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Timberfell Stories 2: Look Inside

January 1, 2016

This second volume gets texbearjoe through floods and stories, hot rods and a hot daddy weekend before bidding his farewell to two weeks at this extraordinary campground.

From Hot Rods to campfire stories, the “Evil Dead” to American Castles, who knew this corner of the South had so much going on, in so many directions, with so many men. This collection and recollection of stories at and around the famous campground is guaranteed to not leave any mysteries about what bears, dads, cubs, sons, bodybuilders, chunks, hunks, twinks, friends and strangers do in the woods, in the shower, by the pool, on the picnic table, at the gym, in the bar…

Book 2 gets texbearjoe through floods and stories, hot rods and a hot daddy weekend before bidding his farewell to two weeks at this extraordinary campground.

This eBook is available now on Amazon.com

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Read this excerpt to enjoy some of what awaits:

Chapter 8
Bristol Motor Speedway

My trip from Timberfell Lodge to get my defective rental car replaced wasn’t that bad – it was maybe an hour, it was around 10am and I still had a few hours to blow before going back, settling in for Daddy Weekend by the pool at Timberfell. As I drove away from Tri-Cities airport, there was a huge sign for some event at Bristol Motor Speedway, and I snickered. The same moonshine that I had from last night was the same moonshine that guys from my area hid from local police during Prohibition – and developed souped-up cars to be able to drive away from cops. “Smokey and the Bandit” was quite an old idea. The stock cars that they retuned, rebored, and re-suspended, well, they got together and made NASCAR to oversee the racing part of the “Stock Cars”. It’s funny how everything gets connected in Appalachia.

I took a quick detour over to the Speedway, and started noticing cars parked, well, everywhere. Something big had to be going on – height of summer, well, it was big trucks. Monster trucks to be specific, and fuck, traffic was a nightmare. I got to the actual speedway itself, and lo-and-behold, I could pay $30 bucks and park my car. That was that. Got rid of the Impala, and started walking to the speedway, hearing the roar – fuck, it was loud – and crowds, and I thought, “This is really early!” Aside from trailers for the crews, there was a part of the parking area of the speedway set off with classic Stock Cars, and I almost fainted. There it was, a Plymouth Superbird. You have to imagine what it would look like if a 6-year old designed a car, with an aerodynamic spoiler about six-feet above the ground. The car even had the original “Roadrunner” Decal on it – guys, the horn makes a “meep meep” sound like the roadrunner.

I practically ran up to it panting, and though most people were up in the stadium with the monster trucks, the owner of a raft of classic cars was there as I walked by. Very nice Daddy type, NASCAR baseball cap, greasy shirt with fur coming out the buttons, deep, kind brown eyes, thick worn hands – absolutely pure sort of distilled fantasy daddy. No beard, but bushy sideburns like it was still 1970, the production year of the Superbird. “Ahh,” I said, not able to speak. It was like seeing an Ivory-Billed woodpecker, or an original Margaret Keane “Big Eye” painting. You had to have a very particular taste. I love domed cars, for one thing. VW Beetle, Jaguar XKE (I had one), Alfa-Romeo Spider (has to be curved back), Karmann-Ghia, Porsche Speedster. Then I like muscle cars. Something like Charles Burns “El Borbah” would drive, with a screaming skull on the side in a top hat. Noisy.

“Yep, she’s a beauty,” Daddy said. “That’s a real muscle car,” I finally replied. -walking around it, the insane headlamps, the tilt. He stared at my chest, which does one single thing to me. I flexed my pecs, and made them bounce. It’s like hearing “shave and a haircut,” you have to add “two bits”. Completely involuntary. He stared, and then looked down, sheepishly, then without moving his head, glanced back up at my tits, and then my arms, his eyes removing my teeshirt inch by square inch. We began chatting about the engine “Got a Six-pack?” I asked? He feigned being affronted; “Mister, that’s a Dodge you’re talking about. This here’s got a Six Barrel” – that means that there were three double-carburetors feeding the engine, which had 440 cubic inches of displacement. Engine talk for big engine, and especially big fuel feed to get very high output. “Shee-it” I said, “I like‘em big, but hell, that’s Carzilla.”

My new friend Rory laughed and said, “Weeeell, we got ’em big.” I saw him staring at me again, and his eyes rose up and looked straight into mine, like he was boring inside me. “I gotta feeling you like big too.” Rory glanced down at the ground again, grinning, “You can say anything you like can’t ya,” he laughed, “With those guns.” He moved suddenly walking over, staring at my arms, “How big is ’em”? He asked. I did a quick double biceps, flexing practically under his nose. “Round ‘about 22 inches,” I said. But that’s just muscle, know what I mean? Some big things you can’t grow.” Rory looked down, and I thought he was shy, but he looked up, and had an amazing expression, “Yeah, you can say anything you like can’t ya,” but he wasn’t being shy, he looked hungry, and amused. He stood beside me looking at the car.

“Big all over?” he asked, grinning, looking up at me. I realized he was slightly shorter. And I could smell the old spice, he was so close. “Oh yeah,” I said, laughing. “I don’t think you’ve seen anything this big tho, mister?” he said, grinning, and I don’t know why, but I realized he wasn’t chewing gum. Or chewing tobacco. I stared at the car, “What do you mean?” I said, squatting to look at the wheels. “Whatcha think I mean?” he said, and then startled me. He bent over me, and rubbed his crotch against my shoulder. First, he was wearing loose greasy khakis, and not jeans. Second, it felt like he rubbed a vacuum cleaner hose against my shoulder. My mind literally went blank. I thought that can’t be real. It just can’t be. “You ok Joe,” Rory said, laughing out loud. “Cat gotcha tongue?”

I like all size cocks, but there’s nothing like a huge cock to get your attention. And on this good-old southern Daddy, out here at the racetrack. Rory looked around – the roar from the stadium was still going on, and nobody was around. I was holding onto the tire, and he rubbed up against my shoulder again. “Yep, that’s a big shoulder, I can see you like big mister.” He laughed again. “Come on, you’re wearing something,” I finally said weakly, “Well, Joe, you know, I can say anything I like too, can’t I?” He held up his arm and flexed, he had solid muscle, average sized. “Yeah, I’m big too.” My head was kind of whirling. This fantasy Daddy was hung, not just ‘hung’ but “HUNG”, and flirting with me. My mouth was going dry. I looked at it, and thought, OK, and said “Prove it.” Those were the magic words.

Rory walked up to the car, and turning and looking either way, leaned down on the top. He reached down and unzipped. I expected him to haul his cock out, but instead, he pulled my hand over and pushed it in his pants. We both looked in the distance. First, a huge muff of fur. Second, it felt like an arm. Not a baby arm, an adult man’s arm. It flexed and pulsed. And I couldn’t get my hand around it. I felt down, and couldn’t find the bottom. He pulled my arm out and said, “See, I can say anything I like too!” I looked at this Daddy, who was smiling at me now, dimples, and looked at a trailer in the distance. I leaned over, “Rory, I’ll trade you some monster muscle for monster cock.” Rory smiled, and pointed at the trailer. “Let’s relax, see what happens.” We got in that trailer so fast…

It was immaculate. A bed, couch, small kitchen, racks of materials for repair, very businesslike, but comfortable at the same time. When the door was shut, Rory changed his attitude slightly, he took me in a big bear hug, and kissed me – our mouths locked, two 50-year-old guys comfortable with themselves, and sex, and wanting nothing more than the moment. Rory moved his smooth mouth all over my beard, then my biceps, and arm, moaning slightly, holding my hand up to flex. He turned me sideways, and humped against me, his huge cock now pressed against my groin, then thigh, squeezing me and whispering “sexy mother fucker” in my ear, tongue playing into it. He kept rubbing, his hand sliding down over my chest, then suddenly pulled my shirt up, and rubbing his sweaty hands over my chest, groaning and biting my ears.

His hands moved down into my pants, and sliding over my jeans, he felt my cock, “Sheee-it!” he laughed, “Big all over too!” I turned full-face to Rory, putting my arms around him, and squeezed him, grinding my cock against his, rubbing my beard against his neck, up to his ear kissing, then back to his lips. The faint scent of old spice, it was everywhere, not annoying but very masculine. I unbuttoned his shirt, more fur coming out, and rubbing thumbs on his nipples, he groaned more, eyes rolling back up – I hadn’t had a sensitive guy for a while. Pulling off his shirt, I looked at his sexy stocky body, and we grappled and kissed more. Rory took my face, looking at me seriously – “Most guys can’t do much with my, uh, double-barreled carburetor.” “Rory, don’t worry.” I had to add.

Rory kissed me hard again, rough hands against my cheeks. We sat down on the rough couch, and I undid his thick belt. Pulled his greasy wide Carhartt khakis down, and he was wearing sort of long-legged white jockey shorts, but he had to – they held his cock down along his leg. His legs were thick, and proportionally stocky compared to his chest and belly, very furry, beautiful; big calves. I kneeled in front of him, and pulled the shorts down, revealing a cock that never seemed to stop. It flopped up against his belly on the couch – two thick cylinders with the piss-tube between; looked semi-cut, and was long – not quite a beercan, but definitely more than a paper towel tube. I squeezed the nice average balls, and his cock head flopped up on my biceps – and I really had to gasp.

I’d not seen a cock like that since Rene in Rotterdam, at the big-cock sex parties in Amsterdam. And Rene, like Rory, was totally into Bodybuilders, crazy for them. I sat back slightly, looking at Rory, and flexed a little, squatting, and Rory groaned, starting to jack off just the last third of his cock with a thick-fingered hand, and reached out to stroke my biceps and chest, then as I stood and did a lat spread, he continued jacking, groaning. I slowly pulled my jeans and underwear off, my cock bouncing out – He was big, but I was still more than 2/3 the length of his cock as I lay them side by side, but he was literally a foot long, big Daddy dick, hairy untrimmed crotch. Daddy stood up, cock sticking out like it was cantilevered; Rory suddenly looked shy. “It’s not too big?” “Fuck no!” I said, mouth still dry, wondering what damage that could do.

We rubbed cocks as Rory continued feeling my muscles, circling around me, and said, “I was worried. You’re so fucking big and sexy.” He suddenly grabbed from behind and hugged me, hard and urgently, his cock coming up between my legs. He tried to clasp his hands, but my chest and back were too big, and as he tried harder, he let out low moaning groans, I was fulfilling some deep fantasy with him. I was also dripping with cum, so excited by this sexy stocky dad, and drooling all over his cockhead. He rested his face against my back, squeezing my chest with both hands, kneading my pecs so I flexed them, causing him to tremble slightly. I felt him let me go a second, and turning around, he grabbed my upper arm, and tried to get his fingers to touch around it.

He was so excited his hands were shaking slightly, and he was in completely muscle-shock, probably as much as I was in cock-shock. I flexed my biceps for him, and he immediately put his mouth and began sucking the wide flat muscle, and let go, rubbing his mouth now over my chest, wiping his cock along my legs, along my cock. He stepped back, and looking to one side, fumbled in a box, and pulled out a yellow coil – measuring tape. He grunted, and I flexed my bicep again, and circling it he got 22″. He squatted down, and I heard his cock thump on the floor, as he measured my calves – 19″, quads 28″, 34″ waist (thank god!), then around my chest, 58″. “I hope I’m not too big Rory” I said, smiling. “I’m not ripped, but that’s professional size.

Rory was jacking his big cock now, stroking my body with his other hand, looking slightly crazed and confused. I whispered, “How big are you Dad,” and Rory looked at me confused for a second, then grinned. I laid the tape measure with the metal nib at the base of his cock, just like I had my Dad, I thought suddenly, and smoothing the nylon-plastic ribbon, stroked along his cock, until it fell over the tip, just short of 12″. “You like that Buddy,” Rory said, breathing hard, “You like big Dad cock like that muscleman?” “I like you Rory,” and at that, gave him a huge hug, kiss, lifting him off the floor and putting him on the couch. I kneeled in front of him, and he was slightly agitated, and got up and closed some cabinet doors behind me, then I saw floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
We were quite close, and as I turned back, he had a view of my bulging calves, ass, and flaring back and shoulders as I bent down. I put my hands on his knees so he could see my triceps flex along with my traps as I bent down, chasing his cockhead with my mouth. Bingo. I got my mouth on it, and slid it in just a little bit, tasting the sweat of the day, and his strongly flavored precum – he must have been dripping an hour. I spread my legs a little bit and waved my hips so he could see my cock dangle down underneath all the muscles. Rory put his rough hands on my traps, and squeezed, so I squeezed them back as he gasped, the thick muscle popping up in his hands like an animal on my back. I pushed more of his cock in my mouth, which was still dry, nervous about the size.

I pulled back, “Rory, do you have any kind of oily lube?” I asked, and he pulled out a bottle of some clear oil. I opened the top, and let the gooey fluid cascade from the tip to the base, getting his pubes all wet. I still rested on the balls of my feet, and clasped my hands on his cock sliding up and down the full foot squeezing it between my hands and getting it nice and wet. Rory didn’t say a word, just sat, touching his brown nipples occasionally, staring in the mirror behind me. I got the cockhead in my mouth again, hands back on his knees, and now nice and slick, I pushed it deep into my mouth, feeling my lips stretch wider and wider, the cockhead now against the back of my throat. I relaxed, and it popped in easily – he was long, but limber – and he grunted and yelped.

“What the hell!” Rory barked, hands clamped on my traps and deltoids like steel vises. “UNHHHH”, he groaned, and I pushed forward slightly more. “Wha, wha?” he started again, and one leg stuck out straight, shaking, “AHHUHOOOOHHH” he yelled, then sucked in his breath. I continued to push his cock in my throat, but at that angle, it wasn’t going to work, so I bobbed my head slightly, feeling the thick shaft stretching my mouth, throat, flattening my tongue, and moving in and out, just so grotesquely long. I swallowed, letting my throat muscles ripple down the shaft when Rory pushed hard, pulling his cock completely out of my mouth. He sat panting on the couch, “Oh my GOD Joe, what did you do? What did you do?” he said, jacking his cock again, pushing a thumb in my mouth. “You’ve got muscles where there ain’t no place! I dunno!”

I laughed and he looked at the mirror, I’m sure my back muscles were rippling. “Stand up Rory,” I asked, and he struggled to his feet in front of the saggy couch. His cock was sitting on my shoulder. Literally. I grabbed his ass, noting it was quite furry though his back was smooth, and pulled it back, and aimed his cock in my mouth again. Before I took the head, “I’m going to swallow you,” I said, “It’s not too deep?” I asked, and Rory laughed, “HELL NO!” and at that, he bent over slightly, taking hold of my traps, briefly squeezing my shoulders. I got the head of his cock in, and my mouth was still slightly oily. I slurped around the head, pressing my lips together, and sticking my tongue out to lap along the full length, feeling the thick tubes on either side grow more taught as I slid further in my mouth.

I opened wide now, not sucking, and the head of his cock hit against my throat again. I closed my lips around his cock, and then drew it slowly back out, then slowly pushed it back in, pushing with a small jerk to get the head in my throat. Rory grunted again, squeezing me. I leaned back and looked up, and he was completely hypnotized watching the huge muscleman suck him in the mirror. I pushed further, and felt his cock burrow and stretch in my throat, sliding past my lips. A growing pressure pushed in my chest as his cock slid far beyond my voice box, deeper into my throat and I worried for a second that he would somehow push into my stomach. I slid in and out, 3-4 inch strokes to get it in deeper as Rory shook and sighed, grunting, and finally holding my head and shivering.
I pushed, and finally I felt his lube-wet bush against my face, my lips wide open and flat against the base of his cock. Then I swallowed. My swallow reflex felt obstructed, there was after all a footlong cock in me, but the angle I was sucking at was perfect, everything just fit. My big thick Dad was completely shoved in my throat, but all he could think about was my huge muscles. I had to breathe, so pulled out slowly, gasped, then pushed back in, swallowing as I pushed him in this time. I don’t know how long it went on, and I was surprised – a lot of guys cum very fast when I deepthoat them to that extent, but Rory was fine. That’s the beauty of aged beef, he knew how to pace himself. He leaned forward, stroking the full width of my back, hand roaming around until he came back to my chest, feeling it and squeezing, so I let his ass go, and flexed in a double-bicep, hands high as I continued to throat-fuck myself on his massive cock.

I had to feel it, though, and one moment I paused, and holding onto the shaft with my hands, slowly pulled it out of my throat, then started jacking it, from base to tip, squeezing it over and over, then pushed it back in my throat, back down, perfectly – my throat was made for his cock, his cock was made for my throat. I reached up, and pinched his nipple, and that did it. He yowled, and started shaking more, so I pinched the tiny brown nipples harder, sucking harder, my whole body shaking as I had to move so far to get the cock in and out of my throat. He struggled in front of me, shuddering, when he literally bowed down over me, his hips shoving his cock in my mouth as I felt his cock grow thicker, and start unloading cum into me, straight into my belly.

I wrapped my arms around his furry legs and squeezed his ass cheeks, which were clenching and thrusting away – my only regret that I didn’t taste a drop of his juice. He slowly finished, and started gasping for breath, and I slowly pulled him out of my throat and pushed him back down on the couch. He rolled his eyes, breathing hard, his limp cock laid up along over his leg draping back down to the couch. “FUCK” I said, grinning, and he looked at me and focused for a second. “Ain’t, ain’t nobody done that before Joe, OOAHH.” He shook his head, and one hand wiped from his forehead to his mouth, sweat dripping, and he rested his arms out wide, staring at me as I stood up, cock still dripping precum. I was covered in sweat too, and he said in a deep southern drawl, “Gawd DAMN, you are so fucking BIG!”

I stepped on the couch, over him, watching my sexy Dad look up with big eyes, and I squatted down slowly, putting my weight on his lap, wiping myself. I grabbed the bottle of oily stuff, and started wiping even more on my body, getting a good shine on as he sat, open-mouthed again. I reached out and put his hands on my chest – finally he could see all of my front, and moved his hands over my slick muscles, and I have to say I was more than a little pumped from flexing and sucking him just then. He started squeezing and rubbing me, my flexing bloated bulges popping out of his hand as I jacked myself off, every muscle fiber twitching as I raised and lowered my hand over my own slick cock. I used both hands, showing off all my muscles flexing as I pumped my cock.

Rory grew more intense, sliding his hands over me, then reaching down from calf, quad, up over my belly, chest, arms, shoulders. I reached forward and tweaked his nipples through the fur on his chest, and to my surprise, his cock bounced on his leg. I dropped my cock for a moment, and with slick fingers pinched his nipples. He closed his eyes, hands on my biceps, and whispered “harder”. I squeezed them like seeds, letting them pop out between my fingers, as he jumped, and his cock jumped up, up and then nestled up between his own furry pecs. I clamped his nipples between the first and second finger of each hand, and rubbed my thumb along the sensitive head, and he sighed and started breathing hard. I stood up a little, and getting our cocks lined up, started jacking them together, fingers around his and thumb around mine as I tweaked his nipples back and forth.

He kept stroking my muscles, his cock getting harder and harder, and I knew what I wanted. I put more lube on his cock, coating it thoroughly, then putting one foot on the couch, raised up and pulled his cock under my leg, and up along my ass. I was too low – it was too long! I raised up, cock almost in his mouth, and he held onto my big quads looking up, his dimpled Dad face looking surprised. I stroked his cockhead against my asshole, and then with every bit of my mind, focused on relaxing. Relaxing. I dropped his cock for a second, and massaged my asshole, pushing fingers in as best I could to open it, and then pulled his cock back, the head against my asshole. I sat on it gently, and it popped right in – long cock, not too thick. Fumbling slightly, I put my other foot up on the couch, and then hands on his shoulders, slowly, slowly pushed him up in me.

It wasn’t painless. Rory gritted his teeth, and whispered “Fuck on my muscleman!” over and over, and the deeper he got, the more I felt all my muscles contracting. He started becoming more and more verbal, excited by the bulging mass of muscle in front of him, my cock rubbing on his chest as I settled down, and I leaned forward to a position I found was a little less hard on my asshole. His face was buried in my greasy chest, and I reached down and started aggressively tweaking his nipples. I finally had to reach around, and realized that I had about half of his cock in me at that point, he was still not up in my guts yet. I squatted again, more carefully, and “POP” he was in me further, a sharp stab of pain, followed by a long warm feeling of absolute ecstasy, that huge cock deep inside me.

I flexed for him, rubbing my cock in his fur, and held onto his nipples for balance as I pushed more and more inside me. I’m sure my belly was bulging from his cock pushing deeper and deeper in me, I could feel every inch of it. Rory was not quite able to speak when I flexed my body, squeezing his cock with my ass and pulling up and down now, bouncing 250 lbs. in his lap. Finally I hit bottom, feeling his fur on my ass, and I ground down, nestling his cock completely up in me, pausing for a moment. My ass felt numb, wide-stretched, but more than anything, I felt completely full. I pushed my tits in Rory’s face, flexing them, bouncing as I started working up and down his cock like riding a horse, but I had to jack off. I was in pain, red cock, white cum, and blue balls was all I could think of, and taking both hands again, started jacking off in front of him as I continued squatting.

My quads were flexing and bulging along with my calves, chest almost cramped, same as my biceps. I was riding him hard now, slamming and slapping on his groin with 250lbs jamming him into the couch. Literally. He seemed to be sliding into it, I guessed it was some sort of fold-out thing, and poor Rory was now buried in muscle, arms struggling around me, but greasy, not able to get a hold. He whimpered, face crammed against me as I rode him and jacked, when I felt myself cumming but a strange way. If you’ve ever been fucked, really fucked deeply, you cum, but sometimes not really shooting – that’s what happened. I felt cum spurt out, but the hot wave of orgasm went over me, over and over and I realized it was like my ass, and my guts were cumming, my whole body shivering and seizing up.

I jacked harder, smearing the cum in Rory’s chest as he clasped hands around my waist, pulling up against my body as I pulled him out of the couch on the upstroke, when with a bellow, I felt him thrust up in me frantically, like a pile driver, feet on the floor and good leverage. Fuck, my ass felt wet, he was hosing my insides like a fire hydrant with cum again, face crushed in my chest, unable to talk or breathe, just a pure fuck tool inside my ass. My orgasm was still thrumming when I felt Rory’s thrusts get weaker, until I put my hands on the back of the couch, and slowly pulled up. God. The sensation of that monster cock sliding with a slick vacuum pressure in my abdomen, pulling out like a snake. It was unreal, and shocked me, actually. I stood up, unsteady, and looked down, Rory’s wet cock there over the edge of the low couch almost on the ground, cum dripping out of my ass, down my leg.
I carefully climbed down, trying to get steady for a second, Rory was gasping, eyes-closed, and I hunted and found a towel to put on the couch for a second. I threw myself down beside him, and pulled his head over, kissing his ear, and he rested it on my huge pillowy pec, still catching his breath. I sat there wondering how I could kidnap this guy, when he turned his head, and kissed my chest then worked his face down a little, and reaching over, stroked my cock, rubbing his thumb on the tip, getting another squirt of cum out as I jerked! He sighed, and kicking his feet up, lay out on the couch, head on my lap, his big cock shrinking slightly, and said “I’m a-gonna kidnap you.” I played with his sideburns, and rubbed his chest as he reached backwards and grabbed my arm, squeezing it like he was testing an animal out before buying. “If I stay here, we’re going to be fucking around all day.” I said, and Rory laughed.

“I ain’t never been fucked, but you’re the first man I’d want to. How old are you?” “50” I said. Rory laughed. “I’d love to be your son, but I’m a bit older than you honey. Just want to feel safe and sexy with you big guy.” I tweaked his nipple, and we continued to talk like lovers do, after hot sex. Rory finally said, “I gotta meet the crew for lunch.” I kissed him, and we got up, staring at each other. I whispered in his ear, “Daddy’s got more where that came from, son.” We both started laughing, and wiping off, I put my clothes on, and a moment later stepped out of the trailer, after long necking with Rory again on the couch, fully clothed, feeling that snake in his trousers. What a nice start to Daddy Weekend! But as Rory went off, I realized I couldn’t eat lunch. See, I brought something special with me for Daddy Weekend at Timberfell, some magic truffles, and you don’t want to eat them with anything else at all. But that’s the next story.