Dear Reader: This is a continuation of Chapter Three of "Uncle Tom's Cabin". Thank you for wanting me to keep adding to it, and I really appreciate your kind emails. Here are the next chapters.....
"UNCLE TOM'S CABIN"
[Chapter Three......continued.....]
I dared to jack his King Kong, amazed at how loose the tender skin was--how rock- hard the shaft beneath it was! His cockhead mushroomed at my touch and clear candy dripped from the spread open lips of its mouth.
"I totally love it," I breathed out. "What a big hard bitchin' cock!"
More juice dripped and drooled at my words, and then I felt his big hand wrap around my own hard dick.
"A perfect cock," Uncle Tom said, his voice husky all of a sudden. "This is one.... perfect....cock."
I couldn't help it, and moaned, my hips pushing my thick rod further into his grasp. His fingers just fit its girth, and he pumped it like the man he was, making shocks go through me. My balls flopped around against my thighs.
I moaned again, feeling a swoon of such deep, deep joy, I thought my heart had stopped beating.
"Too much, huh?", Uncle Tom said, relaxing his grip.
"I-It's like electricity," I said, my voice shaky. "Yours, too?" I squeezed his incredible muscle.
Uncle Tom's eyes closed. "When you do it....", he swallowed, his Adam's Apple working, "....when you do it, it feels like firewords going off."
I let my fingers play in the deep pile of his cockbush. I was surprised how silky it was, yet so thick. It made me want to push my face into it---feel it with my nose. Hell, it made me want to comb it, brush it--stack it all around his giant dick. It was a man's bush.
Tom dallied in my own wheatfield of curls, his fingers making the hair come alive and tickle the sides of my skintight rod. It made me proud I had such a manly pile between my smooth thighs.
"Sweet," Uncle Tom said. "Tonight I'm going to kiss you down there."
I shuddered over his deep-voiced promise. My dick bounced upwards--connecting with his fingers--and then a drool of pre-come spilled over my fat crown.
"Oh yeah," Tom said, watching my dick juice. "That's a perfect, perfect cock."
My hand moved up over his smooth, hard, muscular belly, ruffling the tiny hairs leading to his bellybutton. I stuck my little finger in the hole.
"Awwwh, man!", I whispered. It was so private, so hot...so deep and sexy.
Uncle Tom smiled as my hand travlled up the ripples of his standout abs. He watched my fingers dig into the hairy canyon between his huge pecs. And he flexed them to make the nipples stand up at attention.
I cupped my palm over his right slab, feeling the utter power--the hairy, muscular power of a real man's chest. Still flexing, the mountain-sized swell was impossible to squeeze. Uncle Tom relaxed, and suddenly I could play with his beautiful pecs and comb my fingers through the field of black hair.
Not wanting to deny him, I flexed my own big boy chest, and he brought his hand up my smooth, rolling abs to then gently rub his hair-tufted knuckles over my nipple. It contracted and drew up into a spike against them--and then he just opened his hand and squeezed my whole thick pec.
I jittered around in my chair, his hot hand driving me wild. My nipples are super- sensitive and his hand was muscular and sexy. Seeing my shuddering reaction, Uncle Tom relaxed and then used his baby finger to thrum my nipple, teasing its jutting resistance.
I pinched his own thick nipple between my thumb and first finger, and Tom let out a deep, growling moan. I quickly rubbed it more gently, turned-on by his ultra-masculine tits. It was so hot to see his eyes worshipping my young pecs---his hand toying with my stiff nub--feeling my swollen chest muscles.
"Your skin is so smooth," Uncle Tom said, staring at my pecs.
My fingers couldn't get enough of his hairy chest. They rifled though the masculine carpet, travelling over those twin mountains.
"Would you...you know...flex your arm?", I asked him.
And Uncle Tom lifted his forearm up to make his bicep into solid rock. Its heat washed over my face. I stared in disbelief. I raised my hand up to explore the awesome size of his strength. There was no give to the skin--I couldn't press into it, or hold it. I could only try and cup the upper third, the size of a shotput.
Uncle Tom relaxed it, giving me a slight smile.
"You can use it for your pillow," he said. "I want to make sure you always feel safe." Then he looked down at my own arm.
I flexed it for him, not ashamed of showing it off.
He couldn't squeeze mine any either, and seemed to love not being able to. He whistled softly. "This'll be my pillow," he said.
We returned to sipping our beers--looking out into the purply-shadowed lawn-- and my whole body vibrated with pride.
We let our free hands go wherever they pleased--feeling up deltoids and hard bellies and balls.
Seeing the sun turning golden and the air growing October cool, our hands once again went in to take hold of our big cocks. Uncle Tom put his beer on the porch floor, me following his lead.
Knowing this was finally it, we both shifted sideways in our chairs and brought our feet down onto the porch. With our torsos turned towards each other, we began a slow milking of one another's cocks.
It's hard to describe all the feelings.
My cock sure loved Uncle Tom's masculine, sexy grip--and my hands sure adored the challenge of jacking his beautiful whopper. My eyes gazed at the sworls of hair buried in Uncle Tom's crotch--then at the mounding, relaxing power of his bicep as he pumped me. His nipples poked from the field of hair, and we were so close together, I could feel the heat of his body radiating over mine in the late afternoon chill.
Beyond the needy, pleasure-demanding hunger of my cock as he pumped it, I felt the thrill of just being there naked on the front porch. Gone was my disbelief that Uncle Tom liked me. Gone was my embarrassment over being turned-on in his presence. Gone were my fears, my doubts, my self-conscious hesitation.
A rush of pure, total joy took me over.
I pushed my hips out to feed Uncle Tom more cock. He did the same, me watching his ballbag flop between his thighs. We brought our free hands over to play with each other's tits and feel up our biceps as they pumped cock.
A million feelings surrounded my hot dick as our pumping increased. My mouth fell open. Uncle Tom's tongue was licking his lower lip and breathing deeply. His curl of hair fell onto his forehead, and then his eyes met mine.
His were deep and green, looking vulnerable and confident altogether. With our hands flying over naked cock, our eyes traded looks of sweet pleasure, telling ourselves how hot and erotic it was--how horny to be nude and turned-on to each other.
But we didn't speak, because we couldn't.
I had no mind left. I had only cock--hard cock and a bursting heart. My heart felt seized with such great joy, I thought it might explode. My cock stiffened into one giant muscle in his hand. It wanted only more---more Uncle Tom, more pleasure. Fisting his hugeness turned his into my own. His fist on mine made me fist his even faster.
We began panting, staring down at our flying hands, at the snorting size of our maroon-toned cocks. Out-of-all-control thrills danced up my spine. Our hips began shaking. Our balls rode up into one huge bundle. The skin on his dick was silky and rich--it slipped and slid over his muscular shaft, frictioning the nerve endings, driving Uncle Tom mad. It fed my hand--and I loved every inch of those ten huge inches.
"Oh--oh, Billy," Uncle Tom gasped. His hips suddenly locked in an upward heave.
Seeing his whole, outrageous erection being wildly jacked by my own grip--the splendor of his hairy crotch inches from my staring eyes--I groaned.
My own hips lifted off the chair. We stared at our flexing, rigid nakedness--at flying hands, a look of awed disbelief on our faces.
"Oh Jesus!", I cried out, my face turning to his.
Uncle Tom looked surprised, stunned, in awe. He leaned forward, and I did, too. Our lips panted together and our tongues lashed. At that, our fists went wild--and then we both groaned out our passion.
As though reading each other's need, we both just suddenly squeezed, throttling our on-fire cocks. Our bodies heaved about, our faces suddenly looking straight down.
Two enormous cocks stared back at us--then went off. A seizure of sweet joy grabbed my nuts and sent jizz out like a gyser.
"Oh--oh--oh--oh--OH!"
A blast of white fired onto my straining neck. I stared in thrilled alarm as Uncle Tom's skin cannon fired another across my right nipple. Our gripping fists pumped out more, the huge cocks bucking in pent-up pleasure. Jizz flew and splatted, hips jittering about. We panted and gasped. Shocks rifled through our balls.
And then we kissed some more.
Shudders filled our lips and wracked our bodies. We fisted out jizz, the stuff hot and thick--dripping from our chins, our tits, our drooling cocks.
My hips unlocked as warmth filled my muscles. Uncle Tom smiled into my face, reaching lower to fondle my balls. As our bodies again found our chairs, I spread come all over his huge dick and then played with his pooling nuts.
Only then did the exhaustion of our rigid muscles demand we stop reaching. I let Uncle Tom be, as his hands left my crotch. We stared doown at our jizzed-up bodies. Our bellies were panting and our cocks looked dazed and dripping.
Unspeaking, Uncle Tom and I reached for our beers, raised our legs and planted our feet back up on the railing. Those lusty minutes felt like whole hours--yet the sun was still mellow, the pine and cedar woods still solemn. Little had changed, while nothing was the same. I heard the crows cawing from the pines.
We swallowed some beer, our breathing returning to normal.
"That was hot, Billy," Uncle Tom remarked, his voice husky.
"Oh, man, Uncle Tom!"
He took another swig, and so did I.
"We sure shot our stuff," he said, looking over at me.
I smiled back, wiping a glob of cream from my right nipple. "Nothing like jizz," I announced.
"It bother you?--having my load all over the place?"
I looked at him--at the twinkling pearls caught in his chest hair. "Hell, no," I said back, "We're guys. Guys shoot jizz. It's sexy."
He raised his bottle and drank.
"Sure is," Uncle Tom answered, a big smile on his wide lips.
Chapter Four
As far as I was concerned--sitting there nursing my fifth beer, jizz all over our bodies-- Uncle Tom and I could have agreed to just go bareassed from then on. In my beery state, I even suggested it.
"We won't have to bother with the laundry every week," I grinned at him.
Uncle Tom remained quiet, enjoying the afterglow of it all. I could tell he wasn't keen on the idea. His silences made me stay more calm and centered.
We listened to the birds--to the late afternoon October wind blowing around the tops of the pines.
"Sometimes clothes are sexier than skin," he finally answered. "--and anyway, I'm really pretty damn conservative about these things."
It took showering and a long nap on my bed to make me feel my own familiar shyness again. I woke to a darkened room, smelling Uncle Tom's cooking. My head felt dull, but not achy-- and my mouth felt furry and dry.
For a minute or two it was as though nothing at all had changed. Uncle Tom was whistling to the radio, moving dishes around the kitchen. I was in my room, feeling hungry, happy to be cared for. And the memory of our being naked on the porch together felt made-up--not real.
But everything HAD changed--just how, I wasn't sure.
And I felt shy. I felt unable to walk into the kitchen fully clothed--much less, naked. Uncle Tom's statement--hoping it wasn't simply the beer making us horny--made me wonder whether or not that were so.
Suddenly I felt awkward again--very young, and a little guilty. Maybe he was feeling regretful--wishing it all hadn't happened.
"Hey," I heard a low voice say.
I looked over at the doorway. Uncle Tom's body was silohetted against the light. I could feel his presence across the room.
"My mouth feels like cotton," I said.
He stood there, looking over at me. "You hungover?"
I elbowed my way up onto the pillows. "Not really. A little whoozy, I guess. Are you?"
He shook his head. "I slept, too. You want some soup? I made some soup--chicken."
Uncle Tom seems to know when to speak and when to be quiet. His silences are always peaceful--hardly ever uncomfortable.
I dressed and entered the kitchen, no longer so nervous. And soup was what we both seemed to need. I watched him dip his bread into it, a habit he'd picked up from me.
I smiled. And he looked up and smiled back. He sopped up his soup, then ate slowly.
Uncle Tom isn't much of a smiler. When he does, it speaks way louder than words. This one was strong and warm. It told me we were okay--that what had happened was good. It was cool.
I breathed deeply, feeling better again inside.
His smile made me look at the opened part of his shirt--at the black hair peeking out. I looked at his tremendous arms and shoulders--at how he never hunched over his food the way I sometimes did. Uncle Tom was handsome, and shy and sexy as hell.
He knew I was eyeing him--and he wiped his lips and let his eyes drift over my own muscle-filled shirt.
"It wasn't the beer, you know," I blurted out across the table.
He nodded a little. "I know," he said. "You want some coffee?"
He stood up, his jeans snug around his hips--his plaid flannel shirt neatly tucked-in.
"It'll keep us up," I said.
Uncle Tom brought two mugs over and set one in front of me, then filled it.
My eyes stared at the bulge of his fly, feeling the nearness of his crotch.
"Tomorrow's Saturday," he said, pouring one for himself. "We can sleep in." He sat back down.
Thoughts of my sharing his bed brought heat to my cheeks. I stared at my coffee. Uncle Tom felt my silence and watched me carefully.
"It's new to me, too," he said after a while. "If we didn't have doubts, then I'd worry."
I nodded, then put two sugars in my mug. "Do you hog the sheets?", I asked, trying to joke a little, yet feeling my neck turning pink.
Uncle Tom chuckled a little. "I don't know. We'll find out."
"Can we be naked?", my heart skipped a beat. I felt my cheeks turn red also.
"We can be naked," he answered.
We sipped our coffees, listening to the radio play a fifties song. It was a song about sixteen reasons to love a guy. Uncle Tom hummed it and got up to open the bread box.
He was right about clothes being sexy. With his plaid shirt and jeans on, he made me keep remembering what they were covering up. The stripes were bunched together at his waist, and then grew wider apart along his back . My eyes kept going from his round ass up the spreading plaid to stare at his enormous shoulders--at the mounded stripes of his biceps.
Every shirt Uncle Tom wore didn't hide his muscles--in fact, if anything, his clothes lived and breathed muscle. His jeans left nothing hidden. Yet, I knew that like me, Uncle Tom wore what- ever was handy. Between us, we only owned a few shirts and a couple pair of jeans and overalls.
"Have a cookie," he said.
I looked at his forearm--at the size of it, at the masculine hair below the cuffs--at his large hands. I took the cookie.
"We can eat them on the sofa," he nodded towards the front room. "The woodstove's going. Bring your coffee."
My heart was beating fast when I saw him stretched along the couch, his back up against the far arm. When I approached, he just let his big thighs fall open. He watched me, smiling a bit, and set his mug on the rug.
My coffee nearly spilling, I knelt on the sofa cushion at his bare feet, then turned my back. His hands secured my hips and guided my butt down against his crotch. Watching my coffee, I carefully leaned back to nestle myself against his chest.
The side of Uncle Tom's face was snug above my left ear, his breath washing over my cheekbone. His body was warm, his thighs hugging my waist, his crotch full against my butt.
I was in heaven.
My cock tingled and swelled inside my jeans. I rubbed my bare feet along his calves. I felt wrapped in muscular heat.
Uncle Tom reached down to find his mug and we both sipped our coffees.
"You okay?", he spoke against my curly head.
I nodded, feeling so secure I never wanted to move. I could feel his chest rising and falling into my back as he breathed. It was like leaning against solid pillows, and I could feel his nipples through his shirt.
I leaned my head into his shoulder. My cheek connected with his unshaven jaw, and I thought I'd die, I was so happy.
"How's your coffee?", he asked, his low voice vibrating against my face.
I nodded again. "It's great," I whispered. "--just super."
"I like holding you," Uncle Tom said, taking a sip.
I nodded. "Me, too."
Tom carefully slipped his hand under my arm and cupped my left pec. My nipple stiffened at his touch. He played with it through my shirt.
No sooner did he finger my pec than I felt his big cock harden inside his jeans. He squeezed his thighs, pressing his dick along the crack of my butt. My balls gathered and tingled.
We kept chewing our cookies and sipping coffee, our clothes adding to the thrill of snuggling together.
Up til then, the sofa was where we watched T.V.--sitting apart. I ran my hand along the top of his thigh, no longer needing to watch T.V.
Finishing my coffee, listening to Uncle Tom's breathing, I slowly unbuttoned the front of my shirt. His hand slid inside the opening, fondling my chest, feeling the smoothness, lingering over my nipples. I pressed my face against the strength of his bicep.
"We don't need beer, do we?", Uncle Tom said quietly.
I shook my head against his strong, tanned, leathery neck, smelling his scent.
"This is all I want," I said.
Please look for Part 3 of "Uncle Tom's Cabin", hopefully on screen tomorrow. Thank you for reading my story.