Big bear uncle farmer

This was my fourth week at the farm: the pale, skinny boy from the big city had been dropped by his bearish business man father, Joseph Corelli, one Sunday morning and was welcomed by his bearish farmer uncle, Edward Corelli.

My uncle was a PhD but had decided at 40 to drop a brilliant academic career and retire to the country, far away from the city smells, only to turn his farm into one of the most innovative and successful businesses in the region.

I hadn't seen uncle Ed during the past eight years, and when I saw him again I was pleasantly surprised and aroused as I had just found out that I was attracted to big, burly, mature men, no twinks like me, thank you very much (well, maybe with the exception of my new jack off buddy, Denny, but then again, I had just discovered masturbation and I had to take what was available).

Anyway, here was uncle Ed, much bigger than I remembered, balding, unshaven, with a beer gut stretching his white t-shirt and lots of new muscles on him; the one thing that hadn't changed was his killer smile, so different from dad's stern composure.

He had picked me up with his bulging hairy arms and thrown me in the air like he did when I was a little kid, and still had me giggling at him.

My dad laughed, a rare event, specially since mom had flown with that bastard, his former partner.

"Will you ever grow up, Ed", he said, shaking his head.

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The reluctant boy cowboy

I was outside the rooming house I had been living in for several months when I saw him.

I'd been out riding and trying to remember why it was I'd come out West to begin with. The gold. Oh, yes. Like everyone else, I had hitched my wagon to that foolish star. Made a stake, found my claim, and a year later armed only with a piece of exceptional good fortune panned just enough to buy a couple of acres of land in California's Pacific Northwest.

Why then was I still rooming at Mrs. Anderson's hotel? Because, you idiot, I screamed at myself, you won't budge into the yonder until you've found the one you expect to share it all with. And in six months' lodgings, I hadn't even come close. Oh, a stray heartthrob here and there, content enough to join me for one night on their initial foray into town after months of washing river-bed muck in beat-up pans up in the hills. I hadn't exactly been monkish, had I? But none of them not one was him. He with whom I'd saddle up and settle down. Since I couldn't think of a good enough reason to prolong the search, I'd made up my mind to move on the next day. Make a clean break. Begin again, elsewhere. I'd been in town too long, and my feet longed to tread green earth again. I had resolved to pack up my few belongings in preparation for the next morning's ride out.

But seeing the kid changed all that.

Back at the hotel, I was hitching up my horse with the firm resolve that tonight would mark my last full day in town when I first laid eyes on him. Even now I'm unsure of the reasons he fascinated me so. When he pulled up in front of the rooming house and leapt from the mount of his saddle, I had looked up out of curiosity and given him a cursory once-over. His face, tanned and pretty, had a boyish quality, and I suspected he was still in his teens, although his movements contained the exaggerated toughness of one who likes to give the impression of easy masculine authority. And like so many who parade their toughness like a badge, he merely succeeded in calling attention to his own youthfulness.

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Trip money

I had become a regular at the gym on Tuesday nights, and this 40-something businessman named Clint, who was also a regular on that night, and I had gotten to where we regularly spotted each other through our bar bell work. He was in great shape for his age, leaner than I was, but with well-defined, ropy muscles and chiseled square-cut features. I'd been trying to save the money for some time to get out to the beach for a couple of weeks to cruise chicks with my friends, but emergencies kept cropping up and I didn't seem to be able to set money aside. Finally, I had gotten down to a week before my friends were going, and I still didn't have any money for that trip. I must have been moping around about that during my Tuesday night workout, because Clint noticed that I was withdrawn.

"What's the matter, Ben?" he asked, as he was spotting me on the weights. "You don't seem yourself this evening."

"Naw, I'm okay," I answered. "I just have this problem where I'm supposed to go to the beach with my friends next week, and I don't have the money to go."

Later, as I was dressing after my shower, Clint sought me out and said he thought he knew how I could get the money I needed for the trip. He invited me to stop by his house after I was finished at the gym and we'd discuss how maybe we could help each other out on a little business proposition. I said, sure why not. He gave me his address, which was in a swanky part of town, and I followed his car back to his place.

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It happened one night

I had run the advertisement in the Tribune over the weekend and it read simply, 'Wanted roommate to share expenses of a large lakefront condo located at Lake of the Woods. Included is membership in the weight room, pool and spa. Contact Big Bear at 23-41109 after six o'clock in the evening." I had wanted to say male but the lady at the paper told me I couldn't specify white male because that was both sexist and racist and I could be sued. God I though the government is trying to tell me who I can live with as well as who I can sleep with. Now don't get me wrong, I have sucked enough black cocks in my time--no one would ever call me a racist, but well women that was another matter. My secretary had warned me that I was in for nothing but grief looking for a roommate.

When I got home after that advertisement ran, the answering machine was full and it was only five-thirty. As I began to monitor the messages, I was surprised at how many women had called and I was damn glad when I returned their call, most of them said they wanted a place with another woman. A few of them were outraged that I was a man--calling me a sexist pig. Then there were the fagots wanting to know and asking me what I looked like, and how much meat was I packing. Telling them I was studying to become a minister--that seemed to take care of them. Them some of them wanted to know how much the rent would cost, and when I told them they would just hang up.

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The uncle

"Clean your plate, Gil," Uncle Ned admonished his eighteen year old nephew, "we don"t want to waste food, there are starving children all over the world who would give anything for your left overs!" "Yes, Uncle," Gil dutifully replied, as he scooped up a last bite of mashed potatoes and gravy with a half a slice of rye bread. "That"s a good boy," he commented, as he cleared away the dinner dishes from the kitchen table, "wash or wipe he asked," while filling the sink with soapy dishwater!?!" "Uh, wipe," Gil replied, as he picked up the dish towel while waiting for the first clean dish to be placed in the drip rack. The two of them did the dishes in silence, until when they were about half way through, Uncle Ned nonchalantly mentioned, "I found your magazines when I dusted under your bed today, do you think that those are the type of magazines a boy of your age should be reading!?!" Gil turned a bright shade of red and fumbled to find the proper words to answer his uncle! A bemused smile crept across his face as he watched his nephew twist in the wind, and for the next several minutes he let him stew in his embarrassment until he continued on, "Well, I guess a boy your age would just naturally show an interest in sex, but I"m not to sure that those skin magazines are the best way to go about it!!!" "Have you ever seen a boy"s erection before," he asked in all seriousness!?! "No," he whispered, "I haven"t!" "All done," he intoned, "as he handed the last glass to Gil for drying, "let"s go into the living room and talk about this a little further!"

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The farm

When I turned eighteen I had to take over the farm. My dad went to work on a constrution job. So that left my mother and two brothers and two sisters to take care of the farm.

My older brother had to get married when he was still in high school. And he had to work out to support his new family.

So that left just my mother and younger brother and two sisters to take care of the farm.

I won't let my younger brother stay home to help me out on the farm and my older sister, she didn't like the farm anyhow. So she wasn't going to help out.

My younger sister she was just two. So that left her out.

One morning I was talking to Mom about getting a hired man to help me out.

"I am going to town to pick up some stuff at the feed mill this morning and I will ask around about getting some one. If they don't know of any one I will place a add in the paper."

"Let's hope you will find some one to help you. You can't keep this up only getting a couple of hours of sleep a night."

"I know, Mom. I am realy tired but I have to keep going if I am going to get the crops in and all."

"Well, good luck."

At the mill. I was asking if anyone knew of any one that needed a job.

Bill said, "Sure, I do. My son is looking for a job on a farm as he hates the factory work."

"Have him come out to see me then, as I needed to hire some one like two days ago."

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Small town boy

I grew up in a very small town, my best friend and I had messed around many times. I knew I was gay but I think Chris was still trying to get past being gay. You see Chris's dad was the chief of police.

Chris and I had just turned 16 and that summer we had gotten our driver licenses. My dad had given me his old work car and we decided to go to a barn party. Nothing much got past the chief, he gave us the lecture about drinking and driving and doing drugs everytime he saw us. The party was great, we drank a couple of beers but Chris got sick and went home with a friend who didn't like the party.

Around 11:00 I decided I should be heading home to. To get anywhere in our town you have to go down main street, that was when the chief saw my car go by. I had not seen him sitting off the side street.

About a mile from my house I see his flashing light coming up behind me. My heart is racing and I knew that it was the chief, I pulled over in the parking lot of a closed up gas station and he pulled up beside me and told me to drive around back. "You don't want your dad to know I pulled you over do you?" I drove around back and stop, turned off my lights and saw the chef right behind me. He killed the lights and started to get out of his car. As he walked up to me I could see him in the drivers side mirror. Chief, as we always called him was a very handsome man. He stood 6'1" and had the same build he had when he was in the army, just a little more of him, but rock solid. He had dark brown hair and a very thick mustache which dovered the softest lips I had ever seen. His eyes were dark green and he always looked like he was ready to kick ass. His chest was covered in thick brown/black hair and he always wore his uniform shirt opened at the top to show it off. I jumped out of the car and said, "Hey chief what's up?" He looked really pissed and I guessed he knew that Chris and I had been drinking. Chris tells his Mom everything. I looked down at my feet and hoped he would be cool about this. We had only had two beers and that was like two hours before I left the party.

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Professor Reiswig

I just did not know where to stand anymore. It seemed to me that whatever option I would choose, I would not be able to get rid off that bloody German class. Why on Earth does it have to be that way? I am studying linguistics, and English for foreigners so, why did they put German as a compulsory subject in my finals this yearbecause I have studied it for the last 3 years???

"That's fucking rubbish," I said out loud.

My friend John was walking just behind me in the corridor, and patted my shoulder "Hey, Michael, matey; no need to curse like this, whatever does make you mad. You all right mate?"

"All right? Gosh. I could kill someone today, I just got my curses list for next year, and they have stopped the Swedish class I wanted to attend... not available for us anymore and now, instead, I shall have, listen that and don t laugh okay,; Advanced English Grammar and German. My luck--just what I always wanted. Now, YOU don't tell me I'm under a spell of bad luck or what?

John frowned and let a loud, "Yuk"

"That's Awful. I know the English Grammar Teacher, Mrs. Jones. She is a fucking nasty cow, mate. She is that bloody Welsh fat sod; the one with a wig. Serious! She's the one that gave Timothy Carrington a hard time last yearand made him flunk his finals big time. Now. Got the picture? All I can say isgood luck with her. I'm the lucky one here my cursus remains unchanged. Still, biochemistry, organic chemistry, biology, botanic pathology and pharmacology...with the same teachers; they're cool.

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Dear teacher

I am one of students and I am gay. I think you are the sexiest teacher I've ever seen. I'd like to be yours to fuck. Your muscular body makes my cock hard. And your face is so handsome. During class, I often fantasize seeing you naked. I wish to suck your nipples, making your nipples pointy and hard. I also want to suck your cock till you cum in mouth. I have a very tight asshole, you'll love it. When you slide your cock up to my ass, I will squeeze your cock head with my ass lips. You'll cum in buckets. I'd be very happy if one day we could have sex together.

Sucking your cock, Your sex-crazed gay student

Satisfied with the letter I just wrote, I folded it nicely. But as I was going to envelope it, an idea shot across my raunchy brain. Unfolding the letter, I held the paper in my left hand and then placed it on the table. The other hand was undoing my pants. With one yank, my pants dropped to the floor, revealing my hard 18-year-old cock. Next, I was deep in my masturbation. "...hhhooohh... aaahhh.... oooohhh...." Previously, my cock had been oozing precum profusely. As I squeezed the head, more precum liquid flowed out. Retracting the foreskin down, I exposed the reddish mushroom-shaped cock head. It was gleaming under my bedroom light, throbbing. "...hhhhoohh.. aaahhhh..." I moaned again. A dirty fantasy about my naked teacher fleeted across my mind. "...hhhhooohhh..."

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Furnace repair for free

I had just received the call to go to a nearby house. It seems that the lady of the house was having problems with her heater and I needed to make some repairs. Of course it was always to get a call from a woman who was not likely to understand the first thing about her unit. I could almost always expect to make a killing.

I pulled up the house and knocked on the door. A pleasant looking older woman in her late 60's answered. She seemed real happy to greet me and relieved that someone would finally be able to help her. She showed me right to the basement, commenting on how big a man I am. At 6'3 and 250 pounds it was not uncommon for people to make comments about that. It came in real handy with men too. They tend to not question me about the work I do. I guess they fear angering me. Or maybe my size gives them extra confidence in my abilities. I can't say that makes any sense, but it seems some people think that way.

I got to the unit and realized quickly that it just needed some minor maintenance. Of course I explained that several parts would have to be replaced. I just happened to have them in my truck. In truth the job should have cost about $50.00. But replacing those parts would run it to $250.00. Not a bad couple hours work. She gave me the OK and I started the job.

After about 15 minutes I heard someone enter the home. There was some muffled conversation and then the cellar door opened. A man entered and came over to me. I didn't look at him at first, as I was in the middle of the job. When I did look, I saw a massively built older man. From his white hair, I'd guess his age somewhere in the late 60's. He was wearing a flannel shirt and impressively filled it out. I stood to greet him and realized that he stood a couple of inches taller than my 6'3". He extended a hand to shake, that looked to be the size of a catcher's mitt. It swallowed mine. He gave me a firm shake that told me I was in the presence of a powerful man. The shirt was long sleeved but it couldn't hide the thick fur swarming over his wrist and up the back of that hand.

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The seduction

Simon watched as the young man entered text into his Blackberry. It was a frequent occurrence, and curiosity had gotten the better of Simon. He wanted to know what was so important to Connor that he typed a few times a day. Simon knew it wasn't just text messaging. There were no stops and starts. Connor typed straight through until he finished.

It would only be a matter of time before the young man would leave his phone unattended. Connor was a bit forgetful and had left his phone on his desk numerous times before. Simon figured he was using the memo function of the phone as a persona diary and wondered what he would find once he finally got hold of it. He doubted it would be a detailed account of Connor's dalliances. The boy just wasn't the type.

Lean and effeminate, the young man kept to himself around the office. Simon hadn't ever seen him flirt with any of the beautiful and curvaceous ladies who worked with them. This, among other things, led Simon to suspicions about Connor's sexuality. A couple of times, he'd caught Simon's eyes lingering on a male co-worker. At first, he thought nothing of it, but after seeing it happen more than once, he started to wonder.

Oh, the fun he could have if the young man was really gay. Simon suspected if it was true, that he'd not had any actual experience. He could take care of that. He would love to. As far as Simon was aware, not one person in the office knew of his proclivities. He liked women just fine, and everyone knew it. What they didn't know was that he liked men just fine too.

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