Date: Wed, 22 Feb 2017 17:06:25 -0500
From: Bear Pup <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Rural;'babe-in-the-woods-1'{Bear Pup}(MM hist)[1!1]

NOTE: There are *NO KIDS* in the story; Babe is the name of an adult
character. I didn't want you reading all the way through only to be
disappointed.

This story and its characters are fiction. It is a personal fantasy which I
am sharing with you. If any character resembles you or someone you know, I
WANT DETAILS, you lucky fucker, preferably with photos! It is, of course,
copyrighted by the author with all rights reserved and very, very
negotiable. Also, keep the cum coming -- Donate to Nifty **TODAY** at
donate.nifty.org/donate.html! I'm an old guy (>30). I know what it was like
when you had to BUY porn. Five miles uphill both ways in the snow just to
GET to the XXX store. You whippersnapper don't know how good you've got it.

This involves sex between consenting adult males; if that is illegal for
who/where you may be right now, fuck off and get thee to a monastery (where
you might just find scenes similar to some below). Also, please note that
all my stories exist in a world where STDs are neither common nor
deadly. Don't be a fucking idiot; use protection. 'To die for' sex should
never lead to your actual death.

I like hearing from people but I also hate spam. If you get off on flaming
people, please know that you will HATE the results. I will read your
missive and weave you and your comments into my next story to the point
that you cry like a little girl. Bullies get as bullies give.

***** Babe in the Woods 1: Zeke & Jez Part I

By Bear Pup

M/M; oral

Babe was, well, a very big boy in several senses. First, he was physically
BIG. He towered over most of the family are around six and half feet, and
the width of his shoulders cast a definite shadow when he stood up
straight. Something he rarely did because in addition to being big, he was
a boy at heart. Even at 19, he would blush at any attention and would never
draw any notice to himself for praise or blame. He was especially shy about
his body. Big and thick and brawny as he was, he felt that his mismatched
bull-balls and small pizzle needed to be kept from his playmates and
family.

Like most families in the vales and valleys off the Virginia's German River
before the War of Northern Aggression, the Odells were a large and rangy
group. Paint Lick Hallow had been colonized by the family in time
immemorial; the current crop included seven boys (Babe was the last) and
five girls (two of those were younger). One problem arises with too many
kids and too little education: what do you name all the little buggers? In
a place where the Bible is often the only printed book in the family, the
first few are easy: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John; Mary, Anne, Ruth and
Ester; Um... Peter and, well, Paul? By the time you get past that, you
might as well let the Good Book do the naming. Babe was actually Abednego
(lucky as Daniel 3:13 was split on two pages as the next name was
Nebuchadnezzar, something the whole family agreed they could never remember
or pronounce. They got luckier with the last girl; the Book fell open to
Genesis 29. Since no one knew if "Nahor" was a guy or gal, Rachel was the
next name in the Holy Writ.

The Odells had cordial and often profitable relationships with German River
clans and the "over the ridge" families of the Cold Spring River basin. It
was likely that the oldest of the boys (Matthew) would take over when Pa
either died or, like his own Pappy, retired. The girls would be married off
around the two basins and the boys would fend for themselves (as it
happens, Luke and Paul both went on to have truly exciting (if by no means
Christian) adventures in the dens of iniquity of (respectably) New Orleans
and Nashville, but those are other tales. As the seventh son, Babe was
unlikely to have many prospects.

Except... Babe was a SEVENTH son, something that the folk wisdom and
root-working elders knew held power. Yes, he was way too big. Yes, he was
less mature than his own nephews. Yes, he was thick as a yard of lard. Yes,
he had a goofy grin that made even the kindest think "touched by God" and
lesser mortals think, "a whole LOT a bricks shy of a load." That only made
the root-workers and widder-wimmen narrow their eyes and nod mysteriously.
They all had the same message for the increasingly-despairing parent:
Wait. It'll come.

"It" came as the last leaves fell in Babe's 19th year. The cooling of the
mountain had been matched with the cooling of the "marital flames" of Zeke
(Ezekiel) Hatcher and his wife, Jez (Jezebel, durn that Good Book; it would
end up in Kings!). They were a young couple of 24 and 18 respectively with
only three children (all girls). Zeke had consulted the root-workers across
four river basins and Jez had pled with the widder-wimmen, all to no
avail. The last root-master Zeke met with (and for whom he brought a wee
dram of the famed Odell `medicinal cider') had seen the shadow of a
skeletal autumn leaf and beneath it (protected by it) three acorns clearly
outlined. His first thought was the protection by Daniel of Shadrach,
Meshach and Abednego. He promptly sent Zeke back to the cider-master
Isaiah, Babe's Pa and the scion of the Odell clan.

Both were sceptical in the extreme, but one brooked the statement of a
root-worker at one's personal and family peril, so Isaiah sent Babe home
with the bemused and befuddled Zeke.

The two arrived home to find Jez in a dither. The chicken had escaped into
the yard through a gap that she KNEW she'd told Zeke a HUNDRED times to
repair and she'd spent the whole day cajoling them back into the coop. Zeke
stomped off in a huff; she had never said anything to HIM about the gall
durned coop and he'd be [bad word] if he'd stay for the unwarranted abuse.

Babe set about to mend the fence in his simple but effective manner. The
chickens, even the ornery rooster, settled around him and stared as if
bewitched as his hands bent cheap wire into a stitch for the coop. Whenever
Jez tried to take out her frustration on this humming, impenetrable and
obviously feeble stranger (amongst the sudden complaint of a dozen
chickens), Babe turned that angelic and rather vacant smile on her and she
relented, confused but strangely mollified.

Within an hour, the rooster was the Master of His (much smaller and
well-fenced) Domain and the hens were clucking and scratching contentedly.
Jez kept fighting the urge to sing along with the atonal but compelling
tune that the simpleton hummed.

Zeke returned an hour later with a brace of rabbits who had not been fast
enough and he dumped them unceremoniously on the table and stomped to the
barn. Babe smiled at the feathers rising indignantly on Jez's neck and
said, "I do that," before following the fuming Zeke. Babe found him
berating the donkey as he mucked the stall and laid fresh straw (the
donkey, well-versed in the inanity of human antics, didn't even bother to
kick him very hard). Babe walked up without a word and pulled Zeke into a
hug, petting his flyaway straw hair.

Zeke went mental, flailing and punching the useless boy he'd collected
earlier that day against his better judgement. He might as well have been
hitting a ball of dough. Each blow was lost in Babe's thick body and Babe
just hugged tighter, petting with long strokes on Zeke's back and crooning
a seemingly-random lullaby.

Eventually the blows gave way to sobs and Babe lowered them both to the
dirt floor as Zeke's knees gave way. For the first time since he was a
bairn in his mother's arms, overwhelmed by some childhood iniquity
inflicted by older and strong boys, Zeke let everything go. The
umble-rumble of Babe's crooning and the incongruity of his vise-like hug
and soft caresses undid this man of the mountains.

It all came out in an unintelligible rush. Something about the fact that
the simple giant could never stitch together the madcap fragments of guilts
and fears and hopes and longings made it easy for Zeke to unload. Babe's
constant rocking and acceptance simply drained the hurt away. Zeke poured
out his fear of being unworthy for Jez. Of being an inadequate lover that
Jez would scorn and run from when she found a 'real man'. Of being useless
and hopeless and stupid and sinful. Of being constantly scared and worried
and uncertain and desperate. Of being... a man.

Babe never stopped his petting, never stopped his cooing and soothing
voice. Zeke finally subsumed into deep and wracking sobs, and again Babe
simply gave comfort. When he'd cried himself out, Babe simply looked down
as the puffy red eyes and said, "Better."

Babe left a baffled Zeke in the barn and returned to the kitchen. Jezebel
was on full boil, furiously cleaning the bunnies that Zeke had dumped upon
her. Babe just walked up and reached around her, ignoring her spitting
rage. Eventually, he worked the knives out of her hands and took over
carefully, lovingly cleaning the two small, fat critters. "Makin a
Fricassee?"

With a scowl mixed between utter confusion and fury thwarted, Jez started
assembling the dredge and veggies required. Babe passed her the pieces and
she began to fry up the rabbit in small batches, moving them to a
cloth-covered platter until all were crispy-brown. While she did, Babe
silently put grits on to boil, immune to the cross looks and glares from
his co-chef.

Zeke came in and Jez rounded on his like a snake, ready to bite his head of
(again). Babe stepped into her line of sight and, in his soft and quiet
rumble said, "Wash." Zeke started to object and Babe simply lost the
beatific smile and repeated, "Wash." Zeke out. Jez could never get him to
wash before dinner, so she looked at this simpleton with curiosity and,
perhaps, respect. Veggies into the roux with broth, rabbit braising, grits
bubbling happily, Jez calmly tending them all.

Babe found Zeke leaning against the rain-barrel, face red with rage and
shame. He rounded on Babe who simply walked up and looked at his hands
before Zeke could wrench them away. Babe frowned and then moved to sniff
the man, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Treating the man like a doll and
ignoring any protest or struggle as if it didn't exist. Babe gently
unbuttoned the man's shirt and used a wet cloth to wipe the day's (well,
week's) sweat away. As his hands moved around the torso to wash the man's
back, Zeke sucked in a breath when he felt the gentle giant's lips and
tongue caressing his nipples.

No one, ever, had touched him there. Zeke threw his head back and groaned
at the sensation, almost crying when Babe finished washing and turned back
to the barrel. Babe use the bucket to ladle out some water then rinsed out
the cloth. Zeke blushed at the sudden greying of the previous-clear
water. His distraction was short-lived as he felt his belt fall away and
Babe pulling down pants and drawers at once, piling them at his
ankles. Zeke was mortified to realise that the tit work had left him
randy... very, very randy, something the giant would be sure to notice.

Babe made no comment at all, but turned Zeke away. The older man was at a
complete loss. No one, not even his mother, had seen him like this or
washed him since he was a bairn, but Babe treated this as a simple, perhaps
even enjoyable task. The man hummed as moved Zeke's body effortlessly and
simply ignored and overpowered any attempt to take back control. Zeke let
out a yelp as he felt his ass cheeks pried apart and the cool cloth begin
to clean him.

The sensation was... beyond. He wiped himself back there every day, but had
never felt the explosion of pleasure from Babe's gentle cleansing. The
cloth made several trips to the bucket and Zeke was horrified at how muddy
the water became. Babe didn't seem to care at all, humming or mumbling
wordlessly as he worked. Zeke was beginning to relax when he squeaked in
shock that the cool cloth was suddenly replace with a warm, wet, stroking
tongue.

These were feeling that he had never even considered. In addition to being
unspeakably dirty, that was one place that no other man, ever, even saw
much less touched. But the feeling rocked through his body, re-exciting his
nipples, making his chest redden with lust and his cock begin to leak. When
the tongue actually plunged past his defenceless sphincter, Zeke cried out
in pleasure. And just as with the nipples, the pleasure was
suddenly... gone. Zeke felt his hole twitching in a desperate search to
re-attract that tempting, teasing tongue.

Zeke slowly rolled back to consciousness and realised Babe had emptied and
refilled the bucket. The soft cloth swiped up his strong, hairy legs,
massaging as much as cleaning, a sensation that sent waves of relief
through this frame. As the cloth climbed, so did Zeke's need. His cock had
never been this hard, this desperate for release... until Babe began to
clean that seam of flesh where his legs met. It was like everything else
had been stringing a fuse that Babe now lit.

Taint cleansed and ready and Zeke near to vibrating with hunger, Babe began
to wash and caress Zeke's balls and cock, sending the desperate man's voice
into high squeals and moans and soft cries. Babe washed and washed the area
until even Zeke know he no longer stunk (much). Babe's thorough cleaning of
the area under his foreskin nearly undid Zeke. It certainly shattered
whatever might have been left of his calm reserve.

The man was absolutely lust-drenched, desperate for the gentle giant to
finish so he could blow a load onto the cabin wall. His distraction was so
complete and he was so lost in his fantasy wank that he nearly screamed
when his member was swallowed into a warm, wet tunnel of licking, stroking,
teasing mouth.

Zeke did cry out, though, when he felt himself enter Babe's throat, and
Babe began to swallow around his shaft and head. Nothing in sleeping dreams
or waking fantasy prepared Zeke for the sensations. Every nerve of his
insanely-sensitised cockhead screamed in pleasure. His balls tightened,
caressed by Babe massive paws. He unconsciously started to thrust, but Babe
was running the show. Babe teased him to the edge again and again until
Zeke thought he would literally lose his mind before...

The orgasm was shocking, stunning, like being bashed over the head with
ecstasy. Zeke left his mind wherever it wanted to run off to and wallowed
in the sexual release. His entire body screamed in rapture. It was unlike
sex, it was beyond mere sex. I was the ultimate release.

Zeke realised that Babe was literally holding him up as he came back into
himself. His legs shook beyond their ability to support a kitten, much less
a full-grown man. Zeke was weeping, pouring tears of pleasure and
release. Throughout, Babe licked and cleaned and crooned that soft, deep,
rich toneless melody he used to calm and settle people in need. Zeke's
blissful contentment evaporated like mist when he looked up and saw Jez's
face in the door, hawk-eyes watching, face a solid and emotionless
mask. She turned and went back into the kitchen as Babe gently reassembled
Zeke's cloths, petting and patting and soothing as he did so.

<eof>

This may or may not become a series; that's up to you. If you think it
should continue, or have ideas that would make it better and thus a good
series candidate, please let me know.

*****

Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
Karl & Greg: 16 chapters .../incest/karl-and-greg/
Canvas Hell: 13 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/
Beaux Thibodaux: 5 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 6 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Mud Lark Holler: 4 chapters .../rural/mud-lark-holler/
Turntable Rehab: 5 chapter .../authoritarian/turntable-rehabilitation-services/

New One-Off: .../historical/that-lion