Date: Wed, 26 Dec 2012 00:10:22 -0800 (PST) From: MUSCLEDADDY BEAR Subject: Bad Uncles and Dads Chapter 14: Louisiana Uncle Russ Pt.4 This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental. The sexuality of all characters is entirely a figment of the author's imagination. For those of you that are NOT of legal age, please find other material to read. If you are offended by male/male material, or it is illegal to view such materials in your area, you should be leaving at this time. This story may contain scenes of a graphic nature between father and his sons, or under age boys and adult males, which may not be legal in your area. If you are under 18 or material of this nature is illegal in your present location, please leave now. By continuing to read on, you are confirming that it is legal for you to view the material in this story. In addition, neither you nor any family members are employees of any type of government, law enforcement, or investigative entity. Moreover, you are either not performing any type of research in preparation for any forms of legal action, directly or indirectly, affecting the contents of this site. In addition, you are agreeing that the author, editor, and this site will not be held responsible for any con- sequences of you viewing or downloading the story. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bad Uncles and Dads - Chapter 14 Louisiana Uncle Russ Pt. 4 When I woke the next morning, Uncle Russ was gone and the bed was empty. I quickly looked around the house, but found no sign of him. So, I got in the shower and was just drying off when I looked up to see him striding down the hallway toward me energetically with a mile-wide smile on his bearded face. "Thought I'd let you n' that sweet lil' butt sleep in after last night." He grinned reaching between my legs to slide thick fingers inside the cleft of my ass before moving them forward, over my balls, and then up to encircle my flaccid prick in a quick stroking movement that ended with him drop- ping his hand and giving me a fast kiss on the center of my forehead. He turned and headed back in the direction from which he came, throw- ing the rest of his works back over his shoulder as he walked away. "Glad you're already done with your shower, though, buddy, we gotta get a move on. I picked up crawfish, sausage, n' cheese grits from the best breakfast place in town, but we gotta eat it on the way. Washed your clothes, they're on your bed...gotta get you somethin' else when we replace your jeans so y' don't have t' wear the same thing every day when you're out with me." The last was said hollering jovially from the kitchen. Eager to please and enjoying him being in such a happy mood rather than an uncomfortable and regretful one, I hurried into my clothes and met him in the dining room just as he was getting ready to walk through the door. "Good timin,' sport!" He squeezed my shoulder and then handed me a plastic back with incredible breakfast smells steaming from inside. With a quick hand to my ass, he moved me in front of him and out the door. The food was fantastic...spicy, rich, filling, and delicious. I was fast becoming an addict for Cajun food, and we were finished before we reached the first job site. Uncle Russ looked up at dark clouds rolling ominously in the sky as we got out of his big truck. "Looks like a storm might be rollin' in. The rain las' night may'uh jus' been a lil' preview. Gonna have t' keep an eye on that. We'll have t' shut all the work down if it starts t' pour." Much the same as the day before, Uncle Russ checked on everything and talked with everyone. Today, he was in light grey sweat shorts just like the ones from the day before. Instead of a t-shirt, though, he was in a dark blue tank top whose hem fell only just below his waist because of his tall height. Clearly going commando again, the hem of his shirt seemed to draw even more attention than the one from the day before...seeming to emphasize exactly where his huge cock began and ended rather that shadowing its origin in the way the longer t-shirt had. Watching him set my prick and hormones back into high gear. Today, though, he kept turning his head slightly while talking with someone to toss a quick wink and grin at me which left me feeling as warm and affectionate toward the big man as I was turned on. He was talking to two men at the second job site when his phone rang. The frown on his face as he listened after answering said whatever he was hearing was something that did not make him happy. "Hell. Well, okay. You think yall need hands or muscles more?" There was a pause as the other person answered. "Okay, I'll round up a few of the crew n' head on over." He clicked the phone closed and looked around for a moment before speaking again to the two men he'd been talking with before. "We gotta head over the Barrilleaux house. The damned lumber de- livery dropped four pallets of timbers off the forklift. Didn't jus' make a mess... whole bunch of 'em crashed into the delivery of shrubs n' flowers. We got a lotta clean up t' do. Round everybody up 'cept Hoss, Jim, n' Francisco and we'll head on over." Without waiting for a response, Uncle Russ walked over to me with a concerned look on his handsomely rugged face. "Tommy....hell...." He began, yanking the cap off his forehead and running his fingers through his hair with distraction. "Well, son, would you be okay with stayin' here n' maybe helpin' with puttin' the drip system to- gether? It's not hard work n' I could open up the office for yall t' do it in the air conditionin.' I just...well, I only got room for me n' four others in the truck with the bed full'a stuff n' I don't want you workin' out in the heat. But, I also need the hands t' get this all cleaned up. Would'ja mind too much?" "No, it'd be cool t' learn about drip systems...might come in handy some day." I lied to hide my disappointment and was rewarded with a big quiet smile accompanied by an very appreciative look in my uncle's squinty icy-green eyes. "Thanks, Tommy, I'll make it up to ya." The glint in those eyes and the slight grin on his full lips said he'd do just that. "I'll do m' best t' be back here by lunch time. Francisco!!" I'd seen the big man that got up the day before. Shorter than Uncle Russ by a couple inches, he was much broader through the chest, back, and shoulders. His walk was purposeful, confident, and had the rolling gait of most men with that type of thick bulky upper body. In a sleeveless white t-shirt and cut-off khaki shorts paired with thick boot socks slouched down were his legs were shoved into pale yellow work boots that looked the same size or bigger than Uncle Russ'...the thick mus- cle packing his frame left him looking very much like a big bear on steroids ambling toward us. There was nothing buff or toned about this man, though. He was simply a big mass of thick muscular shoulders, arms, back, and thighs with a rounded stomach that looked as hard as an aged oak barrel. He might have even looked fat if it weren't for the very definite v-shape of his large phy- sique. He was older...around fifty... bald, and had an odd mustache and goatee. The mustache was big, full, and seemed to erupt from his face in dark grey and silver. It hid his lips completely, then swept low and outward across his jaw. His goatee, however, was pure white and hung down about six inches from the man's strong prominent chin. Francisco's voice was deep and sounded as if there was gravel in his throat as he reached us, his words fast and cajun sing-song in their barely decipherable code. "Yawl look like y' got da cabris, boss. What do now?" The look of stress on Uncle Russ' face lessened a bit with a chuckle when he answered. "Francisco, this is my nephew, Tommy." "Hello deh, moochon, where you at?" The bearish man extended a huge rough paw after wiping it on his pants legs. I moved my hand forward to have it swallowed completely in a glove of muscle and thick fingers. "Lemme translate." Uncle Russ began. "First, Francisco said I looked like I had m' drawz stuck up m' ass n' then asked me what I wanted him t' do. T' you, he said...hello, mosquito, how are ya?" "I'm good, n' you?" I responded, not knowing what else to do. "Ah'm good, good. Where from?" He asked, leaning back, puffing out his chest, and looking down his large wide face at me. Uncle Russ answered for me. "Tommy's from Texas." "Ah, no, no no. Texas tawk make no sense. Tawk s' slow...aftuh three words, I go fais do-do!" His laugh was deep, loud, and rumbling. "He's jus' messin' with ya, Tommy. He basically said that he falls as- leep after three words from Texans 'cause we talk s' slow. 'Fais do-do' pretty much means 'make sleep'." Uncle Russ explained with a chuckle. "Francisco, I gotta take some'a the men over t' the Barrilleaux place. We gotta mess t' clean up over there. How 'bout you have Tommy help with getting' that drip line ready t' install while I'm gone? Yall can move into the office so we don' give the boy heat stroke." "Go t' bed, boss!" Francisco's eyes widened in fake shock. "D' office? Peeshank, yaw uncle mus' take a real shawn on you!" "Enough teasin' the boy, I'll unlock the office n' then I gotta get on the road. Tommy, I'll try t' be back by lunch." Uncle Russ clapped a big warm hand on my shoulder as he leaned down toward my ear. "And, 'peeshwank' means 'runt.' But again, Francisco's jus' messin' with ya." Uncle Russ unlocked the trailer house he'd placed on the property to use as an office and turned the window unit air conditioner on before leaving with four workers in his truck. "Come on, beb," Francisco dropped a meaty hand on top of my head and steered me to where he'd been when Uncle Russ called him over. A short time later, we had all Francisco's supplies and tools inside. The air conditioner was taking some time to cool down the humid Louisiana heat, but it was still already noticably cooler than outside. "Dat deh cahbin too small," Francisco pointed a long stocky finger that looked more like sausage at a small door in the corner of the 'office.' "So... Ah gotta go outside n' see a man about a haws..." He chuckled watching my face as I tried to decode what he'd said, then exited the trailer. I watched the man's big bowlingball-looking head pass the windows as he walked around to the back. Not having anything to do yet, I looked out the windows at the other two men working on the property. One was Jim. Twenty-something with fly-away dirty blond hair and a scraggly mustache and goatee that looked like it would never fill out, he was skinny as a toothpick and digging up what looked to be future planting beds. In long baggy shorts, two sizes too large t-shirt, dirty tennis shoes, and an equally dirty trucker cap...he looked like someone you'd see on a cop show getting arrested for driving a riding lawnmower drunk to the corner store for cigarettes. The other was Hoss. Uncle Russ had told me on a previous visit to the job site that Hoss was from Turkey. I'd been surprised because I'd thought he was Spanish-French in background because of his darkly tanned skin and the heavily lidded big eyes set inside his handsome brooding features. His name of Hassam had been shortened to 'Hoss' by the crew as soon as he'd begun working for Uncle Russ. I'd been given a short history of Hassam. He'd been born into a wealthy family in the mega-yacht building industry in Turkey, but had always been interested in tropical plants and landscaping rather than a high paying office job. On a visit to his sister in New Orleans and tired of living in the big city of Istanbul, he'd decided to immigrate here and then moved to Lake Charles where the environment was more natural and rustic. His privileged upbringing showed in his powerhouse body that looked as if it could easily make the front of a bodybuilder magazine if he dieted off the bit of a stomach and softness to the huge muscles that formed his 6'2" physique. I'd noticed him right off for two reasons. One was physical, due to his impressive body and smolderingly handsome face. The other reason was less pleasant as he would turn away with a look of anger mixed with dis- comfort each time he caught me looking in his direction. It was hard not to look, though. Each day I'd seen him, he'd been in draping thin gauze-like pants and a t-shirt with a long-sleeve light cotton shirt over it. The effect wasn't of him covering and being uncomfortable with his body, it was much more like he was simply very modest about it. I was yanked from my examination of the striking man across the grounds from the trailer by the door opening and Francisco stuffing his wide frame through and into the trailer. "Phew! It sho is hot out deh!" He ambled in skinning his sleeveless t- shirt off his barrel-chest as he moved toward the bathroom...or, cahbin, as he'd called it earlier...at the back of the trailer. He opened the door and leaned his body inside as the sound of water running from a faucet began. "Even wit dat air conditionuh, ah still need me a quick cool dahn." He said, the shifting of his arms and body signalled that he was rinsing and wringing out his shirt in the sink. I was surprised by the sight of him bare chested and glad his head was leaned inside the bathroom so I could take it all in without being noticed. Big slabs of muscle hung from his chest, arms, and shoulders with only the slightest bit of sag from the thick, relaxed, comfortable layer of skin covering it all. What took me aback the most, though, was the thick nest of black and silver curly hair covering a good deal of his stocky body. Francisco's legs, forearms, and chest were a forest of silvery white curls swirling damply over his skin. His stomach, though, was coated in that same hair only in pure black while his upper arms, shoulders, and back appeared to be completely smooth. He straightened back up into the room, using the wet t-shirt across his wide upper body, neck, and head. I noticed two things as he leaned back in to rinse and wring out the shirt. First, I saw that he was right in that he could never fit through the door without going in sideways and that he wouldn't really have room to do any- thing if he did make it inside. Second, though, was the big bulge hanging down the left leg of his shorts that I was sure had not been there before both on previous days or earlier that day. "Okay, beb, leh's get to dis." He strode over in a heavy rolling gait I was coming to associate with him alone. He picked up some tools, plugged in something that looked a lot like a really big blow dryer, and then pulled two chairs side-by-side after tossing his wet t-shirt over the back of one. Before he sat down in the chair where his t-shirt was hung, his moving around gave me several glimpses of what appeared to be the waistband of a folded pair of white briefs. Had he slipped them off when he'd gone out- side to take a piss? Was that why there was suddenly a huge floppy bulge where there'd been none before? He told me to bring over a big coil of thick black plastic tubing and then began explaining that he would help me hold the tubing straight while I used the blow dryer looking tool called a 'heat gun' to soften the coil and straighten the tubing out. I was barely able to make out the gist of what he said through the thick cajun accent and local slang. While we sat there straightening out twenty-five feet of black plastic tubing, I found it hard to concentrate with Francisco's hairy calf and thigh brushing and rubbing against my own. The hefty long bulging cock and big balls showing clearly down one leg of his shorts didn't help my focus, either. He was a steady stream of stories and conversation I struggled to un- derstand as we worked. Even with our closeness there was only one scent emanating from his recently wiped down body...crotch...cock and balls. That, combined with his garbled cajun speech and furry leg against mine, left me merely smiling and laughing when he laughed to cover my constant distraction from what he was saying. When we were done, he had me get up to bring a bag of parts, some kind of punching tool, and a measuring tape. I deciphered that he was going to punch holes three feet apart in the tubing and then insert valves into those holes. Later, we would connect thinner tubing that would lead to the spray and sprinkling heads. While I was up, Francisco turned his chair to face mine and spread his thick furry legs wide with his big feet hooked around the back legs of the chair. In that position, both legs of his shorts gaped open loosely and pro- vided a lush view inside. On the right, the dense springy white curls of hair on his thigh went all the way up to the juncture of his legs until I could see nothing more. On the left, however, that swirling mass of white hair tangled into an explosion of inky black bursting forth from two extra large lemon-sized balls laying openly at the edge of Francisco's cut-off shorts. Resting on top of both weighty hair-encrusted male orbs was a fat un- cut cock even thicker than Uncle Russ.' Plump foreskin covered three-quarters of what looked like a humongous cockhead tilted at a fory-five degree angle in a way that left the piss slit angled down toward the inside of the man's thigh rather than straight up and down. All in all, it had the look of a lazy, half awake, fat, fleshy snake eyeing me with casual disinterest. I had the punch tool in one hand at my side while my other hand was on a plastic bag of little valves still sitting on the table. Francisco was turn- ing and eyeing the main tubing. "We gonna follow dis hyah blue line," He looked up, caught my eyes as they jerked up to meet his, and held my gaze for a few starkly silent se- conds before he went on, "t' keep evuh-thang straight t' come up outta da ground, y' see." I just nodded. I felt stupid standing there without moving. But, he had my chair sitting right in front of his with not much room in between it and his plainly displayed fat cock and balls resting heavily just inside the leg of his shorts. "Now, come on, T-Tommy, we don' got all day, now. Hand me dat measure tape n' we get t' wuhk." I grabbed the bag of valves and the measuring tape, and moved over to my chair. I handed him the tape and sat down with my knees inside his. It felt close and intimate...too close and intimate. The room seemed to close in as my stomach knotted up with nervous- ness and tension at being so close to the big, muscular, older, hairy, bare- chested man with his legs splayed widely apart and fat male equipment flop- ped almost out of his shorts. I felt my face, chest, and shoulders go hot and was sure I had to be blushing selfconsciously in front of the big nearly-naked landscape worker. Francisco provided me with charitable relief by showing no signs of noticing my discomfort and simply asking me to open the bag of valves so I could hand them to him one at a time. He set the tape measure on the seat of his chair and put one small valve after another inside his lips until they disappeared behind his big thick dark silver mustache. With the valves lined up across his lips, he mumbled from the corner of his mouth for me to take the tape measure and measure out three feet from each punch as he made it. I reached down gingerly for the tape measure, my hand reaching only a few inches from the fat cock and balls nearly tumbling out of the leg of his loose shorts, and we set into an efficient routine of me measuring and him punching holes and forcing the valves inside. I was impressed and fascinated by watching Francisco's big fat long fingers manipulating the small valves quickly and precisely when I would have expected much more clumsy move- ments from those thick digits. We had about six plugged in rapid succession when Francisco barked, "Aw hell!" He had both hands on the main line with the punch tool in one of them as well. Talking still out of the side of his mouth and running his eyes back and forth across the main line in his hands, "Get dat valve fuh me, peeshwank, it jus' dropped on m' chair." I reacted immediately. "Well, here...lemme just get you another one out of the bag." "No, no, no, T-Tommy, now, boy. We only got jus' the right numbuh t' get dis done. We lose one, we gotta git a whole nutha bag'a fifty. Jus' get me dat one what dropped n' we git back on da road." I looked down as my throat closed up nervously. "I don't see it." "Well, now, it prob'ly roll a little...but, you find it." His voice was dis- tracted as he continued examining the line in his big bear-like hands. I shot my hand out to quickly brush it under those big hairy balls and the legs of his shorts. "Can't find it." I jerked my hand back, the tension in me mounting with knowing already he wasn't going to let this go. "Mehbe duh fall done put some bounce on dat lil' ol' bit." He was still staring back and forth across the line in his hands...the bright gold ring on his wedding ring finger glinted at me in the light as it began to hit me he seemed to be more intent on that plastic line than necessary. "Reach on up in deh n' find dat lil' escapee n' get him back wheh he belong." I began to wonder if he'd dropped a valve at all! Some of my nervousness eased with the possiblity entering my head that this all might be a set up to get me to touch his cock. I reached into the empty leg opening and rummaged around enjoying the coarse curly hair against my hand. "I don't think it bounced in that side..." I mumbled. "Mus' be in duh othuh side, den..." He responded as if paying little at- tention to my predicament. I reached my hand into the other leg and slid it up what turned out to be one hugely thick meaty cock. "Heh heh!!! I got'choo, beb!" He laughed heartily. I looked up to find his face split in a wide entertained smile and eyes dancing with merriment. "Ah make da good joke on you. T-Tommy, you good sport n' don't make no mind'a me pullin' on yawl leg, no?" My hand made a decision of its own and curled around the thick beefy column of flesh underneath it. The big cock fattened and the shaft under its heavy sheath of skin firmed and lengthened inside my appreciative grip. "You like my lil' joke I play?" Francisco's voice got a little quieter as the humor in it disappeared. I just nodded slowly and gently squeezed the fat, meaty, firming shaft in my hand. "Why don' you jus' take dat big ol' son right outta his conn-fines n' git y'self a bettuh look." Francisco's voice dropped even quieter and deeper. I did what he said, pulling his lengthening and swelling cock out from his shorts until the khaki material slid down and bunched up at the base. Francisco's cock was even thicker than Uncle Russ,' a fact that almost seemed impossible given the super thick girth of Uncle Russ' fat meat. Francisco's fat dick was a couple inches shorter than Uncle Russ,' though...somewhere in the area of eight inches of thick adult cock. The small difference in length seemed swallowed by the increase in girth. The big cajun cock seemed to be nearly the same overall size of Uncle Russ,' just in differ- ent proportions. It hardened to carved wood under my hand with thick rippling veins standing out in a twisting network of shiny dark blue and maroon set in the thick fleshy loose skin covering his now rigid length. I began sliding that plump slick skin slowly up and down Francisco's hardened shaft and sat mesmerized by the ridged gristle and knobby veins underneath as well as the downward curve of the bulging column of thick cajun meat. Francisco set the tubing down in his lap at the base of his thick meat and slouched down on the chair as his big hands went lazily behind his head. "Scoot y' chair back some now, n' lean ovuh dat big ol' fat boy fo' a good long look to." I did. When I bent over for a closer look, I found the foreskin sliding partway back and forth over what looked to be a very long and fat cockhead. That wasn't all, though. As I slid that veiny foreskin slid up and down Francisco's bulging head, pearly white fluid pooled and formed a long honey- like drip that stretched down about four inches from the inflated tip. I was already moving my face farther forward when a big paw settled on the back of my neck and guided me even closer. My mouth and lips opened instinctively as the smell of damp sweaty male crotch grew heavier and the cowled, pre-cum drooling fat head hovered now less than two inches away. Reluctance hit and overrode my excited teenage hormones. This man wasn't my Uncle Russ. I didn't know him. He was really a stranger to me for all intents and purposes. I tried to pull back, but was met with an iron strength- ening in the grip at the back of my neck and pulled firmly onto the head of Francisco's fat leaking cock. The taste of him and his slick precum spread through my mouth as a long, drawn out groan rolled out from Francisco's hard-built hairy chest. The thick salty taste confused the thoughts in my mind. No, I didn't want to suck Francisco's thick drooling hard cock. He wasn't Uncle Russ, and it didn't feel the same...special. This...this felt dirty and cheap. The thing was, though, the dirty cheap feeling began turning something on inside me. I pulled the thick loose skin coating Francisco's big veiny cock up the hard fat shaft with my fist curved as far as it could manage around the man's solid girth...about two inches separating my fingers and thumb. More thick salty slickness flowed into my mouth as I began sliding my tongue repeatedly over the fat sloppy head forced inside. The cajun's fat drooling cockhead pulsed against my tongue and more tangy seed flowed out and into my mouth to slide down my throat. "Aww, now, dat's good, now, boy. You take t' dat big ol' dick like a calf to a teat, don'cha. Ah sho' do like seein' my fat grade-A hunnert-percent cajun cock stuffin' up dat handsome young face, boy." "See hyah, now...git on wid it, peeshwank. We don't got all day, now. Somebody come in hyeah n' there be all kind'a teeth gnashin'." Francisco's hand curved into the hair at the back of my neck and shoved me down on his fat leaky cock. When the wide head hit the back of my throat, the big man stood up and shoved it past. "Oh yeah!" He pulled back out at the same time as I grabbed his big hairy thighs before he stuffed it back down my throat. The slight downward curve of that fleshy beast stretched out a quick path down toward my stomach as he thrust long and deep. "Oh yeah, dat's it, now. My wife, old goat, all she say is, no. Make me haf'ta hol' 'er down t' git some. No way she suck m' cock no mo.' Been way long time, tho, since I had me a boy suck dat big ol' cock...n' you do a way bettuh job den mah ol' lady evuh did anyhow! Whooo WHEE!!" He dropped his other big paw on the top of my head and began fucking my face fast and hard. I gasped in air when I could and felt my spit mixed with precum sliding down my chin and neck. It was hot being face-fucked by the big older cajun man with his big fat Louisiana cock sticking lewdly out of the leg of his shorts as it barreled in and out of my throat along with the bruising slams of his big pendulous balls a- gainst my neck. "Oh yeah, boy, hyeah it come. Swallow or drown, beb!" I felt his already fat cock seem t' double in thickness inside my throat as I felt the wide meaty bastard explode and gush a huge eruption of cum into my stomach. It felt like a firehose blasting hot adult sperm into me. As Francisco completed his spewing outstroke from my throat, more thick cajun cum blasted into my mouth. I opened my eyes in surprise as my mouth overloaded on both the huge amount as well as the salty spicy n' thick taste of it. I took in the thick vein- corded cock jutting into my mouth with thick globs and streams of pearly- white cum glistening up the long fat length of him. I felt all that cum gather at my lips and run down my chin and neck when Francisco shoved back down into my throat with yet another long drawn-out blast of cum erupting along that big brutish cock's path down into my stomach. The smell of the big cajun's cum was really getting to me with its heady pungent and overly sweet scent as much as the salty taste and the feel of the fat erupting vein-corrogated cock plunging in and out of my throat. I was hunching my hips madly in my chair to grind my own prick into the denim of my shorts in a needy effort to bring myself off. I was going crazy with a need to cum that'd been torturing me since Francisco had first shoved that big fat cock down my throat. When he'd begun spewing his huge load into my mouth, throat, and stomach...coating the lower half of my face and neck with it...it'd pushed me to teetering right on the edge of blasting my own load into my shorts. Three, four, five, six, seven more times, Francisco shoved that overly- wide eight-inch cock into my mouth, throat, and stomach like nothing mattered but draining his heavy balls with their thick huge load into my smaller body. "Dat's it, oh yeah! Yeah, boy, eat dat cum...eat it all! Ah fill you up, pee- shwank! Yo' whole belly be full'a Francisco's cajun cum, huh, now boy! My cock feed you real nice, feed you real good! Eat dat cum! Eat dat cum!" Four more times Francisco drove his huge spewing veiny cajun sau sage in and out of my throat blasting cum into my like there was no end to the thick salty cock juice. It finally began to feel as if the power in his deep plunging strokes into my throat, the slam of those big hairy balls into my neck, and the tremendous amounts of cum being poured into me were beginning to lessen. My whole body was nearly shaking with need for release, yet I knew the big older man didn't give a shit about anything but getting his own cock off. I was dying for him to keep fucking my face while I ground my prick inside my shorts until I came as well. Instead, Francisco hauled his fat, vein-networked, cum-sloppy cock out of my equally messy mouth and slapped me back and forth across the face with the big glistening slab of cum-drenched meat. "Phew! Dat was real nice...real damn nice, boy! Hyeah, lez git'choo a lil' mo' presentable." He reached behind him, grabbed his damp t-shirt, and then rubbed it quickly and carelessly over my face for about a second and a half without paying any attention to the mess of cum and spit coating my neck. "Not too cleaned up, doh...ah may wanna take that cute lil' caboose down duh track once I done had a lil' rest-up." Francisco added, leaning back on his heels and looking me up and down as if considering doing it right then and there. A loud knock at the door turned us both in that direction at the same time. "Now, who could dat be?" Francisco mused as he pulled the leg of his shorts down in an ineffective attempt to cover his only slightly flagging fat swol- len cock, "COME ON IN!" With the sunlight behind him as the door opened, only the wide physique and striking height of the man known as 'Hoss' were visible in silhoutte. Hoss' european features were shadowed as a quiet, deep, bass voice filled the trailer office. "Tom, Uncle has called and you are to go with me to lunch. He has much to do." "Now, hol' on, Hoss. The boy can jus' go down fuh lunch when I go." Francisco interjected. I saw Hoss' eyes cut quickly to Francisco and realized it was the first time he'd looked in the older cajun's direction. His eyes came right back to me. "Uncle says he is to go with me." "Well, it ain't even noon yet, but go on ahead. I'll git Jim n' we'll git evuh- thang put away before we leave in case dis ol' weather decides t' break." Fran- cisco tossed his damp, cum-laced t-shirt over his shoulder and moved out the door past Hoss. Hoss' gaze stayed on me, intense and disapproving in a way. "We are leaving. Lock this door." He turned abruptly, went down the three steps to the ground, and strode away as I hurried to lock the door and catch up with him. (To be continued.) Other stories: Discovering Uncle Tip http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/discovering-uncle-tip/ Teddy's Discovery http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/teddys-discovery/ Hay Baling and Uncle Buck http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/hay-bailing-and-uncle-buck/ Bad Uncles and Dads http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/bad-uncles-and-dads/