Date: Mon, 22 Apr 2019 23:59:44 +0200
From: robert smith <CigarBull@mail.com>
Subject: bull and two ooys 8 - A week in the mountains

Post under gay, bisexual, authoritarian, adult-youth, rural

Here is the next installment of Bull and two boys.  In it, if so inclined,
you will follow the saga of a strapping young man blessed and cursed with a
cock of Brobdingnagian proportions. We will trace his adventures as he
comes to understand and relish his nature as a hard man of sometimes sex
and sometimes violence. A born conqueror of men, I will trace his
picaresque exploits across the globe as he goes from young marine, to
for-hire mercenary, to Montana state trooper and back to his first love,
ranch hand on his father's cattle and horse spred in the Seely-Swan valley
of western Montana.  Along the way, he will experience many adventures with
unruly natives, local men, snooty CA liberal scum invading his beautiful
state, condescending eastern tourists and gay boys looking for fun after a
pride march.  This is fiction, though often based on many of my own
experiences - literary-ized, so to speak - and is not meant for anything
other than pleasant day-dreaming over a good cigar for the very rare
ubermen and faggy poppers for the plentiful untermenchen in this PC world
of ours.

Cigars help make a man a man, and I suggest you – hunters - give em a
try.  Just chawing is plenty enough – gets yer head spinnin and the rest
of you rarin for action.  They are the best high and incitement to vigorous
activity/mastery known.  Let the bottom boys do their poppers, you Men,
give a big black,strong stogie a try.

If you like this story and want more, let me know.  Might make it available
in novella form privately (maybe more violent) as it's been re-written so
many times after being posted on Nifty.  !

About Nifty: this tale and all the others here are only possible when you
fags cough up the dough to keep it goin. Get a boner reading here? - so,
contribute and contribute plenty - today.  For top men, fergit it, only the
fags should pay. That's an order

Bull and two boys. 8 - A week in the mountains.

It was a hard week at work, breakin up bar-fights, roughin up kids who had
thought stealing was fun till Mitchell caught up with em, stoppin and
scaring the shit out of the CA and eastern tourist trash that was poisoning
his beautiful state.  Even though he was tempted by some of them, he was
givin his equipment a rest - time to heal and for those big drained balls
of his to refill with seed.  Always the spoiled kid of the family he smiled
self-satisfied, inordinately proud that God had blessed him with such a
mighty organ, a real slayer of men.  All the time though, Mitch knew that
he needed his father and his brothers, especially no-nonsense Manus, to
keep him in line.  When his thoughts drifted to Bruce, that mighty weapon
always began to rise for combat, but the moutain's were in his blood and
were calling.  He'd get to Bruce in his own good time.

By Friday, when he woke with his usual piss hard-on, giving it a friendly
stroke or two he remarked `good big buddy, ready an able for duty' as he
showered and got prepared for the tough weekend of policing ahead of him.
He enjoyed his power over the rowdy transgressors all Saturday day and
night. Tight trooper uniform fitting him like a glove, obscene bulge
swelling proud, bull cigars jutting out of his blouse pocket, he commanding
obedience and respect.  No matter how ruff and tuff they thought
themselves, men and boys submitted to his authority the minute they saw
those eyes glittered with barely suppressed rage while his mouth hardened,
his paws knotted into fists by the service piece and sap on his hip.
Again, he was sometimes tempted, but that coming week up in the mountains
was always foremost in his mind, and so, no, he just did his cop duty and
went his way.

Finally, Sunday mass, communion and the big family dinner with all the
brothers, wives, current girlfrinds and kids noisily passed.  By late
afternoon Mitch was happily bouncing up the North Fork Road, the sky
lowered, snow in the air.  Turnin off to the west, he 4-wheeled it up the
long dirt road, and then off onto the family property.  Up some more and
onto the rugged plateau where the cabin lay, the whole world seeming to
spill away below.  To the east, the mighty mountains of Glacier were
occasionally visible through fast moving cloud cover.  It began to snow as
he went inside and got a good fire goin.  Strippin off his clothes, despite
boyish pride in his equipment it was good to be hangin free without a lot
of widened eyes gaping at him.

Makin a simple meal, he ate then relaxed over a book by the fire, feelin
good.  All evenin it snowed, and snowed hard, a blizzard whippin snow and
sleet, rattlin against the windows.  Sometimes he padded to those huge
windows facing towards Glacier, invisible through the storm.  He enjoyed
the bracing icy wind that crept through the mullions stinging good on his
body.  Yawning a happy yawn, Mitch threw himself under a light blankets
happy in his beloved Montana, and drifted off.

It snowed all the next day as Mitch brought in wood, kept the fire roaring,
ate good chow and relaxed over his book Always buck naked inside, he kept
tryin to catch a glimpse of the glorious massive peaks to the east, but
never saw them through the snow.  Standing there as God made him, he drank
in the wonder and glory of the Lord of Creation's work.

Back to his Gissing novel, through the howling wind and rattling snow Mitch
thought he heard a faint sound disconnected from the shrieking of the wind
and the hard pattering of snow and ice on walls and windows.  Hearing the
sound a second time, he tossed the novel. Into a coat he bounded into the
storm.  Kicking through the drifts on his deck, and shielding his face from
the lacerating ice, he leaned forward and listened.  There it was again,
distinctly a human calling for help somewhere out there.  Back in, shaking
the snow and ice from his genitals and legs, quickly into trousers and
boots, he fought his way through the snow.  Mitch was bellowing through
hands forming a megaphone, the weak voice answering, either one of them
sometimes heard and sometimes not through the blizzard.

Striking one way then the other depending on the strength or weakness of
the voice calling for help, after near an hour freezing his balls off, hat,
face and coat caked with ice so thick it cracked when he moved, he stumbled
and fell right over a body buried under the icy snow.  Yanking it up by
what seemed to be the shoulders, he saw a man, a man in bad shape.  The
face was bright red and swollen, the lips blue, and he had lost control of
his reason, babbling incoherently to his mother, his father, having
conversations with people that weren't there.  Throwing an arm around those
ice caked shoulders, Mitch slowly dragged him through the drifts and the
stinging blast, his eye lashes so caked with ice he could barely see the
cabin. It was a wavery blob, floating in front of his eyes, the brilliantly
illuminated floor to ceiling front windows his north star.  The man he was
trying to help totally gave out about 200 feet from safely, so Mitch had to
sling him over his shoulder to make it home.  Our hero is a big man, but
his legs were near buckling as the two men more or less feel forward
through the door.

Slamming it against the blast, Mitch stripped off his freezing boots, coat
and trousers and shook off like a dog after a bath sending snow and melting
ice flying. He wiped caked ice from his eyes with one, he began working the
stiff buttons of the man's overcoat with his other hand.  Mitch hustled him
towards the fire, pulling off the frozen-solid jacket as he did.  A young
guy stood there shaking, almost unconscious, his clothes glued to him.
Holding him firm by the shoulders till he could sorta stand, Mitch stripped
the wet, freezing clothes off and wrapped him in a blanket, rubbing him
roughly with it, then sat him in front of the fire.  Going to the booze,
Mitch belted down a stiff double-brandy and relaxed for a moment enjoying
the heat as it went south. Holding the man's head in one and tipped the
bottle to the guy's lips with the other hand, Mitch had him slowly
drink. Teeth chattering, the young man - his reason returning - mumbled out
an incoherent thanks as Mitch vigorously continued toweled with the
blanket.  He was a good-sized guy, with jet black hair.  Couldn't see his
eyes as they were mostly closed as he slowly stopped shaking.  Giving him
another small sip of brandy, Mitch strode to the kitchen, always watching
to see the fellow was ok.

`Can you eat?'  `I'm starving, yes. Thank you so much.'  When he tried to
rise, Mitch firmly pushed him back down in the chair.  `No, you eat here,
where it's warm.'  Nodding he tucked into the hot food, Mitchell carefully
controlling him so he wouldn't be sick.  `Whoa!  Take it easy! There's
plenty more where this came from.'  The guy even laughed softly at that,
and complied.  Mitch fed him slowly and saw he was going to be OK.  `Stand
by the fire.  See how yer feelin.'  Now aware that he was naked, he
reluctantly stood, wobbling on his feet as the blanket fell away.  Well
made, he was, near 6', slender but strong, with a little bit more of that
jet-black hair on his chest and a shriveled cock hanging below.  Swaying on
his feet, Mitch took him by the shoulders and sat him down again. `My name
is Luke Spencer. Thank you.  You saved my life and I am forever in your
debt.'  `What the hell you doin out in weather like this, boy.'  Hummm,
why'd he say `boy'? And why did his big ol' cock stir when the guy said
'forever in your debt?' 'I've been hiking through the storm since dawn
today.  Almost froze to death, then at dusk I saw light and made for it.  I
was so delirious by then I thought I saw God standing in the window.'
`Shiiiiit boy, that was me!' 'His cock visibly twitched at that 'God'
stuff. 'You were hiking in this weather, alone?  Don't you know better?'
It's my vacation, sir.'  Hummmmm again at `sir.'' and his cock started to
darken as blood pumped.  I'm from Massachusetts and didn't want to miss a
chance to plant my feet in this beautiful land.

Mitch glowed hearing his glorious Montana spoken of with such reverence.
`Luke, you got good taste but not a lot o sense.  Fine that it turned out
OK though.'  `Thanks to you...ah?'  `Mitchell's the name, Luke.  Here, you
can handle yer own liquor now' and he passed him the bottle.  Luke took a
big swig and the booze, hot meal and blazing fire had the color returning
to his cheeks.  He was aware now that the man who had saved him was buck
naked, and a giant in every respect with an enormous cock that seemed to be
slowly rising in erection.  A long silence ensued.  `You alright
now...boy?'  `Yes sir, I think so.'  `You gotta be bushed.  Ready for bed,
or you wanna talk some more.' `I'd like to talk, If that is alright with
you.'  `How's yer vacation goin, or, how was it goin till the storm?'
`Wonderful, sir. What magnificence' at which his eyes slowly rose looking
first at the amazing weaponry and then up to his rugged, handsome face.
With blue linked to black eyes, Mitch remarked casually, 'Can't help it
boy, my dick rises when it wants to. I ain't shot a load in a week, and
that's that.  Meeby it's all the excitement we had out there in the storm.'
'And meeby it's you kid,' but that was thought, not spoken.  Blushing
scarlet because the big guy noticed he was looking at his cock, Luke
continued, `what great, generous, open-hearted people.  You taking me in
and taking care of me.  It's not like that back home.'  `Shiiit boy,
anybody wud do the same.'  `No sir, they wouldn't. You saved my life sir.
I'll always be grateful.'  Luke spoke of his love for this wild and rugged
land. 'I come here every chance I get.' `This is God's country, yer right
bout that boy.'  And so they talked, Luke telling him of his life back
home, of his construction job and of his Smith college girlfriend, and her
disdain for manual labor and toxic masculinity till Mitch could see he was
beginning to nod off.

Giving him a sharp slap on the face to wake him up a bit, `Got a choice
Luke.  You can sleep on the bear skin – I killed and skinned it myself
– warm and cozy by the fire, or try to fit yerself to the short couch
over there - or bunk with me.  Only got one bed in this place.  It wud by
tight, but I'm fine with it if you are.'  After another silence, Luke
looked up from throbbing man cock into Mitchell's eyes, `A bed sounds
awfully good, sir, if you don't mind.'

`Com'on then!  Let's hit the hay.'  Mitch pulled Luke up by his shoulders
but the boy began to sink, so the big guy lifted him easily into his arms
and carried him up the stairs.  `Git in boy, up by the wall.'  When Mitch
joined, Luke's skin was still freezing cold, so he wrapped his hairy arms
around him pressing his body up tight.  `You're so warm sir, and all that
fur, it feels good.'  `Yeah, my body temperature is a bit higher than
normal. Think of me as a big hot water bottle.'

Soon soft snorting then loud snoring and Mitch's arms loosened and he fell
away onto his back, Luke nestled up against him. Slowly shifted till he was
facing the sleeping giant, soft light filtering in from the white snow
swirling out the big windows.  Mitch, mountain man that he was, had pushed
the blanket down in his sleep revealing his huge chest covered in thick
dark blond curls.  `I did see a God,' Luke murmured to himself.  His heart
racing, he softly slid his hand under the blanket and gingerly, barely
touching the hot body, worked his shaking fingers through the thatch.
Reaching the crotch, he ran a trembling finger down the seemingly endless
length of that incredible penis.  Stretching his hand as wide as it could
go, he lowered it over the impossible girth, Mitch snorted and moved as
Luke froze in terror.  When loud snoring recommenced, he again, with the
gentlest touch he could manage, continued to play with the giant beside
him.  `What a man,' he murmured.  `You think so boy,' Mitch sleepily
replied, and taking Luke's shaking hand in his, firmly molded it to his
manhood.  `Git a good feel boy.'  `I'm sorry sir, I... `Cut the baby talk
boy, it's OK.  You wanna explore, well go ahead.  Only - when what yer
holdin gits riled, it gits its own way.

Reaching over to the night stand, he grabbed a big torpedo bit and spat off
the end and jammed it deep in his jaw.  `Ain't had a stogie all week, seems
like the right time.'  `Wow, what a big cigar sir!'  Blushing, he laughed
as Mitch joined in `Big's the right word Luke.' Luke sat up next to the
relaxed, relining colossus, the bedclothes fallen off completely.  The
young guy's eyes were wide as he explored the mighty body, running his
fingers through the curls, feeling the huge biceps that Mitch deligtedly
flexed for him, held the big guy's immense penis waggling and flopping it
on the muscled gut, lifting and admiring the monster balls that spilled out
over his hand. `The girls must go crazy over you Mitch, sir.'  Tossing
matches to the boy `light my cigar son.  'It ain't only the girls.'

Luke bent down to get a closer look as the mighty slayer began to darken to
purple black and grow.  Luke ran his fingers over the bulging girdling
veins and and watched wide-eyed as the hood slowly retracted revealing the
tip of the enormous head, pre cum drooling out in rivulets.

`God, it's massive.' 'It's God's gift to me Luke, a gift of terror or
delight, dependin.'  `On what sir.' `On me, boy' and cupping Luke by the
head he slowly pushed him down till his lips were just above his oozing
cock head.  You like what you see and feel, boy?'  `Yes Sir!  `An, yer
girlfriend?'  `What girlfriend, sir?'  With a satisfied grunt, Mitch pushed
him lower and felt his sweet lips touch his barely exposed knob.  `Ever
serve a man before Luke?'  `No sir, I'm straight' was mumbled out as his
lips gently worked over the spouting piss slit.  `You was straight, boy.'

Mesmerized, Luke started to murmur out an answer but Mitch shoved him down
till lips were stretched over the curvature of his knob, the silky hood
riding up over the boy's lips.  A little resistance was expected and easily
handled.  Mitch pulsed his cock, sending rich slobber into Luke mouth.
Holding him firm, the boy dutifully drank it down.

'Yer askin for it boy.  It's now make or...break time. You wanna roll over
and go to sleep, or u want me to take u wit this horse dick o mine?  If
it's the latter, it's gonna hurt like nothin ever hurt an I ain't gonna
stop till I seed u in both holes.'  `Take me?  Oh God, Yes, sir I want you
to take me.'  `No more talkin then, service daddy's cock' and pushin the
hand that had never left off holding Luke's head, he forced him down, his
hood slowly retracting as his piece began disappearing in the boy's mouth,
then throat.  For a virgin throat, it wasn't too hard to get him down 4 or
5 inches as his weapon was soaked slick with cock drool.  `Big, ain't it
boy, and u barely begun.'

Enjoyin his cigar, Mitch watched intently as he worked the boy up and down,
pleased that he was tryin so hard to serve him. Luke's cock was stiff, a
respectable cut 7 or so inches.  Mitch reached over and began workin the
boy's balls, feelin that tight mouth working wildly as he did so.  Cock
snot was drippin out of the boy's dick.  When Luke reached to try and jerk
himself, for the first time rough, Mitch slapped his hand away.  `This is
about me, boy.'  Liking the crazy kid who went off in a Montana blizzard
alone, he worked him gentle, up and down, seating a few more inches each
time, pullin back when Luke started to gag.  The big guy hadn't cum in over
a week and the tight sweet suckin had him rock hard and gnarled hideous and
beautiful at the same time.  Pulling out all the way so he wouldn't cum too
fast, the boy eagerly lapped at the drooling battering ram.  That was just
too fucking much, and Mitch rammed 11 inches of throbbing cock in and began
to ejaculate.  Holding the bucking head hard now, he kept the boy firmly
impaled as he fed him his first man seed. `Drink deep son, Daddy is in you,
planting his seed.'  The boy drank from the hose for a long time.  As he
began to soften, Mitch pushed Lukw down till the full 15-inches were seated
to his balls.  When Mitch let him go, Luke fell back exhausted nestling up
against the hairy giant, his face in the thickly haired armpit.  Mitch
murmured `I'll fuck you in the mornin boy, now it's sleepy time fer both of
us.'  And so they fell asleep, Luke's face in Mitch's armpit and his hand
on the mighty cock.

Luke woke first.  Mitch was still snoring with his splitter standing to
obscene attention.  Again, bending down, he drank in the view, mightier
even than the mountains that bred a man like this.  Like a naughty son
sneaking in on his sleeping father, he explored the generative organ with
wonder and admiration.  It was Godlike in its enormity, terrible in its
beauty and power. Stroking it gently with both hands he gasped as the soft
as silk hood slid up and down, the flared head appearing and disappearing
as he fondled it gently.  As he stroked the veiny dong, Mitch's huge balls
rose and fell, shifting in their heavy sack.

Bending down, he kissed the man's cock head, licking his tongue over the
piss slit as it began to ooze.  Opening his mouth as wide as it would go,
he softly engulfed the head and forced himself down on the rugged shaft.
`Great way to wake up, with my boy servin me.'  Stickin his big fingers in
the thick numbing glop he always had handy – never know when a good
thing's gonna come along – be began working the virgin boy-pussy. Luke
jumped and bucked as Mitch chuckled and swung his hand back over the boy's
head to continue gittin Daddy ready.

Effortlessly flipping this young man over on his back, this young man who
was serving him like a devoted son, Mitch looked in his eyes 'this is the
hurtin part boy.  Yer gonna feel like yer gonna die.  But, I promise u,
before I'm done you gonna be spurting yer spunk all over yer chest in
ecstasy.  Do you trust me, boy?  Do you want to please me, boy?' `'Yes
sir,' squeaked out.'  `Look into my eyes the whole time.'  Raising the
kid's legs up over his shoulders, holding them wide apart `hold daddy's
cock boy and aim it at yer slathered butt hole, then hold on fer the ride
of yer life.'  Luke's hands were trembling so hard Mitch's splitter kept
missing the target, till with an experienced shifting of his hips, he
shoved in.  The boy shuddered and bit his lip, always looking up in Mitch's
eyes.  The kid was moaning in agony as Mitch stopped and held it there,
letting his novice playmate get used to it.  Then, with slow, very slow
thrusts, he began to fuck him, muscled, hairy butt cheeks contracting into
knots with each pump.

The big guy took it slow and easy, now and then reaching down to feel and
admire his tool and slather it thickly with numbing slop.  Soon, Luke
wasn't thinking about the pain but the pleasure and the joy of serving this
man, the man who had saved his life and was now taking his reward.  For the
first time, Mitch kissed him, and the boy's head began to spin.  Picking up
the pace, inch by mighty inch sank in, strong even strokes thrusting it
deeper each time.  Kissing him deeply his tongue thrust in as aggressively
as his cock, Mitch slammed home.  The kid shuddered as he felt those huge
balls resting on his ass.  `You givin yerself to Daddy, boy?'  `Oh yes,
yes, yes Sir!'  `Feel me deep in you boy?'  Crying he mumbled out yes over
and over, running his hands over the knotted arms that held him.  All the
time the mighty organ was riding in and out, occasionally slamming home so
hard his balls slapped audibly on that nicely muscled rump.  Fucking hard
and mean now, the tight butt ring clamped on him like a vice, Mitch shot
rich man seed in his boy as Luke spasmed and shot the biggest load of his
life all over his chest and face. `Take Daddy's seed boy. Feel God's life
giving power.'  Grunting and growling he kept fucking his balls-full of
semen into Luke.

Slowly pulling out, he stood considerin.  Instead of presenting it for
cleaning, he threw a sheet at Luke.  `Wipe yer face boy, then take a
shower.  I'll git breakfast.'  With that, Mitch moved easy, muscles
playing, into the bathroom and the sound of water was heard as Luke slowly
wiped the slop from his face and ass.  This must be a dream, some
wonderful, terrible dream.  It can't be true; HE can't be true.  When he
felt the rich creamy semen oozing from his stretched butt hole, he knew
though that it was.

After a steaming hot shower, Luke realizing his clothes were downstairs,
tried on a pair of Mitch's trousers and one of his shirts.  Looking in the
mirror, he looked like a 5-year-old in Daddy's clothes, and biting his lip
in embracement descended the stairs in his birthday suit.  Mitch was
finishing up a big breakfast of bacon and eggs, whistling his favorite
Donizetti tune, of course naked.  Turning brightly to Luke, he gave him a
long look up and down, letting out a low wolf-whistle which got Luke
blushing rosy pink.  Diggin in, they finished up and Mitch sent him to wash
the dishes.

As Luke cleaned up, Mitch went to the window.  The storm had passed and the
sun was breaking over Glacier's mighty peaks.  He felt Luke's presence by
his side and slipped a strong arm around the young man's waist, pulling him
tight.  Near 6 feet of snow was piled against the window in huge drifts.
`Looks like yer here fer a time boy.'  `Yes sir.'  `You sorry boy?'  `No
sir, I'm happy.'  Pulling him tighter still, `You OK from last night an
this mornin?'  Luke snuggled up against him and tried to wrap his arms
around, but they didn't meet.  `Good boy' Mitch murmured.  `What do you
want me to call you, sir?'  `I'll answer to anything from asshole to
blaggard, to scoundrel or whatever you think fits.'  What'll it be, boy?'
`Father, sir!  `What about yer real daddy, how bout him?'  `Never knew him
sir, my mom raised me as a single mother.  Mitch ground his teeth.  Another
poor boy bereft of a father's guidance, love and discipline.

`Wonder you grew up as fine as you have boy, without a father to guide
you.'  Gently pushing back to arm's length, he took a careful look.  Luke
was a solid young man, near 6', slender, strong, well put together.  He was
sleek and supple, muscled by nature and hard work, not some faggy gym, with
a nice sized cock and balls to complete the package.  Good lookin too, with
black eyes to match his hair and set off his porcelain complexion.  `No
father to teach you boy?  `Not till you, father.'

`I'm 26 boy.  You?'  '22 Sir.'  Not old enuff to be yer dad...son.'
`Kneeling, Luke reverently held and kissed Mitch's long, thick flaccid
penis.  `You are everything, father.'  `Then be a good boy, or Daddy will
have to beat that hot, firm ass o yers.'  The boy's clothes had dried by
the fire and Mitch helped him to dress.  `Well then, if I'm to be yer
father, it's time to teach you the ways of Montana. Let's go.'  And out
they went for an exhilarating day in the wilderness, snowshoeing through
the rugged land, so much of it belonging to the O'Rourke family.  Luke was
game, but not half the man Mitch was, and the big guy had to pace himself
to his charge.  Once in a while the rested when they could find something
they could sit on as Mitch pointed out and taught him the lay of this
glorious land.  Eager to learn from the man, the boy listened thrilled to
be there and with him.  Back just at dusk, Mitch stripped and stripped his
boy and made a hearty dinner.  Luke was bushed but truly alive, but when he
tried to go up the stairs, Mitch chuckled, caught him up in his arms and
carried him up again, to the bed, and fucked him long and hard all night.

Next morning, rising before Mitch to admire and play with the man's
colossal penis he glanced to the bookcase and curious, went over to see.
Gissing, Hardy, Gibbon, Celine, Zola, Trollope, Aristotle, Virgil - on and
on the names rolled.  Luke felt Mitch's heavy hand on his shoulder.
`Whatcha doin, boy?'  ` You read this stuff, sir?  As Mitchell nodded,
curious Luke pointed to one book - Zola's Le Debacle and quizzically
looking up 'what's this one,sir?' That's a book for a man enjoying a really
big, all-night cigar.  Maybe the best and most terrible war novel ever
written son.'  'And this one' as Luke's finger drifted across the titles
and stopped at Trollope's He Knew He Was Right. 'A fine, clear headed
portrayal of a man and a woman who never should have married and what
terrible things result from their havin done so.'  Mitch explained all the
military books - that was his vocation since he had been 17 and he liked
it.  The novels were for relaxation and digging into great minds that
understood so much of what was important.  'Then why the cowboy talk sir?'
'Well, I'll tell ya, son.  My father taught me to not only revere the great
men who made our world but the ways and lays of Montana and he was right as
he is in most everything. I talk this talk cuz its my heritage and my blood
and I'm as proud of that as I am of this – as he reached down and held
his flaccid cock.  'Don't like it, son?'  `I love it, all of it, Sir. You
are everything that is wise and good and manly.'

The week passed in a blur of learning and serving. Mid week, Mitch killed a
buck and made Luke watch.  He turned a bit green and his lips were
trembling, but he obeyed as Mitch dressed it out.  With a strong arm around
the boy's shoulder he gently explained the ways of the world and of life
and death. They had a fine meal of grilled venison that night. Day by day
Mitch diligently taught Luke. He taught him the basics of boxing and
wrestling, the big guy goin hard on the boy, goadin him to show his own
power, jabbing him hard enough to goad him to fight back.  Putting him in a
choke hold till he near passed out, Mitch taught him how to master other
men; to be a man.  They fought and wrestled, hiked and relaxed to enjoy the
glory of the rugged mountains.  Every day, they shoveled snow.  Finally way
down in the valley below, they could hear plows working.  `This is our last
night here, boy.  I'm gonna breed you so you never fergit.'  That night the
son was taking his father deep, raising his butt in fiery hot submission
and delight.  Mitch rode him easy and hard, doggy, missionary and carrying
him all over the house, impaled. When Daddy shot, his boy shot, cum
splatted on his gut and face.  Without bein told, every time his Father
ejaculated, the son kneeled to clean and worship.  Life was good for the
both of them.

Mitch had a thought runnin through his mind.  He had Luke stand and ran his
big paws all over him, inspecting like he was considerin buying a horse.
The boy was fine breeding stock; he'd make a good husband for Angela. `I
kin getcha a job on my dad's ranch if yer willing to work.  My big brothers
will see ta that.'  `Will I see you there Father?'  `Yes, boy, but no
`Father,' call me Mitchell, or even 'sir' if you like, but go no
further. Oh, yeah, better tell you my full name, cuz my big brother's razz
me bout it all the time.  Mitchell Tuathal Uinseann O'Rourke.'
`Wow. That's almost as big a mouthful as your cock sir! Bending down, his
face inches from Luke's Mitch growled `Tuathal means ruler of the people,
Uinseann means conquering.  Think they named me right, son?'  `Oh, Daddy!'

Piling Luke's stuff in his truck, down they drove, back to Kalispell where
the boy's plane was waiting to take him back to Massachusetts.  Seeing him
off Mitch thought 'Shiiit, I got me an awful lot o sons.  This boy will be
a good man, an he's a great fuck.'