A High Country Tale Ch. 03: Of Odin and Ovid

Of Odin and Ovid

The low moan escaped my lips before I could stifle it. As I lay cuddled up into Cal's armpit, relishing his scent, my fetal position and the exposure of my naked ass allowed for an intrepid gatecrasher's invasive access into what had been vacated only a scant hour before. Following Cal's copious eruption.

This wee hour of our first February night in Telluride found us snugly holed up in the rustic log home of Jeremy and Luke. The Kell-Cevennes branch of our family. More specifically, in a shared and coveted spot amidst our closest friends: their king-sized cypress-hewn bed. Nestled between my husband and our friends' semi-permanent guest and new acquaintance, the dreadlocked Jamaican. He had been introduced to us as one Ambergai Gee of reggae music renown earlier in the evening.

The unfamiliar intimate had been quite comfortable in his nudity around the fireplace-warmed home for the entire evening of our arrival. While forewarned, we hadn't been too well fore-armed for the actuality of the package the man carried around. The eleven-inch plus piece had both startled and enthralled we two newly-landed houseguests.

Luke had described the behemoth more than once, but like Helen of Troy's historic beauty, this man's beast was only fully appreciated upon the picture supplanting words. The mind's eye picture now provoked a certain wariness as the thing enquiringly prodded my rounded buttglobes, protruding beyond Cal's protective cover. Cal's continued even breaths confirmed his slumberous state. The giant dick was unfurling gradually upward and inward, determined to know my insides in addition to my external self.

While I very much desired the dick to get it, the increasingly firm girth presented formidable challenge to plugging in. Discreet elbow grease application helped: where the man got it was a puzzle. He must have been a reggae boy scout, I surmised. The involuntary moan as the huge head squeezed through my sphincter was only rudimentarily acknowledged amongst our other bedmates, none of whom awakened to it. Only reflexive rearrangement of the other three bodies registered the discrete shift in the status quo.

Ambergai Gee pushed the big thing forward in its quest, having visually and audibly indicated intent prior to this night foray. My untested white booty had been sized-up on several occasions over the previous hours. Once, even testing the cakes by the old finger-squeeze-and-thump method. The action had brought me up short, halting midstride as the older man's long fingers wrapped around my husband's main-squeeze butt--- mine, that is--- in inquisitive delving. No one else had been within sight upon descending the staircase from unpacking suitcases. I looked over my shoulder at the touch, not needing to gaze too far downward to view the humongous dick that was, by extension, thumping the 'fruit'.

Apparently, mine proved ripe enough, for he had then commented, "Mi a'gonna be a-getting' a bit o'dat booty, now, ma'new friend Dr. Jake-mon, an' in only a li'l while, so don' be a-keepin' 'dis here Mon a'waitin overlong for de' taste-testin', a'ight boi?" The implication was not subtle, I had inferred.

We had arrived at the house only an hour before that squeezing, being introduced simultaneously to Ambergai Gee and the adorable other half of the handsome Adolpho, whom Cal and I had been knowing for a year or more during previous visits. The 'straight' young sommelier. His new lover, a blond ski bum named Bryce Canyon, had surprised us. We had accepted and presumed Adopho's straight-world predilection because of the Italian boy's own insistence. Until Luke had told us of the news downland in Rome, Georgia... hmmm. Welcome to our world... and family.

Having just departed the lowland environs of the Broadhearst brotherhood, I was well prepared for the blitzkrieg technique commonly employed by men-of-color when they choose to take their pleasures. Both Luke and I reveled in the proximity of desirous men and their proclivities at common junctures, yet the materialization of this homunculus was not something for which I could ever have been quite prepared.

At least an additional one-plus inches longer and 'girthier' than my own ten-inch Calumet, the beast now entering my asshole defied credence. I had thought that the size of this dick existed only in fantasies dreamt up by fiction writers. But here it was. Back-door knocking. Yes, strictly speaking, I had been forewarned. But, I was adding another meaning to the concept of fore-armed, what with the arm-sized cock now familiarizing itself with my colon. Like other residents of this house had already been. First hand.

So, I just inhaled my man's muskiness from the inside of his deep pit and luxuriated, between winces, as I was stretched wider than I had been. Oh, wait, with the exception of Mr. Jumbo. At the Atlanta pleasure house to where Cal had escorted me months before. That one rivaled this. I stood corrected.

Musk aroma filled in for poppers nicely as the menacing anaconda slid slippery up into my warm chute. After a seeming eternity and two miles of depth perception, I felt the hot sizzle of the tall man's ballsack against my perineum. Older men had such patience.

Sighing in both relief and ecstasy, the exaggerated breath finally roused my unsuspecting husband. He sleepily extended his rangy arm down my back in an arc that reached my ravaged hole. At the recognizance of an enormous presence where his own cock had just recently spent itself, Cal awakened more so, fingering the connection. My man loved that particular action, commonly doing it when he and I joined together. He prized the fingering feel of dick-in-ass. The streaming three-dimensionality of it turned him hugely on.

My hand reached down to his fast-arising tens, certain what I would find. Tumescence along with the soft, seductive whisper into my ear augmented already enormous delight, "Ooooh, my baby mandingo-pleasin' boi. You been getting' plugged like you know I like feelin', right here inside of my daddy-shield, haven't you, now? How's that big dick fillin' your sweet pussy, J-Man...you likin' that thing I've been watching you drool at all this evenin'? The big'un ain't been real shy, boi." I turned my head up to stare into his searching bedroom eyes, transferring my enjoyment through to him by locking on them.

His lips found mine as we tongued in unison. The being pushing the still-swelling elevens behind me noticed. "Dese two lover-men jus' joinin' dis home bein' right up de' alley along wi' de rest o'us, now. We all glad t'welcome ya' both, men. Mi been tol' ya' matchin' up ta de rest a'our ways, so all's a'gonna go vera nice, now, I am a'tellin'," the Jamaican dialected us up a notch in eroticism through that accent.

Cal's tongue went into higher gear during the sensuous talk and his fingers wrapped around the piece taking what he had just been stuffing. I got the best of it all but nobody felt slighted. I slowly stroked my man's uncut dick the way it liked. Matching the rhythm Ambergai Gee set showed us three that we would mesh well in the coming times together. The man's animalism scorched us.

Luke and Jeremy lay entwined in subliminal concupiscence, casually caressing Cal on the other side away from we threes' conjoinment. While not apparently conscious of the ardor unfolding so close by, the communality of their bodies against Cal's gave connection to us all even without their active involvement. We knew each other that well, having shared beds many times over years... shared lives for even longer.

Ambergai had pinpointed our connection with Luke and Jeremy in his intuitive manner, continuing to steadily stroke my ass, "Mi be a'knowin' now tha' ma boi-pussies over a'next to you's new mens gonna be a'likin' da facts o'de matters, mi just be a'sayin'." And with the saying, the giant dreadlocked elder man erupted voluminously, flooding a baby-rich load all inside his newly staked claim.

Though he instinctively knew of the preclusion from dominating Cal's ass in the way he did other inhabitants of the high mountain lodge, by using my ass, Gai extended his dominion over the younger generation. Cal got it, endorsing the act without a single misgiving, deriving pleasure instead. He respected elders like no other man I had ever known. The willing precept of this giving-over did not diminish anything he and I had, it only expanded the field. The family grew, then and there.

The high country home absorbed the fact in tacit acceptance as Cal climaxed, tongue-locked as he was with me. Feeling the link between us and the elder musician, my own peak reached massive, fulfilling release. Welcome us, again, to Mountain Village.

"Boy, I slept like a baby, guys," Luke was refreshed the first morning of Telluride Gay Ski Week. "It is so good to have you two back." It had been since the boys' marriage last July that Cal and Jake had stayed with them and the new situation was starkly different. Ambergai Gee was out before dawn doing nobody-knew-what, per the man's wont. The Island man was a profound presence in the mountaintop home. Bryce and Adolpho came bursting from their bedroom off the great room at just that moment, pummeling each other in the heedless carousing of twenty-somethings. Uninhibitedly toweled and wet-haired from a post-coital shower, the two infused the house with youthful enthusiasm. Yes, the circumstances were accented by changes.

Coffees were prepped for each and the five sat around the long marble island in the kitchen discussing the upcoming frivolity which marked this week's annual festival. Already, the village below and Telluride overhill were filling with a plethora of eccentric personalities coming for the fun and great skiing. Over four feet of powder and packed powder presently covered almost the whole 2000 acres of ski terrain. Fully 80% of trails now open and all lifts running full bent. Bookings for the week were overflowing and ski lift passes were in extreme demand.

The group watched as early prep teams groomed the higher trails down below the house, the upper ski lifts reaching to within a hundred yards of the Kell-Cevennes' property lines. The pond was thickly frozen for their own private skating pleasure when anybody was ready. Resident elk were bedded down away to the far rock overhang where Luke had replenished their warm hay cushion two days before, so all knew the bear population was safely asleep for the winter. The elk were always good bellwethers and bear-alert guardians. With their gathering where they were, the boys could bet on good new powderfall within the next two days. The weather forecasters were all in for a long snowy, El Nino-induced winter. With the coming ski festival, spirits were high.

Jeremy came blustering in from jetting up and stoking the heaters for the cedar hot tub, an amenity everyone adored for outdoor enjoyment through the winter season. This was Bryce and Adolpho's, as well as Gai's, inaugural winter season in the log home and their anticipation was torqued with the added family. Over five feet of hard dickmeat graced the log home now and the tub would be fully filled by seven soakers. Lucky they all liked each other... The bundled black man stamped feet and disrobed in the adjacent mud room, appearing in a few moments, winter spandex body suit the sole remaining body cover besides thick, wicking socks. His sexy array of hunk-factor was almost impossible to hide, now proving no exception.

"It should be 104 F within the hour, and jets are on standby mode whenever anyone wants it. What's for breakfast, my cookin' wench?" He grinned at Luke, figuring the jibe would provoke a response. Everybody knew that Jeremy was the chef of the household. A withering smile greeted him as Luke gestured at the full breakfast underway on the counters and cooktop. The bacon aroma pretty much rendered the sarcasm moot and Cal swatted Jeremy in his passing.

"JK, don't be insulting the sous chef. This be a class establishment, and we will just have to bend your ass over my knee for a full spankin' if you don't quit, homes." Everyone feasted on that hypothetical. "So... did you sleep as sound as your 'slept-like-a-baby' man, too?" Cal was fishing.

"Well, duh, yeah, dude," Jeremy sniggered, "at least until I got my booty call at dawn. The standing order. Did you by chance miss it--- ya'll were kinda sacked out when we 'got up'." He smirked, fishing as well, "Late night?" He had actually awakened to the cum-rumbles in the dark hour, sensing his best friends' demonstrative eruptions. With his free hand grazing Cal's butt, he had hardened in vicarious enjoyment but remained stock still due to his husband's continued deep sleep through the whole thing, not wanting to disturb him. He liked watching Luke dream. The morning 'booty call' inside Luke had satisfied a belated rejoinder to the wee-hour hot action so silently perceived. He hoped he had returned the relayed third-party favor.

Jake picked up on the allusion but was curious, "Was the Jamaica-Mon there at dawn when you woke up? He was with us one minute and the next thing we knew, he was gone." The newcomers had experienced what Jeremy and Luke had noticed for months. The man was a wraith. The two wondered at the disappearing act following on the heels of the hot session shared with the older gent. Informed that it was pretty common, the couple was pacified.

Bryce came and sat next to Jake at the barstool beside him, interested in the presence of yet another white boy doctor and the one of whom he had been hearing so much. Luke was so effusive in praise of his bff, Bryce figured the handsome curly-haired man couldn't be all that. The two bent together like old buds, comparing and contrasting notes. Bryce couldn't even fathom Cal's five brothers and their clone-like qualities. As much as the boy loved the mountain, the lowland population and in particular that of Rome, Georgia, sounded pretty damned inviting. Jake equated some stories that failed to dispel the fantasy. All the while, the blonde's eyes kept creeping over toward the tall stud known as Jake's husband.

The hot breakfast hour was filled with more acquainting, catching up on each other's past month and discussing the festival unfolding down from their home. The appearance of screaming gay men and drag queens cavorting over the trails this February week had been enlivening the mountainside for several years, to date. From the boys' high vantage point, the view promised to be exceptional. Only Jeremy and Luke had first-hand familiarity with the perspective.

After cleaning up the kitchen, everyone regrouped. Adolpho announced he needed to spend at least the morning hours in the bodega, bookwork calling the young man's attention away from the gaiety. He knew that in light of the coming week's wine consumption his triple-stock inventory maneuver in the previous months should provide a monetary bonanza with which to start off the year...something he planned to ensure. The books wouldn't wait what with the orders pouring in from hotels, restaurants and bars in the community. Luke loved the young man's work ethic, his own mindset similar. Not many twenty-somethings would stick to the set plan as the huge party overtook the village and township. Besides, he thought, doing the work now would pay off later in the week when the Italian boy could sit back and watch the profits roll in.

Bryce aimed to shadow his soulmate and upon making it known, Adolpho shot him down almost immediately. "Baby, I would do nothing but fuck you all day long if you came along...no, you gotta be in your element now. Go play with the mountain boys out on your ski slopes. I'll catch up to you. Besides, who's gonna be watching all these horndogs out in public? We know they are like to all be in trouble before the first day is out. I saw Luke takin' inventory on the magic drawer yesterday so you just know what's about to happen. Go play, boi." And with that, he kissed him, clutched the succulent buns, slipped out the front door and disappeared downhill.

The young Italiano wasn't far from wrong, as it turned out. Luke and Jake were conspiring in the bedroom by the magic drawer after a shower with their men, giggling over the different modes of 'high-mindedness' available for the extravaganza on snow. Not surprisingly, the green-cross inventories in the township were dwindling. Shortages were being discussed already. It was said there were emergency runs into Denver happening for re-stocking purposes. Everyone always underestimated gay men and in particular, drag queens' partying penchants. The collective exemplary work ethic was balanced by an equally hard-partying reputation.

The variety normally so widely-ranging on the apothecary shelves in Tride town had the entrepreneurial class concerned for the medical mj patients, finding their managers had held precious little back for filling prescriptions. Jeremy chuckled that the elderly neighbor nonagenarian 'love-children', the Chastains, were likely to be caught short.

"Ha, that'll be the day, JK. Those two stockpile more weed and magic goodies through the year than the stores do. They are usually vapin' with the kids back and forth on the gondola--- don't worry too much on their account, honey. We'll be beggin' from their stash if a shortage comes down. What a laugh." Luke was well aware of the lovable older couple's ways, having seen their antics and habits over the years. "Hell, Pearl, they told me once that if a nuclear holocaust hits, they'll be hunkered down high." Missing his own oxymoron, he and Jake lit up a cannon-sized doobie as they continued their count.

Cal came out from the multi-person shower, drying off, mouthwateringly nude. Now wearing the second largest organ in the household, he was as at ease in his skin as Jeremy and the Jamaican. Rubbing his head, the big thing wobbled to the brisk toweling. Bryce, just walking in, was captivated by it. While used to Gai's hugeness, seeing the sleeping tens this similarly tall, slim, muscled man was packing set the small blonde's mind to considering.

He sat down next to Luke, accepting the blunt in quiet reflection. Still glancing in Cal's direction, the boy posed the soft query to his guru, "Are all giant black daddies hung that way, Luke?" he sucked on the roach as he contemplated the black residents in the house and mentally extrapolated to the stories of the Rome brotherhood...all were well over six feet tall and every one of them packed at least nine inches.

Cal guffawed, overhearing the question, 'No, boi, we are not all hung the same. In point of fact, the white race claims some of the biggest endowments. There are plenty of lines of genetically diminutive black men, just like there are over-sized other races. It's just a myth perpetrated by black females to fend off white girls from stealing 'their mens'. Big dicks scare women." His poker-faced demeanor left the surprised kid flummoxed. By firstly being overheard, and secondly over the novel idea. He didn't know Cal well enough yet to apprise the man's sense of humor. The poker face threw him.

A sudden big grin dispelled the nerves edging into Bryce's face and he sniggled in high-pitched relief. "Actually, Bryce," Jake cut in, expelling a cloud of sweet smoke, "the Bourbon Kings of Charlemagne's lineage were purported to average fourteen-inch dicks. For several centuries, the men of that genetic line petrified the women throughout the kingdom. It's thought by quite a few historians to be the reason so many Christian women wore wimples and veils: to avoid attention from the king. The one man who could take anyone, man or woman, whenever he desired. Can you imagine a worse reason to get religion and 'frock up'? In that time, absolute rule and the 'Divine Right of Kings' were paramount and French kings were notoriously lecherous. More than one succumbed to syphilis by their wandering eyes, a slow death sentence back then. Check out King Francis I. The man fucked sheep and turtles, for God's sake."