Driver's Ed classes always visited the town for the experience. One of the kids seemed to miss the principle of the red light. Another student in the rear seat was acting up and the Drivers Ed teacher was dealing with that. He took his eye off the driver.
The student hit the driver's side and totaled the car, trapping me between the crushed door and the central console. The Rescue squad was good and very professional and got me out after a half hour. I had a broken arm, shoulder and hip. I got points with the rescue squad for being calm and helpful. I suspect that may have been shock, but I didn't tell them that. I was in the hospital for a few days. There was a sling and brace, but the doctors told me, I would just have to grin and bear my broken hip. It would heal on its own.
After a week and a half at home, I went back to work. Sitting down was not good and I moved very slowly. I lived in a rented a house a few blocks from the library, so I could walk to work. Since I worked for the county and the school was county too, the insurance stuff was easy.
The student driver was Ernie Sutleaf, one of Ronnie's cousins. It had been his first day in the car and he has simply screwed up. The Sutleafs thought I was going to sue them. It was an accident, not a crime. Lawsuits are a problem for persons with deep pockets. I wasn't sure the Sutleafs possessed any pockets that didn't have hole in them already. The family was use to having problems with the law. When I was nice about the accident, they became beholden to me.
Ernie's mother or a sister came over every few days to clean up and do laundry. Ernie took care of the yard. Rev. Fromer's church provided food. Randy was really helpful. He came by each morning to see how I was doing and to get me showered and off to work. Showering was difficult at first since everything hurt. I tried getting in the shower alone, but I was too unstable for that. Randy joined me. That worked out well. I was too worried about falling to take much notice of him. The showers were a lot of work, but I couldn't feel clean with a sponge bath. After a shower, I felt human again.
A week later, I was doing much better. Randy didn't need to be there, but it was easier with him there. He looked good naked. I thought he was fat. I was wrong about that; he was muscular. He also had a nice big cock. By big I mean thick. His cock head and balls were about the same size and formed a trio of balls held tight at his groin. He was uncut and the skin was thick too. Everything about Randy was chunky.
I am much smaller than Randy was, but I had a big cock. In my case, I mean long and thick, and my golf balls sized balls were in a low hanging sack. He washed everything thing, but that caused no reaction from my genitals. I felt too bad to respond. That changed too. The first time I got hard, I apologized. I wasn't fully erect, but I was obviously excited.
"Shit, Tommy, if I had your equipment, I show it off every where I could!" Randy said. Needless to say, the next time we showered, I was fully erect. Randy liked that. His interest didn't impress me as being sexual; it was more like a botanist finding an unusual flower. As for me, having a big lumberjack type guy admire my cock was just fine.
Randy also began to spend more time cleaning my cock and my ass. He noticed that when he played with my ass, I got hard.
"You kind of like that don't you?" he asked.
"I do," I replied. There is no way to deny it when Randy had his finger at my hole and my cock was drooling.
"If I work my finger in deeper, will you shoot off?" he asked.
"That might happen," I replied.
"I'd like to watch that, he said. He dropped to his knees and eased his finger deeper into my ass. That was when I discovered Randy knew where the prostate was located. He used it as a small punching bag for a little while. Randy had lied to be about one thing. He didn't want to watch me shoot off; he wanted to eat my semen. When I began to spurt Randy took my load.
With his mouth on my cock and his finger on my prostate, he milked me until he drained every drop of semen from my body.
"Damn, I could have skipped breakfast! You shoot a big one," Randy exclaimed as he licked his lips of my sperm. I laughed.
"Do you do this often?" I asked.
"It's been a long while," he said. "I use to mess around when I was younger. I've never taken man seed for anyone who wasn't related."
"Was it good?"
"It sure was," he said. "Was it good for you?"
"It was great," I replied. "It's been a long time." I paused. "I assume you knew that I'm gay?"
"I never thought about it much," he said. "I'm not gay, but I like to suck cock." he paused. "I kind of liked to be sucked too."
"If this is true confessions time, I like to suck, and I love to be fucked," I said. I looked down at his cock; it was six inches hard and almost as wide. "I've never taken a cock as thick as yours."
"I've never ass fucked a man, but I guess I'm willing to learn new tricks," he said. I wanted to get on my knees and suck him, but I slipped instead. He caught men. We got out of the shower and I got dressed. When he dropped my off at the Library I asked, "Will you back tomorrow at the usual time?"
"I sure a shit will!" he said with enthusiasm.
I felt good for the rest of the day. That night Rev. Fromer brought food. I told him I would like to be a bit more independent. He said he understood. "You know it's not a chore for us. You are a hit with the ladies. All the dishes come back spic and span. I do understand the need to get back into the swing of things."
"Mrs. Sutleaf does the cleaning," I said. "The Sutleafs may be the town pariahs, but they have been good for me." We chatted a little longer and reduced the food deliveries to three times a week. The worked out well.
Randy arrived at his usual time and we had a nice long session in the shower. Afterward we went to the bed and he straddled my face and fed me his cock. I hadn't sucked a cock in a long time, and I hadn't sucked a new cock in an even longer time. I was a little worried. I had never sucked a man while he was shooting. I wasn't sure I would like it and I was afraid I might choke. I didn't mind precum much, but the creamy stuff was a bit scary.
Randy oozed a lot of precum. I hadn't remembered precum tasting as good as his was. Usually, I liked licking the edges of the cock head and avoided the oozing slit. His knob was huge and the slit wide. My lips grabbed the edge of his knob while my tongue probed the slit. Every time I did, I coaxed more of his rich juices from his balls. By the time he began to spurt I wanted richer brew.
Randy's entire body twitched as he ejaculated. It was as if every molecule in his body was joining in the effort to eject his man seed from his body. He flooded my mouth with the steamy cream. We both relaxed as the ejaculations diminished. For the next month or so, this became our daily ritual. We were two happy men.
I was out of the sling a month after the accident. The doctor told me my hip had healed. The broken collarbone was slower to heal, but it didn't hurt that bad. There was one odd side effect. Randy and I had exchanged buckets of sperm, but somehow my ass felt left out. I had mentioned I liked it in the ass. With my broken hip, that didn't seem like a good idea.
My desire for Randy's cock grew as my hip healed. After the shower on a Sunday morning, Randy was flat on the bed with his cock sticking straight up. I had some lube and coated it.
"Are you sure you want to try it?" Randy asked. I said yes. He was uneasy, but not so uneasy as to lose his erection. I straddled his bloated organ, placed it at my hole and sat back on it. I didn't open up right away. It took a few bounces. Randy stroked my cock. I almost ejaculated and as I did, my ass relaxed. His head popped through my sphincter. A second or two later I was fucked.
I wasn't fucked as much as I was stuffed. There was no room to spare; his cock filled every inch of my ass. Randy moved a little and if felt as if electric sex impulses raced through my body. Every movement was unbelievably pleasurable. I moaned and whimpered some, but most of all I felt. I was in my own little world when Randy began to shiver and shake and I felt him spurting his sperm in my ass. He had joined me in that little world. My cock gave up the fight and let lose. I had my first hands free orgasm.
It was very messy. His hairy torso was covered in a Jackson Pollack like splatter on my semen. I collected some on a finger and fed him. Randy collected some and fed it to me. I knew his cock was meant for my ass. I felt complete skewered on his butt plug. I looked him in the eye. He knew that too.