Flapjack
Lulled by the sonorous pre-dawn sounds wafting through the open bay windows over the big bed, I drowsed half-in and half-out of sleep. What a wonderful place to exist, I reckoned. Particularly by the knowledge that the trajecting flashback was reminiscent of our trip into the big city the previous weekend. The memories of steamily sultry events witnessed and experienced at the ‘cocksucker palace’ would hopefully be recurring…
My resultant early morning wood throbbed under the weight of Cal’s slumbering leg as it draped across my groin. His arm bended over my chest, his face softly nuzzled my neck. Amazingly neutral morning breath sighed from him while he dozed possessively over my butt-nakedness.
A very endearing house rule, I loved the fact that he had lobbied hard for the pact stipulating no clothing in bed on the inaugural night of our relationship. He was a semi-nudist as it was, preferring only saggy boxers when home, never anything tighter. Frontal opening usually gaping, he preferred the freedom of air-cooled skin whenever possible. Big, wide bare feet were a given.
As it was, considering the silky smoothness of his superbly toned body, such a predilection was to my benefit. Boasting less than four percent body fat, the sight of him never went unappreciated. My mind’s eye now contentedly pictured us tangled in skewed bedsheets as if I were peering down from a perch at the ceiling corner. What a lucky man I was.
Gradually rousing myself without any body movement other than some isotonic tensing and releasing, Cal faintly responded to it by a soft, purring change to the rhythm of his breathing. Coming up from the deepness that was his sleep mode, he licked his lips and “shooshed” a breath at my neck in exhalation. I heard his twinkle through the tease, “You my sexy baby, dude-boi?” I managed a contented, “Hmmmmmm”, from behind a closed-eye half smile.
In another few moments, “Baby, you gettin’ me goin’, now. You keep up that slo-mo pulsin’ down there and you gone’ make me cum, you know that, right...? I’m ‘bout ready to climb up into that, bay-bee,” he whispered in my ear. I loved when he reverted to the local patois of northern Georgia, in lieu of his normally articulate manner. It made my dick harder...but wait... slo-mo pulsin’…?
My hands were presently raised up over my head. We both stiffened together at the sudden discernment of an unbidden presence sharing proximity. Sleepily benumbed tactile sensors abruptly alerted to the nappy texture roosting in nether regions. Sitting bolt upright, Cal exclaimed, “Small Boy---Dawg!” he reached down to the narrow space between us, awakening the slumbering nephew who had evidently snuck into the bed sometime earlier and now lay in the thick of our entwined legs.
The youngster worshiped Cal and since his uncle’s return home, had latched tightly on to him. The absoluteness of his innocence, while disarmingly endearing, could be unnerving at times. The boy was wont to seek to cuddle with his superhero uncle… I was surely included only by default.
Cal, while deeply attached to his sister’s boy, drew the line at the sanctity of our bedroom. Especially upon awakening to his endowment rasping against the slumberous, bristle-headed youth as it was now… “You little bugger, whatchyoubedoindownintherepissant?”
The little nephew popped up, surprised at the vehemence, and leapt out of the tiny gap where he had wedged between our bodies. Skittering to the floor, the rascal raced out the cracked door, slamming it on his escape. A winsome giggle faded around the corner as he went...
“Damn,” Cal hissed, “that little mess is gonna get on my last nerve. Damn it! That’s the third time, the little mole.” He reclined back to the mattress, drawing me down with him amidst some more overly-earnest cluckings.
A few extra, forced hrrrumphs later, the swollen heat of my man’s dripping curve inched up my hip and rubbed hornily on me. It never took anything more than a brushing touch from any part of this man’s body to raise my fervor. The desire for a slow-ride before breakfast came unnervingly easy. My buoyant cock bounced expectantly as I stretched out my enjoyment, feeling my tubular underdick whisp rhythmically off the smoothly dark hard belly next to it. I nibbled the earlobe and blew lightly for effect. He shivered his notice, enwrapping my lips with his own.
It almost bothered me, this hold he had over me, but I smothered the feeling as I pushed his leg over and crawled up on to his flat lap, intensifying the stud’s already boinging tumescent state. His foreskin rolled sensually back from the phattened head. He froze as I lifted up to get the ten-inch pre-cumming monster-of-my-eye targeted to its preferred location.
Cal peered around my waist to assure Boy’s absence, then groaned as I descended over the one-eyed 10′s ’til our white-on-black melded. Squeezing the cheeks strongly and deliberately--it made him nuts-- I began a slow canter motion, all the way up, then down, in hopes of inducing long, rolling spurts.
His large and manly hands cupped my rounded globes in a pretension of control but his rolled-up eyes told a different story. I had this man... It only took a few dozen full, slow, deep strokes before I was rewarded by the hot, goopy, sliminess of release. He rumbled at me, “puleeeze don’t stop that honey, puleeeze don’t...”
Fat chance of that. I kept up the motion, right through his vulnerable after-cum spasms while he winked one squinted eye open to see my own eruption. He knew perfectly well the effect his implanted, spewing dick had on my prostate. The rotations roiled my sensations to climax, adding to our mutual satisfaction. He reached the big-boned fingers of his hand to my mushroom head and swirled the goo marking me as totally dick-whipped. Just as he intended.
We fit. And, we knew it.
Boy pogo’d up and down by the stove, impatiently demanding pancakes from his aunt’s griddle. Holding a plate in one hand and fork in the other, ninja-turtle do-rag flapping hilariously, he was impossible to avoid laughing at as Cal and I exited our upstairs bedroom, descending after a buddy-shower wake up following the morning fuck.
The Boy’s loose white boxers, in mimicry of his idolized uncle, provided the ball-of-energy’s only other covering. The little man took satisfactory note of Cal and his like outfits as we sniggered through his antics. Cal’s own sagging, over-sized boxers mostly hid his recently sated snake behind only a minimally gapped opening due to its sleep mode, now. God, what a hunk I had married.
Attempting nonchalance was not yet a tactic mastered by the lovable tadpole and Sophie smiled at the seven-year-old’s transparency, instructing the boisterous boy to hold his plate for delivery of the blueberry-stuffed flapjacks.
Even at the early hour of 7 AM, Cal’s younger sister looked ravishing. Her short-cropped black hair, blood red-tipped and spiked, accentuated the two-piece red and black spiraled spandex body suit. Her ab fab abs and body smoothly filled the outfit and her make-up free beauty rendered regular mistakenness for Halle. The lithe young seductress was completely at ease in her skin and amongst her six brothers. My acceptance into her sphere had pleased me no end. She and I communicated.
She was well aware of the effect she had on people. Those negatively affected were most commonly treated to a vamp-like act for the shock value. In our presence, she exuded a motherly affection honed to an art ever since the loss of the family’s matriarch several years before.
Cassandra Broadhearst had doted on her husband, Calumet Senior. When he had succumbed to a horrific head-on collision with a drunk driver years ago, the aristocratic woman had faded in desolation without her soulmate. Bodily wasting diminished her to only a wisp of her former self and the lady passed in her sleep, leaving an indisputable legacy of elegance rarely seen outside European aristocracy.
Boy concentrated on getting to the breakfast table without spillage and succeeded in joining Vivian, his little sister. The mini-him version of unassuming liveliness now patiently awaited pancakes like the small lady she could occasionally pull off.
Mostly, she worked at keeping up with her older brother. The two shared a natural curiosity and frenetic pace typical for Blackhearst children. Soph glanced at Cal and me as we took notice of her mannered patience and explained, “Viv just let me know she is expecting ‘an incident’ any minute...she wants to be ready.” Perplexed, we wordlessly asked ‘what was up’ by our faces and she added, “I have no idea--she just does this sometimes, you already know. I am sure we’ll find out-- she sees everything. So, just watch out, boys. Come get your cakes.”
Cal’s butt pinch let me know of his ’done-already-got-‘dem-cakes’ double entendre. I smirked a wordless reply.
Cheek pecking my sis-in-law as I took the offered plate, I scooped up a glass of orange juice. Having heard and seen Cal and my interaction, she playfully poked me in the ribs. ‘You gettin’ pretty used to the mood around here, aren’t you, boii?” She teased more, pointing out my own, Cal’s and Boy’s matching boxers, “Only took a month... welcome home, little big bro.”
Cal grinned and quipped, “Come on Sis, you know I’m keeping him barefoot and PG, and I don’t want a lot of crap in my way when I’m ready, right?” as he bit into his honey-slathered breakfast jacks.
“Well, big Daddy, you sho’ didn’t seem to have any o’ that problem an hour ago, now, did you?” She tilted her head in the direction of my tush as she waited. My expected face, neck and chest flush was a source of delight to the family and it surfaced right on cue. Soph loved doing this. In my status as the token white member of the family, the weakness was regularly provoked.
The Blackhearst siblings were all close, and each exhibited elevated sex drives. The tendencies were recognized and accepted quite matter-of-factly. They all had been brought up understanding the healthy benefits of a full sex life. I, on the other hand, had been raised in a puritanical household. Sex existed only in a world of sinful wickedness. The adage, ‘to Hell in a handbasket’ had to have been derived in my childhood home, I felt sure.
Procreation was the only use my folks and siblings had for the frowned-upon pastime. Those totally debasing moments when I had been caught in the act of jacking off during an extremely awkward adolescence indelibly scarred my psyche. Expressions of mystified disbelief at my continuing 20-20 vision persisted amongst my family. God must surely have a supremely stiff alternate penance in store for me, I had been warned. Hence, the obdurate flush reaction at mention of the subject.
Cal’s family had collectively entered me into ‘active rehab’ as a counter measure for defraying the psycho-babble holding me hostage from that upbringing. I was gradually responding. But the blushing thing remained a source of high hilarity, all the way down to the five-year-old Vivian. While obviously never talking of sex (well, not intentionally), even the little girl practiced multiple methods of sparking my discomposure. Darn it.
Just then, a bang and a crash mixed into a rush of masterfully phrased profanities erupted down the long hallway from the other brothers’ wing of rooms. Vivian straightened up and put her fork down, hands in her lap. “Here it comes,” was all she said, and we all watched the hall doorway. Within a few seconds, Doy’s bedroom door screeched open. Running footfalls sounded in the hall and we all gaped as a very naked and aroused unknown Hispanic youth erupted into view. He was highly agitated and in a hurry.
Doy came barging down the hall after him, heated words heralding his appearance. This Broadhearst brother was a volatile personality and easily riled. Right now, he was hot. And naked. And, boy was his dick handsome when he was pissed off...I hadn’t noted how much until this moment. It was dribbling spunk as it preceded the rest of the brother’s body through the doorway, making for a startling focal point to our breakfasting group.
The typical overhung male family jewels waggled from side-to-side, suspended in mid-air and raising hell. The rest of Doy followed the dong around the corner and we saw that his face matched his wiener... Swelled up, pissed-off and blustering. The girls just lowered their heads but us boys were looking. Cussing and waving, Doy pin-pointed the skittering chasee, “You fuckin’ asshole thievin’ bitch! Get the fuck out my house! Steal my shit and I’ma tear that ass up--- get the fuck out!” he insisted. The olive-skinned young man twirled in anguish, sputtering ill-attempts at apologies. All were very flatly rejected by the erect Doy. He spewed expletives and saliva non-stop as we observed, enthralled.
The smaller visitor abruptly snapped to the realization he was on display in front of us all, kids included. Blooming to deep shades of purple--- a fact that warmed my white boy heart--- by the humiliation, the young man attempted covering the teeny-tiny up-pointing sprig of a fully hard dick. He even managed to eke out a stilted request for his clothes.
Doy was having none of it. Grasping the short stalk, he manhandled the object of his anger across the room. Opening the glass storm door, the wincing trick was yanked through it, cock first. The see-through covering allowed our visual as the boy hesitantly contemplated the wide open space, clearly not comfortable in his outdoor state of nudity. The slamming door slapped the naked little butt down the steps, a high shriek punctuating the contact. After one last mortified glance back, he disappeared from sight around the corner.
Doy turned on us, dick still fully erect, flopping madly, low-hangers bobbling. I suddenly felt like a character in the 1920’s anti-drug propaganda flick named, ‘Reefer Madness’. “What? What the fuck ya’ll starin’ at? The little prick thief tried to lift my wallet right when I was pokin’ him, goddammit! Had my iPad and iPhone already packed up and hid, too. I knew I shouldn’t trust the bitch-- anyone with a two-inch dick is always a thief. I always tol’ ya’ll that! Shit, I’m just glad I didn’t give the ho’ but two loads or he woulda’ prob’ly got the damn TV, too.” Suddenly remembering, he turned back and yanked open the door, “Where’d you hide my damn phone, wench?” But the boy seemed to be gone already.
All this had unfolded while Doy’s pretty piece carried on dripping an obviously interrupted load-dumping moment. We couldn’t tell which was pissing him off more-- the thievery or the messed-up climax. His thick nine-inch piece continued haranguing us by its wagging, upward arch, and the cum-laden ‘cussing’ it was still spewing proved demonstrative.
Cal and I couldn’t stop pivoting between both erupting heads, trying to keep up. Sophie rolled her eyes, then reached over and handed her brother a dish towel. Viv just shook her pretty little head sagely at Boy and opined, “I know, I know.”
Doy, still pissed, disappeared down the hall and into the bedroom. Emerging again a minute later, hands filled with the trick’s clothes and shoes, he strode barefoot to the door. Exiting, his pretty little bare ass bounced cutely behind him as he hollered for Aloysius, the family’s Nubian goat.
We tried to finish our fast-cooling pancakes and make sense of the situation in the post-tirade calm but found the brouhaha too funny to ignore. All but Boy and Viv lost our appetites. Typical kids, they went right on enjoying breakfast, quickly dismissive of the imbroglio. The three of us were more entertained over the happenings and I was particularly vocal about the mini-dicked boy’s blushing episode. Cal and Soph allowed that his was far worse than anything I had exhibited. I was satisfied.
My man finally had enough and left for his study to do some work while Sophie and I cleaned up. Little Viv thoughtfully worked on her iPhone and Boy wandered outside to follow the happenings there.
A half hour later, Soph was on her way out the door to several of her day’s errands, still amused at the incident. Viv hadn’t looked up once from her phone, completely absorbed, so I thought to check if the goat friend of mine was still alive.
Nobody replied as I descended the back porch steps calling, so I headed over to the neighbor’s yard where the social goat commonly slunk off to for “talks” with the Missus Brown. The two had an understanding of some sort. I had overheard some engrossing goat-on-woman dialogue more than once.
The goat was tied to a tree on the side of the house, pawing at the little trick’s clothes as he dug asparagus stalks from the pockets and inside the wrapped clothes where more had been stuffed. In digging out the delicacy, of course, the clothes had been very thoroughly pawed and gnawed to shreds. Clever, I thought, but why hadn’t Farmer Brown had a fit over this, per usual?
Next, sticking my head around the front corner of the old farmhouse, I noted the absence of the Missus’ car, answering another of my questions. Stepping between the hedge and the side of the house heading back to the goat’s picnic site, I heard a muffled sound from the open window and drew closer to see inside.
There, lazing back in an easy chair, spread-legged, head lolled all the way back, arms on the armrests, was a still naked Doy. Moaning to the tempo of an ongoing blow job being expertly administered by a busy Farmer Brown. Ha, I thought. You Go, old boy. The man was assiduously bent over Doy’s full dick, slow-sucking the thing, oblivious to anything but that good hard-on. Can’t blame the old guy for that, I thought. Doy sure had no problem with it, by the look of things.
Interested, I stuck around to voyeur a bit. Another surprise, I reflected. These country folk sure were innovative. And uninhibited. At least the menfolk were proving to be. The older man knew his way around a dick, to be sure. He worked the thing for several minutes before Doy finally warned the old gent to get off it. They and I watched as that dick popped off several good arcs of cum while Doy gripped the chair. I quietly backed off, returning to our house. Things that make you go, “Hmmmm.” As my best bud, Luke, and I always say…
When I entered, there was Vivian, now busily punching buttons. She looked up as I opened the door and waved me excitedly over.
“Viv, I didn’t even know you had a phone. When did you get that?” The thought had struck me a bit earlier after leaving to look for the goat.
She grinned at me conspiratorially and pointed at the screen, “Uncle Jake, this is Uncle Doy’s spare. I took it out of that man’s pocket when I saw him put it there and I hooked up the iPad to skype-- look what came up.”
I was amazed as I came over and viewed Doy’s shadowy bedroom the hour before breakfast. The five-year-old tech wizard had ably set the scene. As I watched, Doy and the kid awakened from the night, some inaudible pillow talk going on. The boy went into the bathroom first, then Doy did so afterward.
The little trick proved mighty curious while alone, poking through various drawers and pockets. He had just snagged Doy’s pants as the younger brother opened the bathroom door, re-entering to his desired pursuit of hitting the sweet butt noticeably distracting him. Doy missed the trick’s cleverly strategic drop of the pants close to where he positioned his head for the upcoming reaming.
Doy got lined up behind and slightly out of the picture frame. The proceeding action was heard but not seen and the next minutes showed no hard core porn shots--- thank goodness--- due to the angle. The backdoor work Doy was doing was quite audible and at the nine-minute mark, I watched as the boy reached out for Doy’s discarded pants.
He skillfully shielded the act of removing the wallet, just the way Doy had accused. As he put it into his own shorts pocket, Doy apparently opened his sex-blinded eyes and caught on. All hell broke loose as Doy knocked the kid from the bed. The youth crashed to the floor.
We all knew what had followed.
Wow. No wonder little Viv had predicted the future. She had watched the whole set up by the skype connection. I could never have thought of it, let alone carried it out. The ‘when’ and ‘why’ of the matter didn’t occur to me...
A little later, with Viv moved on to the next plan for her five-year-old agenda, Doy swept in the back door looking much relieved and much quieter. Still completely nude. Happy to find his missing iPhone on the bar, he settled at the kitchen table, half-hard dick lolling to the side on his thigh, uncaring for his exposed state. He told of his packing of the little thief’s clothes and shoes with the asparagus. Aloysius had thoroughly enjoyed the filling treat, he informed me.
Unable to help myself, I had to ask how he had convinced the old farmer to part with his precious crop. Doy smugly replied, “we bartered for it.” At ease in his nudeness as he was, I should have anticipated the openness. Seeing my expression, he replied to the unasked question, “Hell, Jake, that old dude? That wasn’t no deal. He gots those blue pills he takes and I lets him suck my dick sometimes. I traded him on the greens--- it was all good. He was wankin’ that big ole’ man dick off when I left, like he likes to do, so...” He winked, stood up, wagged his happy dick at me, slapped playfully at my crotch and disappeared for a shower. With his phone...
Cal wasn’t going to be interrupted, even brushing off the shoulder massage I used to tempt him a little later into conversing. Mumbling about deadlines and such, I retreated back to the kitchen. Viv was in her room singing along with some Nickelodeon kid’s show and her usual companion, Boy, wasn’t anywhere to be seen. It struck me that I hadn’t seen him since leaving out the backdoor after breakfast. I better find the rascal or he’ll have gotten into something no good, I figured. I was, after all, the responsible adult for now.
Perusing the backyard surround and the barn, as well as Aloysius’ picnic site, and still not finding the boy, I untied the goat and was about to search the front yard when I thought to peek in on the farmer’s blue-pill morning progress. Doy had left him jacking earlier and I was still curious. As I peered in the window where Doy had previously enjoyed the ‘mature’ blowjob, I was disturbed, but not surprised, to find Boy standing in the doorway just out of view of the old farmer who was busy watching what sounded to be a skin flick by the musical accompaniment. Brown didn’t seem aware of the fact in the slightest, spellbound in his stroking...
Well, that ain’t happenin’, I said to myself. Scurrying around to the old farmhouse’s backdoor, I let myself in, came around the corner to the hallway where Boy was and lightly smacked his little ass. He jumped a foot into the air. One ‘busted’ shriek later, he was off and gone out the door. Knowing that didn’t go unheard, I sucked it up and cleared the next corner into the bedroom.
“What is up, Mr. Brown?” I said as I cleared the doorway. The old gent didn’t bother withdrawing his hand, instead scoffing my way. Continuing to raise and lower the happy hand gripping the nice sized pill-fueled piece. The farmer was clearly pleased with himself at the state of his arousal.
“So, the pretty white boy with the big whonker decided to see how a real man works it, huh, docboy? Well, set yurself right down there and get a eyeball full. This big ole dick won’t be a’leavin’ much room fo’ anythin’ else in yo’ head once ya’ get to lookin’, boy,” he gloated.
I snickered at the hubris, inwardly setting aside the secret hope that when I reached his point in life’s tenure, I had the hutzpah to exhibit similar bravado. At the same time, I was curious enough at the scenario that I didn’t immediately excuse myself and back out. Remembering a bit earlier, while voyeuring Doy and the farmer’s session from the window vantage, my piece had actually responded.
Feeling then that the response had been more due to the recipient’s involvement, hunk that my brother-in-law was, I was a little taken aback now as I felt mini-me warming a mite to the older gent showing off before me. Tentatively, I edged a few steps forward into the den, hearing the cheesy background music accompanying the man’s old-fashioned video sex flick.
“So, the pink boy pro man likes to watch, don’t he, now?” Farmer Brown stated matter-of-factly, furthering both my chagrin and my dithering. I wasn’t certain at all that I was where I should be, but the present plot here was sublimely motivating… the old guy motioned with his free hand and I hesitantly shuffled closer.
Now, just slightly out of arm’s reach, the old cuss crudely slurped a nasty smacking sound and leaned forward, taking the initiative. I stayed where I was. His fingers wrapped around my lengthening piece and he glanced up, “I been thinkin’’ ta taste me some paleface dick, now, ever since you been showin’ it off that mornin’ last week. Let’s try that thing out, boy,” and with that, he leaned even closer and abruptly sucked the head of my piece into his Doy-approved mouth.
What the hell, I thought? If anything, maybe I’ll help out the old codger and sometime down the line remember the act in reverse, should I reach that side of the equation… it was going to happen, some day.
So, I acquiesced, and moved into the sucking orifice, letting my dick swell inside the toothless mouth. It was warm. The pleasure, surprisingly, grew my hard-on in a minute. The old mouth did, indeed, know its way around a dick. I thought the thought for the second time in one morning. As it occurred to me, I flashed on his comment the past week when he had cryptically mentioned ‘that episode’ involving my Cal from back in his high school days… now my curiosity was peaked more so.
Before I could contemplate further, however, a set of fingers squeezed an exposed white butt cheek backing the scene below me. I started at the touch, my hand grabbing back at it. A glance over my shoulder revealed one very aroused bro-in-law, Doy, standing within close adjacency. His re-invigorated cock stared, one-eyed, at the unsqueezed twin cheek.
A leering grin let me know my bro-in-law was still on the prowl, probably still seeking satiation after the thievery entanglement’s earlier frustrated climax. After all, I knew, these Broadhearst brothers were endlessly edgy…multiple orgasmic events were common among them.
“Give it on up, Jake, and enjoy it—Brown be a veteran, and I be knowin’ you already done been seeing him in action. Seen ya’ watchin’ a while ago… didn’t think I did, huh?” He put it in head-on perspective. Those squeezing fingers checked out the produce like a matron at a fruit stand, kneading and testing my firmness, searching the dimples and dents.
I couldn’t deny my enjoyment of the dual action going down, now, and succumbed to the unfolding set like the slut that I was… why deny the facts? I let the hand round down and inward to the crack between my cheeks, trying to stay upright for the continuing good mouth work, but at the same time, liking the big, venturing fingers.
Turned out, I needn’t have split my attention, as the big fat black dick on proud parade sidled right on up to me, whippling back and forth across my anatomy, letting me know of its intent by the doing. This was getting interesting, I decided, and turned my neck more, so Doy’s approaching lips could better access my own.
Seeing our lip-lockage, the farmer’s mouth uttered a garbled comment between strokings that approximated his enjoyment at the sandwiching effect. My thoughts exactly, I silently concurred. I accepted the long tongue into my mouth, sucking it in and reaching my own hand around to explore the tantalizing torso attached to the dick rubbing my backside.
I had to halt the oral progress by palming Brown’s head as the ministrations were too good. Though it didn’t release me. The mouth only sat still. I luxuriated in the heat and scaled down from an eruption. Doy, the formerly derisive brother-in-law at the outset of our summer here in Georgia had come around admirably since we had shared the CSP experience in Atlanta. The stud now waxed on about that scenario in between face-sucking.
You the BITCH, now, ain’t ya’, Jake?” he began, “Done satisfied the jumbo dick that night at the club, now, didn’t ya, cunt-boy? Ain’t been nobody able to satisfy that whopper like you done…Everyone got to see how you take big black dicks in that place and no one do it better than a white boy in a black house, for sure.
You took at least three damn loads from that giant, and that’s just the one’s I heard an’ saw, ain’t they, Jake? You been practicin’ on all this Georgia dick since you been here, huh? And Cal happy to be a’sharin’, by what I’m seein’. I ain’t lost no big bro, now, just done got me a new white ass to add to my barn, ya’ think? Let’s see what ya’ can do with this’n, Jake,” he warned me.
With that, Doy plugged into my asshole in one long, deep pile driver stroke. Spit-slippery while he had talked. It made my big dick throb up in the old farmer’s throat and without notice, stimulated an acute eruption, spewing cum all in the old guy’s mouth. I surprised him by it, and his mouth slipped off momentarily, squirting jism over his face.
Doy was leaning over my shoulder and viewed his implanting effect, telling me in certain terms that I better just settle in for the long haul, ‘cause he’d already had one interrupted ending this morning with the little dick thief. He wasn’t doin’ another aborted effort. His hands secured me in position by the shoulders and the farmer realized he was in for a show, so took my throttle back in his mouth for the long drive… such metaphors spelled out the long-ass fuck I ‘endured’ over the coming half hour.
Doy was prolific in his longevity, no doubt. The man embedded a quick cum load into me just by the recall of feeling the giant’s jumbo dick in the bath house the night he played next to me with Cal’s dick all up in his own ass. I took the gargantuan dick while feeling Cal’s dick flood Doy’s ass twice before I even knew who was doing what to whom. I hadn’t been allowed to look…
Likewise, Doy had had his hand on my ass, feeling the jumbo dick poling me, stroke by stroke. Now, Doy was fantasizing the memory, as was I, and his quick spasming informed me of the fact. Plus, it warranted an act of minority-ownership, by his reasoning.
That was just the warm-up, as my ebony in-law proceeded to attest his versatility, now playing the top man’s role masterfully. He fucked me every way possible in those confines without ever breaking the old man’s contact with my cock, as he dosed me multiple loads while spelling out in vivid detail all the things he’d seen me do, was doing at that moment, and was gonna be doing to me in the future.
By his communicative prowess, my sexual social calendar appeared prolific in his summarization of the dozens of past, present and future attempts at, or to be attempting, my impregnation… fat chance, I thought. That impossibility was a solid given. However, I wasn’t about to argue under the circumstances. In truth, I liked the allusions.
The farmer literally got a mouthful with an earful as he pacified himself on as much big, white prick as he had ever thought to do. The retiree was privy to all the excessively nasty plans the Broadhearst family of brother’s apparently held in store for their communal Anglo brother…Cal would surely acquiesce, I was told.
As if to solidify the ‘contract’, who should appear at that moment in my peripheral vision but my man, Calumet. He had missed me and come looking. Look what he’d found, he grinned… his main squeeze familiarizing with his family and the neighbors… in very friendly fashion. Imagine that.
Doy deposited un-numbered baby loads up my ass, then in gentlemanly fashion, stepped aside as my Cal plugged into the cum-deluged asshole. I was poking the chute up and back in my attempts at qualifying for Ripley’s believe-it-or-not records: cumloads in a row. Stand back, Barry Manilow.
Cal, always my knight, succeeded in raising my flagging bone upon perceiving the familiar 10’s, and we surged together in conjoined bliss while the now-transfixed farmer and Doy wandered their hands over, around, between and amongst our molded bodies, aiding the prolongation of our honeymoon.
I’m unaware of anything approaching reality in quantifying that sex session. It was true, though, that the dicks in my ass numbered two, the dicks in various mouths were not limited to three, and the dispensation factor allowed Catholics for consanguinity trespasses couldn’t have kept our pace through the next hour.
Cal’s careful, deliberate deep-stroking forced a final emphatic ejaculation from my overworked cyclopean eye. Feeling me let loose, my man planted a crescendo of pumping spurts, coating my insides with one more possessive orgasm. We hung together, dick inside, his hand pressing on my tight belly. Lips and teeth hickied my ravaged neck and big bare feet remained planted widely outside my own.
The picture must’ve been stimulating. When both of our eyes re-opened and focused, we watched Farmer Brown’s aged but sturdy piece ooze out a very mature load. Tears escaped the sated man’s eyes as he peered up at us, confirming a triple back-to-back for the first time in years…
“You boys be beyond fly’,” he growled. The old man never thought that would happen again. He had been satisfied enough, he said, by the blue pill re-boot. “I can live with this remindin’,” tapping his head with a finger, “and leave the flicks in the drawer.” Flipping his wilting piece, the old guy sagged back.
Doy chimed in, “Well, Skeezer, don’t hide the video streamer— look-it here.” He sat on the side chair, viewing the device brought by Cal as he had slipped in. Our whole episode was still playing, realtime. As we watched, Cal reached over, flipped the keypad a couple times and brought back up a live-feed skype link. None other than Jeremy and Luke, our studly best men from Austin, were grinning, wide-eyed, amidst their own climax through cyberspace. Enjoying a birds-eye view of our impromptu orgy. The stroking evident in the reverse feed showed their vicarious involvement.
“Cal, how in hell did you do that?” I asked, incredulous.
Waving at our closest friends, he looked at me, “Don’t ask me, boii. Viv did all the work over to the house. I just brought it along looking for you,” he laughed. “She’s the Wiz at this stuff… just keep the damn thing locked up.”
Doy promised the old farmer we would download him a copy… Day-Umm, was I meetin’ me some neighbors, now.
