Jack's Long Story Short by Jon Hold Copyright ฉ 2016 jonhold@earthlink.net
Long Story Short: I was in Texas on business. This dude, Jack (married, 5'6, 160 lbs, size 12 feet), worked at a site I was touring. Let's just say -- those big feet match his big dangly cock, and his libido!
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Jack's Long Story Short
by Jon Hold
Copyright ฉ 2016 by the Author
jonhold@earthlink.net
Long Story Short: I was in Texas on business. This dude, Jack (married, 5'6, 160 lbs, size 12 feet), worked at a site I was touring. Let's just say -- those big feet match his big dangly cock, and his libido!
Short Story Long:
I was touring some new properties my company had recently acquired. Basically, mid-Texas oil and gas wells, most held in reserve for a yearly government subsidy. The way I figured it, the entire cost for the deal would amortize in about three years and then start paying the taxes for the company. I was lucky to be able to jump on this deal when the holding company got into legal trouble and needed ready cash, which I had aplenty. If my inspection had good results, I'd close the deal, not in the long term interest bearing deal they expected to be making their profits from, but in a cash, one-time payment. They were going to object, but the crooks should have read ALL the fine print! My "Final Balloon Payment" was going to be the only payment. They were about to find out that they'd "suckered in" a barracuda!
Well J-18 was pretty much out in the middle of out in the middle of nowhere. When I pulled up there was an old motorhome parked next to the drilling platform, the generator was running and there was no one in sight. I checked to make sure my .44 Magnum was in easy reach and beeped the horn. A guy walked out from the wellhead. WAY dirty jeans, battered white (Maintenance) hardhat, beat up old size 12 dogger boots, and a blue scarf around his neck. His torso, arms and hands were what weightlifters can only dream about. Hours of hard work on drilling rigs had sculpted his body into a work of art. A marble sculpture of him would be no harder than his magnificent physique.
He started to walk over to see who was beeping at him and I nearly shot in my pants. He must have stuffed a length of drill pipe down the leg of his Levi's. NObody had a dick that big! Nobody!
"You're trespassing, mister. I'm supposed to ask you to leave." He said in a firm, polite voice."
"Well, since I own the well I doubt I'm actually trespassing, don't you think?"
"You must be Mr. Hold, the new owner."
"And you must be Jack, the man who maintains these properties."
"Yes, Sir. Jack Dawkins. Do I need to be looking for a new job?"
"Why would you ask that, Jack?"
"Most of these wells are in pretty poor shape. I try, but I can only do just so much."
"Hum. Why do you say that, Jack."
"The first thing the guys that bought these rigs did was to fire the other two maintenance men, put me on a fixed salary, and set me a schedule impossible to keep up with. I try, but there's just so much one man can do."
"What time did you start work this morning?"
"Dawn, just like always."
"Hummm" I said, looking at my watch. "Breaks?"
"I take an hour for lunch during the worst part of the heat."
"Hummm. Can I get you to invite me into your motorhome and offer me something cold to drink?"
Jack looked me up and down and thought a bit. "Sure. Sounds good to me. You go on inside and get something to drink. Cold fried chicken in the icebox if you're hungry. Potato salad is pretty good."
Jack jumped down off the platform. And started undressing, putting his clothes and boots on the wood bench next to the door. "Don't like trackin' the mess into my house. I just nodded and watched gloves and hardhat, boots, socks and then the dirty Levi's taken off. That wasn't a drill pipe in his pants. Well, not a steel one anyway! Jack walked around the motorhome and I heard water running soon after. What the fuck! The little stud was either a nudist at heart, or advertising the goods. I hoped he was advertising as I followed the board walk around the motorhome.
Jack just smiled as I joined him under the shower, took the soap from him and started washing his awesomely muscled back.
"How long you been doing this sort of work?"
"I was in High School when I started. Old man Peyterson owned it back then. He was a real oilman. Not one of these college boys playing at being business moguls. He let me work weekends and holidays if I kept my grades up."
"Did you?"
"Guess so. Graduated class valedictorian... Oh! O' my god!" He said, bending forward, grabbing the railing and spreading his feet so he didn't fall over. "Where the hell did you learn to massage like that?"
"Worked my way through College doing therapeutic massage."
"Damn! Well you just go ahead with your practicing. I don't mind!"
I laughed when he was cut off by his own moaning. I didn't get any "Stop!" signals from him so I kept right on going. Standing bent over like that made washing his ass easy. Easy and wonderful.Washing/massaging his solid ass was a joy, running my fingertips through the cleft let me know for sure he wasn't likely to react negatively to any thing I did. I loved the male body. And this little stallion was as near to male perfection as anyone was likely to get. The best part was that washing and massaging, being washed and massaged was sensuous as hell for both of us, it wasn't really sexual for either of us. Having freedom to touch, and to be touched was the joy and satisfaction of our interaction, of our getting to know each other. Knowing that, later, we were very likely to find ourselves fucking like a couple of bunnies on viagra.
I ended up sitting on the shower floor with Jack's still bent over body shading me while I thoroughly washed his groin, laved his scrotum, and most carefully cleaned the loose skin of his truly heroic blunt-nosed tunnel worm. Gently rinsing off (NO soap, ever) under his foreskin I looked up at him and smiled. You have a really nice... (he grinned ear-to-ear as I sat there holding his cockhead) "... pair of titties there!"
He laughed. One of his thick, powerful hands came down and held my chin, my face, as his powerfully thick thumb explored my mouth. I just sat there eyes closed as I continued washing his long hangers. The skin holding his truly superb sperm factories was totally relaxed and smooth as could be, feeling like high priced, super soft velvet in my gentle, caring hands.
"Why is it I get a feeling that my new boss has every intention of using me for stud service?"
"Why is it that you're such a stud?" I asked. "But seriously, Jack. Your job is secure. My front man was impressed with your work ethic and the way you honestly were trying to do your job, even though your bosses were mercenary pricks with no moral conscience at all. We need to talk."
We rinsed off and wrapped each other up in big beach towels. Went inside and talked while he put together a "little snack". Home made fried chicken, not store bought like I expected. Really good potato/egg salad, buttermilk, cornbread, real butter, the works, including hot apple pie รก la mode. Yummy good!
We talked. I discovered a few things. He was married. His wife had been living with one of his bosses and he'd just found out that she had managed to put him far enough in debt that he was unlikely to ever dig his way out from under! He described, in detail, major problems with all of the equipment, none of which had been revealed in the sales information. Quite the contrary. They had assured me that with a little work to take them out of "storage" they'd be up and running in next to no time. I set some wheels in motion and then enjoyed the rest of my lunch.
I declared a holiday, so we cleaned up the mess we'd made and went out on his makeshift porch and kicked back on his lawn chairs. Belching `n farting 'n digestin' 'n talking. I got a pretty good idea of what I had only suspected. Jack was an amazing font of information and had no love for the suits who had cheated Peyterson's old woman out of her inheritance.
Dark settled in before either man noticed. Jack took it for granted that I was going to spend the night. We'd been drinking beer, not enough to get fucked up, just relaxed and feeling good. Drinking and driving was something Jack never countenanced. Strongly! Then there was the problem of me ever finding my way to a paved road in the dark on the local maze of dirt roads. Matter of factly, Jack said it was bedtime and that we were going to get into his bed. My sleeping on the couch was never discussed. Jack used his small bathroom first. I stood there naked, leaning against the built-in closet, talking with Jack as he used the toilet, brushed his teeth and washed his hands and face. He'd removed the door from his tiny, but efficient, bathroom making it less claustrophobic... and a lot more public.
When he moved out of the small room/alcove, I moved in, repeating his performance. Jack had thoughtfully put a brand new toothbrush out for me. I added one little thing to Jack's routine, I opened the medicine cabinet and, as I expected, found a large jar of Aboline. Before I was completely done lubricating myself, Jack was fully rampant and raring to go!
Seeing Jack in the mirror turned me on and scared me a bit at the same time. I admit to being a bit of a size-queen, OK, so I lied! So what if I am a dyed-in-the-wool card-carrying cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die size worshiper, First Class. Jack didn't have damn thing to worry about! He qualified, in anybody's little black book!
I turned and there he was very muscle defined and pumped. Not work-out pumped. Just every-day, standing there doing nothing pumped. Not really pumped, just that big and full from long, hard physical labor. Looking more closely his hands looked powerful but his fingers were the short fat kind. Closer perusal showed him with normal length fingers. Normal fingers with every muscle, pressure pad and callus over-developed and solid hands that could grip and twist a twenty-one foot length of drill pipe.
I was still standing there, bemused by his perfection when he took a step forward and put his hands on my hips, his rampant organ coming from below to poke me in the balls. "You sure you want to do this? If you get me going it's unlikely you can stop me until the dam breaks, won't take me but a minute to fold the couch out and put sheets on it.
"Shut the fuck up and take me to bed already!"
"SIR!"
OK, Shut the fuck up, Sir."
He just shook his head, took my hand and pulled me down the two feet of hallway from the bathroom to his bed. Somehow I ended up on my back with the little stud on top of me, and in total control.
"I don't much like beating off and I ain't been laid in over eight months. I'll probably squirt before I even get in you. I recharge pretty quick though, at least the first four or five times! You ready to go, or do you need a little lovin'?"
"Jack. This is all about you tonight! You do whatever your little heart desires. We can worry about all that other crap once you're on a more even keel. Fuck your brains out, Stud! I'll do my best to keep up with you. Now shut-up and do me!"
Jack grinned a totally evil grin, slid his body up my torso, dragging that fat cock across my belly the whole way. He kissed the tip of my nose. Starring into my dilated, cloudy eyes, "Yeah! You're ready! Totally!"
That started the best night in my life.
Jack brushed his dry lips across mine. Gently. Softly, Quieting, Calming. When I finally settled down he pressed his lips to mine and ก กKISSED!! me. That melted my ego. I was totally under his control. He acknowledged that by gently slipping his full, fat tongue past my teeth and into my mouth. No forcing required.
As soon as I felt pressure my mouth automatically opened to his leaking foreskin. As he made his first gentle thrust into my body, my lips pushed his loose foreskin back, exposing his smooth jaw splitting buttplug to my questing tongue. Searching, and most happily finding textures and flavors beyond anything my most vivid imaginings had foreseen. Clear, sweet lube leaking from the pouting lips of his pisstube in a stream of rich, fulfilling slickness. The pebbly texture of Jack's big butt buster was a tactile wonderland just begging to be played with, repeatedly!
My tongue finally got around to sliding over the high ridge of the widely flared corona. Wiggling its way down between the firm backside of the big mushroomed head and the soft folds of the bunched up foreskin where I found the overnight collection of a healthy stallions smegma. Rich, heavy, pervading odor/flavor/taste swelled up my tongue, flared my nose and made me want to whinny. This disgusting collection of his thick foreskin's exudate made it imperative that Jack be properly punished for this egregious display of his revolting masculinity. I gave the offending area a severe and prolonged tongue lashing! Poor Jack was laying there, moaning and tossing his head back and forth in near total agony. I hated being so cruel (like hell I was!), But Jack had to be taught the consequences of such behavior.
Jack suddenly doubled over my head, using my ears to support and guide himself as he pumped blast after blast of thick, heavy, clotted white pudding into my mouth and directly down my throat. When he was finally done expressing his personal anguish I said, "That's OK, Jack. I accept your apology!
Jack laughed, "Don't worry about it. You'll have plenty of time to apologize later. With that the little stud began convincing me that he was the best kisser since Valentino swapped spit with Mae West. Sucking my lips `til they were swollen and super sensitive. His pointed tongue cleaned out my nares before sliding down to my ears to provide them with similar servicing, ending up with my entire ear in his hot, sucking mouth, his tongue solidly tracing the convolutions of my ear. An eternity later he slowly kissed and licked his way down the sensitive channel behind my ear.
His lips reached the flat surface of my neck. His broad tongue started licking wide swaths up the sides and back of my neck, eventually finding the supersensitive spot below my ear, right over my jugular vein. He started kissing, his nose pressed against my neck, hot blasts of his breath pretty much telling me how truly horny he'd become. The wonderful feeling of his kissing me finally awoke me to the real word. His kissing resolved itself into the reality of---he was giving me a hicky the size of a fifty cent piece. He was marking me as his! I started to fight him off, then suddenly realized that he was marking me. Telling any other stud that might cross my path that I was spoken for, to back off or suffer the consequences.
My stallion laid me down on my back with my head hanging over the edge of the mattress. "Be calm, relax. You might just enjoy this..."
Jack left the room saying, "relax. Just let yourself be. If you feel like taking a nap, go ahead. That would let me know how safe you feel in my hands. Nap, I'll wake you gently. You're safe. I'm here for you. Relax... I laid there. Happy. Feeling warm and good. I could feel my hicky's. My stud had marked me as his, and I was safe. Really, really safe. Warmmmmme....
I guess I did nap. At least a little. Not so deep that the taste of stallion in the air was hidden from me. I felt softness just barely touching my lips. Left to right. Right to left. Barely touching. The smell of male. Taste of man in heat.
My eyelids finally rolled open revealing thick, smooth, pellucid. Roundly oval first swelling covering something larger under the unblemished pale skin then parabolic slope reaching puckered tassel gliding back and forth, its softness kindly seeking entrance into the warmth. My pursing lips returning the gentle kiss as my eyes feasted on true male beauty. Long pendulant fragilely thin skinned sack being stretched down by the bluntly ogive egg-like weights that they protected so assiduously swaying ever so gently to the movement of sharply delineated groin and belly muscles that smoothly contracted and relaxed causing the ponderous shaft and nut load to kiss the lips they wanted to be kissed by, Lips that pursed and returned the solemn invitation.
Hips moving gently forward, lips parting in welcome. Oral friction causing the entering glans to roll out into the warm, wetly welcoming buccal cavity where the welcoming tongue laved and gently greeting its welcome guest, carefully washing its "feet" as a proper host should. Softly sucking, tongue caressing, cheeks suddenly sucked in causing the bald glans to swell and totally fill the welcoming antechamber to my body, my jaws so widespread they creaked. My tongue trapped, unable to free itself,
A throb,more swelling an another, stronger throb. A blasting convulsion. Thrumming, blasting thick clots of cum too long pent up slamming into the back of my mouth, gagging me, choking me, Desperately trying to swallow, to provide some sort of airway. Powerful hands holding my head in position as thrusting loins pounded the entrance to my throat. Testicles slamming into my head, soft folds of hairless skin sticking to my forehead, pulling my eyebrows down with every lusty lurching hunch...
Cockhead shrinking, pulling back. Finally allowing an airway. Jack pulled back, a streamer of natural lube and thick cum following his cockhead down between his still quivering thighs. He bent over to kiss me, noticing that I wasn't home. He also noticed that I wasn't breathing. I woke up/came to/recovered/whatever with a powerful young man covering my mouth with his and breathing for me. Languidly kissing back, my arms wrapped around him, glorying in his warmth and the awesome muscles of his back and sides. My arms were long enough to wrap all the way around him. He felt wonderful!
Still osculating like a pair of vacuum pumps, I maneuvered his tight body up into the bed and then all the way over until his entire weight was on top of me. Breaking briefly from our intense lip-lock "Should you ever get the urge to sleep on top of me, I love feeling like my lover trusts me---and I love being under a man."
He smooched me and then asked me if I also liked the feeling of a man' piss hardon when he woke up on my back in the morning. I smooched him right back, "Kind of depends on whether he wants to dump piss or cum in me first."
He smiled and said, "Be surprised!"
2 b continued?