Date: Wed, 26 Aug 2020 20:40:19 -0400
From: Simon Galen <mclrebel@gmail.com>
Subject: Rural Adventures -- The Camp

Rural Adventures -- The Camp


by Simon Galen

I.

By the time I'd gotten halfway down the Pelletier's driveway, the sky had
grown dark. My dick had stiffened again and strained against my jeans as I
pedaled away. I couldn't believe what had happened. I kept one hand on the
handlebars and with the other, I rubbed my cock through the denim. I could
still taste Danny's cum when I licked my lips and smell the medicinal balm
he had used. A dark spot appeared on my jeans and my legs grew wobbly as
precum started dripping from my cock. My breath grew ragged as I continued
to jerk off while trying to bike, and I began to lose my balance.

There was a small bridge about a half-mile ahead. It wouldn't have been the
first time I hid my bike off the edge of the road and stood in the cool,
shadowy water and leaned against the concrete wall with my fly undone and
my cock out. I had found the spot on a hot July day last year. In the late
summer silence, I heard the deer flies drone, an occasional vehicle rumble
overhead, and the echo of my gasp as I blasted my load.

But that was last year. Last year, I jerked off because the feel of my own
hand felt like electricity. It was the only thing that relieved the
pressure building in my pants every twenty minutes or so. Today was
different. I had just discovered my boyhood hero stroking his meat in the
barn. He had been standing in the stall, covered in dust and dappled
light. When he came, he shot his load into my mouth and covered my face.

I came to a complete stop and breathed hard. The wet spot on my jeans had
grown to an obvious size. My cock ached in my pants, and I fought every
urge to pull it out right there. I wanted to go back, to learn more, but
then my dad had shown up. A cool breeze tousled my hair and the first fat
drops of cold rain exploded in the dust as I continued down the dirt
road. What had been a fast, beautiful ride to the dairy farm was turning
into a cold, wet slog back home. But the rain quickly soaked my t-shirt,
and I shivered and swore. I needed to get home.

An old tan pickup truck rattled by, pulled a uey, and stopped beside
me. The driver leaned over to roll down the passenger window. "Hey there
guy," he yelled out over the engine. "Hop on in. I'll throw your bike in
the back and take you home." The driver side door swung open, and Big Dave
Lavoie stepped out and grabbed the bike's topbar as I hopped off. As if it
weighed nothing at all, he swung it up with one hand and laid the bike on
its side in the back of the pickup.

I got in the passenger side of the cab and buckled up as Big Dave jumped
in, grabbed the beer can off the dashboard and stuck it between his
thighs. He gave me a hard stare, waiting to see if I'd say anything. When I
didn't say anything he grunted, turned the key, put the truck in gear, and
started up the road.

II.

Big Dave was a big man, easily twice my size. My whole life, I'd heard him
referred to as Big Dave or beer can, not because there was any other Dave
that he may have been confused with. And he was built like a beer can:
stout, solid. Everything about him gave the impression of being oversized
and powerful from his barrel chest to his hands that dwarfed the can each
time he took a swig. He never looked fat, just solid. Some folks in town
had made the mistake of thinking he was slow as well as big and to be fair,
he didn't give the impression of being quick in any way. But I'd never seen
him lose a game of cribbage no matter how many beers he had in them, and if
there was ever a guy who could figure out what made a small engine tick, it
was Big Dave.

He and my dad had been friends a long time, but they didn't seem to hang
out much lately. His son Derek and I had been good friends at one time too.

"Ain't seen you around much, Joey," said Big Dave as if reading my
thoughts. "Thought it strange seems how inseparable you and Derek were."

It was true. For a while there, if Derek wasn't at my place, then I was at
his, or we were out camping. And even though he and my dad were friends,
and I was hanging out with his son, I was a bit in awe, intimidated even,
around him. During all those years, I had never said much to Big Dave
beyond "Yes, Sir" and "No, Sir."

Year-round, Big Dave wore grease-stained, brown canvas overalls that were
always tight around the thighs. In the winter, he'd wear thermal underwear
under them, in the summer nothing, and a t-shirt on spring days like
today. No matter how clean his hands were, his fingers were always stained
black, and he always smelled of his small engine repair shop: lawnmower
exhaust, two-stroke engine oil, and sawdust.

During one sleepover a couple years ago when I was 16, I'd gotten up to
take a piss. I didn't want to wake up Derek, so I felt my way down the hall
of the trailer. In the dark, I didn't see Big Dave, until I had walked
right into him, burying my face in his dense, black, chest hair and my hand
landing right on his cock.

"Whoa there, boy" was all he said as I pushed past him, mortified.I don't
know if it was the jump of his cock when my hand hit it, or the way his
smell filled my head, but I boned up as soon as we connected. For weeks
after that day, I turned red every time I saw Big Dave, waiting for him to
laugh or call me out for the hardon he must have felt brushing against his
leg as I darted for the sanctuary of the bathroom. I was relieved that he
never did. Relieved and a little disappointed too.

That hadn't been why Derek and I had stopped hanging out though. That
happened last summer when Derek had turned 18 nearly a full year ahead of
me. He got a job at my dad's garage. It was just a part time thing, but it
seemed like he and my dad were there all the time. It was maybe last August
when I stopped by the garage one night. Some old beater was in the
garage. My dad was standing back to me, quietly telling Derek what a damn
good job he was doing. Under the car, I could see Derek's knees, but not
Derek himself.

I cleared my throat and there was a sudden shuffle as Derek went to stand
up and my dad's arm shot out. His relaxed growl grew stern as he said to
Derek, "You stay down there until you finish your job, boy." Then, looking
over his shoulder at me, he said evenly "Hey Joey. What are you doing down
here? Dinner ready?"

"Dinner's been ready," I said, staring at my Dad's forearm as he held an
out of sight Derek to his task.  Under the fluorescent shop lights, the
coarse dark hair that furred his arms and a streak of engine grease
highlighted the grooves of the flexed muscles.

"Joey," Dad said sharply, and my eyes darted back to meet his stare. Dad
gave me a lean smile. "A job came up that Derek's got to finish. Go back to
the house and crack me a beer. I'll be in before it gets warm, if he does
the job like he's supposed to. Right Derek?"

There was a grunt of agreement from the behind the car door.

I backed out of the garage and ran up the driveway panting. There was
something in my dad's smile I hadn't seen before, something wolfish and
hungry. I realized I wasn't shaking because I was scared of that look, but
I was jealous it was reserved for Derek.

By the time dad came home, his beer was warm and that feral look had left
his face. "Sorry sport," he said, walking in and tousling my hair like I
was still a kid. "Derek did a sloppy job the first time, so he insisted on
doing it again." Dad grabbed his beer and went to take a shower, whistling
to himself the whole time.

After that night, Derek avoided me. For the rest of the summer and
throughout our senior year, he'd go the other way if he saw me coming. But
his truck was at dad's garage more often than not, regardless of what hour
the job came up.

III.

Big Dave tapped the truck's brakes, jerking me out of my thoughts. I
realized that while I'd been thinking about the garage with a growing
erection as I realized what those jobs his son was doing with my dad were,
he'd been waiting for an answer. I felt his eyes on me, and I shifted in my
seat, trying to hide the obvious lump in my jeans, but my t-shirt wasn't
long enough to help.

"You mind if I stop at the camp before I bring you home?" Big Dave asked as
he turned away from the road toward where I lived and up White Mountain
Road.

"No, Sir., I managed to croak.

As Big Dave drove, a thoughtful expression crossed his face. "You're
what--a year and a half or so younger than Derek? So that would make you 18
in a week or two?" He kept one eye on me and one eye on the road as he
slowly drove up the rutted road to camp.

"Today, Sir," I said.

He asked if my dad had made any plans with me. I told him no, that he was
in the garage working on something that had come up.

"Probably with Derek," said Big Dave. "Your dad's been riding my boy pretty
hard these days." There was a lurch as the truck tire hit a rock as Big
Dave pulled in front of the a-frame camp. His massive hand landed on my
thigh, just an inch south of where my cock was trying to bust through my
jeans. "Seems only right I should get a turn with you."

I nodded, too excited to use my words.

"Yeah, I thought you'd be down for it," said Big Dave, but he wasn't
watching me nod. He was watching the growing dark spot of denim as my cock
began to drool precum. He put the truck in park, turned it off, and chugged
the rest of his beer. He dropped the can out the open window.

I sat frozen. This was what I wanted even if I didn't know what was coming
or what to do.

Big Dave released my seatbelt with one hand and put his other hand behind
my neck and pulled us together. He moved his mouth over mine, and over my
chin and neck, like he had waited so long that he was going to taste every
part of me first. The sheer bulk of his muscular body drove me back into
the seat as his stubble burned hot red lines every place he tasted. As I
bucked in electric excitement, his free hand got a firm grip on my crotch
and held me in place. I shuddered as my balls began to tighten.

Big Dave let up just enough to let me catch my breath and then moved his
mouth back to mine forcing his tongue in. I tasted his beer, my
sweat. Sensing that I had come back from the edge, he began rubbing my cock
through my jeans. It was the first man's hand there, and he moved his hand
over me like he was sizing me up.

I calmed down and began moving with him. When he reached down toward my
balls and I lifted my off the seat as much as I could to give him access, I
heard Big Dave chuckle. "Last chance to say no," he said. "I want to hear
you tell me you want this."

"Yes!" I said, my voice cracking with excitement.

Big Dave pulled away from me. Keeping one hand on the back of my neck, he
began undoing the zipper of his canvas overalls with the other. His thick,
round cock with a dark red head jutted up through the open fly. "Now you
can see why your daddy always called me beer can," he said as he pulled my
head down against his chest and belly, careful to avoid the steering
wheel. "Come on and have a taste."

The head pressed against my nose. Cutting through the smell of exhaust,
oil, and sawdust, a ceder-like smell that was just Big Dave cut through. A
salty sweet pitch stickied my lips. Big Dave flexed his hips making his
dick jump and leave a trail across my face. He pulled back, and it returned
to my lips. I opened, slightly, to taste the tip. At that moment, Big Dave
saw his opportunity and pushed my head down and his hips up. The head
forced its way into my mouth, and Big Dave didn't ease up until it was
knocking against my throat and my nose pressed against the zipper of his
fly.

He waited a few minutes to see how I'd react to having his cock in my
mouth. I had never been so hard or turned on in my life as this huge guy
began guiding my head up and down on his beer can cock. At that moment, it
didn't matter that we were still in his truck on the side of the road--my
whole world had become his cock pushing further into my mouth, the smell of
Big Dave and the rough rub of my jeans as my own dick ground into the
seat. I could Big Dave softly growl with pleasure and feel the tension as
he kept me sucking at a steady rhythm.

He eventually pulled me off saying, "come on, let's get some more room." He
opened the pickup's driver side door and dragged me out after him. Never
letting go of me with that one hand behind my neck, he reached down with
the other and pulled his balls out of the fly of his overalls. He pushed
down on my shoulder until I dropped to my knees.

With the truck shielding us from the rural road, he pressed my face into
his sack. "Lick them," he said. His balls were like him--heavy and sweaty,
but with that overwhelming cedar musk. I ran my tongue all around one and
then the other, losing myself in the experience until I heard the sound of
a familiar truck coming down the road.

I started to get up, but Big Dave pressed down keeping me on my knees. "You
just stay there and focus on what you're doing." he said, shoving his cock
back into my mouth as I opened it to protest. "I'll handle this. You just
breathe through your nose." He leaned forward, pinning me against the truck
with his cock lodged deeper in my throat as the other truck pulled up,
idling beside us.

"Hey there, Beer Can." A familiar voice said. It was my dad. I started to
panic, but Big Dave just slid more of his cock into my throat, keeping me
in place. "Derek around?"

"Thought he was with you," said Big Dave. `Seems like he's always at your
shop."

"He was supposed to be this morning, but I haven't seen him." There was a
pause, and my dad asked, "Opening up the camp early this year. Need a
hand?"

"That's alright," said Big Dave. He pushed forward a little more, his cock
now into my throat as far as it could go. "I'm just here to unload a couple
things." As he and my dad spoke, his cock throbbed and got thicker in my
throat. I grabbed his leg to keep my balance, and Big Dave used the
opportunity to shove in a little further.  "Well alright then," I heard my
dad. I heard the truck pull forward, stop, and then back up. "Hey Beer Can,
how about we send the boys camping next week? Get together like old times?"

Saying "Yeah Jack, sounds like a plan," and leaning forward like he was
interested, Big Dave shoved further in. My nose was pressed full into the
canvas overalls, and his balls rested on my chin. My dad could have asked
him anything at that moment, and Big Dave would've practically screamed
yes.

The gravel crunched under the wheels of my dad's pickup as he drove
off. Big Dave, keeping me as far down on his cock as possible and pulling
me with him, took a half-step back from his own truck. "Fuck," he growled,
and then he pulled back and then thrust all the way in again. And
again. Whatever the "old times" with my dad were, they released something
savage in Big Dave, His arms wrapped around me like cables and held me in
place as he began to furiously fuck my face, growling the whole time.

Each time he pulled back, the taste of his precum filled my mouth. It kept
his cock slicked up as he drove it back down my throat. I reached out with
one hand and grabbed the back of his legs to keep from falling. With the
other, I cupped his balls, feeling as they began to tighten and pull up. I
could feel my own cock pressing against my leg, begging for release.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." It began as a soft whisper as Big Dave continued
fucking my face. It grew louder into a grunt. His balls completely
tightened in my hand, and then he pulled my head in close. His cock swelled
to the point that I thought he'd get stuck. I could feel it pulsing as the
first blast of cum splattered against my tonsils. He pulled back, still
keeping my head in place and his cock securely past my lips. The next
volley of shots filled my mouth. His cum was bitter--it was the
distillation of the cedar and musk I'd smelled earlier. Instinctively I
swallowed and ran my tongue around the head of his shaft looking for
more. I licked up the last drop as he pulled out of my mouth.

Breathing hard, he looked down at me--a feral light leaving his eyes--and
smiled. He swiveled his hips, and his dickhead traced out a glistening
trail of cum and saliva where brushed my face.

Without putting his cock away, he turned around and started walking up to
the camp door. "Well come on," he said. "I'd fuck you against the truck
right now, and believe me I will before we leave here. But I think your
first time should be in a bed." He opened the camp. "So why don't you get
your ass over here, and I'll fuck you in Derek's bed. Call it a birthday
present"

I got up so damn fast, I nearly tripped over my feet. I was so horny that
Big Dave could have taken me anywhere, but doing it in his son's bed!
Turning eighteen was starting to look up.

--


About the Author: Simon Galen is a struggling writer/bartender living off
tips and trying to put an English degree to bad use through erotic
fiction. He's thankful for any comments from readers and tries to answer
all emails he receives (it may take a week or so). He can be emailed at
mclrebel@gmail.com.

And thank you for supporting the Nifty Archives. Without them, our socks
may stay cleaner longer but it wouldn't be as fun. http://donate.nifty.org/