The Carny Pt. 03

I awoke the next morning to the sight of Roy's wadded up boxers lying on his empty bed and the sound of the shower already running. He had been naked in the room with me again and I had dozed through it. I was bitterly disappointed.

My mind filled with visions of the huge man's massive hands roaming the voluptuous contours of his kingly bulk. I dug a hand down into my briefs and fondled my morning erection as the scene played out in my mind.

The pipes clunked when he turned the shower off. I heard the curtain slide open and let my mind fill with the visuals inspired by the clearing of his throat and the deep grunts emanating from behind the closed door. A man so large in a room so small must surely have been struggling to get the postage stamp towels the place had on offer around to his hard to reach places.

The lavatory faucet ran for a bit. When it shut off there was the familiar squirt of a pressurized can. I knew he was shaving off the dense growth of his previous day's beard.

At that point, when I shaved at all, it was only because the few curls at the end of my chin and soft fuzz above my upper lip had become so unsightly as to look shamefully silly even to me. I wondered if I would ever have a need as demanding as his for a razor. The image of him with the lower half of his handsome, round face slathered in foamy white cream loomed large as I continued gently stroking my hard-on.

The water began to drain from the sink and the faucet briefly ran once again. He emerged from the bathroom already in a fresh change of underwear, his chest and belly hair still somewhat damp and matted to his powerful bulk in places.

"G'mornin"!"

"Morning," I croaked.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Like a rock...what time is it?"

"Nine-fifteen."

I watched him dress. He put on a pair of sheer black nylon socks that refused to stay up on his thick legs, then pulled on a pair of black casual slacks and belted them to his perfect belly. Next he slung on a beige short sleeve shirt that magnificently showcased the rippling of his brutish forearms when he buttoned it up, only to the second button from the top as had become his custom.

Coarse silvery strands of chest hair peeked out, barely brushing his manly jowls as they glistened in the morning light. He left his shirttail out. I had never seen 'casual' look so sexy. He sat on the foot of his bed and slipped on a well-worn pair of Hush Puppy loafers, then rose to his feet and took what I thought was a rather long look at me.

"I'll go pay the room charge while you clean up."

He grabbed his wallet and quickly counted the cash in it, then snatched up the key and left. I bolted from the bed, grabbed my other change of clothes and then dashed to the bathroom to relieve the stiff condition of my cock.

I furiously fisted what stood at attention from my loins at the memory of his intact cock popping out of his fly. The way it had flopped over on his lap, as if to get a look at me, replayed in my mind over and over. Within seconds I exploded in an intense and noisy orgasm.

My arousal over the rare beast of a man temporarily sated, I gathered my wits and did as he'd told me. When I emerged from the bathroom he was seated at the little table by the window. I was glad I had dressed since the curtain was thrown wide open while he studied a map.

"Lookin' sharp, sport!"

"Thanks...you too," I said as I sat on the foot of my bed to put on my shoes.

When I was done we stood at the same time.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"As a bear!"

I tried my best to imitate his sepulchral bass in mimicking his words from Friday night.

Roy's handsome belly shook with laughter and he seemed genuinely flattered by my attention to detail in imitating him. We grabbed our bags, left the room and pitched them into the back of his truck.

He pulled up in front of the office and tossed me the room key.

"Mind turning that in for us?"

"Be right back."

When I returned he drove us to Gold Star for breakfast, as I expected.

Probably due to the generosity of his tip, our same waitress from the previous two visits quickly laid claim to our table. He ordered the same breakfast as before. I thought better of it and went for one that, though large by my standards, was decidedly less bountiful than his.

"You're a fast learner, honey," she said with a wink and a smile.

We chowed down and were soon back on the road in search of I81.

The interstate highway system was still a relatively new thing back then and I was struck by how almost unused the pavement looked. Roy liked how much time they saved and how much easier they were for the carnival's caravan to navigate between stops, but spoke longingly of the old scenic routes he had to travel when he first led them.

"We're not in any big hurry. Mind if I show you how beautiful this country of ours really is?"

"I'd like that."

I was grateful for any opportunity to stretch out my time in such close quarters with him.

It was a time before interstate exits had been standardized by the nearest mile marker. At exit 1C in Virginia we got off and found a roadside picnic spot where he could map out the route.

"Haven't done this in a few years so I need to freshen up my memory."

My eyes were glued to the rippling of his massive forearms as he flattened the map to the table and traced the sausage-like index finger of his right hand over the cumbersome page. I watched in silence until he folded it back up.

"Got it," he announced as he rose, "I need to get rid of some coffee, how 'bout you?"

"You read my mind."

"Let's go down to that clump of trees, then."

It wasn't until we were already on our way that I realized what was about to happen and panicked that I might get hard when he hauled that dick of his out in the light of day. I nearly chickened out, but the prospect of getting a second look at it was so irresistible I continued trudging along at his side.

"This ought to do," he announced and stopped.

We unzipped and I hurriedly fished my dick out with my thumb and index finger. I figured the faster I could get it back in my pants the better.

I needn't have worried. When I saw his come out, the sense of inadequacy I'd felt the night before overcame me to the point that an erection was surprisingly beyond my ability to muster.

He popped the big lemon-shaped thing out of his fly and took it between the index and middle fingers of his right hand like a stogie. Each of those two fingers looked thicker to me than my flaccid cock, yet they just looked like fingers next to the thickness of what they held. I was in awe.

He noticed me watching when he rolled his hood back enough to reveal his tantalizingly big slit. My stream started just then and, to my relief, it was a strong one.

"No skin," he casually observed, looking at me while he waited for his stream to start, "don't know how lucky you are, sport."

My pride in the force behind my stream turned out to be short-lived. Once his arced out it was at least twice as thick and had nearly double the reach.

"I've never seen one with skin like yours," I confessed.

"Yeah, they didn't used to cut it off back when I was born...country boys like me were mostly home births anyway."

"Cut it off? You mean I used to have it?"

I was utterly confused.

"Yessiree, you sure did. And you can take my word...it's a pain in the ass."

"I have no memory of it. Seems like I should remember something like that, but I don't."

"Doctors call it circumcising," he said with a laugh, "They do it for all you boys now...practically as soon as you pop out of the womb. That's why you don't remember it."

"What makes it such a pain in the ass?" I inquired as I shook mine off and put it away.

His intrigued me and I saw no sense in trying to hide my ignorance at that point.

"Gotta work so hard at keeping it clean...pee, cum, that slick juice that leaks out of 'em when we get horny...it all gets trapped under there...makes for a stinky, nasty mess."

"I guess I never think about cleaning mine beyond just soaping it up in the shower."

"Exactly. In fact, I didn't either...till I went into the Marines during the big one."

He concluded his impressive show and retracted his member back into his pants. I'd had to register for the draft after turning eighteen the previous November, so his mention of the Marines caught my ear.

The draft was ended back in January, but college looked so unappealing at that point that the idea of enlisting had been rolling around in my head. With the war in Viet Nam winding down by then, it seemed like a safe and respectable option for buying some time to figure out what I wanted from life. I'd been trying to decide which branch.

"What did the Corps have to do with it?"

"In boot camp you make a VERY special friend. He's called your drill instructor. My DI was this wiry little hardboiled egg no taller than this," he held a hand out about shoulder high as we turned to head back to the truck, "Not even half my size it seemed, but he was all muscle...scared the livin' HELL out of me! Meanest SOB I ever met!"

Roy laughed when he saw my horror at his description of the man. I tried to imagine a giant like him being scared of anybody and simply couldn't wrap my mind around the idea.

"Aw-w-w, long as you do as you're told you get along fine. In fact, once I got overseas I always wanted to thank him for it. Biggest favor anybody ever did me. Anyway, a lot of us guys had skin back then, and never really gave much if any thought to the proper hygiene of it. He made us understand real quick that 'IT AIN'T CLEAN TILL YOU'D HAVE THE DAMN THING IN YOUR MOUTH, MAGGOTS!' Let me tell you, that put a mighty memorable spin on it for most of us."

I laughed with him, but then the question of what a slab of meat the size of his would feel like in my mouth...and how it would taste...nagged at me for the rest of the trip. I had to deal with the discomfort of my uncontrollably hard member for the remainder of the drive as Roy proudly pointed out the beauty of the passing scenery.

Due to our slow, snake-like route we didn't get to Christiansburg till shortly before two that afternoon. Roy decided we would pay a brief visit to the county/city office first to find out who all he would need to conduct business with the next day.

The chunky lady at the front desk looked to be about his age and appeared to be flirting with him. Roy played up to her and pumped her for any information she could give him about the various officials he would be interacting with. He also succeeded in getting directions from her to one of his preferred motor courts.

He liked the privacy they afforded and found the apartment-style design of modern motels too noisy for his liking. So our next stop was to secure a room. We quickly got our bags in and unpacked.

Since it was already nearly three-thirty he suggested relaxing a while first and then heading out for an early supper. I was becoming more smitten with him by the minute the longer I was around him, so I was happy to go along with anything he said. We stretched out on our beds.

"Would you like me to turn on the TV for you?"

Hell, I would've shined his shoes, done his laundry...whatever he wanted.

"Nah, nothing but soaps and game shows right now. Thanks, though."

So we just talked. Again it had the feel of a sleep over. I pumped him for more information about boot camp and he freely answered all my questions.

I didn't broach the war with him. My dad had served in World War II as well and had never shown any interest in reliving those memories. I just assumed the same would be true for Roy and sure enough, in spite of his openness about his induction and boot camp experiences, he never volunteered any information about his war time service.

As he filled me in on boot camp I realized that he had to have been about my age for it, yet I continued to visualize him as he looked to me in the present. I simply couldn't comprehend him looking any way other than the ball bellied, hulking behemoth he'd always been in my eyes. I couldn't imagine a creature so majestic ever being a kid like me.

He announced he was "hungry as a bear" again so we left in search of food. I began to pelt him with questions about what he was like at that age; what he looked like then, how big he was and how much he weighed, what sort of things he thought about, what he and his friends talked about "way back then".

In retrospect it was an absolutely relentless barrage, but I was totally consumed with him. Maybe it was an expression of some faint hope that I could someday grow into the kind of man he represented to me.

Roy was incredibly tolerant through the entire thing. It lasted all through dinner and even the ride back to our room.

He'd been my exact age, eighteen, when he enlisted. He allowed as how his extra large frame was purely the work of Mother Nature.

"Nobody but rich folks had enough food during the Depression to get fat. That didn't happen till after I got back from the Pacific," he explained.

He didn't even know his weight until he was inducted because "penny scales couldn't be found as far out in the country as we lived, and bathroom scales were still a thing of the future back then." To the best of his memory the Marines recorded him at "a slim and trim 235".

I was amazed. His weight at my age, attributable almost entirely to his frame thanks to the Depression, still had me beat by nearly eighty pounds.

According to him he was shaving daily sometime before he turned fourteen and pretty much all his body hair was beginning to sprout out just a tad later than that. His voice apparently dropped to a baritone at around the same time.

"Seemed like it all happened overnight," he said with a bewildered shake of his head.

I was clearly envious that he'd possessed so many adult male characteristics at such a remarkably young age.

"You might think that was a good thing, but it made me feel like a sideshow attraction...too grown up looking to fit in with kids my age and too young to be looked on as anything but a kid by the grownups. But believe me, everybody felt obliged to look and comment," he said with a good natured laugh.

It turned out he really hadn't ever been a kid like me, at least probably not since he'd been the age I was when he first grabbed my attention.

When we got back to the room he did his usual strip show. His reference to being a sideshow attraction suddenly made me realize what it was that drew my uncle to that big tent. I chuckled inwardly at the mental image of Roy swiveling his hips while casting off sheer, multi-colored veils to one side then the other.

With an entire week to spend in one place I had properly unpacked my belongings and decided to graciously join my host in his state of undress; perhaps not down to my skivvies like he so comfortably did, but at least down to one of the pairs of cut-off jeans I had brought along.

I still felt woefully more exposed than he for my lack of his generous allotment of body hair, but it seemed like the best solution for sharing in his semi-nakedness while still being able to conceal my erections. He was all grins as my interrogation continued.

Instead of shutting me down once he'd surely had enough, he turned the table and began inquiring about what it was like to be "that age" in the year 1973. The deep crow's feet from his incessant smile and the twinkle in his gorgeous eyes never left.

I found myself starting to think of him as a friend, though clearly not a peer. But I had certainly never talked about myself so freely with any adult before, not even Uncle Bruce. There was something decidedly different in the rapport we were developing.

He even coaxed an admission from me that I had tried drinking beer. I confessed that I hadn't much liked the taste but had enjoyed the tipsy feeling it gave me.

"That was my reaction too," he took me into his confidence.

He then gave me a mischievous grin and added, "But if you're like me that awful taste will start to grow on you."

I wanted nothing more than to be like him.

The term 'beer belly' was well known to me by that point. I immediately began to wonder if that was the genesis of the magnificent thing that led his powerful stride, and if it might benefit me in the same way.

With my own admittedly boyish body on display I felt less compelled to look away when he scratched his balls, or his belly, or his luscious looking nipples. I began to grow comfortable doing the same, in fact. However, I did still feel the need to be furtive about sneaking peeks into his gaping fly. The one new thrill he gave me on that third night was when he hoisted one of his massive arms over his head and scratched his armpit.

It was a thick mound, shaped much like the ones on his barrel chest or the sturdy ball of a belly that lent him such an air of authority. The hair that covered it looked about as densely populated as that on his chest and paunch, but the ratio of silver to black was tilted somewhat more in favor of the black.

Gradually he deftly steered the conversation away from the topics I'd previously thought of as too taboo to share with any adult prior to him. He raised the spectre of our few days off in the weeks ahead and asked how I wanted to spend them. I confessed that I hadn't even thought about it and assured him that I trusted his judgment.

"Okay, I'll think on it. Tomorrow's a big day. Guess we'd best be rested up for it."

I peeled out of my cut-offs and got under my covers, remaining on my side to hold him in my gaze.

He rolled onto his back and began working his way under his covers. I waited with baited breath to see if his incomparably fat cock might make another appearance. It didn't. He reached up to turn off the light between us and the room went dark.

Roy drifted off first and his comforting snore soon sounded out in its hypnotic rhythm. I snuggled down in my bed and reveled in it.

It seemed there was nothing about the man or his routine that didn't appeal to my sense of well-being. Even his imposing physical presence made me feel secure rather than intimidated. The intensity of the feelings I'd had for him prior to the advent of traveling with him seemed to pale in comparison.

I tried to think if I'd felt such feelings for anyone before, including blood relatives. I couldn't come up with a single example. Before I knew it the soporific sound of him in slumber once again escorted me to Dreamland.

The next day proved to be a busy one, indeed. I was struck by the way the grown men we met responded to his commanding presence. They seemed as much his employees as I was in their eagerness to accommodate him. It made me proud to be his friend and traveling companion.

We finished with them earlier than expected and were able to get even farther ahead of schedule by placing our print ad with the local paper that afternoon. By four o'clock we were back in our room playing cards. He started teaching me the "art and science of poker", which he said no carny worth his salt could get by without.

By six we had found another restaurant to try. He felt the portions at the previous night's were too skimpy compared with the Gold Star. This one was much more to his liking. We were done shortly after seven and the light in the sky was getting dusky.

"Well, looks like we get one of those unexpected days off tomorrow. The caravan won't get here till Thursday and we pretty well knocked out what we needed to get done today. Want to catch a drive-in picture show?"

"Sure!"

Two to four hours in such close proximity with him naturally held its usual attraction for me. We got directions to where it was situated on the outskirts of town. It was kind of run down and was showing an outdated '007' double bill, "Dr. No" and "From Russia with Love".