Short: On the Yellowstone River

[danielXdemedici]

All characters are strictly fictional, and the fictional stories conveyed are for entertainment purposes only. All sexual activity depicted in this work involve characters that are 18 years of age or older.​

On the Yellowstone River Ch 1: The Discovery​

---

I felt my eyes burning, as if they might burst into flames ignited by the sight of my father and Jim, and the memory of what the two men were doing inside my dad’s tent. That view, through the open tent flaps, was seared into my ocular nerves like I had been branded with the hellish image. As If I had stared at the bright sun too long, everywhere I looked, everything I tried to make out with my eyes, turned into the image of my father’s monstrous cock impaling Jim who was laying on his back, on top of my father’s chest, his legs spread open like a cheap fucking fag whore.

I wanted to think of something else, imagine anything else, but every bit of activity in my brain seemed geared to retain the scene I had unwittingly captured of my father tearing apart Jim’s rich caramel-colored pussy. The contrast in the color of their skin, the piercing whiteness of my father, the milk chocolate of Jim’s stretched out cunt, it was all I could think about and all I could see, I did not know how I would pretend to be normal.

I walked around for a bit, hoping some bear would hunt me down to steal the four massive trout I had caught on the river earlier in the day. I was carrying them around like a zombie, my gear tucked into my backpack, fishing pole in one hand, and maybe 30 pounds of fish and ice inside a cooler in the other. I had caught a large brown trout and three rainbows, they were gorgeous, they were about to go to waste, I was so confused.

The day started out with so much promise. It was a perfectly quiet Saturday morning and I jumped out of my sleeping bag at 4:00am, excited to finally go fishing out on the river. This trip had been months in the making as my best friend and I wanted to spend some time out in the wilderness before breaking off for our very different summer plans. Jim, a star receiver on the football team, was expected back in less than two months and he decided to spend a week with me, two weeks at home, and the rest of his time backpacking through France, Germany and the UK. I suppose that should have been a clue. On the other hand, I had plans to work on the family homestead.

I had dressed quickly, making as much noise as possible so as to “naturally” wake Jim. It did not work, and I was forced to shake him out of his deep sleep. Eventually he woke up, nodded and pushed down his sleeping bag so that it gathered mostly around his feet. It was not the first time I had seen Jim hard, we had fucked together a few times – in the same room, not with each other – and I had caught glimpses that I had not wanted to catch. He was big, not as big as me, but he was big, maybe 8 inches, thick, with a bright red cockhead. He was circumcised, my brothers and I, like my father, were not.

My mom had been a true hippie and had insisted on home births for all seven of her children, no vaccines, no circumcisions, just homestead living with our own vegetable and fruit gardens, which we constantly had to defend against critters big and small, as well as our herd of animals, including goats, pigs, cows and a pair of donkeys.

I had never been this close to his dick. As usual, he had slept without underwear, and he did not seem to care that he was showing me everything, hard as stone. To be clear, I didn’t care either, if you are going to play any team sport in high school and college, you will see dicks, thousands of them, it seems. I did not give it a second thought at the time and just threw his pants and underwear from the night before over his torso, encouraging him to hurry up and get ready.

By 4:30am, we had made a large thermos of coffee, and we were off to our family’s favorite fishing spot on the river, about 90 minutes outside of Billings and about an hour from where my family’s 80 acre homestead is located. We had camped away from the river to steer clear of bears and it only took us about fifteen minutes to reach our spot and setup.

“This place is incredible,” Jim whispered.

“Isn’t it?” I replied. “I feel like this is where a man’s mind can be made right about anything. The place is so large, so vast, it feels absolutely all encompassing. To me, it is a type of big, massive womb where I can come and be reborn, remade, reimagined, anytime I need it.”

My dad giggled behind me, “Jonas always was the poet in the family, always a romantic.”

“Never saw that side of him,” Jim laughed.

I felt Jim’s hand squeezing my shoulder. He was a strong man, amazingly strong for someone his size. His natural build was tall and lean and he fought hard to keep enough muscle mass on his frame to make him as fast and dangerous as he was on the field. It was great to be out here with one of my closest friends. Like I said, the day started out with nothing but hope and optimism.

As we sat down, looking back on it now, I could have picked up on strange things happening between my father and Jim. I did not see it at the time, I saw running water, gorgeous lures, the Bull Mountains far off in the distance, close to the breaking sun. I suppose I did see, I just did not register. The constant shifting of their crotches, the wry smiles, the looks between them and then at me, the licking of lips. Over the course of hours, none of it made an impact on its own, it was nothing. Thinking about it now, they spent the entire morning, passing coffee, drinking from the same cup, drinking from the same bourbon flask, smiling, winking, groping their cock and balls, and I did not give it an ounce of meaning.

I recall that around 2pm, my father had stood and said, “Jonas, why don’t you and Jim stay here and see what else you catch? I will go back to camp and put these fish in the freezer. We’ll eat from whatever you catch between now and dinner. What do you say?”

“Sure, Dad,” I replied. “Sounds perfect. I will just finish off the last of the snacks as I go and head back around 6 or 7.”

“Great, buddy,” he smiled at me as he spoke. “I will see you two then.”

“Actually,” Jim spoke up, “I am a little tired. I think I will head back with you and maybe take a bit of a nap.”

Jim looked at me for approval and I nodded. It seemed normal, he was not a fisherman, unused to the luxury of watching water pass you by as you sit comfortably on a boulder under a bit of shade or better yet, as you stand out in the water casting your line.

About an hour after they left, I got a visitor, several visitors, in fact. Perhaps drawn by the guts of the fish we had cleaned, three cubs and a momma bear were making their way towards me. I tried to scare her off but she was alarmed that her cubs were closer to me than to her. She charged a bit and then waited. She was giving me a chance to leave. I knew better than to hang around and while I could have shot the momma bear, I was not going to create three orphan cubs just so I could keep fishing.

I quietly grabbed my things, including the heavy cooler with four trout, and walked away towards camp. The bears stayed near the river and did not follow me further. From the last bend where I could still spot the river, I could see mom was happily fishing while her cubs played in the water and splashed about, pretending to do fishing of their own.

I walked slowly back to camp and found myself there just before 4pm. The sun was hot but a wonderful breeze seemed to pick up every aroma in the river valley and delivered a cooling, refreshing wind that felt like it was cleaning and energizing me from the inside out. I took deep breaths, trying to pick up scents in the air. There was a faint hint of smoke, probably from our camp, but also lavender, sagebrush and peonies. I smiled, I could not help myself. These fragrances always reminded me of my mother. I missed her tremendously but with the smell of her summer garden all around, it was as if she was still here.

Along the short walk, I kept quiet, enjoyed my thoughts and the memory of my mom. Over years of living in this part of Montana, I had learned to move quietly, observe, enjoy nature. As I turned the last corner and could look directly into camp, what I saw seemed entirely unnatural to my eyes.

My father’s large tent was open, the heat inside would have been too much without air passing through. He was laying on the floor of his tent, on his back, his pants and underwear were pushed down to his ankles and his knees were spread far apart. His testicles hung low, out of view behind his crumpled pants, but I imagined they hung to the ground. Laying on top of him, using the pants around his own ankles to pull back his legs and knees so that his ass was completely splayed open, was Jim. Connecting the two of them was a massive cock, thick as my wrist, white and pink, piercing through a tight brown hole, further spread out by my father’s hands which were gripping Jim’s cheeks and pulling them apart. My dad’s hips were moving slightly, punching up just a couple inches into Jim. With each push, there was a deep growl, something beyond a moan. It was a noise full of pleasure and hunger, it was unrestrained and unstructured. It was the type of noise a man might make if he saw the car of his dreams and the keys were being dropped into his hand. Before the yay’s and woohoo’s, the first pleasure often rises from the gut, like a deeply enjoyable punch.

Jim was making these sounds repeatedly. His tone changed, went higher if my dad thrust hard, went deeper if the massive ten inch dick was pushed fully inside of him.

“Take your pants off,” I heard my dad say.

Jim balanced himself on my dad’s chest and quickly removed his shoes, pants and underwear. “Turn around and sit on my fat cock,” I heard my dad order Jim.

“Yes, sir,” Jim replied.

I ducked slightly behind a bush. I doubted they would or could see me. I saw Jim roll off my dad and then quickly spring up on his feet. He straddled my father’s athletic frame as he held up his fat cock. A family blessing, my dad’s cock was truly massive, larger than mine by almost an inch, though not thicker. Jim then lowered himself slowly, squatting down, deep, until his ass was sitting on my dad’s thick carpet of pubes.

He moaned again.

“Fuck yourself you faggot,” my dad ordered Jim. I had never once heard my dad use that word, it was shocking. I felt something when he said it and looked down to notice, for the first time, that my own cock was rock hard and I was stroking it through my pants.

With one last glance towards my dad’s tent, Jim’s athletic back arching and bouncing up and down my father’s thick rod, which seemed to sink and disappear into a massive space inside of Jim that I had never known existed, I decided it was best for me to leave. I quietly turned around and walked over to another favorite spot of mine, an opening near a small natural spring, where I often stopped for water and rest on long hikes or long fishing trips.

I sat next to the spring and thought about what I had just seen. It was hard to wrap my head around it. Jim and I had been friends from the first day of college, from orientation. We were inseparable. Luck had made us roommates and I felt like good upbringings had made us decent people and therefore really good friends to one another. While neither one of us was a wild pussy hound, we had both dated and fucked women around each other, sometimes in the same room. It was an intimacy I thought could not be beat by anything two men might share.

It was almost as if my dad was telling me, ‘Hold my beer.’

My dad. My dad was fucking a man. My dad was fucking my best friend. I could not shake the image of the large, fat spongy tissue underneath his cock, filled and hardened with blood, punching into my friend’s creamy, dark colored ass. I imagined what he must have felt being inside of Jim. Was it coarse and dry like pussy can be in the worst of circumstances? Or slippery and moist? Was it tight? How tight was Jim’s hole? Did they use lube? Spit? How did it even occur to them that my dad should top and Jim would bottom?

That cock though, that big, creamy cock, sliding up and into my best friend. His legs spread open like a cheap slut, his moaning every time my dad banged into his cunt, it was all so much to process. Then when my dad told my buddy to turn around and ride his cock, and called him faggot – and Jim obeyed! Jim sat on my dad’s porky ten inches, sliding down without a care in the world like a loose skank. And then he bounced up and down, his balls probably bouncing on my dad’s belly every time he took all of that cock that was penetrating deep in his hole. I imagined my dad’s dick punching hard into Jim’s rectum, spreading him wider and wider until his sphincter lost its shape and strength.

I bet Jim took my dad’s load into his pussy. Fucking faggot loves cock, I thought. I bet he would love my cock deep in his sloppy holes, I could open his pussy wider than my dad, I bet he would like that. I bet he would beg for it, he has probably been waiting for me to fuck him for three years, watching my big dick when I sleep or when I fucked Tamara, his face was so close, he was hoping it was him taking my cock. He is hoping that right now. He wants to be spit roasted hard by father and son, fucking whore!

I vaguely recall reaching into my pants, squeezing my hard dick, massaging the firm meat, thinking what it must be like inside of him. What must my father be feeling around his own meat? Heat, warmth, sloppy wetness, the fleshy movement of a smooth rectum. It must be tighter than a real pussy, I imagined, in a blend of curiosity and horror. Then something else occurred to me, what it must be like to pierce through a tight sphincter, on a muscled hard ass like Jim’s!

I heard myself moan and suddenly, as if waking from a dream, I noticed my cock was out, dripping cum. I had been jerking off thinking about Jim and my dad and had sprayed my load all over the ground in front of me.

“Shit,” I mumbled, using a bit of the water to wash my hands, clean up and head back to camp. Nearly an hour had passed, hopefully they were done fucking.

But what the hell had just happened to me?

---

For access to the rest of this story and many others, please visit my Patreon page.

 

[danielXdemedici]

All characters are strictly fictional, and the fictional stories conveyed are for entertainment purposes only. All sexual activity depicted in this work involve characters that are 18 years of age or older.​

On the Yellowstone River Ch 2: The Test​

---

I was noisy on my way back into camp. Perhaps too noisy as I found my dad walking towards me, gingerly stepping through to where I was on the path, probably imagining I was an animal he’d be able to scout out.

“Jonas, son,” he called out, laughing. “Why are you being so loud? I imagined a couple of Elk or a sow and her cubs.”

I faked a smile, “I didn’t want to ask for help, per se. But I didn’t mind the thought of someone coming to carry this back the last bit of the way.”

My dad looked at me quizzically, “Guess you had some luck after we left, if it’s that heavy.”

He took the cooler with the fish from my hand, but this only added to the look of confusion. It was not that heavy, not for me anyway. “Why are you back so soon, Jonas?” he asked, turning around to lead the way back to camp.

“Actually, a sow and her cubs came up to the river,” I replied truthfully. Someone had to tell the truth today. “She charged and I decided to come back instead of trying to scare her off.”

“How many cubs?” my dad asked. He loved bears. Suddenly this meant something different to me.

“Three, they all looked strong, healthy. I left her fishing with them out on the river, not far from our spot,” I replied.

“That’s phenomenal, maybe we can go back there in a bit, we have some free time before dinner. I can get started on these, cook up some pilaf alongside,” he chatted on like nothing had changed, like he wasn’t fucking my best friend, thirty years younger than him, my straight best friend with the big black cock, thick as a plantain and a smooth ass the color of toasted chestnuts.

“That would be great,” I lied. “Do you mind if I take a nap, leave dinner to you?”

“Not at all, get some rest, we’ll wake you when dinner is close,” he turned briefly, smiled. He was still my father. Still the center of my moral and intellectual universe, but I had a lot to think about. This felt like betrayal. It also felt incredibly fascinating. Was I being drawn to a train wreck or to the best adrenaline rush of my life? I was confused, and playing like a stuck video loop was the sight of Jim riding cowgirl over my dad’s pale, athletic torso.

“Hey Jonas,” Jim called out, he was sitting on a foldout stool, a travel book on his lap.

“Hey, bud,” I replied, waving weakly.

I explained what had happened and my intention to take a nap before dinner and I slid into our tent. It was terribly warm in there and I too left the door to the tent wide open, pinned back by a tent tie. I also unzipped several windows, letting air flow through freely and creating a relieving, wilderness scent-filled tunnel. I slipped off my shirt and laid my head down and closed my eyes. Sleeping actually sounded like a great idea, even if I was doing it to avoid looking at the two most important men in my life. I could hear Jim and my father whispering. There were giggles and shushes, whispering again.

None of what they said was loud enough that I could make out phrases or coherent ideas. Just a few words, “Again…amazing…next time…careful…no idea…” And with the breeze gently wiping away layers of thought, carrying them out into the wild where they would land on some forlorn rock or dead tree, to bother no one again, I finally drifted off to sleep.

Unfortunately, it would take much more than a single nap to clear out every thought that was troubling me. It did not help that the first thing I heard as I was waking up was, “He must be having some dream! Look at that!” It was Jim who was speaking. I was not immediately sure about what.

“My boys were always gifted,” my dad replied. “Go ahead and shake him gently awake. Dinner is five minutes out.”

I felt Jim enter the tent, blocking the breeze, though it was fine as the sun was currently well obscured by a tall grove of pine trees and the temperature was quite enjoyable. He kneeled, I could feel his hand on my stomach. “Hey, Jonas, it’s time to wake up.”

His hand made small circles, it felt nice on my bare skin. He was so close to my cock, so very close. I was suddenly aware of what they had been talking about, I was as hard as the granite that gave shape to the mountains to the north of us. Jim was within inches of grabbing my hard cock, he was doubtless imagining how well I could have opened him up compared to my dad.

What happened next is unexplainable to me, even though I was the one that did it. Without opening my eyes, I slid my hand easily through the elastic waistband on my shorts and gripped my cock. I massaged it a few times with slow, deliberate jerks, one of which pulled up my shorts high enough that he would see, if he was at all sentient, the thick shaft I had been blessed with. With another move, I swiped my cock across my pubis, letting the head briefly pop out above the waistband and brushing the sides of his fingers. I heard a gasp and felt him move away from me.

A pulled my hand out of my shorts and turned away from him, still pretending to sleep. A minute passed by, Jim had not left. Finally, I felt his hand on my bicep, “Jonas, buddy, dinner is ready,” he said, this time his voice was louder and his shaking much more aggressive.

I turned, pretending to be waking up, “Thanks, buddy.”

I rubbed my face and scratched my head. I turned and sat up in one motion, bringing my knees up a bit off the ground to disguise my massive erection. It all seemed normal. Jim had not just seen my cock and touched it, while hard, he had not been salivating a mere foot away from me. I had not just flashed him. None of this had happened if my nonchalant attitude was to be believed.

But of course, I knew the entire truth. I was the only one who knew the entire truth at that camp. The only thing I did not know was why I had done it.

I took me a few more minutes to finally follow Jim out of the tent. He was quiet as he sat at his stool, my dad handed him a plate and motioned for me to take a seat on the large log bench we had built a long time ago. “Take a seat, Jonas. Dinner is ready.”

“Thanks, Dad. It smells amazing. Did you bring lemon grass for the fish butter?” I asked, knowing he had. The smell was the only thing I could comparably imagine when girls talked about their spa days and the great scents during their beauty treatments.”

“Absolutely, I knew there would be fish and fish love those citrus tones. I also brought actual limes and cilantro, it’s chopped and over on the board.”

Dinner was casual, light, we stayed 10,000 feet high, discussing nothing that any of us would remember, nothing of consequence. Yet in all of our heads were swimming some of the most important thoughts any of us had experienced in quite some time. This was being a man, experiencing so much and doing it on your own, perhaps one or two close friends to whom you could really talk to about almost anything. They key word, the loneliest word, being “almost.”

There was no proper introductory phrase for, “I saw my dad fucking you.” There is nothing that makes this phrase anything less than an atomic bomb destined to destroy every vestige of the friendship you thought you had. Sure, maybe there was a way for it to be reborn, redefined. There was also the very real risk that this phrase would doom our friendship and take with it the best father/son bond I had ever witnessed. We had been model family, model friends. This phrase was a hacksaw, once spoken, nothing could be as it had been before.

And on top of this was my inexplicable behavior. As I lay there in the tent, the rich velvet blue of a warm summer night finally covering us. Darkness had come slowly, the sun retreated only after a long struggle with its own orbit, as if it did not want to leave Montana’s gorgeous mountains, rivers, streams and valleys. But eventually it left, compelled by a greater force, the last of its rays visible only as reflections from the small sliver of moon far off in the eastern sky. The remaining space above us was a twinkly, endless blue.

Underneath, my father in his tent and Jim and I in ours, I stripped to my underwear and laid down, declining to zip or pull the top half of the sleeping back over my body or to close up our tent, it was too warm for any of that. Instead, I laid back, pulled one arm under my head and the other over my abs, letting my fingers slowly run the ridges and lines between each abdominal muscle. I would flex them at times, just to feel the deeper undulations. I let my hand come up, running small circles over my large, muscular, hairless chest, just barely caressing my nipple.

I pushed my hand down into my underwear, with just a few squeezes of my cock, I was hard again. I stroked myself for a few seconds and gently laid my cock down across my thigh, the entire thing was clearly marked and visible for Jim, if he was looking in my direction. A tiny, sudden inhale from him, the gasp of a quiet, discreet man, told me he was indeed looking.

A lot had happened that day and I was not sure what to do next. Jim was looking at my cock, he was surely wanting me to do to him what my father had done. I was not ready to do this, so now what? I was the dog that caught the car, what came next?

I thought about this as sleep began to invade my thoughts. I would be imagining one thing, suddenly there would be a lapse, a pause in the stream of my own thinking, and I would have to start over from scratch. Eventually, one lapse grew and I did not wake up from it on my own, instead drifting deep into a dream filled slumber. There were hands caressing and grabbing at me, at my face, at my hair, some grabbed my arms, my chest. It was confusing, no one spoke, just eyes, sometimes hair, sometime male, sometime female. It was a whirlwind of touching and groping. The hands became more aggressive, cupping my ass, fondling my balls, I could feel one stroking on my cock, more determined than others.

Colors drifted by me in my dreams, the remaining hands and people were gone, their noise and confusion fully abated. All that was left was one hand, one hand and one mouth. I could feel it’s moisture, its warmth, I could hear the sound of saliva against my skin, the familiar sloshing sound of spit being pulled and moved about. It was low, barely there, but I could hear it. I could feel it. It was incredibly real and as I lapsed out of unconsciousness, I knew it was indeed not a dream. I stopped to listen before I opened my eyes.

I could hear Jim breathing, he was next to me, on his knees. One hand gripped the base of my cock, at times sliding down to caress my balls. It felt incredibly good, a pleasure emitting warmth that seemed to be building, stretching and expanding from the head of my cock out to the rest of my body. He could not swallow me whole, he was trying, but the effort to be quiet and to not wake me were hampering his otherwise stellar fellatio.

Of all the things he did, running his tongue across the head of my cock, sometimes under my foreskin, sometimes with the foreskin pulled back, this was by far the best of his work.

I knew I had seduced him, I knew I had tested him and he had fallen, but why? To what end? Did I want to fuck him too? Better than my father? That was ludicrous and my mind refused to entertain the idea for more than the millisecond it took to ask it. Was it for this feeling then? So I could feel him wrapped around my cock like a slutty groupie? So I would always know he sucked my cock? Yes, that was it. I wanted to always know, and for him to share this knowledge, that he was my bitch. My friend by day, my bitch whenever I wanted it.

With that thought landing solidly and resolving my immediate questions, I ended the charade. I took my hand and placed it on the top of his head, pushing him down hard until he was choking on my cock, nearly two thirds of the way to where he was going tonight.

I gripped his hair and pulled him up, “How long have you wanted to suck my cock?” I asked him, my voice low, hushed, but determined.

He looked at me, his eyes were unlike anything I had seen before, swimming in fear and lust all at once. “Since we met,” he replied, glancing back at my cock, eager to return to his apparent obsession.

“Then suck like you mean it, you fucking pussy,” I grunted, pushing his head back down on my mast, this time pushing him until he was coughing, just three quarters of the way down.

I held him down on my cock for long periods of time, testing the limits of his practiced throat. On whom had he practiced? How much cock had he sucked in his young life? He was incredibly good, pushing down to my pubes, impaling himself on my fat dick after just a few minutes of trying. Again, I held him down until he started to cough. He pulled off of me, long silvery strands of spit still connecting us, connecting his mouth and throat to my cock.

“How many cocks did you suck today?” I asked.

“Just you,” he replied.

I slapped him harder than I meant to. A loud clap, like one might hear when ending the life of a miserable mosquito, could be heard out of our tent. My father’s snoring had not abated, he had not heard or had not registered that I was angry with his lover. Would he have cared if he knew?

“That is the last time you lie to me, motherfucker. I cannot abide dishonesty. Anything but that, do you understand?” I spoke sternly, in a low tone. I was dad, he was me, the day I was caught stealing an apple pie from Mrs. Steele’s windowsill. The day I was forced to ride back on my bike, the way I had come, his truck lumbering behind me, and forced to give back the pie and insist on doing a month’s worth of chores to demonstrate my regret. That was the only day my dad ever laid a hand to me. I deserved it; so did Jim.

He looked stunned. He glanced around, his eyes settling on my cock, perhaps it was still lust, perhaps it was the last place he had felt good, perhaps he just liked the look of my beautiful, wrist thick, uncut cock.

“I’m sorry, Jonas,” he finally whispered, no longer making eye contact with me, staring off somewhere near my large testicles, hanging between my legs down to the ground.

“It’s been…two,” he finally answered.

“Yeah, it’s been two. How long has that been happening?” I asked.

His eyes returned to mine. I realized my hand was still gripping his hair. I didn’t let go. Instead, I tightened my grip on him, pulling back a bit, I wanted the truth.

“I don’t know how to answer that. Today was the second time, sort of. The first time was last year, when we were coming back to school. I came to your house that last week before heading in for football camp. I walked in on him in about to go into the shower. He was hard, and so big, he understood what I wanted somehow, and signaled for me to kneel in front of him. I did. I blew him, took him deep inside of me, took his cum in my throat and then I left silently.

That night, we hooked up again, that time he fucked me. I had not been fucked in a long time, he was such an amazing top, an amazing man. He opened me gently, fully, I can’t explain how wonderful it felt. Then he fucked me like an animal. It was the best sex of my life. We hooked up several times that week. I didn’t count, but at least a dozen,” he explained.

“Under my fucking nose?” I replied, incredulous and even a bit impressed.

He nodded, “We were careful, very careful, I guess until today.”

“How many cocks have been inside of you?” I asked.

“Four,” he replied.

I tugged on his hair, pulling his head back a bit, urging more of an answer. “There’s a guy on the team, he and I hook up now and then to scratch the itch, I guess,” he replied. His head dropped down a little, I let go. “I promised him I would never tell anyone about us, please don’t ask me to break that promise, Jonas. Please don’t ask me.”

“You would break your promise just so you can suck my cock?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yes, for you, I would do anything,” he replied.

Whatever he felt for me, it ran deep, much deeper than I had ever realized.

“The fourth?” I asked.

“It’s someone back home, that’s another one I’d rather not say. It’s someone you know,” he looked directly into my eyes and I knew what he meant. There were things better left unspoken.

“Ok, I will let you keep those secrets, though neither is much of a secret to me. We just don’t have to use the words. But I guess that explains why you are such a good cock sucker. No one has ever taken my entire length. Ever. You were made to swallow dick you fucking cunt. So go swallow,” I ordered.

He took a second to let out a long breath, took in another short one, and dove onto my cock which was softening slightly. That was quickly corrected as I put both hands behind my back and let the expert pole licker make his way up and down the length of my shaft, sometimes with his tongue which he would push down to my balls to give them a needed wash, sometimes with his throat which was now stretched and trained two swallow all 9.5 inches of the thickest cock he had ever seen – he later admitted – with smooth, elegant motions down to my trimmed, dark blonde pubes.

“You’re such a good pussy, Jim. Fuck, I wish I’d known three years ago. I would have made you fat and happy blowing all my spunk into you instead of those crunchy old workout towels I used,” I whispered. The sound of my dad snoring was the soundtrack to this blowjob and I seemed to love the thought.

Jim moaned and growled in low tones, softly, quietly. He was practiced at stealth, if it had not been for the sow and her cubs, I probably would never have found out about his talent, about his desire. As he progressed, I felt my load building. Jim did too and without asking, he pulled off my cock, leaving a thick layer of spit and slime in his wake. He turned around to face the tent door and gave me the most amazing view of my cock slowly pushing into his cunt.

“Ooooooh, Jonas. You are so fucking thick! So fucking massive! Shit, that feels good and it burns like fucking hell!” he whispered and yelled at the same time.

I could see my pink meat sliding into his gorgeous dark hole. It was poetry. I could feel his sphincter relinquishing its strength, abdicating its elasticity, surrendering to a life of expansion and stretching. I tilted my head back and focused on the tight grip his honeypot had on my cock. From his ring to the tip of my cockhead, I could feel his insides, tight, warm, squishy, meaty, all his walls were on fire and they were all gripping at my cock. It was wonderful, it was the best pussy I had fucked in a long time, perhaps ever.

When I finally looked up again, it registered on me that Jim had stopped talking and was only moaning again, from deep in his gut. Then I saw it, a shadow, a man, standing just outside our tent. I heard the sound of slurping and for the first time that night, I noticed that the soundtrack to our fuck had been turned off.

---

If you like this story, please consider supporting my Patreon page.

 

[danielXdemedici]

All characters are strictly fictional, and the fictional stories conveyed are for entertainment purposes only. All sexual activity depicted in this work involve characters that are 18 years of age or older.

On the Yellowstone River Ch 3: The Reckoning

_________________

My first reaction was panic, but I did not move. I assessed the situation and decided to continue as I had been. Whatever my dad heard, he knew I was fucking Jim, I was inside the same hole he had fucked and filled earlier that day. His reaction had been to feed my best friend the longest cock in the family. I would not spoil the mood by asking questions now.

Instead, I slapped Jim’s ass and gripped his hips, pushing up into his hole and taking back control of the fuck. No longer would he grind his hole into my cock in a leisurely pace. I began to piston fuck him from where I lay, hard, relentlessly plowing into his hole, making a massive racket the rangers could probably hear thirty miles away.

Jim grunting turned into whining as he continued to host my dad’s long cock down somewhere below his clavicles. Then, as if turned on by a switch, I could hear my dad matching my rhythm, accelerating the face fuck he was giving the young football player, one of the most handsome men I had ever seen.

“You like that, faggot?” my father finally spoke. “You like having my son stretching your fucking twat? I can hear him fucking you like the whore that you are. Your fucking muff will never be the same after my boy is done with you.”

The words were the most erotic I had ever heard and if I hadn’t already been close to cumming, I certainly was now.

“Cheap, tawdry slut. Look at you taking all this family cock. You got twenty inches of us inside of you,” I heard myself saying, my tone was raunch and disdain. “Should I call Stephen and Merrill, we could DP all your fucking holes, give you over a yard of cock you fucking skank.”

Jim was whining wildly, bouncing on cock, eagerly stuffing his face with cock. Then, without a word, I heard my dad’s breathing change. He stopped talking and I could tell if he was not cumming he would be very soon.

“I’m going to dump my load inside of your fucking brown taco, you cock whore. Open up that pussy!” I ordered, though realistically, his asshole was as stretched out as it had ever been in his life.

With just a whine for acknowledgement, I felt Jim, slide down on my cock and with his weight, forced me to collapse on the ground as well. In this position, grinding his ass into my meat, I pushed a massive load deep into his bowels. At the same time, I heard my dad whimper as he pulled Jim’s face deep in his crotch. I imagined Jim’s face was buried in my dad’s untrimmed pubes as he took another load from my father deep into throat.

Then, silently as he had arrived, I saw the shadow leave our tent door. I heard Dad walk to the extinguished fire and throw some more wood on; he stayed there until he had relit the flames. If any animals weren’t scared away by the wild sounds of humans fucking, the fire should do the trick.

Jim stayed on top of me the whole time. He was on his knees, facing away from me. His eyes up towards the sky. At times, he would grind slowly, enjoying the feel of the still massive meaty structure inside of his hole, slushing about in a pool of my own cum. Finally, with Dad back in his tent, Jim stood briefly and stepped outside. I heard the sound of a supply box opening and closing and after a few minutes, he returned. He smelled of hand wipes. He knelt next to me and took two clean ones he was holding and he wiped my cock, lovingly. When he was finished, he tucked the used wipes into our small rubbish bag and then came to lay next to me. His neck stretched out as if he were about to kiss me.

“Dude, you just swallowed a shitload of my brothers and sisters,” I said, not pulling back but placing my hand on his chest to stop him from coming closer with over the line intentions. “I am not even sure I am a guy that kisses other guys, I doubt it, but I don’t know. I am certainly not a guy that kisses guys with my dad’s spunk still between their teeth.”

Jim giggled and kissed my chest, laying his head down right where he had kissed me and draping his arm over the rest of my body. He pulled his sleeping bag over the lower half of our bodies and we quickly drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, we woke up at 4am, as planned. We were still on a fishing trip. It took the alarm to wake me and two fingers in his ass to wake Jim, but we were finally all up and getting ready to hike down the short path to the fishing spot.

On the way there, dad finally broke the silence that had persisted since the night before, “Son, we should talk about this.”

“I know, dad. I am not sure what to say though,” I replied. “Between me doing that for the first time and all I saw yesterday, I don’t know what thread to pull on first. I don’t want us to unravel. I don’t want our bond to suffer in any way.”

“You saw us fucking yesterday, right?” my dad asked. “That’s why you came back to camp sounding like a herd of elephants?”

I laughed, “you noticed I was a little loud?”

“Son, I think they heard you at the space station. I taught you to make your way through the forest like a cougar, that was something else yesterday. When I heard you last night, inside of Jim, I started putting pieces together,” he replied.

“Dad, is Jim…?” I stopped.

“No, Son,” my dad answered my question without me asking it fully. “He is the second man I have been with. The first was, is, Mark Griswold. That started out innocent enough, hand jobs and joshing, nothing heavy. It has turned into a really important friendship and a huge source of comfort to me. I think he always wanted to do it but he stepped forward a couple of years after your mom…after she passed.”

The words were like curtains being pulled back on a window I thought had been open and clear. Suddenly, Mark’s presence in the house, his warmth towards dad and my brothers, all of it had a new depth. Moments between the two of them passed through my mind. Brief touches, inside jokes, suddenly I understood so much more.

“What about Mandie?” I asked, referring to Mark’s wife of over thirty years.

“She’s joined us a few times, loves to be spit roasted. She’s a wild fuck. I would say go give her a ride but the rule between the two of them is that I am the only exception to their marriage vows,” he said, his voice alive and open in a way I had not heard him speak for a long time.

“Son, I hope you will keep this, all of this, to yourself. Your siblings have no idea. We always fucked at Mark’s place, his kids are all out west. Only in the last year since Errol left for college have we been meeting at our place when Stevie and Merr are out on long hunts,” dad explained.

“Well, you fucked Jim while I was in the house, four of us boys were in the house, actually,” I reminded him.

“That was incredibly reckless,” he replied, sighing. “I am shocked we did not get caught, but Jim surprised me in the shower one day and just got on his knees and demonstrated extraordinary skill. After that first time we were careful, only late night fucks and usually out in the barn.”

“There was the one time I got bit up by something from laying on the bale of hay so long while you plowed me hard, Mr. Jameson,” we had almost forgotten Jim was walking behind us.

My dad laughed. I recalled Jim complaining about a massive rash and I helped apply calamine lotion to his back and the top of his ass. I started laughing. Dad turned back to see why and Jim explained, “Your son kindly helped me put on some anti-itching cream on my back and butt. He did not know that I got it all because you had fucked me within an inch of pregnancy.”

“Slut,” my dad and I spoke in unison.

We all laughed and made our way to the river where each of us set up our fishing plans and by sunrise, we were all in the water. Jim was a bit further off and could no longer hear us. I was glad for the space, there were things I still wanted to know.

“Dad, were there other women? Did you ever consider just finding someone new to date?” I asked him.

“No, Son,” he answered me softly, just barely above the sound of the river. “I was so happy with your mom, I could not imagine ever getting that lucky twice. I also did not want to bring someone in who was never going to measure up to her in you and your brothers’ eyes. It would have been very tough on even the strongest of women. And, if you want to hear the whole truth, this was something I was curious about for a long time. I would never have explored it if your mom were still here. I didn’t really need to. But when she was gone, there was this massive void. I approached Mark and asked him what he thought and he volunteered. I suspected he might. You can only get hard so many times skinny dipping before people start to wonder.”

I laughed softly at this. It made sense, all of it.

After a few hours of fishing, I was ready for a break. I returned to the shore, put away all the fish I had caught into the cooler and stripped naked. I swam and walked out to a large rock in the middle of the river and crawled up on top of it, exposing myself to the late morning sun, and to my father and my best friend. Within a few minutes, Jim had joined me. His dark, beautiful skin glowed in the sun, tiny beads of water ran down his taught chest and arms. He had the most defined physique I had ever seen, every muscle was cut, shredded, and ripped to the point that he could have been a live model for an anatomy lesson on musculature. His brown eyes shone, filled with joy and gratitude.

“That was something, yesterday, wasn’t it?” he asked and declared all at once.

“Do you mind all the name calling?” I asked him, not sure if his answer would change my behavior.

“No, not at all,” he replied. “What else can you call yourself when you have a fat cock up your ass? Or even one up your ass and another in your throat? That’s a slut ho…I get it and it turns me on to hear two straight men say it.”

Two straight men; it would take some time to unravel that idea. For the time being, I pushed past it and the thought of my cock deep inside of Jim started to turn me on. I began to pull on my cock and saw Jim doing the same. As the two of us quickly got completely hard, I heard and felt a small pebble crash into the stone just a foot from my head. I looked up toward my dad. He too was naked and hard, but he was signaling us to come to him. That made sense. Canoers, hunters, ranchers, anyone could see us for miles. One guy jerking off is one guy jerking off. Two guys jerking off together, inches apart, well, that’s a different type of explanation.

I jumped into the water and headed towards my dad. He was knee deep in the river but as he saw me coming, he turned to head towards the shaded area where we had left our gear. When Jim and I arrived, we found he had laid out a blanket on the ground. If he had brought a bottle of champagne and some Barry White, we would not have been too surprised at this point.

“Jim, lay down there,” my dad instructed.

Jim did as he was told and laid down, his knees bent and feet on the ground.

“Son, fuck his face,” my dad instructed me, saying words I never thought I would hear him say. “Don’t cum, just open up that bitch’s throat.”

The never have I ever game was going to be much harder to win now, apparently today we were doing and saying all the things all at once.

Still, I followed my dad’s instructions. Perhaps this was not earth shattering, perhaps this could be fun. It seemed possible. If Dad and Mark and Mandie had made it all work, maybe there was a way.

As I knelt over Jim, my legs straddling his neck and upper chest, my ass sitting lightly on his pecs, I felt his mouth open and he eagerly took my chub into his mouth. It took no more than a couple of heartbeats for the thing to be completely engorged with blood and I leaned forward to give my cocksucker the best angle to deep throat me, even while he was laying down.

Suddenly, I felt my father propping Jim’s feet under my arms. He was bending the athletic wide receiver into a pretzel, pulling his ass up off the ground in the process. I turned and saw my dad fingering Jim, a large red tube of lubricant in his hand. He applied some to his long, 10 inch cock, smiling at me as he slid his hand back and forth and looking into my eyes as he pointed his cock at Jim’s tired puck and pushed in with only minimal resistance. His hole was Vichy France and my dad’s cock was a blitzkrieg about to conquer an already weakened, stretched out, defeated foe. I should know, my fat cock had been inside of him less than ten hours before.

From deep in his throat, the sound of a moan vibrated up through my cock and sent shivers up my spine. Without letting his feet escape from my armpits where I was securing them in place, I leaned forward again and started to face fuck my best friend. His moaning was a massive turn on, one that I had not enjoyed nearly as much the night before when he had been far more quiet. He was a whore though, he knew it and he loved it and he loved to make the porn noises whores make when they are being properly fucked. His pitch grew ever higher and I am sure some squirrels up in the trees were thoroughly confused by the new neighbor.

His lust fed something inside of me. I fucked his face harder and felt my dad pushing into him aggressively, he too was ferociously using the wasted hole, pounding my college buddy like a wild animal. I matched pace and would at times slap Jim’s face. Much softer than the night before, but hard enough that he would open his dark amber eyes, stare directly into the sky blue in mine and without saying a word, beg for more cock.

I fell fast and hard into his mouth, punching my hips deep into his face, pushing every last inch of me deep into his craw. He moaned and growled. I felt every bit of sound pulsing through the hard meat I was feeding him. His moans again turned to whimpers. I was still holding on to his feet and had bent him further when I fell into him, his feet now practically next to his ears. This had the effect of lifting his ass up higher a few inches. His sphincter was forced to stretch further as my dad was also buried to the hilt inside of our shared bottom.

I looked back at my dad’s face and we shared the same thought. He jumped up, slipping out of Jim, his cock standing straight out in front of him, a glorious ten inches, though a few were buried in a mass of thick pubes. He stood in front of me, his balls, the place from where I came, were just a few inches from my face. He then leaned down and kneeled over Jim, taking hold of his feet so I could move back and fuck my friend.

From where he was kneeling, my dad grabbed both of Jim’s feet in one hand and used the other to guide his cock into Jim’s mouth. Ass to mout; I might never kiss Jim, I thought to myself. Once his cock was being properly sucked and cleaned, Dad spread out Jim’s legs again and pulled him so that his ass was at the perfect position. I entered him easily. He was lubed and gaped, it was like fucking a mom of ten, except Jim’s rectal cavity was incredibly warm and tight. It was the perfect cunt. Easy to get into and so toasty and slick all you wanted to do was fuck it hard.

Fuck we did, first in this position, then, at Jim’s request we spit roasted him, taking turns in his ass and mouth. I suggested a double penetration but Jim begged us not to do that to him, he did not think he could handle that much cock all at once. My dad pulled us off of the idea and instead, he laid down on the ground while Jim rode him, much as he had when I had seen them inside his tent. This time, my dad signaled for me to come stand in front of Jim and feed him my load from there.

Jim actually came first. He was bouncing wildly on my father, impaling himself mercilessly, much more roughly that I would have dared to do to him. He seemed insatiable when it came to consuming cock. We could have charged him by the inch, he would have paid his life’s fortune and maxed out all his cards.

In the wild bouncing, my dick solidly in his mouth, he barely touched himself when streams of cum began to fly out of his dick and landed all over my dad’s lightly furred chest and belly. I looked at his face, a small ribbon had landed along the side of his mouth. He smiled and licked it, taking in my friend’s spooge. This was too much for me to hold on to and I immediately began to shoot waves of baby batter into the star football player. He was eager to taste me and pulled away until just the tip of my cock was in his mouth. The last few streams landed on his tongue and he savored, pulled and sucked on my cock until he had gotten every last drop.

Somewhere between me feeding our hungry slut and dad licking the slut’s cum off his lips, Dad had stuffed his load into Jim. The sound of his cock sliding in and out of Jim, our very own bitch bottom, changed completely. The sound was no longer dominated by the slapping of skin on skin, ass on hips. Now it was the sound of mac and cheese being mixed over the stovetop.

Jim finally slowed down his grinding over my father’s cock and let my dick fall out of his mouth. I smiled, he seemed genuinely happy, I certainly was. I winked at him and ran directly into the river to wash off the sweat and whatever else was on me. Not more than a few feet behind me were my father and my best friend. We played in the water for a long time, floated away and swam back. We forgot about fish and bears and enjoyed the bonds we shared.

As we were walking out of the water to get dressed and perhaps resume fishing, Jim stepped close to me, his gaze had changed, he looked more intensely at me than he had in a while. Yet, I could tell he was excited too.

“Come with me,” he said, his eyes were bright, a smile adorned his handsome face, his hand gripping my arm with some deep, needful urgency.

 

[Red-wood natural]

Wow dude... The perfect combination of erotic elements... Bravo

 

[danielXdemedici]

Thank you very much! Always appreciate commentary and feedback.

 

[cub_b]

waiting for next part!!

 

[danielXdemedici]

To be honest, I wasn't sure if I'd write the next part, or at least not sure if I'd post it. I know where I want to take it but I also know the limits on this forum. I'll have to give this some thought.

 

[danielXdemedici]

All characters are strictly fictional, and the fictional stories conveyed are for entertainment purposes only. All sexual activity depicted in this work involve characters that are 18 years of age or older.

On the Yellowstone River Ch 4: The Brothers

_________________

We walked out of the water and sat on the blanket, both of us still nude, beads of water clung on to our skin, our bodies moved confidently, with the strength and vigor of youth. I saw dad swim out to our rock and casually lay out on the sun to dry off. His massive cock, soft and meaty, testicles dangling loosely in a gorgeous, hairy sac, all lay on his thigh. He was masculine, the epitome of masculinity. If anyone were lucky enough to canoe past him now, they would see one of the most beautiful things on earth taking in a satisfying helping of sunlight and warm breeze.

“Jonas,” Jim whispered, his arm gingerly touching my triceps, lingering longer than he needed to in order to just get my attention, he wanted to touch me. He was so hungry for man. Years of waiting, only four men had plowed through a hole that clearly was made to take cock, he must have been desperate for more dick, for more men, for more cum inside of his now spent pussy.

I turned my head away from the spectacular view of my father. “Yes, buddy,” I said, smiling briefly. “What’s on your cum drenched mind?”

He smiled sheepishly in return. He was not used to being called out for what he was, not yet. He looked into my eyes. I knew he wanted to kiss me, I knew I would not let him, not now, probably not ever. Somehow the kiss was more than the fuck, don’t ask me to explain.

“I heard you and your dad talking when we left the homestead and I was thinking, what if I stayed?” he asked, excitedly.

“You want to skip Europe just to stay here? You know my dad will put you to work, you can’t just be a sloppy, delicious cunt for the two of us. He is really needing extra help this year to put up the new barn and to rebuild the root cellar,” I replied, not really believing getting fucked was this important to him.

He looked down, then at my cock, at my face and back at my cock. He was debating something, ashamed of something. “You were going there to get fucked?” I asked, guessing if he was that hesitant to spit out his comment, it must be related to his newfound prowess as a cock whore.

He nodded his head.

“Say it,” I instructed.

He looked down at the ground, then slowly back at my cock for a third time, the heavy sausage was starting to chub again.

“Jonas, please,” he replied, hesitating again, still not owning the breadth and depth of his ravenous thirst for man meat, “don’t make me say it. I feel like I will be less in your eyes, like it changes us and we can’t be what we were before, outside the bedroom.”

“Say it,” I replied, more sternly. “You are going to serve this family this summer, then you need to understand your role, Jim. You will be our shared whore and you will work alongside us on the homestead. It’s that simple. But we don’t lie at our place. I could tell it was killing my dad to have hidden this from us. That is partly on you and you need to own who you are. It’s better for you anyway. So, say it or I can’t be sure you understand what this summer could mean.

And as far as us are concerned, things have changed, but I am willing to trade my cock and the truth inside four walls – or out of public scrutiny like we are here – for straight bro treatment out in the world. I don’t want to humiliate you, I just want to use your gorgeous pussy.”

I stroked my cock slowly as a spoke. Jim went from darting eyes to a gaze so fixed on my growing wood that it would have taken every sun in the galaxy to convince him to look away.

“I was going to Europe to get fucked as much as I could possibly get fucked. I wanted to get bred by every nationality I could find. I love cock, Jonas. I love your cock. I don’t want to go there, I want you and your dad and…I want your family to fuck me all summer,” he replied.

The brief pause made me smile. He wanted more than just my father and I and that was perfect, if my brothers would go along with it – not a given but also not completely unimaginable. They were practical men and more adventurous than my father knew. If he had known all they had done as teenagers and young adults, he might not have felt so compelled to hide his relationship with Mark and Mandie.

It was possible they would say no to participating, but they loved my father with all of their heart, just like I did. If fucking Jim was a relief or a source of joy for him, none of his children would bat an eye. Maybe they did not need to learn about it the way I did, that was traumatic. But if at the end of the day, he explained to them what he explained to me, I knew they would be ok with at least letting it happen. More than that, I could not guarantee. On the other hand, we desperately needed the help this summer. The work would be exhausting and long and we were definitely shorthanded.

I spent the next hour, as Jim fished by himself, talking to my dad. It took some convincing but eventually he agreed to let me talk to Stephen and Merril. I would sound them out. We had to decide quickly as the plan had been to drop Jim off at the bus station on our way home after fishing. If the plan was changing, he needed to call his parents, cancel flights, cancel hotels, apparently also a few fuck dates needed to be cancelled. He had been busy on some long-distance dating app.

Less than three hours after pumping streams of cum into Jim, I was sitting at a roadside bar known to our family, not too far from our place. After some strong hugs, and brief hellos, my brothers, Stevie and Merr as I liked to call them, took their places around the table where two beers were waiting for them. My parents had had all seven of their children in a short span of twelve years, from when my mom was nineteen until Errol was born just as she turned thirty-one. I was the third to last, Merr was younger and Stevie was older than me, each by about 18 months. Mom said she loved being pregnant and loved making children with my father, they were all so beautiful, she would say and caress our heads or our faces, sometimes we’d get a kiss as well. I understood this better now that I had seen my father fuck the shit out of Jim, though I did not want to linger on that thought as it pertained to my mother.

“So, Jo,” Stevie started, a smirk on his face as per usual, “what was so important you pulled us from the sawmill?”

I looked at them. We did not hide things from one another. It was not only impossible in a house where five boys shared a room their entire lives, it was also isolating and lonely to keep secrets. Our parents had always taught us to trust one another, to look out for one another and to support one another, through mistakes, failures and hopefully, through the hard work that it takes to succeed.

But there was no manual on what to say when you caught your dad – and later joined him – in fucking your best friend. I looked at them both and began, “I saw something the other night, it changed a lot of things for me, the way I see things, and we need to talk about it.”

“Is it about Jim?” Merr asked.

I looked at him, stunned and confused. I nodded.

“Finally, you blind fuck!” Stevie laughed. “You sleep way too heavy. If that first night dad had been harvesting a live pig, it probably would have made less noise than your cock crazy buddy was making. Dad’s got a massive phone pole for a cock, and your wide receiver was feeling all of it.”

Both of my brothers laughed. You could have knocked me over with a soft whisper. I looked at them, my shock turning to hurt.

“No, Jonas, no,” Merr leaned in, putting his hand on my arm. “You understand it was not our story to tell. Maybe if we had fucked Jim or if we had caught him fucking someone else, but dad, he has a right to his privacy and we were not going to burst through that, especially since we never talked to him about it. We just beat off imagining the size of your bro’s gaping wound after dad was through with him.”

They both laughed again.

“The gape is bigger now,” I replied, my voice still and firm. They shocked me and in return, I wanted the blow to land hard. It did, bringing them both to stunned silence for about three seconds. This was followed by a wild barrage of hoots and hollers, high fives between them, with me, slaps on the back and musings about what Jonas must have done to that poor cunt.

When they settled, I had to ask, “You guys aren’t shocked by all of this?”

They both shook their heads. Merril spoke first, “Dude, who hasn’t plowed a tight asshole once in their lives? Was he your first?” His tone seemed incredulous which made it all the more shocking to me.

“Yeah, he was my first, what the fuck are y’all doing up here?” I asked, my rollercoaster of shock and awe seemingly not yet over for the night.

They both giggled. “Dude,” Stephen replied, “there is a lot more ass pussy than girl pussy out where we work. Once you find one that is desperate for cock, you create a win win situation and come back to it as often as you can.”

My eyes narrowed. I looked at them both, one by one, more than once.

“Noooo! You gross fuck!” Stevie got there first. “No! Never. What is wrong with you!”

“Well, just checking,” I replied. “Apparently I am the last to find out anything.”

“No, Errol is the last to find out anything. He is still a virgin. Found the Lord and wants to wait until he’s married,” Stevie corrected me. We all loved and doted on Errol like he was a delicate, beloved pet. There was not a hint of criticism in Stephen’s comment, just an acknowledgement that Errol was the most innocent of us all.

“So who is your fuck toy, then?” I asked, now more curious than anything.

Stevie and Merr looked at each other, a sheepish grin flashed across each of their faces.

 

[danielXdemedici]

On the Yellowstone River Ch 4: The Brothers (continued)

_________________

Stevie spoke first, “Arthur Cummins.”

I was stunned. Arthur was not Arthur to us, he was Mr. Cummins. And Mr. Cummins was a neighbor that had sold us his homestead a few years back when, after battling with a back injury for years, he had decided he would be better off using his money to buy and run a feed store. The plan had been to let Stevie move to the Cummins homestead once he married and Merr would inherit the family lands as they were the two most interested in continuing this way of life.

Mr. Cummins, for his part, was doing much better without the extensive physical labor required in a large forestry-focused operation. But to hear that the stunningly gorgeous Arthur Cummins, with his 6’3” frame, his long, lean, muscular limbs, ice-blue eyes and Nordic features that at his age made him seem almost Viking like, this was shocking.

“Rune Cummins,” Merril added as he and Stevie broke out in a long series of giggles, punches and snorts.

“Dad and son?” I said, my jaw somewhere near my boots at this point.

“Never together,” Stevie said.

“Not yet,” Merr added, “though we have tag teamed Rune more than once.”

“Jo, you are going to love fucking him,” Stevie leaned in to whisper. “His asshole is so perfectly pink and he keeps it hairless for us, always. It is the prettiest pussy you have seen that can’t give you an heir to your fortune. But fuck, is it fun to try and get that little bitch pregnant. And he is always so grateful, he bakes us cookies and bread, brought over lasagna the last time.”

Merr nodded in agreement.

“Any others?” I asked.

Stevie nodded and looked at Merr. “Two others,” he said in a soft whisper. “Tristan over at the Eagle’s Nest and Mike Lindbergh there behind you.”

Both men were bartenders, both outsiders who had moved to Montana in the last five years. Both men were fit, athletic, known for their ability to score a ton of pussy, and both were in their late twenties. I laughed. Mike looked over at us and all I saw was Stevie wink towards the bar, some agreement had just been struck as another round of beers made its way to the table.

“On the house,” Mike said.

Stevie gripped his cock and shook it towards Mike, there were three other patrons in the large room, all were sitting at the bar and had their backs to us, their eyes trapped, gazes glued to their cell phones. Without warning, Stevie grabbed Mike by the hair and pulled him onto his crotch. Mike was strong, at about 190 pounds of lean muscle and one inch taller than Stevie’s six feet, he could have wrecked my older brother. Instead he let himself be pushed down and licked and bit through Stevie’s pants until Stevie was completely hard. The two disappeared into the bathroom. They returned quickly and with only a brief glance towards me that said, the back door is open for you too, Mike nodded as we walked out the door, paying nothing for our drinks.

I explained my plan as I drove my brothers to the camp site. I then parked just off the main highway, not wanting my dad to know I had arrived. I walked quietly in the late afternoon, the smell of fish stew floated by from time to time over the ten minutes it took me to reach the campsite. I knew my dad’s cooking from half a mile away. Once there, the familiar noise of hips slapping on ass greeted me, as I hoped it would.

The scene was much as it had been the day before, though this time it was all happening outside, near the fire. My father was on his back, this time fully nude and, riding him, his chocolate colored hole filled with creamy, fat cock, was Jim. Jim was bent over, he was kissing my dad. The same lips that had been wrapped around my cock, the same tongue that had licked my cockhead, savored my cum, was now inside of my father.

I stripped off my clothes and walked as silently as I could until I was just ten feet away. I knew my dad heard me when I saw his eye open and he glanced toward me. The one eye I could see from behind Jim’s head winked at me and he continued to face and ass fuck my best bud like a wild beast. I reached for the bottle of lube and for the first time, Jim realized I was there. He did not pull off of the kiss with my father but just winked his eyebrows briefly.

He saw me grab the lube and whatever he imagined was about to happen, it was not what I had in mind. I know this because as soon as I lay my cock on top of my father’s, which itself was thrusting rhythmically into Jim, the whore bottom realized he was about to be double penetrated and he put up a very brief, very unserious fight.

“No, no, please, Jonas, no!” he begged, held in place by my father’s tight hug.

“No?” I asked, pressing my cockhead into his hole lightly. I could feel my father’s dick sliding underneath mine. It was soft, thick and it glided through with ease. It was the first time since I pumped out of his dick and into my mother that I had touched it in any way. It felt like silk and it felt like fire. I was so turned on I might not have stopped even if Jim’s resistance had been real. Luckily, with just a few soft bits of pressure into his wasted sphincter, he relented.

His body relaxed and he dropped fully onto my father’s chest, “Go slow, please.”

I did, I wanted to feel my dad’s dick gliding under mine, into our shared space, our shared hole, our shared cunt. It took a few minutes of pushing and wild pronouncements by Jim that he was too small and too tight.

“Not for long, you fucking faggot slut,” replied my father, a light slap reminding Jim to keep the noise down. As I pushed my way into the tightest hole I had ever felt, I was amazed at how warm, slick and constricted an asshole could be if it was stuffed full of Montana man sausage. I began to match my dad’s rhythm, him out, me in, him in, me out until I could feel Jim’s hole completely opening up to us. We could then both fuck him in perfect rhythm, his sphincter a wasted rubber band loosened and dilated like a pussy that had just given birth to quintuplets.

“Room for two more?” I heard a voice behind me.

My dad nearly jumped up but the weight of Jim on his chest and me on his legs kept him in place. He looked at me in sheer panic, he knew the voice, he knew his children. I looked at him and smiled and I could see a quick succession of emotions shade his expressions – there was fear, shock, confusion, annoyance, recognition and finally, joy. When he reached the final reaction, he smiled, reached up and gave me a light slap on my face, much lighter than what Jim had been receiving, but a slap nonetheless. I felt my cock harden through this and I winked at my dad as Stephen and Merril took their spots in front of Jim who suddenly realized more people had arrived. He almost jumped out of his skin but, seeing that the men were naked and that these were my brothers, he thought no more about it and immediately began to suck on both of their cocks at the same time.

It was not an easy task and at times he would take turns between them. Both men were just over 8 inches, both had veiny, thick cocks, as thick as my dad. Stevie had particularly large balls that hung low, quite low. It was clear Jim loved these as he spent a disproportionate amount of time sucking, licking and cleaning the musky nuts. I noticed both of my brothers had trimmed pubes. I was not sure when that had started, it had been years since I had seen them naked this close, but it suited both of them. Merr had a model perfect cock, straight, thick, pink with a light, rose colored glans that was much larger than Stevie’s. It was nearly as thick as mine, though I was still the thickest cock of them all.

After a few minutes of sucking their cocks, Jim shot me a quick look and I knew what he wanted. I pulled out of him and tapped my dad’s leg. He kissed Jim quickly on the lips which elicited giggles from Stevie and Merr, and he stood up, pulling Jim with him. He did not pull his cock out quite yet. Instead, he walked over to a large rock and standing with his back to it, helped Jim, whom dad was basically carrying while still inside of him, place his feet on the rock to help support his own weight.

For his part, Jim held on to my father like a faggot Koala. My dad signaled for Stevie to join in and Stevie walked up behind Jim and, much as I had been doing a minute earlier, began to double fuck my best friend who was now the tuna salad in the middle of a Herron family cock sandwich. Once Stevie was inside of him, my dad signaled for Merr to come take his place. They danced around a bit but succeeded in keeping Jim upright while Merr took up the second cock position inside of the star wide receiver.

Dad and I stood next to them, slowly stroking our cocks. At one point I tried to jump up on the rock to feed Jim my dick but Merr was having none of it as my balls were landing on his shoulder and my cock was gliding right past his cheek.

“Off, Jo, that’s gonna kill my wood,” He complained.

It did not take long before I could see that both Merr and Stevie were dumping their loads into the young athlete. He too spewed a massive load onto Merr’s abdomen who at first did not seem to mind too much, though he quickly headed out to the river to wash up. It was an amazing sight to see them both walking away towards the river naked and sporting swollen chubs; we were animals of this forest.

As they left, my dad sat on the same rock Jim had been using to hold up his weight and he invited Jim to sit on his cock. Jim seemed to hesitate but with two waves of his cock my dad simply reminded Jim, his voice steady and only slightly angry, “You don’t say no to this cock you fucking slut, or to any of the Herron boys, not ever!”

Jim nodded, smiled and straddled my dad, easily fitting the large dick inside of his spent, cavernous twat. I slid in as well and again we were able to enjoy a somewhat tight hole. The warmth and slickness of my brothers’ cum did not escape me. I imagined Merr had cum most as Stevie had already used one load to get us free beers. Within minutes, my dad and I were refilling the caramel hole with creamy loads. I could feel them dripping out of his hole onto my balls and legs. My best friend was absolutely full of my family’s cum.

I pulled out of him, gave him a light slap on the face and said, “Let’s go wash up you fucking whore.”

He nodded and put his arm around me. With my dad behind me, at times sliding his fingers into Jim to play with the loads inside of him, we walked side by side all the way to the river.