The Hunting Lodge

The sun beats down heavily upon my bent back as I bow down, swallowing the pastor's stiff hard cock. The salty protein seeps down my throat as I take in his prominent male muscle. I taste and smell the scent of a recently fucked pussy, too, in his bushy pubes, the whiff of a muffed-vagina, it catches me by surprise, that horrid smell, which I have avoided, at all cost, my entire adult life, as that region of a woman, I have no desire to penetrate with either tongue or cock.

As I smell 'her', I gag by reflex, my head jars back as I slide across his hardened shaft reeking of unwanted muff, into my mouth.

"You alright, Travis," Poulan asks me, as he applies pressure to the back of my head with his right hand, forcing my head further down, upon his engorged swelled penis.

"Uh, huh," I mumble under my breath, as I am filled wholly with his hefty equipment, orally.

Poulan, that is what we call, Rick, he is the only one in our group whom we identify by his surname, he is also a preacher, pastor, reverend, a man of the cloth, well, I think, you get the picture, a man of God.

As I pump his member, I feel my own cock, harden between my spread wide, my upside down 'V'-ed legs as I feel a gust of wind, tickle the hairs upon my body, while I stand at the back of the truck.

The heat on my back, the blowjob I am performing on Poulan excites me.

I feel the sweat build up on me as I exert myself onto Poulan's cock.

I reach down with my left hand and stroke myself, as my right hand is firmly wrapped around his cock, stroking it, as I slide along its full extended length, drawing more blood into it, increasing its length and thickness.

Sweat runs down my back, like tiny creeks among the lightly dense forest of my back hair into the valley that is my ass and further down my muscled mountain-like legs. The more I exert myself, the sweatier I become.

Poulan spreads his legs, leaning back, propped up in a makeshift 'V' on the bending of his arms. The sweat is doing the same across his furry body too. He raises his hips, pushing his shaft, more and more into my mouth, forcing me to swallow him, deeper.

"Swallow it, Travis," he says, "Swallow that hard cock."

Poulan's cock is stuffed down my throat, I can only mumble, as speech is impossible with his organ, buried deep in my gullet.

The salty protein explodes in my throat as Poulan unloads his white-batter from his cock into me. I take most of it, down my esophagus, some spills out from the corner eaves of my mouth, painting my lips, white, with his man-juice.

Poulan rocks on his bare butt on the tailgate as his spent load fills my mouth.

I am hard but I will reserve mine until later, I am expecting company.

As he comes off his ecstasy-filled high, he sees that I am hard.

"You need help with that, buddy?"

"No, I am good," I say.

"You sure?" he says, "I would love to have that sweet juice in my hole."

"I like to be fucked," I answer him.

"You don't fuck?" he asks me.

"Sometimes," I say," but I prefer to be filled by a man."

"Maybe I can fuck you, some time," Poulan says to me, as he looks me up and down, sizing me up.

"You don't look like a bottom to me," he says.

"...and what does a bottom look like?" I retort, tersely.

"Not you, for sure," he says.

"Well, then you would be wrong," I say, "I like to be fucked."

"You don't exactly look like a card-carrying gay man either," I say, "considering you stand behind a pulpit on Sunday and Wednesday and preach against those of us who are H-O-M-O-S-E-X-U-A-L, you know, fags...queer...gay. Judge, people for it, while you let men, like me, suck your cocks and who the fuck, knows what else."

"Don't judge me," Poulan says, "don't you think its juvenile to spell it out, c'mon, man, grow up."

"Don't judge others, then," I say.

"What the fuck is your problem, man?" he says to me.

"Your hypocrisy," I say, "that is what my fucking problem is, Poulan."

Poulan jumps off from his seated place on the tailgate, his cock flaps against his bared-ass body. Streams of cum shoot from his already spent cock but he is far from empty, his balls hold more of his valued essence.

He bolts to the river, diving-in from the place designated for it by the many that swim here.

I walk to the bluff, the small bank, located near him, as he swims in the current of the mighty river.

"Hey, Poulan," I say.

"Yeah, Travis, what is it, you gonna give me another fucking lecture?" Poulan shouts to me as I stand on the banks of this mighty river.

"Hey, man, sorry 'bout that," I say, "I am frustrated that's all, not your fault. I just am angered by the hate from those, who call themselves, Christians, which I get, even from my own family. In regards to what one part of me, makes me, who I am, that they insist, is my chosen 'lifestyle,' while not seeing how asinine their comments are, considering 'they' did not choose to be heterosexual, either, they just are."

"I understand," he says, "why'd you think, I operate in private."

"I am gay," I say, "it is not a 'lifestyle' I was born this way, despite how much is said, I did not make the decision to be gay."

I dive in the water, too, and swim up to him.

"With a piece like this," he says, as he grabs my tool under the rushing currents of the Apalachicola, catching me by surprise at his tightly gripped clutches, forcefully, "I don't care what makes you gay, you are one damn fine looking piece of man."

I am hard even in the swift cool waters of the river.

They say I am a real man if there were any such thing, to maintain a rod of this magnitude under these harsh of conditions of a watery confinement.

"You are a real man, Travis," Poulan says.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," I say, "I guess I am blessed. I am nothing special though, just a regular guy with a penis between my legs like a million other men in the world."

We swim about in the river, washing the cum and sweat off our bodies, letting it cleanse us as we are baptized beneath this river.

I emerge from the water, feeling the cleansing liquid rinse away the supposed 'sin' I am guilty of, as is he.

If being what you are, naturally is a 'sin' then so be it, denying is the real 'sin,' trying to be something that is not you for the sake of another's 'moral superiority' and 'self-righteousness'm that is the true 'sin' to me. Lying to one's self, that is 'sin.'

"You have one powerful and strong ass, Travis." Poulan says as my backside is in full view for him to see in the river as I emerge from it on the riverbank.

I turn at his compliment about my ass, it strikes me, differently, I am sure, from what he intended.

"Why do you do it?" I ask.

"Why do I do what?" he asks.

"Stand behind the pulpit, preach your hate, then glare at me, lustfully, want to suck my cock, and swallow my cum?" I ask, angrily, "Why?"

Poulan does not answer me.

I think I have angered him.

I know I am.

Angry.

He is part of the problem across the South.

He is the hypocrite, the damned hypocrite.

He preaches against homosexuality while engaging in the same 'abominable' acts here at the lodge and I suspect at other places too. I am guessing, of course, but I feel as though I am right.

Why would he only confine his 'dirty' deeds to only here?

"I want to fuck you, Travis?" Poulen says to me.

"You want to fuck me?"

"Yes," he says.

"Why should I?"

"Because you want to say, Reverend Poulan fucked your sweet little ass, Travis," he says, "he takes cock up the ass, he's had mine."

I ponder for a moment, bringing my fingers to my face, in intense mocking fashion.

"Yeah, you're right," I say, "I want you to pound me with your 'word', your 'sword of the word'."

"Another Biblical reference, uhh, Travis," Poulan says.

"Drive that 'word' into me, Preacher," I say, "save my ass from 'sin, Preacher Man."

"Shut the fuck up and lay down on my tailgate," Poulan demands.

I lay on my back, off the tailgate of my red Chevrolet truck, presenting my wet river-soaked ass to his waiting cock.

"Mmm, what a fine ass," Poulan says, "I can't wait till my cock slides into that sweet delicious hole."

As he finishes surveying my hole, he plops his moistened finger into it, loosening it up for his dipstick.

"Ahh," I squeal as his finger works his magic in my hole," uhmmm, damn, put that cock in me and quit playing with me."

I can feel Poulan's stiff wang as it rests again the rosebud of my puckered lips. He rubs his prick against the entranceway; I feel his protein as he wipes the juice against my butt-'lips.' I pucker my ass, working those 'lips' against the force of his swelled cock-head. He eases the crown, slowly, into my ass, stopping once his cockhead is hidden in my ass, ever so slowly, as his mushroom-shaped cockhead, slides in.

He stops.

Easing, his cockhead, in and out, just the top of his crowned member, only, he enters and exits, sopping up my juices, just from my haired hole.

"Quit teasing, me," I say, as he plays with me, toys with only a small fraction of his tool.

"You don't like what I am doing, Travis?" Poulan says.

"Damn it, it feels good, as you tempt me, with your trouser-serpent, teasing me," I say, "but I want all of it."

He pokes his cock, once more into my hole, then leans down, rising up on the toes of his feet to kiss me.

As he does this, he slides his cock, forcefully, deeper, into my hole.

"Uhh," I moan as I swallow his cock, up to his root of his cock, in my ass.

"That feel good, Travis?" Poulan says.

"Uh, huh," I say, "fuck me, pound my ass."

The sun, shines bright in my face, as I rest back on the rough metal of the truck, the ridges of metal, poke me in my back.

I open my ass, more, Poulan slides deeper into me.

I feel the hairiness of his thick pubes, as they brush against me with each thrust of his male-nificence organ.

The magnificence of his skill works me into a lather as he drills me, forcefully, which each riveting thrust of his powerful rod.

The birds sing in the trees as he bangs my ass with his pleasure tool.

I am distracted, though, as I think of my beloved, Sean.

I want him, need him.

I do not just want a fuck, for fuck-sake, I want more.

"Stop, stop!" I yell out, "Pull your cock out of me."

"What?" Poulan says, "What the fuck?"

As he yanks his steel-hard cock out of my hole, clear ropes of pre-cum link his cock to my hole by a string of magical male protein.

"What the fuck?" Poulan says, "I am about to shoot my load."

"Not in my ass, you aren't," I say, "that is saved for someone special and that ain't you."

"Fuck!" Poulan yells out, "Shit, I've got to cum."

"Well, spill your seed on the ground," I say, "...or is that a 'sin' too?"

"As a matter of fact," Poulan says, "It is."

"Well, then you have another one to add to your growing list," I mockingly say, "My ass is reserved for one man only."

"Sean?"

I look at him, he knows.

"Yes, Sean," I say, "the same one. Who's wedding, you conducted."

"The kid has a nice cock from what I've heard," he says.

"He does, he is a twenty-something, so he is always ready to go," I say.

"I am forty-something and so am I," he says.

"Well, go fuck one of your mindless deacons," I say, "They are dicks anyway."

"Yes, they are," he says, "yes, they are."

Poulan has a raging hard-on as he stands arguing with me because I unexpectedly told him to pull out.

"Don't you have a wife, you can fuck?" I fire back.

"Yeah, I do," he says, "but I prefer a man's tight ass, any day. I prefer to be fucked too but you wouldn't do it."

"Just leave, motherfucker, leave," I say, "I have grown really tired of your shit, bored, actually."

"You leave, you fuck," he says," I don't want to."

I see the anger mount on Poulan's face, he grows darker, his face going from a light shade of pink to a bright pulsing red.

`"Damn, you," Poulan says.

Poulan lunges at me, grabbing my waist and throwing me, forcefully, to the ground. We roll around in the dirt, the sand sticking to the moist-soaked parts of our bodies. Arms and fist are flailing about, not making contact with either one of our faces.

"Get the hell off me, you, motherfucker, "I say, "I am not going to fight your sorry ass."

We roll about on the sandy road that circle around the lodge, coating us in the white sandy soil of the Florida earth.

"Damn it, Poulan, "I yell, "Get the fuck off me."

The more we tussle about the harder, I am getting.

The sweat of our bodies, it is attracting the dark earth under the loamy sandy soil on the surface. We are being coated generally with the grass, sand and weeds that are crossing our path as we steamroll violently on the ground in our fight. A fight I am passively avoiding that Poulan tried so valiantly, wanting me to engage.

"Fight back, damn it," Poulan shouts, angrily," fight me, you self-righteous ass."

The madder he gets, the harder his cock becomes, pointing out through his dirty pubes.

Poulan rolls me over on my stomach, my cock, shoved into the soft grassy ground of the mound that divides the 2-path road in half.

I feel the hardened cock of Poulan as he shoves his member deep into the abyss of my ass.

"Huh," I moan out as Poulan pokes his cock into my ass.

"Yeah, I knew you wanted it," he cries out as he pounds his cock into my tight ass.

"Quit talking and fuck me," I yell out, "fuck me with that Preacher-Cock."

I feel him as he slides deeper and deeper into me.

I am being rubbed raw as he slides me, sandpaper-like, across the damp soil, pushing the gritty grains of the sandy soil, into my ass, with each angered thrust.

"Fuck me, fuck me!" I scream out, as I am being ground to pulp by his steely-hard cock.

I feel him as he enters and exits my tight hole. I squeeze my interior caverns, as his plunges grow deeper into me.

The veins of his male-member ease his tool into me, as I can feel them, as he rocks his hips and bucks me, like a tamed bull.

"When I want something, I get it, motherfucker," Poulan shouts out as he forcefully pounds my hole as we squirm about on the ground, grinding me more into the dirt.

"Oh, fuck, pound my hole, Preacher Man," I yell out as a flock of birds flutter from the woods spooked by our yells and screams from our loud 'lovemaking.'

Poulan raises himself up on his knees on the ground and continues to ram me with all his might.

I feel the juice leaking into my hole from Poulan's fully engulfed prick in my ass.

"Give me that load, Preacher Man," I yell out, "Anoint my insides with your seed, Preacher."

I feel his cock swell up in my ass as Poulan nears his biblical climax.

With the force he is fucking me, I feel as though he is raping my hole with his cock. All his frustrations, anger and built-up desires are being assaulted on my aching hole.

I feel his cock, swell, his cockhead, magnify, as he nears his climax.

"Oh shit, oh shit," he screams as he creams my hole.

I grip his cock with my fleshy walls, gripping him tightly, milking his tool of his pent-up juices.

"Oh, yeah," I sigh as I am filled by Preacher seed.

Poulan stays in me, as his cock goes flaccid in my hole.

As he pulls out, the cum, has become clear and seeps down from the crack of my ass and onto the ground, seeding it, like Jesse's did earlier today.

As easy as he angered from baiting, he once again, calms, as his seed is spent in my hole.

"I am going to take a dip, Travis," Poulan says, "you gonna join me?"

"Yeah, I am," I say.

"You gonna cum?" he asks.

"No," I say.

BOOM

BOOM

BOOM

"What was that?" I say, surprised at the distant noise.

"I think that we are going to get some rain."

BOOM

BOOM

BOOM

"We best get ourselves cleaned off before the bottom falls out," Poulan says as he runs and dives into the Apalachicola.

His ass looks good, as he runs, but it always has, ever since high school.