Date: Thu, 20 Nov 2014 06:48:48 -0500
From: bldhrymn@aol.com
Subject: The Old Cockerel Inn

The Old Cockerel Inn

By Bald Hairy Man

This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex.  If this offends or
bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a
discussion of safe sex. If you have any comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com

If you enjoy these stories, please consider giving a donation to Nifty!

Uncle Elliot was a handsome, intelligent and creative man, who lacked one
basic ingredient for success, common sense. He inherited his grandparents'
large house that had once been a country inn. The Old Cockerel was built
around 1810 and was successful until the town it served failed and the road
was shifted a mile to the east. It is a big and handsome house.

Elliott's grandparents restored it as their home. I was secluded in the
middle of what had become a 250-acre farm. Second growth covered the entire
property, most of which was fifty-years-old now. Elliot decided to turn it
into summer camp for affluent children, then into country spa and retreat.
He was scheming to turn it into a country club when he died. Each of these
potential schemes left some physical reminders. There was a pool, a large
locker and shower room and other bits of equipment scattered around the
property.

Nothing approached being completed. The house came with quite a bit of
money, but Elliot's projects squandered the assets. He completed one
project. He drank himself to death. He left the house and property to me. I
am Robert Elliot Spencer.  I was the only relative who liked the Inn and
was at all close to him.

The Old Cockerel had four big bedrooms and a finished attic. The attic was
single, large room once slept 20 men. These were the dime beds for poorer
people. The bedrooms were huge and held four to six people. This was
typical of early inns.  Some families would rent an entire room and use it
as an apartment.

To the back of the main block was a large servants' wing with a kitchen
below and a big room above. Elliot converted this room into the
shower-locker for the summer camp. That end of the house sat at the foot of
a hill. There had been a barn there, but it fell down years earlier. The
granite foundations of the barn provided the enclosure for the pool.  You
reached it by a bridge from the showers. It was a private pool. Elliot told
me that he skinny-dipped in the pool. Elliot was gay as am I. I had heard
relatives whispering about that.  Somehow, he knew I was gay.  We never did
anything, but we did talk some.  He was the only adult I could talk to
about that sort of thing. That is the reason why he left it to me in his
will.

Elliot had many friends and entertained regularly.  He was not prudish at
all and he told me his parties were wild. A good portion of the gay men
within a hundred miles had been to a party at the Inn. Since the Inn sat
near the middle of the property, there was no public aspect to the parties,
no one knew about them except for invited guests.

Apparently, many men thought of it as a men's club. They came by when they
felt like it and socialized with whoever was there. I was a minor and Jock
never did or suggested anything inappropriate.  I never visited during a
party, but I figured out that what he called socialization involved sexual
activities most of the time. If you drank too much or got lucky, you might
spend the night in the attic room and shower in back wing.

Uncle Elliot and I were friendly, but not close.  He was my mother's
brother and she was one of the few members of the family to keep in touch
with him. We visited once or twice a year. In my last year of college, I
dropped in unexpectedly. He was out, but his best friend, Jock Jameson, met
me. I was still in the closet then. Jock was worried I would be shocked at
the goings on. I was shocked, but in a good way. It seemed to me that
everyone was naked or on the way to being naked. That was a surprise. I was
shocked that they were so comfortable and at ease, both with nudity and
with sexuality.

Uncle Elliott called later and said he would not be back until the next
morning. That meant he was on a bender. My Uncle did not drink and drive.
Jock did not tell him I was there. I told Jock I was gay, but
inexperienced. He asked if I wanted to stay inexperienced. I said no.

Looking back, finding a young, inexperienced and willing man was a dream
come true for many of the men.  It is the standard gay video plot. No one
was shy or embarrassed at openly displaying their affections or desires. I
was fresh meat, but no one was pushy. They were all ready to help however.

I stayed in the attic with four men and showered in the old servants'
quarters. It was an old school type gang shower, left over from the plan to
make the place into a summer camp. I had sucked and been sucked
before. That had been with other students.  I had never been with older men
and I had never been with men as old as Elliot's friends were.  Most were
over fifty and many were older than that. No one had taken my load and I
had never fucked. I told a man named Rudy that information.  He got
excited. There were no secrets at the Inn and soon everyone knew and was
willing to help me.

I went swimming and I saw two of the men naked.  I dropped my trunks and
joined them. I think it must have been two or three seconds later when
every man at the pool was naked. Jock was a big man in every way. He had
been a house builder, carpenter and was big, brawny and attractive. He was
bald and had a bushy, blond beard.  He looked a bit like Grizzly Adams.

Rudy was smaller, and not good-looking.  He was an exceptionally hairy auto
mechanic. I did not catch the other men's names, but everyone was
friendly. We played in the water. There was nothing sexual going on except
bumping into one another.

Two men were in the corner. I talked with them and realized they were
stroking under the water. As a normal young man, I got hard too. It tells
you how inexperienced I was that the erection embarrassed me. I did not
know if it would bother them. It didn't. They came closer to me and our
cocks touched under water. That excited me greatly.

My erection was the starting bell for the rest of the day's activities. All
of the men were interested in me, but not pushy. The men I was with, Lance
and Buddy were a florist and a truck driver. Lance told me I could
pick-and-choose any man in the group.

"Lance and I are old friends and lovers," Buddy said. "Lance is what your
Uncle Elliot calls a sexually generous man. I think of him as a cum
hound. He loves the white creamy stuff. He's a nice guy but remember; he
wants to drain you balls."

"Does that bother you?" I asked.

"Hell no, I knew he was a slut when I met him," Buddy said. "He's eaten so
much of my sperm we are almost brothers."

"If we are telling tales, Buddy is after your ass.  He loves to fuck,"
Lance said. "The word is that you have never fucked?"

"Not yet," I said.

"I would guess that everyone here is willing to let you in his ass," Lance
said. "If you want to try the bottom, Buddy is the man for you. His cock is
long and thin.  It is an easy fit, but does the job. He also has great
control. If you are uneasy about a guy shooting his load in your rear end,
he can hold off. There are no accidents."

"I think you are giving Bob more information than is necessary," Buddy
said. "You just take it easy and go with the flow. No one here is going to
die of sex depravation if you aren't in the mood. Sucking is easy, as Lance
can tell you. Fucking is more complicated. It doesn't work for everyone and
sometimes it can hurt. It's really helpful if you like the guy who is
trying to shove his cock up your ass."

We talked a little longer and then I went swimming again. When I got out of
the water, I sat with Jock and a heavy, older man. He was hairy, with big
balls but not much cock. Buddy introduced him as Sandy Arvainian.  He owned
a restaurant.

Jock looked good when he was dressed. He looked great naked. We were in the
sun and his big balls hung low. He was uncut and I could tell it would be
impressive when erect. I thought about my conversation with Buddy. I had a
feeling I would like to have Jock in me. I got hard as I thought about
it. Jock went off to get some drinks.

"You have a beauty there," Sandy said.

"I'm embarrassed," I said.

"It is not a problem here. naked men can't hide a stiffy. It's nice to know
you are interested," he said. "I assume Jock was your inspiration?"  I
nodded.

"He inspires me too. He a nice guy and well hung," Sandy said. "I am well
hung too, if diameter counts. Lance likes me because I shoot a big
load. I've got good balls."

"You sure are hairy," I said.

"That is a gift from my Armenian parents. All the men in my family are
hairy.  I always thought it was masculine," he said. "Right now it seems
the preference is for hairless twinks." His cock began to firm up. It was
thick and peeked out from his dense bush.

Lance must have possessed erection-detection radar. He came over to us.

"I was hoping for a snack of man caviar," he said as he dropped to his
knees and buried his face in Sandy's crotch.  Sandy looked at my cock and
winked. We were the only ones still at the pool. I stood and my cock was at
his mouth level.  I moved closer and he sucked me. He was a good sucker and
seemed to enjoy it. I became excited and shot off in his mouth. He liked
that too. I pulled away after my last ejaculation.  Sandy shot off and
Lance took the load.

When Lance pulled off, I saw there was still a little cream on Sandy's
slit. His knob was big and the slit was wide. I leaned over and licked it
working my tongue into the slit.  This must have excited Sandy; he had a
late ejaculation and I took that too. It was hot, thick and creamy.  I had
tasted my own sperm and tasted a playmate's cream by accident a few
times. Lance had called it cock caviar, and that is the way Sandy's sperm
seemed to me.

Jock made dinner for Lance, Sandy, Buddy and me. It was burgers and fries
and it hit the spot. It was getting dark outside when two other men dropped
in, Louis and Mac. They were Jock's friends. Apparently, there was a
personal problem of some sort so I went upstairs to give them some
privacy. I had a bedroom on the second floor, but the only private bath was
Uncle Elliot's room. I went to the locker room-shower in the back wing.

As soon as I turned on the shower, Sandy appeared and joined me. Buddy
arrived a minute later.

"Lance told me you guys exchanged the secret handshake this afternoon,"
Buddy said. "Welcome to the fraternity!"

"I didn't do much," I protested.

"There is something about this place that makes you let your hair down and
get your cock up," Buddy continued. "Maybe there is something in the
water. I don't know, but there is something. When I came here the first
time, I was a shy country boy. I needed complete privacy and near total
darkness to consider sex. I was looking for Mr. Right."

"Your Uncle told me that considering a selection of Mr. Right-Nows was a
better approach," he continued. "I told him I was saving myself. Elliot
told me I would never pass for a blushing virgin. He said that a little
sluttiness and being a nice guy once you got to know me, might be a better
approach. Well, I did not go full slut, but I put some mileage on my cock
by pounding a few asses. I buffed and shined a few prostates and I found
Lance."

"Lance is not the blushing virgin, is he?"

"I don't think the word virgin has ever come up in connection with Lance,"
Buddy admitted. "Earlier, I had crossed him off my list during my search
for Mr. Right. I gave him a try out for Mr. Right Now and it was a
success. He was not much of a bottom, but I told him I needed to fuck
someone, and Lance tends to be charitable. It was a perfect fit and he
loved it. I did too. I soon discovered he was a nice guy, and his cum hound
activities were just a hobby."

"That a nice story, but please don't discourage him from his cum sucking,"
Sandy said. "He is a wonder."

Buddy laughed. "There is no way to discourage that," he said. "He liked you
too. He waxes lyrical when he describes your orgasms. He say you have a
special ingredient in your semen that drives him wild." Buddy had a little
bottle hanging on a necklace. I asked him what it was.

"It is lube," he said. "I keep it handy in case I find someone I want to
fuck." I knew he wanted to fuck me. Sandy was in his knees, sucking me with
great skill.

Buddy was behind me and put his arms around me. "I like being the first. I
love to be the first to get into unexplored territory. I'm real careful and
gentle. No one has ever wanted to be virgin again. They all come back for
more," he whispered.

"Will it hurt?"

"It might. Usually it doesn't, but I will pull out if there is a problem,"
Buddy said. "I'd love to shoot in you, but I'll give you warning. I can
pull out if you want me to do that. The lube is Lance's man seed.  It is
really slippery and usually does the trick."

"Let's give it a try," I said. Buddy knew his stuff. He coated his cock
with Lance's homemade lube and eased his way into me. It was easy and
pleasurable.  I knew men fucked, but I did not know the bottom could enjoy
it. A little gland in my ass called the prostate thought it was the 4th of
July and provided some fireworks. I spent the night with Lance and Buddy;
it was a good.

My Uncle returned the next morning and the sexual adventures ended. We
talked family and my life at college. He was always interested and
supportive.

Elliott died peacefully eight years later.  I had seen my Uncle a number of
times over the years and I knew he was declining. I was expecting his
death. I was the sole heir.

I reconnected with Jock and most of the men I had met at the Inn at the
funeral. It was a big funeral and my Uncle had many friends. I suspected
most had been to parties at the Inn.  They were a mixed bag of men, old and
young, professionals and laborers.  They had one common characteristic;
they were all pleasant and affable.

Jock and several other men came back to the Inn after the burial. I
remembered Rudy and Sandy, but did not know Sheriff Knowles, Dale Smith and
Greg Miller. Jock said he had some things he needed to tell me. I knew that
my Uncle had not been a good at business and I assumed it was bad news.

"Your uncle lost interest in running things a while ago," Jock
explained. "He made a gentleman's agreement to let me run the place.  Dale
is my accountant, and Greg is a caterer. We have been doing that for six
years. The Inn had been sort of a day camp, or club. To be direct, it has
been a sex club. The Old Cockerel has been making a profit. There is no
debt and there is money in the bank. It was a gentleman's agreement, not a
written one. That is why Sheriff Knowles is here. He is a friend who had
has picked up Elliott from a street corner where he had blacked out and
brought him home a good many times."

"He was a witness to the agreement. By the way, he is a regular visitor to
the Inn. Given the nature of the business, it would be hard to explain the
function of the Inn. Are you interested in continuing the function of the
Inn? Do you intend to sell it, or do you have other plans?

I am a computer nerd, and worked on special projects involving
programming. I could do all of my work remotely, so I was thinking about
giving up my apartment and moving to the Inn. I told them that, but I had
not though beyond that.

"What actually goes on here?" I asked.

"Officially it is a day spa, with an overnight option," Knowles said. "I
think would be best described as a sex resort. We have memberships and a
daily fee. Greg provides food. Some members have free admittance if they
are accommodating. They do not charge for helping men in need, so it isn't
prostitution.  They do get to enjoy themselves."

"You are making money with this?" I asked.

"We are doing well. Most of our patrons arrange to meet a friend
here. Others just come by to see what is going on. Sometimes it is sexual.
Other times it is very sexual. It depends on who shows up and their
attitudes. Day times are usually calm and quiet. Evenings and weekends can
be quite busy," Dale said. "All of our patrons seem happy with the
arrangement and the pricing. We have patrons from Washington D. C.,
Baltimore and Charlotte. We have had some groups visit on the
weekends. There is no advertising; it is all word of mouth."

"I cook everything at my restaurant, so all the food is strictly
catered. That eliminates any Health Department problems. The Sheriff
resolves any behavior problems," Jock said.

"Membership is a good perk for some of my men. They get to let off some
steam in a safe place," Knowles added. "The word got out and we have some
troopers, federal agents and firemen who visit. That seems to be good for
everyone."

"What do you need from me?" I asked.

"We wondered if you wanted to live here. That was fine for Elliott who
liked the activity, but might be a problem for you. We also need to know if
you want the agreement to continue. An oral agreement with a man who had
died is problematic," Dale said.

"There is one other thing. Elliott said he wanted his friends to celebrate
his funeral with a blowout party. I think you knew him well enough to know
what sort of a party he wanted," Jock said. We talked for quite a while. I
eventually suggested that we keep things going as they were for a while. We
could adjust the oral agreement as necessary once I knew what it would be
like.

I had been worried that I could not afford to stay at the Inn.  Since it
was making income, the situation changed greatly. While I was not sure I
wanted the amount of sexual activity the Inn offered, I certainly was
willing to give it a try. We decided to re-open Inn in three days and have
the party for Elliott on Saturday. Everyone thought that was a good way to
resolve the problem.

When Uncle Elliott was alive, there was no sexual activity at the Inn while
I visited. My uncle was not into young men, least of all his nephew. I
don't think he knew about my college visit with Jock and his pals. I was
excited at the prospect of sexual fun, but uneasy too. I hoped all the men
who patronized the Inn were as nice as the men I met previously.

The gay telegraph was efficient and men arrived at nine on the morning the
day we reopened. Greg's catering truck had arrived an hour before. I was
checking out the Inn with Jock and Jeff, the janitor. Jeff worked with a
young man named Robin who changed the beds.  It was clear that Jeff had an
efficient system, and he could keep the place clean with minimal effort.
He was a construction worker who had hurt his back. Jack could fix almost
anything as long as it did not involve heavy lifting.  Robin was a young,
energetic and beefy muscleman. I had the feeling he was not bright, but he
could do what he was told without complaint. It did not take me long to
understand that Robin and Jeff had a relationship.

They went off to do the daily clean up and Jock and I had a chance to talk
alone.  I asked him about Jeff and Robin.

"They started out as playmates and turned into friends. Jeff is a father
figure and mentor. This may sound odd, but he is sort of a father figure
with benefits," Jock said. "I think Robin confused sex with love. It does
happen, but it "ain't necessarily so" as the song says. Robin thought that
every time he blew a man it was a lifetime commitment.  Jeff straightened
that out."

"Are most relationships superficial here?" I asked.

"No, most relationships are pleasurable and fun. Some turn into something
else, but there is nothing wrong with either type," he said. "I don't wear
my heart on my sleeve. I like sex, but I don't get infatuated and I don't
fall in love weekly. I do have friends and a regular sexual connection
seems to turn into friendship easily. For most men there is only room for
one lover, but you can have as many friends as you want."

"Friends with benefits?" I asked.

"That's the way I like it," Jock said. "To be completely straight with you,
the benefits are the part I like the most." He paused. "I don't know if you
have reached the stage when taking a load in the ass is fun and a good way
to avoid making a mess on the sheets?"

"I would love to have yours in me," I said.

Jock smiled.