Ranger Cabin
by Mudcub
stories@mudcub.com
Montana Bob and I were assigned as rangers some unused land the company had. We were up in Alaska, near the border of Canada. It was paradise. The land was beautiful, and it felt like we had it all to ourselves. We were just supposed to watch 1000 acres through the winter, though we didn't expect any trouble. Just live off the land. Piece of cake.
Unfortunately, the cabin we were supposed to stay in was pretty ransacked by the time we got there. It took us three days to hike up the mountains. The guys who had the cabin before us didn't bother to store it for the summer, and part of the west wall had fallen down. Our first job was to put it back together.
I had never met Bob before this job, though I had heard he was a good feller. I wasn't expecting to see the animal that greeted me. He was at least six foot six, and 250 pounds. He was muscular all over, but carried it hunched over most of the time, like a bear. He had an amazing and unruly black beard that sprouted all over his cheeks. He was wearing a flannel shirt, as was I, but his was fire-engine red. When I met him, he lumbered over, grinning, and stuck a big meaty paw out for me to shake. "Well, I guess you'll get sick of me sure enough," was all he said.
No, I'm not a talkative feller either, and so we didn't say a word for the three day hike. We didn't say anything about the ruined cabin, neither, but set to work instantly. Bob and I felled a bunch of trees, keeping the ones on the leeward side of the cabin. I proceeded to limb them, and Bob took them over to the cabin. He just pulled them, lifting up one heavy end, and then dragging it by manhandling it side to side. I was amazed, and stuck to chopping wood. As it turned out, that was my job for the next four weeks. Bob could lift a heavier axe, but I had more skill and aim from doing the job as a lumberjack in Minnesota. I couldn't cut the cords fast enough for Bob to carry. It seemed he took a five foot stack in his arms each trip, and then sat down and rested for the twenty minutes in took for me took cut enough wood to make it worth his while to do another trip!
After a week had gone by, I noticed that Bob often took off early before the sun would set. I would cut a pile of wood, and he would bring it in in the morning. But I wondered what he did before I came back. When it got too dark to see, I would come home, weary and tired, and Bob would be lying on his bed. More often than not, there was left over dinner for me to eat that Bob had fixed. He usually left me breakfast, too, when he got up earlier than I did to stack the wood. It was kind of nice, not seeing Bob in the morning (I was always grouchy in the morning) and staying up later than him. Since we only had each other's company, it was nice to be alone.
One night after I cut wood, the rain came up, so I took off early. I was determined to surprise Bob, and find out whatever he did after his supper. I edged the door open real slow and peeked in. I was shocked to see Bob lying on his bed, half-naked. His shirt was open and his Union suit exposed his hairy belly and chest. I had never seen so much hair on a grown man. More, important, Bob, had his cock out, and was stroking it with his eyes shut. His cock was huge, too, and quite wide. Bob rubbed it slowly with one huge mitt, moaning low on every down stroke. His dick was wet, and glistened in the light of the lamp hung over his bed.
I watched him in amazement, and he brought himself off, coming in a roaring climax that made him buck up in bed. His pelvis thrust into the air, and his back bent. The bed groaned under his weight, as he slammed back down repeatedly. Semen rocketed out of his cock, and almost hit the ceiling. Before he was done, I let myself out the door quietly, and I heard Bob tidy up and make dinner. I waited a moment out of respect, then barged in. Bob turned around, a little shocked, and I laughed boisterously, "'Lo! Thought I'd git back early like, and keep out of the rain." So Bob never expected anything.
For the next several days, I snuck home early to see Bob masturbate. It was amazing every time. Bob moved like an animal, there was nothing human about him. Watching him climax made me hard, too, and I spent many an evening behind the wood pile, stroking myself to an orgasm of my own. I longed to be with Bob when he came, and fantasized us having sex. Bob was a good friend, sometimes, in the evening, we'd play cards, or just sit around telling stories and bullshitting each other. He told me about his days as a river logger, and I embellished my tales as a trapper in the Quetico. We were becoming close, and I don't think it was just from the company.
Bob was generous, though he didn't say much. They fact he made food for me was right nice, especially since I can't cook, even if I shoot it. Bob took care of me. When we had enough wood stacked, we had about a week before the snow really hit. Bob disappeared off into the woods for days at a time, probably enjoying the last freedom before we were snowed in. The weather got colder, and I tried everything to seal up the cabin against draughts. I covered the cracks with a nasty tar I boiled up for the birch trees nearby. It was a nasty, messy job, and I was mad Bob wasn't here to help. I cooked the pitch over an outdoor fire, then took evergreen boughs to smear the tar on the outside of the cabin. More like, I got more tar on myself than the sides of the one-room house.
Bob came back when the first snow fell, or a little bit after, and I was in a funk on my bedroll. He came in carrying a young deer he had shot with bow-and-arrow. He laughed at me good naturedly. "Whooo! You stink." I looked down, I guess I did. I hadn't washed my Union suit since we got here, and hadn't changed out of my jeans. The tar and the sweat from wood-cutting made me smell like a coon dog. I looked at Bob. "You don't smell too good yerself." He was covered head to toe in blood. He wore a recently made leather poncho, and the hides hadn't been too well cured. He smelled dusty from the woodsmoke, and looked like a ragged mountaineer. His beard, if anything, had grown longer, and covered his face completely. "Well, come out and help me dress these deer."
We cut up six deer that night and the next day. I don't know how he shot them all. We aired the strips, and salted the meat. I tried to tan the hide better than Bob's jacket, but it made it too hard, but good for boots. We used every part of the animal, like Indians. Bob had learned some tricks from his days, and I from the Sioux and Ojibway I had met. We made jerky and lacing from the sinew. It was going to be a long winter, and we needed all the food we could get.
I didn't wash my clothes, and neither did Bob. I guess the oversight was mutual, and long as we both stank. In December, it turned too cold to cut the ice and wash, so I forgot about it. The first snow falls made it harder to go outside. Bob and I sat around indoors together for longer periods of time. It was troubling because, we started to fight. One night, after playing poker, he accused me of cheating. He turned to me with fire in his eyes, and I felt afraid of him for the first time. This was a man that could take down an elk bare-handed, and he wanted to rip me apart. However, I was going to give him some scars first. Bob threw aside one of the only two chairs I had made, and came at me, arms out like a grappler. I didn't back up, and this made him stop for a second. We looked at each other for a long beat. Me cold, and Bob red hot. Finally, he thought better of it, and turned away, throwing his card on the makeshift table. He retreated back to his bunk. Late that night, I heard him whack off. I was wondering maybe if he was getting repressed and missed the time he used to have alone.
On December 8th (I counted), we got hit with snow. It stormed for four days and nights, and I could hear the wind try to knock down our house. It was all I could do to keep the pipe stove in the center of the room fed with wood. Bob was no help, and he just lay in his bunk all day. Occasionally, he would masturbate, and I could hear him making slurping noises, his back towards me. I was feeling particularly spiteful on the second day of this, and said to him, "You havin' fun? You got your wife there in your hand." It was a cruel thing, and I felt bad right after having said it. However, Bob stayed in bed.
I was wondering if he was sick, when on the next day, whenever I looked at him, he would stop whacking off. But when I turned around to the fire again, he would start up, groaning and softly bucking, making his bed shake. Then, he would sleep all day, like a grizzly bear. Maybe he was hibernating. I yelled at him to get up and be useful, and all I got was sullen silence. But I noticed that that night, Bob stroked himself two more times, and he didn't care if I was looking at him or not.
The final day of the storm, though, things got as bad as they could be. Bob got out from under the covers, and started to jerk off without anything on. I was feeling embarrassed and sheepish. I mean, this was no thing for a man to do in front of another. I got red-faced, then I got mad. I stared at the beast humping his own fingers, and he just spurted onto himself, then did it again. The man was insatiable. He sat on the chair I made, and grunted, coming on the floor right in front of me. It was mesmerizing, though I didn't want to admit it. I couldn't admit to myself how much I enjoyed watching him do this, and I couldn't express how much I wanted to fuck him. I decided I just wanted him to stop. When he got up for dinner, I said one or two mean things at him again. Like, "You getting up? I thought you were glued to that bed." Bob turned to me angrily, and said, "Ain't no business of yours what I do." And then he punched me in the nose.
My nose exploded in pain. It was nothing big, I had my nose broke before, but I didn't expect it. The plate of dried venison and beans I had in my hand went scattering over to my side of the room. I fell against my bed, which was just a foot away. When I recovered and could see straight, I went right at him. It was Bob's turn to be shocked, now, and he dropped his plate of food, too, to ready his fists. I launched my head right into his stomach, running at him at full tilt. It felt like a train hitting a wall.
Bob inhaled, but it didn't hurt him none. He just pounded his rolled up sleeved arms into each side of my head. BOOM. One on each ear. I reeled, and almost fell, but took time to raise my head before I did. I rammed my head into his nose, and since he was looking down at me, I hit him good. The I hit the ground. All the rage and anger we had been biting at each other for the last few days came out. He lifted my limp body up off the ground beneath his feet and tossed me across the cabin. I went sailing and my back hit some of the wood brought inside. My side felt like it was ruptured, but I staggered up, and walked to Bob.
I took advantage of the fact that he was slower than me, and danced in front of him. I popped him three times in the nose, and it started to bleed, a long warm trickle down one side of his face. He growled at me, like a surprised bear, and blood ran into his mouth and over his red jaws. Quickly, Bob caught onto my game. And grabbed for me again. I was boxing, but he was wrestling. I punched Bob in the stomach, but felt his rock-hand muscles there, and knew that it was futile. In return, he smashed me in the jaw. The following pain made me slow, and he took advantage of this to grab one of my arms. He shook me with all his might, and pounded me with his other fist. I ripped my shirt free of his massive hamhock fist, and he threw me into the stove.
I felt a burn from the hot iron, and jerked back. Bob took this opportunity to kick me while I was down. But as he reached for me again, I swung his hand around, and grabbed his arm. I carried it through, Tie-Kwon-Do style to press his right hand against the stove. I held it there for a beat, and hurt him worse than he hurt me. He screamed, but unfortunately got some inner strength from this. With one quick motion, he got his arm free, and then fell on me.
This guy was huge, and his weight took all the air out of me. His knees hit my chest, and I turned blue. Then, he took his burnt fist and grabbed my hair. With Both hands on my ears, he slammed my head into the wood floor. I was going to die, and like a frantic animal, I tried one last gambit. I brought one leg up, bracing the other one under the bed. I am ashamed to say I kneed another guy in the balls. Bobs, eyes closed, but he didn't say anything. He fell on me, his chest covering mine, then he rolled of toward the store, doubled over, and clutched his groin.
He moaned, "Ohhh," and I didn't feel sorry for him. I rolled over on my stomach. I didn't have any strength for more than that. I tried to crawl away from my attacker, in case he tried to kill me for real. The effort almost made me retch, and I tasted hot bile burn my throat. My mouth tasted like blood- I must have bitten myself sometime during when he was pounding my head into the ground. I dribbled blood on the floor, as I crawled on my hands and knees to my bed. Bob was rolling a bit not, though he wasn't saying anything. I crawled up to my bunk and passed out. If I died, I died.
I barely heard Bob get up. It took him about twenty minutes, and he soon walked around the room. By this time, my head had cleared, though it still felt swollen as a plum. I looked up at Bob. He was standing above me, blocking out my light. I wriggled a bit, thinking he was going to resume the fight, but I realized he had a bottle of hooch in his hand, and it wasn't like the bottle was broken off or nothing, either. He took a swig, swaying drastically on his feet, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his big hand. He held the bottle out to me. "You sure don't fight fair," he complained.
"It wasn't a fair fight," I answered. I took the whiskey, and drank it. The alcohol on the cut in my mouth gave a searing pain. But the taste of the whiskey was worse. Thank god for the pain, 'cause in canceled out the flavor. But in a second, I felt its true effects. A buzz hit me like a ton of bricks, and I was tipsy from just two gulps of the stuff. Now, I'm not usually a lightweight, but the exercise and the punishment I had taken clouded my senses, and dulled the pain. I nodded my appreciation and gave the bottle back. Bob was guzzling a quarter of the bottle, I didn't know how he could do it. I was still lying in bed, like an invalid, but I sat up to take the bottle again. After two more rounds, I was feeling no pain, though I knew my arm was sprained, if not broken, and my jaw was probably fractured.
"You hit me pretty good," Bob said. "You're no dancer yourself." Bob wanted to know where I learned to fight. I told a story about the lumber camps up north, and the words just spurted out of my mouth. Bob laughed anyway, and soon we were both rollicking like sailors, laughing our asses off at nothing in particular. We took the last swigs of Bob's hooch, and he told me that it was the last bottle he'd hid. I was kinda bummed that it was the last drop I would have for a while, but I was feeling no pain. Bob started to get morbid, as he told me about the things he missed while stuck in this cabin with me. Naturally, sex was top of the list, and Bob talked about women he'd had, women he wanted to have, women he'd have someday.
All the talking about sex got me horny. I never realized Bob had been around so much. Me, I'd had one or two hookers, the kind that hung around the lumber camp. But I never had the kind of exploits Bob said he had. I was amazed, as he told me of different positions and locations he'd had sex. I asked him about sex with animals, and Bob said "yeah," and rattled off a story about goat when he was really horny in his younger days. I then asked about sex with me, and Bob gave me an even stare. He said he'd never done so, and if he had, he'd never tell about it. I was about to stammer an apology, when he added, "But I'm not adverse to trying." "Right now?" I asked. And in reply, Bob got up (albeit unsteadily) and walked over to me.
Now, this was something I had dreamed about, but never expected. I had never had sex with a man before, but Bob was awfully strong. What, the hell, we had nothing else better to do. My dick was quite hard from talking, and now it was about to sprig out of my roughcloth pants. Bob sat down on my bed, next to me. "You show me yours, and I'll show you mine." As I fished out my rod, Bob opened his shirt and his Union suit. I could smell him quite clearly now, it was the closest I'd been to him, except for working together outside, and he smelled quite rank. His B.O. was apparent from across the room, and at times filled up the cabin, but it smelled differently now, from close up. Bob pulled out his cock, and it was as hard as I remembered. However, he wasn't hard yet, so he spit into his right hand and stroked himself a bit. I leaned over to him, "Here, let me do that," and I spit into my own palm.
I grabbed around his thick cock, and it stiffened in my grasp. Now, my hand could barely fit around the shaft, and my fingers lightly touched my thumb on the other side. I slid my hand up, and covered the spongy head. I stroked downward, and Bob gasped. I moved my hand, and his eyes closed. He moaned, "Don't stop- don't stop." But I was in no intention of stopping. It was fun to be in such control of this big guy. I could make his toes curl up by moving faster, or I could slow down, and he would open his eyes to a slit and just watch me. I could feel the blood pulse into his engorged cock from the thick blue veins that ran down it. It was like Bob's penis was a living, throbbing creature, and it was interesting to stroke it. However, I wasn't getting too much pleasure from this, and soon Bob noticed. He spit into his left hand this time, and fished my cock from out of my Union suit. I didn't stop giving Bob a hand job, and soon we were both circle jerking.
Now, I was hard already, and when Bob touched me, a spasm went up and down my spine. It was all I could do to keep stroking him. I felt Bob's giant paw wrap around my cock. His saliva dripped down my dick, and when he stroked downward, the rough friction turned to smooth lubrication. I was barely aware that Bob's dick had become wet now too. I looked and saw the work I was doing. A drop of pre-cum had fallen out of the tip of Bob's cock, and now my hand was smearing it all the way up and down his shaft. I concentrated on my pleasure, and I felt like I was soon to come. I normally wasn't a fast date, but this time I was excited and aroused by the strangeness of it all. I felt Bob stroke faster, and my cum churned in my balls, begging for release. My ass raised off the bed, and I shot my load into Bob's hand. Semen spurted up to my chest, and a stream trickled down Bob's palm. However, Bob had yet to notice, and so he kept stroking.
After I cum, I am very sensitive, and I felt the strong force of Bob's fist as I quickly shrank. However, Bob stopped just as he came, too. I felt his cock stiffen and stop pulsing in my hand. Bob grunted twice, like he had been holding it in before. His back stiffened, then all at once, he came. If my orgasm was like a stream, his was like a torrent. I felt the expansion as his cock twitched violently, unleashing the first release of sperm. It shot mostly into my dripping palm. Then, his kept regurgitating it out, and my fist was filled with his semen. He grabbed onto my shoulder to steady himself, and he moved up and down for about thirty seconds. His orgasm lasted forever, it seemed, and in the end, there was a sopping pool of cum on his Union suit. He opened his eyes then and thanked me. I got up, and wiped off my hand, and we both buttoned ourselves up. I admitted that I was drunk, and hinted that the thing we just did was because of the liquor. Bob agreed, and we both went to our respective bunks to slp
. However, it wasn't the last of our contact.
The next day, when I woke up, Bob was already masturbating.
However, now it didn't bother me so much. Bob lay mostly naked on his bunk. His back was slightly arched, and he was quickly getting a hard-on. He had his eyes closed, so he didn't hear me as I approached him. His dick was in his hand, and he was trying to stroke it to a full erection, without much luck. "Hey," I said, getting on my knees, "let me do that for you." Bob opened his eyes in surprise, then closed them again. He was willing if I was.
I was still sleepy, and the whole thing seemed like a dream. Bob's skivvies were around his massive thighs, and they were stained quite brown. I moved them completely off his ass, and then he and I crawled into position. Bob was full on his bunk. There wasn't enough room for me, so I was half-on, and half-off. I was completely clothed, and Bob was naked, so I felt a sense of power. However, my face was buried in Bob's pubic hair, so all I saw, my whole existence, was Bob's large cock. His pubic hair smelled musky, like fur, and I found it hard to breathe. Now, Bob cock was at least ten inches long, and as big around as a ladies' wrist, so I was nervous to stick it in my mouth. So, I ducked my head low, and his cock brushed against my cheek on the way down.
Even at this slight feeling, Bob moaned. His cock was bouncing and ready to cum. However, I decided to suck his balls first. Just one testicle was as big as my mouth, and they were drawn up quite tight in his scrotum from desire. I played with my tongue, and Bob rolled gently from side to side in pleasure. His balls were quite hairy, and I felt like I had hair stuck in my mouth. I switched to the other ball, and started to hum. This made Bob jerk suddenly, and I knew I was doing a good job. Bob's toes were clenched and unclenching. A stream of pre-cum floated out of his penis and dripped onto my face. It was then I knew he was ready.
I got up a big, and had to stand up a little in order to get bob's cock into my mouth. Even then, I could only get the very tip in to suck on. Bob didn't seem to mind. His cock tasted like velvet, and it was very warm from engorged blood. It quivered and pulsed, and seemed like a foreign creature. I rubbed my tongue under its backside, and I realized it was connected to Bob only when he gasped suddenly. I tasted the cum from his dick, and it was salty, and thick, but good. Bob was growling like an animal, I enjoyed making him look like a fool. He would have done anything for me at that moment just so's I wouldn't stop sucking. Then I attacked him ferociously, sucking with all my might. Bob started bucking on his bed. I knew he was about to cum, and considered jacking him off instead of letting him cum in my mouth. "Coward," I thought, so I cursed myself and waited for him to spasm.
And ejaculate he did. My mouth was flooded with sperm, and I thank God I was on top or I would have drowned. I slurped up some of the sweet liquid, but most of it dribbled to the base of his cock. Bob lie still for several seconds, before he responded. I wiped off my chin, and Bob rubbed the rest of his jism into his furry hair. Then, it was my turn, and Bob lifted me up and over, just so he could be on top. He sucked me off expertly, just as good as I did him, but he swallowed me further. I closed my eyes, and all I felt was a pressure, a constant force filling me up. I grabbed onto his ears and his matted hair, curly and unruly on his head. I shoved him face into my groin, and bucked fully into him. Bob nibbled a bit, and the feeling of his teeth on my shaft drove me to ecstasy. My orgasm was pounding, I saw blood behind my closed eyes. Then, I exploded in a rush, curving my back against Bob's wet bunk. I came for the next five minutes, shooting more cum into his waiting mouth than I ever knew I had. I felt shriveled and tiny in his mouth, and he kept me there until my cock was really small. Then, I rolled off, and prepared to dress. That night, like every night, we would do the same thing again, sucking each other off, but no other real sex. Bob continued to masturbate several times a day in front of me, but I was too tired to help him. Bob was insatiable.
After about a week of this, we were running out of food. The weather had gotten warmer (OK, if zero degrees is warm). But at least it wasn't snowing or blowing hurricane wind, and I thought I could go out and shoot some rabbit. Bob agreed, and wanted to go, too, but I said no. I wanted to get way from the cabin for a while. Now, in this weather, a man can only last about twenty minutes, even bundled up solid. However, mountain men use bear grease to insulate their face and underneath their clothes. I had never done this, and Bob agreed to show me how.
I stepped out of my Union suit (good thing because it was extremely soiled and rancid by now). Bob got out the grease pail, and he scooped up two handfuls of the clear-opaque white stuff. I stripped entirely butt naked in front of him, and he slopped the grease on my shoulders. I felt the warm goo trickle down my chest, and then Bob worked it in. He didn't rub too hard, but left a good quarter-inch of slime on my chest before he grabbed another handful for my back. My chest glistened in the lamplight, and my nipples were erect and attentive. Bob rubbed this one under my arms, like a trained would a boxer, and now it felt funny when I lowered my arms. Bob told me not to move, so I just stood helpless, and let him do all the work. He lubed up each arm, pulling down on the hand and the fingers like a really good massage. My dick twinged a little at memories of our previous encounters.
Bob lubed up my feet, from my ankles to my ass. When he got higher, my dick hardened considerably, and this gave Bob another idea. He wiped my butt good, and left lots of globs of grease in the crack. Then he got down on his knees in front of me. He slobbered the grease on my pelvis, slowly working his way to my balls. By now, I was rock hard, but Bob went torturously slow. He took a ball in each hand, and made them slippery. They slipped in and out of his grasp, and I knew he was just toying with me. He took one last handful, and put it on my hard dick. There was a lot of grease there, and it smelled bad, like old socks. I'm not sure if I liked it all over my body. Bob made little circles, holding on to the base of my cock, and then he brought his hand up sharply, making me suck in my breath. I had a hard time standing up, and so I grabbed on to Bob's broad shoulders with both hands.
Bob stopped, then used just the center of his palm to rub the top of my penis head. This drove my crazy, and my knees buckled. I stood up when he stopped, then he did it again. Each stroke gave me spasms of pleasure, but I wasn't sure how much more I could take. Just when I was about to explode in pain, he finished me up with firm, strong straight strokes. I bent my knees, and sank backward as I came all over Bob's shirt. I hope he didn't mind, but let my semen spill onto the floor. When I opened my eyes, I was sitting on a chair, thought I wasn't sure how I had gotten there. Bob stood up, wiped the cum into his shirt, then threw my clothes at me. I dressed again, the bear grease sticking to the inside of my Union suit. It felt odd and slippery, but I could feel it add warmth.
I did my face, ears, and neck, myself with the grease, which was probably the worst. I dressed in my only two shirts, my fur-lined pants, my under jacket with hood and my over jacket. By the time I left the cabin, the only thing exposed was a two-inch window for my face. I ran a quarter-mile from the cabin for the best place for game. I started to heat up, and the grease in my clothes really kept the heat in. Parts of my were cold, but not freezing. Overall, if I kept moving, I got a damp, warm sort of festering heat. I didn't want to know what I smelled like.
I stayed out for the better part of a day. In the end, I got three rabbits, two squirrels (I kept them anyway), and a bobcat. Small game, but it was enough for a week. For me at least, I wasn't sure how much Bob would eat. I came back to the warm cabin, thanking the heat from the stove. My hands were so numb, Bob had to help me undress. Nothing sexual, I just wanted to get warm. Bob handed me a hot cup of coffee, he treats me so well, and he dressed the game I had caught. He made fun of it for being so small, but I think he was grateful. That night, we had the squirrel fried, and afterwards, he sucked me off, since I was too tired to move.
Bob pulled me out of my clothes, and we both got into my bunk. I snuggled up to Bob and shivered. He was very hairy, but gave off a lot of warmth. I could smell how his armpit hair caught his b.o. and just held it there. He was like a living rug. I was stinky, but Bob relaxed me by giving me a backrub. He ran his big meaty paws down my back, smooshing me into the bed, more than massaging me. However, it worked, and I felt my muscles relax. Bob worked on my neck, then made his way all the way down to the small of my back. There, he paused, and worked over the base of my spine. Then, he rubbed my ass cheeks, sitting straddle on my legs. He brought one hand down deep in my crack, and the side of his hand rubbed my asshole. He teased the bunghole until it puckered out visibly. Bob stuck one finger gingerly in my ass, then pulled it out slowly, since it was sticky down there from the shit. Then, he stuck in two fingers, then three. I tensed when I felt the pain from three of his big fingers up my ass. Then he ordered, "Turn over."
I did just that, and Bob sat on my cock. His asshole was waving on my dick, but I didn't go in him, which was sweet torture. I was so weary from hunting, I couldn't move. Bob danced over me, and I could feel the hair around his asshole brush lightly against my cock. It was delicious. At the same time, his large fists massaged my sweaty chest. Then, his hand worked lower and lower, played over my belly. Then, he dropped his hand to massage my legs up. I got so hard, I thought I was about to come right there. Just when I was ready, Bob put one hand over the cum that was squeezing out of my dick, and rubbed his fist all over my dick. I felt pleasure as his hand moved up and down. I was going to start coming when he stopped abruptly and placed his mouth over my cock. There wasn't a lot of friction, and at first, I didn't feel much. Then he started to suck, and I felt the pressure pull at my gonads. Bob brought me to a climax, bucking against his face. I shot cum all over the flannel sheets, make my only bunk pretty filthy. And I had never changed the sheets. Then I fell asleep, knowing that Bob would be there to keep me warm.
Bob went out the next day, and just to prove me up, he bagged a black bear. He drug it home all the way through the snow to the cabin. Since he killed it, he said it was my duty to cut it up. Now, I had never cut up something as big as a bear before. And I really didn't know what to expect. I took Bob giant hunting knife, a machete at least three feet long. I couldn't even truss the bear up in a tree, like I would to cut up a deer, because it was too heavy to lift. I slashed at the carcass with the knife, and I smelled the stink of entrails and death as the bear opened up. I quickly covered my nose with my arm but it smelled awful. Bob sat nearby and just laughed and told me to get on with it. I chopped at the bear more, but I didn't seem to be exposing anything. The fur didn't strip off, but just fell away. Soon, all there was in front of my was a steaming mass of guts, and I was hacking away furiously. Then, with one mis-timed stroke, I hit the bear wrong, and fell headfirst into the guts. I was on my knees
, almost retching, covered head to toe in bear gore. Bob started laughing and lifted me out.
He showed me the right way to flesh the bear. His strength helped to quickly cut away the unnecessary parts, leaving just the meat and the hide. When we were done, we were both covered in blood, and stank to high heaven. Bob got undressed, and though I didn't know why, I took off my coveralls, too. Bob showed my how to reach between the hide and the bone to scoop out the bear fat for later. Then unfortunately involved reaching up to the armpit into he warm body of the bear, so it was useful to remove all clothes and things that would get in the way. We scooped out three pails full of grease from the bear, to be used later as fuel, or heat. Bob snuck up behind me and showed me another use for the stuff. He dumped a half-pail full on my back as I was working, and I felt the slimy stuff ooze down my sides and chest before plopping on the ground. Without saying a word, he covered my in fat, and I did him. It took a lot more fat to cover him, since he is such a big guy. "Stick me up the ass," he said. And I was re
ady to oblige.
I smeared the foul stuff on Bob's back. He got on his hands and knees, right there next to the chopped-up bear, in the guts and intestines on the floor. It was gross, but I didn't care. I made Bob's back all shiny with fat, and then worked on his ass crack. There was fat, too, on my chest and belly, and truth be told, in felt pretty warm. It was a good insulator. I stuck my legs between Bibs, and crawled on my knees into position. My dick was throbbing was anticipation. I slid a well-greased finger up Bob's ass, and it felt like a cavern up there. My penis was throbbing and it wanted in. I put my hands on Bob's back, and I noticed how hairy it was. My hands glided over the grease on Bob's back. As I moved into him, we made a squelching noise together.
I felt pure bliss as my dick went in. I felt his rectum squeeze at the intrusion. Bob made a very bear-like grunt. I thought he was in pain, so I stopped for a second, and let his ass get used to me. After a minute, I slid forward again, and the same as last time, his ass clenched. So I waited. Then thrust forward, then waited. After about ten minutes, I was all the way in. I knew Bob was enjoying this, because his dick was already pumping out pre-cum onto the bear gore on the floor. I started to slide in an out, and I swear I heard Bob growl.
As I rubbed myself inside his stinking hole, Bob was tighter than ever. However, I didn't care. I just went faster, only concerned about my own pleasure. The force of my thrusts moved Bob all over the floor, slipping in bear guts. Then, suddenly, his strength gave out as his legs buckled during a spasm of pleasure. Bob hit the floor hard, but I didn't pull out of him. I myself was on the brink of an orgasm, and I wasn't about to stop. Bob face and chest plummeted into the blood on the floor. He was slick from mucus and dismembered parts. I hit him hard, and I soon came in his ass, shooting a hard jism up there that I knew he could feel. I cold feel his ass throbbing as my dick pulsed out cum.
After I rolled off Bob into the goo, then it was his turn. He lifted me up onto my knees. Then, he moved into me. His hairy chest was matted with filth, and it stuck to my back. I felt a delicious pressure, as his cock head rubbed against my ass. Getting rammed up the ass had given him a huge hardon, and I wasn't sure I could take him all in. However, he grabbed more bear grease, and lubed himself up real good. Then, he slid up my ass. Well, pushed, really, and my asshole screamed as his gigantic circumference probed my ass.
Bob jerked back and forth, more vibrating than anything else. He was dripping on my back, I didn't even want to know what kind of liquid. He forced my face and shoulders down into the muck. It smelled awful, but I couldn't really notice right then. Bob used his weight, to plunge his manhood all the way into may ass, until it hit bottom. Then, he pulled out very slowly. Very very slowly. He increased the tempo, until he came to a thundering climax. I knew he was coming when he started pounding on my back with his fist. I took the pain, and shot a wad myself.
We both got up, and cleaned up the rest of the bear, dressing and preparing the meat for winter. Bob washed up in a large tin bucket we had by the stove, but I just put on my usual stinky longjohns. I did however, jack him off, while he sat in the tub, only his ass really sticking in the water. We had many sexual encounters than winter, but after spring had come, I didn't see him any more. I found a logging job, and he just disappeared. We both collected our check from the company for homesteading, and drank ourselves drunk when we hit the town. After that, I can't remember much.