The Hunter

When my mother agreed to allow my uncle, her brother, Greyson, to take me on a hunting holiday in the rustic outback of the Canadian wilderness, nothing could have prepared me for the summer holiday that I was about to undertake. I had seen very little of Greyson as I was growing up. My only recollection of Greyson was that he was a huge hairy oddball, who lived a rustic existence and did not like human beings. Greyson had no time for the modern world.

This scenario was not what I had envisaged for my holiday after finishing school. On my mothers’ insistence, however, I got left with no doubt that she believed, that it was time for me to get a taste of the great outdoors and see how the other half lived. My mother came from a very rural family who thrived on the outdoor philosophy.

My dad was a real city boy and found that ‘bucolic milieu,’ as he euphemistically put it, somewhat unsettling. Simply put, my dad preferred buying his meat in supermarkets, wrapped in polystyrene and plastic. The thought of killing and skinning an animal was anathema to him.  During my childhood, we, therefore, saw very little of mum’s family.

Having ‘outed’ myself to my parents, I also believed that my mother felt that a bit of toughening up could do me no harm, although my parents did not seem too perturbed by my sexual orientation.

When my uncle fetched me from the airport, before our four-hour journey to his cabin, I laughed as the onlookers stared at the bearded mountain man who was collecting me. The trip home was scenic but quiet. Greyson was certainly not one for idle chatter. What I did learn, to my great joy, was that he very seldom saw real bears. The other thing that pleased me was; as it was summertime, I would not freeze to death.

I was very impressed with Greyson’s home. He had solar panels, small wind turbines, and a generator for all his backup electricity needs. The cabin structure was solid, and all his self-made furniture was of reclaimed wood. The place was overtly masculine and had a very earthy and woody odour, permeated with the smell of tobacco because Greyson was a pipe smoker.

Apart from the large living area that combined the dining area, kitchen, and lounge, there were only two other rooms: A large main bedroom with one large bed and an adjoining bathroom and toilet.

I was both a little shocked that we would be sharing a room, but more significantly, that there was no door to close off the bedroom from the bathroom area. Everything was just open-planned. Because Greyson never had any female visitors, he explained that he had not wasted his time making the supplementary door.

Another aspect of his lifestyle that now also surfaced was that he had no television and poor internet coverage. Therefore, my phone got placed in the bedside drawer and left there until I needed to phone my parents.

“When we are hunting or fishing, we don’t need to scare off our prey with the unnatural noise that phones make when they ring,” he informed me, further strengthening his philosophy.

My primary concern was that I would get expected to descale and gut fish or to skin and cut up animal carcasses. Like my father, the thought of this traumatized me.

On the first night, we would be having stew, which had already been premade and only needed heating. Although the stew was delicious, the dinner conversation was worrying.    

“I hope you are not sensitive to nudity because I always sleep naked,” Greyson informed me.

Flummoxed and having assumed I would be sleeping on the couch, I innocently nodded before presumptively asking, “Which sofa would you prefer me to sleep on?”

“Why would you want to sleep on a sofa? The beds big enough for two and much more comfortable,” he replied with a tone of disbelief, “But it’s your call... Quentin,” he resolved with a challenging tone in his voice.

Once we finally arrived in the bedroom later, as I stood looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights, Greyson now nonchalantly began stripping. Sharing a bed with my uncle was not what I had imagined. Although I was not anticipating any sexual interplay between us, I was, however, intrigued as he undressed. Greyson was fuckin’ hairy and had a splendidly manly body. Unable to help myself, I also had a glance at the thick snake popping its head out of a thicket of hedge plant. Had he not been my uncle, I would have been amenable to a tête-à-tête with him. Daddy types had always interested me.

As he lay on the bed, he gave me a mischievous smile as if daring me to join him.

“Make up your mind, buddy,” he chuckled as he revelled in my discomfort.

Awkwardly, I now began to undress. As I was about to get on the bed, Greyson said, “You’ve got a nice body, Quentin.” There was nothing solicitous in his tone.

I was about to return the compliment but decided to be cautious. I was sure that my mom had told Greyson about my sexuality and figured that Greyson was trying to demonstrate that he was cool with me being gay. As I lay next to him, a heavenly odour began enveloping us as his masculine essence draped over us. I soon had to turn on my side, facing away from him because I could feel the excitement beginning to pulsing through my body. I was greatly relieved when he turned the bedside light off. As I lay next to him with a raging erection, I could hear his breathing becoming relaxed as he drifted off to sleep.

‘Oh, Jesus, this holiday is going to be harder than I thought,’ I mentally ruminated. ‘Christ, I am lusting after my uncle.’   

To make matters worse, as he later turned his body, I could feel the back of his hand touching my back. It felt like a red-hot iron was scorching my back as I lay there trembling. Overcome by lust, my hand moved toward my cock. After my fingers and palm sleeved my dick, a few gentle manipulations I shot a massive load.

I am not sure how long it took, but thankfully, I drifted off to sleep a while later.

When I awoke the following morning, Greyson was standing next to me on my side of the bed.

“Wow, buddy, it looks like you had a wet dream,” he stated as he looked at the dried crusty muck on the sheet.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” I embarrassingly gushed.

“Don’t be… I’ll take that as a compliment,” Greyson chuckled.

Not sure by his was insinuation, I was nonetheless even more embarrassed by my morning glory. Noticing my discomfort, he simply laughed, and after extending his arm, he ruffled my hair.

“That’s perfectly normal, and by the way, you’ve got a nice cock,” he concluded.

I began to feel like I had entered a parallel universe before he said, “Come and let’s go eat some breakfast.

As he led the way, naked, my dilemma seemed to know no bounds. ‘How the hell am I going to control myself?’ I thought.

In contrast to a quiet trip from the airport the previous day, Greyson had become far more communicative. Factually, I now seemed to be the far more restrained of the two of us. Nervous as I was, however, Greyson was beginning to intrigue me more and more, and I was finding myself becoming unnaturally lustful. Sinful as it would be, I wanted him to pounce on me and fuck the hell out of me.

“Don’t you miss female company?” I inquired, roguishly hoping for a positive result.

“Nah… Too much trouble,” Greyson succinctly replied before adding, “I’d rather take care of my own needs.”

“But do you have male… Buddies?” I persevered, hoping that a revelation was about to materialize.

“Quentin, are you asking if I have male, fuck-buddies?” Greyson asked scornfully.

“I, I… wasn’t insinuating anything,” I stammered.

“Mmm, okay, I’ll take your word for that. Quentin, let us set the record straight right away. I have done it all, males, females, threesomes, orgies. The fact of the matter is, I am a loner and prefer my own company. I know I am an oddball. The only thing I’ve never done is incest,” Greyson concluded.

‘Oh shit, I’ve overstepped the mark,’ I thought as my guts began to churn.

“In any case, buddy, that’s not why you are here. I have no intention of taking advantage of you, and if the nudity thing is bugging you, we can rectify that,” Greyson apologetically replied.

It now dawned on me that Greyson was worried that his comments about my cock and body had disturbed me.

“Greyson, I am relaxed and have looked forward to this visit. The sleeping arrangement and nudity does not worry me at all,” I proffered with a huge smile.

With a look of relief, Greyson said, “Well, let’s get on with breakfast and get to the river for some fishing.

My first fishing expedition turned out a lot more enjoyable than I had anticipated. Greyson explained that he did not like freezing fish because, in his opinion, it spoiled the taste. Greyson was very patient and a great teacher, and soon I was enjoying the outing enormously. He was very fussy about the two fish he finally selected, and all the others got caught and released. Once our two fish had got gutted and scaled, thankfully by Greyson, we returned to the cabin.  

To my further relief, I also got informed that he would not need to hunt for several days because his freezer was full of meat.

Because of all or travelling the previous day, Greyson decided we would take things easy and only go on a brief walk near his cabin. The walk was breathtaking, and he impressed me with his knowledge of the flora in the region.

Once we returned to his home, he announced that it was time to chill with a few beers. As we sat in the lounge in our shorts, after removing our sweaty t-shirts, Greyson and I were giving off a strong body hum. My mother had forewarned me not to pack any deodorant or cologne because of Greyson’s abhorrence to those city-slicker fixations.

“Hunters don’t smell lick sissies,” my mother assured me. She also mentioned that I should not expect to follow my usual hygiene regimen while visiting my uncle. “Just go with the flow, and if you pong a bit, there will be nobody to jeer at you,” Mum added in conclusion.

As we sat on the sofa sipping our beers, Greyson’s ripeness far exceeded mine. After two beers, however, I began to relax, and the heady smell became inconsequential. After my third beer, I began to find the aroma strangely arousing.

Greyson by now had also begun to thaw toward me more and more as he regaled me with childhood memories of him, my mother, their siblings, and cousins. He had a great sense of deprecating humour, which was charming. At one point, when I started laughing hysterically at one of his stories where he had seriously fucked up, in mock annoyance, he placed me in a clammy headlock and gave me a noogie. As I squirmed in his heavenly hum, I could not help noticing the bulge in his shorts. 

‘Jesus, he’s got a stiffy,’ I mused elatedly.

In one of those ‘what the fuck,’ moments, I let my hand rest on his crotch. It now felt like time had stopped, as he showed no resistance. My mind was racing at the implication of what was transpiring. As if in slow motion, when my head got released, I looked into his eyes.

“Oh, God… Forgive me,” Greyson uttered as my lips got propelled toward his mouth. When his hairy arms clamped onto me, he coerced me onto my back before his pungent body moved on top of me.

An age bliss followed as Greyson fervently kissed me as his hard crotch ground my genitals. When we finally took a rest, he said, “Well, it looks like I have now ticked all the boxes.”

As we both giggled, Greyson got up, and after lifting my body, transported me to the bedroom. After our shorts got removed, he pushed my legs apart and mounted my body.

I had never experienced real passion before, but what followed was the most gloriously passionate encounter of my life. Every aspect of a holistic sexual experience got practiced from sixty-nine to oral and anal penetration. The mind-blowing verbal stimulation of our session got further enhanced by Greyson’s ongoing physical domination. His sensual murmurs and horny dialogue almost drove me mad with lust, as well as his constant cocooning. Tightly wrapped in his furriness had turned me into a confirmed bear lover.     

After two hours later, as we lay side by side, Greyson then suggested moving through to the kitchen, to start prepping the evening meal. Greyson had decided to make an oven bake of sorts and once everything had been layered he placed it into the unlit oven to settle.

“Well get the dish going at seven and eat at eight,” he informed me.

Walking over to me after our dish got placed in the oven, Greyson now showed the final ace up his sleeve. If I had mistakenly thought that things would cool down, Greyson now commenced unleashing his extraordinary libido. My body got moved to and fro, and into every position imaginable, as he again hammered my arse and mouth frantically. I felt like a rag doll in the clutches of a demented little girl, as she asserted her domination over her new toy. I got tossed and turned as he controlled me while fulfilling his lustful machinations. Throughout, I whimpered in unison with his totalitarian vocalization. 

When the oven alarm went off, he temporarily let go of me, before returning to continue his onslaught, before we finally had dinner.

When we got to bed, he seemed as fresh a daisy, although he did not smell that way. I could not care less and by now had become an olfactory fiend as his ripe pong began driving me crazy.  

As I went into raptures about his stench, Greyson got a strange look on his face before announcing, “Well, then prove it!”

Before I could answer, I got aerially transported to his bathroom. Once we arrived, my face got wrapped in his armpit, encompassed by his heavenly tang.  Like a starving puppy on his mother’s teat, my tongue feverishly daubed his delicious manliness. Later, after a stereo of bliss having lapped on both his armpits, Greyson gripped hold of my head and intently stared into my eyes.

“Are you brave enough to take the next step?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” I answered, bravely unaware of where this would lead. By now, I was so excited that Greyson could have trussed me up like a pig and placed me on a spit roast. 

After instructing me to get into the tub, Greyson took hold of his dick and unleashed a deluge of piss onto me. My initial shock soon gave way to overwhelming lusty excitement. As I got swathed in piss, my mouth instinctively opened to a gurgling torrent of foaming urine. Much as I would have balked at this a day earlier, inexplicably, the golden nectar was exciting me beyond my belief.     

‘What the fuck is happening to me?’ I cogitated.

As his cock moved closer to my head, I began imbibing more and more of his piss. It was warm, foamy, and delicious, as it fizzed down my throat. As I attacked his dick, his hands cradled my head and compelled the ingestion of his heavenly sap. How I did not choke, I will never know, as my guts welcomed frothy nectar.

Once he had emptied his bladder, he commenced pumping my throat mercilessly. As his fat dick kneaded it way down my throat, I could not have cared less if I suffocated. The smells, strain, and supremacy of his actions rendered me useless to his machinations. In a melee of mucous, Greyson finally unloaded into my gurgling mouth.

In a salivating slimy slosh, my head capitulated as his crotch mashed all over my features triumphantly. It was fan fuckin’ tastic!

As I looked up at him, with my head having converted into a slime pit, Greyson said, “Now that you smell like a real man, I am going to enjoy fucking you.”  

Next, I got dragged off to the lounge and ravished for the rest of that night and for the remainder of my holiday.

I enjoyed my vacation more than I can explain, and after returning home, my mother was elated that I had connected with nature. Naturally, my father was very perplexed by my newfound ‘bucolic fascination.’

After that, however, I visited Greyson regularly, which I have continued to do until this day.