Uncle Tom's Cabin Ch. 04

Chapter Four

As far as I was concerned--sitting there nursing my fifth beer, jizz all over our bodies-- Uncle Tom and I could have agreed to just go bareassed from then on. In my beery state, I even suggested it.

"We won't have to bother with the laundry every week," I grinned over at him.

Uncle Tom remained characteristically quiet, enjoying the afterglow of it all. But I could tell he wasn't keen on the idea. His silences made me stay calmer and more centered.

We listened to the birds--to the late afternoon October wind blowing around the tops of the pines.

"Sometimes clothes are sexier than skin," he finally answered. "--and anyway, I'm really pretty conservative about such things."

It took showering and a very long nap on my bed to make me feel my own familiar shyness again. I woke to a darkened room, smelling Uncle Tom's cooking. My head felt dull, but not achy-- and my mouth felt furry and gravel pit dry.

For a minute or two it was as though nothing at all had changed. Uncle Tom was whistling to the radio, moving dishes around the kitchen. I was in my room, feeling hungry, happy to be cared for. And the memory of our being naked on the porch together felt made-up--not real.

But of course, everything had changed--just how, I wasn't sure.

And I felt shy. I felt unable to walk into the kitchen fully clothed--much less, naked. Uncle Tom's earlier comment to me--hoping it wasn't simply the beer making us horny--made me wonder whether or not that were so.

Suddenly I felt awkward again--very young, and inexplicably guilty.

Maybe he was feeling regretful--wishing it all hadn't happened.

"Hey," I heard a low voice say.

I looked over at the doorway. Uncle Tom's body was silhouetted against the light. I could feel his presence across the room.

"My mouth feels like cotton," I said.

He stood there, looking over at me. "You hungover?"

I elbowed my way up onto the pillows. "Not as bad as expected. For sure, a little woozy. Are you?"

He shook his head. "I slept, too. You want some soup? I made some soup--chicken."

Uncle Tom seems to know when to speak and when to be quiet. His silences are always peaceful--hardly ever uncomfortable.

I dressed and entered the kitchen, no longer so nervous. And soup was what we both seemed to need. I watched him dip his bread into it, a habit he'd picked up from me. I smiled. And he looked up and smiled back. He sopped up his soup, then ate slowly, intentionally.              

Uncle Tom isn't much of a smiler. When he does, it speaks way louder than words. This one was strong and warm. It told me we were okay--that what had happened was fine. It was all cool.

I breathed deeply, feeling better again inside.

His smile made me look at the opened part of his shirt--at all the black curls and the deep divide of his pecs. I looked at his tremendous arms and shoulders--at how he never hunched over his food the way I sometimes did. Uncle Tom was handsome, and shy, and sexy as hell.

He knew I was eyeing him--and he wiped his lips and let his eyes drift over my own muscle-filled shirt.

"It wasn't the beer, you know," I blurted out across the table.

He nodded a little. "I know," he said. "You want some coffee?"

He stood up, his jeans snug around his hips--his plaid flannel shirt neatly tucked-in.

"It'll keep us up," I said.

Uncle Tom brought two mugs over and set one in front of me, then filled it.

My eyes couldn't help staring at the bulge of his fly, feeling the nearness of his crotch.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," he said, pouring one for himself. "We can sleep in." He sat back down.

Thoughts of my sharing his bed brought heat to my cheeks. I stared down at my coffee. Uncle Tom felt my silence and watched me carefully.

"It's new to me, too," he said after a while. "If we didn't have doubts, then I'd worry."

I nodded, then put two sugars in my mug. "Do you hog the sheets?" I asked, trying to joke a little, yet feeling my neck turning pink.

Uncle Tom gave a little smile. "I don't know. We're going to find out."

"Can we be naked?" my heart skipped a beat. I felt my cheeks turn scarlet.

"We can be naked," he answered.

We sipped our coffees, listening to the radio play a fifties song.

It was a song about sixteen reasons to love a guy. Uncle Tom hummed it and got up to open the bread box.

He was right about clothes being sexy. With his plaid shirt and jeans on, he made me keep thinking over what they were covering up. The stripes were bunched together at his waist, and then grew wider apart along his back. My eyes kept going from his round ass up the spreading plaid to his enormous houlders--at the mounded stripes of his biceps.

Every shirt Uncle Tom wore couldn't hide his muscles--in fact, if anything, his clothes lived and breathed muscle. His jeans left nothing hidden. Yet, I knew that like me, Uncle Tom wore whatever was handy.

Between us, we only owned a few shirts and a couple pair of jeans and overalls.

"Have a cookie," he said.

I looked at his forearm--at the size of it, at the masculine hair below the cuffs--at his large hands. I took the cookie.

"We can eat them on the sofa," he nodded towards the front room. "The woodstove's going. Bring your coffee."

My heart was beating fast when I saw him stretched along the couch, his back up against the far arm. When I approached, he just let his big thighs fall open. He watched me with smiling eyes and set his mug on the rug.

My coffee nearly spilling, I knelt on the sofa cushion at his bare feet, then turned my back. His hands secured my hips and guided my butt down against his crotch. Watching my coffee, I carefully leaned back to nestle myself against his wide chest.

The side of Uncle Tom's face was snug above my left ear, his breath washing over my cheekbone. His body was warm, his thighs hugging my waist, his crotch full against my butt.

I was in heaven.

My cock tingled and swelled inside my jeans. I rubbed my bare feet along his calves. I felt wrapped in muscular heat.

Uncle Tom reached down to find his mug and we both sipped our coffees.

"You okay?", he murmured against my curly head.

I nodded, feeling as secure as I've ever been in my life. I could feel his chest rising and falling into my back as he breathed, and I could feel his nipples through his shirt.

I leaned my head into his shoulder. My cheek connected with his unshaven jaw, and I thought I'd die, I was so happy.

"How's your coffee?", he asked, his low voice vibrating against my face.

I nodded again. "It's great," I whispered. "--just super."

He took a sip. "I like holding you."

I nodded. "I like it, too."

Tom carefully slipped his hand under my arm and cupped my left pec. My nipple stiffened at his touch. He played with it through my shirt.

No sooner did he finger my pec than I felt his big cock harden inside his jeans. He squeezed his thighs, pressing his dick against the crack of my butt. My balls gathered and tingled.

We kept chewing our cookies and sipping coffee, our clothes adding to the thrill of snuggling together.

Up till then, the sofa was where we watched T.V.--sitting apart. I ran my hand along the top of his thigh, no longer needing to watch T.V.

Finishing my coffee, listening to Uncle Tom's breathing, I slowly unbuttoned the front of my shirt.

His hand slid inside the opening, fondling my chest, feeling the smoothness, lingering over my nipples. I pressed my face against the strength of his bicep.

"We don't need beer, do we?", Uncle Tom said quietly.

I shook my head against his strong, tanned, leathery neck, smelling his suntanned scent.

"This is all I want," I said.

I loved his exploring hand. And I put down my coffee and used both hands to pull my shirt out from my jeans.

He helped me take it off, then began undoing his own. I sat forward to give him room. A minute later, I lay my bare back against his hairy tits. Uncle Tom rubbed his mammoth chest into my smooth skin. He brought his arms around to flex over my chest. His hands again found my nipples.

I moaned.

"You okay?", he asked into my scalp.

I nodded, overwhelmed. "My cock," I managed to say.

He pushed his against me. "Mine, too," his voice was low and urgent.

I awkwardly fought my jean button open. He relaxed his biceps to give me a chance to try and get them off, which let him then work at opening his own fly.

Jeans aren't easy to get out of, especially with muscular thighs, and I had to get up. We laughed about it as we tugged and yanked, until they were off.

I stood beside the sofa, staring down at Uncle Tom's white Calvins.

They couldn't deal with his turned-on dick. It was too huge, too needy, the thick-lipped head clearly defined by the snow-white cotton.

He was staring up at the tent of my own pouch. His emerald-eyed interest only made it punch-out more. I watched his bicep roll and swell as his hand came upwards. He ran his palm over my white, hot-blooded dick.

It bucked into his hand and my knees turned to jello.

I moaned and put my hand on top of his and pressed. Bolts of feeling raced up its hardness. My ballbag puckered. And then I was shoving my shorts down and freeing my turned-on rod.

We both stared at it--the mushroom head all rosy and huge in the lamplight--my eight-incher standing up straight-as-an-arrow. It pulsed against my stomach. My balls rose and fell under his dark-eyed gaze. My cockhair haloed around my crotch in the soft light. It looked honey-colored and rich and masculine.

Uncle Tom saw me stare past my dick and down between his own legs.

He lifted his hips off the cushion and pulled his Calvins free. Ten inches of wrist-thick meat thwacked his brown abs. Fighting his shorts off his thighs, the giant cockhead flared, the eye looking up at me. His balls fell between his hairy thighs to lay nestled along the cushion. Black cock hair gushed from his deep crotch.

My dick throbbed in little jerks as I stared. Uncle Tom's eyes searched my face. He sat up against the sofa's arm, thighs spread, large cock and balls obscenely presented, fanned by rich black hair. The upthrust prongs of his nipples teased up at me as they fought through his chest fur.

He rested his forearms on his knees and watched me gaze down at his giant-cocked lewdness.

Without speaking, I knew from his face that anything I did would be okay. I could keep on staring, reach down to feel up his tits, or rejoin him between his naked thighs. I saw him trying to look up behind my heavy ballbag into my hidden taint.

Smiling, I turned and showed him, bending over a little. Uncle Tom's eyes glowed. His lips parted, and his cockhead expanded. My inner muscles squeezed my butthole in response. My cock tightened up with it, the head turning mauve. Prickles of sensation erupted all over my body as he stared at my winking pussy.

My teen cock twitching, I climbed onto the sofa and sat between those husky thighs. "Oh God," a near-foot of hot swollen mancock rode up my grooved spine and turned-on nipples kissed my shoulder blades. His furry tits rubbed my skin. His tremendous thighs squeezed my own. Warmth spread over my trembling body as I felt hairy muscle enwrap and envelop me in a male womb of deepening joy.

With his arms resting on my knees, I pressed my cheek against Uncle Tom's full-bodied bicep. He mounded it and I kissed, then licked it. It was huge, tasting like the outdoors, the sun, and the man he was. I couldn't get enough, moaning and biting and slobbering the vein-popping mountain.

My ass pressed against his soft balls and ironbar cock. I felt him kind of shudder.

"Oh, baby, baby," his hot breath on my scalp.

His nearness was too much and not enough. I wanted all of him all at once.

Then I was turning and kneeling, the sofa sagging and swaying.

He and I stared down at our turgid, twitching cocks before I smacked mine against his with our dicks connecting for the very first time.

It was like fire. They swelled and preened like peacocks. Their heads expanded to hard reflecting apricots and dribbled candy all down the sides.

Losing my balance, I fell against him. Being seven inches shorter, my face pushed into his tits. I licked at the hairy swells, my tongue washing Uncle Tom's nipples. Both his hands came down over my bare boy cheeks and his arms pulled me upwards. My hot wet cock slid up his abs. My face found his.

Uncle Tom stared into my eyes, then looked at my mouth. My eyes closed to feel us brush lips. A lusty moan filled my mouth. His masculine breath filled my lungs. Our tongues locked together, our lips exploring, our bodies rubbing.

His fingers slid deeper into my ass--one of them found my clean, winking hole. I moaned. My tongue went wild in his mouth, and he was panting inside me.

We began hunching our hips, driving our cocks up and down our pressed torsos. My hands clamped around his neck. I kissed him hotly, our lips now chewing at chins and jaws, my tongue licking his cheekbones, his whole face, his unshaven jaw.

Uncle Tom's fingers spread my ass and played with my tingling taint, my boy pussy, the rounds of my cheeks. He tumbled my balls around trying to have at my tiny slice. My boyhole threw off sparks at his touches--my cock kept basting his muscles.

We rutted and groaned; my face now planted on his warm thick neck.

I sucked huge welts on his skin. I no longer knew who I was. My slick tits dug against his muscled chest and his biceps bulged across my back.

His finger found my spot again and this time prodded my webbed puckered slit.

I gasped in shock. My head fell forward, and I stared into his eyes. A look of awe filled my face. His finger pushed more, my teen pussy suddenly clamping around it and wild feelings rifled through me.

My hips were thrusting, my body masturbating his, trying to have his finger, trying to fuck his torso. I didn't know what the hell I was doing! My hands found the arm of the sofa and I levered my body upwards.

We both stared down our bodies to watch our sex-needy cocks. They were inflamed and indignant and wet and steamy. Their spread lips stared back at us, demanding release, wanting to explode. My hips plowed cock across his own thick shaft. The heads were kettledrum taut and shiny and purple. My tits speared out at his--tits calling to tits--wanting them, needing them, feeling neglected.

We trembled in our newfound passion.

My hole kept begging for more finger. It felt obscene--painful and beautiful, and made me shake deep inside my body. I brought a hand down between us and tried to grab our hot, ripe fuckpoles. It made Tom buck up into me, his mouth panting. My hand couldn't grip our torched dicks. They were too thick, too slickened. They rubbed and leaked and tangoed.

Mine wouldn't stay put--kept lancing his belly. It felt arrogant, demanding. I was out of control. My knees dug into the cushion and my arms clamped the sofa-back for support.

I rose up, my wet cock hovering between us. Uncle Tom stared, his eyes lusty slits. I fell forward, my cock between his pecs, fucking his hairy crease, the head bumping his rough chin. He grunted against my heaving belly, licking me there.

My hips plowed his tit canyon and my arm came down behind me, my hand digging beneath my bobbing ass to find his swollen, syrup-slick mancock. "I want it," I felt its pulsing, slippery girth.

"No," Uncle Tom said, his eyes surprisingly stern, narrowing.

I rose up into a high, back-arching crouch, my thighs flexing.

"No," he said again, more firmly.

My hand reached behind to lever him upwards, the ripe mushroom head burbbling juice across my segmented boycunt.

"Billy......"

"Uncle Tom, Uncle Tom," I whispered, my voice sounding harsh. "I NEED it. Don't you understand?"

And then I just....

squatted.

Colored dots burst across my eyes before the room went black.

My mouth opened and closed like a caught bass; the pain so raw no sound came out. I felt skewered, impaled, carved in two, a third of it locked inside my flaming bung.

From somewhere far away I heard my name.

A dull, numbing throb took over, making me force myself to breathe deeper than ever in my life.

"Billyboy---Jesus Christ!....."

"I'm FINE!," I stared defiantly through the popping dots.

"What the hell are you trying to....."

I squatted down even further, biting my lip to feel pain somewhere else for a while.

"I want it," I vowed. "And I'm gonna...

fuckin'....

HAVE...IT!"

I felt like a Christmas turkey with mancock stuffing--the thought making me laugh even as tears squeezed out of my eyes.

And still I made it tunnel in--another inch--another--another--another. And then my knees were trembling against my face, my ass now pressed against his thighs.

"Did it!" I grunted, not recognizing my own voice.

Uncle Tom looked all pupil. He looked full of unknown feelings--looking at me like he'd never ever looked at me before. It was a look full of concern and awe and love. He looked at me like we'd both just graduated.

He didn't move a muscle, and neither did I.

I heard logs popping and sparking in the woodstove. I heard the night wind scratching a branch against the window as my slice began to shape itself around his snorting stallion.

"Jesus, Billy...are you...okay?"

I nodded. "You're real hot inside there." I laughed a breathy laugh. "I feel like I'm shitting a sweet potato."

He looked surprised--and then we were both laughing--and then I began raising my butt to slide up the length of it, crazy feelings making my own cock suddenly tingle and begin to swell.

"Uhhhhhhh," Uncle Tom breathed, reaching in to roll my nuts gently around in his palm. His rugged face looked full of wonder, full of hot needy passion.

My clamping pussyhole snagged on the lip of his flared head.

"Billyboy," Uncle Tom said. "My big brave Billyboy." His face was dark, his eyes speaking to me more than his words ever could.

His look excited me, made me want him way up in me--and as I pushed my ass back down, his blunt-nosed helmet hit something that made me nearly shoot! His big cock was pressing some kind of inner buzzer, something I never knew I had or even existed.

"Ohhhhhhhhh--Uncle Tom, Uncle Tom," I closed my eyes, warmth spreading through my body and igniting my balls. My cock shot up like a railroad spike, dripping on his abs. My body trembling, my forehead sweating, my cunt demanding more--more Uncle Tom--more hard cock!

And then I began a fevered hunching--swinging my hips and thighs in rhythmic arcs--drilling down, rising up, riding his ass-plowing fuckpole.

"Uh--uh--uh--uh--uh--UH!" My thighs flexed as I bounced, my boyhole numb and on fire.

Uncle Tom looked lost in space, his huge tits jostling, his abs standing up in ridges. "So hot," he moaned. "Like an oven. Like a fuckin' furnace."

The sofa sagged and swayed, the cushions nearly busting, the floorboards squeaking below it.

Uncle Tom's hands found my pecs, letting them slap his palms, the

nipples all stiff and ripe. His face grimaced with sweet agonies of what was fucking his huge thick meat. "Billy. Billy. Billy!!", he looked anguished, awestricken. "You're...you're gonna make me...."

My cock danced above his hairy chest, his eyes watching it smack my belly and thighs. He looked up to my face, his eyes black and lusty. I couldn't read his warnings, his signals. My mind was full of my own newfound pride and pleasure. I felt wild and heroic--Billy The Kid; Batman's Robin.

"Whoooeee!", I crowed, "Ride 'em cowboy!" And my buttery boypussy basted his blissed-out fuck-muscle. My tight, tight twat syphoned and vacuumed his nerve-shattered ram.

"Oh, Jesus," Uncle Tom said, his eyes closing shut, his full lips parting.

His muscular shaft expanded to twice its size--the humongous thing pulsing with such size and heat, it halted me mid-way-- his whole physique shaking with lust.