Date: Tue, 24 Jul 2007 23:11:23 -0600
From: stories@mudcub.com
Subject: Ranger Cabin

Ranger Cabin

by Mudcub

stories@mudcub.com

Montana Bob and I were assigned as rangers some unused land the company had.
We were up in Alaska, near the border of Canada. It was paradise. The land
was beautiful, and it felt like we had it all to ourselves. We were just
supposed to watch 1000 acres through the winter, though we didn't expect any
trouble. Just live off the land. Piece of cake.

Unfortunately, the cabin we were supposed to stay in was pretty ransacked by
the time we got there. It took us three days to hike up the mountains. The
guys who had the cabin before us didn't bother to store it for the summer,
and part of the west wall had fallen down. Our first job was to put it back
together.

I had never met Bob before this job, though I had heard he was a good
feller. I wasn't expecting to see the animal that greeted me. He was at
least six foot six, and 250 pounds. He was muscular all over, but carried it
hunched over most of the time, like a bear. He had an amazing and unruly
black beard that sprouted all over his cheeks. He was wearing a flannel
shirt, as was I, but his was fire-engine red. When I met him, he lumbered
over, grinning, and stuck a big meaty paw out for me to shake. "Well, I
guess you'll get sick of me sure enough," was all he said.

No, I'm not a talkative feller either, and so we didn't say a word for the
three day hike. We didn't say anything about the ruined cabin, neither, but
set to work instantly. Bob and I felled a bunch of trees, keeping the ones
on the leeward side of the cabin. I proceeded to limb them, and Bob took
them over to the cabin. He just pulled them, lifting up one heavy end, and
then dragging it by manhandling it side to side. I was amazed, and stuck to
chopping wood. As it turned out, that was my job for the next four weeks.
Bob could lift a heavier axe, but I had more skill and aim from doing the
job as a lumberjack in Minnesota. I couldn't cut the cords fast enough for
Bob to carry. It seemed he took a five foot stack in his arms each trip, and
then sat down and rested for the twenty minutes in took for me took cut
enough wood to make it worth his while to do another trip!

After a week had gone by, I noticed that Bob often took off early before the
sun would set. I would cut a pile of wood, and he would bring it in in the
morning. But I wondered what he did before I came back. When it got too dark
to see, I would come home, weary and tired, and Bob would be lying on his
bed. More often than not, there was left over dinner for me to eat that Bob
had fixed. He usually left me breakfast, too, when he got up earlier than I
did to stack the wood. It was kind of nice, not seeing Bob in the morning (I
was always grouchy in the morning) and staying up later than him. Since we
only had each other's company, it was nice to be alone.

One night after I cut wood, the rain came up, so I took off early. I was
determined to surprise Bob, and find out whatever he did after his supper. I
edged the door open real slow and peeked in. I was shocked to see Bob lying
on his bed, half-naked. His shirt was open and his Union suit exposed his
hairy belly and chest. I had never seen so much hair on a grown man. More,
important, Bob, had his cock out, and was stroking it with his eyes shut.
His cock was huge, too, and quite wide. Bob rubbed it slowly with one huge
mitt, moaning low on every down stroke. His dick was wet, and glistened in
the light of the lamp hung over his bed.

I watched him in amazement, and he brought himself off, coming in a roaring
climax that made him buck up in bed. His pelvis thrust into the air, and his
back bent. The bed groaned under his weight, as he slammed back down
repeatedly. Semen rocketed out of his cock, and almost hit the ceiling.
Before he was done, I let myself out the door quietly, and I heard Bob tidy
up and make dinner. I waited a moment out of respect, then barged in. Bob
turned around, a little shocked, and I laughed boisterously, "'Lo! Thought
I'd git back early like, and keep out of the rain." So Bob never expected
anything.

For the next several days, I snuck home early to see Bob masturbate. It was
amazing every time. Bob moved like an animal, there was nothing human about
him. Watching him climax made me hard, too, and I spent many an evening
behind the wood pile, stroking myself to an orgasm of my own. I longed to be
with Bob when he came, and fantasized us having sex. Bob was a good friend,
sometimes, in the evening, we'd play cards, or just sit around telling
stories and bullshitting each other. He told me about his days as a river
logger, and I embellished my tales as a trapper in the Quetico. We were
becoming close, and I don't think it was just from the company.

Bob was generous, though he didn't say much. They fact he made food for me
was right nice, especially since I can't cook, even if I shoot it. Bob took
care of me. When we had enough wood stacked, we had about a week before the
snow really hit. Bob disappeared off into the woods for days at a time,
probably enjoying the last freedom before we were snowed in. The weather got
colder, and I tried everything to seal up the cabin against draughts. I
covered the cracks with a nasty tar I boiled up for the birch trees nearby.
It was a nasty, messy job, and I was mad Bob wasn't here to help. I cooked
the pitch over an outdoor fire, then took evergreen boughs to smear the tar
on the outside of the cabin. More like, I got more tar on myself than the
sides of the one-room house.

Bob came back when the first snow fell, or a little bit after, and I was in
a funk on my bedroll. He came in carrying a young deer he had shot with
bow-and-arrow. He laughed at me good naturedly. "Whooo! You stink." I looked
down, I guess I did. I hadn't washed my Union suit since we got here, and
hadn't changed out of my jeans. The tar and the sweat from wood-cutting made
me smell like a coon dog. I looked at Bob. "You don't smell too good
yerself." He was covered head to toe in blood. He wore a recently made
leather poncho, and the hides hadn't been too well cured. He smelled dusty
from the woodsmoke, and looked like a ragged mountaineer. His beard, if
anything, had grown longer, and covered his face completely. "Well, come out
and help me dress these deer."

We cut up six deer that night and the next day. I don't know how he shot
them all. We aired the strips, and salted the meat. I tried to tan the hide
better than Bob's jacket, but it made it too hard, but good for boots. We
used every part of the animal, like Indians. Bob had learned some tricks
from  his days, and I from the Sioux and Ojibway I had met. We made jerky
and lacing from the sinew. It was going to be a long winter, and we needed
all the food we could get.

I didn't wash my clothes, and neither did Bob. I guess the oversight was
mutual, and long as we both stank. In December, it turned too cold to cut
the ice and wash, so I forgot about it. The first snow falls made it harder
to go outside. Bob and I sat around indoors together for longer periods of
time. It was troubling because, we started to fight. One night, after
playing poker, he accused me of cheating. He turned to me with fire in his
eyes, and I felt afraid of him for the first time. This was a man that could
take down an elk bare-handed, and he wanted to rip me apart. However, I was
going to give him some scars first. Bob threw aside one of the only two
chairs I had made, and came at me, arms out like a grappler. I didn't back
up, and this made him stop for a second. We looked at each other for a long
beat. Me cold, and Bob red hot. Finally, he thought better of it, and turned
away, throwing his card on the makeshift table. He retreated back to his
bunk. Late that night, I heard him whack off. I was wondering maybe if he
was getting repressed and missed the time he used to have alone.

On December 8th (I counted), we got hit with snow. It stormed for four days
and nights, and I could hear the wind try to knock down our house. It was
all I could do to keep the pipe stove in the center of the room fed with
wood. Bob was no help, and he just lay in his bunk all day. Occasionally, he
would masturbate, and I could hear him making slurping noises, his back
towards me. I was feeling particularly spiteful on the second day of this,
and said to him, "You havin' fun? You got your wife there in your hand." It
was a cruel thing, and I felt bad right after having said it. However, Bob
stayed in bed.

I was wondering if he was sick, when on the next day, whenever I looked at
him, he would stop whacking off. But when I turned around to the fire again,
he would start up, groaning and softly bucking, making his bed shake. Then,
he would sleep all day, like a grizzly bear. Maybe he was hibernating. I
yelled at him to get up and be useful, and all I got was sullen silence. But
I noticed that that night, Bob stroked himself two more times, and he didn't
care if I was looking at him or not.

The final day of the storm, though, things got as bad as they could be. Bob
got out from under the covers, and started to jerk off without anything on.
I was feeling embarrassed and sheepish. I mean, this was no thing for a man
to do in front of another. I got red-faced, then I got mad. I stared at the
beast humping his own fingers, and he just spurted onto himself, then did it
again. The man was insatiable. He sat on the chair I made, and grunted,
coming on the floor right in front of me. It was mesmerizing, though I
didn't want to admit it. I couldn't admit to myself how much I enjoyed
watching him do this, and I couldn't express how much I wanted to fuck him.
I decided I just wanted him to stop. When he got up for dinner, I said one
or two mean things at him again. Like, "You getting up? I thought you were
glued to that bed." Bob turned to me angrily, and said, "Ain't no business
of yours what I do." And then he punched me in the nose.

My nose exploded in pain. It was nothing big, I had my nose broke before,
but I didn't expect it. The plate of dried venison and beans I had in my
hand went scattering over to my side of the room. I fell against my bed,
which was just a foot away. When I recovered and could see straight, I went
right at him. It was Bob's turn to be shocked, now, and he dropped his plate
of food, too, to ready his fists. I launched my head right into his stomach,
running at him at full tilt. It felt like a train hitting a wall.

Bob inhaled, but it didn't hurt him none. He just pounded his rolled up
sleeved arms into each side of my head. BOOM. One on each ear. I reeled, and
almost fell, but took time to raise my head before I did. I rammed my head
into his nose, and since he was looking down at me, I hit him good. The I
hit the ground. All the rage and anger we had been biting at each other for
the last few days came out. He lifted my limp body up off the ground beneath
his feet and tossed me across the cabin. I went sailing and my back hit some
of the wood brought inside. My side felt like it was ruptured, but I
staggered up, and walked to Bob.

I took advantage of the fact that he was slower than me, and danced in front
of him. I popped him three times in the nose, and it started to bleed, a
long warm trickle down one side of his face. He growled at me, like a
surprised bear, and blood ran into his mouth and over his red jaws. Quickly,
Bob caught onto my game. And grabbed for me again. I was boxing, but he was
wrestling. I punched Bob in the stomach, but felt his rock-hand muscles
there, and knew that it was futile. In return, he smashed me in the jaw. The
following pain made me slow, and he took advantage of this to grab one of my
arms. He shook me with all his might, and pounded me with his other fist. I
ripped my shirt free of his massive hamhock fist, and he threw me into the
stove.

I felt a burn from the hot iron, and jerked back. Bob took this opportunity
to kick me while I was down. But as he reached for me again, I swung his
hand around, and grabbed his arm. I carried it through, Tie-Kwon-Do style to
press his right hand against the stove. I held it there for a beat, and hurt
him worse than he hurt me. He screamed, but unfortunately got some inner
strength from this. With one quick motion, he got his arm free, and then
fell on me.

This guy was huge, and his weight took all the air out of me. His knees hit
my chest, and I turned blue. Then, he took his burnt fist and grabbed my
hair. With Both hands on my ears, he slammed my head into the wood floor. I
was going to die, and like a frantic animal, I tried one last gambit. I
brought one leg up, bracing the other one under the bed. I am ashamed to say
I kneed another guy in the balls. Bobs, eyes closed, but he didn't say
anything. He fell on me, his chest covering mine, then he rolled of toward
the store, doubled over, and clutched his groin.

He moaned, "Ohhh," and I didn't feel sorry for him. I rolled over on my
stomach. I didn't have any strength for more than that. I tried to crawl
away from my attacker, in case he tried to kill me for real. The effort
almost made me retch, and I tasted hot bile burn my throat. My mouth tasted
like blood- I must have bitten myself sometime during when he was pounding
my head into the ground. I dribbled blood on the floor, as I crawled on my
hands and knees to my bed. Bob was rolling a bit not, though he wasn't
saying anything. I crawled up to my bunk and passed out. If I died, I died.

I barely heard Bob get up. It took him about twenty minutes, and he soon
walked around the room. By this time, my head had cleared, though it still
felt swollen as a plum. I looked up at Bob. He was standing above me,
blocking out my light. I wriggled a bit, thinking he was going to resume the
fight, but I realized he had a bottle of hooch in his hand, and it wasn't
like the bottle was broken off or nothing, either. He took a swig, swaying
drastically on his feet, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his big
hand. He held the bottle out to me. "You sure don't fight fair," he
complained.

"It wasn't a fair fight," I answered. I took the whiskey, and drank it. The
alcohol on the cut in my mouth gave a searing pain. But the taste of the
whiskey was worse. Thank god for the pain, 'cause in canceled out the
flavor. But in a second, I felt its true effects. A buzz hit me like a ton
of bricks, and I was tipsy from just two gulps of the stuff. Now, I'm not
usually a lightweight, but the exercise and the punishment I had taken
clouded my senses, and dulled the pain. I nodded my appreciation and gave
the bottle back. Bob was guzzling a quarter of the bottle, I didn't know how
he could do it. I was still lying in bed, like an invalid, but I sat up to
take the bottle again. After two more rounds, I was feeling no pain, though
I knew my arm was sprained, if not broken, and my jaw was probably
fractured.

"You hit me pretty good," Bob said. "You're no dancer yourself." Bob wanted
to know where I learned to fight. I told a story about the lumber camps up
north, and the words just spurted out of my mouth. Bob laughed anyway, and
soon we were both rollicking like sailors, laughing our asses off at nothing
in particular. We took the last swigs of Bob's hooch, and he told me that it
was the last bottle he'd hid. I was kinda bummed that it was the last drop I
would have for a while, but I was feeling no pain. Bob started to get
morbid, as he told me about the things he missed while stuck in this cabin
with me. Naturally, sex was top of the list, and Bob talked about women he'd
had, women he wanted to have, women he'd have someday.

All the talking about sex got me horny. I never realized Bob had been around
so much. Me, I'd had one or two hookers, the kind that hung around the
lumber camp. But I never had the kind of exploits Bob said he had. I was
amazed, as he told me of different positions and locations he'd had sex. I
asked him about sex with animals, and Bob said "yeah," and rattled off a
story about  goat when he was really horny in his younger days. I then asked
about sex with me, and Bob gave me an even stare. He said he'd never done
so, and if he had, he'd never tell about it. I was about to stammer an
apology, when he added, "But I'm not adverse to trying." "Right now?" I
asked. And in reply, Bob got up (albeit unsteadily) and walked over to me.

Now, this was something I had dreamed about, but never expected. I had never
had sex with a man before, but Bob was awfully strong. What, the hell, we
had nothing else better to do. My dick was quite hard from talking, and now
it was about to sprig out of my roughcloth pants. Bob sat down on my bed,
next to me. "You show me yours, and I'll show you mine." As I fished out my
rod, Bob opened his shirt and his Union suit. I could smell him quite
clearly now, it was the closest I'd been to him, except for working together
outside, and he smelled quite rank. His B.O. was apparent from across the
room, and at times filled up the cabin, but it smelled differently now, from
close up. Bob pulled out his cock, and it was as hard as I remembered.
However, he wasn't hard yet, so he spit into his right hand and stroked
himself a bit. I leaned over to him, "Here, let me do that," and I spit into
my own palm.

I grabbed around his thick cock, and it stiffened in my grasp. Now, my hand
could barely fit around the shaft, and my fingers lightly touched my thumb
on the other side. I slid my hand up, and covered the spongy head. I stroked
downward, and Bob gasped. I moved my hand, and his eyes closed. He moaned,
"Don't stop- don't stop." But I was in no intention of stopping. It was fun
to be in such control of this big guy. I could make his toes curl up by
moving faster, or I could slow down, and he would open his eyes to a slit
and just watch me. I could feel the blood pulse into his engorged cock from
the thick blue veins that ran down it. It was like Bob's penis was a living,
throbbing creature, and it was interesting to stroke it. However, I wasn't
getting too much pleasure from this, and soon Bob noticed. He spit into his
left hand this time, and fished my cock from out of my Union suit. I didn't
stop giving Bob a hand job, and soon we were both circle jerking.

Now, I was hard already, and when Bob touched me, a spasm went up and down
my spine. It was all I could do to keep stroking him. I felt Bob's giant paw
wrap around my cock. His saliva dripped down my dick, and when he stroked
downward, the rough friction turned to smooth lubrication. I was barely
aware that Bob's dick had become wet now too. I looked and saw the work I
was doing. A drop of pre-cum had fallen out of the tip of Bob's cock, and
now my hand was smearing it all the way up and down his shaft. I
concentrated on my pleasure, and I felt like I was soon to come. I normally
wasn't a fast date, but this time I was excited and aroused by the
strangeness of it all. I felt Bob stroke faster, and my cum churned in my
balls, begging for release. My ass raised off the bed, and I shot my load
into Bob's hand. Semen spurted up to my chest, and a stream trickled down
Bob's palm. However, Bob had yet to notice, and so he kept stroking.

After I cum, I am very sensitive, and I felt the strong force of Bob's fist
as I quickly shrank. However, Bob stopped just as he came, too. I felt his
cock stiffen and stop pulsing in my hand. Bob grunted twice, like he had
been holding it in before. His back stiffened, then all at once, he came. If
my orgasm was like a stream, his was like a torrent. I felt the expansion as
his cock twitched violently, unleashing the first release of sperm. It shot
mostly into my dripping palm. Then, his kept regurgitating it out, and my
fist was filled with his semen. He grabbed onto my shoulder to steady
himself, and he moved up and down for about thirty seconds. His orgasm
lasted forever, it seemed, and in the end, there was a sopping pool of cum
on his Union suit. He opened his eyes then and thanked me. I got up, and
wiped off my hand, and we both buttoned ourselves up. I admitted that I was
drunk, and hinted that the thing we just did was because of the liquor. Bob
agreed, and we both went to our respective bunks to slp

. However, it wasn't the last of our contact.

The next day, when I woke up, Bob was already masturbating.

However, now it didn't bother me so much. Bob lay mostly naked on his bunk.
His back was slightly arched, and he was quickly getting a hard-on. He had
his eyes closed, so he didn't hear me as I approached him. His dick was in
his hand, and he was trying to stroke it to a full erection, without much
luck. "Hey," I said, getting on my knees, "let me do that for you." Bob
opened his eyes in surprise, then closed them again. He was willing if I
was.

I was still sleepy, and the whole thing seemed like a dream. Bob's skivvies
were around his massive thighs, and they were stained quite brown. I moved
them completely off his ass, and then he and I crawled into position. Bob
was full on his bunk. There wasn't enough room for me, so I was half-on, and
half-off. I was completely clothed, and Bob was naked, so I felt a sense of
power. However, my face was buried in Bob's pubic hair, so all I saw, my
whole existence, was Bob's large cock. His pubic hair smelled musky, like
fur, and I found it hard to breathe. Now, Bob cock was at least ten inches
long, and as big around as a ladies' wrist, so I was nervous to stick it in
my mouth. So, I ducked my head low, and his cock brushed against my cheek on
the way down.

Even at this slight feeling, Bob moaned. His cock was bouncing and ready to
cum. However, I decided to suck his balls first. Just one testicle was as
big as my mouth, and they were drawn up quite tight in his scrotum from
desire. I played with my tongue, and Bob rolled gently from side to side in
pleasure. His balls were quite hairy, and I felt like I had hair stuck in my
mouth. I switched to the other ball, and started to hum. This made Bob jerk
suddenly, and I knew I was doing a good job. Bob's toes were clenched and
unclenching. A stream of pre-cum floated out of his penis and dripped onto
my face. It was then I knew he was ready.

I got up a big, and had to stand up a little in order to get bob's cock into
my mouth. Even then, I could only get the very tip in to suck on. Bob didn't
seem to mind. His cock tasted like velvet, and it was very warm from
engorged blood. It quivered and pulsed, and seemed like a foreign creature.
I rubbed my tongue under its backside, and I realized it was connected to
Bob only when he gasped suddenly. I tasted the cum from his dick, and it was
salty, and thick, but good. Bob was growling like an animal, I enjoyed
making him look like a fool. He would have done anything for me at that
moment just so's I wouldn't stop sucking. Then I attacked him ferociously,
sucking with all my might. Bob started bucking on his bed. I knew he was
about to cum, and considered jacking him off instead of letting him cum in
my mouth. "Coward," I thought, so I cursed myself and waited for him to
spasm.

And ejaculate he did. My mouth was flooded with sperm, and I thank God I was
on top or I would have drowned. I slurped up some of the sweet liquid, but
most of it dribbled to the base of his cock. Bob lie still for several
seconds, before he responded. I wiped off my chin, and Bob rubbed the rest
of his jism into his furry hair. Then, it was my turn, and Bob lifted me up
and over, just so he could be on top. He sucked me off expertly, just as
good as I did him, but he swallowed me further. I closed my eyes, and all I
felt was a pressure, a constant force filling me up. I grabbed onto his ears
and his matted hair, curly and unruly on his head. I shoved him face into my
groin, and bucked fully into him. Bob nibbled a bit, and the feeling of his
teeth on my shaft drove me to ecstasy. My orgasm was pounding, I saw blood
behind my closed eyes. Then, I exploded in a rush, curving my back against
Bob's wet bunk. I came for the next five minutes, shooting more cum into his
waiting mouth than I ever knew I had. I felt shriveled and tiny in his
mouth, and he kept me there until my cock was really small. Then, I rolled
off, and prepared to dress. That night, like every night, we would do the
same thing again, sucking each other off, but no other real sex. Bob
continued to masturbate several times a day in front of me, but I was too
tired to help him. Bob was insatiable.

After about a week of this, we were running out of food. The weather had
gotten warmer (OK, if zero degrees is warm). But at least it wasn't snowing
or blowing hurricane wind, and I thought I could go out and shoot some
rabbit. Bob agreed, and wanted to go, too, but I said no. I wanted to get
way from the cabin for a while. Now, in this weather, a man can only last
about twenty minutes, even bundled up solid. However, mountain men use bear
grease to insulate their face and underneath their clothes. I had never done
this, and Bob agreed to show me how.

I stepped out of my Union suit (good thing because it was extremely soiled
and rancid by now). Bob got out the grease pail, and he scooped up two
handfuls of the clear-opaque white stuff. I stripped entirely butt naked in
front of him, and he slopped the grease on my shoulders. I felt the warm goo
trickle down my chest, and then Bob worked it in. He didn't rub too hard,
but left a good quarter-inch of slime on my chest before he grabbed another
handful for my back. My chest glistened in the lamplight, and my nipples
were erect and attentive. Bob rubbed this one under my arms, like a trained
would a boxer, and now it felt funny when I lowered my arms. Bob told me not
to move, so I just stood helpless, and let him do all the work. He lubed up
each arm, pulling down on the hand and the fingers like a really good
massage. My dick twinged a little at memories of our previous encounters.

Bob lubed up my feet, from my ankles to my ass. When he got higher, my dick
hardened considerably, and this gave Bob another idea. He wiped my butt
good, and left lots of globs of grease in the crack. Then he got down on his
knees in front of me. He slobbered the grease on my pelvis, slowly working
his way to my balls. By now, I was rock hard, but Bob went torturously slow.
He took a ball in each hand, and made them slippery. They slipped in and out
of his grasp, and I knew he was just toying with me. He took one last
handful, and put it on my hard dick. There was a lot of grease there, and it
smelled bad, like old socks. I'm not sure if I liked it all over my body.
Bob made little circles, holding on to the base of my cock, and then he
brought his hand up sharply, making me suck in my breath. I had a hard time
standing up, and so I grabbed on to Bob's broad shoulders with both hands.

Bob stopped, then used just the center of his palm to rub the top of my
penis head. This drove my crazy, and my knees buckled. I stood up when he
stopped, then he did it again. Each stroke gave me spasms of pleasure, but I
wasn't sure how much more I could take. Just when I was about to explode in
pain, he finished me up with firm, strong straight strokes. I bent my knees,
and sank backward as I came all over Bob's shirt. I hope he didn't mind, but
let my semen spill onto the floor. When I opened my eyes, I was sitting on a
chair, thought I wasn't sure how I had gotten there. Bob stood up, wiped the
cum into his shirt, then threw my clothes at me. I dressed again, the bear
grease sticking to the inside of my Union suit. It felt odd and slippery,
but I could feel it add warmth.

I did my face, ears, and neck, myself with the grease, which was probably
the worst. I dressed in my only two shirts, my fur-lined pants, my under
jacket with hood and my over jacket. By the time I left the cabin, the only
thing exposed was a two-inch window for my face. I ran a quarter-mile from
the cabin for the best place for game. I started to heat up, and the grease
in my clothes really kept the heat in. Parts of my were cold, but not
freezing. Overall, if I kept moving, I got a damp, warm sort of festering
heat. I didn't want to know what I smelled like.

I stayed out for the better part of a day. In the end, I got three rabbits,
two squirrels (I kept them anyway), and a bobcat. Small game, but it was
enough for a week. For me at least, I wasn't sure how much Bob would eat. I
came back to the warm cabin, thanking the heat from the stove. My hands were
so numb, Bob had to help me undress. Nothing sexual, I just wanted to get
warm. Bob handed me a hot cup of coffee, he treats me so well, and he
dressed the game I had caught. He made fun of it for being so small, but I
think he was grateful. That night, we had the squirrel fried, and
afterwards, he sucked me off, since I was too tired to move.

Bob pulled me out of my clothes, and we both got into my bunk. I snuggled up
to Bob and shivered. He was very hairy, but gave off a lot of warmth. I
could smell how his armpit hair caught his b.o. and just held it there. He
was like a living rug. I was stinky, but Bob relaxed me by giving me a
backrub. He ran his big meaty paws down my back, smooshing me into the bed,
more than massaging me. However, it worked, and I felt my muscles relax. Bob
worked on my neck, then made his way all the way down to the small of my
back. There, he paused, and worked over the base of my spine. Then, he
rubbed my ass cheeks, sitting straddle on my legs. He brought one hand down
deep in my crack, and the side of his hand rubbed my asshole. He teased the
bunghole until it puckered out visibly. Bob stuck one finger gingerly in my
ass, then pulled it out slowly, since it was sticky down there from the
shit. Then, he stuck in two fingers, then three. I tensed when I felt the
pain from three of his big fingers up my ass. Then he ordered, "Turn over."

I did just that, and Bob sat on my cock. His asshole was waving on my dick,
but I didn't go in him, which was sweet torture. I was so weary from
hunting, I couldn't move. Bob danced over me, and I could feel the hair
around his asshole brush lightly against my cock. It was delicious. At the
same time, his large fists massaged my sweaty chest. Then, his hand worked
lower and lower, played over my belly. Then, he dropped his hand to massage
my legs up. I got so hard, I thought I was about to come right there. Just
when I was ready, Bob put one hand over the cum that was squeezing out of my
dick, and rubbed his fist all over my dick. I felt pleasure as his hand
moved up and down. I was going to start coming when he stopped abruptly and
placed his mouth over my cock. There wasn't a lot of friction, and at first,
I didn't feel much. Then he started to suck, and I felt the pressure pull at
my gonads. Bob brought me to a climax, bucking against his face. I shot cum
all over the flannel sheets, make my only bunk pretty filthy. And I had
never changed the sheets. Then I fell asleep, knowing that Bob would be
there to keep me warm.

Bob went out the next day, and just to prove me up, he bagged a black bear.
He drug it home all the way through the snow to the cabin. Since he killed
it, he said it was my duty to cut it up. Now, I had never cut up something
as big as a bear before. And I really didn't know what to expect. I took Bob
giant hunting knife, a machete at least three feet long. I couldn't even
truss the bear up in a tree, like I would to cut up a deer, because it was
too heavy to lift. I slashed at the carcass with the knife, and I smelled
the stink of entrails and death as the bear opened up. I quickly covered my
nose with my arm but it smelled awful. Bob sat nearby and just laughed and
told me to get on with it. I chopped at the bear more, but I didn't seem to
be exposing anything. The fur didn't strip off, but just fell away. Soon,
all there was in front of my was a steaming mass of guts, and I was hacking
away furiously. Then, with one mis-timed stroke, I hit the bear wrong, and
fell headfirst into the guts. I was on my knees

, almost retching, covered head to toe in bear gore. Bob started laughing
and lifted me out.

He showed me the right way to flesh the bear. His strength helped to quickly
cut away the unnecessary parts, leaving just the meat and the hide. When we
were done, we were both covered in blood, and stank to high heaven. Bob got
undressed, and though I didn't know why, I took off my coveralls, too. Bob
showed my how to reach between the hide and the bone to scoop out the bear
fat for later. Then unfortunately involved reaching up to the armpit into he
warm body of the bear, so it was useful to remove all clothes and things
that would get in the way. We scooped out three pails full of grease from
the bear, to be used later as fuel, or heat. Bob snuck up behind me and
showed me another use for the stuff. He dumped a half-pail full on my back
as I was working, and I felt the slimy stuff ooze down my sides and chest
before plopping on the ground. Without saying a word, he covered my in fat,
and I did him. It took a lot more fat to cover him, since he is such a big
guy. "Stick me up the ass," he said. And I was re

ady to oblige.

I smeared the foul stuff on Bob's back. He got on his hands and knees, right
there next to the chopped-up bear, in the guts and intestines on the floor.
It was gross, but I didn't care. I made Bob's back all shiny with fat, and
then worked on his ass crack. There was fat, too, on my chest and belly, and
truth be told, in felt pretty warm. It was a good insulator. I stuck my legs
between Bibs, and crawled on my knees into position. My dick was throbbing
was anticipation. I slid a well-greased finger up Bob's ass, and it felt
like a cavern up there. My penis was throbbing and it wanted in. I put my
hands on Bob's back, and I noticed how hairy it was. My hands glided over
the grease on Bob's back. As I moved into him, we made a squelching noise
together.

I felt pure bliss as my dick went in. I felt his rectum squeeze at the
intrusion. Bob made a very bear-like grunt. I thought he was in pain, so I
stopped for a second, and let his ass get used to me. After a minute, I slid
forward again, and the same as last time, his ass clenched. So I waited.
Then thrust forward, then waited. After about ten minutes, I was all the way
in. I knew Bob was enjoying this, because his dick was already pumping out
pre-cum onto the bear gore on the floor. I started to slide in an out, and I
swear I heard Bob growl.

As I rubbed myself inside his stinking hole, Bob was tighter than ever.
However, I didn't care. I just went faster, only concerned about my own
pleasure. The force of my thrusts moved Bob all over the floor, slipping in
bear guts. Then, suddenly, his strength gave out as his legs buckled during
a spasm of pleasure. Bob hit the floor hard, but I didn't pull out of him. I
myself was on the brink of an orgasm, and I wasn't about to stop. Bob face
and chest plummeted into the blood on the floor. He was slick from mucus and
dismembered parts. I hit him hard, and I soon came in his ass, shooting a
hard jism up there that I knew he could feel. I cold feel his ass throbbing
as my dick pulsed out cum.

After I rolled off Bob into the goo, then it was his turn. He lifted me up
onto my knees. Then, he moved into me. His hairy chest was matted with
filth, and it stuck to my back. I felt a delicious pressure, as his cock
head rubbed against my ass. Getting rammed up the ass had given him a huge
hardon, and I wasn't sure I could take him all in. However, he grabbed more
bear grease, and lubed himself up real good. Then, he slid up my ass. Well,
pushed, really, and my asshole screamed as his gigantic circumference probed
my ass.

Bob jerked back and forth, more vibrating than anything else. He was
dripping on my back, I didn't even want to know what kind of liquid. He
forced my face and shoulders down into the muck. It smelled awful, but I
couldn't really notice right then. Bob used his weight, to plunge his
manhood all the way into may ass, until it hit bottom. Then, he pulled out
very slowly. Very very slowly. He increased the tempo, until he came to a
thundering climax. I knew he was coming when he started pounding on my back
with his fist. I took the pain, and shot a wad myself.

We both got up, and cleaned up the rest of the bear, dressing and preparing
the meat for winter. Bob washed up in a large tin bucket we had by the
stove, but I just put on my usual stinky longjohns. I did however, jack him
off, while he sat in the tub, only his ass really sticking in the water. We
had many sexual encounters than winter, but after spring had come, I didn't
see him any more. I found a logging job, and he just disappeared. We both
collected our check from the company for homesteading, and drank ourselves
drunk when we hit the town. After that, I can't remember much.