Sheldon's Nutshuckers and The Fugly Ucker
Copyright © 2012 -- Nicholas Hall
The tinkling, jingling sound of the bell on the entrance to Paul's Pizza Parlor went unnoticed as we sat there discussing our most recent adventure. The "Nutshuckers" had grown in numbers from the original four, Tony Perez, Tyler Wells, Jakeil Davis, and me, Sheldon Miller, to include our best friends Clayton Johnson and Lou Pianetta. There's nothing like a best friend or, in my case, five best friends is there? A best friend is someone you can tell your deepest, darkest secrets and he doesn't give a good rats ass.
The six of us were loyal and quick to defend each other, well maybe not so quick since I wasn't the bravest, clever perhaps, but not brave. Tyler, a Junior and most recently our wheel man, Jakeil, a Sophomore and still our second story man, and Tony, a Freshman like me, our procurement officer, were just the same as me, (well not exactly the same, since Jakeil had a cock to die for and Tony was no slouch in the shlong department either) none of us very big or strong, but man, nobody, but nobody fucked with us! Wait a minute, that doesn't sound quite right, does it? We regularly fucked each other, so perhaps it would be best to say, "no one messed with us" so it doesn't confuse the carnal act with the other. One way or the other, we made it point to correct the aberrant behavior of others when foisted on us or on someone who couldn't very well fight back.
When Lou and Clayton joined our ranks, we gained two really clever and cute guys. Lou, a senior, and Clayton, a freshman, was Lou's lover; Lou became our new wheel man and quiet enforcer and Clay was just Clay, sweet, sensitive, lovable, Clay. Clay was a really bright, fucking cute guy with a nice firm bubble butt that the four of us wanted to plough but knew better than try it without Lou's permission. Would you try to fuck somebody's boyfriend when you knew he threatened to serve a kid his own nuts for lunch in fourth grade? I don't think so. All of us would do anything to protect him since he was younger than all of us, having been advanced a grade because of his brightness and success in school. If anything, Clay was our tutor; there wasn't anything he didn't know if it was written down in a book somewhere.
Our chortling and laughing, as we nibbled on pizza, all snuggled closely together in the restaurant booth, would've been seen as no more than a group of high school friends enjoying an afternoon together by others. Tyler was scheduled to begin his shift in the kitchen at Paul's in a few more minutes, so we were winding down, getting ready to leave so he could go to work. It'd been a fun morning and we were still giggling about it, until Clayton, hearing the restaurant door close, looked up and muttered a cautionary "Oh, oh, guys!"
He slowly slid off of Lou's lap while Lou extricated his hand from the front of Clay's pants where he'd been gently, methodically massaging and fondling his warm, soft balls, and turgid penis. Clay settled himself on the hard wooden seat between his lover and Jakeil, who, under any other circumstances would've felt obliged to resume where Lou left off, but thought better of it.
The rest of us looked in the direction Clay indicated with a sly point of his finger as his hands lay on the table top. Striding purposely toward us was a tall, well-built uniformed officer of the law -- a county sheriff's deputy, the county mounty, you know, the cops! The county sheriff's department was one group not to mess with, tougher than sour owl shit and memories longer than an elephant's dick or, Jakeil's for that matter. Neatly pressed uniform, taut stomach encased in a wide black belt holding a big fucking gun, handcuffs, baton, radio, Taser, cartridge clips, and canned maze, he was tough looking, dark complexioned like Lou but not as dark as Jakeil. There was no way in hell I could've carried all that around my waist; the weight would've pulled my balls closer to my knees than they already are.
Nervous glances passed between us as the deputy strode his way across the room, no doubt in our minds, it was us he wanted and we knew why.
"Who is it?" I whispered out of the corner of my mouth to no one in particular.
"It's my cousin Nico," responded Lou quietly, "let me handle this. The rest of you keep your mouths shut."
Man, he didn't need to tell me twice! In fact, all of our mouths clamped shut tighter than if we just mouthed a load of fresh cum and were ready to swallow.
The cop stopped at our table, smiled, kind of, and greeted us with "Hello, boys."
We muttered an incoherent "hi" in response, all except Lou, who, grinning like a freshly fucked freshman or the one who just deposited the loads of cum in our mouths, grinned and responded cheerily,
"Hi, Cousin; on patrol are you?"
"Doing a little investigating," he replied, hitching up his belt, you know, the one that doesn't hold his pants up, but the other one with all of the heavy shit attached. The only thing I couldn't see attached to the belt was a box of condoms for handing out to high school students caught fucking in the parking lot after the prom. Somehow, I just knew the cops would be carrying them in the future; you know their motto --"To Protect and Serve." Aren't condoms protection? Not to be deterred, he continued, "You boys been here all morning, until now?"
I could see this was going to be more than just a friendly, family chit-chat such as one might have at a Sunday family get-together. A deep sense of foreboding began creeping into our previously happy-go-lucky, celebratory group of Nutshuckers.
Reaching across, in front of Lou, Nico lightly touched Clay's face, asking, "That's a nasty scratch you have on your face Clayton. Where did you get that? Not from Lou, I hope. I didn't think he'd do anything to hurt you."
Clays face blushed. It was common knowledge he and Lou were boyfriends and lovers. In fact, they were just about the only gay couple out in high school because of Lou's tough guy reputation.
Before Clay could answer, Lou responded, "They all were with me this morning at the State Music Contest in Dayton at the high school. Did you know I received a "Starred First" for my piano recital, Nico?"
"Yeah," spouted Clay proudly, "he's so good at everything. After he finished, while waiting at the bulletin board for the scores to be posted, some big guy pushed me and I fell, scratching my face on the way down."
So far, so good; not a real lie being told, not the whole truth, but sort of a truthful fib.
Lou and Clayton picked the four of us at my house early this morning so we could attend Lou's contest performance. There was plenty of room in Lou's four-wheel drive, crew cab pickup truck for all of us. Clay sat next to Lou and Tony held the shot-gun seat, while Tyler, Jakeil, and I occupied the rear seats in the cab. Not more than three miles outside of town, Tyler wiggled his pants and boxers down around his ankles and scooted over in front of Jakeil. Jakeil, eyeing the inviting brown puckered entrance twitching in front of him, quickly pulled his britches off, revealing a very tumescent, good-sized, uncut prick ready for action, not unlike a knight's lance prepared for battle.
Spitting on his hand and applying the moisture to his dick, he reached up and guided Tyler to the correct position. Tyler began sliding himself down that long, thick fuck stick until his ass cheeks were firmly settled on Jakeil's pubic bush. Tyler moaned a sigh of contentment and anticipation. It always amazes me how he's able to gobble that dick up his ass with such ease. Jakeil fucked me more than once since we all became friends and, believe me, he didn't enter me with all that amount of ease. Although, I must admit, once I was stretched properly and he was seated deeply within my bowels, he was an amazing fucker. Tony was not slouch in that department either so he and I teamed up most often with an occasional dalliance with Tyler and Jakeil.
The real lovers were in the front seat, one driving and the other snuggled up against him. Clay was more than just infatuated with Lou; he truly loved him and idolized him. Lou loved him in return, more than life itself, I think. Nothing would harm him as long as Lou was around. On our sleepovers, I watched Lou's gentle, considerate, passionate lovemaking as he brought Clay and himself to fruition more than once each night. I thought Jakeil was the only person who could fuck in his sleep, but put Clay's bare, sweet butt up against Lou's turgid cock and in it would go, beginning a steady, slow rhythm, both sound asleep.
A half-hour later and a series of deep, sexy groans from Jakeil as he pumped his load up Tyler's chute and Tyler's equally ecstatic squeals of delight as I siphoned his gonads empty while he was still impaled, we arrived at Dayton High School and the music contest. Lou and Clay trundled off to the practice rooms while the four of us wandered around the school, checking out the territory and crotches. Ever notice when people are nervous they tend to piss a lot? Every boys restroom we visited had a guy in front of each urinal; each guy fingering his meat, trying to void his bladder. There were large cocks, small cocks, average-sized, uncut, cut, brown, black, white, tan; a better selection than candy at a confectionary store. However tempting it may have been to lick an all-day sucker, we refrained, not wanting to cause any ruckus; you know guys standing in line for a blowjob and getting in fights, that sort of thing.
Instead, we found the performance room where Lou was to compete. Sitting in the back, we were soon joined by Clay, and we waited patiently for Lou's competition to be announced. When the announcer stood, naming Lou Pianetta as the next competitor, the door keepers closed the doors barring anyone else from entering during the performance.
Lou was good, giving his personal signature to the piece he was playing His slim, nibble fingers fairly danced across the keys giving life to the classical composition he'd chosen for this contest. He was capable of making a piano do anything he wanted and he did. When he finished, he knew it was good and so did the rest of us, we just didn't know how good is all.
We waited patiently for the scores to be posted on the contest bulletin board and were elated to see Lou was given a "Starred First," the highest score any contestant could receive. Our trip home was happy, jubilant, and bubbly. About ten miles from town, we stopped at a county park so we could piss. Lou, Jakeil, Tony, and Tyler trotted to the restrooms to do their business while Clay and I acted like dogs and pissed on the nearest tree.
The others didn't return for a few minutes, so after Clay and I shook the dew from our lilies, we sat down on one of the picnic tables to await their return.
"You know what's happening don't you?" I snickered to Clay.
He just looked at me and grinned, that cute, all-over-his-face grin.
"Jakeil wants to fuck Lou and I'll bet he's buried up that sweet ass of Lou's clear to the bush," I continued.
Clay raised his eyebrows at me. "I'll bet not," he mused, "Lou will fuck him first, but Lou wants the three of us to get together. If anyone fucks Lou, other than me, he wants you to do him first."
We both smiled at the prospect. Our reverie was interrupted when a car pulled up alongside Lou's pickup and stopped. Stepping from the car was George Andrews -- you know, the guy with the stinky pinky.
George was still just as obnoxious as ever, still the bully. Evidently once his asshole healed from the inflammation brought on by the really hot chili pepper inserted there in physical education class, he decided he still enjoyed being a nasty bastard, convinced no one would dare face him and do it again, resuming his old ways.
About two weeks ago, Lou and Clay were walking past one of the boys restrooms at school when they overheard shouts of fear and pleading, followed by a loud, threatening voice. Stepping into the restroom, Clay noticed a struggle going on in one of the bathroom stalls and, when pushing the door in just enough to see what was happening, saw George pushing a smaller kid's head into the toilet bowl preparing to give him a swirly.
"Hey, asshole," shouted Clay, "let go of him, you big ape."
George spun around to see who was challenging him and when he did, Clay gave the door a quick kick in, slamming the metal door into George's face, with the nose taking the brunt of the attack, mushing it and causing it to bleed. Of course, George howled and made a lunge for Clay. Just as he grabbed Clay and prepared to poke him in the eye, Lou stepped up and very calmly stated, "Wouldn't do that if I were you; touching my boyfriend is a no, no. Could make you the main dish at a Rocky Mountain Oyster feed, you know."
George let go, muttered an apology, clutched his balls, and vacated the premises.
We weren't happy campers when George pulled up and even less so when he walked up to us and greeted us with "Well, well, what do we have here; Lou Pianetta's little fuck buddy without his protector. I think you need a real dick up your ass for a change."
"Well, it sure as hell isn't you, Peanut Dick," Clay retorted and started to climb down from the table.
George grabbed him, pulled him off of the table, and ordered, "Drop your pants little boy and be prepared to take a load."
Clay, as little as he is, can be pretty feisty sometimes and this was one of those times. "You Fugly Ucker," he snorted, "I wouldn't let you screw me if gold coins popped out of your dick when you came and you had a nine inch rod, which you don't, Shorty."
Now, I've never heard the term, "Fugly Ucker" before, "Ugly Fucker," yes, but not that. Perhaps that's earned Clay a clout on the side of the face, not that George would know the difference, scratching it, bringing some blood, and shout from me.
"Stop you son-of-a-bitch," I yelled and started forward.
George dropped Clay and with a speed I didn't know he possessed, given the obvious slowness of his mental processes, quickly filled his hand with a rather nasty looking, open-bladed, switch-blade knife, capable of making my little rooster into a capon with rapidity. This brought my forward motion to a screeching halt, realizing it wouldn't take much effort for him to carve me up like the Thanksgiving turkey.
"Now," ordered a very angry and horny George, "both of you drop your pants. When I finish with bunny buns, you're next Miller."
I took a deep breath, thinking he was just bluffing, but when the point of his knife edged the zipper of my jeans, I dropped my pants faster than a nymphomaniac in a room full of standing cocks. Clay complied equally as fast, fearing his little nuggets might be George's next target.
"Turn around, both of you, bend over, grab the picnic table, and point those sweet little puckers in my direction." As I started to turn, I saw George's stiff, stubby, fat cock poking out of his fly, twitching and throbbing in anticipation of what George thought was going to be a treat for him and torture for us. I smiled to myself, after all, Jakeil had done me more than once and Lou was more than adequately endowed, so that chubby stubby of George's would be no threat. I also saw, from the corner of my eye, Lou hot-footing it up the path from the restroom with Jakeil, Tyler, and Tony not far behind. Evidently my shouts alerted them to a problem.
George spit on his cock for lube, waddled up to Clay's gorgeous little ass, and just as he prepared to take the plunge and implant himself, a steely, cold voice behind him announced, "That's a no, no Georgie boy," and pressed something up against the back of George's head.
"Now don't make any sudden moves or turn around Georgie or the last thing your eyes will see is the back of your head. Understand?"
Well, of course George didn't dare move his head so he squealed, "O.K." George's pickle petered out, falling limp against his fly, sweat beginning to form on his forehead and upper lip, as he dropped the knife.
Clay and I quickly pulled up our pants and I grabbed the toad sticker.
"Do you know what I have pressing the back of your head, Georgie?" Lou asked patiently, calmly.
"You can call it anything you like, Georgie, but I think I'll just call it a `shotgun.' Ever see what a shotgun can do to someone George? I think not since you generally prefer to bully little guys who you can thump with your fists. I never really found that effective or lasting, preferring something more permanent, something to rid myself of a problem. Understand, Georgie boy?"
Turning to me, he instructed, "Sheldon, take George's handkerchief and blindfold him, please."
I did as I was instructed and while doing so, Lou said to Clay, "Since he wanted to see you with your pants off, let's see him in the same predicament, so Clay, pull down his britches."
Clay giggled, unhitched George's pants and slid them, along with his tighty whiteys, down around his ankles.
Jabbing George in the back of the head with the weapon of choice, Lou ordered George to waddle forward until his crotch touched the picnic table and then turn around.
"I can't see," complained George.
"If you get splinters in your cock, then you'll know you've walked too far," cautioned Lou.
George bumped the picnic table and quickly turned around.
"Sheldon," Lou continued as he pulled a length of string from his pocket, "tie this around the head of George's pecker, tight enough so it won't slip off, but not so tight as to cut off the blood flow, causing it to turn black and fall off. Once that's done, pass the string between George's legs."
As I tied the string, George was sweating bullets, frightened one false move would either bring his brains to the front of his face or too tight a string would cause his pecker-head to fall off. I passed the string between his legs where Lou secured it in a tight grasp as he said, again quietly, almost deathly, "Bend over George and grab your ankles."
With George's ass pointed up in the air, bumping against the picnic table, Lou gave the string a bit of a tug -- yep, tight enough not to slip off, but tight enough to pull his dick back over his balls. "Now, George stand very still, I wouldn't want any sudden movements to cause my trigger finger to slip," and poked the end of the weapon about three inches into George's asshole. I must admit, George took it like a pro, not a whimper, not a cry came out of his mouth.
Lou continued in a matter-of-fact tone, as if instructing someone how to assemble a model airplane, "I've tied the other end of the string to the trigger of my shotgun, George, and used your knife to hold everything in place. If you get a hardon or try to move before someone finds you, well, need I say what would happen? By the way, if you shoot your mouth off about who did this, I'll find you and when you least expect it, during physical education, on the way home from a date, while you think you are safe in your bedroom, lights out, shades pulled, trying to fall asleep, wondering where I am, I'll come to you and exact my revenge."
Lou signaled to us, with a jerk of his head, to head back to his truck where we loaded up and headed home.
But now, pizza and laughs still sticking in our throats, the long arm of the law was in the process of snooping, trying to figure out where we'd been.
"Were you anywhere near Fallen Oaks County Park?" Nico asked Lou.
"Went right by it on the way to Dayton and again on the way home," answered Lou casually. "Is there something in particular gnawing at you Nico or you just trying to pass the time of day and inquire about how the contest went and my driving routes?"
"Well, now that you mention it, Lou, there is. Earlier today, dispatch received a call from a very excited mother, who had taken her children to Fallen Oaks for a picnic lunch, claiming there was a naked man in the park performing unnatural sex acts. Since I was on my way home, I responded, and sure enough, there was a naked man in park. It was young George Andrews, all bent over, backed up to the picnic table, pants and briefs down to his ankles, which, by the way, he had a firm grip on, and blindfolded. When I identified myself and started to remove the blindfold, he screamed, `For God's sake be careful! One wrong move and my brains will decorate the park like the White House Christmas Tree.' Why he would say such a thing is mystifying to me because other than his nudity and position, there was a rather ugly-looking switch-blade knife with a string tied to it and the other end to George's penis, and a wooden broom handle shoved up George's ass."
Thank you for reading "Sheldon's Nutshuckers and the Fugly Ucker." I hope you enjoy following the adventures of Sheldon Miller and friends. If you enjoy my stories and the many others found on this free site, please consider a donation to Nifty. It is your donations which make all of our stories free and available for you to read and enjoy. Thank you.
Other stories of mine can be found at Nifty Prolific Authors or you may browse from the list below:
Nifty- Beginnings - "Table Number Five" -- January 18, 2012
Nifty- Beginnings -"The Carpenter and the Piano Man" -- January 24, 2012
Nifty-Beginnings -- "Gillie" -- January 31, 2012
Nifty-High School - Sheldon's Nutshuckers
"The Stinky Pinky" -- February 14, 2012.
"The Head of Medusa" -- March 8, 2012
"Twachtman's Revenge" -- May 1, 2012
Nifty- Beginnings --"Last House on the Left" -- February 21, 2012
Nifty-College -- "First of May" -- February 29, 2012
Nifty- Beginnings -- "The Heart of a Dancer" -- April 4, 2012
Nifty-Beginnings -- "Parker's Love" -- April 26, 2012
Nifty-High School --"Railroad Bridges" -- May 9, 2012
Nifty-High School -- "Our End is in Sight" -- May 18, 2012
Nifty-Beginnings -- "The Bar-Tender" -- May 29, 2012
The Literary works of Nicholas Hall are protected by the copyright laws of the United States of America and are the property of the author.
Positive comments are welcome and appreciated at: email@example.com