Hunter's Lodge on the Osage
by Nicholas Hall
Chapter 8
"The pleasure of love is in loving. We are happier in the passion we feel then in that we arouse" – (Francois Rochefoucauld)
Warm, safe, and loved were only part of the emotions and feelings coursing through my mind when I awoke the next morning. Never, in my short life, have I experienced such happiness, such fulfillment, all from being with and loved by another person; a person who, at the lake the day before, told me he loved me. As Wedge so adroitly put it, "I never thought I'd fall in love with a white boy." Well, the white boy definitely loved the black boy and would do all he could to make his lover happy! If this morning's feelings were any indication, it'd be no great difficulty and the greatest of pleasure to do so.
Wedge, his arms wrapped around me, pulled me closer, his chest against my back, his head resting above mine on the pillow, as he stretched in his wakefulness causing his already stiff shaft to harden and swell; inserting it even deeper into my very willing, very receptive, and somewhat battered anus and lower bowel, until his curly black pubic hairs tickled my butt cheeks and balls. He sighed a deep, contented sigh, tipped his head forward and murmured in my ear, "God, Jeremy, I do love you so!"
Wiggling my butt to better accommodate him and signal I was up for a morning ride, he began that ancient, almost instinctive slow, rhythmic act of sexual intercourse; an act, which if from the past eight hours was any indication, would take a deliciously long time and culminate in both of us spilling our seed- mine on the already stained sheets and his into me, where it would mingle and mix with the several copious deposits he'd made in the past few hours. I concluded his large, fat, brown balls must have to work overtime to produce the volume of semen he breeds me with when he ejaculates!
I was thankful for the purchase and installation of the new washing machine. It was really going to get a workout!
Our return from the lakes and streams tour of the day before ended up at home around dinner time. I need not worry for what we shall eat, since Wedge was adept and talented preparing a meal at the last minute. Dinner was, as always since he moved in, delicious and filling. Dishes done, we sat together, arms around each other, on the porch and in loving embrace, and watched as dusk turned to night and the night sounds of the forest succeeded the chirping birds of the day. The nights, with its distinctly different sounds, smells, and the flickering stars or shining moon, were just as pleasant as the days; perhaps even more enchanting because of what we could not see, but only hear or smell.
Preparing for bed, we both stripped and couldn't help but notice each other's prong (or in his case, fence post) was as stiff as a steel flag pole in the school yard. Before I joined Wedge in bed, I detoured to the bathroom, used two fleet enemas to ensure I was cleaned out, and showered. Wedge heard the shower running and stepped in to join me. Using a washcloth, he gently washed each and every part of my body with special attention to my firm, round, butt, and the treasure hole in the crevice. His cloth covered hand carefully washed that part of me, causing my anal ring to twitch in anticipation, but he made no attempt to enter into that doorway of delight while we showered. Finished, he passed the cloth to me and I painstakingly returned the pleasure of washing him as he did me. Once we both were dried, I followed Wedge to our bedroom, after first retrieving the personal lubrication from the medicine chest.
Our naked bodies intertwined, we touched, kissed, and admired all parts and places of each other. Finally, I rolled over on my back, raised and spread my knees, looked at Wedge and said simply, "Love me!"
He smiled, raised his eyebrows in questioning, saw me nod, and moved to a position between my legs. I reached for the lube, but he held up his hand, stopping me from applying it to my rosebud and his penis.
"I've thought, ever since I saw you naked for the first time and that cute butt of yours, I wanted to try something I've only read about and seen on the internet."
Curious, although pleased he was going to try something absolutely fabulous, I rolled back on my stomach as he instructed, and allowed him to lift me up on my knees, giving him access to my ass. Wedge, using those long, delicate fingers of his, spread my cheeks, leaned forward, and with his tongue probed slowly, delicately down my cleavage until that moist warm instrument hit my hole. I couldn't believe the sensations that raced through my body as he rimmed me! He was able to insert the point of his tongue just inside the anal ring giving me an entirely different erotic feeling than I'd ever had before!
I squealed with delight as he tickled and licked!
My anus now well lubricated with saliva, he rolled me back over, shoved a pillow under my buttocks, raised my legs to his shoulders, and then reached for the lube. He carefully slicked up his cock and my asshole, before preparing me with one, then two, and finally three fingers. Smiling when I nodded I thought I was ready; he leaned forward, gripped his cock with one hand and guided it to my love port. The bulbous head, pink and full with desire, followed by the thick brown shaft of the rest of his penis, was slowly inserted by his hand and a forward action of his hips.
"I'll go slowly," he said lovingly, adding, "I love you so," as he waited for me to become accustomed to his cock. Pushing forward a little bit at a time, he'd wait for me wiggle and relax in order to adjust to his girth and length before pushing forward again. Soon it felt as though he could go no further, but he could and did, when I took a deep breath, exhaled and relaxed some more. He slipped past that barrier and was soon resting his heavy balls on mine!
Watching his expressions as he began the familiar actions of love making, I saw the pleasure I brought to him by giving him my body. It was then I decided my life's mission was to pleasure him, protect him, and love him with the same passion or more than he was giving me! The night was deliciously, erotically romantic; the coupling pledged two lovers, through that act, their commitment to each other, not only in this life, but beyond.
Uncle, true to Lou's promise, plowed a small garden patch for Wedge (with promises to do more next year if he so desired) and began taking him around the area, introducing him as his "nephew." No one seemed to question the authenticity of the claim so it seemed to be working. Wedge happened to mention, while traveling about the countryside with Uncle, he liked to fish but had no license and really didn't want to purchase one for fear of Pittman tracking him down through a state data base. Uncle, after hearing Wedge's concern and love of fishing, arranged for a tribal license to be issued. Again, no seemed to question it!
The end of June, Wedge and I were sitting on the porch cooling off and taking a break after working in the garden, enjoying the cool morning before the sun became too hot, when we heard the sound of a motor vehicle; no, more like an ATV, rumbling down the lane toward the Lodge. Instantly alert and wary, since Uncle never rode an ATV, preferring his horse, we both stood peering up the lane. As the sound came closer, I motioned Wedge into the Lodge, quickly cleaned up our dishes, and sat back down, acting as though I was the only person living there.
I was apprehensive – shit, I was shaking in my boots! Who the hell would be coming down here? Grandpa Hunter was still on his cruise somewhere in the Mediterranean so it had to be someone either seeking me or Wedge or just plain trespassing. Too late, I remembered my pistol was still in the bedroom and now wished I had it handy. We'd grown too complacent and let down our guard! I wish now I'd insisted on Wedge learning to handle a gun. Perhaps, if this amounted to nothing but an errant trespasser, he'd now consent to at least learning how to use a shotgun!
Soon, the ATV, with two riders aboard, rounded the big rock on the hill and rattled down the lane toward the Lodge. Driving the machine was Pat Carlson, one of George and Lou's sons. Snugged in behind him, holding on with both arms wrapped around his waist, peeking over Pat's shoulder was the grinning face of Tom Sutton, the attorney from Grandpa's law firm I'd visited with before coming up to the Lodge!
What the hell was he doing here? Had something terrible happened?
They rolled to a stop in front of the porch, climbed off of the ATV, and grinning and laughing at something, I'm not certain what, waved a greeting. I saw the look Pat gave Tom Sutton; it was the same look I gave Wedge and he returned. Pat and Tom were life partners, lovers, and happy with each other's company! This had to be the son George referred to as being "two spirits." Pat's a good looking guy, not drop-dead gorgeous, but just plain handsome, never-the-less.
"Hi, Jeremy," Pat said in greeting, "long time no see" and extended his hand when he reached the top step of the porch where I met him. Tom stepped forward also and, not saying a word, extended his hand for me to shake as well.
Evidently Pat was going to do the talking concerning their visit since he looked first at me, did a careful, thorough visual survey of the property in the immediate vicinity, checking to see if I was alone. I decided to volunteer nothing until I was asked, but knowing George, he'd already mentioned Wedge's presence.
Sure enough, Pat said casually, "Dad tells me I have a cousin living with you; he at home?"
"Wedge," I said over my shoulder, "it's okay; come on out."
He stepped out of the Lodge doorway onto the porch, cautiously wary of the two strangers standing on the porch steps with me.
"This is Pat Carlson, Uncle's son," I said introducing Pat and Tom, "and Tom Sutton, my attorney."
Wedge continued across the porch, stepped up next to me, and when Pat extended his hand, Wedge quickly shifted an object behind his back and transferred it to his left hand, leaving that hand hidden behind his back before proffering his hand in greeting. "Odd," I thought, so stepped back a bit to see what he was so intent on concealing, other than his cute ass. Wedge left his hand there as he shook Tom Sutton's also.
When I peeked around to see what he was hiding I saw, secured tightly in his left hand, was a slingshot; one of those new, modern types sometimes referred to as a "wrist rocket." I'd never seen one up close, so I sort of reached around and pulled on the rubber tubing that, when stretched, provided the power to propel an object in the pouch, and gave it a "snap" against Wedge's ass! Of course, he jumped, which in turn, caught the attention of Pat and Tom.
"What's behind your back, Wedge?" I asked.
Sheepishly, he moved his left hand and extended it out in front of him. "What's it look like?" he answered.
"A double-barreled shotgun," I quipped. "What were you going to do with it?"
"This," he said confidently, sort of scrunched his face to side, stepped down from the porch, slipped the device on to his left forearm, inserted a steel ball bearing in the leather pouch secured to the "Y" uprights of the slingshot by rubber tubing, and holding the pouch between his thumb and forefinger of his right hand, reefed back on the rubber tubing, pulling it to its limits, and sent that ball bearing whistling toward a pine board leaning up against the garage where his motorcycle and other things were stored about thirty yards away. The missile hit the board with a loud "thwack," penetrating the pine board and expending itself with a softer "thunk" against the side of the garage. If that board would've been a person, that person would be in a world of hurt.
Wedge grinned, Tom and Pat both stood speechless until Tom said quietly and respectfully, "And David slew Goliath with a stone from his sling."
I swallowed, coughed a bit, and thinking nothing better to say, so dumbfounded was I, "Anyone for a cup of tea?"
Wordlessly, with a grinning Wedge bringing up the rear, we trooped into the kitchen/dining room for a cup of tea. Pat and Tom sat at the table, while I put the tea kettle on to boil and Wedge fussed about preparing a plate of cookies and bars to go with the tea. As he did so, he'd look at me every so often, grin, and wink. He was just all giggly on the inside over his little demonstration of his skills with a slingshot. Wedge may have been happy, but I was just damned proud!
Water hot, tea properly steeped, and poured, we sat at the table and enlightened Pat and Tom on why Wedge was here and the circumstances which caused us to hide him away and disguise him as George and Lou's nephew. Tom was quite attentive, asked several questions for clarification, and when Wedge finished, he thought a moment and announced he'd represent Wedge and let his mother know he was safe and being well cared for. In the meantime, he'd make some inquiries, discreetly of course, concerning the investigation being conducted in Illinois.
"I don't know any of them," he said to Wedge, "so I don't know who to trust, but I'll contact Mr. Hunter, Jeremy's grandfather, and see what he would advise. In the meantime, continue with your charade and keep a low profile when not with George or Lou. People automatically identify you with them when you're with them."
Turning to me, "Jeremy, I told your story to Pat when I got home that evening," raising his hand in defense, "yes, I know; lawyers are supposed to keep secrets, but so are people who work for the Brown County DSS. Besides, Tom and I have very few secrets to keep from each other."
I laughed since I now knew the feeling only too well. It's difficult to keep secrets from someone you love and have allowed them the most personal, intimate accesses to your body and you his.
"I contacted Rock County DSS," Pat interjected, "and told them an attorney contacted me with reports of suspected child abuse; visa vie, sex with a minor child. They sent in a team of investigators and a child protection employee, along with the police, and gathered enough evidence to charge both Harvey and Dennis with child abuse and sexual charges for their activities. The good news is Dennis is locked up; the bad news is, Harvey got away!
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
