The Rogue and the Runaway

Copyright© 2014 – Nicholas Hall


Chapter Ten



"The poor dog, in life the firmest friend,

The first to welcome,

foremost to defend."

(George Noel Gordon, Lord Bryon)


The morning sun, bright, illuminating the slough with soft, yet increasing warmth, dispelling the mists developed during the night as the cooling Fall night air settled on the warmer water, gave every pretension of providing us with a delightful early autumn day. Harvest time wasn't far in the future, but today wasn't a day for harvest, it was a day for celebration; the day of our wedding reception hosted by Seth's parents at their home. All of Seth's family and mine, Carl, Debbie, and children and Cook, would be there.

I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself, but Seth settled me down when we awoke by scooting down between my legs and slowly, delicately, and lasciviously suckled my balls into his mouth, rolling them about like two savory, sweet nuggets of candy; lapping them with his tongue and producing a nice, hard cock-stand on my part. Leaving my smaller-than-his-very-large orbs, he traveled north on a journey which ended with my now very hard, throbbing penis fully seated in his mouth where he began bobbing and suctioning me to a point of no return and was rewarded with my warm, milky offering as a pre-breakfast appetizer.

Not quite done with me yet, Seth rolled me over onto my stomach, spread my small, firm melons comprising my butt cheeks, and began tongue-fucking me! Oh my God; what a sensation! Every thrust of his tongue; every twist of that oral probing, tasting instrument; and every slick morsel he deposited sent electric shocks to my manhood, bringing it to full mast once more. With my hole now well lubricated, he mounted me almost like a Quarter Horse mounting a Shetland pony, his stiff, throbbing, thick probe slowly, carefully slipping into my very depths, there to rest before he began his morning ride.

Oh and such a ride it was! He was particularly horny this morning and it wasn't long until he plunged as deep as he could, his pubic bush tickling my ass cheeks, his balls resting on mine when I felt his cock-head swell, his length plump to its fullest, throbbing as it did so, and his ass cheeks flexed! It was at this moment, this particular instant in time, I loved and squealed my delight as he flooded my insides with his copious sperm-laden love juice and bred me royally! There are times it feels as though he is in so deep he loads my stomach as well.

Expended, he remained inside me, wilting not one bit, impaling me while he turned us on our sides so he could enjoy and relax in a post-coital bliss. I knew better than to relax completely, because he still pushed and pulled; albeit more slowly than before, but was readying himself for another bit of joust and joust we did; both cumming again!

"Nice way to wake up," I mused, turning my head so we could kiss. Seth just smiled, nodded, and took me into a lip lock. God, I love this guy!

After a light breakfast, we fired up the ATV and motored our way up the lane and down the road to his parents, now my in-laws, house. I straddled the seat behind him, locking my arms around his mid-section, rested my head on his back as he drove. I shivered with excitement, enjoying every moment of contact I had with him. He evidently was enjoying it as well because when I slipped my hand down to his crotch, he was as hard as a fence post and just about the same size I sometimes thought.

Pulling into their drive, my olfactory nodes caught, wafting on the gentle breezes, the most delicious, mouth-watering multi-faceted odors. The air was permeated with the smell of roasting meat generating a Pavlov response to my salivary glands and a rumbling in my stomach.

"My God, what is that?" I asked, mouth dripping with saliva, my nose sniffing the air like a coon dog sniffing the air for game or a bitch.

Seth smiled replying, "I'll bet Dad got George Hanson to do a whole hog roast for us!"

Joe and Alice (my father-in-law and mother-in-law) walked around from back of the house, waving greetings to us as we dismounted from the ATV. Walking toward them, Seth held my hand affectionately, securely, but somewhat nervously. We stopped and before Alice could step forward to hug me or him, Seth held up his hand stopping her.

"Mom and Dad, I'd like to introduce my spouse; David Andrew Fleming-Burridge; the man I love and will spend the rest of my life with. "

Alice's eyes filled with tears and so did mine! She stepped forward, gave me a big hug and kiss, turned to her son to do the same. Joe extended his hand to me and said, "Davie, welcome to the family; you've made my son a happy man and I can see he's done the same for you."

After that greeting and our beginning at home, the day seemed to evolve into one grand celebration. We walked around back where George Hanson had a whole hog, brown and dripping with flavors and moisture, skewered on a rotisserie spit over charcoal coals glowing red and hot, roasting the meat to perfection. It was quite a sight; I'd not seen a whole hog, head and all, being roasted in such a manner. The smell almost made me want to bite into it while the beast turned ever so slowly, roasting over the fire!

The yard soon filled with my new family of in-laws; Joe Junior and his wife Marie and their five children; Doug and Kim and their three; and Connie and Larry with their seven. The ages of my new nephews and nieces ranged from seventeen to three and consisted of a healthy mixture of boys and girls. There was no way I could remember all of their names, although I'd seen some of them off and on when I visited Joe and Alice or wandered out to the fields when the men were harvesting.

Tables were set up on the lawn for family and friends to use while eating, ice chests began appearing and filled with beverages, and salads, desserts, homemade rolls, and condiments were placed on the tables arranged in the garage ("don't want some damn bird crapping on the food," advised Joe Senior) while Alice was busy supervising the entire operation.

In the midst of all of this, Carl, Debbie, and Cook arrived in not one but two mini-vans. It took two to deliver all eleven of them. I was somewhat concerned Debbie's family might feel they were out of place; you know, black in a white society, but come to find out later, the kids all went to school together and knew each other. So much for my concerns!

The minute the two vans came to a halt, Cook, smiling her broad, warm, welcoming smile, climbed out of the van driven by Debbie and headed for me, her arms wide open! I made a bee-line for those open arms and reveled in the hug she gave me. I returned the embrace knowing she was just as happy to see me as I was to see her.

Carl climbed out of the other van and joined Debbie; followed by all eight of their boys. By then, Seth joined me and at Cook's urging, her grandsons lined up, stepped forward and she introduced us.

"Grandson's," she announced proudly, "this is my Davie, your Uncle David Andrew Fleming-Burridge and your Uncle Seth, his spouse, I think that's what you say." She thought a moment and continued, "No matter; they's married and happy as a couple of ticks on fat dog's back. Now step forward and let them know who you are and let them see how beautiful you be."

I smiled, thinking to myself how lucky those boys are to have her as their grandmother and how fortunate I was to have her around when I was growing up and now, when I'm married.

As each handsome lad stepped forward, he shook my hand and then Seth's, smiled and gave his name and age.

"Carl Junior; JR for short and I'm sixteen, going to be seventeen," announced the first and apparently the oldest.

"Clayton, and I'm fifteen."

"Delmar, but call me Del, and I'm thirteen."

"Jared," and "Jason, and we're twins." There was a brief pause and both said at the same time, "Eleven."

Man, there was no way I could distinguish one from the other! Stepping up next,

"Gerain, and I'm ten."

"Jamal, age nine, Uncle Davie;" suddenly remembering, "and Uncle Seth."

Finally the last, the youngest, all smiles, and wiggly like little boys can be, "Isiah and I'm seven and Grandma says I'm cute." He was too, but all of the boys were handsome young lads.

Seth and I escorted Carl, Debbie, and Cook around, introducing them to Seth's brothers and sister and their spouses and then to Alice and Joe Senior. They were especially pleased to meet Cook and visit with her, so we left her with them for the moment. As we walked away, I overheard Alice say to Cook, "David's such a nice young man and just perfect for Seth."

To which Cook replied, "Well, I raised him as proper as I could and that's pleasin' to hear."

The day was just perfect! Before our meal and after the table blessing, Carl raised a glass and toasted our marriage with wishes for health and happiness and freedom from the cares of the world while we were with each other. Joe Senior, also offered a toast, one which embarrassed me but still made me quite happy.

"To my son Seth and his spouse, David who has brought joy to Seth's home and to ours by his very presence."

The food was fantastic; the roasted pig was just as delicious on the palate as it smelled. Before I knew it, the afternoon was shrinking away from us. I wanted to show Cook and her family where we lived so, I invited them to stop in before they left. It wasn't long after that Joe and Alice had their grandkids and the Hayes boys helping clean up and put things away. After all was done, Seth and I effused our thanks to Alice and Joe and explained to them what we were going to do.

The Hayes' followed us down the lane, as we bounced and jounced about on the ATV, to `Pinicon Ridge. Once there, I don't know who was more impressed, Cook or the boys. They were duly impressed and in awe of the surrounding woods, the slough stretching out in the front, the out buildings containing boats, nets, and other fishing equipment, and the house itself, with its three season porch, and roomy interior. As we toured the house, all Cook could say was, "My, my, you a lucky boy, Davie."

The older boys, JR, Clay, and Del seemed to take a special interest in the place, whispering behind their hands to each other, pointing out one thing or another. Finally, I overheard Clay say to Del, "You ask him, you're younger."

I had a sneaking suspicion what the question might be, but waited patiently for Del to work up the nerve. Hesitantly, he walked up and in a soft voice, asked, "Uncle Davie, my brothers and I sort of wondered if we could come out sometime to visit and maybe hunt or fish or something?"

Carl overheard his son's question and rebuked him gently but firmly, "Del, mind your manners!"

I just laughed and so did Seth. "You bet, any time," Seth replied.

All good things must come to an end and so as the evening descended upon us, we bade the Hayes' and Cook goodbye, but knowing future visiting would be frequent and warmly received on both our parts. In bed, that night, I fell asleep a happy and content man, wrapped in Seth's arms.

During the next month, with Seth's fishing season over and the fall harvest of corn and the remaining soybeans taking his time, it seemed as though we were in a rush all day and bone tired at night. The first time I watched the huge combines, depending on whether it was equipped for soybeans or corn, move down the rows of first soybeans and then corn, plucking beans or corn from stocks, cobs, or pods, threshing the grain held therein and depositing it in the combine's built in bins, the dust, husks, or other plant residue spewing out the back, I was in awe of the power of the machines and the abundance of the harvest! Once the combine was filled, Seth or his Dad would drive the big grain truck alongside the combine while it continued to move down the rows so the contents could be offloaded into the truck through a long, tubular auguring device. The grain was then transported to the very large, metal, circular grain bins for further drying; at least until they reached the right percent of moisture desired for optimal marketing price.

The three oldest Hayes boys did make it out to `Pinicon Ridge a couple of weekends to hunt. They were joined by an equal number of Burridge boys. Seth thought he might have his hands full, but was surprised. The boys were good, safe hunters and enjoyed themselves hunting squirrels and some ducks. Pheasant season began in November, so they hunted those birds as well. It was fun having them around. All the boys were perfect house guests and never hesitated to pitch in and help with dishes or any other chore we had to do.

Shortly after the opening of pheasant season and at the height of corn picking, Seth arrived home, tired, and dirty as usual, about supper time; but this time he was not alone! Walking by his side as he ambled to the house from the shed was a chocolate brown dog tethered to Seth by a six foot leash. It wasn't a particularly big dog, but not a small one either.

Now, I've never been crazy about dogs since the only ones I've been acquainted with up close and personal, were either those little, yippy, yappy, house pets that people "ooh" and "aah" over, dress in funny clothes and say things to them like "mummy's home now" or those big, furry, snarling, barking, ass-biting creatures police departments use for crowd control or guarding people like my father.

No thank you- none for me thank you very much! Perhaps, I hoped, Seth is just dog-sitting this creature for a friend, but by the smile on his face (Seth, not the dog), I doubted it very much. Seth and dog came bounding up the steps and into the kitchen.

"Guess what I brought home?" he exclaimed gleefully.

"A bad case of the clap and I have to get fifty thousand units of penicillin," I responded balefully.

"No, you goof ball! Look," and pointed at the dog.

I thought a moment and finally answered, "I know it's not a cow, a raccoon, or a mink and definitely not a pussy since we both prefer cocks, so I give."

Seth sighed in exasperation, "It's a registered male chocolate Labrador retriever; only a year and a half old and can retrieve, flush game, and will make a great companion."

"Oh isn't that wonderful," I snorted, "married less than three months and already you're seeking companionship."

"No," he groaned commanding the dog, "Gus, sit!" The dog promptly did as commanded and I discovered the creature had a name. Seth leaned forward and kissed me, causing Gus to perk up his ears and cock his head to side as if questioning what was happening.

Unwilling to break contact, I finally had to. "Where, why, and how did we end up in possession of Gus?" Again, at mention of his name, the dog cocked his head again, his yellow eyes looking me over carefully from head to toe, but returning to my face as if expecting me to say something to him.

"He's ours- isn't it great! I've always wanted a Labrador retriever."

Seth was so excited! I took a deep breath of resignation and listened how we became the new owners of Gus. A classmate of Seth's was being transferred to a new job in another location on the West Coast and wouldn't be able to take Gus with him. Gus, AKA registered and obedience trained, had a calm disposition, was a good hunter for his age, and of course, Seth just couldn't refuse the offer to take him.

"He's house broke too," Seth added, "and he'll make a good watch dog if you're here alone."

"That'll be just wonderful," I sighed laconically.

With that, Seth and Gus did a quick exit to "get his stuff" as Seth put it. They returned shortly, Seth's arms, loaded with dog food, a couple of steel doggy dishes, and a rather thick quilted dog bed or resting pad for Gus. The dishes were placed near the door and the dog bed at the hall entrance to the bedrooms and bathroom. Once in place, Seth led Gus on a tour of the house, familiarizing him with his new home. Tour completed, Seth commanded Gus to "go lay down" and Gus did. Once on his bed, he lay with his head on his front legs and paws and watched my every move. Did he watch Seth, his master? No, he watched me, the guy who really didn't want a dog in the first place!

The next day, Seth took Gus with him to the farm, claiming he wanted to hunt a bit after they finished for the day. Where the dog rode while Seth worked, I have no idea. I imagined he rode either in the cab of the truck or the combine. I do know when they returned home that evening, Seth had two nice fat pheasants he'd shot. Of course, Seth just had to relate to me every step through the brush, the flushing of the birds, the shot, and the retrieve. I was so excited it was all I could do but stifle a yawn. As for Gus, he just laid on his bed watching me.

After the ten o'clock news, Seth was still wound up about his hunting trip so I decided to calm him down by kissing him, then nibbling a little on the warm, full, seeping head of his cock before moving down a little to slurp on his nice big balls. After thoroughly giving them the royal treatment, I moved back up and sucked that beautiful big cock of his into my mouth, bobbing up and down slowly, bringing a moan from my lover.

Seth rolled me onto my back, spread my legs, rested his cockhead against my twitching portal, leaned forward, buried himself balls deep, and began to pump. When he came, buckets of cum as usual, he didn't pull out or go soft (well, maybe a little but with a man his size I don't think "a little" would matter much). Still embedded he lay on me, kissing me, letting my own released juices smear all over my stomach and his, before renewing his journey to another and healthy orgasm.

The second time he came, not quite in the volume as the first but enough to overflow the bucket, I decided I needed to get to the bathroom and expel what was inside. Heaven only knew if he'd decide to give it a go again. That was fine with me since I enjoyed it just as much as he did, but I wanted to be prepared. I quickly scrambled out of bed, trotted down the hall to bathroom, bent over to lift the toilet seat so I could drain the swamp, and something cold and wet poked up into my asshole and sniffed!

I shrieked, the cold object pulled away, and Gus barked! All of which damned near scared the shit or in this case, cum, out of me. Seth came running down the hall when hearing my outcry, fearful some tragedy happened to me. Flipping on the light, he saw me standing, eyes wide open, and Gus sitting in front of me, tail wagging.

"Damn you Gus!" I snorted. "You scared the pee-wadding out of me!" I immediately regretted shouting at the dog, since his head came down and he looked so sad. I sat down on the toilet, not only to give me a place to rest, but allow the reservoir to drain.

"What happened?" Seth asked excitedly.

When I explained what happened, Seth laughed and said, "He probably smelled me on you."

"You mean, in me, don't you? That's where his nose was."

Seth laughed and Gus, evidently seeking forgiveness, walked hesitantly forward, lay his head on my bare lap, and rolled his eyes upward, looking so sorrowful I just had to stroke his head and ears and tell him it was okay. As I did so, his tail began to wag and the sad look left his face.

Seth was still laughing when he turned to leave and said, "Come on Gus, get back to bed."

Gus never moved!

"Gus!" Seth said louder.

Gus heard him just fine because his ears twitched and his eyes rolled, but his head didn't leave my lap. I lifted his head and said softly, "Gus, I'm fine, go lay down!" With that, he trotted down the hall to his bed.

We went back to bed and while we were still laughing about my experience in the bathroom, Seth held up his hand and said softly, "Listen."

We could hear Gus rustling around in the other room. The muted noise he was creating came closer until it stopped just outside our bedroom door. We heard him sort of snort, give a groan, and collapse on his bed. In the morning, when we woke, from our bed we could see where Gus had parked his bed just outside our door. When I stirred a little more, Gus came trotting in to my side of the bed and laid his head on it, looking up at me, expecting me to say something to him.

"Guess you got a dog!" Seth commented, rather dejectedly I thought.

I guess I did, even though I didn't want one to begin with.

To be continued:


Thank you for reading Chapter Ten- The Rogue and the Runaway –"Gus"-

"The poor dog, in life the firmest friend,

The first to welcome,

foremost to defend."

(George Noel Gordon, Lord Bryon)


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Nick Hall


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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