The Carny Pt. 01

Another younger/older, 'bearotica' romance from yours truly.

I sense that many fans of the genre prefer the younger and smaller fellow's point of view, so I'm giving that a try in this one. This is my first attempt at a longer story arc. It develops at a slower-than-normal pace for my writing, but I assure you it lives up to the promise of the opening passage.

As always, I encourage your comments and feedback. Any submitted with a working email address will receive a prompt and meaningful reply.

Disclaimers:

Only Literotica has my permission to publish this work and all characters are at least eighteen years of age.

*****

THE CARNY

by bhart1

Part One:

I felt Roy tense up beneath me and his fat cock began to pulse in my mouth. I cinched my lips to its substantial girth to receive his gift. It jetted into the tight suction I'd created on him in anticipation of it.

Once he relaxed I lifted my head from his loins with a noisy slurp and proudly showed him my tongue swimming in his copious discharge. Seeing how pleased he was I gulped it down.

"Did I do good?" I asked.

"You did great, sport!" he assured me with a loving smile.

I was a totally smitten eighteen year old. The gentle giant hooked his huge hands under my shoulders and effortlessly dragged me from between his thighs up onto his furry, planet-sized belly. He stuffed my mouth on his thick tongue. Palming the back of my head in one of his platter-sized paws, he pressed my face to his.

The scrape of his end-of-day beard stubble on my youthful skin went straight to my cock like an electric shock. I instinctively responded by hunching the prodigious paunch that parted my legs. He giggled as I erupted in an intense orgasm of my own during his passionate kiss, matting his belly hair in my viscous emission as I began to glide around on him.

"My angel," he sighed as he gently rolled me off to his side.

He scooped my load off our stomachs onto his cock-thick fingers and inserted them into my mouth one by one for me to suck clean. The strong arm on which my head rested, the upper portion of which was easily as big around as one of my thighs, folded around my shoulders and drew me in. I twined a lock of his luxurious chest hair around my index finger.

"I love sucking you so much!" I confessed.

"Mmmmhhh...I sure can't remember anyone ever doing a finer job of it," he almost whispered as he cradled me in his arms.

I sank my fingers down in the layer of fat that covered Roy's expansive chest and appreciatively kneaded them into the dense musculature beneath it. He peppered the top of my head with affectionate kisses before reaching down with his free hand to pull the sheet up over us. I reveled in the safety of his embrace.

Looking up into his sexually sated gaze, I felt only pride in my accomplishment. We drifted off together while I nestled down in the security I couldn't imagine anyone but him being able to provide me.

* * * * *

The summer after my high school graduation in 1973 was full of adventure and self-discovery. I'll remember it for the rest of my life.

It was the perfect antidote for the tragedy that befell me when, just after the start of my senior year, my grandfather died. I loved him very much and losing him devastated me.

He owned a small but thriving horse farm in a semi-rural community a bit north of Lexington, Kentucky, and the summers I spent working it with him were precious to me. The work was hard but rewarding.

My dad and his brother, Bruce, had stayed nearby but never really cottoned to the physical labor that was involved in its modest success. When Granddad died they sold his business off for a surprisingly tidy sum that they split evenly.

In retrospect, Uncle Bruce was a fun loving kid-at-heart kind of fellow. One of my favorite memories of him is that, from the time I was old enough to escape the constant supervision of my parents, each July he would take me to the small traveling carnival that stopped in our town - every evening of its week long run.

He would ride all the rides with me, win me stuffed animals at the gaming tents and take me through all the corny sideshows over and over again. He seemed just as entranced by it all as I was.

One of his favorite sideshows was a 'Dance of the Seven Veils' type girly show. It had probably been pretty risque during the hey-day of that kind of traveling show but, by the time I came along, the barker who collected admission for it assured him it was nothing that could corrupt the morals of a youngster my age.

Bruce was utterly smitten by Fabulous Frieda, the girl who headlined it. My main attraction was to the lengthy chats we engaged in with the barker before and after the shows.

His name, we learned, was Roy McManus and he was this imposing man-mountain who inexplicably fascinated me. The rich, resonant bass tones of his voice enveloped me like a soft security blanket.

He was jollier than Santa Claus, with an ever-present smile that always gave me a heart-warming tingle. It was wreathed in grandfatherly jowls and he had this close cropped mane of silver hair that framed the upper half of his round, handsome face. Deeply creased crow's feet flanked coal gray eyes that always had a twinkle in them.

He had the widest, thickest shoulders and the biggest, strongest looking arms and hands I think I've seen to this very day. His wide, prominent jaw line set it all off with an air of unquestionable authority. I was in love with the way his strong chin rested so comfortably on his immense chest every time he looked down to speak with me.

Over the ensuing years we struck up quite an acquaintance with Mr. McManus and I always got a twinge of sadness at the end of their week's stay, wondering if I could last the twelve months it would take for me to see him again. Every year I would try so hard to memorize his most striking features and then panic as their details became fuzzier and less accurate - until the next July rolled around to refresh my memory.

That carnival became a ritual Uncle Bruce and I engaged in every summer right through high school. I was growing and maturing year by year, but Roy seemed to remain unchanged by time.

Yet, even as we became almost even in height, I still reverted to the smitten little boy who first set eyes on him every time I stood in his commanding presence. My fascination with our stark size difference in every other respect seemed undying.

When my sexuality began to awaken during adolescence I added another of Roy's manly features to my already long list of favorites. I came to realize that the great lump in the left leg of his otherwise roomy looking trousers was his balls.

Their potency became the stuff of legend in my young mind during the hours I spent imagining him naked. After getting a look at a porno magazine in my mid-teens his giant naked form began engaging in sex with the petite Frieda, who had remained the apple of Bruce's eye as much as Roy had mine.

Much to my surprise, just after my senior year resumed in January Uncle Bruce told me that he'd learned our beloved carnival had fallen on such hard times that it might cease operation. He then shared that he'd decided to use some of his windfall from the sale of Granddad's horse farm to purchase controlling interest and lend it some of his keen business acumen.

That news elevated him to almost celebrity staus in my eyes.

He also told me that the advance man, who traveled a step ahead of the carnival to secure each county's fairgrounds and purchase the required operating licenses, had decided to retire. He had become too frail for the road and especially for overseeing the carnival's rigrous one-day set up prior to each week's stand.

Uncle Bruce then shared that Roy had been the man's appointed overseer for striking the carnival when it concluded and packing it up to travel to the next stop. So, as the new principal owner, he had engineered the former advance man a more than adequate retirement and promoted Roy to fill his position.

I was thrilled for Roy that he'd been promoted but, at the same time, was once again devastated that I would probably never see him again either. Both of the men I most admired had seemingly been taken from me in only four months time.

That was when Uncle Bruce laid the surprise to end all surprises on me. For my graduation gift he had cleared it with my parents for me to spend the summer traveling with Roy as his assistant if I was interested.

I confirmed my interest by throwing my arms around him in a bear hug so tight I nearly squeezed the life out of him.

"Whoa, Eddie!" he struggled to get out.

"What?" I suspiciously asked as I released him, "Is there some down side to this I'm not seeing?"

"Well, just that it isn't a vacation we're talking about here," he cautioned me, "My goal is for you to earn money for college...and a car, if you're smart. But the operative word here is 'EARN'. You're going to be Roy's employee and, more importantly, you'll be my employee. I've talked this over with him and you're going to have to work your ass off in order to make a go of it. You get no points for being the principal owner's nephew. If I find out from him, or anyone on his crew, that you're not pulling your weight...you're gone."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah...that about covers it, I think."

"Sounds fair to me, Uncle Bruce. I used to work my ass off for Granddad every summer. I don't see why I can't do the same for you."

"Alright, then...assuming you successfully crack the books and graduate in May you'll be a carny when summer rolls around. Deal?"

"Deal!" I said, sticking my hand out to him.

We shook on it.

Keeping my mind on my studies with the prospect of such a grand adventure looming in my immediate future was more difficult than I ever imagined. But I stuck to my guns and, shortly before noon on the last Saturday that May, I threw my duffle bag into the trunk of Bruce's car. We set off to meet up with Mr. McManus at the carnival's stop in a little town southeast of Bristol, Tennessee.

It was only a four or five hour drive, but it seemed interminable. I spent the entire time trying, and not entirely successfully, to visualize my almost lifelong crush while the minutes slowly ticked by. We finally arrived and set out to roam the grounds in search of him.

Uncle Bruce led the way, so we naturally wound up at the big tent in the center that housed his beloved girly show. I was first to spot Mr. McManus' unmistakable corpulence down at the opposite end of the adjoining corridor of gaming tents and loudly whistled to him.

He looked in the direction from which he'd heard it and, even from that far away distance, managed to warm my heart with the smile he beamed our way. We all hurriedly began stepping off the yards of turf between us. I knew exactly who he had replaced by his clothing, although I had never bothered to learn the man's name or even his role with the crew.

Roy was dressed in a pair of khaki trousers, a red flannel shirt opened to the second button with its sleeves rolled half-way up his huge forearms, and a pair of well-worn Coleman work boots. I guessed it to be, and correctly it turned out, the uniform for the position he now held.

The closer we got the more my eyes were magnetically drawn to the captivating bulge in his pants, rolling in perfect rhythm with the steady pump of his mighty thighs. He stuck his huge hand out as he greeted us. When it swallowed mine I was struck by its firm yet gentle grasp.

"Look at this guy! Practically a grown man! Hard to believe this is the same little kid you first brought to my tent...what...ten years ago?" the giant boomed.

"He is!" my uncle proudly beamed with a slap on my back.

"It's awfully good to see you, Mr. McManus!" I enthused.

"Same here!"

I was suddenly struck by something else about Roy. In all the years I'd known him he'd always been dressed as a barker; black shoes, black trousers and a white shirt buttoned to the top for the traditional bolo tie.

I found myself staring at what his open collar revealed; a sexy patch of chest hair, silver to match that of his head. It sprouted up out of a hint of sexy cleavage formed by the meaty slabs that adorned his massive chest.

It was the biggest challenge I'd yet faced not to stand there and finish undressing him with my awe-stricken-eighteen-year-old's eyes. Somehow I managed to stay in touch with the developing conversation, though.

"Frieda's show is about to start, boss man. Why don't you grab an eye full while I tour the grounds with my new carny here and fill him in," Roy suggested.

He didn't have to say it twice. Uncle Bruce was off like a shot.

Roy draped an arm over my shoulders and wrapped his inhumanly large hand around the outer one. I tingled from his touch and reveled in the feel of his powerful bulk against me. It was hard to concentrate, but he was all business as he guided me around and explained a lot of things I'd never thought about regarding the carnival's operation.

The information packed tour lasted about forty-five minutes and ended where we'd started, back at the girly show. Roy made a few closing comments, folding his inconceivably big arms atop his majestic belly while resting his rump back on one of the metal barriers that encircled the big tent's entrance.

As he spoke he lifted his left leg to catch the heel of his work boot on the lower rail, giving me a bird's eye view of that magnificent bulge. I stole glance after glance at it, trying hard to listen but ultimately failing to keep myself from trying to imagine it in the flesh.

"Well, have I?" he snapped me out of my reverie.

"I'm sorry?" I had to confess my ignorance to the meaning of his question.

His deep voice rumbled up from his cavernous chest in raucous laughter.

"I say, I haven't scared you off from the job, have I?"

"Oh! No, sir! Not a chance!" I eagerly confirmed.

"Good," he said sounding pleased, "Ah! Here comes the boss man, now."

"So, did you give him the low down?" my uncle asked.

"Sure did. He's going to do a fine job. I just know it!"

Bruce turned to me and said, "Looks like you're a carny now. You be sure and do everything Mr. McManus tells you to...and to the very best of your ability...okay?"

"I promise," I vowed.

"He's all yours, Roy. I'm parked over by the Tilt-A-Whirl. If you'll meet us there we can switch his bag over to your truck."

"I've got Larry collecting the evening tills. Let me meet him at the office and put 'em in the safe, then I'll be right over."

We walked back to Bruce's car and talked some more while we waited. He stressed the importance of me logging in with Mom and Dad by phone at least once a week.

Before long a well-used '62 Chevy pickup rolled to a stop behind us and Bruce opened his trunk. I grabbed my duffle bag and tossed it into the back of the truck as Roy hopped out.

"I'm going to stick around and take Frieda out to dinner after her last show. I'll catch up with you guys again in a couple of weeks or so. Take good care of Eddie...and make SURE he EARNS his pay!" my uncle reminded Roy as he opened the truck's passenger door for me.

"Don't you worry!" Roy assured him.

I got in and he closed it, then gave me a quick wink before he turned around.

"Hey, Bruce," the big man called out.

"Yeah?"

"Tomorrow's Sunday and Frieda's got shows all day. Make sure she's not bow-legged for 'em."

I'd never seen my uncle blush such a bright red as he cast a flustered glance my way. I laughed out loud at his shock over Roy taking him down a peg with his cheeky admonition.

"Yeah...um...sure thing," he obsequiously stammered as he beat a hasty retreat back to the fairgrounds.

Roy strode around the front of the truck and got in the driver's seat, laughing all the way.

As he settled into it he slapped my thigh and said, "He's checked up on us a good five times this season already. Frieda tells me they fuck like rabbits."

In spite of Bruce's reputation as something of a playboy bachelor in our family, I'd never really thought about him as a sexual being before. I rather liked being introduced to the concept by the object of my own lust. It started the looming adventure by giving me a warm sense of closeness to Roy that he would take me into his confidence that way.

"As long as he's had the hots for her I'm not surprised," I replied with a laugh, "I have no idea what he paid to buy into this outfit...but that sure explains why."

Roy slapped my thigh again as he let fly with another hardy laugh.

"I'm hungry as a bear! How 'bout dinner?" he asked.

"Count me in!"

"I know just the place."

He drove us to a little diner called Gold Star Cafe. It had gotten a brick veneer at some point, but the awning over the parking spaces made clear that it had come to life as a drive-in joint back in the '50s.

We went in and grabbed a table. A waitress showed up in a jiffy and I ordered my usual hamburger basket with a Coke.

"Aren't you a cheap date!" Roy exclaimed.

He then proceeded to order a double platter of chicken fried steak "with a heapin' helpin' of mashed potatoes...and don't skimp on the gravy, little lady", a side of fried okra, a large basket of Texas toast and a pitcher of Falstaff beer.

I'm not sure why, but the sight of that huge man tearing into that enormous meal gave me yet another hard-on. Unbelievably it was only a couple of minutes after I finished that I watched him sop his last piece of toast in the last streaks of gravy on his otherwise clean plate and put it away. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his full belly while he poured the off the last of his pitcher into his glass.

"Too bad you're not twenty-one," he said and then drank it down in three successive gulps.

"Someday," I said, in awe of the way he'd man-handled his quaff.

Our waitress came and cleared the dishes from our table.

"Anything else, gentlemen?"

"Nothing for me," he said, then looked at me, "You?"

I shook my head.

"Same check or separate?"

"One check, sweetheart," he replied, giving me a wink as he said, "Welcome aboard, Hoss."

The man was physically far better suited to the role of Bonanza's gigantic middle Cartwright son than even Dan Blocker had been, so the irony in his welcome was not lost on me. But I felt so all grown up and on my own that it landed like sweet music on my young ears.

"You really don't have to pay my check, Mr. McManus. I brought some money to get things rolling," I told him.

"Technically I'm not...not the whole thing anyway...just the part over and above our per Diem," he explained.

"Per Diem?" I asked

"An extra bit of money your uncle gives us to live on each day...that's what he calls it...don't know why. Anyway, it's already in the budget and figures into your pay," he said.

"Never heard of it. I like it, though."

"Well, it's never as much as you actually end up spending. But, I guess it's the thought that counts," he said with a smile as he stood and pulled a roll of bills out of his pocket.

I laughed at his friendly dig at Uncle Bruce and then headed to the restroom while he left the tip and settled the check. A few minutes later we were back in his truck.

"Been a long day. Mind if we just go to the room relax?"

"No, sir."

"Hope you don't mind that I booked us together. Cuts down on overhead."

"No, sir. Not a bit."

The calm in my voice disguised the elation that caused my pulse to pound in my ears at the news I would be bunking with him.

It was probably less than five minutes before he pulled the truck into one of those old-fashioned motor courts made up of single and duplexed bungalows. Ours was a fairly roomy single with two full-sized beds. We walked in and he pointed me to the one on the left. I put my bag down on it.