Date: Sat, 31 Oct 2020 11:17:28 +0000 (UTC)
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: The Huntsman's Son story

                        THE HUNTSMAN'S SON
                      By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                   WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

     Thomas Carver, naked, muscular and handsome, dawdled lazily in the
small spring pool in the woods near his home.  He had labored hard that
warm day of late summer and the pool's water was cool and delightful.  Few
knew of this spring which was small and the brook that sprang from it
flowed to more accessible human realms.  This spring was all his.  An
artist would have loved to have captured this scene upon his canvass if he
could, the powerful body with thick arms and massive chest and taut, ridged
stomach all covered with a mat of man-fur that was lush but not
overpowering, content to decorate the muscles rather than overwhelm them,
had the hairs been trees, this would not have been the untouched forest but
the more pleasant wooded estates of a rich lord who tended the trees the
way he tended his gardens to make them joyful places for his children and
friends to frolic in unabated.  His head hair was a richly deep brown and
his eyes were similarly brown, like two jewels shining in their settings,
yes, the artist could have painted this and sold the result for many times
his normal asking price.
     Thomas heard something running through the brush nearby and the call
of men searching further away and figured it was some young stag being
pursued and watched for it to appear with no desire to have his own bow and
arrow at the ready had he had it with him then.
     The bushes parted and what came out was neither stag nor boar, but a
young boy, whose clothing was of noble weave and quality, but badly
scratched and ripped and dirtied by the boy's rushed flight.
     "Help me, kind sir, I beg of thee!" the boy begged him.  "These men,
they plan to kill me!"
     Come in the water." Thomas generously said, "And I will shield you
from their view and send them away."
     The boy dived in and soon was cowering behind Thomas' broad back and
shoulders, submerged with only his head above water.  Thomas was standing
and was in water up to above his waist when the men appeared.
     Thomas saw these were not huntsmen, but a part of the Royal Guards,
and they had their weapons readied.  "Have you seen anyone come this way,
good peasant, for we seek the Prince Eric who has fled from our custody."
     "Nay, none have come this way but a stag which raced by and fled in
that direction." Thomas pointed to their left.  "I think he planned to come
into the water, but my presence frightened him off."
     "We've lost him." one of the men growled.  "These woods get far denser
a bit further in, he can't have gone much further."
     "We'll find him." another said.  "Or if we don't, a wolf or a bear
will and save us the trouble of killing him."
     "We couldn't be that lucky." a third growled.  "Well, let us keep
searching, he can't have gone far."
     When they had gone, Thomas turned to the young boy quivering behind
him, tears twinkling in his eyes unshed but incipient, and he said, "Young
Eric, if you are he," (the boy nodded numbly), `strip off your clothes and
hand them to me." he said.  "They are no longer safe for you to wear, for
they reveal to everyone who sees you as noble born."
     The boy did and Thomas and he left the water.  The lad thus seen
without the noble garb was a slender slip of a boy, of an age where the
months meant inches in added height and the muscles stretched themselves
tight to contain the added length, his face was clean of blemish or scar,
and his hair the length only the noble-born could allow to lie upon their
heads unshorn, it hung in its wet state down to his shoulders and more.
The boy's small form sang of joys to be savored and exulted in and Thomas
felt his soul falling into the realm where the animal heart still beats
strongly.
     Shaking his head to clear it, as the boy had noticed this examination,
Thomas gave the boy his own shirt to wear as a sort of long gown (it nearly
submerged him in it rough-woven cloth) down to below his knees.  Thus clad,
the boy resembled instead a young girl and this let Thomas regain his
composure and self-confidence. He put on then his trousers and shoes, and
said, "Now let us leave evidence that the men's desire for a wolf or bear
to slay you for them is what has occurred.
     He fortunately had a clutch of three rabbits fresh-slain from his
snares with his own clothing, and he used their blood to mark the torn
clothes which he tore even further, went a short distance into the woods
away from the spring, and with the bloody clothes set out a reasonable
scene of a child eaten by the wolves which had torn the poor lad to shreds
and dragged off his body parts to be eaten by their pack.
     By the time they made it to his house, it was beginning to be dark and
the boy had clung to him the way a man adrift in a raging ocean clings to
the small length of board that is his only salvation from the water's fury.
He put the boy by the fire which he rekindled from its coals and said, "I
have some meat and bread we can warm for our supper.  Now, lad, tell me why
those King's Guards sought to slay you, the third son of our liege lord."
King Charles had three sons, Crown Prince Edward, Prince Reginald and this
boy, Prince Eric.
     My father, the King, is now dead, and Edward fears that Reginald will
try to usurp the crown. They are at odds, Reginald is gone into hiding and
there only myself left to be a possible threat to him, so he chose to order
the men to do away with me."  The boy's lower lip trembled like he was
about to cry.  "I no longer have a father or a home or a title.  I am lost,
indeed, lost."
     "You are safe enough here for none come to pay visit to me now that my
parents have gone." Thomas said to the shivered child.  "I shall hide you
until we decide what we can do."
     The boy grabbed him again and sobbed gratefully against his chest.
Thomas soothed the boy as best he could, and the tears had stopped and the
face had dried by the time the meat and bread were ready to be eaten.  The
boy ate well, and then looked about the hut.  "Who are you, kind Sir, who
has rescued me in this dark night after a darker day?"
     The boy was poetic in his language, thought Thomas.  "I am Thomas
Carver, a huntsman of the King and his family.  They have little for me to
do until the winter, so I work my small farm and snare small game for my
table.  It is a good life, if a quiet one."
     "You must be lonely." the boy said.
     "I can go to the village if I needs must." Thomas agreed.  "But the
walls of this hut used to ring of a happy family and now there is only me."
     "We are the same, you and I, for I no longer have any family that
wishes me well.  I needs must hide the rest of my life, I think, unless I
can vanish like the fairies that now dance in the twilight woods."
     "Let me think on what to do.  For now, we should rest for I shall need
to rise with the dawn to check my snares for tonight's game."
     The boy pulled off Thomas' shirt and Thomas his trousers and both nude
they got into the bed.  The boy sought to share Thomas' bed instead of
taking the small one he had used until his parents had gone.  That had been
last winter, a bitterly cold one, and his sorrow had mellowed so that he
had begun to adjust his life for a single man, but he knew the child was
still frightened and let the warm young body cling tightly against his own
and soon the lad was sound asleep, his face in the full moonlight that
shone through the window (if one can call a square hole in the wall a
"window") in his repose was angelic and beautiful.
     Thomas for his own part was disturbed by the feel of this young body
against his.  All those times with the girls and their flirtatious ways and
his body had not been stirred, yet this young bare body pressed against his
own bare skin had his body ablaze.  He suppressed it, the boy had more
problems already, no reason to add his own amorous and probably awkward
advances on top of that.  He slumbered and in his dream, he and young Eric
danced in the Elysian Fields of legend.
     He left the boy in the hut with instructions to not leave it and to
hide if anyone came close and not be seen, and traveled to the neighbors
laden with all he dared take from his garden of provender in lieu of money.
He bought thus some boy's clothes from the Widow Martin, whose husband and
two sons had all died the same winter as Thomas' parents, giving her in
exchange some of his produce (for she was in bad straits and nearly
starving), and purchased thus the other things a boy needed from her and
other neighbors.  In all the places he went, he told the tale of how a girl
he had lain with some years before had shown up with her son in tow and
told him it was his boy and he had to care for it now, the boy's name was
Paul and now he was perforce a father.  By the end of the day, the entire
village knew this tale and commiserated with him on his misfortune of
parentage.
     He came back to the hut and dressed young Eric in the clothes and told
him his name was now Paul, he was now a year older than he was, and Thomas
was his newfound father.  He then used his hunting knife and a mixing bowl
to cut the boy's hair all around his head, so that it was shorter than
before, but it no longer gave any hint of the nobleman's style it had held
before.  A peasant's haircut.  Throughout the afternoon, he labored in his
garden and the boy worked alongside him, pitifully eager to please and
needing to learn a peasant's labor if he was to pose as a peasant's son.
     As they worked they talked, and Thomas found the boy's company to be
most congenial and pleasant.  He carefully referred frequently to the boy
as "Paul" until the boy knew it well for his new name and the boy returned
this by calling him "Father."  Thomas went to check his snares and returned
with two hares and a badger.  Badger meat is wholesome if a bit tricky to
dress, but Thomas knew the method and soon he had plenty of meat roasting
on the fire.  The boy ate heartily and now seemed happy with this
situation.  For Thomas, he felt anew his lonely life and would regret when
the boy left him.
     As they ate they told jokes to each other and when "Paul" gave a
tremendously good riposte to his story's situation, Thomas laughed heartily
and stood and picked up the lad and whirled him around as his father had
done him when he had been this young.  And as his father had done in such a
time, Thomas said, "I love you so much, Son!"
     "I love you, too, Daddy." Paul replied to this.
     Thomas realized his breach of conduct but the boy in his arms was
smiling and when the small lips reached for a kiss, he gave it with no
hesitation.
     The kiss started as fatherly, but soon enough it was more, a long,
lingering kiss filled with need for each other, the boy for a protector and
the man for a family, and Thomas panted huskily as he looked at the boy
after the kiss, and the boy simply smiled and nodded and with a small toss
of his head, motioned towards the bed.
     Thomas felt within his body a need that brooked no compunctions or
objections, he gave a soft feral growl as he ferried the boy to the bed and
laid him down on the rough-sewn mattress stuffed with a combination of
straw and bird's feathers, and his fingers moved to strip the boy naked
with a few swift gestures.  He stood and undid his own garments, first the
shoes which were laced up his legs halfway to the calf, then the leggings
which were bunched up under his tunic in lieu of being one solid piece, and
then his tunic, this left him with only a short loin wrap which he pulled
off and released like the legendary kraken his sturdy and pulsing dong
snarling with his desire.  Thomas was more than well-endowed, his cock
stretched out nearly ten inches in length and its girth was substantial as
well.  It was a smooth brown darker than the rest of his body's skin, and
the foreskin had been clipped due to a childhood infection which had left
him with his shaft wearing a velvet-skinned turtleneck up to the flare of
his glans where it made a small roll.
     He stepped toward the bed and the boy reached up and gripped the long
pud and held it as Thomas lay down upon the bed on top of him and to one
side, so that his weighty bulk would not crush the lad.  The boy's hand
jerked his rod and Thomas grunted and panted and he thrust with his hips up
toward the boy.
     He might have done the lad some injury in his bestial need but
Eric/Paul showed that in this his knowledge was greater than Thomas', for
he slid down the bed and soon his lips found the pounding prick and Thomas
moaned in exquisite agony/pleasure as his shaft was milked by the boy's
ardent, velvet-soft, dewy lips.
     "Around, turn around." Thomas grunted out, as his pleasure restored
some humanity to his soul.  "I would please you as you please me."
     "I would be honored." Paul (for now Thomas himself did not think of
this child as "Eric" any more) replied and the skinny frame swiftly swung
itself around, Thomas hauled at the spindly legs to pull the body toward
him and straight out the curve of Paul's back and soon the little tender
prickling was being licked and stroked by Thomas' strong but soft-skinned
lips and tongue.
     For a short time there was nothing but the liquid sounds of their
mutual mouths milking the massive man-tool and boy-toy, and the grunts of
the man and moans of the boy as they wrenched their pleasures from each
other.
     Thomas felt his oncoming orgasm like the pounding of thunder in his
temples and a blazing of lightning behind his eyes.  He groaned and grunted
hard, his brain telling him that if the boy kept this up he would blast the
child's mouth full of his man's nectar, and the boy deserved the warning so
he could pull away, away.  "Mmmh, mmmh, mmmh, MMMH, MMH,
MH-HUH-HUH-HUH-HHHHUHHHHH!"
     He moaned the louder as he felt the climbing climax rising in his
until it was a raging flood of passion that could not be further contained,
he released a single further gut-wringing groan of his need and the boy
still did not let go and Thomas let loose the explosion and the seed rushed
from his body like the lock of a small stream opened to send its water into
the fields to let the plants drink.  "GGGGHHH-HUHHHHHHNNNNNN!"
     Though the man's spooge rushed out lushly and strong, the boy held
onto his clutch on Thomas' prick and gulped at the onrushing bounty
lustily, Thomas felt the boy's mouth urging his dong on to more, more, give
him more and he obliged until the very dregs of his testicles had been
drained utterly dry.
     In all this, he heard the boy also moaning and the small body had
wormed around in his grip, but he had held it tightly in place and the
little piddle pulsed and twitched and Thomas tasted on his tongue a small
issue of childish nectar that bore no seed but held within it the promise
that one day it would bear such proudly to its destination.
     Panting hard, he parted from the boy to lie upon his back, and the boy
did as well for a pace, but then he moved, crawled around and back to slide
himself under the man's warm, hairy armpit and Thomas let the boy make
himself at home there.  Their lips sought each other and the kiss was both
sincere and sleepy and Thomas blearily pulled the covers over them both and
soon both were sleeping the sleep of those who have labored hard and loved
well, and the body is satisfied to call the day done and send its muscles
into the relaxation of slumber.
     For a score of days or more, the tenor of their life had been set in
that day, they arose and dressed, ate their meal to break the night's fast,
then went together into the fields to work, for the crops were beginning to
bear their bounty of edible delights and all had to be harvested and stored
or prepared for the long cold winter to come.  The rabbits and squirrels
and other small animals fell ready prey to his snares and they ate and the
days passed in well-rewarded labor and their nights were spent in enjoying
again the feel of each other's mouths upon their man's sword and boy's
small blade, until Thomas could no longer imagine life without this boy.
     But the harvest festival came and Thomas could sell what of his crop
he wanted of that time and Paul wanted to come with him.  Thomas was
reluctant for he knew that among the villagers may be one who had seen and
knew the boy for who he was.  But who can resist the pleas of the child who
knows you to your very soul, and Thomas agreed at last.
     They loaded up his cart with their provender and Thomas himself stood
in for the beast of burden to pull this cart, the boy sitting on the seat
and calling out guidance to the man so he could concentrate on his struggle
and not the path they had to take.
     He was nervous but Paul meshed well with the other children and played
with vigor and good humor, reveling in the other's win and accepting his
own losses with laughter at his failings.  He had charmed the women of the
village who uniformly praised his good looks and easy demeanor.  They
returned late that night (Thomas pulling the cart again but empty of all
but a few special goodies for their own larder, it made an easy tow).  Paul
ran alongside him or ahead lighting his path with the lantern.
     Home, Paul pulled out a small clay jug from his travel pouch and said,
"I carried Goodwoman Smith's bags for her and she gave me this in payment."
     "What is it?"
     "Goose grease." Paul explained.  "Very good aid to let a virginal
bride take her rather ample new husband's tool within her."
     "Why would you want that?" Thomas asked then understood and blushed.
"I would not ask that of you."
     "But I would and do ask it of you." Paul replied.  "Be with me fully,
and I shall feel that we truly are a father and son, for you shall become a
part of me and I of you in that coupling."
     How could Thomas say no to that, when his entire soul screamed aye!
"Very well."
     Even with the goose grease, it was time consuming.  The night was
nearly half done and the candle burned to nearly its end when Thomas at
last had the lad's lower sphincter relaxed enough to accommodate his more
than normal-sized dong.  Thomas had four inches of his length in the boy
and the boy gasped and said, "I shall be able to take more later but for
now, let us enjoy each other and let this be it for the night."
     "I agree." Thomas said huskily as his passion had been scratching at
the front door of his life begging to be allowed inside so it could
dominate everything it saw. He moved in small ways, just enough to move his
cock inside the boy's bowels, and Paul moaned and loved the feel of his
father's shaft filling him so.  Thomas felt the way part and took
possession of another inch of his child's intestines and began to move
faster.  The full harvest moon shone in their window as it had that first
night together, lighting their joy with its beneficent pale white glow.
     Paul clung to him and cried out in his joy as the cock slowly slid
deeper and deeper into him.  "Oh, oh, my father and my life, my joy and my
inspiration, take me further, take all of me, take it!"
     "Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, Son, I've got, to, come, soon." Thomas panted.  "I,
love, you, as, I, have, never, loved, another, before, and, I, accept,
your, gift, in, gratitude!"
     "Oh, oh, oh, oh!" the boy convulsed in his climax, the boy shook so
hard that his bowels relaxed and Thomas' cock slid into the very base, its
entire length within the boy, and he shuddered, groaned, and climaxed,
spraying his hot load deep, deep within the boy's bowels.  He shook as much
as Paul did, and when he was done, he lay down with the boy still impaled
upon his cock, the entire length of it still within him.  The two of them
slept like that and the next morning, Thomas found his cock, now flaccid,
still fully buried within the child, his glans holding fast to the depths
of the boy's bowels.
     He tugged gently at this and the boy opened his eyes and smiled.  "You
are still within me." he sighed.
     "I am still within you." Thomas agreed.
     "And you will always be within me."
     "Always and forever." Thomas agreed.
     His cock, which had rested during the night, reinflated and again they
made love in the early morning light.
     It was near noon before they arose, and the two dressed in silent
accord and gentle smiles at each other.
     A sound of horses' hooves resounded and alerted them, and Thomas went
out to greet the visitors with trepidation for such visits were never
welcomed until the first fall of winter snow.
     "We seek Thomas the Huntsman."
     "I am he." Thomas replied.
     "We are told you have a child with you.  We would see this child, for
we were told that it was the missing Prince Eric."
     "You are mistaken, for he is my son, Paul Carver."
     "We would look at him." the third rider asked, who wore a garb unlike
the others.  "I know the young Prince well, and must see for myself."
     Swallowing hard, knowing he had no choice, Thomas called, "Paul, Son,
you must come out, the King's men wish to see you."
     Paul came out and he wore peasant garb and a peasant haircut and his
hands were calloused from the endless labor in the gardens.  "I am here."
he said.  "How may I serve the King?"
     The man looked at him carefully and said, "I see.  The rumor we heard
was false, this is not the Prince.  He must have perished in the woods by
wolves as we were told."
     The men then turned their horses and rode away.
     "He didn't recognize you." Thomas said, his heart sinking back from
his throat where it had been all the time the men had been there.
     "He recognized me." Paul said.  "He has known me since birth, and he
recognized me."
     Thomas was quiet and then said, "I see."
     "There is nothing to see." Paul said.  "I am Paul Carver, the son of
Thomas, and my father is the King's Huntsman.  That is all I am, and that
is what he saw as well. And your son is all I wish to ever be."
     "It is my wish as well."
     "We must see to the bean crop." Paul said.  "I think the pods are ripe
enough for picking now."
     "Let us begin." Thomas agreed.  Together, he and his son walked out
into their fields.  He had to harvest all his crop before the first
snowfall, when the King would again call him to the castle to lead them on
hunts once more.


[This story is a sample from my new book "Born to Be A Time Cop" available
for sale only at my website, the URL is below.  The stories in my book
contain illustrations as well.]

                             THE END
               Comments, complaints or suggestions?
             E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                   WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM