Logging Camp
By Bald Hairy Man e-mail bldhrymn@aol.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com
This is an adult story intended for adults. 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. These is an all new story. Please e-mail me if you have any suggestions or comments.
"All rise. The honorable William T. FitzGilbert, Presiding!" the Bailiff proclaimed. The court room was mostly empty. Judge FitzGilbert was cleaning up some loose ends, mostly drunks and indigent men who had fallen on hard times and got into trouble.
" Is Algernon Baskervill here?" No one moved, then a tall, scrawny man shook himself and came forward.
"I'm Baskerville, they call me Buddy," the man said.
"Come to the bench," the Judge said. "You pleaded guilty to public intoxication. Are you ready to receive your sentence?"
"Yes your honor."
"Do you have a job?" the Judge asked.
"Yes sir."
"What kind of a job is it?"
"I just got hired by the . . . Blue Ridge Logging Company," Buddy replied. It was obvious the man was unsure about his employment.
"I was going to send you to jail for six months," the Judge said under his breath. "But, since you have a job, I'm willing to suspend it, only if you keep the job of the entire six month period. Do you think you can do that?"
"Yes, your Honor," Buddy replied. It wasn't the firmest reply the Judge had ever heard, but it would do.
"I sentence you to six months in jail with the entire sentence suspended on good behavior," Judge FitzGilbert announced in a loud voice. "If there are no more problems, I'll erase the conviction from your record. Next case, Bailiff."
Buddy left the courtroom and came to me. "How did you do, Buddy" I asked.
"It worked just the way you said it would," he replied. "Maybe my luck has changed. I haven't gotten a break on anything in five years, ever since my wife left me."
"Your luck has changed only if you want it to change," I said. "We've got to wait a few minutes. I've got another man coming." About fifteen minutes later a big guy named Skeeter came out.
"Thank you Mr. Stevens, I'm not going to jail." Skeeter said.
"How long did he give you?"
"A year, suspended, if I stay clean," he said.
"You're going to stay clean, aren't you?"
"Damn right," he replied. We went to my truck. "Skeeter this is Buddy. You are the two newest employees of the Blue Ridge Logging Company." My truck wasn't new and had seen lots of use, but both men seemed happy to get in. They had their clothes in a knapsack.
Buddy told me he liked to travel light. He was embarrassed to be a forty-year-old man who owned nothing. I'm not sure Skeeter realized he didn't own anything. It was just the way it was for him. He didn't know any better.
Judge FitzGilbert and I went way back. We had been friends in High School. Without a doubt, he had the best gaydar of any man in Virginia. He knew I was gay the second I met him. I was a linebacker on the School football team, but he knew. We grew apart socially, but not sexually.
For years he used his court to supply me with labor and fun. Bill could tell when a man before him in court was gay. There are lots of men who don't deal with being gay well. They chose what he called the antisocial or self-destructive approach to dealing with gay urges.
My logging operation was in the middle of no where, isolated and safe. It gave men a chance to get away from their demons and start fresh. It also gave me a chance to teach them how to be a man and be gay at the same time. Over the last few years I've worked with ten or twelve men. I've enjoyed it, but I have to admit, my enjoyment doesn't come close to theirs.
To tell you the truth, it's hard to beat the satisfaction of having great sex for the first time in your life at forty or fifty. I know for a fact, you can teach an old dog new tricks. I wasn't sure about Skeeter and Buddy, but the Judge had never been wrong before.
We went deep into the boondocks, then turned onto the bad roads. After fording a creek or two, we then went into a deep hollow in the side of a mountain. Both men were happy. That was a good sign. They weren't jail bait and the prospect of jail scared them. It usually took a while to figure out if they had fallen into bad times through bad luck or stupidity. Usually it was a combination of both.
They liked the forest. I knew from my conversation with the Judge, they were city boys, or more correctly sub urban men. They would like to have thought of themselves as hardy mountain men. My camp gave them a chance to live their fantasy and become real mountain men.
It was near dinner time at the camp. I lived in the big house. This had my quarters and the dining room. Next to it was the bunk house. It wasn't fancy, but it looked like something from an old Roy Rodgers's movie. The wash house was between the two buildings, but nearer to my house and connected with a breeze way. The washhouse and the big house were heated. The bunk house had a wood stove. I had fenced the space between the two houses had a vegetable garden in the space.
I had five men working with me, Dusty was the head man, Sebastian was the cook and house keeper. He was a diminutive Mexican, about half the size of the other men. Lon, Buster and Max filled out the crew. The Terrible Trio, as we called Lon, Buster and Max, weren't noted for their intellectual prowess. They were big and strong. Dusty did the thinking for them.
Dusty was a natural leader of men. He wasn't that big, but he knew how to handle men and get the best out of them. He was a bit shaggy looking with a grey beard and wild mane of hair. His eyes were pale blue and could twinkle or glower, depending on the situation. Buddy and Skeeter fit right in.
I went to the big house where Sebastian was making dinner. This was a men's camp, so the dress code was casual and rules few. There was one requirement. Everyone had to shower before dinner and appear in clean clothes. We didn't dress up for dinner, but at least you had to wear a clean tee shirt. The men thought this was my rule. It was Dusty's. It was crude in the woods, but he felt you had to act like a real person once a day.
The food was always simple, but good. We had chicken this night, but we often ate what the men called the road kill of the day. That wasn't often road kill, but they liked game, so we often had whatever was in season. Dusty and I had the rifles and we permitted no one else to hunt. Once and a while Scotty, a highway department friend of mine, would bring in road kill. He only did this when it was fresh.
Scotty claimed it was gourmet food when it was run over by a Mercedes of BMW. Lon claimed he wouldn't eat Fur-in food, and the boys had a good laugh over that.
The first week was hard for the new men. Buddy had done heavy manual labor before, so he was in comparatively good shape. Skeeter was new to it and it was hard on him. The men were good about this. They had been there before and were sympathetic and helpful. Friday was a short day because of rain. The men came back early and Skeeter was in pain big time.
It was cool for this time of the year and mud caked all of us. I hosed them down in the garden and sent them into the showers. Dusty came up to me. "Skeeter's near the breaking point. Today might be a good time for one of your special massages," he said.
"You think he's ready?"
"Yeah, I think he's ready," Dusty replied. "Some fun might help him get over the hump."
"Do you want to join us?" I asked.
Dusty smiled. "I just see how you're doing and play it by ear."
"How is Buddy doing?" I asked.
"He's hitting it off pretty well with Buster," Dusty said. "Buster ain't the most sophisticated guy in the world, but that's fine with Buddy. I'm not sure he's been initiated into the fraternity, but he sure has pledged!" Dusty smiled. "Buddy ain't no virgin. He knows the ropes."
I had been with the men in the woods and was as dirty as they were. I joined them in the shower. We had a big water tank with a solar collector providing most of the hot water. There was a wood furnace backing up that system. The shower room had four heads. With eight people showering together, we were crowded, but we got maximum use out of the water. We also had maximum change for physical contact. The shower room could be wild, but until Skeeter was pledged, it was sedate.
"Skeeter, do you hurt as much as it looks like you hurt?" I asked.
"I don't think I could ever look that bad," Skeeter replied. "This is all new to me."
"Skeeter, you need to trip to Mr. Stevens' Massage parlor. I can make you feel better. Maybe not good, but better."
"You don't need to do that, Mr. Stevens," he said.
"Mr. Stevens knows his stuff," Lon said. "I wasn't exactly a child of the wild when I came here. He can help you out." Skeeter and I dried off and went to my quarters.
I made it a point not to check out the guys' equipment in the shower room, until they were ready. I told Skeeter to lie on the bed face down. Straddling him, I began working some oil into his back. "Just try to relax. You'll feel better in a few minutes," I said.
It took a while but he eventually relaxed. I got him to turn over reluctantly. Getting off the bed, he saw I was half hard and he rolled over. He was more than half hard. He was already seven inches and the foreskin still covered his cock head. His cock still had some growing to do. I straddled him again.
"You got a nice baby maker there," I said. "Do you need to beat them off with a stick?"
"My wife thought it was gross," he said. "She thought I shot blanks, but we went to a doctor. He said she was a dry well. She left me for another guy. I don't know how she did it, but she got every fucking thing I had."
I was working oil into his chest and shoulders. "That does feel good," he said.
"The good news is you're a muscular guy. The bad news is only muscles can get sore," I said. "You'll be okay in a week."
"I hate being a wimp," Skeeter replied.
"You can do nothing when you start a new job and use a set of muscles you haven't used in years," I said. "That happens to everybody." I was fully erect by now. I shifted my position and he saw my erect cock.
"You've got some nice equipment too," he said cautiously.
"Thanks," I said. "Yours is impressive."
"You like it?" he asked.
"What would you say, if I told you, I like the cock nearest to me?" I asked.
"Hot damn!" he replied. I stroked his cock and pulled the skin back, exposing his bloated cock head. A pearl of pre cum emerged.
"Do you have a hair trigger?" I asked.
Skeeter looked me in the eye. "The first load can shoot fast. I can take my time on the second." Repositioning myself we were cock to cock. I rubbed the two members together.
"Are you an open-minded guy?" I asked.
"I guess you could say that," he said. I poured some oil on our cocks and stroked them.
"Damn, that feels good," he said. I sat up, placed his cock at my ass and sat on it. His cock was a good 7", not too thick, but not thin either. It slid in easily. I did this really fast. He was caught off guard.
"Holy Jesus!" he cried. I moved my hips a little. "Stay still or I'll shoot!" he whispered. I stayed still. After a minute he relaxed. "I'm okay now." I moved my hips again. Skeeter was in heaven.
"Is it safe here?" Skeeter asked. "Will anyone come in?"
"Don't worry Skeeter, everyone here is as open minded as you are, if not more so," I said.
"You all mess around?"
"Let's just say television reception here is poor. We've found some alternative ways to spend our evenings other than watching re runs of My Favorite Martian," I replied.
"Damn, I'm lucky," Skeeter muttered.
"How's that?"
"I never liked that program anyway!" With that comment, Skeeter made a bouncing movement with his hips. He wanted to fuck.
"Is this a private party?" Dusty asked as he entered the room. He went straight over to Skeeter and got his cock in easy sucking distance of Skeeter's mouth. Dusty possessed what the men called the White Snake. Long and thin, it hung half way down his thigh. He had goat balls that hung almost as low. Skeeter stuck out his tongue.
"I think it time to have our welcoming party," Dusty said. "Officially welcome Skeeter and Buddy to the group." Dusty apparently had decided this earlier. When he mentioned a party, the other men entered my room. All were naked.
"Damn, the boss man takes it in the ass," Buddy exclaimed. The rest of the men joined us.
"Buddy, everyone here takes it in the ass," Lon said.
"Not me," Buddy replied.
"We'll see about that," Lon replied.
Lon understood Buddy better than Buddy understood himself. An hour later, Buddy was on his back with Buster's cock buried deep in his ass. I'd have picked Dusty's White Snake rather than Buster's beer can for my introduction to taking it in the ass. Dusty told me Buddy and Buster were friends. Cocks don't lie and Buddy's cock was hard as a rock as Buster rammed him. On the other side of the room Skeeter was fucking Lon. The new men were going to work out just fine.