Date: Sun, 14 Jan 2024 16:05:13 -0500
From: The Beaster <lovebigburlybears@gmail.com>
Subject: Big Lou

Big Lou

Author's Note: this story and its copyright is solely the property of the
author. Please do not share without permission. If reading stories like
this is illegal where you live, don't do it. All references to "boy" and
"son" refer to legal, consenting adults engaging in role-play or
fantasy. 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 consequences of you viewing or downloading the story.

Comments are welcome, as I love hearing from readers, especially those that
like dad/son, granddad/grandson role play etc. Where are the pervy
daddies?!

I can be reached at lovebigburlybears@gmail.com. A shout-out to Muscle
Daddy Bear, because without him I never would have started writing. If you
haven't read his stuff, you're missing out. And a special thank-you to the
reader who prompted me to write this particular story after a long dry
spell. You know who you are.

PLEASE CONTRIBUTE TO NIFTY

Fuck, I had to pee so bad! It was a late March afternoon and the only place
to go was the school gym next to the football field. I knew it would be
empty since practice was over for the day. Students weren't supposed to be
in the gym without supervision but I was going to piss my pants if I didn't
find a bathroom soon! Ugh!

I was going to have to go in the gym. What the hell, I said to myself. It
was an emergency! I looked around to make sure there were no teachers or
staff watching then slipped through the heavy gym doors, hurrying
downstairs to the boys locker room. Anticipating the relief of pissing
seemed to make me have to go more. I pinched the head of my teenage dick
through my shorts in an effort to physically cut off the flow. Spurred on
by the fear of pissing myself, I took the steps down to the gym level three
at a time. Fifty feet seconds away from locker room I broke out into a
sprint. For one awful second it seemed like it was lock, but the handle was
just stuck. I barely made it to the urinal.

It wasn't until halfway through my piss that I realized that I wasn't
alone. I could hear the sound of a shower in the group showers block around
the corner from the bathroom. I finished up and peeked my head around the
corner. From behind, I saw a short, stocky male frame, wide and stout. He
was lifting his head up and faced into the spray, rinsing white suds from
his balding head. Every inch of the back side of his body was covered in
brown hair. The sudsy water coursed down his shoulders, his back, and
coated the round ass cheeks. The white of the suds against the contrasting
hair of his ass made my pulse pick up. Just then, the man in the shower
turned and my stomach lurched when I recognized the mustached face. It was
Big Lou.

-

Big Lou was the head of the grounds at my school, a private school for
grades six through twelve. He had been there longer than anyone remembered,
twenty years at least. Lou Spagnelli was his full name. Big Lou didn't say
much to us students other than giving gruff commands when we had to do work
punishments, like help out with trash pickup around the school or rake the
leaves. "Over here, kid" he'd order, pointing to a stray candy wrapper we'd
missed. While he worked, he'd have this expression on his face, a kind of
barely disguised annoyance. Looking back, it's probably because us children
were making his job more difficult by "helping". The other students made
fun of him behind his back, calling him racist Italian names, or saying he
was just a stupid blue collar lug. I never did. He was stern, sure, but he
was fair and never yelled at us, which is more than you could say about
most of the teachers.

I didn't know that much else about him. I knew he drove to work in a beat
up Dodge Ram that had super loud exhaust pipe. You could always tell when
he was coming or going from the noise of that thing. He was originally from
Sicily where he had been a farmer. He was married with four or five
kids. Lately, the gossip around the school was that Big Lou was getting a
divorce. His wife had thrown him out and he was staying at the school in
one of the offices in the gym.

From the first time I saw Big Lou on campus, I found myself going out of my
way to be near him. I'd volunteer for stuff at every opportunity. Since I
had started school, I had worked for him four or five times, but always
with other kids around. During the whole school year I had never spoken to
him one-on-one. I bet he didn't even know my name.

That spring, long before I saw him showering, he was working on planting
some maple saplings between the gym and the music building where I
practiced piano. The ground floor room I was in had a big picture window
that looked out onto the area where he was working, only ten or fifteen
feet away. I watched him while pretending to practice my minor key
scales. I loved the way he would push the shovel deep into the earth and
haul the loads of soil over to the dirt pile next to it. The corded muscles
of his back rippled under a sweat-soaked T-shirt.

One warm March afternoon, I got up the courage to speak to him alone. He
was covering up the newly planted trees with mulch, dressed in overalls
that displayed a prominent lump in his crotch area, like he was shoplifting
a roll of toiler paper. He had a few weeks worth of salt-and-pepper stubble
coming in, and his ever-present mustache was as thick as a scrubbing
brush. I imagined how strong and manly he must have looked working a farm
in Italy.

I walked by him and I made some stupid joke about "working hard or hardly
working". I immediately felt dumb. Big Lou playfully looked around like he
couldn't tell where the voice was coming from. He made an exaggerated
expression of surprise when his eyes landed on me. His dark green eyes gave
me a sick feeling in my stomach, like I was standing on the edge of a tall
building. He put both hands on the handle of the shovel stuck in the ground
and nodded.

"Now what would you kids know about work?," he said slowly. His short
crewcut was going grey at the sides, I noticed. His balding head was tanned
from days in the sun. But somehow it made him look more manly.

I reddened at his comment. He wasn't wrong. This school was for wealthy
kids, although I had been admitted to the school on financial aid. My
family had no money. Everyone else wore labels like Polo and L.L. Bean, but
the clothes I brought with me for the semester of boarding school were all
from the local goodwill.

"You're right," I said, pushing my lower lip out and trying to sound like
an adult, like I was one of the guys. "These spoiled brats are about as
useful as" - I reached for an expression -- "as...uh...tits on a
bull". Tits on a bull, I thought? What the fuck was that, something my
great-uncle used to say? I was in over my head, and thought I had better
get out of there before I started making a bigger fool of myself than I
already had.

Big Lou burst out laughing, a deep rumbling that I could practically feel
in my chest. It reminded me of when an 18-wheeler drives by and you hear
the heavy load rumbling on the street. His belly jiggled inside the
coveralls. His laugh accentuated the deep scar that bisected his left
eyebrow, which I hadn't seen before. He must have seen me staring. "Oh
this?" he asked. "Got the wrong end of a wine bottle in a fight when I was
a kid in Sicily" . He touched the scar with a hairy finger that looked as
thick as a roll of quarters. I stammered out something about it looking
fine. I felt my teenage dick rising in my pants. I had to get out of there
before Big Lou noticed. I mumbled something about homework and put my
headphones back on and hurried off. When I looked back, Big Lou gave me a
half-salute.

-

For the next few weeks, my teenage hormones seem to be on overdrive. It's
almost like Big Lou woke up something dormant inside me. I had a series of
bizarre, feverish dreams where Big Lou was my father. He and I were at an
amusement park and he is twirling me around and laughing and holding me to
his chest, a big thick carpet of fur. My face is in his chest hair, and
this brick wall of a man takes my chin and lifts it, my face to his as he
brings a that fat hairy finger to my mouth. He works it between my lips and
slips it inside, up to the knuckle probing. I taste the working man's digit
and I'm running my tongue over the thick calloused pad and then I actually
start sucking his finger like a baby bottle and he slides another hairy
finger into my mouth and tells me his milk is coming soon and asks me if I
want it and then he is on top of me and his mouth is on top of mine, his
mustache against my thirteen-year old lips as the warm, wet muscle of
tongue searches for mine, filling my mouth with his taste and I cry out and
I am awake my sheets are sticky and wet.

-

"Didn't know I had an audience!" Big Lou said as he stepped out of the gym
shower. I got a glimpse of a carpet of hair on his chest and something
hanging between his legs, but he grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped
it around himself.

"Sorry, Mr. Spaginelli. I really had to pee."

Big Lou grunted as if he'd heard that one before. He walked over the bench
where he left his clothes and started toweling off, with his back to me. He
propped one foot up on the bench to dry his legs and for the first time in
my life I saw a man's asscrack, or rather the outside of it. Because in the
place where the furry mounds of his cheeks met, he had a dark line of curly
hair that completely hid any sign of the crack itself. Between his legs, I
could see the bottom of his balls sack swinging while he dried himself. He
pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants and a blue and orange Miami Dolphins
t-shirt.

He turned and noticed I was still there. "You know you kids aren't supposed
to be down here after school," he said, running his fingers through his
mustache to get the last of the water out of it. I nodded quickly, and
apologized, telling him again that it was an emergency.

"An emergency," he said. He was facing me now. He sat down on a bench to
put on his workbooks. When he brought his left knee up to pull the sock on
his foot, it made a obscene bulge in the sweatpants. Two kiwi-sized lumps
jutted from his crotch and in front of them, that a monstrous-looking tube
pressed against the fabric. Even though I could see the outline of a head
ridge, the end didn't seem to have a pronounced mushroom head. The shape
gradually thinned at the tip. I had heard about uncircumcised men but had
never seen one. Was Big Lou uncut?

"Okay, well if that happens again, I tell you what, champ." he said. He
finished lacing up his tan workbooks and he me looked up and down before
continuing. "I'm staying here for a spell while I work out some things with
Mrs. Spagnelli. If it happens again, just knock on my door and you can use
my bathroom. No sense in you getting in trouble."

"Thank you, Mr. Spagnelli!" I blurted.

He held up a hand as if he was hurt. "Please, kid. Everyone calls me Big
Lou. Come on, I'll show you where it is."

He adjusted his crotch and then made a motion for me to follow him. We went
through the back entrance of the locker room, to a hall where the faculty
apartments was. One of the doors was ajar and I could hear the television
on inside. It sounded like someone was moaning. When he pushed open he
door, what was playing on the TV made my eyes widen.

It was a grainy video, shot with one of those 80's camcorders. The color
was all washed out. Five or six men, all in their fifties or sixties, stood
around a woman who was laying on her back. She was covered in streaks of
white liquid and was jerking two of the guys. The others were jerking their
own uncircumcised penises, several of them at least two inches thick and
eight inches long. Whoever was filming had the camera got right up close to
them and I could see they were wet and shiny.

"Oh shit!" Lou exclaimed when he realized that he had left a porn
playing. "You're not supposed to see that!" He leapt across the room and
looked around frantically. "Fuck, where is that fucking remote?"

One of the men in the video was super hairy, with a body almost exactly
like the one I had just seen in the shower ten minutes ago. The camera
zoomed in on the heavy hood as the man slid it back and forward over a
heavily-veined shaft. A creamy froth had built up around the rim of the
skin. The camera panned down to the woman's pussy, where someone's cock was
pistoning in and out. The guy was saying something in Italian, something
obviously dirty.

"Uh, it's fine. It's not my first time," I lied, trying to sound
casual. "Me and my friends seen tons of porno flicks.". The TV. I couldn't
pull my eyes from it. I had never seen foreskin or sperm before and they
looked so exotic and alien.

Big Lou stopped his search for a second as the camera moved around the
various men and ended up back on the guy fucking the woman. I used the
opportunity to reassure him.

"Yeah, I seen Deep Throat like four times." I said. The lewd acts on the
television were making me feel dizzy. Whoever was doing the fucking groaned
and pulled out, milking seven shots of cum all over the pussy.

We were both starting at the TV now. Something was twitching between my
legs and I could see the lump in Big Lou's sweats tenting against the
fabric.

"Well, have you ever seen a homemade porn like this?" he asked. The owner
of the ejaculating cock thwapped it against the cum-drenched slit, making a
wet sound, splattering and smearing the cum that he had just emptied out of
his enormous balls.

"Back in my town in Italy, we had to make our own porn," Big Lou
explained. He adjusted himself in his sweatpants again and the kiwis
switched from the left side to his right. "We'd get a group of us together
on a Friday night and just film it all. Too bad it was mostly guys! We
could only get one or two women." He seemed lost in the memory of it, then
he came to. "Anyway, I shouldn't be telling you all this, squirt. You're
just one of those spoiled brats we were talking about." He said this last
part gently.

"I won't tell anyone," I blurted out. I wanted to see more. "Please?"

The big Italian man didn't reply. We both watched on the screen as the
hairy, obscenely hung hairy guy nudged the guy who just shot his load
aside. The hairy guy had one hand on his ample, fur-covered belly, and with
the other he lined up his huge cock with the red pussy lips. Then he did
something that would stay with me for years. The hairy man reached down and
scooped up some of the sperm that was on the woman's belly and slathered it
onto his own prick. He took hold of his half-wrapped cockhead, and even
though his finger couldn't meet his thumb when encircled it, he slid his
foreskin up and down, coating his head and the skin folds with the other
man's thick sperm. Then he lined his creamed cockhead up with the woman's
hole and pushed it in. His cock was so fat, and she must have been so full
of sperm, that when he pushed in, cum seeped out around the sides of his
fat member. When he pulled out, the entirety of his cock was covered with
the balljuice of the men who had gone before him.

The TV turned off.

Lou was holding the remote in his hand. "Sex ed class is over, kid. There's
a teacher's meeting in the gym tonight and I'm not gonna get fired for
showing one of the students an old home movie!"

It wasn't until I was halfway home on my bike that it hit me. The hairy man
in the video must have been Big Lou. It was him who had picked up the sperm
and covered his penis with it before he fucked the woman. The adrenaline
pumped through my veins the whole ride home.

-

All week long I felt like I had discovered some secret world, a real world
behind the everyday world of homework and parents and video games. This new
world was one of big hairy men who did the dirty things that I had thought
only I thought about. I started to look at men differently. The UPS driver
with his brown shorts and brown short sleeved shirt that showed his furry
arms. My friend's mechanic grandfather who looked like Bob Hoskins who left
the door open whenever he was pissing. I couldn't believe straight men did
the things in that video, like fucking a woman while other men stood around
and watched. I fantasized about Big Lou in the shower. Why was I so taken
with him?

On my way home from school one afternoon, I got another glimpse of the
secret world that I had discovered. Some drifters hung out in a clearing
near the school and they would often drink there. My friends and I had
explored it once when nobody was there. We found half-empty Jack Daniels
bottles and some dirty magazines there in the clearing when I was ten, but
we just giggled when we looked through the magazines. I hadn't realized how
sexy pictures of naked men and women were. But now I knew. I remembered
those magazines as I drove my bike through the woods. I wanted to see them
again.

In the clearing, I saw one of the drifters through the branches, the big
brutish guy with a full beard, the one we called Bluto because he looked
like the guy from the Popeye cartoon. He had on a big blue sweater that he
had hiked up, showing his huge hairy belly. His pants were half-way down
his tree-trunk legs. He held one of the magazines in his left hand and it
looked like he was moving his other hand really hard and fast. I dropped my
bike and quietly crept around to the other side of the clearing just in
time to hear the huge man groan. I watched as he pulled the skin back on
his penis and ropes of white sprayed up into the air and landed on the
ground and all over the magazine pages. When he had finished, he batted his
fat meat a couple of times on the pages and heaved out a big sigh and a
belch. He turned towards me and started pissing. The bright yellow stream
coursed out of his cock like a jet and when it finally stopped he shook it
few times, milked the skin of the last drops, and hauled his cock back into
his pants.

I waited until he was gone to sneak into the clearing. The magazine lay on
the ground, drenched in piss and cum. I picked it up. Pools of translucent
pearlish fluid with swirls of something milkier coated the pages. More cum
and piss were seeping into the ground. I thought of Big Lou rubbing his
cock in the other man's juices in the video. Holding my breath, I rubbed
the white stuff with my fingers. I took some into my hand. I was no chef,
but there had to be at least three or four tablespoons of the stuff. I
sniffed it and a voice in my head said: this is what men make. Immediately
a darker, nastier voice followed it. Taste it, the voice said.

My heart was pounding so hard I felt like I was going to pass out. No. I
couldn't do this. But my brain started to go cloudy: my rational brain was
suddenly overwhelmed with thoughts of guy stuff and cock stuff and
bull-alpha straight blue collar men with heavy balls pumping their sperm
out of their bloated, dark, uncut pricks. Their skins, their smells, their
hairy dicks, their piss and cum all blending together. The tastes of
masculinity itself.

Before I knew what was happening, I brought my finger to my mouth. It
tasted like bleach. I wasn't sure it was a "good" taste, but that didn't
stop me from sucking it off my finger. And it didn't stop me from closing
my eyes and bringing the magazine up to my face and holding the page there
for a beat before I dragged my tongue up the page ("No! Stop!," my brain
uselessly protested). I scooped the still-warm seed and wet piss into my
mouth. I moaned and licked and licked until there was nothing left but my
saliva. The taste in my mouth and nose was so strong, so pungent that it
made me moan.The image of Bluto's bloated prick blowing its load and
pissing flashed in my mind's eye. This stuff was in his body only five
minutes before, and now it was inside me. A spasm of pleasure jolted
through my body as my teenage balls emptied themselves in my underwear. The
rush of my orgasm hits me so hard that I gasp and have to hold onto a
nearby tree.

-

After that, I couldn't stop thinking about Big Lou and his penis. What
would his sperm taste like, I wondered. I wanted to go back and ask if he
would show me the rest of the movie, but how would I do that? I was worried
he might think I was a queer. But what kind of straight men do the things
those men were doing in that movie? Is that just what group sex was like?
Anything goes?

Either way, I knew I had to try to see him again or I was going to go
crazy. I waited until the end of the school day and practice was over. His
truck was in the parking lot by the gym at the end of the day, so I figured
he was still staying in the apartment in the gym. After my piano practice,
I went and knocked on the door to his apartment. My head swam with a
mixture of panic and excitment as I heard footsteps walking to the door.

Big Lou was wearing a white bathrobe robe, loosely tied at the waist. The
thick black and silver chest hair that coated his chest was still damp and
I noticed that that it rose right up to his beard, with no delineation at
the neck. He had some shaving cream on his face but he hadn't shaved yet
and the black and grey whiskers stuck out through the foam.

"Well, if it isn't the Pissing Bandit!" he said. "Having some more bladder
problems?" He smelled like soap but still had a little bit of the day's
sweat on him.

I looked down at the floor floor shyly.

"No, I...um. I was wondering if I could maybe.. we could see the rest of
that movie."

I waited for him to kick me out, to yell at me, to tell me that I was a
faggot who had eaten the cum of some homeless guy. But he didn't. He just
nodded and looked at me, like he was trying to figure something out.

"So you liked watching amateur movies after all?" he asked. I nodded. Time
stretched out like taffy and neither of us said anything. I could hear my
heart beating in my chest and I was certain he could too. I should go, I
thought. There was no way I was going to get to see this man naked again,
obviously. It had been a stupid fantasy.

"Well, don't just stand in the doorway then," he scolded. He motioned
towards the living room. "Don't expect much, though. I'm living out of
boxes, ya see. I don't even have two chairs so you'll have to grab a seat
on the floor."

He plopped down on a loveseat and I sat down on a milkcrate sitting on the
floor next to him, my face at the level of his knees. The way he sat, with
his legs semi-spread, gave me a partial view into his robe, but all I could
see was shadows and lots of body hair. I got a waft of a rich, manly aroma
whenever he moved. It seemed to come directly from between his legs. Big
Lou picked up the remote and pulled up the video.

"Now let's see where were we...?", he wondered out loud, his hand dropping
to his lap while the video played.

"Ah, here we go. Now *this* was a real hot scene," he said, like we were
just two guys shooting the shit. A red-headed woman was sucking two older
men at the same time. One was about nine inches, the other smaller, about
six or so. Both of them were uncut. She was rubbing their fat cocks
together and slobbering on them. When the bigger cock began to shoot, the
other guy backed up, but the shooting cock still managed to coat the
retreating guy's cock head with his jets of sperm. They laughed and the
red-headed woman took the retreating guy's smaller cock into her cum-filled
mouth and started to suck him. The slippery mixture of saliva and sperm
felt too good for him to resist. He moaned as his own load shot up and out
of his cock and all over the woman's face.

"Those really were the days," he said. We watched ten more minutes of the
movie, and I learned more about sex in those ten minutes than I have in the
last fifty years. I wasn't too interested in the woman, but all of the
mature men fucking her made my head spin. But there was no more footage of
the guy I thought was Big Lou. When the scene ended and Big Lou grabbed the
remote to turn it off, I wanted to cry.

"Wait a sec" I blurted. I would do anything for him not to put it away. He
leaned back in his chair.  "What's up, buddy?"

"That guy in the video before?" I asked quietly, not believing the words
were coming out of my mouth.

""Huh?" He didn't know what I meant. I had him rewind until the part where
it showed the big hairy guy slathering the guy's sperm all over his big
cock.

"Right there!" I said. "The fat hairy guy!"

"Hey watch it pal. That `fat hairy guy' is yours truly."

I knew it!

"Wow, it is?" I pretended not to know it was him. "His - I mean, your -
thing is...so big." I tried to act like it wasn't sexual, like we were
talking about car parts or something. Big Lou chuckled. He picked at his
crotch and some of the robe loosened.

"Yeah, well know you know where my nickname comes from. Believe me, kid,
it's not always a good thing to be so big."

His robe was still hiding most of him so I summoned all of my courage.

"Maybe...do you think...maybe I could see it in real life?"

Lou continued watching the televisions without answering. In the movie, he
had brought his cock around to the woman's face and she was cleaning it
off, her mouth full of cum. She was spitting it back onto the cock and then
sucking it off the foreskin again. Two men were beating off next to him and
one of them, his foreskin was so long that it still covered the head. That
guy started to shoot. Big globs of cum rose to the wrinkled pouch and flew
off to the left and right like snot, some of it landing on Big Lou's cock
and mingling with his sperm while the woman sucked it.

"You, uh, want to...see my penis?" he asked deliberately. "Like...now?
Here?"

I nodded and looked down at the ground.

"I...uh...never seen one so big before and...well, I guess I'm curious."

Big Lou frowned.

I rushed to add "Curious in a science way!"

He smiled vaguely. "I don't think that's such a great idea, kid. I could
get in a lot of trouble."

But his robe was open now. He wasn't looking at me or acknowledging me, but
I could finally see Big Lou's cock. The real life counterpart to the huge
cum-covered dick on the television was no more than a foot from my face. It
was darker than rest of him, like his balls and penis had come from a body
much darker than his. A bloated fur-covered sack hung on either side of the
large thick wrinkled tube that was at least two inches from side to
side. Most of the top of it was sheathed in a bunch of skin, but the
squarish head was just too thick to be completely covered. I got of whiff
of his cock, musty and damp with sweat. It smelled like sex.

"Yeah I guess sex ed isn't the same as it used to be for you soft kids, is
it?" he said, as his eyes drifted back to the screen where a grey-haired
man in his sixties was eating a woman out. He was jerking his cock, slick
and sloppy with cum, either his own or someone else's, I couldn't tell. The
man threw his head back as a river of cum started running out of the his
slit. He caught it in his hand and slathered it up with the cum on his
dick, making a sloppy, frothy mess.

"That was Antonio," Big Lou said. "We called him The Fountain."

Big Lou seemed happy to be able to continue watching. In front of me, his
penis had started to plump up, and his absent fondling began to give way to
a more intentional skinning back and forth. Every now and then the dark
folds of his foreskin would catch on the ridge of his head and stay
there. As he played with it, a thick, syrupy string started dangling from
the folds. Big Lou sighed.

"Well, there it is. You've seen it." Big Lou said. He started to pull his
robe closed. I gulped and took a chance, knowing this opportunity would
never come again.

"Can I see it hard, Mr. Spagnelli?"

When I said this, his meat pulsed between his legs, clearly wanting the
relief it was being denied. He looked down at himself and saw the hanging
string of precum and caught it with his finger. He rubbed it on the cock
head.

"You're awful curious, kid. You know some people would call this gay shit."

Big Lou leaned back and let the robe fall back open to his sides. With his
free hand he reached down and pulled on his big balls, stretching them and
pulling them upwards, unknowingly showing me how the hair of his big sack
combined with the thicket of hair that led to his ass. I wondered what it
would be like to have my face there.

"Oh no, I'm not gay," I protested. "It just looks so big in the video and
I...never seen one like it!"

Big Lou's hand couldn't fit around the gristly tube he held it in his
hand. The ample foreskin was still bunched up behind the ridge, the
accordion-like folds of the skin hood glistening, now creamy and white with
his developing pre-juices.

"Yeah, well," he said, almost embarrassed. "You can see I can't even get my
hand around the whole thing."

"How come your balls are so big?" I asked as I leaned forward, trying my
hardest to make it sound like it was the scientific inquiry I was
pretending it to be.

"It just means I have a lot of sperm and that...well, I probably need to
cum, kid." Big Lou said. "Haven't had any pussy in a good week or two."

He leaned over his cock and drooled some saliva into his hand. "Sex ed
lesson number one: lubrication". He rubbed what little saliva he had onto
his rigid dick. "Trouble is, I like it nice and wet, as you probably can
see from the video. And even though I make a lot, I'm out of lube."

With my eyes fixed to his giant dick, I heard the words come out of my
mouth. "I...maybe I can help. If you want," I said. I brough my hand to my
mouth, filling it with saliva. The world seemed to stand still again,
teetering on the edge of something forbidden and inevitable. I wondered
again if he would punch me or tell me to leave. The musky smell of his
crotch was like a narcotic - I didn't care what happened to me at this
point.

"Yeah. Maybe." he said, a glassy look in his eyes.

I held my cupped hand over his cock and turned it over, letting my saliva
drip onto his cock. Some of it missed and went on his big bush. Even so, he
stopped his skinning long enough to collect the spit that landed on his
cock and rub it all over it. Then he quickly pulled the skin up over the
head, encasing it entirely. Then he pulled it down again. Then up. The
skinned snout showed a pool of white and between that and the saliva and
his skinning, globs of goo were collecting on the underside of his
glans. When he pulled the foreskin back, white juice coated the fat red
head. When he went to lick his hand, his freed meat lolled to the side and
brushed against his huge thigh briefly, leaving long, yogurt-like strands
hanging on the black curly hair.

"Thanks, kid" he muttered as he started to masturbate himself in front of
me. "That'll help with our little science show."

I leaned back and watched him. The saliva clearly helped arouse him,
because his cock reddened and engorged with blood. The opaque fluid that
pulsed from his slit was pouring out now and his whole hand was
frothing. His motions made a squelching wet noise.

"Wow, you make so much of that...stuff."

He looked down at himself, just as a fresh rivulet of precum gushed out of
the head. "Yeah but you can never have enough lube. Wish I had some more,"
he said, almost to himself. He closed his eyes and leaned back, starting to
pick up rhythm.

I spat in my hand again and leaned towards him. This time I lowered my hand
to Big Lou's penis. I took the fat gristly tube in my hand and slathered my
spit on it. My heart was banging so hard that my head hurt.

"Whoa!" he said, pulling away a little bit. "I don't know about that."

"I don't want to miss and get it all over you," I said. "If I put it on
directly, you'll get it all." I gripped the most private part of his body,
and slid my hand up and down. It pulsed appreciatively in my hand. The
shaft was totally covered in white now, the juices seeping between my
fingers. He put his large pre-cum slick paw over my small hand and started
a slow up and down motion, guiding me. He pulled his skin up and over the
head then back down so it bunched up over the ridge.

"Yeah...I guess" he said, confused by the logic but obviously too horny to
stop. My face was maybe six inches from his dick, so close that every
breath I took filled my nose with his rich funk. One of his balls hung
lower than the other, and when he stroked himself with my hand they seemed
to move inside his hairy bag.

Big Lou closed his eyes and splayed back in the chair. His legs fall open
lewdly. His hairy belly, strong but heavy, hung over his incredible cock. I
leaned further in until I could rest my head against the wall of his hairy
thigh. I felt wetness on my cheek from the globs of cum that had drooled on
his leg.

"Any more of that lube?" Big Lou asked weakly. I leaned over until my mouth
was an inch from his cock and I drooled onto it.

"Oh fuck," he moaned.

My hand still wrapped in his paw, he pulled it up and over this fresh
saliva, mixing it with the existing juices to make a white froth worthy of
any cappuccino. I could hear that squishing sound as he skinned his meat up
and down, up and down.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck" he exclaimed, like he was in pain. He pulled the skin
sharply, sheathing his head. He held it there, almost like he was trying to
avoid the inevitable orgasm. This was my chance. I opened my mouth, closed
my eyes and eased the uncircumcised club of his adult penis into my teen
mouth.

-

He tasted like warm salt water.

I gently removed his hand and ran my tongue up under his wrapped head, then
rolled my tongue around glans nestled inside the musky encasing. I found a
thick deposit of his goo and used the tip of my tongue to pull it out and
into my hungry mouth. The head peeled out, gliding on the ample lubricant
it was making. The slit in the partially exposed glans opened wide and
burped up a huge glob of his manly nectar. I pulled his foreskin like straw
up to collect all his juices and slurped inside it, then I pushed as much
of his member as I could into my throat, the wet slick folds easing the
journey down. He moaned and when I looked up I could see tiny beads of
sweat on the dark hair of his belly. I must have had half of him in my
mouth and I could barely breathe. The taste of a man's meat unleashed
something primitive in me, and I needed all of him inside me.

I tried to relax my throat muscles to suck more of him into my little
mouth. He gasped and his hands fell on top of my head. He tried to stand.

"Kid. You gotta stop," he said. But I couldn't. I was hooked on this man's
sex. My finger crept underneath his balls and towards his asshole, covered
in its jungle of black hair. I fisted his prick with all my might and Big
Lou gasped and arched his back, electrified with the sensations of my slick
hand on his prick. And that's when I saw it, the pink asshole, glistening
with the damp hair that covered it. I dove in.

"No more, please," he protested, again trying to stand up while using my
head for leverage. That only managed to push his asshole further into my
face. My tongue reached his warm hole and I moaned. I buried my whole face
pressed into his hairy ass. I scooped the precum from his thigh and rubbed
it all over his hole and latched onto his hairy sphincter with my mouth
like I was sucking the venom out of snakebite. Big Lou's ass tasted like a
damp musky man's ass should taste: clean and juicy, the flavor of a working
man. I ran my tongue along the soft, bulbous bumps of his asshole and felt
it sucking my tongue in. For about five minutes I French-kissed Big Lou's
hole then pulled my face back to admire my work, the hair matted down with
my saliva. His hands came down onto my head in a weak effort to pull me
off.

"You...we...can't do this"

Hungry for his ball juice, I dragged my tongue all the way up his hairy
taint and grabbed his sloppy cock with my hand. I pulled the skin up and
down and spat obscenely onto the shaft. His massive prick was burping up
such thick precum now. Rivers of it were running down the gristly meat, so
much that it almost looked like he was cumming. I slid my throat down on it
and, using my hand, began to jerk him off and throat him at the same time.

The hands on my head reached around past my ears and locked together behind
my head. Big Lou started to buck in his seat. He pushed his giant meat all
the way into my throat, so deep that it felt like he was in my belly. He
started making strange guttural noises, like he was choking. His big furry
nuts pulled up and twitched under him. His penis was so deep Innside of me,
I felt like I couldn't tell where he ended and I began. His legs started
shuddering. He locked my head between them. I couldn't see or hear or
breathe. My entire head was stuffed with this man's fat hairy flesh and as
he shuddered and bellowed, I felt myself losing consciousness. His ample
soft stomach was pressed against my forehead. I vaguely heard him grunting
above me, like it was coming from somewhere far away.

His penis ballooned monstrously in my mouth. I felt the huge tube under his
cock shaft expand as his two-week pent-up load rushed up through his
foreskin and squirted directly into my gullet. The fear of drowning brought
me back to full alertness and I pulled him out, the huge sloppy pole
gushing in front of me, coating my face. I pulled the skin back behind his
head, opened my mouth, and took the next several shots directly from his
slit. The salty warm sperm filled my mouth almost immediately. I swallowed
it down, took a breath and slid his fat meat all the way down again, the
cummy tunnel of my throat warmly and sloppily suctioning his tool. Wet
smacking sounds filled the roam, along with Big Lou's groans and my mewling
as I tried to get as much of his baby-making juice out of him that I
could. After his tenth shot, he started to slow down. I used a combination
of his sperm and my saliva to go up and down on him with my hand and
throat, teasing the last spasms of the unwilling orgasm out of him.

He collapsed back in his chair. I sat there for a few moments, frightened
to look up. Every thirty seconds or so, a fresh aftershock would go through
him, and his cock would drool some cum out. Without saying a word, I caught
it with my tongue and savored the last of the warm salty sperm this man had
made. His prick twitched as it deflated, and the head slowly began to
retreat until the wet foreskin slid up and over the ridge and encased the
head. I heard snoring above me and when I looked up, Big Lou's eyes were
closed. He had fallen asleep, his hands still on the back of my head