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Hardy free porn video
My dad had a stepbrother named Hardy. Hardy was actually his surname and his first name was Harold, but he hated his first name and always insisted on being referred to as Hardy.
My dad, Arnie, and Hardy became stepbrothers when they were sixteen-years-old. With both their parents being divorcees, Hardy’s mother married my grandfather. The two boys had been born three months apart and had not only become stepbrothers after the marriage of their parents, but also best friends.
Two years later, after their graduation from high school, my dad attended university to study dentistry and Hardy attended a technical college. Resultantly, they went their separate ways. Hardy moved to a faraway city in pursuit of his trade, and that was also where he also finally settled. As a result of this, I had very little interaction with Hardy growing up and therefore, he was somewhat of a phantom figure in my life. All knowledge I had of him was by way of family pictures and anecdotes from my father.
I did meet Hardy once when I was around seven-years-old but recollected very little of that meeting other than that he was a large man.
Hardy and my father always remained in contact throughout their adult lives and they would Skype one another at least once a month. Apart from that, they also got together at least twice a year. My dad annually visited an orthodontic and dentist trade show that was held in the city where Hardy lived, and in addition, they always met for an annual week-long fishing trip. Hardy never married and always lived alone.
Being as academically challenged as I was, much to my father’s disappointment, my dad began to suggest that I should move in with Hardy once I had completed my high school career. He felt that I needed to learn a proper trade. As it so happened, Hardy worked for a company that made components for firearms. The company that Hardy worked for were very successful and had contracts that were secured for the following ten years. Being as adept as I was with my hands, rather than with my brain, my dad saw this as a perfect solution to my scholastic inadequacies.
Hardy was totally amenable to my father’s suggestion and two weeks after my high school career ended, I was on an aircraft and headed to the city where Hardy lived and worked.
At his workplace Hardy was considered a genius, and as I would soon come to know even the CEO of the company was in awe of Hardy’s brilliance. Hardy ran his division at the company with the exacting precision of a top-notch officer. In addition, the men that work for him were unquestionably loyal and in total awe of him.
A further facet concerning Hardy, which I would soon come to know, was that he was a rather pungent individual. Hardy sweated profusely and by noon each day, he had an overpowering male essence. Ironically, much as his staff admired him, he had the unflattering nickname of ‘Hardy-Hum.’ This, of course, was behind his back.
Before getting too far ahead of myself, let me regress slightly.
Upon meeting me at the airport on Tuesday at nine p.m., Hardy enthusiastically embraced me. Then and there, I was instantly introduced to the odour that would become part of my everyday existence. To add to that, in the confinement of Hardy’s vehicle, my olfactory senses were further heightened by his powerful pong. I wasn’t appalled by his tang, and the fact that he was a really hot looking bear substantially diminished my discomfort.
All the sports activities in high school had always conditioned me to the fact that guys can be a little ripe from time to time. Hardy, however, took odour to a higher level.
As we drove ‘home,’ I recalled my mother’s odd comments over the years when she alluded to my dad’s smelly stepbrother. This, of course, had never really sunk in because Hardy had never been a part of our everyday domestic existence. I had always got the impression that my mother wasn’t sad about Hardy’s absence from our lives, but it was clear my dad adored Hardy.
My mother was a disciplinarian and ruled the roost in our home. Because of my dad’s busy and successful practice, I was never allowed to play the; ‘if mom says no, then maybe dad will say yes,’ game. Now, thankfully, after becoming an adult, hopefully, the confines of my former structured life had finally ended. I knew I was gay and hoped that Hardy would be less domineering than my mother had been.
As my thoughts kept turning over in my mind as we drove, I wondered about my new life. I was rather nervous about how it would unfold. Would I get on well with Hardy? Would he give me the space I needed to ‘explore’ my social needs? I hoped like hell that my apprenticeship would be successful and that I wouldn’t let Hardy or my dad down. One more nagging thought was; how would I cope with his pungent disposition?
When we finally entered Hardy’s home I was amazed by how tidy it was. It was clear that it was a man’s home, devoid of all the cushions and throws that a feminine touch proffered. I, of course, loved the austerity of his decorating style, having always been irritated by the abundance of cushions and fabric on every sofa or chair, in my mother’s overtly sumptuous home, where one always felt like you were swathed in an abundance of unnecessary fabric.
There was, of course, a heady odour permeating his home, but this was negated by the monster television and the masculine austerity of the decor. “Fuck yeah,’ I thought… 'this is a man’s pad.'
After our arrival, Hardy showed me to my room where I dropped my suitcases. After returning to the living area, I walked around and imbibed the atmosphere.
Hardy had disappeared to his room and when he finally emerged, he was barefoot and only wearing a t-shirt and shorts. This as I would see, this was a daily practice.
Because of my late arrival, we had both eaten dinner and so we relaxed in the lounge, each with a beer in hand.
After a brief bit of chitchat about family, etcetera, Hardy decided to be upfront and explain the lay of the land as far as his odorous disposition was concerned. Contritely, he explained himself as follows:
“Robbie, as you have no doubt heard, and obviously after meeting me at the airport have realized, I have a body odour problem.”
I felt inclined to interject at this point and untruthfully assure him that it really wasn’t a problem for me, but decided to go with my instinct, and for once, I keep my mouth shut.
Hardy then went into a litany of how this was totally beyond his control. Because of skin allergies, he couldn’t use any antiperspirant or perfumed products. Although he generally showered twice a day, it didn’t really help much. Ruefully, Hardy then told me that as if that wasn’t enough, he also had really smelly feet and that was why he always went to the bathroom to wash them, upon arriving home, because even he couldn’t cope with that pong. Further elaborating on his story, he said that he was always barefoot at home, because without the confinement of shoes and socks, at least his foot odour was tolerable after he had washed them.
Benignly, I simply shrugged in an; ‘it’s no problem for me’ manner.
In acknowledgment of my gesture, he then continued, “I am very excited about you coming to live with me and I want you to be as happy and comfortable as possible. Please, never feel shy to tell me when I need to take a shower because I really won’t be offended,” Hardy concluded.
“Sure,” I politely responded.
It had been an exhausting and intriguing day. As we continued chatting after Hardy’s revelation, tiredness overcame me and gave an involuntary yawn.
Picking up on my insinuation, Hardy smiled and said, “I think it’s time for time for bed, buddy. We get up at six in this household,” he then concluded, with a laugh.
Gratefully, I went to my room and was asleep the minute my head hit the pillow.
By the time I was awoken the following day, Hardy had already showered and had breakfast on the go.
One of the benefits of the company that employed us was that they had a really excellent canteen with excellent food at unbelievably modest prices. During the week, it simply didn’t pay one to eat your major meal at home in the evenings. Resultantly, we mostly bought a variety of modest takeaways en-route home, from Mondays to Fridays.
As I would also come to know, on weekends Hardy liked to cook. Saturdays usually consisted of a barbeque and on Sundays, a proper formal meal with a roast and all the salads and vegetables associated with this ritual was prepared.
In addition, at least once a month Hardy would take me out for a really great Sunday lunch. He had built up a host of favourite venues over the years and these country spots served great food and were always located in great settings.
My first day on the job proved to be very enjoyable, and my all my trepidation about my apprenticeship was completely negated. I instantly took to my fellow workers who turned out to be a great bunch of guys. Although the management was aware of Hardy and my connection, Hardy thought it prudent to downplay our association. He did not want accusations of nepotism levelled at him. Resultantly, as far as my fellow workers were concerned, he was simply helping me out with accommodation until I could get onto my own two feet.
For the following two evenings after my arrival, things pretty much went to form. Firstly, after consuming our takeaways, we sat in the lounge with a beer in hand watching television. Hardy always occupied the large three seater couch, and I sat on the comfy chair to the left of him with an adequate view of the television screen.
The two things that intrigued me during this period were; that I seemed to become less sensitive to Hardy’s body odour, and secondly, there was a subtle escalation in his ‘affection’ toward me. Hardy regularly had one or the other of his hands, either stroking my arms or my back as we milled around the kitchen. His touch was also far more delicate and sensual than the boisterous friendliness of two buddies. Hardy also confessed during the course of the two nights that had never come close to marrying.
On Friday evening, with the weekend upon us, Hardy was extremely chilled. We did not work on weekends. As we sat that evening sipping our third beer, I was invited to sit next to him on the sofa.
With his hand sensually massaging my shoulder, he said, “Jesus, Robbie, I cannot tell you how much you remind me of your dad.” There was a strange affection in his voice. After a pause, he continued, “Your dad and I have always had… and still, have a very special relationship.”
The conversation was now becoming a little weird for me. 'What the fuck was he saying? Had he and my father always been lovers?' Although I was finding Hardy hotter by the day, he was still my step-uncle, for fuck sake! Sure… we weren’t related by blood, but nonetheless, it was unnerving.
After three beers my normal reserve had substantially diminished. I was stunned, confused, and perplexed. I thought about my mother. Did she know or suspect what was going on between Hardy and my father?
‘What the fuck is going on?’ I pondered.
Unable to hold back and on an overwhelming impulse I blurted, “Do you and my dad fuck one another when you get together?”
“That’s none of your business,” Hardy retorted, in a defensive and somewhat annoyed fashion.
With the realization of my situation dawning on me, I immediately backed down. I was living with Hardy and being sponsored by him. Above all, I was also employed and learning a trade, thanks to him.
“You’re right. Sorry, Hardy,” I answered timidly, “I’m afraid this third beer has gone to my head. I think I need to go to bed.”
“Your dad knows you’re gay,” Hardy retorted almost challengingly, as I got up off the sofa.
“What...? How?” I stammered, looking at him with contempt.
“Apparently the gallery on your mobile phone is a dead giveaway,” he answered, with a smirk on his face.
With the stunned look of a deer caught in the headlights, I answered, “I’m really tired. Goodnight, Hardy.”
Over the previous few evenings, neither Hardy nor I had ever closed our bedroom doors when retiring to bed. This night, however, I suppose in an act of defiance, I did. As I lay on my bed my mind was in a spin. Had my dad been spying on me? Why the fuck had he checked out my phone? As I lay there in turmoil I wondered why my father had sent me to live with Hardy. Was I a fuckin’ surrogate offering to my father’s biannual lover?
‘Jesus,’ I thought, ‘this is so fucked up.’
Uncomfortably, I drifted off into a restless sleep.
I am not sure how much time passed before I awoke with Hardy sitting next to me on my bed and stroking my back.
I was startled initially, but Hardy then soothingly said, “Relax, buddy, I know you’ve had a lot to take in tonight.”
As I began to sob, Hardy kept stroking my back. “I really want you, Robbie… Jesus… I fuckin’ need you, baby,” he then quietly said.
After a pause, he continued, “I know I’m a smelly oaf and most probably too old for you, but if you can cope with that, well, you know where my bedroom is. If I don’t do it for you sexually, nothing will change in our relationship. I promise you… It’s your call.”
Hardy then got up and left for his room. In a respectful manner, he closed the door behind him as he left.
I continued to cry after he departed. Everything about the events of the evening had begun to overwhelm me. Yes… I fuckin’ wanted him, but the ‘dad’ factor had thrown a huge spoke in the wheels. It was just incredibly weird! Overcome with emotion, I finally drifted off into a restless sleep.
The following morning when I joined Hardy in the kitchen I sheepishly greeted him. He had a benign look on his face as he welcomed me. As I stood like a crestfallen idiot staring at him, he moved over and hugged me warmly. The comfort of his embrace was exhilarating.
First, he kissed me on my forehead before saying, “This has nothing to do with your dad. I want you, baby, Christ, I need you. I have waited so long for this moment.”
Hardy’s lips now moved toward my mouth before he sensually kissed me. “Please give me a chance,” he murmured before our lips parted and encompassed one another.
“I want you too,” I blabbered, as our lips finally parted.
With a smile, Hardy then said, “We’ll take things slow. No pressure, Robbie, as slow as you are comfortable with.”
After tousling my hair he continued, “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah,” I replied.
That day we went grocery shopping and had a wonderful day together. After what would become a traditional barbeque, we eventually settled in the lounge. Enwrapped in his arms, we watched television together.
That night as Hardy suggested we head off to bed. He took hold of my arm and steered me toward the main bedroom.
The moment of truth had arrived and nervous as I was, I wanted to give myself to him. I still had apprehension about what lay ahead.
“What happens when my dad arrives in a month’s time,” I asked after he kissed me next to his bed.
“Well, then Arnie will mostly be staying in your room. It’s all about you and me from now on,” Hardy matter-of-factly replied. “Nothing weird will happen, buddy, I promise you,” he concluded.
“I don’t want to come between…” I tried to say before Hardy placed his finger over my lips.
“As I said, it’s about you and me from here on,” he persuasively concluded.
Hardy now took control of the situation.
“Relax, Robbie, just go with the flow,” Hardy informed me with a comforting smile.
As we undressed I got my first real look at him naked. Hardy was the epitome of masculinity. He was broad, hunky, and hung. His cock was thick and meaty, and his balls were heavy and chunky. I was both nervous and excited by what I observed.
My sex life had been very limited up to that point, and hand jobs and blowjobs encompassed my repertoire. Naturally, I had often dreamed about the full-on anal experience, but thus far never ventured into that realm. Since growing up, I had seen a great many guys naked and had often wondered what anal penetration would feel like. Hardy’s equipment, however, made me feel like I was embarking on an advanced course, before even working my way through the beginner’s schedule.
Unable to restrain myself I said, “Jesus, Hardy, you’re fuckin’ huge.”
Hardy then smiled at me with a look of embarrassment, before shrugging apologetically.
“We’ll take it real slow and easy,” he replied, “I promise."
My body was once more enwrapped by his large frame as he encompassed me. I felt like I had gone to heaven as he clamped my body and commenced kissing me. Hardy’s smell had also transformed from a damp squib to a full-on sensual symphony. His ripe stench was practically making me hyperventilate with horniness.
Next, Hardy discovered my greatest weakness. I was incredibly ticklish. After ‘abusing’ my neck and shoulders with me squirming like an excited puppy, Hardy then attacked my armpits. With his powerful hands holding me down, I squealed raucously as he further ‘tormented’ me. By the time he took hold of my feet, one after the other, I was squealing like a piglet.
It was as if he knew every ‘weakness’ I possessed. I would only later learn that I was a carbon copy of my father and that this ritual had been played out many times before.
After Hardy had softened me up, I was finally turned onto my stomach before he ultimately entered my backside. Although I had anticipated the strain that this would result in, strangely it was like a rite of passage that I had always dreamed about. My cries as he plundered me were affirmative moans of acceptance. The hurt was the ultimate highpoint of my anticipated defloration. Fortunately, Hardy used a generous dose of lubrication and his entry was less traumatic than I had feared.
When Hardy finally commenced thrusting into me, the carnality of his animal fragrance intensified and eventually smelled like it had been fermenting in his arteries all day long. I loved the anal battering, as he fucked me into another dimension. I groaned lasciviously as got ravished in a primitive manner, with the stench of my ‘tormentor’ hanging over us like a blanket of primeval supremacy. Hardy was a fantastic lover and his stamina knew no boundaries. Above all, I was now completely intoxicated by his stench.
With the ice having been broken, there were two things about Hardy that I now came to know. Firstly, he was incredibly highly sexed and most nights I was fucked relentlessly by him. The second aspect of our interactions, that he systematically began to reveal, was that Hardy was totally into rough and controlling intercourse. Spitting on and slapping my face was a penchant that he thrived upon. The more I squirmed and ‘pleaded’ with him, the more turned on he became. Amazingly, I absolutely loved the physicality of his approach and bleated like a distressed calf to incite his animalistic predilections.
With every encounter, Hardy upped the ante of his physical approach. I got spanked harder and harder, and even my genitals got smacked regularly. I was becoming a total S & M acolyte and never held back on my vocal contribution in our performances, fuelling Hardy to ever-escalating new heights. The bruises I constantly bore were like medals of confirmation to me. I knew that my father had set me up as a surrogate with his stepbrother, and I could not have been happier.
Speaking of my dad, when he finally visited a few months later, in order to attend his annual trade show, I have to admit that I was very nervous.
After we had consumed the takeaway dinner that my father had brought along, we sat in the lounge and chatted. Much as I was delighted by dad’s visit, I respectfully excused myself after a while, to allow Hardy and Arnie to catch up on old times.
When I was awoken much later, I was stunned when Arnie had pulled up a chair next to the bed as Hardy mounted my body. Even more mindboggling was watching my dad stroking his dick as Hardy entered my portal. It was like something out of the twilight zone. My father now went into vocal overdrive as he commenced issuing instructions.
“Yeah, Hardy, fuck this boy. Fuck him hard. I told you I was going to surrender my boy to you and now you own him. Fuck my surrogate offering and show him how hard his dad likes it.”
Hardy was not going to let my dad down and instantly commenced slapping and spitting on me as he pummelled his dick brutally into me. I was practically breathless when he finally unloaded with my father roaring his approval.
As soon as Hardy got off me, I got up and straightforwardly announced that I was heading off to the spare bedroom. Much as Hardy had broadened my sexual boundaries, incest was definitely not a boundary that I was prepared to cross. Happily, no protests were forthcoming.
En-route to the spare bedroom I quickly visited the guest bathroom. Once done, my curiosity got the better of me and I peeped in at the main bedroom. My dad was on the floor and Hardy, who had not thus far removed his socks and shoes that evening, was rubbing one of his smelly feet in my father’s face. My father was reverently licking Hardy’s foot like a contented puppy. Soon, the other foot followed.
‘Oh, fuck!’ I thought, ‘Is this also a ritual that is on the cards for me, henceforth?’
I watched stunned, and when my dad was finally thrown onto the bed, Hardy’s fists went to work on my father’s torso. My dad was in total ecstasy and began to beg for more.
‘Jesus,’ I thought, ‘Is this also going to happen to me.’
As I watched, my cock was harder than it had ever been.
Elouise
- 23.07.2022
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