Date: Wed, 25 Nov 2015 20:53:10 -0600
From: Zachary Jack <bjacklucas69@yahoo.com>
Subject: A High Country Tale: Chapter 3. Mighty Tungsten Tuberosity, Part 1
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A High Country Tale: Chapter 3, Part 1
Mighty Tungsten Tuberosity
"OK, now I think I get it," I responded to Jeremy's detailed explanation
about the idea for his Hallowe'en costume being 'assembled' for the coming
weekend. I continued massaging the meaty, dark-skinned foot resting across
my lap as we chillaxed intimately on the rich mahogany leather divan in the
cozy low-beamed great room. The fire log was still radiating heat on the
nippy early evening, as was borne out by the comatose dogs before the
crackling fireplace on the sheepskin rug newly covering the hearth. Oh, we
were butt-naked too, but not goose-pimpled. So, yes, it was still burning
comfortably.
I dearly loved the stark contrast of my husband's big feet, the top
surfaces almost matching the color of the couch while the white undersides
were paler than my own skin. The dichotomy had always stoked my curiosity
by the puzzling two-toned affect. While sexy as hell in my eyes, the color
scheme just seemed upside down to me for some reason.
Jeremy tossed kernels of popcorn into his mouth by launching them in a high
arc and catching them on the descent, a satisfied look permeating his face
now that I seemed to grasp his concept. I couldn't help eyeing the thick
sausage reclining in the crevice of his nearby groin as I watched his adept
hand-to-mouth action. My fingers contemplated dropping the toes and
upgrading to that master piece.
Damn, I thought, this man still had me whipped even just lounging here,
innocently smushing BaddDick. His nickname for my cock. While J-man
feigned ignorance of it, the intermittent pressure exerted by the foot
alerted me to his recognizance of my piece's taut posture...
"Ya' know I couldn't just use 'Gai's band's namesake, honey. It would feel
sacrilegious or something. So, since tungsten carbide is the second
hardest substance known to Man after diamonds, and the hardest metal," he
accentuated the last word with a noticeable prod to my crotch, "it just
seems right."
Jeremy had a funny way of rationalizing sometimes, I mused, kneading each
toe methodically while mentally visualizing the intricate outfit gradually
coming together for the upcoming ghoulish celebration Saturday night.
Different pieces of it lay spread around the house and porches. It had
been plainly tough to understand when he had first described his intent,
and I was still perplexed at the complexity of it but I wasn't letting on
about my doubts at this point. He was approaching exasperation with me
after three days of explanations, so I had decided the better part of valor
was to simply claim comprehension and await the final product for its full
effect. Pictures versus a thousand words, I had deduced...
Mighty Tungsten Tuberosity: why was my man naming a costume, anyway?
Loosely translating to 'hard, rounded knob', the mixed metaphor and double
entendre just didn't lend credence to a spooky factor for the Tride
Mountain Monster Mash Bash scheduled to occur up in the old Pandora Mine
this Saturday night. Wrapping my mind around it had left me a bit
abashed...smile. Pun intended. I sniggled inwardly at my own wit.
Jeremy glanced my way at that moment, a popped kernel bouncing off his wide
nose. Supposing my smile indicated a completely different subject-and no
doubt the same one on his mind-- he wrenched the size 13 hoof from my
hands, dug those toes at my midsection and in an athletic motion pivoted
his sinewy body around until I was suddenly holding the sides of his smooth
bowling ball head instead. He went to licking on my now freed hard-on. I
certainly wasn't about to argue that decision.
His excessive hormonal displays were never really surprising to me at this
stage of our relationship. I had received superb head in the confines of
aloft jets beneath sleeping blankets, grocery store bathrooms, and tennis
court bleachers at midday over the years. There had also been that time at
a symphony performance when the electricity went out. The symphony had
kept playing via battery-lit music stands and I had cum during the cannon
shots of the 1812 Overture. It had given a whole new meaning to the word
cummerbund.
I never tired of the attention and felt gratified that my man was attached
to my dick as much as he was to my ring finger. He had, after all, fitted
both our fingers and our dickstaffs with matching--- yup, indeed: size
10-1/2 and 12 finger rings and 2-1/2 and 3-1/2 inch diameter dick rings---
24 K gold-dipped sterling silver bands on our wedding night.
Very attached to both, I wore them now, and my man wrapped his hand around
the precious metal cock ring as he commenced with his second favorite
pastime. Swallowing turgid dick. Mine fortunately topped his list and I
laid back now, feeling the hot mouth and tongue set to work riling me
further up. Apparently Jeremy had additional ideas in mind, too, because
the other hand's middle finger wriggled its way directly up my puckered
asshole, edging my prostate and expanding things.
He gradually switched to swirling his fingers over my stomach in increasing
arcs, ending up at my nipples, while inching his knees up under him and
thereby narrowing the gap between his dick head and my holeway highway.
The steady mouth strokes distracted me until the tip of his piece
tentatively brushed against the ass ring he desired. Those nipple tippling
fingers erotically reached up and fucked his mouth, collecting enough spit
to smear the engorged dickhead's entry into my warm and waiting chute. His
favorite sexual pastime...fucking.
Jeremy was the only man I had ever known who was hung enough and limber
enough to be able to suck my dick while sinking his long pole into me
simultaneously and he pushed it now while continuing the oral action. The
sensations were wonderful and my eyes rolled back in my head as he
penetrated more deeply.
Upon bottoming out at the thick-rooted nine-inch mark, he held stock still
all at once, letting my ass get used to the filled feeling. His pelvis
arched backward while he pulled my globes along with the retrograde
rotation. As I was still acclimating, the thought of his gentlemanly
nature endeared me more to this indulgent action.
That is, until opening my eyes to the view of big Ambergai Gee, our
houseguest, looking down at me from over Jeremy's shoulder. I realized
then that the reggae man had snuck in without a sound, coming up on my man
from the rear. That must've presented an alluring picture...Jeremy's high,
round, curved melons were undeniably perfect.
He was now doing a bit of his own penetrating right up into the opposing
buttface of the arched pelvis whose house anaconda was piercing my ass.
The knowledge that that huge prick of 'Gai's was sliding up into my stud
man completed the ménage-a-trois. We had been perfecting it since the
temporary addition of the mature Rastafarian to our happy home.
Jeremy continued bending his beautiful butt in acceptance of the familiar
dick and upon seating itself completely, we three reveled in the state of
things. The two of them began a slow, rhythmic, undulating pattern which
progressed to a blasting three-way fuck. Damn, I was a lucky man, I
thought, amidst the pounding and likely all of us were of similar mind as
we enjoyed the conjoined intimacy.
Gai's hands grasped my man's waist as he deeply stroked the ass that he had
broken in as an adolescent so many years before. The tall, older man's
dreads tickled his back. Jeremy's mouth rose up off my dick, meeting my
lips as we sucked face amidst the double fuck. I could feel the spasms of
J's dick pulse through my innards with each forward stroke by the Jamaican.
Both worked their way to climax until the heat of an erupting load suffused
my gut and a cascading effect capped us, all three groaning in a collective
cum of paroxysmal pleasure.
Mr. Ambergai fell forward against J's back, the long dreadlocks brushing up
and down over my face now, in post-coital satisfaction. Jeremy tongued me
deeply as the sensations ebbed. All three of us lay in flushed fulfillment
during the regaining of our grip on reality. The two big dicks stayed
right in their warm holes and mine wasn't wilting a bit. Jeremy fingered
it possessively, gathering my creamy globules.
"Methinks ma'two pussy boys be vyin' for ma'ttentions by the way I keep
a'findin' the buttcheeks a'tuggin' at ma' eyeballs on each o' ma
turnarounds, now," Gai contentedly drawled. Jeremy turned and looked up at
his mentor, noting that he didn't miss too many chances. We tended to find
ourselves in this situation rather frequently nowadays.
Ambergai Gee had invaded our sanctuary since the autumnal equinox weeks
before, inveigling himself into our routine, our music playlist, our diet
and, of course, our big bed. We were both good with the company since
variety was, indeed, our spice...and most assuredly made the most of the
mind-bendingly beautiful ass-stretcher between the man's legs. Either one
of us was likely to come upon the other sucking on the insatiable tool and
each such discovery inevitably led to variations on the three-way such as
had just finished... horn-doggery abounded.
As we backed off and toweled each other, the subject of the Hallowe'en
party re-emerged and we queried our friend about any intent regarding his
attendance. He responded circumspectly once again as he had when we first
told him of the annual bash.
It seemed the Jamaican community did not view Hallowe'en, or All Hallows'
Eve, in the same manner as we Americans did. He had informed me of the
solemn and macabre history it symbolized in the Caribbean nations. The
religious as well as the pagan undertones of the day and night still took
precedence over any light-heartedness. Even to the point of high anxiety
for many. Morbidity and mortality were more commonly associated memes of
their season.
All Saints' Eve. Dia de los Muertos. Day of the Dead. Samhain. All were
a part of the three day Allhallowtide observance for remembering the dead.
And preceding that, the harvest festival. America had managed to divorce
itself from the seriousness of it through the generations. Ahhh, the low
expectations of casino capitalism...
We hoped the man would commit to attending, even should we not know what
way his presence might manifest itself. Hence, our enlivened curiosity.
Settling back to the spacious sectional sofa with hot buttered rums, I
nested into Jeremy's body while receiving one of his exquisite head rubs.
Gai (we pronounced it: Jye) took his place at the opposing end, proffered a
size 17 foot toward my lap in replacement of Jeremy's and we popped in a
DVD to enjoy 'vegging' for a while: the old spoof cult movie, Hocus Pocus,
starring the divine Bette Midler.
I loved giving foot rubs, having been raised in a family of 'touchers' and
massages had been a mainstay throughout my childhood. Besides, the huge
appendages of both the men in my home provided exceedingly sexy ways for
bonding...as evidenced by my almost constant half-hard state. The men
seemed to enjoy both the attention and my sexual readiness. So we were all
happy.
Half an hour later, when replacing one huge foot for the other in my lap,
we all jumped upon hearing a sudden rap on the front door.
Being dark, and the weather in flux due to a descending Norther, we had not
expected company during the evening, but Gai retracted his leg, arose and
nudely made his way over to our entranceway, big languid dick dangling and
rocking as he did so. Our heads both bobbled with it as it bobbed back and
forth... go figure.
Twisting the knob, he unashamedly opened the heavy wooden fixture and
smiled seductively outward as we heard a soft, refined exclamation, "Well,
now, Sir Ambergai. Don't you just look so...healthy?" We recognized the
articulate manner to be no less than the personage of the Lady Carlotta
Saxe-Coburg, a neighbor from one of the opulent chateaus down the mountain.
Jeremy pushed me up in front of him, pulled on a pair of baggy boxers and
threw a like set at my face in an unspoken instruction, then went to greet
the unexpected guest.
She stood under the Porte cochere, still mesmerized by the au naturel state
of Gai, perplexed as to what way to proceed. Jeremy rounded into the
doorway, chesting Gai aside with a big hand and inviting the true Lady into
our log home. I looked out through the wood shutters of the tall windows
behind the couch to the pebbled drive, spotting the Pierce Arrow touring
car Carlotta most commonly used for travel, discerning a barely visible
driver through the gloom of the misty evening. The precision classic
automobile idled almost noiselessly, answering the unheard nature of the
neighbor lady's appearance.
I reached over and gathered up the three fluffy robes next to the fireplace
where we had dropped them after the shower following the sexcapade earlier.
The the dogs finally roused themselves to the intrusion, sleepily going to
sniff the English peer now entering our domain. She acknowledged them each
with a pat and I wondered if she might replicate the action toward we men
should another nude male happen upon her.
Lady Carlotta did relax somewhat upon the breaking out of the robes, though
noncommittally eyeing the fact of Gai's insistence at leaving his untied,
the big piece still lolling visibly. Such a Jamaican, I thought. The
human anatomy's visual presence seemed a granted state in his island
mindset and I busied myself corralling the boys back to their hearth sites
as cover for my grin at the candid display.
Carlotta wore an evening dress of all black silk, cut low over one
shoulder, dark hair coiffed up and framing her attractive face, ringlets
escaping, showing off her long, swanlike neck and simple pearl choker.
Obviously coming from a dressy affair, her matching black high heels
wrapped in crisscross fashion up around slim ankles, complementing the
understated outfit. The woman exuded great fashion sense. A faux fox
silver stole hung low around her arms and no jewelry adorned her
aristocratic long-fingered hands. The effect only accentuated the class
dripping from her presence.
"Upon leaving the Devon's dinner party," she was saying, "I had Paecup
drive up directly to see you boys." Ambergai extended a long arm and
taking hers to his elbow, led her into the warmth of our home, sitting her
down in an overstuffed easy chair close by the fireplace. The man bowed,
as did his proud island dreads and long dick, then backed away.
The picture of the well-dressed lady and the dread-locked, partially robed,
dick-dangling giant with humongous clodhopper feet waltzing through the
room nearly had me bursting with laughter as I channeled Bilbo Baggins and
the elven queen of Lothlorien. My man, seeing my look, stepped decidedly
on my foot as warning to curb it...ahem, he signaled. So I bit a lip and
behaved, snugly securing my own robe belt. Darn it.
"Because of the disturbing subject of conversation over the digestif,"
Carlotta went on, "I wanted to check on you boys to assure myself that all
was well with the three of you." Her look over at Gai made me think she
might as easily have said, "the four of you." Curious, Jeremy questioned
her concerns and she continued by informing us that there had been an
alarming development from high up the mountain. As our secluded home was
one of the most highly placed, she had worried over our well-being, she
told us.
It seems that Adolpho, the wine sommelier, had been hiking the high ridge
earlier in the day and had come across a dreadful scene. An apparent bear
attack had left a tourist couple visiting the area sorely ripped to bloody
pieces, the lady brokenly apprized us. The bodies had been so disfigured
that the sheriff's department had only made an identification by dental
records in the past hour and word was now spreading around the small, close
knit mountain community.
Miss Carlotta had stopped first at her close confidants, the elderly
Chastains, to make sure of their safety, before coming to see us. Hmm, I
pictured the Lady popping in an hour earlier had she not stopped
there...Gai's excitatory state then would have made her present
discomfiture seem tame by comparison. I had to again curb myself at the
image of Gai nonchalantly plopping the homunculus out of Jeremy's ass and
opening the door in that moment... Slap that thought from my head, I
warned myself. This was serious.
While relieved to hear none of our neighbors had been victimized, we were
all three horrified at the prospect of death-wreaking bears marauding
through the area. Gai, ever the gallant, disappeared for a moment,
reappearing with a snifter of Drambuie for the Lady, which she accepted
graciously. We discussed the ramifications of the development and decided
it best to proceed carefully until the murderous beasts were tracked down
and trapped.
It was extremely rare to have black bears act aggressively, unless
cornered, so we were all taken aback by the violent episode so close to us
all. Adolpho was apparently very shaken up, per the sheriff, Carlotta
informed us, and Jeremy went to call the boy he was so fond of to ascertain
his mental state. I hollered after him to invite the young Italian to come
stay with us for the time being, what with the man's flimsy house a mile
away from ours. The place was very remotely located.
Carlotta settled herself by sipping the sweet liqueur and we gradually led
the conversation away from the catastrophe, attempting to further calm her
frayed self. Gai's protuberant dangling did seem to draw her attention
periodically, I noticed. I asked the English woman if she had heard
anything pertaining to the coming costume soiree set for the old mine up
the heights on the other side of the mountain. She answered that the
'constabulary', as she referred to the law, was assessing the situation for
the safety implications over the next days. Depending on what occurred,
she surmised, would make the decision of the event going forward or not.
But, of course she would be attending.
Peering out again into the deepening dusk, I noticed the driver leaning on
the long hood of the touring car smoking a cigarette and asked if Carlotta
wouldn't prefer him to come inside under the circumstances. She concurred
this was a good idea so I went to bring the man to join us.
The handsome young man appeared surprised at my request, usually being
content to stay with the automobile that he babied and cooed over, keeping
its pristine condition up to standards. Nevertheless, he acquiesced to my
invitation. After turning off the engine, we came into the warmth and Gai,
again acted the bartender, brought the chauffer a balloon of Louis XIII
cognac.
Paecup was not immune to the haphazard dress of the tall man and couldn't
avoid evaluating the startlingly large, fat piece the two of us were
usually happy to see flop around. The Lady herself seemed resigned to the
uncovered beast by now, still glancing it's way periodically. The driver
inadvertently licked his lips at its sighting and I wondered how long it
would take for the RastaMon to acquaint himself better...a wallflower, the
man was definitely not. And, his interest in the young Russian was
palpable. The big dick waggled just a little more than normal when
delivering the best cognac in the house, I observed.
We spent another half hour catching up on the news and getting details
about the 'episode' up mountain, then decided it was time to call it a
night. Jeremy wanted to accompany Lady Carlotta home but she informed us
that Mr. Andropov was 'quite accomplished in the pugilistic arts'. She
felt quite safe with him escorting her, thank you.
So we bid the two out to the Series 36 dual valve 1927 model icon of
touring cars, delivering the Lady into the plushness of the embroidered
Italian leather seating and the gold trimmed interior. Paecup secured her
inside and took the driver's seat as they gracefully purred away down the
mountain into the darkness. I licked my nose as a large snowflake alighted
on it, contemplating yet another of this high-born woman's peculiarities.
Who else might have a handsome Russian chauffer named Paecup Andropov...?
***
The windows had all been secured and draped, the doors all double-locked
and rechecked before we had retired to the polished cypress king bed we
called our own and I now lay, my head on Jeremy's stomach, gazing into the
dying embers of the bedroom fireplace listening to Gai's low breaths and
feeling the slow rising and falling of J-man's familiarly slow, deep sleep
breathing. Jeremy's warm palm covered my bare back and It was safely
comforting as I brooded over the probable final minutes of the unknown
tourist couple torn to shreds on the top of the majestic mountain I so
loved. I didn't want to associate it that way from here on.
It must be close to 3 AM now, a common time for me to awaken. I
internalized things during that dark-of-night time: mountains from
molehills were conjured in the sterile stillness of the hour and I worked
at knowing that the conjured things would be reduced to nothing...mental
ashes...by the breaking dawn. I missed the night sounds with all of the
windows shut this night. The silence stifled me. My man put up with the
weird need for openness and outdoor sounds, even in the dead of winter.
Its susurrus hypnotized me to sleep and I wanted to hear those sounds
now...
Out of the stillness, I picked up on a light scuffling sound outside our
French doors to the balcony. At first I thought it to be the lisping sound
of overhanging tree branches. But the sound persisted in regular pattern
and I quickly determined it was animal or human-made sound. A slow scrape
accompanied the scuffling and I experienced a wave of gooseflesh as warning
of something not right.
Raising up carefully so as to not waken the sleeping Nubians, I separated
myself and left the bed, tiptoeing to the double doors. Tipping back the
blackout curtain so rarely used, I peered into the darkness outside. The
sky was low. No moon or stars lit anything what with the weather system
enveloping us. The first snowfall had magically changed the world out
there. Everything was shades of silver and gray, shadows and dark spots
pocked the several inch white blanketing.
The trees stood guard in stark contrast and I could make out a set of some
kind of tracks just outside on the balcony. Unable to tell anything more,
there suddenly came to my ears a soft 'pfluffmph'. I inferred something or
someone having just jumped down over the bannister around the corner and
landed in the snowy covering a floor below.
It was disturbing, especially with the marks in the snow just feet from me.
They led around the corner toward where the sound had arisen. My goose
pimples multiplied. Padding over to the side bay window alcove preferred
for reading, I pulled back that curtain and was further dismayed to
envision what I thought to be a bent figure loping away into the woods
surrounding the house. It moved with a limping shuffle and the figure
seemed large...bulky. And dark. A bear, I ventured? Not something I
wanted to see after the gruesome occurrence the afternoon before.
It occurred to me that the 'mountain' in the dead-of-night might no longer
be a molehill.
Unbeknownst to me, the Jamaican had quietly awakened, watching from the bed
behind me as the ominous limping figure disappeared into the shadows. The
wise man's eyes narrowed to slits at the sight and he shuddered silently
before resuming a sleeping position, forcibly controlling his breathing.
Not brave enough to venture outside under the circumstances, I scoped the
perimeter for ten minutes or so before the chill to my skin subsided.
Seeing nothing more, I nevertheless canvassed the darkened house. The dogs
dutifully followed me as bodyguards while checking all of the doors and
windows a third time.
The boys normally sounded off at anything unusual and as they were both
quiet, I concluded that I must have transfigured some familiar night
creature out on its nocturnal curiosity trek. After all, bears were common
visitors...Suture and Elvee had long since ceased signaling their presence,
sensing no inherent danger there.
On the other hand, however, it hit me that the elk were absent and I had
heard no night hootings from the owl, either. Both were uncommon events.
The elk liked our property due to the salt licks I put out regularly and
over next to the pond, under the protection of the looming mountain, there
was fresh hay during the winter. I had just put out two bales the day
before. And the big elk were not there. Things that make you go, 'hmmm'.
Well, I was 'hmmmmming' all the way back upstairs at these contradictions,
slipping back to the warmth and safety of my lair. Weirdly, the dogs both
climbed up and in, also. That was unsettling in itself. And eerie.
Jeremy turned over on to me and covered me in a sleepy embrace. I fell
into an uneasy slumber.
The next morning dawned dark and smotheringly quiet. No breezes, no animal
sounds. No tittering birds. The snow muffled almost everything. I arose
from under Jeremy's muscled arm and torso where he had protectively
concealed me a few hours before. Whether consciously or not, I was unsure,
but I had melted into his smell and warmth. Now, I hated leaving the
cocoon. And the boner.
The Rastafarian was gone. Rumpled bed makings and an indented pillow were
the only trace of him. The amiable Rastafarian had proven mysterious in
some ways during his weeks with us. The man would awaken at times in the
night and pull one of us to him in a possessive bear hug. Never voicing a
word, just seeking intimate proximity, we had surmised. Other times he
would perform a deep-of-the-night blowjob on one of us. Something that
never occurred in the light of day. He was big on the macho thing.
Some mornings, the Jamaican would slip out of bed an hour before my 5 AM
arising and we would find him deep in contemplative repose somewhere in or
out of the house. Still other times, the swarthy gent would sleep far into
the morning, arising in a dazed state of mind, seldom communicative at
those times...No set routine seemed strange to both of us, as we were very
habitual. Not in our pastimes, mind you, just our awakening and retiring
patterns.
I showered in cool water to jumpstart myself, toweling off as my man
entered to take a turn. He nuzzled me on the way in without a word. The
quietude of the snow and the repressive atmosphere that I felt was
apparently affecting him, as well. Pulling on clean jeans and my preferred
choice of turtleneck sweaters, I descended to start coffee and put on an
Enya CD to match the pensive mood of the morning.
Ambergai Gee was not in the house from what I could tell and that was
unusual as he had demanded dick attention from one of us sometime during
every morning since his arrival. Hmmmm, again. Jeremy followed me down
after a bit, looking for coffee and still sleepy-eyed. His warm up bottoms
barely covered his crotch and the residual morning engorgement was sticking
down the leg straining to be seen. And noticed. Nothing else covered him
except the towel around his neck. He stopped short upon eyeing me and I
marveled at the absolutely stunning physique of the man I called my own.
At 44 years old, not a strand of body hair except a trapezoid patch above
his endowment inhabited his entire body, no crease or wrinkle indicating
age. I teased him that he was a black Dorian Gray and kept an eye peeled
for the alter-ego painting that surely must be absorbing his
years... seeing him like this every day was a most treasured indulgence.
That he returned the affection made me feel I inhabited a novel-real life
couldn't be this good.
The AM horn-dog squinted across the room at me, gestured down at the now
ascending tent inside the warm-ups and made plain his expectations. I
listened to Enya plaintively lyricize as I pulled off my sweater and
descended to knee level by the time I had reached him, by now adept at the
assumption of my favored morning position.
The coffee percolated on the counter as I rounded down on the now extruded
boner, its hardness rising to mouth level, foreskin inching back from his
fine spongy crown. I settled into the awakening callisthenic which the
black stud needed, either passively or actively, every single day. In
eighteen years, I could count the number of times on my left hand that this
man had not erupted in an ejaculative 'good morning' and still have fingers
left over. My right hand was occupied cupping the hairless balls and
massaging the cum up the cumchute, of course. His marriage ring was sexily
encircling the entire package, per usual, and it grounded my strokes.
Within three minutes, the erect nipples hardened under my fingertips,
signaling his coming spurts. I kept time to Enya through the explosion and
shudders. Following his hard smoothness downward to the sensitive toes,
skimming him all over with my fingers and then working my way back up,
engendered my own eruption. I had early on discovered this one human that
could set me off without touching myself. The oversized white dick of mine
just pulsed it out as I enjoyed his body under my hands, and he leaned down
to cup the babies, razzing me that someday he would get pregnant by the
method, like an immaculate conception. He licked his fingers lasciviously
while basking in my feel of him.
Yup, between his need for sucking dick, mine firstly, and my own weakness
for the art of fellatio, we certainly sucked a whole lotta dick.
Good thing his little girl had knocked me off that ladder so many years
back. Little Elle was now grown up and had Elle, Junior, to love on. The
image of the pigtailed imp with no front teeth brought me a full-mouthed
smile. It be hard to smile with a mouth full of dick, especially the size
of Jeremy.
I wondered why the hell girl babies weren't accommodated by numeric
nomenclature like boy children were: Junior, the third, the fourth, etc.
Seemed mighty strange to me, and I was glad Elle had broken down that
particularly stupid wall... We expected to have the two best girls in our
lives present with us in a couple more weeks for the Thanksgiving period.
Even if it did restrict our lewd ways a smidgeon.
We both swallowed at the moment that we looked at each other, sending us
into gagging fits of giggling. We were aware of our peculiarities and
reveled together in them. After getting cups of coffee, we conspired
together on barstools turned toward the steepening mountain outside our
windows, feet entangled with the other's.
Commenting that Ambergai was nowhere to be found, I then related to him the
disconcerting occurrences of the night. Jeremy was mightily perturbed that
I hadn't wakened him, as if that would have helped anything. My knowledge
of his reactions under stress were well documented and the last thing I
would have wanted was to see him confronting whatever I had spied in the
effort to act the hero. Which he would have done. I kept my mouth shut.
We went upstairs and examined the scratch marks in the snow on the balcony
and then followed around to the side, viewing the abrupt ending to the
marks. Prints on the handrails and a pronounced depression in the snow
below seemed telltale. So, I was not imagining something or someone up
here. By the reinforcement, it was likely that I had, indeed, seen the
large, limping figure disappearing into the woods, as well. Now, my
prickling skin was contagious-J-Man 's forearms were goose bumped, too.
Not seeing our long-haired housemate on any landing around the house or on
the visible property around us raised my hackles further and I insisted we
make a call to the sheriff. JK wasn't as upset over his friend's absence.
"He leaves for the boondocks on a regular basis to do his secret things
wherever he stays. I think it's religious stuff, or something," he
posited. But he agreed and we called anyway.
I hand-walked Elvee and Suture with their hated extend-a-leashes. The boys
felt the devices were instruments of restrictive torture. Not desirous
that curiosity might take them roaming, they had to accept the control for
the time being. The duo found multiple other tracks in the snow, but it
was hard to determine similarities or differences now. Following the
prints of the limping figure's path up to the point where the rocky heights
held no snow at all, I lost them, though it did solidify the evidence.
There were no size 17 footprints to be found anywhere. Of that I was sure.
And, still no sign of the elk... On the way back in, I spotted a branch on
a big evergreen tree contrasting in red and found a piece of snagged
material. Some sort of coarse burlap. I freed it and brought it along.
Coming back inside, I was elated to find a revived, crackling fire. Jeremy
was busily working on the long strands of hemp he had collected for the
costume he planned. He was weaving and braiding the pieces into some sort
of wigged-dreadlocks using his stretched out legs and toes for anchors. I
was beginning to see the described endgame in real time now, at least
somewhat. The collection of bones and wiring and various other pieces were
still baffling.
Jeremy looked up excitedly and called me over while I was liberating the
furred beasts, "Hey, Luke, look at this, honey." He held up a big leg
bone, which I had seen before. Unsure where or by what method he had
procured the thing, I was staying clear of questions there, as well. it
was a true human tibia, that I knew after examining it. "Look close-see,
right there below the bony knobs-- the ones you call tuberosities, right?
There are teeth marks. Something's been gnawing on this one," Jeremy was
hyped over this discovery.
"You don't think a critter took a few swipes at it during the night?" I
asked innocently. "It was laying outside the past three days, J."
He responded with a conspiratorial look, "Yeah, my boii, but these gnaw
marks were made by human teeth, Luke." He was dead serious, so I looked
closer. There was, for sure, mostly blunt indentations and no sign of
'wolf teeth' marks, the big hooked teeth that look like a vampire's, which
all non-humans have. All predatory animals, to be precise.
"Well, Jeremy, that does look unusual, but what about baby animals or
herbivores, or something like that?" I was still playing devil's advocate,
but Jeremy wasn't having any of it.
"My dude, you may know anatomy, I will give you that, but I grew up in
'The-Jamaica-Lond'," devolving into the sing-song Island lilt left behind
years before, "and I am telling you, Luke, these are human teeth marks.
I'm gonna show the sheriff." When I showed him the burlap shred after
that, we both hummed the 'Twilight Zone' discord theme.
The visit by the law a bit later proved less than helpful. The deputy
merely glanced at our evidence and barely listened as Jeremy related his
gnaw-mark theory. The little tinhorn half-heartedly took the material
shred I showed him, but when he laid it down on the porch outside the front
door and proceeded to ignore it, I pocketed it. He didn't even notice.
'Deputy Fife' was shutting the conversation down, letting us know that the
bear culprits had been sighted, were on the run and expected to be
apprehended very soon...translation, "Fuck you very much, we have
everything under control. And, keep the dogs in the rest of the day, too."
I almost expected to hear him tell us 'little ladies' not to worry our
pretty little heads because HE was on the case.
I had to step on Jeremy's foot this time. He was puffing up in his
indignity. Had the deputy not excused himself, the steam would have been
visible from my man's ears...I knew him too well. We were both frustrated
by the outcome afterwards and finally decided to blow it off. So we lit up
a head-high doobie. Sure enough, the whole thing became hilarious within
15 minutes. And Jeremy's costume assemblage was back on.
***
Two days had passed and we had still not seen nor heard from our friend,
Ambergai. The evening was coming on, the fireplace was lit, the dogs were
in their normal position at the hearth and Jeremy was enjoying the hearty
soup I had made earlier, sopping up the French bread accompanying it. His
feet were raised toward the fire and the wind was whistling around the
chimney above. Another weather front had delivered a second snow and we
were glad that no more tracks had been found on the balcony, or our
property. So far as we could tell. The bear culprits had not been
captured and everyone on the mountain was nervous.
Jeremy was fit to be tied over the non-decision about the next night's
party. He had spent a good part of the past week working up the costume he
was 'wearing' and there was now seemed to be a good chance the bash would
be cancelled...I kept him medicated with gummy bears to defray his angst.
Which also kept his dick hard.
The hard-on thing actually hadn't been too much of a feat, considering the
arrival of the handsome young sommelier, Adolpho, to our home. Jeremy and
he had a close bond of friendship. After being the harbinger of the bear
attack news and hearing from Jeremy that he should vacate the shrimpy
'lean-to'-like cabin which he inhabited for the sturdier confines of ours,
the Italian boy had accepted the offer. Arriving the same evening with a
large backpack, extra hiking boots and his mountain bike, the attractive
youth had taken up abode in a spare bedroom downstairs.
His state of mind had been frazzled when we answered his arriving knock.
After unpacking the few belongings brought along, the young man then begged
off from further conversation due to a need for rest, he told us. Even the
pooches failed to draw him out. We left him to himself.
Adolpho persisted in a stubbornly taciturn approach toward us the following
morning as we gathered in the kitchen. While we understood the boy not
really desiring to relive the ghastly scenario on the top of Telluride
mountain, he inexplicably accepted our hospitality in typical single
straight-boy fashion. Which is to say: he didn't. Not even expressing
appreciation for a 'port-in-the-storm'.
Upon exiting the bedroom door, it appeared he had donned almost every piece
of clothing in his sparse wardrobe. It crossed my mind that if he could've
gotten the second pair of hiking boots on over the first ones, it would
have happened. He seemed to be showing several symptoms of PTSD.
His flannel plaids contrasted oddly in layers and made more mismatched by
the haphazard buttoning job. At least three color schemes blossoming
around the neckline, long underwear showing beneath that. I observed that
there were multiple buttons missing on the outer one so that might be the
case with those underneath. We could discern uneven tails sticking out at
the waistline, all untucked as they were. The bulkiness to his otherwise
slim waist and legs led us to believe he had layered the bottom half as
well. Barely ten words left his mouth as he almost gulped three cups of
double espresso, which did nothing to relax the almost frenetic body
language.
"That was just strange," exclaimed Jeremy upon the boy's hasty departure on
his bike down to the wine shop he owned. Coffee time, normally so easily
laid back, had been awkwardly tense with Adolpho. The attractive man had
been unshowered and greasy-haired, his eyes bloodshot... and he smelled.
Not in a good way, either.
To that point, we had only known the well-groomed and outgoing youth who
was both a good conversationalist and a cleanly put together, if
un-imaginative, dresser. I allowed that he was a single straight boy and
we only knew him from his work-mode world, so there was that. "But, honey,
he never went in to work like that before...ya' think he needs to talk to a
pro about what happened?" Jeremy had said, and we had worriedly wondered
together about the situation.
Because of our busy agendas, neither of us had the time to stew over it, me
with readying for winter and my man tunnel-visioned on helping, plus
finishing up the costume he was obsessed over. And then, there was the
added concern over the disappearance of our friend Gai, who had left
without a word days before, right after my night-fright with the eerie
visitation. We had to just let it drop and proceed with our schedules.
I had to go into town for a few hours of meetings with our lawyers relating
to the Austin, Texas, property. We had decided to stay here in the high
country for several months. My concentration on Austin and gathering
needed supplies for the coming time here in the highlands had kept me from
worrying too much. Anticipating the company of Jeremy's girls had expanded
my lists-girls most definitely had needs uncommon to gay men.
My day culminated that late afternoon with a bulky trip on the gondola,
weighed down by enough boxes and bundles that I had to travel alone in
order to fit everything on it with me. It had taken three trips from
stores in town, dropping packages and sacks off at the station by
intervals, to gather everything together.
On the townside gondola ascent, I had been totally immersed in my planning
and thoughts, setting an itinerary and mentally ordering the plans for our
extended stay, along with the concerns over the Texas issues, so it brought
me up short as I stared at the snow-covered meadow below and realized I was
viewing three black bears, a mother and two cubs, loping across from a
copse of spruces to a rocky abutment covered with bushes and aspen trees.
The three entered what looked to be a cave or some such, through an
aperture between two large boulders.
After the fact, I realized that the mama bear had been carrying something
in her mouth and as the gondola continued upward, away from the scene, I
thought I noticed a pinkish trail in the snow coloring the tracks left by
their passage. The last rays of sun disappearing over the far west peak
shrouded my distinction as to whether it had been the sunrays and light
reflections, or something more ominous.
I arrived at the Mountain Village Station and hired one of the boys just
leaving his shift there to aid my traverse to the lodge. Our arrival found
Jeremy in discussion with 'Deputy Fife' on the front steps. My man was
gesticulating in a fashion which led me to know the homecoming was probably
timely.
Sure enough, as the station kid and I climbed the steps, depositing the
day's acquisitions, he was puffing up his chest in a manner I knew
portended a vocal tirade uncommon to my easygoing man's nature. Placing
myself between the two, I forced their separation, the banty rooster of a
law officer backing off and down the steps with a whiney withdrawal
comment, "Well, you just better mind that you do that, son, and just so's
you know, your dog is a coward, too!" With a cap-straightening huff, the
wiry man smirked my direction and turned, stomping his little-booted feet
down to the big cruiser awaiting him.
"Little dick bent out of shape, huh?" I posed, as my stud glared after the
disappearing vehicle.
"That's about it, for sure, the little snot-nosed prick," he gritted out
between clenched teeth. The faintest of smiles arose as I reached up to
kiss him hello, "That little turd started pullin' my chain because I had
too many questions about 'Gai and the bears, I guess, so I told him that he
and the Sheriff sure did seem to dither and cower in the face of
adversity... How does that make my dog a coward?" He was perplexed by the
simplemindedness of the man, but that made me laugh out loud.
He softened upon noticing the blonde ski-bum kid standing there in
bewilderment at the scene. "Sorry, Bryce, pay us no mind, now..." looking
at me he gestured we could continue it later, and we all picked up bags and
packages and sacks, bringing them inside. The wonderful smell of simmering
rabbit fricassee broadsided us and the young man almost salivated his
acknowledgement of the dish--- absolutely no idea what it was, nevertheless
he was orgasming at the smell.
Jeremy and I laughed at the boy's reaction and my man mopped his
22-year-old tow-headed waves in familiarity. I wondered at that and
watched as the two exchanged pleasantries like old buddies. 'Six degrees
of separation', I thought...the early Will Smith cult-genre movie with
scenes exposing that stud's naked stuff crossed my mind. Casting Stockard
Channing and Donald Sutherland, the story had posed the theory that every
person in the world from the Pope in Rome to the dirtiest waif in New Delhi
could follow a random chain of connection separated by no more than six
people... to me, a mind-boggling concept.
My look brought an edifying reply from the J-Man, "We met a month back,
going down on the lift together while he was mountain biking..." Jeremy
then looked at the boy and asked if he'd like to stay for dinner. "There's
plenty-it's like a stew, and Adolpho should be home anytime to join us,
too." The kid responded vehemently in the affirmative, perking up at
Adolpho's name, which left me speculating if the energetic reply was even
food-related. Six degrees, indeed, I thought. Though the delicious aroma
on its own would have been justification aplenty.
I took the multiple items upstairs while Jeremy took the other things to
the kitchen, bedrooms and storage pantry. With the puppydog-eyed blonde's
hypnotized aid. I laughed to myself as I pictured the boy on the gondola
with my man, full well knowing his effect on men and women alike and the
ends to which they would go upon first meeting him. I fully agreed-the man
was almost irresistible. The phrase: 'going down in the lift together'
easily could have taken on a different meaning if Jeremy wanted it to. And
this boy-Bryce, did he say? -did meet pre-determined qualifications for
happenstances Jeremy encountered.
I was repeatedly rendered glad to be void of jealousy, what with the
hormonally heightened realm Jeremy thrived in. Since the 21st century had
augured in the era of jungle-fever proclivities more common amongst the
younger set than ours, I had found that the movie-star looks of my husband
kindled a startlingly sexual undertone with these millennials. I couldn't
count the number of times that younger men-and women-had thrown themselves
at him in the most de-basing of manners. Panting and drooling seemed to be
the typical counteraction to Jeremy's animalism. The man simply could not
hide the drop-dead sensuality, nor did he much try.
I opened the 'magic stuff' drawer in the side table by the bed, removing
four 10 mg THC-infused gummy bears and a body-high joint. Making my way
downstairs, I heard the front door creak open and upon reaching the
landing, glimpsed Adolpho's apprehensive face peering tentatively up at me.
I welcomed the attractive youth and let him know dinner was just about
ready. Like he could be in any way unaware by the savory aroma. The
lip-licking look and nervous swipe of his dark shoulder-length waves let me
know he was famished.
But, more, he obviously wanted to discuss something, so I drew him into the
great room and we sat by the fireplace as he broke into a gushing tirade of
apology for the way he had acted earlier in the morning and previous
evening. My acceptance of it and the lighting of the joint, followed by a
couple of tokes each had us chatting as amiably as we always had, and I was
happy to see the boy letting it go. He seemed relieved.
He had been freaked by the experience on the peak the day before and what's
more, the 'interrogation' by the police had cowed him-he even wondered if
he, Adolpho, was somehow implicated in the mess, especially by the way
'Deputy Fife" had third-degreed his ass while at the police station for
several hours. He told me that the sheriff and the other officers were all
talking like this was a murderous rampage by a person or persons rather
than the bear-mauling being officially put out by their office. There had
even been a reference to the reggae musician's name. Ambergai Gee.
No wonder this boy was totally messed up, I thought. First, coming upon
the bloody scene, then being treated like a person-of-interest, then having
to stay alone in a lonesome up-mountain place such as his own, unsure of
what or who may have him in their sights. And, what the fuck was this crap
about Gai?
When Jeremy had called him, Adolpho continued, he had jumped at the chance
to join us. Then he had revolted himself by the thought that my man
probably thought he had responded for sexual reasons...silly man. Jeremy
might be a lot of things, but by no means was a lech or perv among them. My
man had a nearly two-decade track record of upstanding character traits by
my first-hand knowledge, who happened to be overly-endowed with both bodily
and psychologically magnetic qualities. Inherent to his being. There was
nary a less-than-gentlemanly bone in the man's body. Including the nine
inch one.
Never did he stick that beautiful thing anywhere close to where it wasn't
invited. The man had proven the fact umpteen times over the years.
Horn-doggery and lechery were not worthy of comparison. Jeremy epitomized
the difference. I assured Adolpho of all this over the coming minutes and
we went to the kitchen to gather things for the upcoming impromptu stew
fest...it was making everybody hunger-cum, if that was even a term.
Popping open a couple of Belhaven ales, which I knew the young Italian
enjoyed, we finally thought of finding where Jeremy and young Bryce had
gotten themselves off to. Those turned out to be prescient thoughts. Upon
opening the second bedroom door, our curiosity was answered. Adolpho was,
while I was not, surprised to find the two locked in a sweaty fuck down
right there beside the bags they had managed to get placed on the bed
before ripping each other's clothes off. Literally.
Bryce's shirt was in two pieces on the floor, his jeans were tossed on the
potted plant by the window, shoes were nowhere to be seen and his Under
Armour briefs were hanging in multiple pieces between the lampshade and the
credenza. My man's clothing was similarly arrayed around the room. The
two were lip locked and tonguing each other through audible groans and
moans. The big fat black dick of Jeremy's was buried balls deep in Bryce's
ass so that it wasn't visible.
By the spasming I could see going on at that level, it was evident that
eruption was now in progress and as we watched in spellbound fascination,
Bryce's white boy dick started squirting sperm onto Jeremy's ripped stomach
and chest. Naturally, my man's hand was cupped for the reception. Bryce
was straddling the prone black man, one leg on the ground, the other bent
upon the bed, the boy rocking deeply on the thing in his hole. Jeremy's
big hand clenched one of the two white melons he was pole holing, still
kneading it as the barely visible root of his piece emptied jism into the
hot cleft between the matched set.
Adolpho couldn't suppress the guffaw that passed his lips and the sound
brought the rutting pair out of their trance. Jeremy's guiltless grin came
visible as the blond ski bum-bum being the relevant term-bumped up from the
bottomed-out state of his sperm absorbing crouch and swung, red-faced,
around to face us as his ass and dick both dribbled cum. Jeremy's pretty
piece spewed a last couple of weak jets upward and onto the round buns just
vacating the geyser.
I just sucked in another toke at the sight, feeling my own piece respond in
typical fashion to seeing my own guy in the writhing state of ecstasy I so
well knew. I totally got off on viewing or sharing his pleasure. Turning
to Adolpho, I offered a power hit and the stoned straight boy reacted by
accepting it.
Bryce, not well-versed in our open ways, sputtered his apologies to
everyone and no one in particular. Jeremy reached up and seized the still
bouncing-- and cumming-- cock of the boy, squeezing his attention long
enough to let him know all was OK. That silenced the kid and he slowly
relaxed, finally smiling self-consciously at the three of us. The sexy boy
transparently reflected shock that he wasn't about to be beaten or shot.
Or strung up.
Rather than that, I stepped into the adjoining bathroom and brought each
slimed man a towel and warm washcloth. Adolpho was simply not sure what to
make of the whole scenario. No women were present, so he evinced the vibe
that this shouldn't be right, yet the telltale tenting to the front of his
multiple layers of pants told an entirely different story...
Reading this rightly as bullshit (his take on the matter had always been;
"Yeah, right, and male hustler's dick's get hard at the sight of the
money...uh-huh..."), Jeremy rose from the bed, wiping the spume off of his
delectable self, licking it shamelessly. Then he went over to the Italian
and sat down on the side of the bed while he deliberately pulled Adolpho
toward him, unzipping first one jean zipper, then a second, and finally,
unbuttoning the last pair. Under all this two pairs of boxers resided,
wrinkled and crumpled, against the dark-skinned youth's ripe groin.
Stoned and happier since his and my talk, Adolpho allowed the action, no
doubt remembering what came after the 'unwrapping' part of this process.
"Maybe you might be wantin' to cover this all up just a little less for the
next time, straight man," Jeremy grinned at him, removing the somewhat shy,
but very stiff Florentine hard-on waiting to be unveiled. It had grown up
to be a large, curved, cut beauty. And it strayed toward my man's
succulent lips. Bryce couldn't look away from it, I noted. Jeremy neatly
pushed all three pairs plus the drawers to the triply-socked ankles.
Jeremy's legs were now spread around Adolpho's from where he sat and that
mouth drew the dick in like a Hoover deluxe, ebony hand pulling the brown
Italiano butt to him, not stopping until just the dark brown curls and the
tight balls were visible. And being licked by the long tongue inhabiting
the black stud's multi-tasking mouth.
He slowly worked his way around the shaft with that tongue snaking out from
the full lips between slurps, until the whole of it was slimed to his
satisfaction. Then, he backed off completely, leaving Adolpho's face
wearing a look of bereft abandonment.
J turned to me in silent request of a power hit. Which I gladly provided.
Then, I provided the straight boy with one and then the ski bum. Finally
serving myself, we were sufficiently saturated. The four of us proceeded
to perform or voyeur the ongoing group thing. Adolpho's mouth succumbed to
the ski bum's tongue and I fastidiously cleaned both the ski bum's and
Jeremy's cocks. Between the group, everybody's tongue got a work out and
with the delicious smell of rabbit fricassee enveloping us, we swallowed
our choice of aperitif...
Adolpho was amazed to find that male tongues were more athletic than those
of the persuasion to which he had been heretofore inculcated and ended by
actively tangling with his first masculine linguist. Probably not his
last. At least, so hoped the young ski bum. And his little bum...I mean
butt.
Hunger or sleepiness inevitably invades after orgasm; the two senses being
served by the adjacent cranial nerves. The former extended precedence in
this case. Jeremy's rabbit stew was just what the doctor ordered. I
signed the prescriptions personally. The freshly baked, warm buttery rye
bread and Depeche Mode's Violator CD provided us filling nourishment and
ambience.
After cleaning up both the kitchen and ourselves, letting the dogs go out,
and banking the fire, the four of us headed to the warmth of our respective
beds. Each of us enjoyed a gummy bear as non-liquid digestif...
Jeremy nudged me upon noting Bryce's surreptitious U-turn when he thought
we were safely upstairs. The boy slipped into Adolpho's sanctuary for who
knows what kind of conversation. The two certainly had the time to hash it
out. We both smiled that the sommelier's door opened from the inside on
Bryce's approach. 'I told you that boy just needed some good ass, honey,"
I poked my stud.
To which, he threw me over his broad shoulders and headed upstairs,
conceding, "Me, too."
In the privacy of our lair, Jeremy first filled me in on the good deputy's
visit, telling me bad things which I had feared and didn't care to hear.
In the process, my good man worked himself up to the point that I had to
resort to slapping him. With my dick. He was distracted by the subtly
nuanced move and forgot the subject as soon as my rigid prick hit his
tonsils. Would I never learn, I asked myself? Minutes later the man was
asleep with it and my load filling his mouth. I didn't have the heart to
take it away. He lay there so angelic and pacified.
For the first time in days, we both slept uninterrupted, falling into the
arms of Morpheus as softly muffled sounds emanated from the bedroom below
us.
Stay tuned for Part 2 of Mighty Tungsten Tuberosity. A High Country Tale.