Putrid Dad free porn video

A month or two had passed since my chance encounter with
Dad at the motel. He never mentioned the episode again
and shied away from every attempt of mine to broach the
subject. It had created a tension between us which badly
needed breaking for both of our sakes -after all, we were
the only family we had left.

The opportunity came when I had to look out my graduation
certificates when I was applying for a job. “They’re in
the den” said Dad “Look in the desk drawers.” He had
converted our basement room into his study/den and the
main item of furniture is one of those massive old-time
roll-top desks -you know, the one the sheriff always has
in his office in westerns.

I tried all of the drawers in turn until I came to the
bottom drawer, which, in my haste, I pulled hard out so
that it hit the stops. All the drawers are really deep,
so that things tucked at the back rarely see the light of
day. Right at the back, behind a homemade wood partition,
I saw about 6 or 7 videotapes. From their size and shape
I realised that they were the old Betamax type, long gone
from the stores. Glancing up, I saw our old Betamax-
player still on the shelf -Dad NEVER throws anything away
I thought, as I replaced the drawer and went back up with
my certificates.

For the next few days I puzzled over those tapes: We
didn’t own a video camera until fairly recently and
anyway, if they were ‘family’ tapes, why would Dad hide
them away so carefully? I didn’t want to play them in
secret -I guess I’m not that sneaky, but I really did
want to know what was on them! It was only a few days ago
that I finally found out: Late afternoon I was helping
dad on the garage roof -the winter gales we’ve had
recently had lifted quite a few shingles- when our
conversation came round to the movie we had all been to
see the night before: “I might get the video when it
comes out.” Said Dad. “Sure, it’ll be good to watch it
again.” I said. Then -after a deep breath. “I wouldn’t
mind watching those old Beta tapes, either!” (I can’t
believe I just said that! I thought in panic.)

There was a pause, then Dad muttered, “Oh…. so you’ve
found them…. They belong to Uncle Bob…I must give
them back sometime.” Dad doesn’t lie a lot -he’s not very
good at it and I knew that this was one of those times.
“OK” I said casually (although my throat still felt tight
with anticipation) “But make sure you let me see them
first!” He must have read something in my voice, because
he just nodded slowly and turned back to his hammering
and the subject was closed.

Later that evening, Dad and I cleared up and settled down
for an evening alone. I’m still waiting to hear about my
job and I started to read up on the company while Dad was
watching some garbage on TV. He was obviously getting as
bored as I was and said over-casually. “You still want to
watch a video?” (YES! – I could hardly stop myself from
giving an air-punch.) But I said equally casually “Sure,
why not.”

The den is next door to the boiler and warm -too warm for
me- so I slipped off my tee-shirt and made myself
comfortable on the old chesterfield. The leather felt
warm on my naked back as I watched Dad set up the big
silver Betamax video.

I remember noticing that the Sony badge had fallen off
the front, but everything else seemed to be working fine.
The screen was high up on the shelf next to the player
and caught the glare of the main light, so Dad switched
on a small reading lamp instead and the den became
gloomy. The first video was not very good -a poor quality
copy of an n’th degree copy, but the second one was great
and we both watched spellbound as some good-looking guys
wanked and sucked and generally horsed around. The second
part featured a trio of handsome black guys who started
to stroke themselves and each other into a frenzy.

I was only wearing a pair of jogging pants and when I
slipped my hand down past the waistband to clutch at my
aching balls I saw Dad glance over and give me a shy
smile. In the gloom I heard a click as he undid the
fastner of his jeans and the quiet “zeep” as he opened
the fly. He lifted himself off the chesterfield and
slipped his jeans down to his knees, his white legs
catching a greenish glow from the lampshade as he sat
back. His cock was already standing stiff above a jungle
of thick hair which glistened in the soft light and his
ball sack drooped low, resting on the leather seat
between his spread thighs.

Taking his cue, I quickly slid my pants down and we both
sat there, each waiting for the other to make a move.
Eventually, after a long pause, Dad’s fingers slipped
over his cock and began to stroke gently up and down,
making his balls bounce lightly against the leather seat
with a quiet slapping sound. He kept glancing over at me
and watched with a slight smile as I began my favorite
two-handed stroke.

The black guys were still sporting with each other and I
remember thinking enviously “Why does God gift only some
guys with cocks like that?”

I saw Dad’s hand begin to move faster and faster in
rhythm with the show on the screen, so I reached over
placed my hand over his and stopped him, shaking my head
and mouthing “Not yet”. He twitched nervously at my first
touch of his penis but he loosened his grip reluctantly
and we both went back to our stroking. But now it was
different: It was my hand firmly wrapped around Dad’s
thick cock while he was making his first tentative
exploration of mine.

Not long after, the video finished and Dad’s hand slipped
away from me and he looked at me enquiringly. I noticed
the appeal in his eyes -he didn’t want this to end any
more than I did. My mouth had gone dry, so I only smiled
and nodded “Yes” and he got up to get another tape out of
the desk drawer, holding up his drooping pants with one
hand. While he was busy, I went up to the kitchen to get
us some beers, hoping that one of us had remembered to
draw the shades, since I was nekkid as a jaybird and it’s
a nice neighborhood.

When I returned downstairs, Dad had stripped off his
jeans and check shirt and was lying naked on the couch. I
noticed with some pride that he hadn’t let himself slide
into that middle-aged flab you see on so many older guys
and his body was still in good shape. He was lying full
length with his eyes tight shut, one hand lifting his
balls while with the other he pinched at the tip of his
long foreskin, stretching and relaxing it in a slow
insistent rhythm: He hadn’t missed me, that’s for sure!

I put the beers down and knelt beside him, gently moving
his fingers away and replacing them with my mouth. As I
began to explore him, he began to lift and buck his body
in time with my sucking, all the time giving out little
grunts and gasps of pleasure. When he had relaxed, I held
him gently between finger and thumb while I burrowed
through the hood of his foreskin with until I found the
smooth silky meat beneath, feeling the soft outer skin
stretch as I slid my tongue from side to side.

I used all the tricks I had learned from my jerking days
at college, so that soon Dad was whimpering with ecstasy
as I gave him my all. I had always loved my Dad, but
never so deeply as then and I felt a desperate need to
prove to him that his son could give him that height of
pleasure only another male can give.

He arm slid off the couch and I felt his fingers scrabble
across my belly, catching and tugging at my bush,
searching and urgent. As I shifted round to face him, I
couldn’t keep back a groan of delight as I felt his cool
fingers fold round me. He tugged on me gently, lifting
me, so I straightened my legs until I was leaning over
his chest in a sort of stooped crouch. I felt the brief
rasp of his whiskers on the sensitive tip of my cock as
he drew me into his waiting mouth. (Dammit Dad, why
couldn’t you have shaved first!) I thought, before I was
engulfed. We stayed like that for a long time-a father
and son lost in the wonder and enjoyment of sharing each
other’s bodies.

It was a good hour later when we could take no more and
sat facing each other, watching our separate strings of
sperm make a glistening crisscross on the old blanket we
had placed on the floor, while on the shelf, the old
Betamax video sat hissing to itself, its tape long
finished. I was so aroused that some of my cumming had
splattered over my old man’s thighs, but his hadn’t quite
reached me -his sperm was thicker and tended to bubble
out, rather than spurt in a thin jet like mine. We had
been sitting cross-legged for some time so that when Dad
got up get a box of Kleenex from the desk he moved
stiffly and I could see little pearls of my sperm
glistening on the curly hairs of his legs. As we wiped
ourselves off we smiled at each other, both wondering
what to do or say next.

Now it was all over, I guess we both were going through
that post-sex feeling when, for a while; your body seems
to lose interest. I saw that Dad was getting embarrassed,
searching behind him for his discarded clothes -was he
already regretting this lapse with his only son? If I
didn’t do or say something, he’d retreat back into his
shy, repressed, shell and I’d never know another
wonderful session together. Impulsively I went over and
hugged him hard, feeling the warmth of his groin press
softly against mine -the hug I got in return told me that
I had done exactly the right thing.

By now it was in the early hours when we both showered
and went off to bed -not together, I’m sorry to say – I
guess Dad still makes the rules there. I slept soundly
for the rest of the night and for once, I didn’t wake up
with my morning flagpole salute. This morning, Dad has
been his usual self and hasn’t mentioned last night, but
the occasional shy smile he gives me tells me that last
night won’t really be our last.

*

Some months have passed since my first wonderful
encounter with my Dad in the den. Since then I can’t say
that we’ve had as many sessions as I would have liked,
but he is a lot more relaxed now. Even so, his shyness
still wont allow him to talk much about them, so we have
developed a sort of signal code which doesn’t need words.
Often it’s just a raised eyebrow and a quick glance at
the door leading to his den that tells me when he’s in
the mood. We still watch the old Betamax tapes -It’s
become almost a tradition although we both know every
scene off by heart.

We had just finished a short but intense session and were
dressing to face the real world once more after our
latest fantasy trip. I watched as Dad carefully stripped
the last few drops of cum from under his long foreskin
and tuck himself back into his shorts. As he dropped the
damp Kleenex into the bin, he looked up at me and said
casually. “When we next visit Bob I’ll ask him if he’s
got any more tapes we can borrow.” My ears pricked up at
the “we” part – I was definitely being included in the
deal.

Uncle Bob is my Dad’s older brother by a year or so and
he runs the family farm in the next state. I had
virtually grown up there and spent every summer playing
with my cousins and helping round the farm. For me, no
summer camp could ever compare with life on the farm and
the carefree evenings we shared after a day’s work. I
hadn’t visited much while I was away at college though,
and during that time my three cousins had either moved on
or gotten themselves married, leaving Uncle Bob to run
things alone except for a few migrant hands.

It was some weeks later that Dad and I took the long
highway to visit with Bob. I was in my final year and
would be staying on, but Dad would have to return to work
at the end of the weekend. The miles drifted by until we
finally turned off onto the long blacktop that led up to
the farm. The long journey had made me feel incredibly
horny -the movement of the car and long periods of
inactivity always seems to have that effect on me
together and I had already had the hint that this visit
could turn into something special.

Several times during the drive I slid my hand into my
pants to rearrange myself, but Dad was too busy driving
to notice and didn’t suggest we make a ‘comfort stop’
along the way, so I just nursed my aching balls in silent
agony. Eventually the familiar white gates came into view
and we turned down the track to the long, low farmhouse
that was Uncle Bob’s home. He had seen the lights of our
approaching car from a long way off and stood waiting for
us on the porch steps.

He isn’t the typical image of a rancher; no dungarees or
straw hat for him. He’s stocky and tanned with curly hair
that was just beginning to go gray round the temples. He
was wearing a smartly pressed check shirt -and were those
designer jeans tucked into his polished boots? He and Dad
had earned the reputation as being a pair of hell-raisers
in their youth and they had remained close buddies into
their middle age, so the welcome we both got was warm and
genuine and we were ushered into the house, where Carrie,
Bob’s Filipino housekeeper, had prepared a gigantic meal.

*

For the next two days, Bob kept us well fed and
entertained and we spent most of the daylight hours
exploring the beautiful country around the ranch. Church
on Sunday gave me the opportunity to meet up with a lot
of old friends and I was quick to notice that some of the
girls I remembered as gawky teenagers had bloomed into
real lookers. I collected no end of invitations to visit
-my vacation was getting off to a good start already.

Sunday evening came and Dad left for the long journey
home. Bob and I watched his departing plume of dust as it
trailed all the way up to the highway. A gorgeous sunset
had thrown the distant mountains into sharp relief and
cast long shadows over the upland pastures. Freed from
the smell and sounds of the city, this was a paradise for
me -and now there was only me and Uncle Bob left to share
it. I was roused from my romantic mood by the sharp hiss
of an opening beer-can which was thrust into my hand with
a smile.

“Sometimes I think that there can never be another
evening as good as this.” Bob opined. “But sure as hell,
along comes another even better the next day.” He had
caught my mood exactly and I nodded slowly saying
nothing. We made ourselves comfortable on the porch
chairs and watched the sun setting over the ridgeback of
hills. A set of lights turned off the highway and made
their way down the track towards us. “That’ll be my new
foreman.” Said Bob. “I told him to come up for a beer
after he has checked the stock.”

I gave him a quick look of surprise – he was generally
reckoned to be a good boss but I’d never known him to
socialize with his farmhands before. Seeing my surprise,
he added. “You’ll like him, he’s different.” A dusty red
pickup turned off into the yard and we heard the door
slam. A while later a figure approached from the barn,
climbing the long flight of steps up to the house. Just
as Uncle Bob was no typical rancher, his foreman was not
the grizzled old-timer that I had imagined either. He was
tall and lithe with the high cheekbones and long black
hair that declared his Native American ancestry. Peter
Long Wolf was very proud of his Nez Perce roots and I was
to learn that he had inherited all his peoples’ legendary
skill with horses. No wonder he got along so well with
Bob -they were soul mates.

The introductions over, Peter settled himself in one of
the chairs and helped himself to a waiting bottle of
Coors. From his casual manner, I gathered that this had
become something of an evening ritual for them both. As
Peter savoured his first beer of the day, I studied him
closely, trying to guess at his age.

His smooth unlined face made it difficult, but I finally
put him in his mid-thirties. Until then, my only contact
with Native Americans had been at my local drive-in, and
this guy, with his long ponytail and richly decorated
shirt, could have starred in any screen western.
Realising that I was staring, I busied myself with my
beer while he and Bob began to plan the work for the next
day. “I’ll head into town and pick up those trailer
tires.” Bob said, adding. “Perhaps Mark here would like
to ride out with you to check the out-bye herd.” I caught
the hint of a strange smile on Peter’s face as he nodded
his agreement. Thinking he was about to poke fun at a
tenderfoot, I said defensively. “It’s been a while since
I last sat a horse.”

“I can take the pickup if you like.” Peter replied. “But
your ass might be just as sore by the end of the day!” I
joined in their laughter, not appreciating the joke at
the time.

I was up early the next day and made my way down to the
barn where Peter was already waiting. He had selected a
gentle old roan mare for me and after an hour or so my
riding skills returned and I relaxed in the saddle and
began to enjoy the countryside. Peter kept the pace slow,
although I guess he could have made far better time on
his own, but it gave me time to get to know him. He
didn’t seem much into casual conversation at first, but
as the day grew older he began to open up and I started
to get more than a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to my many questions.

He told me about his life as a boy on the reservation
lands, where money and opportunities were scarce and how
his father had left the family never to return, leaving
his mother to bring up a family of seven alone. Peter had
been shipped off to a State boarding school at an early
age and from the little he said, I guess it had been
pretty tough. Dragged away from his tribal culture and
forbidden even to speak his own language, it was to his
credit that he had not become resentful or bitter but had
gone on to do well. He left school for agricultural
college, gaining a string of diplomas along the way.
After a disastrous marriage, he had struck out on his
own, first as a traveling rodeo rider and then as a
combine driver, following the ripening grain ever
northward up the Mid-West Corn Belt.

Although he never mentioned it, I suspected that he had
run into a lot of discrimination in his time and he spoke
warmly of the easy-going Bob who treated him with genuine
friendship and mutual respect.

It had taken most of the morning to prise Peter’s life
story from him and by the time he had finished, our trail
had led us to the outlying herd. While Peter busied
himself checking them over, I went down to the riverbank
deciding to cool off with a swim. The feel of the water
on my naked skin was a real tonic and I stayed in until
the chill finally got to me and I made for the bank to
dry off. I was just rubbing myself down with my shirt
when a deep voice growled. “How! Paleface!”

Startled, I looked up to see Peter grinning down at me.
Dammit, I hadn’t heard a sound. Definitely an Indian
thing! I thought. He tied up his horse next to mine and
made his way down the slope, remarking dryly.

“Better not stay like that too long in this sun or you
could get burnt in some funny places!” Then he walked
round me, studying me appraisingly, as if I was one of
his prize heifers.

I felt my cock begin to react to his inspection and tried
to hide it under my damp shirt, but his sharp eyes missed
nothing and I saw a faint grin appear on his impassive
face. Ignoring my growing embarrassment (which wasn’t the
only thing still growing) he sat down on a low rock and
pulled off his boots. I heard a sharp click as the buckle
of his belt hit the rock as he slipped his jeans down his
long legs.

Like many experienced male riders, I could see that he
was wearing a jockstrap under his shorts, which, much to
my disappointment, he kept on as he made his way gingerly
down the stony bank and into the cool water. He plunged
forward, his long hair floating behind him on the surface
and water droplets sparkling on his brown back. He wasn’t
a great swimmer and after a few minutes he made his way
towards the bank. I watched keenly as he stood up in the
shallows, silvery trails of water trickling down his arms
and chest. Dam’ that jockstrap, I thought as I tried to
imagine what lay hidden in that well-filled black pouch.

He waded out onto the bank, wringing the water from his
hair and lay down beside me. Was that just a little too
close? I thought hopefully. He drew his knees up close to
his chin and I heard a kind of elastic snap as he slid
the damp jockstrap down his long legs. He looked over at
me with a smile that was half-teasing, half-mocking as he
dropped the flimsy garment by his side with a slight
flourish of his hand. Dammit, he must have known exactly
what I had been thinking!

What the hell, I thought. My uncontrollable cock had
already given me away so I gave up pretending and studied
the naked brown body beside me with growing excitement.
He was hairless except for a halo of thick black hair
around the root of his cock, which seemed much darker
skinned than the rest of his brown body -almost black.
Having got my undivided attention, Peter began to show
himself off to me, gently sliding his foreskin up and
down, making the purple tip bulge and disappear by turn.
I could feel my own pecker throbbing with excitement and
slipped my hand down to comfort it, matching Peter’s
stroking with my own.

For a while we just lay there, enjoying our own pleasures
until Peter raised himself to look over at me. There was
no mistaking the enquiry in those oriental looking eyes.
Yes! Damn right, Yes please! My mind raced as I nodded my
consent, He knelt beside me and slipped my cock into his
eager mouth and I felt the end of his tongue begin to
tease me gently. My groping hand closed around his
magnificently thick cock and I felt his hand slip away to
allow me the freedom to explore. His head began to nod,
drawing me deeper and more deeper so that I could feel
the tip of my cockhead press against the back of his
throat while all the time I was squeezing and pulling and
coaxing his splendid manhood.

After a while, he lifted his head and drew away from me,
planting a quick kiss on the tip of my cock as it
emerged. Then he began to explore my whole body, sliding
his hands gently over my skin and making me tingle with
anticipation. Quickly, quickly, just do it! My whole body
seemed to scream, but it wasn’t going to get the release
it craved just yet. I let go of Peter’s cock and lay
back, reveling in the feelings flowing through my mind
and body as his hands continued to stroke my chest and
arms, sliding lower and lower until he could cup my balls
in his hand. I felt a sudden weight on my chest, as he
lay down on top of me, belly to belly so that our two
cocks pressed against each other. He lifted himself
slightly and I felt his hand slide in between us to
enfold us both in his tight grasp.

The feel of our two cocks moving together felt wonderful
-it was another first for me and I just lay back enjoying
this new sensation to the full. His damp hair cascaded
over my face so that all I could see when I looked up
were his dark, almond shaped eyes gazing into mine. But
even as I watched, their gentle expression began to
change and a sudden lust overcame him. His weight on my
chest eased and I felt his hands burrow urgently under my
body to lift me and roll me over onto my stomach. My
front pressed against the hard stones of the riverbank so
I tried to make myself comfortable, only just aware that
Peter was now sitting astride my legs. He leant forward
and I felt his sharp fingers prise my butt cheeks apart
and a sudden warmth as they squeezed back over his
unyielding prick.

God! I’m being raped! I thought with alarm and I shouted
desperately at him. “No Peter! -Godammit, No!” He made no
reply and I could feel his hot breath against my ear as
he leant his chest forward to press down upon my arched
back. He was aroused beyond any reasoning and I could
feel his prick, like a rigid iron bar, sliding up and
down through the warm slipperiness of his pre-cum juices
and the sound of his frantic panting. I strained upwards
with all the power I could muster with my arms and legs
and managed to lift his heavy body just enough for me to
land a really sharp jab with my elbow into the soft space
below his ribs. It was a good hard blow and I heard his
breath hiss through his tightly clenched teeth before he
rolled off me onto his back.

For a moment he lay there, his eyes wide open in pain and
surprise, then I saw his cock suddenly buck upwards,
loosing stream after stream of milky white cum on to his
heaving chest. As if it had been a signal, my own cock
decided on its release and shot forth a steady stream
that splashed in white blobs over Peter’s brown thigh.

*

I stood up, undecided and more than a little bit afraid
as Peter lay recovering, his breath making a whooping
sound as it forced oxygen back into his starved lungs.
The handsome cock that I admired so much had slumped
limply over his emptied balls, and was lifting and
falling in time with his labored breathing.

Frustrated and angry, I turned away and climbed the slope
to where the two horses stood patiently waiting. After a
couple of hefty swigs from my canteen I began to calm
down and to think straight once more. What’s with this
guy? I wondered. Am I safe with him? I was miles away
from anywhere and I needed Peter to show me the way back.
But what if he tried it on with me again? Sure, I was no
virgin, but my pleasures have always stopped at mutual
jerking and I had no desire to try anything else.

I went over to Peter’s horse and with trembling hands I
slipped his old Remington rifle from its boot, knowing
inwardly that I would never have the balls to use it. I
had finished dressing when Peter climbed up the bank and
made his way over to where I stood by the horses. He saw
my tense expression as I clutched his rifle, and backed
off, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“It’s OK…. OK…. It’s cool,” He said softly, as if he
was quieting a restive horse. Then he noticed that my
hands were trembling slightly and added.

“Are you alright, kid?”

“Yeah, No thanks to you.” He nodded slowly and turned
away.

“Kinda loused things up, didn’t I.” Was all he said.

*

We rode homeward with scarcely a word and it was only
when we could see the lights of the ranch ahead of us
that Peter broached the subject again. He cleared his
throat a couple of times then said quietly. ” Uh. Mark?”

“Yeah” I said, still not willing to budge an inch.

“Mark…will you say anything to your uncle about today?”
There was no hint of pleading or regret in his voice, so
I decided to make him suffer a while longer.

“I’m still thinking about it.” I said shortly. He fell
silent once more and steered his horse away from my side.
‘You bastard’! A little devil-voice inside me nagged.
‘You know that this could cost him his job. Now would be
a good time to forgive him’. With devilish logic, it
added. ‘Besides, he owes you -you might get to enjoy this
guy’s wonderful body again, provided you set some ground
rules first.

It was an argument that clinched it for me.

“Relax!” I called over to him. “I enjoyed it. It’s just
that I’m not into that ….er.. other stuff, OK?” The
look of relief he threw me made me feel a heel for
keeping him guessing for so long, so I tried to lighten
the conversation.

“So, don’t ever try to pay me back for Custer again –
Tonto!”

His white teeth gleamed in the evening light as he
grinned at my playful taunt and replied in kind..

“My people weren’t there, Quimosabe. I guess we missed a
real good party!” He had enjoyed the joke and the relief
that we were friends again showed in his voice, but I
never could resist having the last word, so I added.

“Anyway, I’ve seen enough of your ‘little big horn’ to
last me for now!”

*

The day had been sultry and airless and the evening
promised to be no better. Blue-black thunderheads had
gathered over the mountains and sparks of lightning made
the sky grumble ominously. Uncle Bob had come in from the
fields tired and irritable and I thought it best to keep
out of his way and give him time to relax. With every
window wide open, my room still felt like an oven as I
stripped and drew on my Speedos, intending to head for
the pool. As I grabbed a towel, I took a long look at
myself in the closet mirror. Not bad! I thought.

I had been blessed with an athletic build and while I was
no college jock, I wasn’t ashamed to show myself at the
pool or the beach. ‘Just as well.’ retorted my little
devil-voice. ‘You ain’t keeping much hid!’ I had to admit
this was true: My pearl-gray Speedos had been carefully
chosen for their style rather than their modesty and they
barely covered my favorite playthings. The thin gray
fabric clung to me like a second skin and when dry showed
off a marvelous outline -when they were wet the effect
was something else!

I turned sideways on and looked over my shoulder at
myself in profile, smiling at the way I filled out the
tiny pouch. Okay, so who isn’t in love with themselves
at 20?

Out of respect for Carrie’s catholic upbringing, I put on
a robe for decency as I made my way through the back of
the house towards the pool. The water was blue and
inviting with scarcely a ripple on its surface and giving
a yell of delight, I threw off the robe and dived
straight in, striking out strongly for the far end. When
I touched the tiled wall, I stood up, smoothed back my
hair and wiped the water from my eyes. It was then I
noticed Uncle Bob lounging in one of the poolside chairs
-he’d had the same idea as me. He was sipping a drink
from the long glass and lifted it up as an invitation for
me to join him. I swam over to where he sat and leant my
arms on the tiled edge, not wishing to leave the cooling
water just yet.

“Beat ya’ to it, boy” He said cheerfully. It was obvious
that he had recovered from the heat and the cares of the
day. He nodded towards the house and declared. “That
crazy woman in there has cooked enough to feed an army.
She’ll kill us all for sure -unless I get rid of her
first!” The thought of Bob ever winning that argument
with his tiny Filipino housekeeper made me laugh out
loud.

“You wouldn’t dare Unc. And in any case she wouldn’t go!”

“Dam’ right” he agreed. How Carrie had arrived at the
ranch was a story in itself. She had been there ever
since I could remember and was devoted to Bob and my aunt
Bethany. When Bethany died, it was she alone who had
nursed the grieving Bob through his depression and heavy
bouts of drinking. Bob would have sooner shot all of his
beloved bloodstock than part with Carrie. In her quiet
unassuming way, she could twist my uncle round her little
finger -and he knew it!

He poured another glass of iced lemonade and reached over
to pass it to me.

The sweet, sharp taste refreshed me and flushed the
bitter chlorine taste out of my mouth, but as I looked up
and smiled my thanks, I noticed that he had only worn a
pair of boxer shorts for his swim. Without an inner liner
to conceal them, I could hardly miss the sight of two
large creamy-coloured globes, covered in coarse hair and
another limp white shape pressed against his thigh. My
vantage point in the pool below him meant that I could
see right up his leg. I decided to stay in the pool a
while longer and do a bit of research.

It had been a few days since my trip with Peter, busy
days when I had hardly seen either of them, let alone
talk with them, so Bob was curious. “How did you get on
with Peter?” He asked. There was a strange tone in his
voice and I swear I saw a slight stirring inside the leg
of his shorts -he knew something. I decided to play it
cool. “Oh, OK…. Yeah, he’s a nice guy.” I got the
impression that this wasn’t the answer he was looking
for, because he changed the subject.

“It was good to see your Dad again.” Adding pointedly.
“He tells me that you and he get along just fine.” Again
that strange tone and, yeah, his cock was really moving
some now, pushing his ball sac to one side as it slowly
stiffened, but if he noticed me staring, he gave no sign.
I could feel my own prick hardening, pressing against the
thin stretch fabric of my bathers. I can’t get out of the
pool -not like this, I thought, feeling slightly panicky.
Bob took another pull at his drink and finally seemed to
notice his growing erection.

Ever so casually, he pulled at the leg of his shorts to
make himself more comfortable, dragging the hem further
up his thigh in the process so that the tip of his cock
was almost in daylight. This time it couldn’t be a
mistake, could it? My stylish figure-hugging Speedos had
become an instrument of torture, trapping and bending my
erection in directions it was never designed to go, so I
slipped my hand past the waistband and shifted my rock
hard cock to one side. Looking up again I saw Bob looking
down at me and, yes! There was no mistaking that strange
smile again as he decided to go in for the kill:
“Your Dad told me that you’re into videos: Well, I’ve got
a few you
haven’t seen. We can watch one tonight, if you like”

I stammered out some sort of answer, hoping that my tan
was hiding my blushes.

My Dad must have told him everything! If his invitation
didn’t clinch the fact, the sight of his erection
certainly did. There could be no doubt any longer. His
cock had lifted itself almost upright making a great
bulge in his shorts. Looking up from the pool, I could
see a big blue veins pulsing along its underside and
those enormous balls were doing a slow waltz as they
rearranged themselves. Bob patted the empty lounger
beside him and said huskily.

“Come up here and we can talk about it.”

I needed no further urging and pushed myself off the
floor of the pool, twisting round so that I was sitting
on the edge. As I stood up, Uncle Bob got his first sight
of my skimpy gray Speedo trunks and the revealing shape
of my rigid cock trapped underneath.

“Whoooee, ain’t that something!” He said in awe. “Your
Dad must be as jealous as hell. He’s got nothin’ to match
that!”

I looked down at the bulge made by his own barely
concealed weaponry, and replied.

“I see you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of down there,
either.”

Behind us a bell clanged, warning us that it was near
dinnertime and I saw a frown of annoyance cross Bob’s
face as he got up reluctantly, rearranging his shorts. He
put his arm over my shoulder as we walked back to the
house and said in a low confidential tone.

“Looks like we’ve both got a pleasant surprise coming to
us both then, don’t it?”

My throat had got suddenly tight, so I could only gulp
and nod my agreement.

*

Dinner was usually the high point of the working day on
the ranch and today was no exception, but I hardly
noticed. I ate as quickly as I could, but that only meant
a long wait as Bob made his leisurely way through the
courses. He didn’t seem to be in any great hurry to keep
the promise he’d made by the pool, but my balls had ached
with anticipation ever since and my errant cock had
firmed up more than once since then at the thought of a
whole evening’s pleasuring.

The meal dragged on and on and it seemed like midnight
before we sat over a final cup of coffee. Carrie got up
and started to clear the table and I -acting the perfect
guest -helped her to take the dishes to the kitchen. We
had just got started when a pickup pulled up in the yard
outside. It was too shiny to be Peter Long Wolf’s and
turned out to belong to one of Bob’s neighbors. To my
intense frustration, his visit turned out to be a long
one and the two farmers chatted for an eternity, debating
the merits of some damned machine or other. I could only
grit my teeth and wait….and wait!

Finally I heard the crunch of tires on gravel as our
visitor finally took his leave. Bob came back into the
lounge and gave a broad grin as he saw me sitting there,
pretending to read. He guessed my thoughts and gave me a
broad grin saying. “He’s a great guy, Frank, but he’s got
no sense of timing!” He had all the patience of a farmer
and for him, the long wait had only seemed to add a savor
to the occasion.

But the time had finally come and Bob led the way to his
office, built onto the side of the ranch-house. It was a
large room and furnished in the old style, with plenty of
wood paneling and a big stone set fireplace. Bob went
over to the large picture window and pulled on a cord and
the drapes drew across the night-time blackness with a
swish. The chances of anyone looking in on us were about
the same as on Mars, but I guess we both felt a lot safer
with those brown velvet drapes closed and the bolt
snapped on the door. A gas fire made to look like burning
logs hissed cheerily in the fireplace, making the room
look cozy and warm. In fact, if you were in the mood for
some secret sex, you couldn’t do much better than this, I
thought.

Bob went to a cupboard and returned with a bottle of
bourbon and two glasses. I’m not into spirits as a rule,
but there didn’t seem to be any beer on offer so I took
the generous slug that was handed to me. After beckoning
me to a comfortable leather armchair by the fire, Bob
excused himself and went down a short corridor to where I
knew there was a small bathroom after a pause I heard the
splashing of a shower as Bob prepared himself for our
tryst.

“I’ll take one after you,” I called out and heard the
rumble of his reply over the running water. In my earlier
haste, I hadn’t showered after my dip in the pool and my
hair felt sticky and stank of chlorine. Bob reappeared
wrapped in a fluffy terry towel robe, rubbing his curly
gray hair with a big towel. I dodged past him and hurried
into the steamy shower stall. I was eager for action and
didn’t want to spend too much time in there. When I
emerged, I looked for another robe to use, but all I
could find was a large towel, which I wrapped round my
waist.

As I came back to the office, I saw that my uncle was
sitting comfortably by the fire in the twin of the chair
I had occupied, so that when I sat down we faced each
other. There was an awkward time while each of us
wondered how to get started. Bob solved the problem by
untying the belt of his robe and spreading the two sides
wide over the arms of his chair.

After all my eagerness, Dammit, I was feeling shy in
front of my uncle’s nakedness and took a while before I
slowly pulled aside my towel. We examined each other with
interest: I had seen most of his bulky frame before but
apart from my peeking at the poolside I wasn’t prepared
for the sight before me: Dammit, his cock was enormous!
It was more square in shape than round and its foreskin
had drawn back slightly to reveal a broad coral-colored
head from which a tiny clear bead of moisture hung.

If I was impressed with that great shaft, when I turned
my attention to his hairy balls I dam’ near fainted with
wonder and delight. If any screwy scientist ever made a
study of how far a man’s balls could hang away from his
cock, my uncle would have won hands down! The long skin
bag that housed his two treasures dropped a full
handbreadth down from the base of his hairy shaft. I know
because later on I measured it!

Several large folds of hairy skin supported the weight of
those testicles and if you can imagine the size of a two
large hen’s eggs you would be about right for size. My
fully erect cock was also under scrutiny and I saw Bob
lick his lips furtively at the sight of me lifting up my
balls, where my excited sweat had stuck them to the
leather seat.

A part from a few slight moves, his cock hadn’t been
stimulated into an erection yet, but Uncle kept his hands
away so that I could admire those truly wondrous
genitals. Then as his imagination kicked in, his cock
stirred lazily, flopped over to one side and then started
to lift slowly out of the deep hollow above his low slung
balls. I pulled my chair closer and watched entranced as
it make its slow journey to full erection before I
wrapped my fingers around its base. As I gripped him, I
could feel Bob’s racing pulse in the hard pipe that ran
under the length of that thick oval cock towards its
broad, mushroom-shaped head.

There began a long period of sheer delight for us both as
we probed, stroked and pulled at each other’s manhood: an
uncle and his nephew both sharing the mystery of being
male. I started to shudder with the approach of my
ejaculation, but Bob released his grip and reached into
the pocket of his discarded robe to hand me a small brown
bottle. In my comparative innocence, I hadn’t encountered
‘poppers’ before that night and I waved his hand away. I
have a thing about drugs, so it took a lot of persuasion
for me to take a tentative sniff.

I reeled at the sickly-sweet smell and handed the bottle
back with a look of disgust. Bob made me watch him as he
closed a nostril with one finger and sniffed heavily from
the bottle through the other. A smile of satisfaction
crossed his face and his erection began to droop
slightly. He took another hard sniff and handed me back
the bottle with and said encouragingly. “Give it another
try.”

I needed something to distract myself from coming, so I
took a hefty sniff, the way he had shown me. The smell
didn’t seem so bad this time and just when I thought
nothing would happen, I felt a warm glow come over me and
my head began started to swim and throb with a gentle
pulse. I decided that I could get to like the feeling and
needed no further urging. I lay back in the chair in a
dreamy haze with all my senses working overtime. My cock
had softened and I felt it flop about as Bob worked on it
steadily. When I felt the damp warmth of his mouth enfold
me I couldn’t keep from groaning with sheer delight as my
heightened senses screamed messages to my brain -I had
never been sucked like this before in my life.

Soon -too soon for me- the effect began to wear off and
almost frantic with lust, I attacked Bob’s cock. Soon we
were writhing on the floor in front of the fire, stroking
and sucking each other with growing excitement. Time and
again we had to resort to the little brown bottle to stay
our climaxes for just a little longer. Bob was over-
enthusiastic and rough in his love play -he had a
tendency to seek his own gratification savagely and
selfishly without too much thought for his partner. He
grunted, bit and scratched at me until he couldn’t last
any longer and drew his hand away, leaving me to follow
his example and work on myself.

With a groan, he lay back on the carpet, his hands a blur
as he attacked his thick shaft mercilessly. His balls
were flying about uncontrollably from side to side as he
pulled faster and ever faster, making his big, red
cockhead pop in and out with a wet slapping sound.
Finally he let out a roar, and I looked up from my own
approaching shoot-out just in time to see jet after
incredible jet fly high in the air to fall back on his
hairy chest in great globs.

My cock took up the hint and I rolled over and shot my
load onto the warm hearth, watching with bleary eyes as
the long strings of sperm begin to steam in the heat. We
stared glassily at each other, panting and unsteady from
our efforts and the effects of bourbon mixed with
poppers. My first ever jerk off session with my uncle had
turned out to be an awesome experience; We had worshipped
and ravaged each other’s bodies, leaving them spent and
satisfied. Bob slapped my shoulder and used it as a prop
to help him stand up. The look he threw me said. “This
has got to happen again.”

*

The clink of glass against glass woke me from my reverie
and I sat up, my head still muzzy from the heady mix of
liquor, poppers and sex. Bob was pouring himself another
bourbon from the bottle on his desk in a pool of light
cast by the antique desk lamp. His face was in semi
darkness but the desk lamp showed up his hairy thighs in
sharp relief and his large deflated penis drooping down
over that long scrotum. It looked wrinkled and a bit sad
now, especially when only a few minutes before it had
been standing proud and erect, forcing out jets of thick
grey-white cum from those gigantic balls. His body may
have lost the grace and beauty of its youth but I think
that by gratifying himself with my youthful, hairless
body had added to his pleasure.

Bob went down the short corridor towards the bathroom and
I heard him urinate noisily into the bowl. I gazed around
the office, taking in the familiar scene: the wall
covered with a rainbow of different colored prize cards
and rosettes; at the Winchester ‘yellow boy’ carbine that
I coveted, and at the bank of high-tech equipment on a
shelf by the window. There was the low rumble of the
flush and my uncle reappeared. He had left the bathroom
light on and was silhouetted in its glow as he stomped
back along the corridor. With those long dangling balls
swinging from side to side as he walked, he looked like a
shambling great bear on the prowl and I couldn’t contain
my laughter.

“What’s so funny, Bub.” He growled. His voice made me
think of bears even more.

“Nothing” I said between a fit of the giggles. “I’ve just
never pictured Smokey Bear looking like that before!”

We began to exchange cheerful insults. “OK, OK, funnyman.
Let’s see if you can ‘cum’ like that when you’re my age,
you one-shot wonder! I can make it again anytime you’re
ready -buster!”

I could never resist a challenge, especially one that
promised still more pleasure, so I boasted. “One-shot
wonder? Huh! I’m like that cistern in there. You can
almost hear my balls fill up again!”

But despite our brave words, neither of us was really
ready yet, and in any case, I rather enjoy that lazy
satisfying time recovering from a good jerking session,
so I tried to change the subject. Pointing to a bank of
small TV screens on a shelf, I said “They’re new.”

“Yeah,” He walked over to a small console by his desk and
scratched his furry chest before adding. “We had some
guys stealing from farms in the County a while back, so I
got a company from Berneville to come out and install all
this. -Here, I’ll show you.” He pressed a few switches
and the screens flickered into life.

Pretty soon I began to make out familiar scenes round the
yard and the main buildings. Bob was fond of gadgets and
lost no time demonstrating how he could pan and tilt the
cameras, adjust the lighting and even record on to tape
for later playback. To be honest, I was beginning to be
sorry I had asked, but something Bob said made me prick
up my ears;-

“….I’ve kept these cameras secret -no one else even
knows they’re there.”
His voice dropped low so that I had to strain to hear.
“And you’d be surprised at what some guys get up to when
they think no-one else is around!”

“Too damn right, Unc.!” I agreed. “Look at the pair of
us!”
He laughed with me, but then he started to look
uncomfortable and I got the idea that he had let slip
more than he meant to. Since our first encounter by the
pool, I had noticed a subtle difference in his manner
toward me; the bluff ‘uncle to nephew’ act he had always
put on with me had toned down one helluva lot, replaced
by…..just what? He was now treating me as an equal –
like a fellow conspirator in some great secret.

Yes, that was it! I suddenly realised that the same thing
had happened with Dad.

It was as though I had somehow been initiated into some
great campus secret society.

The liquor had loosed my tongue so I asked bluntly.

“So what do you mean by ‘guys getting up to things’?”

It’s hard to fathom how anyone could look any more
embarrassed than when they are standing in front of you
butt-naked, but Uncle Bob gave it a real good try. A look
of pain passed over his face and he muttered.
Oh,…you know.”

“I don’t!” I persisted. “Whaddya mean?…Wanking?
Fucking?…What?”

“Let’s leave it be, shall we? I don’t think you’re ready
for it.”

“Bullshit! Here we are dressed only in our skins,
recovering from one of the best jerk-offs I’ve had in
months and you say I’m not ready? What else is there for
chrissakes? Anyways, if you don’t tell me, you can solo
jerk for the rest of my visit!”

‘Blackmail, even’ my little voice joined in. ‘Whatever
next?’

Blackmail or not, my argument seemed to work, for Bob
took a deep breath and after a long pause for thought,
finally said.

“You know I asked you about Peter?” I nodded, encouraging
him to go on.

“Did he try to do…anything with you?” I had to think
quickly but I reckoned that it was OK to come clean. Bob
must already know something about his Native American
foreman that I didn’t -or why did he bring it up now? I
took a deep breath and lied in a matter-of fact way.

“Sure, we jerked each other off …It was great. I
enjoyed it.” He looked surprised and a bit envious that I
hadn’t wasted much time in getting it together with his
foreman. “Why do you ask?” I enquired with fake
innocence.

He seemed lost in thought and it was a while before he
drew a deep breath and started on his tale.

“One night, a while back, I left the cameras running in
the barn. There was a mare about to foal and I wanted to
keep an eye on her as she was getting close to her time.
She didn’t foal that night, so I rewound the tape. That
was when I saw something strange as the pictures whizzed
by -It was Peter in the barn.”

“So what?” I enquired. “Knowing him and his horses, I
expect he was keeping an eye on the mare too.”

“No way.” Said Bob, sounding like Perry Mason at the end
of a case. “He was leading another mare into a loose
box.” He paused for dramatic effect adding slowly.
“And….he was stark bollocky nekkid!”

“Wowee” I said, but my voice was husky with excitement.
This was really gross, but why was my cock getting so
stiff? I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Did you keep
the tape?”

“Dam’ right I kept the tape” Said Bob. “Although there
wasn’t much more to see since the camera only covered the
corridor. I checked the timestamp on the tape and it was
about 20 minutes later before Pete came back into view,
still as naked as a baby. He drew some water from the
faucet and washed himself down and….”

He paused to see if he still had my full attention – He
sure had!

“…He made dam’ sure to see that his prick was clean.”

I was fondling my cock by this time as he was telling the
story, and I could see that it was having an effect on
Bob’s hardware too. That big square-looking cock was
steadily rising from its forest of curly gray hair and
pointing towards me as he looked to see my reaction to
his tale. Somewhere in the house a clock chimed and I
mentally counted the strokes -there were eleven. It was
late -very late for this early-rising household and I
hoped that Bob hadn’t noticed and bring an end to his
fascinating tale. I doubted that I would ever get to know
the end unless I could keep his whiskey-fed eroticism
going.

“Have you done anything about it since, Unc?”

A faint smile -almost a leer -changed his expression. We
were fellow conspirators again.

“Dam’ right I did!” Again that leer. “I moved the camera
and I keep the tapes running every night since then!” He
went over to a gray filing cabinet, his stiff dick
pointing the way like some obscene banner. If I hadn’t
been so aroused myself I would have laughed at the
ridiculous sight. There was a dull rumble as the drawer
rolled forward and Bob fingered his way along a row of
tapes and pulled one out. Sliding the black plastic
cassette out of its cover he inserted it into the slot of
player.

The screen came to life showing a row of horses standing
quietly in their stalls. Bob had spared no expense and
unlike the small security monitors, this picture was
bright and crisp -and in full color. Bob picked up the
remote and came over to sit beside me. The tape speeded
forward until he stopped it when the timestamp showed
22:45. The date was about three months earlier. After a
minute or so the real action began on the screen.

Peter came into the barn and walked up the aisle checking
each box as he went. The horses watched him with lazy
interest as he passed them by but it was clear from his
purposeful step that he had one particular horse in mind.
Bob had done his homework well and the camera zoomed into
close focus as Peter stood almost underneath. The sound
was muzzy and picked up a lot of extra noise but we could
hear Peter’s deep voice muttering little endearments as
he nuzzled his head against one particular horse. “That’s
Lucy May” growled Bob in my ear.

For a long time, Peter nuzzled and patted the mare’s head
and I could see that she was relishing the attention. He
moved away slightly out of shot but I could just see him
slip off his buckskin jacket and hang it on an old lamp
bracket.

He drew his shirt over his head and his long ponytail
disappeared through the collar hole only to reappear
cascading down the magnificent back I had caressed only a
few days before. I had been too interested in the action
taking place before me to think about myself, but I
becoming aware of a dull ache in my balls. They had been
licked, sucked and fondled by Bob earlier -they had even
taken a beating from his last crazy masturbatory strokes
.Now, as they regained their potency, they were letting
me know they were ready for more action.

I glanced quickly over at my uncle: He was leaning
forward, entranced by the sight of Peter slipping out of
his jeans -this time there was no black jockstrap to
spoil the view, for he wore nothing underneath them. I
didn’t know it then, but he had different riding in mind
that night. You may think me na�ve, but don’t forget that
I was a city boy and knew nothing of bestiality -I wasn’t
even sure that it was possible for a man to have sex with
animals.

What was taking place on the screen was totally new to me
and I was hooked! There was a snick from the soundtrack
as Peter unclipped the mare’s headstall from the rail at
the front of the box and gently shooed her hindquarters
round so that she stood almost square on to the camera.
He left the box and returned with a straw bale from the
stack by the door which he placed behind the mare’s hind
legs.

All his preparations made, Peter began to stroke the
mare’s neck, slowly working his way down her chest
towards her forelegs. All the time he was crooning softly
to her in words I couldn’t make out. From the slow
repetitious rhythm I guessed it was a love song or
lullaby learnt from his Indian mother. Lucy May turned
her head round towards him and I could see her nostrils
twitch as she sniffed at his naked body. Peter gave a
short laugh as her whiskers tickled his side and turned
towards her questing muzzle. I gave a gasp as I watched
her long pink tongue came out to explore him and saw his
balls lift and drop as she licked the salt from his
sweaty groin.

Peter arched his back in sheer delight which gave us an
even better view of her licking at his dark brown cock,
just like a kid with a candy bar. A long gasping groan
came from beside me as Bob took in the scene. Uncaring of
my presence, his eyes were fixed on the screen while all
the time he kneaded and tugged at himself, totally
engrossed in the scene being played out before him. Peter
seemed to be close to a climax and it took an obvious
effort of will for him to pull away from the mare’s
questing tongue, but he stepped out of her reach and
stood back for a while, recovering.

After a time, he squatted down and stroked the mare’s
belly, close to where I could just see her two black
teats. As he fondled them, the muscles of her leg
twitched and she straddled her hind legs wider, making an
easier for those searching brown hands to explore between
them. Peter was in no hurry and it took several minutes
before he started to work his way steadily upwards
between her wide straddled legs. She responded by lifting
her tail like a flag and letting loose a stream of yellow
urine. Peter rebuked her gently as he retrieved the wet
bale. The damp floor was not to his liking, especially to
his bare feet, so he placed the bale in a dry spot at an
angle to the wall.

For a moment I thought we wouldn’t get to see any more
and I slumped back in my chair, disappointed, but I soon
leaned forward again with a jolt as I saw that Peter had
turned the mare’s hindquarters so that her haunches
almost faced towards the camera lens. I could hardly
believe our luck when the camera refocused to a shot of
the mare’s leathery vulva glistening with a stringy clear
discharge. Her vagina twitched a few times then seemed to
pout, exposing its pink inner surface as though it was
winking. Bob leaned towards me and cleared his throat,
“She’s telling him she’s ready.” He whispered hoarsely.

T