This is an adult story intended for adults. It is a fantasy, so I again remind you that have done away with the requirements of safe sex, and jetsoned a good deal of common sense too. It follows on my earlier story, Snow on the Mountain. That is not required reading, but it might help you to get to know the characters better. If you have any suggestion or comments, please e-mail me.
Preaching to the Choir Part Six
By Bald Hairy Man e-mail bldhrymn@aol.com
"Well boys!" Wally said. "I can tell you one thing, it's take out tonight! No cooking for this sore assed organist tonight!" Everyone laughed. Most of us were back in the water, cooling off. It was over one hundred degrees in the full sun.
"I thought you could live off the juice we squirted in your hole this afternoon." Bill said. "They says it's full of protein."
"If I could, I would." Wally said. "But I am starved. Too much heavy exercise and excitement for a guy who is accustomed to the gentle tinkling of the ivories."
"I will be glad to cruise the streets of Richmond for takeout delicacies." Bill said as he got out of the water. "Any one want to join me?" Templeton jumped out and volunteered to help. Their cocks were soft, and it seemed odd to see a relaxed cock after the last two days of constant stimulation. They went to the house to get dressed, and most of us followed. The western sun was making the pool area almost unbearable.
I took a shower, got dressed and went to the kitchen. The smell of the fire was still noticeable, and there was a film of oily soot over the cabinets and counter tops. I found a dish rag and started cleaning. Skeeter and Larry joined me and soon we had a cleaning crew at work.
"This is quite an experience." Larry said. "I never visualized anything like this. It wears you out."
"Ready to go home?" Skeeter asked.
"Shit no!" Larry grinned. "I'm just afraid my cock might fall off from over use! Can a cock break?" We all laughed.
"Well, I, for one, wouldn't mind a more steady diet of this kind of activity." Skeeter said. "But it is hard to get used to open sex. Being with guys who all like the same things I do."
"I am on edge all day long at the bank, making sure I don't make a slip and give myself away." Larry said. "Here if I slip I find a cock in my ass! If it wasn't so exciting, it would be relaxing."
"I've never been in a situation where I could be at ease." I said. "I wonder how many guys go through their lives without ever being comfortable or at ease with them selves?"
"Most I would guess" Skeeter said. Charles and Bob joined us and the kitchen was beginning to look good.
Bill and Templeton returned. They carried a mass of Kentucky Fried Chicken buckets and had another man with them. " Cholesterol, chicken and another tenor!" Templeton cried.
"One hundred percent Red neck food!" Bill proclaimed. They carried the bags of food into the dining room and the entire group gathered. "For those of you who are not members of the coir, this is Gus, a friend of our esteemed tenor and a manager of the West Cary Street KFC!"
Gus was tall and thin and maybe 25 years old. It turned out he was a graduate student at a local college, a member of the choir, and Templeton's close friend. "Please note that no effort a sensible eating has been taken for this dinner. It is pure cholesterol mixed with some salt." Bill said.
It was great. Pure unadulterated food, free of the food police's dictates was a treat. We all ate well and settled down in the living room. It had been an all paper plate affair and there was no clean up. The lights were out because we didn't want any bugs in the room, the screens were ripped. We sat in the dark, and Wally played the piano. We drank some beer. Quite a bit of beer. The musical portion of the group sang. The night became lyrical.
The sun dropped in the west and the music was great. The guys knew just about every song. I will admit that Skeeter's rendition of the old Shangra La's hit My Boyfriends Back was nothing short of stunning, but everyone had a good time. Beer flowed easily and everyone relaxed. When the singers took a break we clustered into small groups.
I sat with Charles and Bob. "You are old friends?" I asked.
"From the first year of college." Charles answered.
"Were you playmates from the start?" I asked.
Charles said. "We began playing when I joined the wrestling team. Had never had close physical contact with a man before. It was a revelation." He continued. "We got closer and closer over the semester and roomed together second year."
"We were the perfect jock pair. No one guessed that we were a couple, too big, too male." Bob added.
"I thought we had tried everything guys could try over the last twenty years, but this weekend had been a trip!" Charles said. "I have never seen Bob with another man. Real exciting." He had his hand inside my shorts and was feeling my balls when he encountered Bob's hand, feeling from the other direction. We all laughed, and stripped our clothes. We were not the only ones, in the dim room there were signs of activity and sounds of men having sex.
"Did you like sharing my ass with Bob?" I asked Charles.
"A real turn on!" Charles said. "I don't know if it was the physical sensation of his cum in your chute, or the thought of sharing an ass that was so exciting. Whatever it was, it was great."
Wally was next to us with John-Boy and Mike. "I'm ready now, Wally!" John-Boy said. "Real ready!" Bill was on the other side of the room with Templeton and Larry, and so he couldn't delay the coupling.
"Do you want to watch? Charles asked. We all got up and joined Wally. Mike was lubricating Wally's cock. I got some lube and worked it into John-Boy's ass. It was warm and he was already twitching with excitement.
Wally placed his small cock head at the hole, and shoved it half way in. I was sucking John-boy's cock, and he shot a spurt of pre cum from the slit. Mike was kissing John-Boy and playing with his tit. Charles and Bob flanked Wally.
"Oh baby!" Wally moaned. "Hot and Warm!" John Boy was on his back and Mike got up and gabbed his legs and spread them wide.
"No resistance little cousin! No resistance!" Mike said. John-boy shot anther spurt. Obviously Mike knew much more about John-Boy's sexual interests and chemistry. "Go for he gold Wally!" Mike commanded.
Charles gave Wally's ass a boost, and the tree trunk was deeply lodged in John-Boy' ass. Wally stopped to give him a chance to adjust, but Mike said, "Pump hard, fuck him good! He likes it rough!" Mike was right. The boy's cock was oozing buckets of pre cum. I stopped sucking him because it was so bloated that I was afraid I would scrape his meat with my teeth.
He bucked and jerked as he came. He was skewered on Wally's cock , which remained deep in his ass. There was juice everywhere on his chest and on Mike. John-Boy's convulsions were enough to push Wally over the edge. Charles and Bob had one hand pinching Wally's tits and the other on his ass cheeks with a finger in his hole. When Wally moaned that he was cumming, Bob dropped to his knees and rammed his finger deep into Wally's ass, hitting the prostate as it filled.
"One fucking hard nut!" Bob said. "One,. . .,two . . ., three..." He counted Wally's ejaculations, spurt by spurt., as he fingered the organists spasming sex organ. In the dim light you couldn't see Wally react to his orgasm, and his cock was deep in John-Boys ass, so Bob's prostate commentary filled in the gaps. He stopped counting at twenty-two.
Wally pulled out, and laid back on the carpet .Unexpectedly. Charles lifted Wally's legs, spread them wide and fucked him. "Let's just force that last bit of cum out of there." Charles said quietly. Wally was saying something about pulling out all the stops.
Bob touched me, and asked if I wanted to fuck. I told im I wanted to be fucked and he was lubricated and in my ass in seconds. His horse cock felt wonderful. He and Charles were fucking in rhythm, and began to hum, then burst into Beethoven's Hymn to Joy. The whole group joined in, Gus, the new guy was a tenor like Templeton, and the sound was indescribable.
In retrospect, I don't know what part of the experience was due to Beethoven, and what part was pure cock-prostate interaction, but it was great. The comic, cultural and sexual aspects of the moment merged and I wallowed in the sensations. The room was quite dark, but I knew that we were not the only group fucking in the warm summer night.
I had a hands free climax and Wally was almost crying as he shot a second time in ten minutes. Bob and Charles seemed to forget the words as them came. And the moment was over.
"Fucking great!" Bubba said from somewhere in the darkness.
"What's the name of that tune?" Skeeter asked, and the room filled with laughter. It was getting late and we wandered up to the shower and bed.
I woke at six feeling really thirsty. I went to the bathroom , returned to the bed, and discovered that Templeton and Gus were in the same bed. He had a young man's beard and body hair, but looked well hung as he laid on top of the sheets.
He rolled over, and found himself at cock height and helped himself to breakfast in bed, with my cock as the main course. It was a satisfactory way to start the day. Templeton woke looked at us and said "You met?"
"Introductions are a bit informal here!" I said. Gus looked up at me, said "Pleased to meet ya!" and deep throated my cock again. The smell of bacon permeated the house so we broke it off and went down stairs for breakfast.
Bill and Wally were cooking and both were in a good mood. Bill had decided that the pace of work was to slow, the fire of the day before had disrupted his plan and they would get the work he wanted to get done today, by hook or crook. Tomorrow the musical contingent was off to church and the party would be over. Wally was inspired by the previous nights Beethoven interlude to revise the concert program. The workers and the choir members separated into their own groups, and the morning's work began.
Bubba and Mike joined us in the garden. The extra help made the work go much faster than it had the day before. We exposed s several terrace walls and Mike discovered a large stone urn on a pedestal in a large clump of honeysuckle. With the aid of a weed eater, I located three more. The stone retaining wall of the terrace was defined by these four urns, and the architectural effect was spectacular. It was a classical frame to the view of the wild rapids below. By ten o'clock the canal ruins were clearly visible and the path from the house to the river was clear.
Skeeter was knowledgeable about trees and plants and had a good eye for trees that were salvageable and could be rescued from their wildly overgrown state. Larry arrived with drinks and a snack. Franklin Montague was with him.
"We seem to have turned the trio into a sextet." He said as he served the cokes and donuts. Most of the men knew him from the job at the church, but I hadn't had time to tell Bill of his possible arrival. Frank was in a tee shirt and shorts. He was an impressive man in his dark business suit, but he was even more impressive in the tight fitting clothes. His closely cropped, salt and pepper hair and mustache looked great against his deep brown skin. Muscular and defined, he clearly spent some time working out. "I am the second baritone." No one knew if the sextet was simply a statement of fact, or a promise of things to come.
"Great, poor Larry was being overwhelmed by the basses." I said. "Pound for pound it's difficult to compete with Charles and Bob."
"It's beautiful here!"Frank said. "I had no idea there was so much on the island. I've only been to the house before. Never explored the garden."
The remainder of the choral group arrived with coffee, and were duly impressed with the newly cleared area. Frank and Skeeter shared a common interest in growing things, and they got some ribbons to tag good trees and shrubs. "My daddy was the gardener for Smith mansion." Franklin said. The Smith mansion was a spectacular medieval mansion that had been moved to Richmond in the 1920s. It sat in the middle of formal gardens. "This looks like it may have been done by the same landscape architect."
"My daddy worked construction all his life, a brick mason," Skeeter said, "but he loved anything that growed. He had a green thumb, and he could find a twig in the back of field and turn it into a prize winning rose." Within a half hour the two men had located a series of climbing roses and shrubs that had been the backbone of the former planting scheme. I was relieved. Skeeter had that Civil War reinactor look to him, and I had guessed that he might be the most likely guy to have a problem with a black man joining the party. The seemed to have hit it off.
Wally said lunch would be ready at one or so, and the sextet returned to their practice. Bill and I surveyed the work and decided on a course of action. We wanted to leave the place looking done, not as if the place was half cleared.
Lunch was cold cuts again, and very welcome. We ate quickly since there were tremendous amount of stuff that needed to be piled up to be removed later. We were done using the power tools so for the next few hours were worked under the increasingly hot sun the accompaniment of Classical music. Around three o'clock the sun vanished behind a cloud.
"Storm on the way" Bubba said. "Will be here in an hour or two." Bubba was oddly certain of the forecast, but he turned out to be right. The humidity soared, and the air became thick. Huge black clouds formed in the west. Bob came down from the house.
"There is a severe storm watch for the area, three or four hours of heavy storms." Bob said. "I'm not on call this weekend." He was a city administrator. "I called my assistant and she was ready for the storm and pissed I was worried."
"Is that Betsy Agar?" I asked. He nodded. "Isn't she a retired officer from the Army?" I knew Betsy, who was a female equivalent of Bill. Organized and competent. "The city's in good hands!" We went down to the edge of the river to warn anyone to get out of the water. Lightening killed two swimmers several years before. A helicopter was flying above the river broadcasting warnings.
A small raft appeared to be coming toward the island. We waved at the man paddling.
"Oh shit! He's in trouble!" Bob said. He was caught in the rapids, and we realized that the raft had a motor that wasn't working. "It's the ranger, Fred!" The raft was out of control, being carried by the swift current. Bill and the men had noticed the raft and came down with ropes, and John-Boy ran to the house to see if there was a boat or life vests on the island.
The raft was coaming toward the island, but the current was exceptionally swift, and there would be no way to paddle across it. It would be carried into the treacherous rapids that flanked the island on each side. Wally arrived with life vests, inner tubes and the remainder of the singing group.
We tied a rope to the tubes and decided to throw it out to Fred as he past. If he could snag it we could pull him across the current to safety. Fred could see our preparations. We had two inner tubes and a vest and stationed three groups spaced along the bank to try and snag him. Bill threw the first one, that fell short. The raft was going faster. Charles threw the second, that went long. Great disappointment. Then we realized that the tube got hung up on a rock and the rope stretched across the channel.
Fred saw the same thing and grabbed it. He had it, and we suddenly found ourselves in a tug of war with the river. There were some big men in our group and we needed everyone of them. Charles, Bill Skeeter, Frank, Wally, Bubba, Ronnie, Bob and I maned the line, while the tenor's, Larry, Mike and John-Boy formed a human chain on the edge of the water to grab Fred as he got close.
It seemed like hours, but it couldn't have been more that two or three minutes. Gus grabbed him, and pulled him to shore. We were all winded and exhilarated.
"I was warning swimmers to get out of the water when the motor broke." Fred said. "That was a close call. Don't tell anyone that the river's only ranger needed to be saved!"
"You've got a reputation, I know!" Bob said. Fred was a stocky man of middle height with a weathered face and brown hair and beard.
"Time to get tin the house and batten down the hatches." Wally said. The air was pea soup thick and the sky leaden. We returned to the house.
"A close call." I said to Bob. "Our group has expanded." After the rescue I discovered that I was ready for wild sex, unbelievably horny. Bob sensed the tinge of disappointment in my voice. We had a stranger in the group.
"It was close." Bob said. "Fred's a good guy. The river wouldn't be the same without him." He lowered his voice, and said under his breath. "Fred will fit in out group just fine. Just fine." Reaching the house we took in all of the light weight lawn furniture, and closed all the windows. Bill stowed the equipment in the trucks and locked the tool chests.
"I'm going to take a quick shower before the storm hits."Wally said. My aunt never let anyone shower during a storm, and I don't either. We all went to the dorm shower room. "Shower fast, I don't think we have much time."
This we did and in five minutes we were all in and out of the shower. Losing the dirt and sweat of the day was refreshing. We dried off, and went down stairs. The windows were all closed and the attic space was hot. We didn't dress again. Fred didn't seem to mind at all.
Skeeter broke out the beer and we all sat in the living room, or looked out the windows at the advancing storm. Fred was as hairy as Ronnie or Bubba, but shorter and more compact. He was cut with a big head concealing the shaft. Frank got better looking as he wore less and less. Well defined chest, big nipples and a matt of hair on his chest, fuzz on his gut and a Polish sausage hanging between his legs. Uncut, half of his head was visible. He had genuine bull balls, hanging low.
We watched as the lightening advanced on the house, there was a wall of rain. A gust of wind hit the house and rattled the windows, then what seemed like a solid wall of rain. The television had been set to the Weather Channel. It went blank.
The scene was surreal. The elegant Georgian room was occupied by fourteen nude men, most hairy and most big. The scenic wallpaper depicted scenes from classical mythology, nymphs and satyrs. We all clustered at the three french doors that over looked the river, watching the storm. As I stood there, I realized that my cock was rising. I looked at Fred and Ronnie and saw that there cocks were rising too. Mike and Bob were behind me, and I felt Bob's cock brush against my ass cheek.
The evening entertainment was about to begin.