Jack and The Fat Man Pt. 02

Thanks for everyone who commented so positively on the first part.......

This is a work of fiction. All names and places are fictional. It contains mild incestuous voyeurism and continues in the same vein as the first part. Hopefully you'll enjoy.

He'd said it. He'd actually asked to see Arnold's cock! Jack couldn't quite believe what was happening. A few minutes ago, they'd been sitting together, drinking a beer and chatting about......he couldn't remember. Whatever it was, it didn't matter anymore because, after what he'd just said, Jack knew everything was about to change.

He sat nervously waiting for Arnold's reaction, watching the old man's big hands gripping the arms of his chair as he leaned forward. Arnold didn't say a word. The silence was palpable and Jack began to anticipate the worst. Most likely some form of "gotcha" that would soon be spreading around the village like wildfire. Maybe something worse. Something Jack couldn't quite imagine as his eyes fixated on the old man's huge bulk rising. He was regretting it now and was beyond nervous. Physically trembling.

With his heart pounding, so hard he began to feel lightheaded, Jack's vision blurred. Blinking and squeezing his eyelids tightly, trying to regain his focus, he watched Arnold walking the few short steps towards him, moving in snapshots. With one final blink he was there, standing right in front of him. Jack could almost feel the heat of the old man's bulge, fighting against the constraints of his shorts, warming his flushed face. This was the closest he'd ever been to another man's cock, but after years of ridicule, he still couldn't shake the sense of foreboding.

"It's ok, Jack," Arnold's voice drifted down reassuringly. "Ain't nothing wrong with 2 men having a bit of fun. You've done the hard bit. Now all you have to do is pull my shorts down and you'll get to see what you've been wanting to see all week."

Without realising he'd stopped breathing, Jack exhaled. It wasn't a joke or some kind of cruel ruse. Arnold really was going to let him see it. Jack's tiny cock was spilling precum at such a rate, his groin was sopping wet. He watched his own trembling hands rising up, as if he was just a bystander watching on. They looked so small against Arnolds huge belly before disappearing under the T-shirt. Fumbling to find the waistband, Arnold's flesh felt warm and taut and furry before his fingertips slipped behind the elasticated material.

"That's it, Jack," he heard the old man say. "You're doing fine. Don't be frightened. Ain't nothing to be scared of."

The first thing he saw was a thick mass of black pubic hair as he gently pulled the shorts down. There looked to be more hair above Arnold's cock than he had on his whole body. It glistened as the evening sunlight danced across the each wiry strand. A little lower and the base of the old man's cock came into view. It looked thick. Much thicker than his brother's. The skin looked darker too.

Jack tried to swallow as his heartbeat increased in anticipation, but his mouth was too dry. Having to pull a little harder, he moved his hands wider to get the waistband over Arnolds hips and then his huge upper thighs. Slowly, inch by inch, more of his cock came into view until with a sudden pop, it sprang out, bouncing briefly before quickly settling at a 45 degree upward slant.

"There you go, Jack," Arnold said softly. "I think he's happy to see you."

He heard the words, but, well, he didn't. Jack's thoughts were running at light speed, threatening to overwhelm him. It was all too much for him to take in at once. Surprisingly, it was the smell hit him first. He just didn't expect it, but why would he? This wasn't some fantasy. This was real and the musky, sweaty, soapy yet sweet scent hit him like a hammer blow. Far from being unpleasant, it was the shock that caused him to recoil. Actually, the scent was........good?

"Is this the first 'man cock' you've seen, Jack?" Arnold asked, his voice thick with excitement. He always enjoyed the additional thrill of these "first time" moments.

Jack could only sit there motionless. Arnold's cock was long. Longer than his brother's, but not by much. It was a lot thicker though. Close up, it looked twice as thick and unlike Mark and himself, it was uncut. The foreskin looked taut around the helmet, which was just poking out, purple and swollen and wet. Precum was oozing from the deep looking hole at the tip. The thick, dark, curved shaft was riddled with veins, some small, some larger. But there was one really thick vein that mesmerised him. It ran the whole length along the left hand side, from the base to the very tip of the foreskin, bulging and straining. Truthfully, Arnold's cock was kind of ugly, yet disturbingly beautiful, rhythmically throbbing as if it had it's own life force.

Jack bllnked and looked towards Arnold's scrotum. The skin, the same tone as his cock, looked tight beneath the mop of curly hair that covered it. Tight but large. He could clearly see each testicle nestled snugly inside. Just one looked to be bigger than both his own small balls. His eyes shifted back. For a whole week Jack had been trying to imagine this. Trying to conjure up an image of what Arnold's cock would look like and suddenly there it was. Big, thick and beautifully ugly, throbbing and dripping right in front of him. It was scary. It was real........and it kind of took his breath away.

"That, Jack," he heard the old man proudly announce. "Is 7 and a half inches of pure fucking man meat. You can hold it if you like." It wasn't the first time he'd used that line. Arnold had learned a long time ago that he was gifted with a decent sized, thick cock. Cocksuckers, gay or not, loved it. Bottoms loved it even more when it stretched their arseholes. Jack would too......in time.

He didn't mind the old man's blatant pride. It was "pure fucking man meat." He had every right to brag, didn't he? He had every right to feel proud. If he had a cock like Arnold's, he would brag too. Nobody would look at him and laugh. Nobody would wiggle their little finger and call him "peewee" or "girlyboy." But he didn't have a cock like Arnold's. This cock, Arnold's cock, was wider than his was long. He couldn't even begin to fathom what it would be like to have a cock as big, as thick, as hairy and as beautiful as the one one he was looking at.

For the first time in what seemed like an age, Jack spoke. "H....hold it?" he stuttered. "But......this......I'm....." Words wouldn't form. Jack couldn't think straight.

"Ain't no use just looking at it, Jack. Start with my balls if you like," he encouraged.

He didn't even contemplate he had any choice because his hand was already moving. Tentatively reaching out, Jack cupped Arnold's scrotum, the coarse hairs tickling his palm. It felt warm and humid and his balls felt heavy and big, filling his whole hand easily. The comparison to his own tiny hairless sack was......well, there really was no comparison. Arnold's cock twitched lazily and a string of glistening precum fell to rest just above Jack's wrist, momentarily linking them together before breaking at the tip and falling to his forearm.

"Mmmm, that's nice, Jack," the old man groaned. "Can you feel the weight? Give them a gentle squeeze. Get a feel for them."

So Jack squeezed, gently rolling the balls around in his hand. He was fascinated by the squidgy sensation and the way they moved independently, but it was the size and weight that really fascinated him. More precum fell onto his arm, stringing then breaking and pooling on his skin, before slowly rolling down towards the crevice of his elbow.

"Feels good don't it, Jack," Arnold said. "You'll never forget holding a man's bollocks for the first time."

It did feel good. It felt really good. Better than he could have anticipated. Jack's excitement was at boiling point too. This should have felt wrong, but it didn't and his stomach fluttered wildly. This was so much better than he'd felt a week ago with......'her.' His tiny cock and balls ached so, so badly. Arnold was right. He would never forget this moment.

"Now, Jack," he heard the old man say. "Why don't you put your hand on it."

As he took hold, Jack's version of what a cock truly felt like changed forever. Unlike his own, where a finger and thumb were really the only digits he could use, with this cock he had to use his whole hand. Even then, as he wrapped his fingers around it, they weren't able to meet his thumb. His touch was so gentle, he could actually feel that thick vein pulsing in his palm. He could also feel a thick ridge running along the underside that seemed to perfectly fit the crevice between his thumb and forefinger. The skin was soft and velvety, enveloping the thick, swollen, hard yet spongy muscle underneath throbbing in his grip. It felt so......powerful. It was completely alien to him. A sensation he could never achieve with his own tiny appendage.

"What do you think, Jack?" the old man asked. "Grip it harder if you like." And as Jack tightened his grip, Arnold breathed a soft moan. "Fuck yeah. That's it, Jack. Get a good firm grip. Give it a wank if you want to."

Moving his hand slowly up and down, Jack was almost hypnotised by the way the foreskin moved back, slipping effortlessly over the wide flare to expose Arnold's shiny, swollen and wet purple glans. Then up, sliding back over, almost to the tip, releasing another long string of viscous precum. He was actually wanking another man's cock! And he liked it. God, he really liked it.

"Fuck, Jack," Arnold groaned. "You're a natural. Keep it nice and steady. Yeah, just like that."

Guiding Jack was the key. Letting him get used to holding a cock and not rushing him too. He probably didn't even know he was gay, but Arnold knew. He'd sensed it as soon as he saw him. He also knew that first timers, young or old, gay or curious, needed gentle encouragement, to go at their own pace. It was only a matter of time until Jack accepted his sexuality and Arnold wanted to be the man who benefited when he did.

It was selfish and Arnold knew it, but he was also a pragmatist. He was a 58 year old gay man living in a small rural English village. Young gay virgins weren't exactly commonplace, especially those with Jack's particular qualities. He knew they were never going to fall in love. Their relationship, if it did become that, would only ever be about sex. Pure and simple. So he would take this opportunity. He would grasp it with both hands and use it until Jack, as he guessed would eventually happen, moved on. With a bit of luck, they might, at the very least, become friends too.

For a full 5 minutes Jack worked Arnold's big, thick prick. Sitting there in awe. Watching closely. Drinking it in. Fearful he may forget.

"I think you'd better stop, Jack," Arnold's voice broke the silence as he pulled away, snapping him out of his reverie. "If you carry on, you'll have me spunking and I don't think you're ready for that yet."

But he didn't want to stop. Why would he? This was the best experience of his life. There was no humiliation or ridicule. Arnold wasn't laughing at him. Quite the opposite. His big cock was hard for him. It wanted him. It was turned on by him. It wanted to cum for him.....because of what he was doing. God. He actually felt special.

"I.........I......don't want to stop," he mewed, looking up at Arnold's red face.

"One step at a time, Jack," he explained. "I ain't going anywhere and we can do it again on Monday if you still want to," he added, pulling his shorts up and sitting back in his armchair.

Flushed and disappointed, Jack took gulps of beer as Arnold chatted and reality slowly returned. He saw kids playing on the village green through the small window of the living room. He heard the birds singing outside and all the other ordinary sounds of life as he looked back towards Arnold, sitting in his chair. If it wasn't for the drying precum on his arm and his own wet groin, he might have thought it hadn't happened at all.

Then, without even being aware of it, Jack was at the front door and Arnold was speaking. "Have a think about what we've done tonight, Jack," he said as he opened the door. "It's a lot to take in, but if you still want to on Monday, we'll go a bit further."

Over the course of weekend and whilst going through his normal routines and chores, Jack questioned himself. He thought hard. He probably didn't realise how lucky he was that Arnold hadn't 'encouraged' him to go further and given him time to reflect. He probably wasn't aware that some other men wouldn't have been so thoughtful. Jack was disappointed though, but that in itself meant something didn't it? The whole experience, albeit quite short, had been so overwhelming, yet it had felt right. It had felt natural and he'd wanted to see Arnold cum. He wasn't sure if it meant he was gay, but.........

Late on Saturday evening, whilst his parents were out at the pub, Jack waited in his bedroom for the tell tale signs that his brother wanking. It was the first time he actually planned to watch and was already hard when he slipped quietly into the hall. Why Mark never fully closed his bedroom door, Jack didn't know, but tonight he was especially glad. Tonight was different from all the other times.

As always, Mark was lying naked on his bed. His cock was so different to Arnold's. It was much paler in colour, smoother and definitely not as thick. With no foreskin he could see the bulbous glans was pink. Arnold's was much darker. He liked the way Mark would stop occasionally, look down at himself whilst holding his cock at the base, before continuing. It was almost like he was admiring it. He thought of how proud Arnold had seemed and now, looking at his brother, he thought Mark looked proud too. He had good looking cock. It was prettier than Arnold's, but then, Arnold's was a man's cock.

Briefly, he wondered what Mark might be thinking and then his imagination took over. Mark was calling him in and not at all angry that he'd been watching. He told Jack to sit next to him and showed his cock off to him, gripping it at the base so it stood proud. Then he told Jack to hold it, just the way Arnold had and then........Jack forced himself to stop. He knew what he was thinking was wrong and guilt consumed him. Instead he just watched and waited. He counted them off in his head. 6 long spurts of spunk, shooting almost to his neck. It looked so white and creamy as it splattered over his chest and stomach. God, he wished he could shoot like that. Then as Mark turned to get tissues, Jack slipped back to his bedroom thinking thoughts he shouldn't be thinking.

He masturbated twice. Once on Saturday evening and once on Sunday. Now that he'd seen and held Arnold's cock, his imagination seemed to spiral. He began thinking things he'd never thought of before. Mostly though, young Jack was captivated by the feeling that someone found him attractive enough to be turned on. That someone wanted him.

He drifted through work on Monday as if it were a dream, constantly wondering what might happen later and how he would tell Arnold he wanted to go further. By the time he'd showered and started to get ready to go, he was nervous. But it was a nice nervous. A feeling he rarely had. It was another hot evening and whether he understood why or not, he chose a white loose fitting vest top and tight denim shorts to wear. It was a real struggle trying to squeeze himself into them. After tying his long red hair in a ponytail, he slipped on some trainers and took a look in his mirror.

Last week he would never have worn those shorts. They were too tight and too short. They accentuated his oversized buttocks rather than disguised them, but somewhere in the back of his mind he recalled Arnold saying something nice about his arse. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. Maybe he wasn't a freak. Whatever the case, Jack kind of felt good......it was so big though and for a fleeting moment he considered changing.

His mother noticed immediately when she saw him heading out, carefully suggesting he take another top and some jogging bottoms with him "in case it got chilly later" whilst avoiding stating the obvious.

"I think I'll be ok, mum," he told her, noting the look in her eyes. Was it worry? Concern perhaps? Something else? Jack wasn't sure.

As soon as he left the house and started the short journey to Arnold's cottage, Jack wished he'd chosen to wear something else. Instead of turning back, he forced himself to carry on and ignored the stares and whispered mutterings. Walking by the pub was even worse because some of his old tormentors were drinking outside. The name calling and wolf whistles were almost unbearable and Mason, their ringleader was particularly vicious, but somehow Jack managed to forge on without bursting into tears.

"Just fucking ignore the twats," Arnold told him when Jack explained why he looked so unhappy. "Ain't no worse than what they say about me. Go get us a beer and we'll have a chat," he added, placing a paw like hand on his shoulder reassuringly before fixing his gaze on Jack's jiggling buttocks as he wandered towards the kitchen.

"Mason Jackson?" Arnold snorted through his beer a few minutes later. "If you promise to keep your mouth shut," he added. "I'll show you something to take your mind off it when that little cunt starts gobbing off," he said, beckoning Jack over. He hadn't planned to, but feeling particularly upset at what he'd heard, Arnold took the opportunity he was presented with.

Nodding eagerly, Jack stood up and moved over to sit on the arm of the big man's chair, watching him reach over to grab his phone. A thumb print later, the screen flickered to life and Arnold opened his photo album, found what he was looking for and turned the image towards Jack.

"Recognise anyone?" Arnold asked, his lips curling into into a wry smile. He expected it would cheer Jack up, but hoped it would do something else too.

Jack's eye's widened in disbelief as he took in the image of his tormenters father and village pub landlord, naked on his knees with a cock stuffed in his mouth. It was Arnold's cock, he knew instantly. He even recognised the living room carpet.

"Is that.....?" he started to ask incredulously. "But he's married."

"Yep. That's Bob alright. He's been sucking my cock on and off for.....let's just say, years," he explained with a smirk, gently manoeuvring his left arm around the young man's waist. "His wife ain't much better, Jack," he furthered. "She was the village "bike" back in the day. Had more cock up her than I can fucking count. Even had a go myself when I was coming to terms with being gay. She ain't slowed down that much either from what I hear."

Jack had never seen anything quite so pornographic and his tiny cock burst into life. If the Arnold hadn't shown him the photo he might never have believed it, but it was irrefutable. With the shock beginning to subside, he suddenly became aware of Arnold's big hand resting on his upper thigh and his cock stiffened even further. It was the intimacy that caught him by surprise. That and the sense of safety he felt. He wanted to wrap his arms around Arnold's broad shoulders and lean in, but didn't have the nerve.

"I.....I've never seen anything like that before," he gasped. "How did.....I mean.....when....?"

Arnold burst into laughter. "Calm yourself down," he wheezed, then squeezed Jack's thigh before gently patting his left cheek. "All in good time," he said, adding. "Knowledge is power, Jack. Don't you forget it. The next time Mason starts on you just remember. His dad's a cocksucker and his mother.......well, I think you get my point."

Jack nodded thoughtfully.

"Talking of forgetting things," the old man continued. "Let's not forget why you're here. There's my bedrooms to clean. Start with the spare room. Upstairs, first door on the left."