Jason's First Workout Ð Chapter VII Ð "A Fresh Start"
Dear Readers: I apologize if the last chapter got a bit long with backstory and hope the limited sex scenes managed to get you going. I know why we are all here, after all. But since I genuinely love these characters, it's hard (no pun intended) for me to put aside some of their emotional fulfillment too. Thanks for all of the emails and the encouragement to keep these going. Please keep reading, and if you enjoy this story, and the site, remember to give what you can back to Nifty so that we can all continue to get off here! Best, Coach Luke. Olcoach44@gmail.com
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(Updated to present day: Luke age 56, Brock 48, Jason 34). Luke:
I stood in the lightening kitchen with the day's first steaming cop of coffee in my hand. I'd managed to extricate myself from the two hairy, snoring bodies in my bed just before dawn. Reaching the hallway, I'd felt the tell-tale sign of being well-fucked by both my boys as someone's mixed load started running down my leg. I snuck into the guest bath and managed to clean myself up, then head out to the kitchen to drink my 33 ounces of water, and lace up my running shoes by the back door before heading out for my 3-mile run just at dawn. My ass was sore and my pounding head felt worse, but the run cleared my head and allowed me to think about the night's activities. Too much tequila and sweaty man-sex. It had been like old times, and I was grateful. But the dawn brought my worries back again. Jason had needed both of us, I knew that. Still, I did not regret Brock's and my decision to kick him out of our bed and welcome him into our family more than 12 years ago. Why was last night any different, and why'd we chuck our established boundaries so quickly?
Honestly, as damn sexy of a man as Jason had grown up to be, I was as eager to comfort our boy last night as to fuck him. After the first round, when we'd stood around eating naked, I saw a smile, a genuine smile on his face, for what I realized must've been the first time in a really long time. Our second and third rounds in the bedroom had been just as hot and cum-filled. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be truly, royally fucked, and I was feeling my boy's evidence still in my sore ass. Over the years, Brock's tendency to like bottoming had grown into a routine, and because of his cock size, I rarely bottomed anymore. Maybe that's why our recent experiments had been so fun? He'd gotten to top, too?
Anyway, taking Jason's thick dick, and Brock's monster back to back had been fucking amazing (with the help of some poppers) and sometimes I realized, it might just be easier to be a fucking bottom!
Nah, who was I kidding. I was wired to be a top, even if my damn fuck-buddy in my shorts didn't always fire on all cylinders these days. I opened the slider and sat out on the deck, enjoying the still-cool late summer morning and drank my coffee. I wasn't sure how we should move forward. For sure, Jason would probably want to move into the garage apartment and not into the house, soon. I doubted he'd want to stay bed-buddies with his dads for much longer, and maybe we shouldn't encourage him. He needed to feel loved, and he definitely needed the release last night. It felt like a one-time thing. Jay also needed to move on. To forget Bradford Clayton Daley, IV (that piece of shit baseball has-been) and his Grindr twinks and maybe find real happiness again. Or to fuck his way through the phone book for a while like his little brother? Sheesh, these boys of mine. How'd I get so damned lucky?
I waited to hear the men moving around before I made my protein shake but the sun was almost above the maple in the backyard before Brock made his wait out to join me, his Duke travel mug in his hand.
"Morning, handsome," he said.
"Hey Bud," I said. "How you feeling?"
"Honestly? A little sore. A little satisfied, and, maybe a bit more confused."
"I don't think we have to worry. He needed us. We came through. Three times in fact!" I teased.
He laughed, "Yeah - the fucking isn't the thing, although yeah, Damn! You're right. I justÉ I don't know. As hot as that shit was last night, and let's admit, I must've thought about it at some level when I broke out the tequila. But I really, really like having that man call me Dad. I do not want to fuck that up." He stated emphatically.
"Wow," I offered back. "I don't think I've ever heard you be so serious about it. I mean, I know you love him, but I always thought it was because I did too, sort of like my boys, butÉ" I faltered.
"Yeah," he said. But different. "Look Luke, I know you're probably pissed that Jason and I have had some conversations about this off and on, and that I didn't tell you, but honestly, he made me promise, and a promise is a promise. And besides, he had you pegged. You would have worried the shit out of this problem and then probably gone out there and cut that boy's dick off!"
"I said last night that I understood, "I stated deeply, "And I meant that, dammit. You, obviously, were what he needed. I'm glad he had someone to turn to and felt it could be you. I'm not jealous or upset by that."
"Hmmph," he grunted. "Not even a little bit?" He gave me that penetrating blue-eyed stare of his, the silver in his day-old growth catching the morning light across his broad, cleft chin. Damn, he still took my breath away just to look at.
"Fuck you," I added softly. "Maybe a little jealous. But seriously, thanks for taking such good care of him."
"Since we're sharing deep, dark secrets, and apparently, cumÉ" he shifted on the glider next to me where he'd been perched on the deck. I laughed.
"Someone needs to clean out?" I asked.
"Yeah, that boy is potent. And that wasn't a small load you gave me the first time!"
"I hit the guest room this morning before my run and cleaned up the old-fashioned way. Maybe we need to update the guest room shower and add a wand in there too," I added.
"Nah. We're not going to have this many fuckers in the house all the time. That's just wishful thinking," he snorted. "I'll clean up in bit. No, I wanted to tell you this because you and I have built a life on not keeping secrets, and all of this last night just reminded me of something that I probably should've told you a long time ago," Brock said flatly.
I sat up, putting my coffee cup down on the table beside us, my stomach heaving uncertainly. "What is it?" I asked, hesitantly. He looked at me deeply and started,
"Remember when we decided we loved the boy, but we didn't want him as a fuck-toy. We were just starting out?" Brock asked.
"I remember that time all very clearly, yes," I said.
"Well," he began, "before I asked you to marry me, I sort of asked Jason."
"What?" I stammered. "You asked Jason to marry you first?"
"No, man," he laughed, correcting me, "I sort of asked his permission. I mean, I asked Chase too. If it was okay, I mean. But Jason was different. He was still kind of pouty half the time about us, he had the biggest damn crush on you still, and I wanted him to know that in our lives he would still have a place, so we sort of cut a deal."
"What kind of a deal?" I asked firmly.
"Don't get your back, up," Brock intoned. "I told Jason my plans and he was happy for us. Thrilled actually. And I told him a lot about myself. How I'd been the workaholic through med school. Then the fuckboy through most of internships, and then the loose, fuck all the jocks' young doctor through my 30s, andÉ"
"Why do I always get the feeling that this sexual prowess of yours gets larger and larger in your memory the older we both get?" I interrupted. "Well, I was damn hot and had a reputation! But stop interrupting me. We'd pushed the boy out on his own, and I told him a bit about being a whore, and honestly, how it finally left a hole in me. And that, despite you being the opposite of what I thought I'd ever want (recently married now separated, most of his life closeted, two kids Ð all that stuff) I never could deny the connection, the electricity, I felt when you and I were together. And that I'd bought a ring and was going to ask you to marry me, and even if we couldn't legally at that time, we'd figure it out. I was trying to tell him that he could sow some oats, but I wanted him to eventually find, to know, what we had." Brock went on.
"You know, I forget what a damned romantic you are sometimes. Why don't you tell me that stuff all the time, dammit?" I demanded.
"Hell, half the time I feel like you're reading my mind and I don't even have to talk. But you're right, I should say it more often," Brock agreed.
"Me too," I whispered, leaning in for a lingering kiss, ignoring the coffee breath, and feeling the slight tingle of his whisker-edged lips against mine. "God, I love you, Stud."
"Love you, too, Big guy." Brock answered. "But anyway, I was saying. I told Jason all of this back then but I said, if anything ever went sideways between you and me, especially with maybe your boys... I mean, I didn't really know them well at that point and wasn't sure how they would take news of their "newly Gay" Dad now engaged. But I thought then, and maybe not true now, that if something happened, you'd always pick your kids over me, because, well, they are your flesh and blood."
"B, you know I love my boys. And they were still just teenagers then, "I started. "Damn. I don't know. I loved you. I said, `yes' to you. I'd like to think I wouldn't have let them come between us. Maybe I was scared for a while that could happen. Damn. I'm not sure. I'm glad it never did."
Brock continued. "Jason understood your reasoning for not wanting him to call you Dad. He didn't want to come between you and the boys, and you and he already had this sort of mentor/fuck-bud thing going on and he'd already started calling you Doc. I just told him, if we were going to be a family Ð all of us- he could be mine."
"What do you mean, he would be yours?" I tensed.
"In this gay Brady-Bunch you and I were forming, I asked him to be my son. To call me Dad. Honestly, I may have been a bit jealous too. You were so damn good with your boys, and with Jason. I wanted to try, to, I don't knowÉ Put someone else's needs first. I mean, that's why I wanted to get married but yeah, I asked him if he'd be my son, knowing I could never replace the birth dad that he'd lost, and that I'd never replace what you and he had already, but it would be different. I wanted to be the rock he could depend on. And now, for almost 13 years, I've tried to be that." Brock said, his voice catching. "Wow," I whispered into his ear, pulling him into me. "You are fucking Superman."
"No," he joked back. "Superman has been fucking me for years!"
"Stop it." I pulled back, looking him dead in the face. "Don't joke that away. Damn, why didn't you ever tell me this? I thought I couldn't ever love you more than I do, and then I just keep seeing more and more."
"He was always going to be `our' boy no matter what. But I asked him to be my best man, knowing you'd eventually ask your boys to stand up with you, when and if we did it. And yes, we waited a few years until we could "officially" thank Obergefell get married, but it was still pretty damn special. Chase and Sam are yours by blood, and Jason's mine by his choice. We love them all equally, but differently."
"Well." I sighed, still somewhat gob-smacked. "I'd say we should go back to bed so I could make mad, passionate love to you all morning, but there's a 200 pound blonde stud snoring in our bed."
"Thanks Doc," Jason exclaimed, walking out of the house and onto the deck in just a white jock strop showing under some loose gym shorts. He was freshly showered and smelling of sunshine and his signature cologne. " It's probably closer to 190. I'm assuming the stud you mentioned is MOI?"
We laughed. "yes, and he's humble too," I droned deeply.
"I just wanted to say," Jason began. Then sat down on the Adirondack chair to my right and carefully, studiously placed his coffee cup on the arm. He cleared his throat and began again, "I just wanted to say, thanks for last night. I know you guys were just trying to cheer me up. And it was fucking fantastic to get out of my own head for a change, butÉ"
"But what?" Brock asked.
"You guys are the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. If I didn't have you two in my life, Fuck, I have no idea. You've taught me what it means to be a gay man. Have a gay family. Damn, it's no secret I want to be like both of you and have tried for more than a decade. But just now, when I was getting my coffee and watching you both out here. I mean, part of me wanted to tell you both to get a room!"
We all laughed. "Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, show me the steep and thorny way to heaven whilst like a puffed and reckless libertine himself the primrose path of dalliance treads and wrecks not his own rede!" I quoted.
"Twelve hours, Dad! I told you, less than one day and he'd quote Shakespeare to me for every life lesson." Jay said, "but seriously, I'm not being prudish. That's just it, Doc. My reaction this morning Ð it was like watching my two Dads make out. Probably the same reaction Chase has when he sees it. I mean, I still chubbed up because let's face it, you two are still smoking hotÉ" Brock reached over and patted my leg, as Jason continued, "but I don't want to be your fuck-buddy."
"Ouch," Brock mocked.
"I like being your son too much to ever go back there again," Jason asserted. "And I know, you wanted me to feel better and you haven't offered anythingÉdifferent, even though that maybe something you two are into nowÉ but for me. I think I just want to move into the apartment. Drive up the mountain and check on the cabin later, and then decide what the fuck to do with the rest of my life."
Again, I was a bit gobsmacked by the men in my life. I looked at Brock and then said, "Jason, you can do whatever you want. You're a grown man. Your Dad and I will always love you and respect your decision. We were all a bit drunk last night, and you're right, we just wanted you to feel better. We're not going to be the judge of who or what to do with our grown kids anymore."
"Thanks Doc. I know that," Jason added. "Look, I'm sorry about that. Chase mentioned that there was a strange car starting to be here, staying overnight once or twice a month. He's the one who spilled the beans that you may have a third guy you played with now."
"What the fuck?" I stammered out.
"What your father, meant to say," Brock cut me off, squeezing my thigh with his left paw, "was that we're all grown men. What we do privately, together or apart, is nobody's Goddamned business. Now, what you and your younger brother choose to gossip about is up to you. I'm not going to comment on my and your father's personal life. Just like I wouldn't comment to you on the number of Twin Peak's waitresses and other women I've seen stagger down the driveway over the last few months leaving Chase's loft in the garage."
Jason began to laugh. "It does seem like all of you decided to break quarantine and embrace fucking more. But I'm serious, Dads. I love you both. Last night was great. It was really special for me, but I don't want it to happen again. I can't let it, okay?"
"Okay, son," Brock said, "It's always your choice."
"I know, Dad. Chase warned me that if I moved into the apartment, I might not ever leave. He called it the "Love Bubble" around here. I'm not sure you guys know how much we all love you. He really appreciated your taking care of him and letting him stay. It was hard for him to leave," Jason told us.
"Well, it was time." I said. "Sometimes, we have to push you guys back out of the nest. I'm glad you're man enough to decide you don't need to climb back into it."
"I'm okay, Doc. After one of my marathon calls with Chase from the road this week, I already called Dr. Patterson and set up an appointment for next week. She's agreed to help me talk through stuff."
"You talked to Maggie?" I questioned. I was shocked. Dr. Margaret Patterson had been my psychotherapist when I first came out and through the time before and after my divorce. Over the years, we'd become personal friends after I was no longer her patient, but I cherished her advice and friendship.
"Yeah, little Bro suggested it." Jason added. "He texted me her contact info. Said he'd met with her a few times since he'd moved back home too."
"Well, I'm glad he could call on her," I said, still a bit shocked. "I thought Chase was doing well, aside from the possible nymphomaniaÉ"
"Well, he struggles a bit from being the only single straight guy around here, and maybe the constant teasing," Jason retorted. "And he was smart enough to get some help, Doc. You of all people should appreciate that!'
I was stunned a bit. Jason had never been one to push back on anything I said or talk back too sharply. I looked at this grown man a bit more questioningly.
"You're defending your little brother?" I asked.
"Always. That's what big brothers do, don't they?" Jason shot back.
"Yeah. They do," I said, still a bit startled. I started to get up, but Brock pulled me back down.
"What we mean to say is, we love you, Bud," Brock said. "and we're happy you're back. I'm assuming you want us to start unloading that trailer that's tackying up my driveway?"
I breathed out a sigh, and was grateful that Brock, ever the strong, silent peacemaker had cleared the air. "Let's get started," I demanded.
"It won't take too long," Jason added. "I only need to move a few things upstairs and to unpack there. Most of the long-term stuff I plan to take to the cabin in a few days. I have the trailer for five more days."
"About that," Brock added. "Son, when we called last spring about the cabin. Your dad and I did get the downed tree cut and cleaned up and we had the roof and the leak fixed. The cabin is waterproof now and repaired, but we don't go up very often to check on it. Dad tries to check the gate at least once per month, but it may be pretty musty up there. And for sure it will need a good spring cleaning and inspection before you'd want to move in. Are you thinking of moving in there permanently?" Brock asked hesitantly.
"I don't know yet, Dad. That's part of what this figuring it out looks like. I just don't know yet," Jason answered honestly.
I walked over and hugged the broad shoulders of this man. "Your dad needs a shower. He's got `leakage.' What say you and I get started with the unloading? He'd only get in our way anyway."
"Thanks boys," Brock said as he bounced into the house toward the showers, eager to let us handle things, or maybe eager to leave us alone.
"Look Doc, I'm sorry if I was a little blunt earlierÉ" Jason began. I put my hand on his mouth.
"I'm proud of you, son. I'd always hoped you and my boys could become true brothers at some point. I guess I never realized how fierce that would be if I tried to get between you. I love that you stood up for Chase. And I'll call him later today." I said as much to myself as to him. "I know I expect a lot of all of my boys. But never apologize for being who you are. Now let's get to work before it gets any hotter."
A few days later Ð Jason:
I was stunned by the pastoral beauty of my mountains, of being home again, as I drove up the winding four-lane toward the verdant Blue Ridge and my cabin. Without even trying I could conjure up Luke's rich baritone in my head, quoting: "the Earth has music for those who listenÉ" I could hear it as I took my first exit, hit the two-lane west back into the holler, and then drove on a few more miles. There was the old black mailbox and the gravel drive. I turned left into the road expecting to park and unlock the gate. Instead, I was surprised to find a green park service truck parked there. I tried to pulled up beside the truck with my Jeep even though whomever had left his truck here had done so squarely in the middle of the lane. I grabbed the couple of bags from the back and one of Brock's tool boxes, locked the Jeep, walked around the gate's post and started up the few hundred yards of drive toward the cabin. Why would a park service truck be here, I wondered? The 11.3 acre tract I owned backed up to the Nantahala National Forest land but the service folks had their own roads and logging tracks in and out. I'd have to call the dads and ask once I got back out on the highway and had a decent cell signal. I knew from years of experience I wouldn't be able to call from the cabin.
When I turned off the track and saw the house nestled in the mountain laurel, it took my breath away. My heart swelled to see it, though it was a bit forlorn with its weathered cedar siding and shake roof. There were limbs and leaves blown onto the front porch, and evidence of something that had scratched around the left stone column below it. As I approached, I could hear the loud, strong ripple of the creek down below. It had been a wetter than normal summer, the Dads had told me, so I shouldn't be surprised to hear it this late in the season. It, too, sounded like home. I breathed in the crisp mountain air, mounted the stone steps, opened the screen door and put my key into the series of deadbolts and locks on the front door. An alarm system was shaky at best here in the mountains, and years ago Brock and I had decided it wouldn't be worth installing. We'd put up the locked gate, and he and Doc would try to check on the house as often as they could.
I gasped as I entered the house. It was muggy and stale inside, smelling of dust and decay. Too long shut up. But the stone fireplace in the big common room was as I left it, the kitchen and sitting room to my right, and the two bedrooms, one slightly larger than the other on my left separated by the only bathroom. The large, oversized windows and French doors I'd installed years ago looked out onto the back deck and the mountainside behind. I saw movement through the French doors there and was shocked to see a man in park service shirt and jeans out on my back deck! "What the fuck," I wondered? I set down my bags and put the tool box on the farm table and started toward the back doors when the man moved a bit and I got a cleared view of him through the dusty windows. Holy shit! The guy was jerking off on my back deck. I ducked back into the open kitchen area to sneakily view him around the wall. Why miss a free show because this wasn't just any guy.' He was built like a brick shit house. He had to be at least 6' 1" or 2", broad shouldered, narrow waisted in somewhat loose jeans, and man, that was a nice boner he was pulling out of his zipper. It had to be about 9", uncut, and he surrounded by dark pubes sticking out. This guy wasn't a groomer' I could tell. There was a patch of dark chest hair sporting out of the service shirt he was wearing, and it gripped his large biceps on each arm, both covered in dark fur. His shaggy beard had to have been 4 to 5 inches long under his chin which was now pulled back and up, his head tilted, as he widened his strong-legged stance, arched his back, and then shuffled to shoot his load over the deck railing and into my back yard. Man, the ass on this guy too.
"Holy Fuck!" I muttered to myself again as I groped my hard on through my khaki shorts. I watched the chest muscles in his back roll and heave as he hunched forward, clearly shaking his load out of that award-winning cock. I tried to tame my guy back into my pants, straightening my t-shirt and then looking at my fade in the mirror over the mantle. "Wait, could he have seen me in that mirror?" I thought. No way. Why was I checking out my hair in the mirror?
I walked deliberately to the French doors, turned the two locks and stepped out onto my back deck. The debris and mess I saw strewn there distracted me for a moment, but then I said, "Mind telling me what you're doing on my property?"
"Shit!" The man exclaimed, turning toward me. He had just gotten his shrinking, but still rather impressive member stuffed back into his jeans and was zipping up as he faced me. Based on his reaction, there was no way he could have heard or seen me in the house. Maybe my arrival had been masked by the sound of the creek. "I didn't think anyone lived here anymore," he answered in a deep, rich Southern baritone that almost made my dick harden immediately. The R sound in "more" drawled into more of a deep "moahhh."
"Still," I demanded, "you don't live here, so it seems like the NC Park Service wouldn't want you pissing off some stranger's back porch now would they?" I decided to pretend I hadn't seen him jerking off and just assume he'd had to piss. We'd handle the details later.
"No suh," he countered. "I expect, um, they would not. I should have, um, stepped into the woods to, ah, piss, but I'd rather not have her scent my track too much."
"Her who? Scent? What are you talking about?" I asked, trying not to sound too petulant because this guy was definitely my type, but I was also getting the straight, Southern good-ol' boy vibe all over him. He stepped back, showing me some equipment that I now saw set up under a rear eave of the porch in one of the few clean areas.
"I apologize. I did talk to someone out here last spring, a Dr. Goodman I think he said his name was," he drawled on. "At that point, he gave me permission to set up some of my equipment here, and also some additional motion-activated cameras across the property that adjoins our park land here." Now he seemed somewhat nervous, or maybe just upset that I interrupted his good orgasm?
"Yes, Dr. Goodman is my father. My, uh, adoptive father actually, but this is my property. It belonged to my biological parents and my grandparents before their deaths. My Dads have been checking on it while I've been out west for a number of years," I stated flatly.
"Your dads?" He asked incredulously. Oh, here we go, I thought. Welcome back to the South. I was ready for the redneck homophobia.
"Yes, Dr. Goodman is married to my other adoptive father, Dr. Smyth down in Greenville." I stated, looking him square in the eye and daring him to say anything.
"Wow. Okay, um, cool. Anyway, my equipmentÉ is it, uh, okay if I continue to leave it here? I mean, most of the cameras are solar powered but with the terrain I can't always get a cellular or satellite signal and I have to come here to download my data. There's not really a place along this track that's sheltered. The one house a few miles from here, is also down in that holler, so it's too far from her established track line."
"Wait a minute?" I asked. "You keep saying, her? Who are we talking about?"
"Sorry, it's not a person. She's a female. I mean, it's a female." He almost stammered. Damn, this guy had the sexiest blue eyes and whitest teeth. Was it all that brown fur around his mouth that made him so sexy, or was I just so hard up I had to have sex with my Dads or queer out over some forestry guy in the woods?
"What? I mean, sorry" I said, as I realized his mouth was moving but I wasn't hearing the words, "I zoned out for a second," I said stupidly. "What did you say?"
"She's a panther. Cougar Felis. Still considered extinct in the wild in North Carolina, but I have her on camera. Whether she was a release or escapee into the wild, we don't know yet, but I'm documenting data for my study that could be earth-shattering for our understanding of wildcats and their current existence with man's habitat." He began to talk excitedly. Wow, this guy was getting really riled up telling me of his research. And I was thinking I could just listen to him talk all damn day because it was clear he didn't talk much, unless it was about, wait a minute? Did he say a panther? "Did you just say there is a damn wildcat walking around my house?"
He laughed, a deep rumbling rich sound, and I swear to God my cock fully hardened in my cargo shorts. This man was incredible. Beautiful really. And clearly, smart, at least when it came to mountain lions.
"Yes," he began. "I've spent about 10 years in parts of Florida looking into panther habitats there and the last 6 or so back here near where I grew up working on so-called `sightings'. The camera footage I got last year was the first time anyone has been able to document a true cat here in more than 40 years. Her track and habitat covers almost 1,000 square miles by my estimate but the last six weeks is when everything has really started picking up on my search."
"Wow," I spurted dumbly, lost in the deepest blue eyes I could remember ever seeing. I had stepped a bit closer, egged on by the excitement in his rich voice, so close that now I could also track his scent, a mix of man-musk, sweat, and what? Pine? Was that just the mountains or had my heady hormones and the sense of being at home and the site of my early sexual adventures got the better of me? He smiled, and glanced me over toe to head, chuckling.
"Um, don't take this the wrong way, but did something I say get you all excited?" he asked.
"What?" I stammered.
"That's a damn fine piece of meat you got there," he breathily stated, reaching out and grasping the front of my shorts and holding my cock. I took a gulp of breath and then leaned into him, inhaling his musk from even closer.
"I, uh, I didn't expect thisÉ" I started to say, as he pulled me into him fully, pressing his full, thick lips onto mine, scratching my chin with his luxurious beard and locking me into a muscular hold. I ground my cock into him, allowing him to ravish my mouth with his. Damn, he felt even better in my arms. Strong! I could feel the taut muscles in his back and the strength of his biceps hugging me in his grasp. His core was just as tight against me and I had to tilt my head slightly into his kiss because of his 3 to 4 inch height advantage. I inhaled again sharply? What was it about this man's scent that sent my senses really and my cock leaking? And the hair? I wasn't usually into bears but damn, this guy seemed to be covered in the sexiest, brown man-fur ever grown. I pulled back in his grasp, gasping for air after his hungry kisses, and trying to calm myself.
"Damn!" I breathed. "Give me a minute. I justÉ" He began to pull away.
"I'm sorry, if I overstepped. I mean, your cock was right there, andÉ" He halted.
"No, it's okay. Yeah, I mean, I didn't think you were into guys when I first met you, but yeah, I was definitely sexing out at the sight of you." I jumped in. "Would you like to take this inside?" I asked hesitantly.
"You sure?" he asked.
"Fuck yeah." I stated definitely, sounding surer than I was.
"You need to know. Um, it's been a while for me. I mean, since I've been with another guy," he offered.
"Oh. No worries. Actually, it's been a while for me too," I said, erasing the memory of sex with my Dads days before. "And I thought you just shot a load off of my porch," I teased, grabbing him by his large, callused left hand and pulling him into the cabin.
"Wait. What?" he stammered. "You saw that? I thought you thought I'd just had a piss."
"I saw the entire thing. That's all I could think of when you were going on about wildcats,"
"Panthers!" he corrected. "Panthers," I stated. "and this cock," I said, unzipping and wrestling the growing cock out of his pants. "Sorry about the mess. It's been a while since the house has been opened up," I stated as I fell to my knees and took this semi-hard dick into my mouth. I inhaled his hardening member, feeling the tickle of his long, silky dark-brown pubes agains my face. He quickly grew and I licked the shaft from bottom to top, then chewed on the loose foreskin, tonguing it, and pulling it down with my teeth to reveal the slick and tender head. I licked around the glans and then took the now hard and most likely 9-incher into my mouth. He loosened his belt and jeans and let them drop to the floor. He brought my head off his cock long enough to extricate it from a pair of plaid boxers and then he dropped those too. I jerked the cock from its base while I took as much of the shaft into my mouth, working it, lathering it up with my spit.
He rested his two large mitts on my ears, held my head in place and fucked my jaw for a moment. "Hot damn, that feels good," he moaned.
"There's more where that came from," I said, rising and turning toward the bedroom and pulling my t-shirt over my head, giving him a view of my lats and triceps as I sauntered into the bedroom. "Just leave the backdoor open so we get some air moving," I said. I opened the two windows in the back bedroom and looked at the bed. I pulled the comforter off the bed and threw it onto the floor. "I apologize but it's probably been a while since we've aired out the linens. We'll just have to make do," I said, sitting down on the side of the bed and untying my tennis shoes. He was now doing the same after crab-walking into the room behind me with his pants around his knees. He sat and began unlacing the heavy Timberlands. His button up shirt was unbuttoned and I moaned at the sight of his v-neck t-shirt underneath, straining across his hairy pecs. In moments we were both naked and rolling into one another in the middle of the queen-sized bed.
"Damn," he commented, running one very large and hairy hand down my hardened pecs, over my abs and grasping my erect cock surrounded by it's trimmed, light-blonde pubes. "You are fucking gorgeous." Both of my hands were at work on his mounded pecs, rubbing the dark brown pelt covering them and then fingering and twisting the erect nipples on each. "Ditto," I said, as my left hand moved down across a fur-covered 8-pack and grasped the totally erect uncut cock of his leaking between us. I pressed my mouth into his and suppressed a groan as we followed suit by pressing our bodies into one another, the heat and subsequent sweat of the morning awaking our desire for the man-flesh we craved. My head swirled with the scent and feel of him, and when he broke our kiss and moved between my legs to take my cock into his mouth, I thought I would swoon like a damsel. The mountain man had skills! The thickness of my cock, which some guys said was a might too thick to suck, was no match for his hairy hinged jaw, and I reveled in the feel of his tongue on my cut head, and his thick beard on my balls and thighs as he brought me closer and closer to orgasm.
"No," I finally gasped, pushing his hairy mouth away from my leaking cock, and pulling on one mountainous bicep. "I don't want to cum yet," I gasped.
He pulled up on the bed, facing me yet again and demanded, "why not? I was just about to get the real thing after drinking most of that pre- you were pumping."
"I'd love for you to drink my cum, but I'd rather you fucked me first," I said brazenly.
"Damn, stud, I'd love to," he growled, flipping me over as if I was a 95-pound twink, but I think I need to eat that ass first!" The next thing I knew, I could feel his long, strong tongue splitting my cheeks and slithering around my puckered hole. I groaned with the feel of his tongue, the beard, )oh my God the beard!) as it tickled my perineum and my glutes as he licked, sucked, and then sought to tongue-fuck my opening rosebud.
"Holy Fuck!" I cried out. "You're good at that."
"Wait until you feel this," He moaned rearing up and bouncing his hard cock against my hole a few times. "Got any lube?" he drawled the question.
Fuck, I thought. "Look in that drawer here," I reached out with my left hand to the drawer on the right. Please God, I thought. I hope it all hasn't dried out in the last few years.
I heard him reach in. "Bingo," he said. "Lube and rubbers. Yes?" he asked. I presumed asking if I wanted him to wear one. I did not, but then again, I didn't know this guy.
"Please," I answered. I mean, he was hot as fuck, but still, I just met the guy! He ripped the wrapper with his teeth, sheathed his huge cock and opened the lube and drizzled his cock and my hole generously. I watched over my left shoulder as he lowered himself into a push up position, his huge biceps bulging and abs flexing as he placed the gloved cock head at my entrance and then gently pushed in. He leaned into my left ear, nibbling it and asked, "This okay?" Again, I nearly swooned at the sound of this melodic bass voice. I pushed my ass back into him, taking more of his cock up my chute and throatily answered, "Damn, just fuck me."
And fuck me he did! It was not lost on me later that the dude had already shot a load on my porch as I arrived so his stamina, to say the least, was animal-like. He fucked me slow and almost romantically at first, growling those sweet nothings into my ear as he began to build up a rhythm until he was long-dicking me and making me beg for more. The feel of his fur-covered muscle along my back and ass was extraordinarily sensual to me. He finally pulled me up onto all fours and holding my hips began to pound his hard tool into my chute relentlessly.
"Fuuuuck," I moaned, reaching out my left arm to brace myself on the headboard and hearing the bed creak and floorboards moan. Over and over again, I could feel his hard tool bouncing against my prostate and the drool from my cock head slowly ran down my dick soaking the mattress beneath. Slowing, he reached around to grab my cock, but I swatted his hand away.
"Not yet," I corrected him. He pinned and then flipped me again, keeping me impaled on his hard member until I was flat of my back, my legs pinned up near my ears, and then he leaned into me, pressing his cock all the way up into my guts, and pressing his lips and his man-fur into my mouth, seeking to suck out my guts with his mouth as he plundered my hole with his man-meat. He rammed me and tongue-fucked me instantaneously until I could no longer withstand the assaults on my love button and I felt my cock erupt before I could grab it with my hand. I shot wave after waves of ejaculate all over his hard, hairy chest as he continued to pound into my hole and my mouth. He gripped me into his strong embrace, his arms seizing around my back as I felt him plunge with one last deep thrust and he let out a guttural growl worthy of any animal he tracked. I felt his tool erupt its hot lava into the deepest caverns of my bowls over and over again. He shuddered as he was spent and then collapsed upon me, nearly leaving me breathless, as he pulled back and then kissed me again. This time it was gentle, almost sweet, as he gazed upon me with those blue eyes that seemed to melt my body and cock into his.
"Thank you," he whispered, and rolled onto his side while still holding me tight against him in a sweaty and cum-soaked embrace.
(Hope you enjoyed it. Stay tuned for Chapter 8 as we learn more about Joe Daniel Green, Wildlife Biologist and our boy Jason.)