Enjoy 420 pages of the fully Timberfell Lodge experience, first time out in paperback, soon to be followed by the eBook set.
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…
This Paperback is available now on Amazon.com, and createspace.com bookstores
Read this excerpt to enjoy some of what awaits:
At Timberfell dinner that night, Jim seemed kind of exhausted – I do love sort of taking control of a top, and he was milked, stroked, and played with until those big balls were empty. I ended up sitting between to very exuberant guys, and we talked up a storm, about everything, personal as well as silly – what was the most embarrassing sex moment, what was the last music they bought for someone, and we came to the bucket list, and they wanted to have “Shine” at some point. Moonshine, to be specific, they weren’t sure it really existed. Ben and Larry kind of drifted away from the subject, to childhood memories, and I told them about my first exposure to moonshine. My Dad, the rank alcoholic, had asked some of construction guys that worked for him that very question – is Moonshine real – while they were watching football, and one of his guys laughed.
“What do you want that for, huh?” and then came the intense discussion, and it ended up that the following Saturday, we would go on a little drive, without my Mom knowing, to a still up in the hills. I don’t know how I got involved in these things, but I went on describing it to Ben and Larry who were very curious about all the details. We drove for the better part of an hour up into Virginia, in a quite poor area. We normally went that way to buy cigarettes because the tax was different. You kind of went along the main highway for a while, then the roads got smaller, and smaller, and you were on a windy road in the hills. We passed a log cabin, that I would have sworn was built for a movie set, but people lived there, with an outhouse, and I was reminded that my grandparents didn’t have running water until the 60’s.
Up a road then, side of a hill, further up and the road ended. There was tobacco – a huge hill covered with it – and somewhat neat rows of corn in a low-lying, flatter area, and then some sort of regular vegetable patches, a few cows up on another hill. Big old barn, it looked like if you blew on it, it would fall over. We all went up to the house, and out came a somewhat wary guy, and the building guys and Dad sat with him on the porch. I was bored to tears, furious at my Dad for drinking, and his crew for helping it all along, and I didn’t bring any books to read so I had to sit and listen. It was a slow conversation, Appalachia style, quiet with significant pauses looking out at the countryside, cigarettes smoked, and some in-jokes I didn’t understand.
The Wary man wasn’t happy I was there, I slowly guessed, but I didn’t say anything, waiting patiently to get away. Wary kept looking at me, and I got a chill realizing he wasn’t angry at me, he was staring at me, sizing me up for something. And one of the jokes was about me. I was only about 13 at the time, and adult humor hadn’t quite settled in. Wary was medium height, what we would call today ginger hair – reddish brown, ice blue eyes in the late-afternoon sun, almost without pupils. He’d known his share of work, and had a lined face, smoking hadn’t helped. This seemed to take forever. Wary came out with a small Mason jar, with what looked like water in it, and set it on a table by my Dad and the other guys. He looked at me suddenly, and said “Wanna see a still honey?” in a deep resinous voice like two polished boards rubbing together.
My Dad looked down, suddenly embarrassed for some reason, but he picked up the Mason jar, and unscrewing the lid, sniffed at the liquid, and I smelled alcohol. I hopped down off the chair I was on, wanting to get away, and followed Wary, and one of the work guys and we walked up a trail past the barn, to another shed quite a bit away. Wary put his hand on my shoulders as we walked, and something in my head clicked, I thought, he wants to play. We continued on until we got near a stream on a steep side of the hills, in a clear area, and there was a shed with a pipe on top sort of over the stream. It was dark inside, but with the two doors open you could see the setup. The whole place was a dusty mess, and there was a pile of rotten vegetation to one side of the shed.
Inside, you could see a stove with a big kettle on top, and out of the top came a copper tube that dipped into a barrel. One side of the barrel seemed to be fed by stream water, which went back out under the shed. The copper pipe went into another barrel, also full of stream water, and came back out the side and dripped into one of a number of glass jars stacked up. The fire was out I guess, I heard trickling from the stream water, and I began asking Wary all sorts of questions, which he almost gleefully answered about the still. The crew guy who came along wandered off leaving me with Wary, who patted my head and squeezed my shoulders telling me how smart I was. I had a hard time rolling my eyes, and was beginning to wonder how much fur was under his shirt, and how big the cock was in those overalls.
We went back out, and Crew guy was sitting there, when Wary said he believed he needed to take a piss. Now that was very odd. Did I need to? Wary walked over to a tree nearby, and told me that that was the best place, and Crew suddenly jumped up and ran over. Wary unzipped, and reached in with his left hand, and groped around, pulling out what, to my young eyes, looked like a huge cock, with a ruff of red-brown hair that stuck out. Crew, who was skinny as a rail, unzipped also and pulled his cock out, staring down at Wary’s cock, mouth open, glancing at me in the eyes from moment to moment, guiltily. Wary was like cock-of-the walk, pulling on his meat, and told me to pull mine out. I don’t need to be told twice. I unzipped, and my cock practically jumped out, but there was no way I was going to piss with that hardon.
Wary gave out a big manly “Unggggaaaaahhhhhh” and a stream of yellow piss splashed all over the tree we were standing in front of, and he continued to whish all over, looking down at me. I sat there paralyzed, my cock in my hand, looking back and forth between the two adult cocks. Crew finally started whizzing a little bit, and Wary solicitously congratulated him. Wary stood back, and asked if I was going to piss, or just hold the handle, and I must have flashed brilliant pink blushing, my hand trembling. Then the game began in earnest. Wary squeezed his cock, a tiny bit of piss dripping off the end then shook it. But he didn’t stop shaking it, but continued to stroke and shake it, occasionally whacking it on his leg. Crew was breathing hard, holding his cock deadly still watching Wary, who groaned a little bit, and his cock started getting hard.
He was grower, I guess we’d say today, and his pale white cock sort of began pushing out of his pants of its own accord, getting longer, thicker and meaner looking. He fumbled in his pants, and pulled out a pair of meaty balls, sighing, and laughing about their needing to get some air. “What you looking at son,” he grinned, shaking the big fat cock now in front of me. “Looking at this? Come here honey!” He said. I walked up, and could smell his cock – the male odor of sweat, maybe some of the piss, and something, something else. He jacked himself openly now, sliding his hand, and pulling a little of the foreskin back. As light as the skin was, his cockhead was a purplish-red, wrapped up in that white foreskin sleeve. He kept pulling it back and forth, realizing I was completely transfixed by his huge cock, frozen.
“You can touch it honey, it ain’t gonna bite!” he said, generously. In a flash my hand was up, a small hand on the fat shaft, hot and rubbery. I’ll never forget the feeling when he flexed his muscles and his cock bounced up and down in my hand, like a living creature. I stroked it, and then slowly pulled his foreskin back, the head unrolling out of the white skin like a huge purple fruit shooting out of a rubber tube. Deep split in the tip, wet and almost slimy looking, fat. I was sure it was as big as my fist, but size, as they say, is in the eye of the beholder. Wary was staring at my own cock, and suddenly reached down and pulled on it, “Big Tallywhacker honey, whoo!” he said, and I then noticed that Crew was jacking off his cock as hard as he could, open-mouthed staring at the two of us.
Wary licked his thumb and sliding his hand up and down my shaft, he rubbed the tip of my cock in circles with the wet digit, sending electric bolts through my cock and groin. I gasped for breath, my hips flexing like they were fucking the air, uncontrollably. I kept stroking Wary’s big meat, feeling the foreskin pop each time it retracted over the fat head, then back out. “Honey, if you’re gonna stroke the meat, you gotta do it firm like, you know?” He started stroking my cock with his hand squeezing me gently, then he spit in his hand, and with the firm grip and slick skin started stroking my teenage cock in earnest. Crew was mouthing something incoherent as Wary continued with me, and Wary got him to come up beside me. My cock was about twice as big as Crew’s cock, even at my age, and Wary loved wrapping his hand around the hairy meat of Crew – I had just started growing body hair.
We stood there for minutes, Wary jacking both of us off as I jacked him off, until he said “I need me some ass.” That was when I saw, what in later years, would be a very dominant top. He pulled Crew over, and with a flick of his hand, slid his pants open and down. He simply clamped a hand on Crew’s neck, rotating him around, forcing his head down, and his ass up in the air. Another swipe, and the underwear was off, and his skinny hairy ass was up in the air. A spit in his hand, and another swipe, and Crew’s ass was visibly wet. Wary then started stroking Crew’s asshole, gently at first, then shoved his middle finger in to the hilt, grinning at me as he shoved it in and out roughly. Crew was whimpering and shivering slightly, but then after a few minutes of the finger rape, was groaning.
I was feeling slightly nauseated thinking I was going to get the same treatment, when Wary grabbed my hand, spitting on it, and wiped it on Crew’s wet hairy ass. “Do what I do, son,” he explained, “You gotta get pussy wet and excited before you fuck it.” I was wrapping my mind around that, and the logic didn’t work. “That’s, uh, that’s a man’s butt, isn’t it?” “Pussy’s the same on a man or woman son, needs to be wet and happy. Gotta lick it before you stick it.” He then took my wrist, in slightly a too tight grip and rubbed my hand over Crew’s wet hole, then literally holding my middle finger up with his worn fingers, shoved it back in the poor guy. His hole, it was wet and hot, and not dirty, I was shocked. I wormed my finger around, intensely curious, and rubbed, feeling very smooth tender flesh in all directions, hot, and his asshole clenching and releasing my finger.
I pushed further in, and then remembering what my doctor did, pressed down, feeling a harder spot. Crew gave out a huge “UNGGGG” and Wary laughed, “You hit his nut, honey. Good! Real Good!” I felt strangely proud, and wondered what would be next. Back at Timberfell, Ben, Larry and I had kind of retreated to the main living room after dinner as I continued the story. The guys were breathless – my age, my Dad kind of giving me over to the moonshine guy, the sleaziness of the whole thing but at the same time the weird dangerous hotness. “Weren’t you afraid” Ben said, “nothing you’d seen before?” I told them about my Dad’s stash of porn, and in the general family library books like “Front Runner” and “One for the Gods” where I was pretty well acquainted with gay sex from an early age actually.
“When you’re a prodigy in math, science, music, literature,” I said, “You may be a prodigy in many things. Sex was one. I knew what, when where, and how I wanted it since I can remember thinking of sex.” Continuing the story, I was finger-fucking poor Crew in front of Wary now, who was jacking his dick off, crouching slightly to watch the poor guy being worked over by a teenager. “Slap his hairy ass, son, he’ll like that.” I didn’t know what to do, so I backhanded his ass, leaving a pink mark, and a painful hand. “That’s it, get his ass hot up now.” Wary’s eyes were blazing with excitement, and we stared at each other, probably 40 years age difference, but we both knew exactly how we operated. I looked at Crew’s hole, and pushed two fingers in, “Now feel around honey; touch all his spots.” Wary said, jacking off.
Abruptly, he stood up, and unclipped the sides of his overalls, and let the front and back drop. No underwear, his massive cock bouncing out in front, lean saggy belly covered with fur, and big furry chest, slightly saggy too – tobacco is never good for you. My cock was so hard it was hurting as he reached down and undid my belt and pants, pulling them down. He put my hand back on his cock, which was so thick now I could only sort of cup it as I stroked, first the top, then the bottom. He jammed more fingers into Crew who was jacking and whimpering, holding onto the tree in front of us. Wary took my cock, and pulling painfully, got the tip up near Crew’s asshole, then slapped my ass, pushing me in. “Fuck that pussy ass boy, be a man!” and then the tip of my cock felt it – the hot slick wetness of Crew’s hole, the tightness – I felt his fur sliding along my cockhead, one of those ‘first time’ sex sensations that set the stage for a long time.
I felt slightly abusive to the guy as I slid my cock in, and felt the urge to say “I’m sorry, but…” but Crew pushed harder, and I didn’t resist, didn’t even think about it. I felt his hairy hole engulf my cock, an instant sensation of almost orgasm, and I slid deeper in, “That’s my boy,” echoing in my mind. I began fucking him, pushing my hips as Wary cooed and patted my ass, as he crouched down to watch that long teenage cock slide in the hairy worker. He rubbed around the hole with his sandpapery finger, pushing in under my cock, pulling on my balls, encouraging me on, goading me on to fuck that hole. He pushed his hairy face up to the hole, his tongue licking at my cock suddenly, then my balls, the fur scratching me all over like hot needles.
My mind kind of went away, I was just in pure fuck heaven at that point, feeling his tongue flick back and forth from the cock to the hole, when he said, “Shit,” and slapped me in the ass, walking away back to the shed. I kept fucking Crew, holding on to his hips, slamming hard into that hole uncontrollably, when a moment later, I felt Wary hold a jar to my mouth, holding my face. I sputtered, and the gasoline-like liquid filled my mouth as he tipped up the Mason jar, and he held my nose, slapping my ass hard. I gasped and coughed, the searing moonshine going down my throat as I coughed and retched, still fucking Crew who got the same treatment. Wary was laughing, gulping down the shine, and he said, “You’re really your Daddy’s boy,” and fed me another gulp.
I felt slightly dizzy, still horny as hell, when Wary pulled me out of crew, rubbing his calloused hand again over my cock, rinsing his mouth with the shine and sucking on it, cleaning all the ass juices off while he pushed a finger in Crew’s ass. Slowly standing up, he kicked off his overalls – now naked and hairy except for boots, he walked behind Crew with that immense cock, and shoved it in Crew’s hole. “Slap your Pa’s hairy ass boy,” he bellowed, drinking more moonshine, and I backhanded his ass, then rubbed the fur, thinking I was going out of my mind. I got on my knees, and buried my face in his thrusting butt, smelling the fur and man-smell, then licked his hole, which got a “whooEEEEE” out of Wary. He crouched over Crew like an animal, hands around his belly, hunching and fucking up in his hole like a bull on a cow, jerky thrusting motions, “Fuck your Pa boy” he whispered, his asshole right towards me.
I watched his thick shaft slide into Crew’s hairy hole, amazed, wanting to taste it while Wary spat on his hand, and started reaming out his hole with fingers, “C’mon” he whispered, “It’s hairy as a pig boy, I know you.” He did. I stumbled up and pushed my cock in his hole just as he started slamming back and forth between us like a piston, my cock in his hole as he reamed Crew, wailing away. I noticed that the bellows and calls were echoing in the hollow outside, and wondered what my Dad was thinking. The heat went up in intensity in Wary’s hole, he was milking my cock suddenly which blew my mind, and I was losing it rapidly. I started blubbering “I’m gonna shoot, I uh, UH, UH” when Wary reached around and slapped my ass, “Fill it up boy!” He yelled, when I felt his asshole grab my cock like it was biting.
He began pulsing, almost still as I screamed, high-pitched enough that I was embarrassed as I flooded his hairy red-rimmed asshole with my cum, jerking like a broken toy against him, on the verge of crying. We three slowly came to a stop, Wary’s furry back against my smooth young torso, and I hoped, hoped as much as I could that I would one day be that hairy. He pulled out roughly, a big pop from Crew who moaned, and rubbing his asshole and smelling his hand, he reached down and took another swig of moonshine. He grabbed my head again in a lock, and poured moonshine in my mouth laughing somewhat nastily, and I sputtered and swallowed what I could. He got is overalls on again, and putting a foot on Crew who was still on hands and knees, put a foot on his ass and kicked him over, telling him to get the fuck up, party’s over.
He disappeared off while I shyly got my clothes on, and came back with a big box of jars of shine, and we walked carefully back down through the beautiful countryside to his house. “We’re a’ comin” he said, as we got close, and a moment later, turning the corner, my Dad was fumbling with his pants along with his builder guy, and I noticed that the builder’s knees were dirty. Dad was drunk, as usual, stinking of alcohol, but in a change, so was I – sick feeling, and Wary clapped me on the back and said, I was a “big help” at the still. My Dad looked at me, and I knew I was my Dad’s son, but not for alcohol. I looked and noticed cumstains on my pants and was completely mortified. Dad got a handkerchief out and wiped my pants carefully, grinning, stinking of alcohol, and we headed back to the car.
Back at Timberfell, Ben and Larry who had been squirming for a half-hour on the couch as I told the story, just sat open-mouthed, and breathing hard at the climax of the scene with the moonshine guy. “That’s not real,” they finally said, looking at each other. “Guys, if you want some shine now, I can take you.” Silence. My old buddy Dale at Dollywood had given me a number – thank god some places still have shine, I heard from family that a lot of those guys had become meth labs, unfortunately. I called, and using all the charm I could, at 8pm on a Friday night, asked if we could come by and pick up a few quarts. Ben and Larry were beside themselves as we got into my convertible and drove off into the early evening to Newport, TN up to the hills to “find us some shine.”
It’s not a good area, and was notorious when I was a kid. I found the road with my phone gps, and about 8pm we headed through an open gap in a fence on a gravel road, and up in the hills, another mysterious cabin, with a guy out front. The first thought in my mind when I met him was “Melungeon” – The usual kind of ancestry in this area of Tennessee is Scottish/German, pale-skinned, reddish-brown hair, everywhere, think of “Hatfields and McCoys”. This guy was different, and was part of a very distinct group of people with very mixed ethnic backgrounds in the area – almost Persian looking to me, after all my travels; olive-brown skin, black hair, almost Mediterranean, black beard; a pirate almost, I was mesmerized.
He asked how I knew Dale, and we all settled on the porch, in the stifling humidity, and we four sat on metal garden chairs that slowly rocked and talked for a little bit while Pirate kept spitting tobacco off the porch. He was satisfied we weren’t dangerous, and came out with a few big mason jars of shine – not clear, I noticed, but a light yellow color. Aged. More sophisticated it looked like. We shook hands and paid, and headed back to the car to get away, and I looked closely at Pirate, his glittering eyes, I was in love. Horny, that is. We started driving back when the disaster occurred. My iPhone ran out of charge. FUCK! You try driving up in the Appalachian foothills at dusk with no direction, on gravel roads and one-and two-lane roads. I couldn’t orient looking at the sky for a big-dipper, and the moon wasn’t high yet, so there wasn’t much light – just the fireflies.
We drove around aimlessly, not even finding new roads, the road names meaningless to us. I saw a light in the distance, and headed towards it as best I could, another gravel road, another house up on a hill – this one surrounded by a bare pasture, some erosion, cows, and a few big trucks. This would be tricky. I drove up, and beeped my horn to signal we were there – I wasn’t about to go to someone’s front door in rural country and bang on it. A big burly guy came out, and asked what I wanted. I stepped out by the car – think how big I looked – and told them we needed directions. That was when I noticed he had a shotgun. I walked forward, and he lowered the gun, and asked why “I ain’t got no phone?” “It was dead.” He stared, and then talked in the door, and two more guys came out, “You can come on up.”
I walked to the house, poor Ben and Larry in the car, and got within eyeshot of the guys. Big thick-built southern bubbas, not the kind of guys you want to get angry, and they didn’t look pleased we were there. Invited in, I was going to use their computer – living room with a huge TV watching a hunting show, looked comfortable. I didn’t stare at them, but they were two swarthy guys, and one pale redhead. Melungeon country. Then I did stare. By the computer was a wall of vases, collectible sort of small pockets. Not one or two, but maybe a hundred. Three big bear guys, shotguns and bibles, but with cute wall pocket vases? They watched me carefully as I put in Baileyton Road, for Timberfell, and they suddenly murmured to each other.
“Where you going Dad?” they asked, I looked at them, and said “Timberfell,” and you could see the joy leap into their eyes, “Timberfell, Daddy weekend?” They all started laughing, and the pale one ran outside and told Larry and Ben to get the hell up in the house. The three had lived together for better part of a decade, and were very careful about being Gay in that area, and had basically retreated a far as they could, working in a plant nearby. Happy hunters, farmers, and bikers, no desire to be part of the gay scene at all in any way, except for Daddy Weekend, which was somehow almost religious for them. They were staring at me now, more hungrily, “Where you get those muscles, Joe” finally Whelen asked, the one that let me in, and we all began talking. For wanting to be remote, they were very friendly, and Larry and Ben got a jar of shine from the car and everyone began passing it around.
Under the flower pockets on the wall was a banjo, and I asked who played, it was Ken the shorter darker man of the three, and we sat for a moment, being friendly, while Ken picked out a few notes, picks on several fingers. “You know, I used to play with Lester Flatt’s grandson in Houston,” which was somewhat mystical – I remembered him being skinny and furry, with a wiry long cock. Ken picked out a few notes of the banjo call from “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” from Deliverance – we were in prime Deliverance country – and I chimed in with the Guitar response, lots of “Da-da-dah, de dah, de dah, de dah’s” and we all laughed, and passed the shine (except me, I just had a sip), while Ken kept picking and I sat beside him trying to remember the rest of the song, doing my best to keep up, fortunately I can sing a major scale up and down, the majority of the song.
Everyone else started in with the parts they could remember, and slowly getting a little bit drunk from the hard alcohol, the noise was rising and we were all singing old Kenny Rogers songs, then Charlie Daniels Band’s “Devil Went Down in Georgia” a moment later. Ken suddenly bent over and kissed me shyly while he played and I was singing along, then the whoops and wails started – and we had to get another jar of shine. Ken kept staring at me shyly as he had a bit more of the alcohol – I have to say, it wasn’t bad when I had another sip, it wasn’t the clear gasoline I had when I was a kid – and we played and sang together for a while. Whelan and his husbear Denny got up, and grabbing my arms and Ken’s arms, escorted us across the creaky floor to a big bedroom, threw us on the bed laughing, as they stumbled out and locked the door.
Ken and I heard laughter outside as the guys resumed talking about hunting or guns, and Ken practically threw himself on me. It was like being in my grandmother’s bedroom – big fluffy bed, lacy curtains, the smell of pine and fresh washed sheets. Ken was my height, a big heavier, and had that beautiful swarthy olive skin, black eyes, balding but kinky black hair that looked so Mediterranean. The hair on his arms was like a brillo pad, very tough, and he hugged me with just a touch of alcohol on his breath, kissing desperately, hungry for hugs and affection. I loved it, rolling with him on the bed, grappling to get arms around each other. Ken finally was sitting on my hips, and slowly pulled my teeshirt off, watching all my muscles kind of roll out, and looked like a kid in a candy store, eyes glittering, white sheets reflecting in them.
He unbuttoned his shirt, more kinky hair pushing out, all over – big belly, broad chest, fur on his shoulders, and from what I could feel on his back. He immediately apologized for being heavy, and for being hairy like a monkey, shy again. He was gorgeous, and I was completely oblivious to the noise next door as I flipped him around on the bed, now underneath me, that fur against the white sheets, and buried myself kissing his beard. I pulled his shirt out, then fumbled at his belt buckle, undoing it, then sliding off the bed got his big boots off, socks with holes in them, then slid his pants off his thick furry legs. His belly jiggled slightly as he panted, and I lifted up one leg, massaging his foot, then quickly licked the tips of his toes, which made him shiver.
I rubbed his thick foot with my thumbs, then put one toe in my mouth, which set him to wail and slap his hands on the bed, so I put all his toes in my mouth, working my tongue in between them sucking on them. He had clearly never had that done, and as my hands roamed over his big legs, feeling down to his underwear, he groaned and cried out for me to stop, but not moving an inch to make it happen. I worked over his other foot the same way, then both big toes in my mouth while I massaged his big thighs. He had a fat hardon, tenting his shorts, and as my hands slid up to squeeze it, he put his hands down, “OH DAD!” and begged me to not squeeze him. That doesn’t work with me, it only eggs me on. So, I paused for a fraction of a second, then got my underwear off, and grabbed his and slid it off in one sweep, then climbed up on his chest.
My cock was dripping, nestled in the fur between his pecs, and squeezing his torso with my quads, I leaned over and started sliding my cock between his thick tits, buried in the fur. He was groaning, incoherent almost, and now and then I slid up so my cock banged his chin, then flipped up and landed on his lips – he pursed his lips, looking at me with fright and wonder almost. I started fucking against him harder, then slid slowly down over his big belly, his short cock pushing up between my balls, then up under my cock, then I got the surprise. I started rubbing my ass back and forth over his cock, feeling the thick meat pushing up under my balls when he grabbed me and frantically tried to pull me off, then at once he shot a huge load up under my balls, whimpering and shivering, big squirts of spooge getting my balls and anal area all wet.
“I’m so sorry,” he began again, “I, I,” and I lay down on top him, hand over his mouth, and said, “Never apologize!” I kissed his ear, then got his whole earlobe in my mouth and sucked, getting another scream from him with my hand over his mouth this time, and sliding off his big hairy bulk, his still hard cock stood straight up, a little cream still leaking out in the moonlight. I crawled over his body, kissing his nipples, belly, then licked a little of the sperm up around his crotch, then kissed his big legs and calves, toes, then worked my way back up. He reached for my cock and began jacking it, and I worked backwards until my cock was directly over his mouth, then lowered it in. Ken froze, my cock sliding deeper into his mouth until I felt the scratchy fur of his beard against my thighs, my cock pushing into his throat, where he expertly swallowed and slurped against it. Real good cocksucker!
I fucked his face gently, pausing now and then to kiss his cum-wet cock, still hard, when he wriggled out from underneath me. He slid off the bed, and standing by it, pulled me over until I was standing in front of him. He squatted down, big furry man, and licked my cock, looking at it closely, then looking up, opened his mouth, tongue out, and slid my cock over his tongue deeper into his mouth, closing his mouth finally over my cock. He was a master at sucking, holding onto my legs as he closed his eyes, rolling his head slightly from side to side reveling in the cock in his mouth, bobbing gently and groaning then abruptly stopping as my cock popped in and out of his throathole. He pulled his head back, sucking hard on the tip of my cock and slowly pushing down so I could feel every inch of my shaft enveloped in his hot mouth until his face was buried against my crotch, beard scratching, effortlessly taking my cock in his throat, not a gag or a pause.
I stroked his balding curly-haired head, feeling his beard as he pulled back, and my hands drifted to his wide hairy shoulders. I spread my legs slightly, and he reached up to stroke my balls, pulling on them just a little, head bobbing more and more as he sucked. He was really in a deep squat now, and letting my balls go braced against the bed and started stroking his cock again. He was grunting and really getting into the suck, spittle drooling down my balls and on the floor as he bobbed and went crazy. Big “schloop, schloop” sounds came out as he opened his mouth now and then for a breath, gurgling and humming to himself whenever my cock wasn’t in his throat. He paused with jacking himself off, spreading his arms to hold on to the bed, the wide reach of his hairy thick upper and lower arms magnificent as he impaled his mouth on my cock like a human sucking machine.
He reached up to my balls again, and I felt his thick fingers slide up more, behind my balls, and then touching is own cum, he scooped some up and fed it in his mouth with the briefest of pauses while sucking me, bobbing his head in a well-oiled motion with his jaw moving briefly now and then to swallow his accumulating saliva. I scooted up on the bed, sliding out of his mouth briefly as I positioned my feet on boards along the side of the bed, and he scooted forward, squatting less. Saliva was now freely running down my cockshaft and balls, down on the bed as he open-mouthed my cock, head popping in and out of this throat, no hard suck at all but just pure throat fucking and grunting as he reveled in the length. I wasn’t about to cum, this was too enjoyable, and he now and then let the bed go to jack off his cock, then would pause after a few minutes.
I was in heaven with this furry pigbear just going to town with the sucking when there was noise outside, and an abrupt knock on the door. I heard Ken gurgle out a kind of “No” and doubled-down on his sucking, one hand now jacking my shaft while he sucked from base to tip of my cock, jacking himself at the same time. I put one leg over his shoulder to stabilize him while the click of the door unlocking echoed along with the slobbering slurping sounds, and then that was that. In walked the crew as Ken frantically worked my cock, and as I squeezed my pelvic muscles, I started my cum for him. Everyone watched, fully-clothed at the spectacle of the superb suck job, when goosebumps came over me, and Ken gurgled again, jacking off frantically as he tossed his head side-to-side sucking.
Wordlessly I looked at the guys, winking, when the cum started taking over my hips – I started bucking slightly, shaking as Ken instantly buried his face in my crotch, not breathing, but sucking and swallowing as more and more pressure built up in my groin. Whelen crouched down, watching me pumping cum into Ken’s throat as my hips shoved and rotated uncontrollably – there really is nothing quite like cumming while someone’s got your cock in their throat swallowing, and I heard the telltale plash of cum on the floor as Ken came again. The crew in the room groaned, and a moment later, Ken pulled back, coughing and gasping for air, as Whelen and Husbear helped him stand up. His chubby furry body, fat cock sticking out dripping cum, he couldn’t have looked more an animal, or tastier.
Whelan had to kiss me for some reason, his alcoholic breath washing over my face, and he pulled back, slightly red-eyed as the whole group quietly wobbled back into the main room. Ken sat on the bed, coughing slightly, shaking his head and mumbling, then pulled me back on the bed to kiss me, then hopped off to try to get saliva off his face, also slightly inebriated. I dressed, and went back out. “Guys,” I began, “We gotta get back to Campgrounds!” I think Ben and Larry were actually ready for bed, and big slobbery kisses passed among the six of us and promises to meet the next night at Daddy Weekend at Timberfell. Woof! What a strange evening! I got the guys back in the car, my crotch warm from the beautiful suck job, and with detailed instructions from Google, slowly got us back to Timberfell. And that damn song from Deliverance, banjo and guitar, was echoing the whole time in my head, I couldn’t get rid of it!