Tree Farm Fluffer - Gay Encounters, Urination
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This is part 1 of this ongoing story.
This series is inspired on true events that lead to a fictional fantasies. It will depict many different fetish themes over the subsequent chapters. If you are not interested in m/m kinky gay sex, this is not for you. If you are, get ready!
I begrudgingly made the long drive to Vermont for a family Christmas like I had done every year.
Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, older brother, his wife, and their kids, we're a pretty close family. I normally loved that we'd spend the holidays in our family cabin nestled in the woods for a guaranteed "White Christmas" instead of at our home in DC, escaping the hustle and bustle of the city in the cramped townhouse my brother and I grew up in.
This year was different, though. I was thirty-six, insatiably horny all the time, and as of six months ago, divorced.
My ex, Hunter, and I had been married for seven years, together since our Junior year at NYU so it was the first time I'd be alone with my family for the week since I was twenty-two, when I brought him home to meet my parents our senior year.
We met at a party in our Sophomore year. Both of us were still coming into our own, finding ourselves and while Hunter was proudly out, I was still pretty deep in the closet. I had a crush on him the moment our eyes met when a mutual friend introduced us but was too nervous to act on it, never having been with another guy at that point. I would constantly keep an eye out around campus and at parties for the beautiful blond boy that I couldn't get out of my head. I didn't realize it at the time but he was doing the same thing, trying to hunt me down. Slowly we built a close friendship that was filled with sexual tension. Finally on a wild, drunken night a year later I finally had the courage to slur my feelings for him and was rewarded with my first kiss from a man and then many other firsts that night. We woke up, hungover, tangled together on my narrow, dorm-issued bed, and have been inseparable since.
Neither of us had those slutty, exploratory college years to get it out of our system, both of us were raised to believe sex belonged within the confines of love and relationship. I was so in love with him I never thought about another man, definitely not for the first ten years at least. We couldn't keep our hands off each other - our sex was frequent, always passionate, intimate, and satisfying, pretty vanilla, but it worked for us. Until it didn't.
My parents loved him right away and he became like another son to them instantly. I remember wanting to ask him to marry me almost every day until I finally did.
We had a great marriage, both successful in our careers and kept each other motivated but even in the best partnerships, sometimes things don't last. As is typical in most relationships that start with young love, before the responsibilities of adulthood, our sex life grew dull and almost non-existent which caused a rift in intimacy and me developing some hypothetical kinks through all the porn I watched. That developed into a very discreet use of apps for lots of anonymous dirty talk exploration for over a year which highlighted my lack of satisfaction in our infrequent sex. I was too nervous to approach the subject after a few failed attempts and a disastrous fight the time I suggested a threesome once. I was itching to try so many things that when I was on a work trip a few months back and a sexy Daddy hit on me at a bar after my second martini, I gave in and had a wild, raunchy night.
Me cheating with a hot older guy who used me in a way Hunter could never and would never awakened something inside of me that I couldn't ignore. It wasn't the guilt that made me confess my infidelity at first, even though it was eating me alive. Nor was it that I couldn't get the role play out of my head which triggered a new constant hunger. It was rough fucking a submissive twink the next week to balance out my curiosity of being a daddy and using someone the way I had been and getting chlamydia.
To be honest, it was the catalyst for us to face the truth, our marriage, at least the physical part, had long been over. We never wanted kids so we kind of just settled into a routine. It ended quite civilly and Hunter even admitted he had strayed a time or two. We still talk every day and see each other often, sharing the same friends, trainer at the gym, and living in the same West Village neighborhood. He was and hopefully always will be my best friend, but we both knew an open relationship wasn't right or enough for either one of us and it was time to part ways.
Since then I have been making up for lost time, exploring kinks, fetishes, and men. Turning myself into quite an insatiable fiend. I had my limits and hesitations, nervous anxiety prevented me from anything too risky or completely anonymous. My broad, muscular frame and height, coupled with my dark, strongly masculine features, furry chest, and sizeable cock kept me on the more dominant, top side of most of my encounters but I knew I would learn to submit freely at some point.
My heart knew this sexual sojourn of sorts wouldn't last forever, allowing my mind ease without constant shame or guilt. I was making up for lost time. I did want to eventually meet someone again, to share more than just a physical connection with and be committed to but I was having fun with my freedom. I loved topping still and missed the taste and feel of Hunter's tight hole. I missed his massive cock in my mouth (which, for my lack of experience with others, made me an expert on deep throating) and the occasional feel of it inside of me, but I was enjoying being verse, switching dom and sub roles, meeting up for kinky encounters, and learning what really turned me on. Plus, I was pretty hot, so it was easy for a tall, fit, hairy guy like me to keep active. Like a kid in a candy store, trying out everything.
It was all a great distraction, and with our continued communication, I never really felt the effects of our split until I started the engine to make the daunting trip north.
About ten years ago Hunter and I started the tradition of getting the tree on our drive up from New York City. Even though we had ten acres of forest surrounding our place, Mom insisted we go for the experience, the wreaths, to support the local farmers, and, of course, the velvet bows. It started as an excuse to go up a day early before the rest of the family would arrive - we could pretend we owned our own country home and take advantage of the empty house. It was cute and romantic and the only time that Hunter would really get kind of adventurous - something about the woods and sneaking around like high schoolers while my family was around always sparked something in him. Especially the first night, before everyone arrived in the morning, stripping down as soon as we walked inside and exploring each other in all different ways in every room of the house. He also loved to get fucked in the forest.
I agreed to pick up the tree as usual, not thinking how tedious and depressing a task it would be doing it alone. Not to mention how fucking horny the drive would make me, reminding me of how my six-month sexual bender had made me insatiable and the week alone without my husband would mean no sex in a place we had fucked more than ever in a day. Oh and less alone time to take care of myself as my overly concerned family will be up my ass, making sure I'm not feeling depressed or lonely as a single man for the first time in fifteen years.
I was hoping to tire myself out the week leading up to it, satiating my wild libido with as many wild encounters as I could make happen but with trying to finish everything for year end at work I didn't have time for more than two mediocre mutual blow jobs. Desperate for something a bit more wild, I was hoping to find a little steam room action at the gym before I left that morning but with no luck I resolved to jerk off as much as I could when I arrived, packing a couple of my favorite accessories for solo time - a stained, rank jock from an insanely hot porn star I follow on only fans, a fresh bottle of poppers, fleshlight, lube, and even the self fucking 6" realistic dong I bought but still hadn't tried.
I left the gym, sweaty, ripe, turned on, incredibly frustrated, and in a foul mood. Since the locker room was totally empty I didn't bother with showering or changing, knowing my own post-workout stench would just fuel my lust for some raunchy sex but make for even kinkier alone time upon arrival for a multiload night of self-pleasure.
There was a rest stop I thought about checking out, one Hunter and I fucked in a couple of times on our way to or from that had a glory hole, and the idea of being there alone for the first time, free to get on my knees and wait for an anonymous cock to suck or warm hungry mouth presented to slide into had me momentarily excited. It was just before the tree farm and I tried to time things out so I could spend a little time cruising, bust a nut or two, and arrive with plenty of time to complete my family duty. An accident that happened about five miles ahead of me, causing a total standstill, completely blew my chances of that happening. The farm closed at 8 PM and I had to speed the whole way once the road opened up.
I pulled into the empty parking lot as a minivan pulled out with its own fresh-cut tree strapped to the roof and a very smiley man and woman drove off. The snow crunched under my tires until I hit the brakes, coming to an abrupt stop when I saw a bundled up figure jogging over to my car.
"Sorry, we're closed," called out a deep, frustrated voice as I lowered my window.bundled-up
I watched as the bulky shadow got closer, and could make out his features in the spotlight shining from the cabin. The guy looked to be about twenty-two, classically good-looking in a sort of bland, all-American rough-country way - sparse, scraggly beard, pale skin flushed from the cold. He seemed to be of average height and couldn't really tell what type of body was bundled in his thick layers, but what threw me were his eyes. Deep blue, slightly glaring, with an intensity that said "No excuse will change my mind" telling me it didn't matter if I was older, better off, bigger, or how in need I was - he was in control of the lot and I was shit out of luck.
"Please!" I begged, "I'll be fast really! I just need a tree, some wreaths, and a couple of bows. That's it!" I couldn't believe how desperate and frantic I sounded as he held his unwavering glare, "I have cash!"
He let out a heavy sigh of frustration.
"Come on, I'm not picky! You must know which tree is good, I don't need the whole experience, just a fucking tree."
He seemed to think about it for a second, his scowl softened briefly before returning.
`Well this is fucking great... I'll have to wake up at the crack of dawn to come back and get home before the family arrives. Which means no morning wank...' I thought to myself. I was only about an hour away from home but there was absolutely nothing on the way in between. I obviously didn't remember I could've just gone into the wooded acres surrounding the cabin and cut one down for free without my mother having a clue.
"I'll pay double!" I heard myself blurt out.
He fought the smile tugging at the corner of his thin, chapped lips and let out another heavy sigh reminding me of how inconvenient my arrival was for him.
"What size..."
"Big - at least Eigh... nine - nine feet. And thick!" I spat out in panic. "Maybe even 10 if you think it will fit," I didn't mean to make it sound sexual but the smirk on his face made me blush, "On the roof!"
I would have absolutely flirted and leaned into the innuendos but this kid looked a little too rough and not one that would take too kindly to an advance if it wasn't wanted. I couldn't tell if the intensity in his eyes was simply from frustration after a long day or deep-seated hatred towards me being from the city and gay. My charm has gotten me out of some sticky situations, been the reason for discounts, and many other perks when laid on thick, but he was having none of it.
"Alright. Pull over there. But I'm using the chainsaw, not gonna wait around for you to try and wield an ax for the first time like in some goddamn movie."
"No problem! Thank you!"
The experience wasn't going to be pleasant, but it was going to be over soon enough and I'd be on my way to a night of solo relief.
I pulled over, grabbed my coat, and instantly regretted my choice of gym attire. Since I was feeling slutty and hoping for sweaty gym action, I only wore a pair of black running tights, and a compression tank top, not completely obscene in the city or at the gym but out here in the middle of nowhere I looked ridiculous and my puffy ski jacket only just reached my waist, doing little to cover my skin tight nylon clad ass or bulge. I looked like a lollipop.
To make matters worse, in a moment of horny optimism, I wore my favorite yellow jockstrap underneath to signal I was open to some wet play at the gym, knowing the contrasting band would peek out from time to time. At least the freezing cold softened the semi I've had since I got to the gym - it practically shriveled inside of me when I stepped out of the car. I'm seven and a half inches hard, eight if I'm really turned on, about four soft, pretty thick, but my balls are big and hang low, and when in the confines of a jockstrap, my pouch is quite prominent, normally.
My greedy little elf was already walking toward the further rows of towering, snow-dusted trees. By the time I caught up to him, he turned and pointed to a beast of green.
"Ten footer - $350 so that'll be $700 for you," he said with a cheeky grin.
I couldn't suppress the guffaw of disbelief that escaped my mouth but thought better than to protest outright as his face stiffened again. The inner child in me lit up briefly, always wanting to get the biggest tree possible, but then reality set in
"Umm that's massive, I don't think it will fit..."
"I can always make it fit," he said with a slightly playful tone and a glimmer in his eye.
If I wasn't still in sticker shock, I might have thought he was being suggestive, maybe even flirtatious again.
"Umm if you're sure..."
I had no way out and no clue how I got into this position in the first place but something about his icy stare intimidated the fuck out of me in a way I wasn't used to.
"Better stand back."
Before I realized what he said or could sputter out a protest, he ripped the cord on the chain saw, filling the quiet, still night with an angry rawr, and I watched in horror as ten feet of Balsam Fir crashed to the snow-covered ground in front of me with a resounding thud a mere foot away from my feet.
What the fuck did I just do?
I swear I saw him chuckle at the look of shock and panic on my face but without another word, he walked to the freshly sawed base, grabbed the thick trunk, and started dragging it from where it's roots stayed buried under the frozen ground to be a temporary source of cheer for my family's holiday - far bigger than we've ever had before. As he dragged the base past me I realized I was going to need to ask for something else.
"You need help?" I offered, hoping it would soften the blow of my new request.
He stops, looking annoyed, which is really getting old seeing as how he is going to make more from this now murdered tree than he probably did all day.
"Sure," he said, dropping the base of the tree and backing up to pick up the top.
My sneakers crunching in the snow was the only sound in the quiet night as I dutifully approached, then turned to face away from him. I bent down to pick up the trunk, silently cursing myself for getting into this mess, and as I did, I felt the cold December air tickle the hairy exposed cleft of my perky, bare ass. My face flushed as I realized he probably got a clear view of the thick yellow band, embroidered with the words "NASTY PIG" and the brand's swine logo embroidered, of my jockstrap when my tights rode down and my jacket rose up. I couldn't do anything about it either, I needed both hands to carry the enormous tree I just spent a fortune on.
"Just up by the shed," he muttered from behind.
Even the bitter cold was not enough to prevent sweat from forming under the down layers of my coat, reactivating the muskiness of my furry body as I struggled to lug the heavy tree, convinced he was barely holding the tapered top ten feet behind me. As we got close enough to the netting tube that would harness the beast of Christmas tradition, I felt the extra gravitational pull as he dropped his end, practically throwing me off balance and ripping the trunk out of my hands.
"Thanks, again, really," I said with as appreciative a smile as I could muster, finally pulling down my jacket that had ridden up into a crop top, while trying to ease the tension of my additional ask, "Umm could you put a stand on it too?"
He stared at me, eyebrow cocked, visibly annoyed.
"Sorry, it's just the one I have at home won't fit this girth," I said then blushed at my choice of descriptive word.
Why did I feel so intimidated by this kid? I was successful, attractive, proudly out, and no stranger to dominating twinks like him in the bedroom. Why did I feel like such a helpless faggot?
"Yeah, it's extra. Go on over there, pick out your wreaths, I'll get this tied up."
"Thanks."
I trudged over to the dimly lit side of the cabin/office and picked up a few thick rings of greenery and a few garlands. `Might as well load up at this point I reasoned,' filling my arms with whatever I could carry, hoping the extra greenery will bring some joy to this shitty experience. When I dragged them over to where I left the tree, the young fucker ripping me off was gone. I spun around and saw to my relief, he and another man, also layered in bulky winter clothes, were strapping the beast of Christmas to the roof of my Range Rover. I scurried over to them lugging the wreaths and garlands to make sure they didn't scratch the paint or need assistance with some relief that this nightmare was almost over. By the time I made it, it was already secure and the other ruffian was heading back inside before I could even get a look at him, leaving my tormentor standing there looking not at all amused.
"This looks like the fucking Grizwald's tree!" I said laughing at the ridiculousness of the ten-foot evergreen strapped to my SUV that suddenly looked like a toy car, hoping to lighten the mood to no avail, "So I got these here too..." I continued, holding up my arms for him to take count.
"Alright," he opened the trunk for me, a very kind and unexpected gesture, and started walking toward the cabin, "Come in to settle up."
Part of me was tempted to just jump in the car and drive off, I mean I'm probably going to spend a grand and this punk couldn't even fake a smile. I was fuming but my morals, and knowing my mother would have a fit if I didn't pick up the fucking red bows forced me to slam the trunk and let out a guttural groan as I turned back to the glowing cabin in the dark forest.
My legs were burning from the cold underneath the thin lycra and my feet were practically numb in my snow-caked sneakers, but I crunched through the powder obediently - sweaty, flustered, freezing, and desperate to be done with this wretched experience. As soon as I let myself into the small cabin, I felt some much-needed warmth on my face and the smell of pine mixed with that heady scent of musky, sweaty men filled my nose while the sound of The Grinch played in the background.
The space was small, littered with branches and pine needles, cluttered with what you would expect for a Tree farm at the end of the day, but the warm glow of the old-fashioned Christmas lights and the red embers in the potbelly fireplace softened the frostiness in my body and mood. As my eyes scanned the makeshift office for my asshole helper, a set of bright green eyes smiled at me warmly under a set of thick black brows.
"Jake'll be right out," said the owner of the kind eyes that lingered on me briefly before averting back to the tv.
Fuck, why couldn't that guy have been outside when I pulled in? Or even the tall guy standing next to him, watching the classic Christmas cartoon while harnessing branches into a circle methodically?
Green eyes was fucking hot, about my height, dark thick trimmed beard that contoured his strong jawline and high cheekbones, shaggy brown hair matted down under a knit hat that had ridden up on top of his head. His broad frame was hidden under a thick flannel jacket but I imagined he was quite fit from all the labor of lugging trees around this place. The wreath maker was taller, with similar features but slim, almost lanky in his oversized hoodie and baggy jeans, not quite as striking - a bit nerdy to be honest. He wore wire-rim glasses that sat on the tip of his prominent nose, but not someone I would turn down if there was an opportunity. They both seemed to be in their early twenties and even though I typically go for older, my mind started to wander. I felt not only my body thaw but also my shriveled package.
"That'll be 1300, cash only," I heard a voice from behind me that was unfortunately familiar by then.
Green eyes and glasses both looked up in surprise in time to catch my eyes bulging and jaw falling open.
Luckily I had pulled out a wad of cash before leaving the city, planning to go to the Christmas market in town for some last-minute gifts as well as the tree, but hearing the total made me feel sick. Too sick to ask for a breakdown of what I was being fucked over for.
"Sure... umm, just - need those bows..." I asked with hesitation.
"Hey Judd, we got any bows left?" Jake called toward the back room.
I was about to go ape shit, the only fucking rationale I had for this whole nightmare was because of the fucking ribbons, and if they didn't have...
"What was that?" a deep burly voice said and I turned to see a giant of a man come from the back room, ducking under the doorway with friendly eyes that practically twinkled.
I stood speechless taking in the epitome of a lumberjack fantasy. He was easily 6'5", with wavy shoulder-length brown hair and a long dark beard highlighted by patches of silver, a broad barrel chest under a black and red flannel shirt with a thick tuft of dark fur peaking over the undone top button, and two straining straps of suspenders framing his torso, holding up a pair of snug, well-worn jeans that clung to his strong legs. He could've been Green Eyes's father, but not quite old enough and even more striking.
"Bows, he needs some bows," said my unphased attendee.
"I'm sure we do, how many," he asked with a smile, and his kindness was greatly appreciated, almost making up for the shitty experience.
"Umm, ten, or as many as you have left?" I stuttered, too distracted to calculate my actual need.
"Yup, in the back, they're flat so you need to fluff em up, Jake"
The two guys standing by the TV chuckled.
Daddy Judd, the man of my jerk-off fantasy later that night, rolled his eyes, "I'm off boys, see you in the morning," he then smiled at me and said "Merry Christmas"
I just about melted when he followed with a wink. I wanted to chase after him and offer myself to be used in any way he wanted but the glaring, expectant look from the little shit who I learned was named Jake, brought me back to reality.
"Don't worry," the boy with bright green eyes said, "Jake knows how to fluff."
This made him and the guy with glasses laugh and Jake scowled as he walked toward the back room.
"Oh it's fine, I can fluff them," I said, hoping to not create any more trouble, not quite getting the childish humor.
"So you're a fluffer?"
That's when it hit me, and my face seared red with embarrassment.
"$1400," Jake said, holding out a stack of flattened red velvet ribbons.
I couldn't believe it! I was outraged, fed up, and yet still too humiliated to protest.
My eyes returned to their widened state and I couldn't help stifling a laugh in disbelief as I fished out a wad of cash. When I looked up the other two guys looked almost sympathetic as I handed over $800 more than I should have for something that would be thrown out in a week.
In a rash decision, I added two extra hundreds, as a silent, last-ditch effort to claim my power and show I was unphased by the taunting. Not wanting to spend another second inside or wait for any further embarrassment, I gave a forced smile and turned on my heels.
"Merry Christmas, Thanks again," I said, heading out the door and practically taking off in a sprint.
The interior of my car had chilled but with the frustration and growing anger and sweat formed from standing uncomfortably in the warm cabin, I welcomed the cold air on my damp body, feeling the musky steam radiate as I unzipped my coat. I punched the ignition as I let out a deep growl mixed with rage and humiliation.
That fucker! How... no WHY did I let him take advantage of me? Was it the unresolved emotions from doing this, and facing Christmas, as a single man? Was it my pent-up sexual frustration and desperate need to get home, strip down and blow my four-day load? Why the fuck did I lose my composure so easily? Where was the dominant, savvy, business mindset that made me so successful with negotiations?
"Fuck!!!!!!" I yelled out and slammed my fist against the steering wheel.
`Whatever! It's done!' I muttered to myself.
I'll just jerk off later to that fucking hunk of man and it will be worth it. Thinking of the Lumberjack named Judd reminded me of the suggestive jokes - girth, make it fit, fluffer - the bright green eyes, the smell of testosterone, and my cock started to stretch my tights again.
Were they flirting? Did I have a chance at possibly sucking off these straight country boys?
Suddenly a burst of confidence and a surge of horniness had me turning the car off and running back inside, convinced I could shoot my shot and I was just oblivious to their overt advances earlier.
"Hey... I..." I started to say as I swung the door open but realized I had no idea how to make a move and suddenly lost my nerve as Jake and Glasses looked up at me slightly startled, "Hey, sorry, mind if I use your bathroom?"
"Sure," Glasses shrugged.
"Just through there," Jake pointed, uncharacteristically polite yet with a glint of evil in his smirk.
I walked through the doorway Daddy Judd had emerged from earlier and saw a door with a generic restroom sign on it, cracked enough to let warm yellow light through the frame and indicate it wasn't occupied.
I swung the door open and froze - standing there, holding a thick, flaccid, uncut cock, now only in a tight long sleeve thermal, stretched over his well-formed chest with his jeans puddled around his bulging calves, was the striking green-eyed boy.
"Hey Fluffer," he smiled at me, unphased, almost as if he expected me, with a glint in his dazzling eyes as my mouth went dry and his hand slowly stroked his heavy meat.
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