Date: Sat, 21 Feb 2004 07:28:03 +0800
From: tazmania  <tazmania@bolt.com>
Subject: Bus Stop 3

Forty-eight

What else could happen to me? After what Lucas and I have been doing
lately, what else could still sound and look new under the sun? I had
become a boy fucker and that, instead of making me feel ashamed (although I
felt scared sometimes), made me feel hornier. How could that be possible?
How could I attain an erection just by thinking of fucking that devil of a
boy named Lucas? How could my cock get hard and grow longer and fatter
without I even being able to put a stop to it, to will it soft again and be
quiet? It seemed that it had a life of its own, detached from my brain. It
usually would go from a limp appendix between my legs to a raging hard pole
standing up in a matter of seconds when I remembered that particular day
when I fucked him hard, carrying him around the living room and kitchen
with him impaled on my cock as a chicken on a spit. God! That scene kept
filling my mind and kept me longing to put my hands on him again. The
exquisite sensation of my cock totally hidden inside his overstretched
boyhole, the engorged head poking his prostate and the warm feeling
resembling a volcano were enough to make me want to keep fucking him
forever. But that was not all, no! There also was the mental stimulation
that I think is the most important thing when you are making sex. I heard
once from a friend of mine that sex starts in the mind and then, only then,
it goes down and reaches the cock. I have to agree with that because,
although my cock was being over stimulated by the tightness of his
boypussy, what really was driving me wild was the notion that I had the
power to do whatever I wanted to him. He was my puppet and I was his
master. This is a feeling you can only experience when you are fucking. I
remember that I even had the ability to detach myself and do a few
deliberate things to him. Like when I took him to the kitchen and placed
him over the rim of the sink and purposefully I grabbed his cheeks with
both hands, spread them aside and watched as I withdrew ever slowly my fat
pole from his so small asshole, only a thin line around my stretcher then,
the shiny skin covered with a film of lube and his ass juices, and held it
there with only the tip of my head puncturing him. I think it was this
vision that gave me the notion of power over him who remained there totally
given to me, waiting for my next move, knowing in an extra sensorial way
that he was at my mercy. I knew that he was enjoying the fuck as much as I
was (which only added to my escalating pleasure). Still ever so slowly I
moved forward and watched my cock disappear again, very slowly, into the
boy's hole, the wrinkles once again giving way to the intruder who demanded
more room. He moaned as the pressure inside his ass grew and he felt the
presence of my cock stuffing him again. I repeated the process again as I
got hotter and, without any warning, I shoved my hard fucking tool in one
single move into his butt on the third time I pulled it out, and this move
forced an involuntary cry out of Lucas' mouth as I grinded his cheeks and
kept ramming it in, in a sequence of fast, deep strokes, my balls slapping
his small boyish balls. Gosh, man, I am almost cumming now. I've gotta stop
remembering this.

I wish he could show up more frequently, but he didn't. Every morning I
would smoke my cigarette in the veranda and we would talk a little or even
hug and cuddle each other (during those times my cock usually got rock hard
to the point I had to jack off sometimes after he left if I wanted to have
a calm day), but he had the bus to catch and I always had my schedule to
follow too. The ranch was something that took my time and I was not a bit
careless with my things. I had one man who lived in the ranch and took care
of it for me, Andre is his name, but I always liked to be a present person
there. Most of the time I helped Andre with the animals, vaccinating,
feeding, castrating and so many other rural activities that required more
than two hands. Andre was a widower, although he was not forty yet, and,
for some reason, he never got married again. He probably had his affairs
but I never cared about it. I had my own fish to fry to care about my
caretaker's sexual life. Why am I talking about Andre? Because he is part
of what I'm about to tell now, although I don't think I can do that in one
single gulp! Up to this day I still don't understand exactly how things
really escalated to that point and all I can come up with is that they were
meant to be. Having an affair outside your marriage is something quite
common, but when this affairs is with a person of the same sex, and a young
boy to make matters worse, you cannot say it is something you brag about to
anyone. But then something happened and when I realized I had told the
whole story to Andre who became the guardian of my secret sexual life. But
when I think about this I also realize that I became the guardian of
Andre's secrets too. And if you ask me about our secrets I can't say which
one would be more acceptable if word spread around.


Thirty-nine

The first thing people usually ask me is 'how can you stand living alone in
the middle of nowhere?' and I always answer that that is the best part of
life. I like being alone and I like being away from people. I am like the
bear or the moose that is always alone and only join his species when it's
mating season. And even then it is a brief encounter to, then, split
again. I think that the only time I really got together with somebody was
when I was dating my soon-to-be wife and, although I didn't plan it to be
so short, my married life lasted only ten years. And just like it happens
in the wild, suddenly I saw myself alone again, a bear wandering in the
woods until nature called again and it was time to find another companion
for a blessed, ephemeral relief. I didn't get married again after my wife
died. No, it was too much trouble for a person like me to start all over
again and go dancing the mating dance, spreading the beautiful, colorful
feathers like a peacock does for the female, only to have it culminated in
a single, quickly penetration and then leave. Too ephemeral!

It isn't that I was, or am, a bitter person. It's just that sometimes
people complicate what is too simple. What should be only a brief
encounter, one fuck alone, winds up being a battlefield, you having to play
the 'charming prince who came to rescue the beautiful princess'. Why is
that? Because women aren't like men, they don't act like men and they
positively don't think or feel like men. In all the three times I tried to
get together again with a woman I had to act and pretend to be someone I
wasn't. They always wanted me to talk more than I do; they always wanted me
to tell them that I loved them, always wanted a ring on their fingers,
champagne on ice, and they would fuck only after the wedding. It was too
much for me and I simply let it go smoothly until I found myself alone
again in the woods. Only this time I was OK. I felt in peace because I had
found what I was looking for: nothing! You're unhappy only when you are
looking for something that is never there and you have to make sacrifices
and promises to get what you want to then discover that it isn't really
what you expected it to be. But when you decide that you don't need
anything, you stop being a prisoner of the searching.

But life is full of contradictions. At the same time I found out I didn't
need anything I also discovered that no one is an island (cliche). I also
found out that I had my needs and that they had to be fulfilled. I needed
sex! Just like the need of eating, drinking, going to the bathroom and
everything else. Well, actually, I craved sex. I was not the kind of men
who needed to be emotionally involved to make sex. All I needed was to
think about sex and, bingo! - I was ready. It could be a lightly touch of a
woman passing by me; or her sweet perfume in the air; or that side look
that makes you think she's interested in you that triggers your imagination
and when you realize you are sporting a full, aching mast just about to
split your pants open. But that meant that I'd have to be romantic and say
things I didn't really feel only to get myself inside their panties. No
way, too much trouble for me!

It was then that I discovered the solitary pleasure. Not masturbation,
because this is the first thing a boy learns in his life. I'm talking about
solitary pleasure with living creatures, animals to be more precise. I
don't care if you're shocked or disgusted but I bet that this has crossed
your mind more than once. Maybe you have never actually done it, but you
have given it a thought one time or another. And when you are alone in the
middle of nowhere and your cock gets up and begins to beg you to beat it
until it goes to sleep, the only choice you have is to comply. And beat it
you do once, twice, three times until you realize that it is not enough
anymore, that you have used up your quota of imagination and that it too is
not enough to satisfy you any longer. It's then that you begin to look into
other directions; and when you train your eyes to see other aspects of
things, they will most certainly see whatever is out there to be seen. Most
of the times you don't exactly plan it to happen. It simply does! Exactly
the way it happened to me.


Thirteen

I had grown up! That's a statement! I had achieved mental and emotional
proportions way beyond understanding. I was almost fourteen years old but I
felt much more mature in many ways. Oh, how fool we are when we are young!
When we are fourteen we tend to think that we are in the age of the perfect
knowledge; that nobody else knows what we know and therefore we are the
knowledge in person. Only because I had entered another dimension of
knowledge thru the window of sex - and sex with a person of the same gender
- I thought I was 'Lucas, the Great!'

I was in love with Mr. Ferguson. It wasn't just a crush. No! It was a
full-blown affair. He had become my only reason to live. I woke up in the
morning, walked thru the day and went to bed at night with that man in my
head. I longed for him during the long, boring classes; during the endless
days I couldn't see him and also when I fell in bed for one more long night
away from him. I longed for him when I was home and he was at the ranch or
visiting his children. Sometimes I felt feverish for no apparent reason and
my heart would sink when I remembered that I would not see him the next day
or days. There was a void inside my chest (as well as in my ass) that only
his presence, his body could complete. But when we met and he touched me
nothing else mattered. All the past agony was forgotten and I would come to
life like a bud turns into a flower, soft and velvet, sprinkled with
dew. Our time together was particularly special when we stayed four, five
or even seven days away from the other. God, that was hell and it happened
more frequently than I wished. But when we met we tried to compensate
everything. He told me once that I had spoiled him because before he met me
he had accepted the idea of living a sexless life, but that now, the
intensity of our sexual activity had awaken him to a fully active sexual
life and, therefore, he needed relief regularly.

I knew he didn't love me the way I loved him. I knew that for Mr. Ferguson
I was only a kid he liked a lot and enjoyed fucking, but that was all. He
had other things in mind like family, making money, going on with his life
that I only represented a chance of having a little more fun and that's
all. I thought at first (or fantasized) that he really had a crush on me,
that he missed me like I missed him, but I, soon, came to learn that it
wasn't that way. He did miss me when we stayed away too long, but in his
mind he missed 'the ass', the body and not the 'heart', to keep him company
for the rest of his life. I envied his wife because she was the one who was
there when he came home and who went to bed with him, though they didn't
touch each other anymore. But she had his name and she had given him
children.

But when we met after being away for days he usually showed more affection
and would even kiss me when he fucked me (when we made love, I like to
think). He would grab me and involve me in his so strong and hairy arms and
then he would show me how much he missed me by making his body dominate
mine, turning me into a submissive little puppet that did everything he
wanted; he would press his body against mine, his tenting crotch trying to
nest inside my cheeks, urgency revealed in every move he made, as if he
could hardly wait to have his rod busting my ass open. Sometimes he would
kiss the back of my neck with his cock rooted in my ass, making goose bumps
break out all over my body. He'd slowly make his way up to my earlobe to
chew and nibble on it. I remember thinking every time he did that that I
had never felt such pleasure before. He would make little circles all over
my ear with his tongue to then begin to flick it in my ear as well. He
would make me suck his cock, his balls and even his hairy ass (he had grown
used to my exploration of his body and for times he would suggest himself
that I licked his wrinkles. In those times I got so excited, the raunchy
smell of his ass filling my nostrils, that I felt intoxicated and my cock
would throb achingly). He would make me turn around and then he'd eat my
ass and fuck me with his tongue while he opened me with his fingers. It was
so erotic to get prepared slowly, but also longingly, for the
penetration. I always anticipated those moments because it was then that I
could feel all his tenderness and the closest feeling to love he would show
towards me. He knew how to be tender with me and even when he got rough
fucking me, he knew how to do it so that even the discomfort and pain of
his intrusions would make me beg for more, pain disguising itself into
waves of pleasure.

Sometimes he would straddle my chest, leaning forward on one hand and
grasping the shaft of his cock with the other he'd start rubbing his cock
across my chest, working his way higher up. "You have a smooth body Lucas,"
he said once and then made his cock reach my face. He rubbed the swollen
head of his cock across my lips, which I parted and he pushed his cock head
into my mouth. He got about five inches into my mouth and started slowly
fucking it in and out of my mouth. I reached up and wrapped my fingers
around the shaft of his cock and started stroking it as he fucked my
mouth. He held my head firmly and pushed his large, throbbing cock down my
throat and kept fucking my mouth, pushing his cock down my throat and
pressing his hairy balls against my nose on each thrust. It seemed like
forever until finally Mr. Ferguson buried his cock down my throat and held
it there. I felt it bulge each time a load of cum was shot down my
throat. He kept his cock in my mouth while it softened. On other occasions
he'd make me suck him until he felt the jets of cum begin their race
towards the exit to then pluck his cock out of my mouth and cum all over my
face and mouth, roaring like an animal as his spunk would cover my face
abundantly. Many times I had lain there with his cum running down my face
with him towering over me, holding his pulsating and spitting cock as his
body convulsed and jerked, his mouth open, the head tilted upwards, his
eyes closed in the typical posture of a person who is enraptured in
indescribable sensations. For me those moments were magical. In others he
would plough me deeply and relentless with his log until he emptied his
balls into my love tunnel. I could never get enough! I wanted to be filled
by him thru all sides. I wanted him in my mouth, in my ass, in my hands, in
my eyes - I loved when he slapped me in the face with his hard cock while
he kept asking me "Do you like this my little bitch? Do you like my cock
slapping you in the face?" I loved it! And I wanted more. I begged for
more... and he always gave me more! It was then that he presented me with
the chance of meeting another man.


Forty-eight

The last time Lucas came to my house and I fucked him had been four days
earlier, Tuesday, and I knew it would be at least two more days before I
saw him again and I was already full of cum, ready to spit it out. It's
hard to concentrate on something when your mind is somewhere else, and all
I could think of was shoving my cock up some hot hole and move it around
real good until I came. I even thought about jerking off, but that was not
what I wanted. It's funny how things change. Not long ago I would fuck my
hand whenever I felt like and that was fine by me, but now, it wasn't
appealing anymore. What I wanted now was to squeeze hard a pair of cheeks
while I plunged my cock in a tight, cozy hole. Without really knowing what
to do and with a stiff cock I took the car and headed for the ranch where I
was supposed to have taken Lucas but we never got the chance. Every time I
planned to take him there we ended up staying home with me always nailing
him to the bed with my cock. I had grown so used to fucking his tight ass
that I never again wondered if he would be able to take my meat. He was
always tight and we always did it carefully so that he would feel
comfortable, but I reached that stage where you feel comfortable with the
pussy you are fucking and all you want is to get a chance to dig in deep.

Instead of alleviating the furnace in my loins it only grew worse with all
these thoughts. If I was hot when I left home I was a thousand degrees
hotter when I stopped the car in front of the main house where Andre was
already waiting for me. In the end I would have to go to the bathroom and
beat my meat or else I wouldn't be able to get to work without letting
Andre notice that something was bugging me. He had been running my ranch
for more than ten years now and during this time we had grown fond of each
other and he became a kind of friend of the family, a person we trusted and
liked. And he was no fool although I don't think he would make any remark
about it. But now that I think about it, he certainly would know pretty
well the way I felt inside because he didn't have a wife and he surely had
the same needs that I do.

After we finished our ordinary errands around the ranch we went to the main
house again and I got a pack of beers that we drank sitting in the veranda
while we talked about things we should get done before the rainy season and
other small stuff. After a while I made up my mind about asking Andre some
private questions. If it were other times I would never have done it, but
in the present situation I was living, plus the fact that I was now really
curious about how he managed his situation, I turned to him and began
questioning him about his past life, his wife's death, if he had any plans
of getting married again and if he felt lonely. All those questions only to
get where I really wanted, that is, to know what he did to get relieved. We
always felt comfortable with each other and sometimes we looked more like
brothers than boss and employee, our age difference never really being a
problem at all. He answered all my questions without any trace of suspicion
nor feeling embarrassed, confirming what he had told me previously that he
was very well alone and had no intention of making any commitment to anyone
else.

"But, how do you..." I looked the other side and tried to sound casual
enough, not really interested in his private business, "How do you deal
with your... you know... when you feel like..." I couldn't finish the
sentence, but he got my meaning when I made the classic sign with my hand
indicating sex. He chuckled and surprised me by saying out loud what I
couldn't. "You want to know what I do to get my rocks off, to change the
oil, ain't that right?" He was more comfortable with the subject than I was
and I began to regret my foolishness of wanting to mess with other people's
business. "Yeah, that's it, but never mind I was just asking, I'm not
really interested." "Come on boss, although you give the orders around here
and I obey, we are friends and we both know what happens in the life of a
lonely man. Well, for you it is quite different since you've got a wife of
yours, but I have none and I do feel lonely sometimes, if you know what I
mean" and he repeated the same sign I had made. "The same way you have your
needs I have mine and I take care of them when I feel like." It was then
that I decided to open my heart to Andre and so I told him that my wife and
I did not make sex in a long time and how that had affected my life. He
looked surprised, although he didn't say a word about it, but he wanted to
know how I had managed to keep going or "Have you got a fresh, tight pussy
to screw around?" I remained in silence for quite a while, thinking about
my situation, wondering if I should tell him everything. Finally I told him
that I had found a tight hole to fuck my brains out, but that I couldn't
tell him who the person was. I also explained that because I hadn't seen
this person in a week now I was going crazy, walking around the house with
a stiff cock all day long like a teenager after a pair of legs. "That's why
I asked how you handle your situation living far from the city, with nobody
around to give you a hand when you feel like fucking the table only because
it's got legs".

He chuckled and waited a while too and then asked if I really wanna know
what he usually did to smooth things out when they got rough. "Yeah," I
said earnestly. "Do you have somebody? Someone who comes here once in a
while? Who is she?" This time he not only chuckled, but he let out a hearty
laugh, and began to tell me his story.


Thirty-nine

I started off with mares and cows and I thought they were great with their
hot, slippery pussies. But soon I realized that they didn't have the right
tightness I wanted. Even having a well proportionate cock that made the
women squirm when I entered them, I still could not get the right feeling
of muscles squeezing my pole. It was then that I spotted the ewes. They
were exactly what I wanted. The first time I shoved my cock up into an
ewe's pussy I thought I would loose it, so tight and warm it was. After
that I only went to town sporadically. Most of the time I found relief with
my animal pussies. As I said it wasn't something I planned. One day, during
the mounting season, I watched the stallion mounting the mare I kept
restrained for just that purpose and I saw the enormous cock entering the
small pussy to the point that she blew some farts and snorted and nagged a
little, but held her ground and waited patiently for the stallion to finish
filling her pussy up with his semen, his tail flagging up and down, until
he dismounted and I took her back to her stall. For obvious reasons I found
myself with a hard cock, throbbing against my pants and this thought
crossed my mind: "What if I slip my cock up her pussy too?" From that
thought to "Why not?" and "Do it!" was just a matter of seconds. Without
much though I tied her hind legs, placed a bucket with salt in front of
her, put a haystack behind her and climbed it. The mare was meek and I knew
she would not react badly. She was in heat and as soon as my hands touched
the lips of her vagina she lifted her tail and the pink folds of her pussy
opened a little allowing me to see some of the stallion cum dripping
out. Instead of finding it disgusting I felt my cock get hard again. I
simply unzipped my fly, yanked my cock out and placed the red head right at
the entrance. For a fleeting moment I still wondered if I should do it, but
then my cock, which was already touching the mare's pussy talked louder and
I simply thrust and the head slipped in and I shuddered and moaned when it
found its way in the depths of that warm pussy. Holy shit, it was hot and
deliciously viscous. I plunged my cock completely in one single move and
the animal didn't even feel any discomfort. I was so aroused that I came in
less than three minutes. When I pulled my cock out I noticed that my cum
was also oozing out, mixed with the stallion's.

From that day on I knew I had found the best pussies in the world. They
didn't have voices, they didn't complain and they were always there for me
whenever I felt like fucking them. But when I fucked my first ewe I
instantly knew my days with mares and cows were forever gone. The ewes were
much better; they were small and, therefore, easier to fuck. With them I
felt a kind of perversion because I knew that my cock was bigger than what
they were used to take, although I knew that they didn't really hurt. When
I fucked my first ewe, she baaed and tried to get away, but she was tied
and there was no room for her to move. And when I came I thought I would
dissolve myself, so hot it felt inside her pussy.

And now Mr. Ferguson was asking me all these questions and I had no problem
in telling him about what I did. I did not care if he understood it or not,
maybe he would be angry, maybe he'd think it gross, but that was what I did
to relieve myself and since he asked I had no problem in telling him. If I
knew him all right the way I thought I did, he would understand because he
had always been comprehensive and I knew that he would keep it to
himself. After all it wasn't a big deal; it was only a fuck. A lonely man
sharing a little of pleasure with his friends! And I know that a lot of men
do this the world over. When you are horny any hole will do.

When he, visibly embarrassed, asked me how I used to get my rocks off I
made up my mind and told him what I had been doing all these past
years. The look of disbelief spread all over his face. It wasn't a
reproachful look, only disbelievingly. At last he managed to say: "You are
telling me that you screw animals?" I confirmed and told him that they were
better than many pussies I had fucked in my life. I said that I didn't have
to worry about babies and didn't have to talk after I finished. All I had
to do was tuck my cock in my pants again and walk off".

It still seemed hard for him to believe it. "Do you really fuck them? I- I
still can't believe you fuck an animal". He said that trying not to show
any emotion or judgment but I could see that he was curious about it and
that there was something else, something I only understood a little later.


Thirteen

What intrigues me really is how Mr. Ferguson managed to tell Andre about
the two of us. The first time he came to me and said that he would
introduce me to his caretaker and that Andre already knew about what was
going on between us and, worse, had told him that he wanted Andre to join
us, I even questioned him how he had the guts to tell the other man that he
was fucking a young boy, but he simply shrugged and said that everything
was settle already and that I should not worry about it because Andre was a
man he trust and, therefore, there would be no problem for none of us. I
wasn't sure if I wanted another man fucking me because I was satisfied with
Mr. Ferguson, but the idea of tasting another cock other than his also
touched something hidden inside me. And I wondered how this Andre would
look like, his cock, how I would behave when we were all together. For what
I gathered he was a widower and so he would be full of cum and anxious to
fuck my ass and that thought alone was enough to make me agree with the
possibility of meeting him.

I could tell here about the many things that passed thru my head, how
scared and excited I felt at the same time, not really knowing where one
started and the other ended. At thirteen, almost fourteen, it seems your
whole world is changing by the minute and nobody seems or want to
understand the turmoil that goes inside our mind and the consequences it
brings. Many people choose to ventilate their frustration in other things,
like sports, drugs, food and even violence. But I chose sex. Simply and
definitely! When a man took me like he would a woman, his cock invading my
frail body thru my quivering asshole, I was giving way to my frustrations,
my inability to cope with the demands of the rational world around me. Sex
to me was therapy, medicine and my way to sanity. Many people wait for the
new day, the New Year and its possibilities, the new trip abroad or the new
car or clothes. I am always waiting for the next time I will see
Mr. Ferguson again. My time and my days are measured by the time I have to
wait until we are together again. He told me one day after he came in my
mouth that he wanted to buy me a gift and that I should choose something I
wanted, a little gift, something I was thinking about buying, and I told
him that I wanted to have the same Cologne he used. He was puzzled for a
while, I could see by the way he looked at me, so familiar now, and then I
explained that I wanted to be able to smell his scent when we were apart,
when I could not feel his body against mine (just like I did when I took
his underwear from the clothesline and wore it for days). He pulled me
against his body and hugged me tenderly, maybe realizing for the first time
in a more rational way what he represented to me, how he had affected my
life irremediably. Of course there are those who think that English
Lavender is one of those cheap perfume, but to me it meant a world where I
was loved and where I fulfilled the role I was called for. It meant
masculinity, rough, scratchy face, the feeling of body against body. Ah, if
only we could stop the time and make things stay the same forever. If
only...


Thirty-nine

Now it was my turn to not believe what I was hearing. I remained silent
during the whole time Mr. Ferguson took to tell me what he'd been doing
lately with a kid named Lucas, and he didn't take long. It seemed he wanted
to get rid of what was inside his chest in just one breath. Now I
understood why he seemed so surprised but yet not shocked with what I told
him. Now I could interpret it more as relief than as shock. And who was I
to judge him after what I had just told him? And for myself I was feeling
kind of interested in what he was saying. Here was man who was living the
same situation I was in. He had a wife but no sexual fulfillment and had to
find it somewhere else just like I had put an end to my misery by looking
for release among ewes and cows. I was so involved in thoughts that he had
to ask twice before I got his meaning.


Forty-eight

After getting to know Andre's secret life it was easy for me to open my
heart and tell him about Lucas. It wasn't something I really had to tell
him. No. I could go on having my sex life with Lucas forever and never tell
anybody about it. But I was willing to try something new with my boy and
Andre was the right choice. Since Lucas told me that he wondered how it
would feel like having my cock in his ass and mouth at the same I had been
thinking about that and I knew that the only way he could find out was to
have two men fucking him at the same time. Andre was the first and only
person who came to my mind then, but I set that thought aside and didn't
pay much attention to it until now (although I had the impression that it
was always there, swimming under the surface, waiting to be brought up). I
felt it take shape and become something real as I heard Andre saying about
his liking towards ewes and cows! For me it would be one more experience to
share my boy's ass with a man I knew and trust.

Maybe it had been the effect of the three beers I had drank that made me so
talkative, or maybe it had been the turmoil between my legs and the need of
a good fuck who did it, but fact is, without even realizing, I saw myself
telling Andre that I too had a secret life nobody knew about, and
consequently I was able to understand him so well. And besides, Andre had
this special way of his of never emitting an opinion if not asked
for. After I finished my quick story we remained silent and I could see
that he was absorbed in his thoughts. Without thinking twice I fired away
my question: "Now that you told me you don't care much about the hole you
are fucking I was thinking about bringing the boy over to introduce you to
him. Would you like that?" I had to repeat my question after he realized I
had stopped my narrative and was asking him something. "Maybe you'd like a
boy's ass for a change?" "You mean you want to bring the kid here to... for
me to..." It was almost funny. If he had not been shocked when I told him I
was fucking a young boy, now he seemed genuinely shocked that I was
offering him the same opportunity to fuck another human being. It was
almost as if he thought he could not relate to another human being anymore
after having found his livestock. But then a smile began to spread on his
face and I knew he had taken the bait. "You mean you think he will agree to
come here and let me poke him with my big baby? And what about you? You
don't care if I poke him?" "I will come too and we can both fuck him. He'll
love it." Actually I was not so sure about that, but I think I could
convince him quite easily. He got up and went inside and returned with two
more beers and we drank while we still talked about the newfound
subject. At the end we agreed that as soon as I contacted Lucas and I had
convinced him, we'd pay him a visit together.


Thirteen

Looking back it becomes quite clear to me that I had precious moments I
will always remember no matter how long I live. Even if I forget I will
always remember because my memories are not in my mind only, but
irrevocably engraved in my soul and body; in the way I was taken and
possessed and fucked many, many times by my man. Or should I say by my men?
I can picture myself at age 13 running fast in the direction of the bus
stop, knowing that Mr. Ferguson would be there, waiting for me. That day is
so vivid in my mind that sometimes I find it almost unbearable to
remember. It was a hot, humid August morning when I knocked on his door (I
should be taking the bus to school), knowing that now we would really be
going to his ranch. Finally! I was excited, overexcited indeed, because the
great day had arrived and also because Mr. Ferguson was tremendously
attractive that day, almost magnetic. Was it because I was so horny? I felt
the vibration of his energy as he moved about and I could see his hairy
chest through his partially opened shirt.

As he drank his coffee I admired his broad shoulders and the hair
protruding from his open collared shirt. After breakfast he proceeded to
load his truck with things he had bought and I followed him, volunteering
to "help" by holding equipment. He leaned against the side of the garage to
smoke a cigarette and rest from the already unbearable heat of the day that
had only begun. I watched him in openmouthed admiration and adoration. "Do
you like what you see?" I was startled by his question because it implied
he had been observing me too, but I didn't feel uncomfortable because he
knew I adored him, but I could feel my face blushing just the same. "Oh,
yes. I like everything in you!" I replied coyly. "Do you? What do you like
in me?" "I like the hairy chest! Your nipples...your..." I knew that we
were playing a game. He was already aroused and so was I, but we both
wanted it to last longer. After all this time together we didn't simply
want to go inside and fuck because we were aware of what lay ahead of us,
but talking about sex can be sexy too. "Wanna see some more?" he had a
mischievous smile on his face. "Oh, yes! Please!" He unbuttoned his shirt
and pulled the tails out of his pants, revealing his marvelously mature,
hairy chest. I reached out gingerly and rubbed one of his nipples. He
moaned "Go on. Feel it. Feel all you want". I needed no more
encouragement. I reached up and ran my fingers over his furry chest,
something I had done a dozen times but that still had this weakening power
over me. I was thrilled to death. He put his hand on my head and directed
my mouth to suck on one of his tits. I ran my tongue all over his nipples
and even back and forth over his fuzzed armpits. I kissed his stomach and
licked inside his navel. Of course, I had been hard the whole time. I moved
down further and I saw the bulge in his pants. I knew what lurked there and
as I caressed his chest and abdomen with my left hand I delicately brought
my right one to touch what was obviously the outline of the head of his
cock. "You like that kid? I'd show you some more if we weren't supposed to
be going to the ranch by now". "We could do just a little more before we
go," I offered. "It's just that I miss you terribly". I was begging
now. "Do you want to open my belt?" He asked. "Go ahead". I did as he said
and his fly opened up. I was spellbound as it always happened every time I
saw his cock. "You like what you see?" "Oh, yes!" It was difficult for me
to find the words, so I simply took it in my hands and it grew larger. Soon
it was fully hard and his pants had dropped. I ran one hand over his
beautiful cock and balls and used the other to stroke his powerful hairy
legs, stomach and chest. "Oh, God! That feels great Lucas". I loved to hear
him saying those things. I became more and more brave jacking his big dick
with one hand and running my other hand all over his hairy body. I reached
the firm ass and guided my hand to his asshole which I rubbed lightly, not
sure if I should penetrate it. He groaned and I got more and more
excited. I wanted to suck him, but we both knew that if I did we would not
stop until we finished. But the urge was stronger than our will and I saw
myself slowly inching forward until the engorged head was touching my half
parted lips. I squeezed his cock and a large drop of cum appeared thru the
piss slit and I licked it, savoring the delicious taste of man cum. He
moaned again and I reached with both hands and grabbed his asscheeks and
pulled him to me as I opened my mouth and allowed his cock to slip in until
it touched the back of my throat. "Oh, God, Lucas!" He cried out and shoved
it in a little more, making me gag. I dug my fingers deep in his cheeks as
I sucked on him. I let go of his rockhard pole and gave him a lick enough
to make him almost cum. It was one long lick from the bottom of his balls
up to his dick, up the bottom side of it, ending on his piss slit. As I
licked his piss slit I felt more precum sticking to my tongue in a long
strand. It was like nectar! Soon I was deep throating him, my tongue
swirling around the plump, purple head. He let out a long moan and I moaned
too. He knew that if we didn't stop it soon he would erupt like a volcano
in my mouth as I was almost wetting my shorts, and he supposedly didn't
want to cum just yet. I wanted him to flood me with his man milk, but he
was enjoying the teasing, was enjoying to be tormented a little more before
finally achieving a shattering climax. I wanted him to cum right then, but
with a great effort he made me stop sucking him (he was leaning against the
wall, panting, trying to keep his ground) and said, trying to restrain his
beast inside his undies, that we'd better get going if we really wanted to
make it to the ranch.

He was in a state of almost insanity. I could see clearly that all he
wanted was to forget about the ranch and take me by force and rape me right
where we were (although it was frightening, I think I would have loved if
he had done just that). "I am not through yet" I told him. "I know, but
I've got plans for us. Wait until we are in the truck and out of town". He
said and slowly he zipped up, his eyes loosing that foggy, dreaming
quality, and tried to walk normally with a throbbing cock, but it never
went soft during the time we took to finish what we had interrupted and
soon we were heading in his truck to his ranch, his manhood forming a large
bulge in the front of his pants.

As always, comments are appreciated.
Thanks
Tazmania