Date: Tue, 24 Nov 2015 20:26:03 +0000 (UTC)
From: jhtravus@yahoo.com
Subject: Extra Stuffing

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I thought I would write a fun, short little
Thanksgiving themed story as a thank you to everyone who has sent in such
nice things to me these past few months. You guys have given me a lot to be
thankful for. I hope you all have a happy Thanksgiving and if not,
hopefully you'll appreciate a little bit of snark today to help get you
through it. If you enjoyed this story and would like me to keep writing
these quick little tales in addition to my longer, ongoing series then let
me know you enjoyed it! jhtravus@yahoo.com


				Extra Stuffing


	We only have a few minutes. But with enough practice Tim and I have
it down to a science. We park the car down the street and sneak into the
garden shed behind the main house where hollow, insincere smiles are being
exchanged among our family members, serenaded by my niece who can't play
the piano but damn if she doesn't insist on doing so anyway.

	Another McCarthy Thanksgiving.

	"It's a good thing they ran out of stuffing, huh, Tim?" I mumble to
my brother in-law, locking the door behind us as I sneak my hand under his
sweater to cop a feel at his pecs.

	"That reminds me." He replies, pulling his sweater over his head
and flexing for me. "The upstairs guest toilet is clogged with stuffing.
You should probably go deal with that after we're done." He grunts,
reaching out his big muscly arm to grab my cock through my pants. "You
should have seen that fucker. I thought it was gonna bust, man." He laughs,
like a toddler watching some dude getting hit in the nuts.

	"I'll send you up there with a plunger after we "get back from the
store". I say, mocking our alibi, rolling my eyes. What an idiot. Seriously
Tim? That toilet can clog on my piss alone and you thought two whole treys
of stuffing was going to make it down? At least the guy was fucking
gorgeous. Tim always did have that going for him, the fucker.

	"Whatever. Gotta make this quick, Flipper. You know the drill. " He
grunts, stepping out of his slacks and assuming the position over the rusty
sink and flexing his ass for me. "I lubed myself up before we drove up here
so you're free to fuck."

	By now I've already got my dick out, and I'm smacking it against
his ass, like a cat plays with a mouse before it goes in for the kill. I
can't help but admire that fantastic muscle ass for just a second, though.
A big, giant ass to go with the big giant ass otherwise known as Tim.

	Tim married my sister about 3 years ago. The guy's a scumbag.
There's just no getting around it. The 6'4" former high school quarterback
is about as dumb as dirt and never learned to keep his mouth shut despite
this. So naturally, he and my sister are perfect for each other. Now before
you go off judging me for fucking my brother in-law, you don't know Jenn,
alright? You know the type. The chick who had 2 of her 4 kids before her
first marriage and now Tim makes lucky husband number 4. But ask Jenn how
she feels about people like me being able to get married and now she puts
her foot down. Sanctity of marriage my ass. I'm about to make partner at my
firm at 29, Jenn, and I can read a book that doesn't have a picture of a
vampire on the cover. From your stand-point I guess that really IS an
"alternative lifestyle"! Then again, just about anyone who knows the
difference between "there, they're, and their" could be considered an
alternative lifestyle compared to Jenn.

	"Hurry up, Flipper or I'm just going to go out to the car and jack
off. " Tim nags me, continuing to flex his muscles, trying to draw me in.
I hate that it works on me. Every god damn time. "Or does coming on to me
and then leaving me with blueballs run in the family?" What a jackass. He's
even admiring his own biceps as he talks. He gets off on showing himself
off like the dumb jock he is. More than 15 years later and he's still this
into himself.

	"Just keep your mouth shut, Tim." I roll my eyes, spanking his big,
muscle ass.

	"Make me, Flipper." He taunts me, pleased with himself.

	That does it. In one motion I'm balls deep inside of him, impaling
him on my cock.

	He yells out, whether in pain or pleasure, I really don't give a
shit. I'm here to get my nut and that's it.

	Flipper. He knows even 15 years later it still gets to me. My name
is Phillip McCarthy and I had the "pleasure" of being introduced to Tim
Lewis during middle school. We were both on the swim team and since sports
was and is the only thing Tim was ever good at, he treated that locker room
like it was his domain. The coaches worshipped his athletic prowess and the
other guys on the team worshipped his athletic frame. He was a god in their
eyes.

	Anyway, long story short, I was a tall, lanky, gangly, awkward kid
and when you're in middle school, everyone just seems to go for the easy
shot. I had huge feet. It's probably why swimming was the only sport I had
ever been good at. I was even good enough to make varsity. So there I was,
the nerdy, skinny kid amongst the superstar athletes. One day one of the
other guys (Tim would never have been clever enough to come up with it on
his own) figured out that good old Phillip McCarthy had huge feet. And you
know what they say about guys with big feet. . . As if being teased about
my big feet wasn't enough already, the fact that I had a huge cock, even
then, made it even easier to make fun of me in the locker room. Sure,
having a huge cock now was fantastic. But not to a 13 year old boy it's
not. So naturally, all of the jocks had fun making fun of Phillip McCarthy
and his big dick and huge feet, and Phillip became Flipper. Hearing this
cocky son of a bitch call me that even now, more than 15 years later, it
still brings me back to that scared awkward little kid in the locker room
and I want to pay him back the only way I know how.

	"Fuck, Flipper, careful there!" Tim grunts, gripping the edge of
the sink, his knuckles turning white. "I can take it hard, but not that
hard, buddy!"

	"I said keep your mouth shut, Tim." I reply, slamming into him. I
grab his meaty ass cheeks and play around with them. Such a gorgeous muscle
ass. He's given it up more times than I can count and I still get off on
his physique.

	"You know, you're getting a little doughy back here, golden
boy. . ." I lie, feeling his perfect muscle ass in my hands. "My how the
mighty have fallen."

	"Bullshit, Flipper." Tim mutters underneath me as he takes my cock
like a fucking champ. "I know I still look fucking good."

	I debate about arguing with him, trying to knock him down a peg or
two even though he's right, but instead I just fuck him harder.

	"God damn, bud." He groans, starting to jack off his own cock
underneath him. "You keep fucking me like that and I'm not going to last
long."

	"I don't give a shit when or if you get off, Tim. I'm just here for
my nut." I mumble, truthfully. By the sound of his frantic strokes on his
prick I knew he was close, but I really didn't care what he got out of
this. This was about me and my payback for all those years of
torment. Apparently I was a good enough lay for him to keep coming back for
more.

	"Fuck, Flipper, you're gonna make me nut!" He huffs, throwing his
head back and moaning. That fantastic, tight muscle ass is squeezing my
prick like a vicegrip as I hear him drench the cabinet below him. Big,
heavy, thick streaks of cum painting the wooden surface as I continue to
shove my dick in and out him. I guess there was one small benefit to
getting Tim off during our fuck sessions like this. His ass gets so tight
when he starts shooting it draws the cum out of me in no time.

	"Gonna knock you up, golden boy." I grunt, slamming as far into him
as my dick would go before I erupt deep inside of him, loading him up with
my sperm.

	"Go for it, man. Load me up. Breed me." He pants as I continue
shooting.

	My watch starts beeping and I know we need to get back to the
family. Damn, what a satisfying fuck. I really needed this during the
Holidays.

	I pull my dick out of him and he winces at the sudden withdrawl.

	"Fuck, Flipper you can't shoot in me that deep, you fucker. God
damn, you're hung." He mumbles frustrated as he looks around for a
towel. "You're gonna be leaking out of me all through dinner."

	"Not my problem, Tim." I shrug, handing him a Kleenex. "Try putting
a cork in it."

	"Fuck you, man." He smirks, shaking his head, laughing.

	"That's a pretty ballsy thing to say for someone carrying my load
inside of him at the moment."

	"Whatever, dude. . ." He sighs, grabbing his shirt.

	"So what's the plan? Say the store was sold out?" I ask him as I
start to get dressed.

	"Yeah, I guess so." He replies.

	"Oh, and Tim?"

	"Yeah, Flipper?"

	"Try jiggling the handle if it's acting fussy." I say, handing him
an old plunger from the rack in back.

	"Whatever, dude. . ." He says again, taking it from me and
straightening out his sweater.

	He heads for the door and looks back at me. "One last thing,
Flipper."

	"Yeah, Tim?"

	"My ass isn't really getting doughy. . . Is it?"

	"Nah. You're still the best lay around."

	"Fucking knew it." He grins proudly, flexing for me one last time
before he turns to leave. You give the man an inch and he takes a
mile. "Thanks again for a great fuck, Flipper."

	"How many times are you going to give me your ass before you
finally call me Phillip?" I laugh, folding my arms across my chest.

	"I guess we'll just have to wait and see." He
smirks. "Besides. . . You fucking love it."

	And with that, he leaves the garden shed with me right behind him.

	The McCarthy clan never got that extra stuffing.  But I guess the
same sure can't be said for Tim, however. And it wouldn't surprise me if
he's got a bun in the oven after the way we rutted this Thanksgiving.
Here's hoping the family sends us out to bring home dessert this Christmas.
Something tells me Tim should have no trouble coming back from the old
garden shed with glazed buns.

 ***Hope that was enough terrible food puns to get you through the
Holidays, friends. Happy Thanksgiving!*** jhtravus@yahoo.com