Hunter's Lodge 7

Hunter's Lodge

the Osage

Hunter's Lodge on the Osage- Chapter Seven

"How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude, but grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I might whisper, solitude is sweet." –(Cowper)

Lying in bed, held close to Wedge by his lanky arms, our nakedness seemingly natural for us as we rested, I realized, when I woke the next morning, all of my dreams, my hopes, and life was fulfilled in this man, my partner. Noticing I was awake, Wedge leaned over my shoulder, gave me a kiss, and announced,

"I've got to piss," and crawled out of bed over the top of me, his morning wood brushing my stomach as he did so. His lithe figure and firm, perfectly formed rear buns, and broad smile spoke of his beauty and caused my heart to do a little flip. I waited a moment and rose to join him. It was another beautiful morning and we stood on front steps, enjoying the sunrise, the forest noises, and the sounds of our bladders emptying on ground to the sides of the steps.

"I don't think we'll be able to do this come winter," Wedge theorized and I agreed.

When we finished, we wandered back into the kitchen to wash our hands (sans clothing) and Wedge filled the tea kettle for our morning breakfast tea. While it was heating, he mixed up a coffee cake and put it in the oven to bake. How he failed to spill any flour on that ginormous stir stick of his I'll never know!

"While that's baking," he remarked, "we can get dressed and be ready for the day," and walked off to our bedroom. I wasn't certain I wanted to get dressed, but instead stay naked with him all day, but alas; we did have other things to do- drat it!

"I know what you're thinking," he said, with a wink over his shoulder as he entered the bedroom, "but we wouldn't want Uncle and Aunt Lou to come visiting and find us naked as jay birds would we?"

It would've been fine with me, but Wedge was right; I don't think Aunt Lou would've appreciated seeing us writhing on the floor in a mind-blowing, ball draining, cock stimulating sixty-nine!

The coffee cake was excellent and, along with some brown and serve sausage links, black tea with cream, our day began; after we dressed of course! The nonperishable groceries we'd failed to put away the day before were placed on shelves, containers, and cupboards in the kitchen and pantry. After we had the house in fair order, we moved Wedge's things from his room to mine- now ours!

Over the next couple of days we got all of the equipment fueled up and the shed also organized. Wedge left his motorcycle in there along with the ATV. Once the ATV was ready to go, I asked Wedge if he'd ever driven one and found out he hadn't, although he allowed it couldn't be much different than his motorcycle. A few practice trips around the yard and he was ready to go!

"How about we run up to Uncle's and say `hi?'' he asked with a grin.

I climbed on behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and we took off up the lane, over the ridge, through the gate, and down the road toward George and Lou Carlson's farm and house. Cruising along on the gravel road, I just couldn't resist slipping my hands lower until they cupped his crotch and massaged his stiffening man-tool. Arriving at George and Lou's, he sat quietly, squirmed a bit, and muttered, "You just had to get it all stiff, didn't you? If I get off now, my pants will poke out. God that can be so embarrassing!"

I thought it funnier than he did, but we did sit just a moment allowing the rod in his pants to soften. By then, my own erection had faded enough it wasn't noticeable either.

The Carlson's were home and waved us in from the front door. Auntie Lou met us on the porch, smiled, gave me a hug, greeted me "Hello, Little One," and turned her attention to Wedge.

"George," she said over her shoulder, "you didn't tell me how handsome our nephew is," bringing a blush from Wedge as she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. Releasing him, she surprised both of us when she stepped back, remarking, "My, my you've grown since I last saw you here with you grandfather so many years ago."

We had a nice visit. Lou did remember seeing Wedge a couple of times when he came north many years before. "You always came in the summer," she said during the conversation. Wedge gave her a brief version of what he'd told me concerning his visits here when he younger and an abbreviated version why he'd fled north. "George told me most of it," she offered, "I think you'll be safe enough here. Not many people come this far back in the woods; might run into bears, wolves, or hostile natives," giggling at her last remarks.

It wasn't long until we were talking fishing, what we were going to do this summer to prepare for winter, hunting in the fall and winter, and just general bullshit. Wedge launched into a lively conversation with Lou concerning his desire to become a chef and it wasn't long until they were in the kitchen talking recipes and food preservation.

George and I wandered out to the kitchen hoping for a cookie or coffee cake with some tea and were rewarded with cookies. Wedge and Aunt Lou were already at the table enjoying them, so they couldn't very well refuse us, could they? While we enjoyed our snack, I casually mentioned we were going to have to go to town and do our laundry- at least I would until George had a chance to show his "nephew" around the countryside letting the locals become acquainted with him. George nodded, indicating it would be a good idea, but Auntie Lou stood up, went to a stack of newspapers in a box, and began rummaging through them.

Pulling out the local shopper, she scanned the pages, and finding what she was looking for, announced, "Here it is! I thought I saw it in here," and pointed out the ad to me. "It's a relatively new apartment-sized portable washing machine; the two-tub type; no dryer with it however. I heard they're easy to use, but you have to attend to it. Why don't I give them a call-okay?"

Before I could answer, Auntie Lou picked up the phone and gave the number a call. Between her asking questions; "does it work," "why are you selling," and "how much do you want?" We found out the machine was three years old, the owner was moving out of state, and the price was right, as far as Auntie Lou thought, and wham bam thank you man, Wedge and I owned a washing machine and I'd be going to pick it up in the afternoon!

Auntie Lou, once the laundry situation was solved, just had to show off her big garden and Wedge was more than anxious to indulge her. As a city boy, living in an apartment, he and his Mom never had a garden and, therefore, limited experience with one. Although when he visited his grandparents in Racine, they did have a small garden plot in the back yard. They're small garden was nothing in comparison to Lou's big fenced in garden.

"High fence keeps the deer out," she explained pointing to the fence, "and the smaller fence around the bottom keeps out the bunnies. They like my lettuce and green beans. Of course," she continued with a smile, "in the fall and winter, George sort of cleans out the rabbit population and we eat well, too."

Auntie Lou had not only lettuce, but radishes, summer and winter squash, green beans, cucumbers, tomatoes, kohlrabi, turnips, beets, cabbage, potatoes (lots of potatoes), parsnips, rutabagas, and onions. She canned, froze, and stored all the vegetables she could. They had a "cave" or storm cellar next to the house where the cabbage, carrots, turnips, and other root crops were stored during the winter. The storm cellar never froze and stayed a constant temperature.

"Wish we had something like that," Wedge said wistfully.

"Oh, you do!" Auntie Lou spoke up. "There's a nice cave in the rock ridge behind the shed. There's a nice tight door on it. The boys never used it once they discovered it, just framed in a door and that was that."

"There must be something I missed," she pondered. "That's it," she said with a snap of her fingers, "there, along the back fence where the sun hits them nicely – my herb bed. Nothing like fresh herbs or your own dried ones in the winter; beats store bought every time."

Wedge was just about overwhelmed and when Auntie Lou saw the wishful look on his face, she offered, "If you want, I'll have George come down with the tractor and plow a small garden plot for you. I can teach you a few things – if you wish!"

He was thrilled! "Oh Auntie," he replied, "your nephew would really like that!"

She grinned, patted his face and said softly, "I'm so happy you're here with the Little One. You'll be good for each other and it's going to be so fun having boys around again!"

When we left George and Lou's that morning, we had four dozen eggs as well as fresh lettuce, onions, and radishes from Lou's big garden. Wedge was as happy as a pig in shit!

In the afternoon I drove over to Willow Run, paid for and loaded our new washing machine in the back of my pickup truck. I also stopped by a drug store and picked up some personal lube, assisted by a young male pharmacist who helped me find the right lube to "ease penetration and increase satisfaction," according to him. Frankly, I just wanted to be able to grease up the rear portal so Wedge could park that Mack truck of his in my small parking place without damaging either one. The pharmacist must have been a mind reader because he also added a package of Fleet® enemas.

"You might want to use these," he added with a wink and a smile." I must admit I was a bit embarrassed when I paid for the lube and the enemas, but what they hey, if we do it, then let's do it right!

It was late afternoon when I returned to the Lodge and, with Wedge's help, we unloaded the washing machine, moved it into the kitchen, and stored it near the sink, but off in one corner. I was anxious to give it a try, but Wedge suggested we read the directions first. Fortunately, the man I bought it from did put the factory information and directions for operation in the spin tub, so we sat down and read them through- both of us!

The machine, a twin-tub (one for washing and one for spinning) was about thirty inches, by three feet tall and eighteen inches deep and could hold up to ten pounds of laundry in each tub. The washtub agitates to clean the clothes and has two automatic wash cycles; one for normal and one for gentle. It takes very little detergent, according to the book, and the washtub must be filled with water via a hose that attaches quickly to a faucet on a sink (in our case, the kitchen sink) and drains via a drain hose that empties into the sink. Once the wash cycle is complete, the clothes are transferred to the spin tub, a spin cycle is selected, and the discharge hose is placed into the washtub to collect the soapy water as the clothes are spun. Rinse water is added to the spin tub (you can wash another load of clothes while this is going on), a cycle selected, and the rinse water is spun into the sink (after you move the hose), and drains away. It might seem labor intensive and time consuming to some, but it was perfect for us.

With this machine, we could do our clothes in small batches, had no need to rewire or re-plumb the Lodge, or worry about overtaxing our solar electric system. The first items we washed that late afternoon were our underwear and shirts.

"Waste not, want not," proclaimed Wedge and stripped his shirt off, dropped his jeans, wiggled his sweet ass out of his underwear and added them to the wash. Not to be outdone, I copied his actions and did the same. That left us with just our socks on (except for the hard-ons we both sported but that didn't count I suppose as having something "on") as we did our wash. I wanted to ask Wedge if he wanted to stuff his laundry in my machine, but thought that could wait until later.

My bikinis occupied less space in the washing machine than Wedge's boxers, but his manly pole required more covering, or so he thought, but I disagreed, than my smaller prod. He leaned over my shoulder, his naked front pressing against my equally as naked back, as I began filling the washtub with hot water. I could feel his love tool lengthen and swell in girth as it encountered my butt cheeks, rise above them, and finally, his smooth, large, wobbly balls resting on the upper part of my crevice, seemed to stretch and thump about half-way up my back.

He reached around with both hands to my front, cupped my aching man-eggs with one hand, and with the other began a slow, sensual, and very delightful masturbation of my own stiff and twitching cock! I turned my head to give him access to my lips and opened my mouth to receive his probing, wet tongue! God, I loved to kiss that man; his mouth is warm, soft like velvet and his lips nibbled softly, gently on mine, bringing as tingling to my entire body and a increased throbbing to my cock as he manipulated it up and down faster and faster to the point, I raised up on my toes, my balls tightened up against my perineum, and I felt my seed rush up my delivery chute and explode onto the kitchen floor!

I opened my eyes, shut with the intensity of my orgasm, and almost shouted, "Shit, Wedge; the machines about to overflow!" and quickly shut the water off. We definitely needed to attend to business while we were doing the laundry and not get too distracted!

Laughing, Wedge, after slowly milking the remaining cum from my dick, lapped what was stuck to his hand up into his mouth, leaned forward, set the wash cycle on "normal" and turned on the machine. "When these are done, we'll have to hang them up somewhere to dry."

"Where?"

"Not to worry, Little One," he giggled, slipped on his tennis shoes and naked, darted out the door to the shed, his floppy, long tool swinging and swaying from side to side and bouncing up and down. In minutes he returned with a coil of quarter inch nylon rope and strung a length of it across the inside of the porch. He stepped back, surveyed his handiwork, scratched his head, and commented, "Only problem now is, how do we keep them on the line? We have no clothes pins."

"Just drape them on and next time I go to town or up to Auntie Lou's, I'll get some," I offered and so we did just that, draped them on the line.

Laundry done and drying, supper was next. Wedge had it all ready and keeping cold in the fridge. While I was in Willow Run, he'd grilled a couple of chicken breasts we'd kept in the freezer, let them cool, sliced them thin, prepared a nice salad from the lettuce and vegetables Auntie Lou gave us that morning, arranged the chicken breasts on the top of the salads, along with slices of boiled eggs and shredded cheese, and served it with a side of home-made ranch dressing. It was delicious!

Before bed, I used a couple of the Fleet® enemas to really clean myself out and showered, taking particular care to really, really scrub "back there." I so much wanted this to happen and I hoped Wedge did too! I wanted him to breed me and make his own for as long as we both lived! Would he want the same?"

To be continued:

***

Thank you for reading Hunter's Lodge on the Osage- Chapter Seven- ""How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude, but grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I might whisper, solitude is sweet." –(Cowper)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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