Having Sex Is A Good Treatment For Depression
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The Great Depression free porn video
Back in the nineteen thirties when the Great Depression hit hard, like so many young men I found myself on the bones of my arse. One afternoon as I passed by a farm I was starving. I simply couldn’t resist and soon found myself knocking at the front door.
All I had eaten over the previous few days was half a loaf of stale bread. It felt like my gut was attacking my mouth in a constant state of tumult, as I constantly salivated with hunger pangs. ‘Jesus… I have to have some food,’ I desperately thought.
As the front door opened a huge farmer glared at me. “Please, sir… I am starving,” I pleaded. “I am really very hungry.”
The eyes before me initially observed me with an angry expression, before softening somewhat. After a few moments of silence, the man smiled and said, “Come inside, boy.”
After moving his body to the side I sheepishly entered. “Sit down at the kitchen table,” he commanded.
After placing my shoulder bag next to the chair he ushered me to, my olfactory senses went into overdrive with the smell of cooking food. It smelt like meat and I couldn’t remember the last time I had tasted that delicacy. I began frantically swallowing my spit as my mouth started to drool, as my entire body trembled in anticipation. When the plate was put before me I had to restrain myself as never before, from simply sticking my head directly into the dish and sucking up the food.
After a brief, ‘Thank you, God’ missive, he invited me to dig in. It took every fibre of my being not to simply lift the plate and empty to contents down my gullet. ‘Food… fuckin’ glorious food,’ I thought. ‘Oh, Jesus… thank you, thank you, thank you,’ my mind concluded.
With great restraint, I tried to eat in a controlled fashion. “Times are hard,” the farmer finally said, before continuing, “Thank goodness Roosevelt is in the White House and trying to get the country back on its feet,” he concluded. I couldn’t give a fuck about politics; all I could think about was the wonderful food I was enjoying.
“Yes sir, you are right, sir,” I replied. Truthfully, my starving stomach had no allegiances.
After I had consumed my food, he said, “You stink, boy, we need to get yer cleaned up.”
“Sorry, sir,” was all I could offer in reply.
“Not yer fault. But in this house, we bathe once a week. On Sundays,” he proclaimed.
“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” I replied.
“What’s yer name?” he inquired.
“Maurice, sir,” I answered.
“No 'sirs' here, buddy, name’s Mac. My surname’s McDonald, but everyone just calls me Mac,” he explained.
“Should I call you Mr. McDonald, sir?” I questioned.
“Nah… Mac will do,” he concluded.
After supper, two large pots of hot water were poured into a tub that he had placed in the kitchen. After adding cold water he handed me a towel and a bar of soap. “Well… strip and get in the tub,” Mac ordered. After doing as I was told he collected my clothing, before emptying the contents of my bag. “I had better wash all your clothes, they sure need to be cleaned,” Mac announced before busying himself with the task.
“Thank you, sir… I mean Mac. I really appreciate what you are doing for me,” I said before I vigorously commenced washing.
“You can stay with me, and after we get yer strength up in a day or two you can do some hard work on the farm,” Mac proclaimed.
“Anything sir, I mean Mac… I’m a hard worker, I promise you,” I replied.
“Good,” Mac replied, with authority.
Judging Mac to be in his forties, I asked, “Were you ever married, Mac?”
“Nah, never had time for women… they’re just too much trouble, boy,” Mac answered.
After finishing in the tub I got out and towelled myself dry, before putting on the huge shirt that he had supplied for me. As I helped to dispose of the water in the tub, Mac said, “Toilet's out back, boy.”
After assisting Mac hanging my washing he said, “Only got one room and one bed in the house, so yer’ll be bunking with me, boy.”
“I am happy to sleep on the floor, Mac. That’s no problem for me,” I confirmed.
“Nah… that won’t be necessary,” he stated assertively. Finally arriving in the bedroom I was blown away by Mac’s huge bed. Picking up on my expression he laughed, and then said, “Yer think there’s enough room for yer on this bed?”
Smiling ecstatically I felt like I had just won a jackpot. I had food, a job, and a decent warm bed to sleep in… life just couldn’t be any better.
“I sleep naked, boy, hope that doesn’t affect yer sensitivities?” he reported.
“No… no problem sir,” I replied.
Mac was big and hairy. He did not have much body fat, but it was clear that he was very powerfully built. When his underpants were removed I was amazed by the size of his dick. It was thick and floppy. Shortly, we were both in bed. Before he extinguished the candle he gave me a benevolent look before saying, “It’s all going to be okay, boy.”
“Thank you, Mac,” I replied.
I slept like a baby that night. An earthquake would not have awoken me. The following morning we ate porridge, hot, glorious porridge. Before I could help myself, I began to cry. Mac then took me in his arms and then gently began rubbing my back. As he rocked my body in his arms the floodgates opened as I commenced sobbing.
“Yer going to be safe, boy, let it out. Mac will take care of you,” he intoned.
Blubbering like a baby, I kept blabbering, “Thank you,” over and over again.
After breakfast, Mac worked his farm as I tidied around the house. At lunchtime, we ate the leftovers from the previous night. That evening we had a hearty beef and vegetable soup that Mac had prepped at lunchtime. After dinner, we went to bed at around nine p.m.
After settling the bed Mac looked at me with his head propped up on one arm. “I’m very happy that yer has come into my life, Maurice,” he said, using my name for the very first time.
“Thank you for saving my life Mac,” I countered.
“How old are yer?” he asked.
“Seventeen,” I replied.
“I’m forty-four,” he replied, chuckling. “Yer could’ve been my son. What I really want from yer is more than just companionship and work,” he stated, before resuming, “I want loving. Like the loving between a man and woman,” he explained. With an intense gaze, he then resumed, “Are yer following me?”
As Mac moved in closer to me I could feel a distinct hardness against my leg.
“Yes, I understand, Mac,” I replied.
“Do yer fully understand, boy?” he countered, with a lustful look on his face.
“Yes, Mac,” I responded. “I’m willing to be your woman.
”I could no longer restrain myself and slid my hand down to his knob.
“Do you realize where I’ll be putting that thing?” he inquired.
“Yes, Mac, I’m willing to be your bitch,” I retorted.
I had always been sexually attracted to men, but in those days that was tantamount to heresy. I had, therefore, always refrained from any sexual encounters, however hard pressed by other males, for fear of being exposed as a sodomite. Mac now leaned over and began kissing me. It was very gentle and loving.
Next, lifting his head he looked at me and said, “Now I’m the one who’s starving… starving for you, boy.”
“Then feed on me, Mac,” I replied.
Mac moved his body onto me, and placing his arms under my arms, took hold of my head. Mac’s kissing then intensified as he began licking my eyes, nose, lips, and ears. I loved his domination and could not believe how good my life had become. His mastery over me was an honour and I was willing to go to hell and back for him.
My meagre reciprocal actions were nothing compared to the last twenty-four hours of bliss that I had come to know. Hell had turned into a heaven for me and I felt like the luckiest person on the planet. The torment I had endured prior to leaving my parental home and the ensuing hardship I had endured was evaporating by the second.
As Mac took complete control of me I had never felt more loved or contented. Perhaps the affection I had always yearned for from my indifferent father had finally come to pass. I willingly gave my body to my new, benevolent benefactor, and he could use me as he saw fit.
After our lengthy make-out session, Mac lifted his body and asked me to turn onto my stomach. After hearing him spit repeatedly, I felt his warm cock slither between my butt cheeks. As his fat knob began to slide between my mounds, I knew that the day I had always anticipated had arrived. I tried to relax with all my might as his huge cockhead began to tease my virgin arse. “Just relax, baby,” he said as the annexation of my manhole got underway. “This will hurt a bit at first.”
I wanted him in me. I wanted the pain and pleasure that I knew would follow. “Fuck me, daddy,” I implored.
As his excavation became more urgent I broke into a cold sweat. I was sore, but it was awesome. “Yes,” I cried, “Fuck me, daddy, make me your woman.”
Grunting, Mac began to vigorously spear into me. I wanted the invasion and begged him to show me no mercy. My panting groans invited his onslaught as I encouraged his pounding. Grunting he hammered into me with horny growls. Pleasure and pain had never felt this good. After an era of thumping, his body convulsed as he unloaded into me. We had become one, and I would be the partner he had always yearned for.
The sheet beneath me bore witness to the pleasure he had given me. I never had to take myself in hand when Mac fucked me. The stimulation of his monstrous dick always took me over the edge. To my delight, I also learned that his libido was epic and we always had more sex in a week, than most people had in a month.
Mac and I lived together for thirty happy years. Two years after he passed I heard a knock at my front door. As I opened the door, a dishevelled and good-looking young man asked me, “Please sir, don’t you have work for me?”
Smiling, I invited him in. “Sit at the table, boy,” I said, before serving him lunch and offering him a job.
Mikhaela
- 01.09.2021
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