The Biggest Tool

[daddybear54]

THE  BIGGEST  TOOL

 

Chapter 1:   Force of Habit

 

As he felt the rim of the younger guy’s hole snap tight around his cock, he grunted, “Fuck, yeah.”

Slowly he slid his meat deeper in between those lush ass mounds, sinking into the guy’s tunnel. It was a long struggle because his dick wasn’t short, and it wasn’t thin. The slim, young blond man under him was struggling to make room for it. He kept the pressure on steadily until the moment when something gave way and he was finally able to sink himself all the way inside, his hip bones resting against his partner’s glutes. He gave the guy another minute to get used to the intruder in his body, and then roused up, lifting his body into the air on his muscled forearms as he began pumping up and down, pulling his cock out and then driving it back in.

The bottom twisted and moaned, half in pain and half in ecstasy, as the monster cock plunged into him repeatedly. This youngster was trying harder than some of them did. He really was making an effort to work his hole around the top’s dick of death, but it was a losing battle. He was stretched so far that he couldn’t command his ass muscles to work.

The top stud laid himself down along the young blond’s back, tangling his fingers in the longish blond hair and forcing his legs wider apart to give himself more room. In this position, he could pump really hard and fast, building up to a rapid tattoo of loud smacks that roused echoes all through the room.

“Fuck, man – it’s so fucking huge. You’re splitting me in two.

Porn scenes with dialogue like that are a dime a dozen, but in this case it was at least believable. That massive tool looked like it was almost a third the size of the bottom boy’s entire waist. The bottom was experienced, definitely, and had been plowed by a lot of big dicks, but this one took things into another league altogether. This blond guy wasn’t the first, and he wouldn’t be the last, to say that he felt like he’d lost his cherry all over again after getting his cheeks pried open by that massive ass-splitter.

Not that it really mattered. The man plundering his butt was an expert, and he knew exactly how to show his bottoms a good time while getting his own rocks off inside them. Some tops might fake an orgasm from time to time, but this man never did. He was thorough, he was an expert, and he knew exactly how to make his partner cum, as well as making himself cum – and cum on a grand scale. He never let them down

He pulled out then, grabbing the bottom and flipping him over with a snarled, “On your back! Now!” The bottom obediently complied, lifting his legs into the air over his head so that his hole was totally visible to the cameras, the gaping opening mercilessly illuminated by the brilliant lights. His mouth was gaping open too, gasping for air after the pounding he’d already taken, while knowing that the worst was yet to happen.

The top planted his knees further apart so the cameras would get a clear shot as he leaned down and started pushing his way inside that quivering ass-pussy again. Slowly, but with force, he pushed inch after inch of his enormous tool all the way inside the younger guy’s tunnel.

As he resumed his determined fucking, the shadowy figures beyond the reach of the lights watched the scene with a mixture of reactions. The younger ones displayed various degrees of awe – particularly the first-time camera guy whose own cock was out and rock-hard. The reactions ran the gamut from there to the producer, a white-haired veteran of the trade who’d been making porn flicks for nearly half a century. He smiled with satisfaction at the realization that this awesome top man, even after all these years, was the most striking performer he’d ever seen.

The pounding strokes were getting harder and harder now, plunging down more forcefully and ripping upwards more sharply. The stud’s breath came in harsh gasps as he took what he wanted, riding hard and deep in the younger man’s ass and getting ready to breed his hole.

The younger guy groaned and cried aloud as the pounding reached his limit of endurance. But this too the top understood. He closed his eyes and his mind to all else but the sensation of that widely stretched hole grabbing and stroking his man meat. In just a few more strokes, he roared, “Cumming inside you!”

“Fuck, yeah, stud, fill me up!”

He drove in, one last ferocious stroke, and then held it there as his shaft shuddered, convulsed, pumped out one massive squirt of sperm after another. After three shots, he pulled out, sprayed the next three over the bottom’s firm round cheeks and throbbing crotch, and then drove back in to pump the last four or five squirts deep into the asshole. Then the bottom grabbed his own tool, yanking on it fiercely for about twenty seconds until it shot a fountain of cum up onto the straining abs of the man who had just bred him.

At last it was finished. He drew that long, thick shaft up and out, eyeing (not without a touch of smugness) the slow tidal wave of man cream that poured out of the hole and down the bottom’s taint. He used his cock to scoop it up, and then forced it all back inside the younger guy’s gaping ass – cock, cum, and all. Only then did he lean down and close in to exchange a few kisses with the bottom. After a minute he eased out again,

Then, feeling his thighs beginning to strain to hold him steady, he flopped down onto his back, letting his dick fall back down and dribble out the last bits of cum onto his washboard abs. And with that, from the back of the room, a voice called, “That’s a wrap.”

The man who had once been Adrian Pennyfather lay there, slowly catching his breath back, as his partner tentatively lifted himself up and off the bed before heading off to the shower to clean himself and soothe his aching, defeated hole.

“Be with you in a minute, Sven,” he called after the bottom’s retreating bottom.

“Great job – as always!” The producer’s congratulations were heartfelt

“Thanks, Mike.” The words were formulaic. He knew that he had given a good performance; he always did. He understood thoroughly that a big dick didn’t make a porn star. It was at least as much a question of attitude, a professional approach to the job to be done. This he had mastered years ago, and it was his attitude and thorough approach to his work, even more than the size of his cock, which had producers and directors lining up to sign him.

In a few more moments he’d join Sven in the shower room, helping to ease him down from the intensity of the scene and sympathizing with the sore ass which he had stretched so badly.

Right now, though, he was pondering the never-ending mystery of his life. What he didn’t know and just couldn’t ever understand was how the shyest, most timid kid in Exmouth, Nova Scotia, had ended up becoming one of the most famous – make that notorious – and sought-after gay porn top stars of the last twenty years.

And why was it that nobody in the porn industry, nobody in the whole wide fucking crazy gay world, could ever seem to figure out – or even seem to care – what it was, what were the kinds of sexual action, that really turned him on

Even after he and Sven had towelled off and dressed, and Sven had left, he kept sitting there, pondering it all. Was he really at a crossroads in his life, or was this just his usual “kind of down day” that always set in after a shoot ended? He wasn’t sure. Once again, he found himself pondering the idea of quitting. This whole porn thing had become a matter of habit. It was all an established routine: setting a date, laying off sex for several days beforehand (had to save up a huge load for his legendary money shot), meeting his partner, fooling around for a while to find the bottom’s hot buttons, then the showers, the scene shoot, the familiar stages of sex for the cameras, and finally the explosive money shot – the signature trade mark of every one of his scenes. Then, showers again, hug and kiss, and go home… to what?

There it was again. The perennial question he could never solve. What was he going to do, how was he going to live, and above all who was he going to become when he hung up his jockstrap and quit the porn industry, and his porn screen name, for good?

For that matter, who was he? Plain and simple – and he still didn’t really know the answer.

 

 

 

[randyrawman]

intriguing....love your writing style...

[daddybear54]

17 minutes ago, randyrawman said:

intriguing....love your writing style...

@randyrawman thanks!

[daddybear54]

Chapter 2:  The Shy Guy

 

Adrian walked along the twisting shore road, kicking his shoes moodily into the gravel. He was, as usual, alone. Exmouth was a depressing dead-end trap of a village at the best of times, but Adrian had already learned one of the fundamental principles of life near the ocean – that there is no place so depressing that the ocean and a grey, cloudy, windy day can’t make it more so. It didn’t help matters at all that he was, and had always been considered, the Number One Loser in his peer group. All he could think about was how soon he’d be able to get out of this hellhole for good – and how he could make it happen

The village had one main street, twisting and turning and climbing up and down over the rocky hummocks that passed for hills. The houses, all similar in size and shape, sprawled out along the road for the best part of a mile. Occasionally a short side “street” would lead to a couple of houses that had been denied one of the favoured spots facing the main highway.

At the end of the village – well, there was the trick. It didn’t really end. Like so many similar villages along the windswept, rocky shores of Nova Scotia, Exmouth blended seamlessly into its neighbours on either side. And again, like so many similar places, those neighbours were imaginatively named Lower West Exmouth and Upper East Exmouth. It was impossible for any outsider to know, apart from the signs, exactly where Exmouth gave way to Lower West Exmouth or again to Upper East Exmouth, nor why it should be so. Adrian had never understood it either.

At the ripe old age of fifteen, Adrian Pennyfather scuffed his way homeward from the bus stop where the school bus had delivered him from the regional high school, a forty-five minute drive away from Exmouth (on a good weather day) in the largest town in the region, Lawrason’s Harbour. He was thinking about those laughable village names, as it happened, and pondering about how the pointless nature of the names and boundaries of the villages exactly reflected the pointless nature of his life.

Most teenaged boys go through at least occasional fits of feeling like total misfits, although some cover it up better than others. Adrian had started feeling like this sooner, and found that the feelings were lasting much longer, than they were for most of his contemporaries. His feelings guaranteed that he would feel intolerably shy, unable and unwilling to socialize with his peer group. To put it bluntly, he didn’t care about any of the things they ranted on and on about.

Fish, for starters. Exmouth was, like most coastal Nova Scotia villages, a fishing port. Adrian’s dad, Patrick, was one of the village’s more successful fishermen. He had the biggest and fastest boat in town and had been one of the first in the region to equip it with electronic gear to help with hunting schools of haddock. Even more significant, he’d gone in on shares with two other men in the village to buy a second boat, perfectly equipped for the exacting business of placing and harvesting lobster pots. Patrick Pennyfather was a success, just as his father and grandfather had been before him, and he intended to hand the family trade on to his sons.

Alex, four years older than Adrian, was all for that. He loved the sea and just messing about in boats, and he had a natural gift and an innate love for the whole realm of coastal fishing. Adrian hated it. His father, faced with such resistance to an obvious course of action, simply doubled down on the lessons, the pep talks, the stories of successes of the past, and all the rest. Adrian sighed inwardly and pretended to be interested. He did the same with his automatic registration in each successive level of the hockey leagues, where he made a passable but not glorious defenceman – again, in sharp distinction to the scoring records racked up by his older brother at left wing.

Adrian’s mother, Mary (née O’Leary), a Newfoundlander through and through, had her own obsession – the dating life of her sons.

“It would be a grand thing indeed for you lads to settle down here when you’re of age to be living on your own.”

She was a great one for observing tradition, and her idea was that her boys should date and marry local girls and settle down in Exmouth. Alex, as the oldest, would marry first, of course, and would move into the house next door. That house had been the home of the local family which had adopted Mary after she’d been orphaned. The house was currently rented out to “city folks.” Adrian would follow suit in due course and would build a house for himself and his wife on the back forty of his parents’ property. It was the Exmouth way.

Adrian had followed the same plan as he did with his father – cringing inwardly and invisibly, while coolly pretending agreement to his mother’s Grand Plan.

School was just the same. He had to listen to all the other boys talking endlessly about things which were of absolutely no interest to him at all. Things like fish. And hockey. And girls. More precisely, girls’ boobs. And it was exactly there that Adrian found life at its most intolerable.

“Hey, Ade, bet you’d love to slide your tool in between Linda’s boobs and squirt all over them.”

That was almost a daily comment. Here is where fate had played a particularly nasty trick on Adrian. By whatever miracle of the hormones, he had been almost the first boy in his class to move into puberty, and certainly the first one to begin growing and changing in that vital area. As soon as that happened, it became obvious that Adrian Pennyfather’s dick was going to be the biggest thing going. At that, his nickname took on a whole new resonance.

For years, his fellow students had called him “the biggest tool.” It was a time when the word “tool” had become a common slang nickname for a loser, an outsider, an idiot, or just about any other insult you wanted to heap on someone. “He’s such a tool.” It was when he was in Grade 4 that he had first heard someone say it: “Adrian has to be the biggest tool in class.” And it had continued to be his label. He’d dealt with it by keeping to himself, which fitted in with his natural temperament anyway.

Now, things had changed. The words were being spoken in a tone of awe, tinged with respect. Now it was: “Adrian’s got the biggest tool.” He really did, too, and by a respectable margin. And his classmates now showed an endless obsession with the idea of him using it.

“Hey, Ade, bet you’d love to slide your tool in between Linda’s boobs and squirt all over them.”

Every guy in the school was obsessed with Linda Blairbourn’s eye-catching chest. Well, almost every guy. Adrian didn’t give a damn about Linda and her generously-proportioned mammaries. His ideas ran more along the lines of blasting his juice all over the furry, muscular chest of her older brother, Thomas. There were other guys in the village who turned Adrian’s crank, his older brother Alex being one of them, but the girls – especially Linda Big Boobs – left him cold.

Adrian’s sexual fantasies were getting so strong, in fact, that the daily ritual of stripping and showering after PE class was turning into a real torment. He was lucky that his interest was in older guys – the scrawny, pimply fifteen-year-olds around him did not interest him at all. He was lucky, too, that the sheer size of his dick meant that it wouldn’t spring a woody nearly as fast as his peers’ more average meat sticks.

Proof positive: when he was 17, one of the other boys on the hockey team got brave enough to organize a circle jerk, Adrian was actually the last of the group to get fully hard. He spent the next five minutes or so thinking about the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo until one of the others dropped the first load. Then he let himself enter into the spirit of the occasion. When he did cum, it was an impressive blast that shot high into the air before splattering back down over his body. The other guys murmured in awe. None of them had such a huge cock, and none of them could shoot that high. The truth of the matter was that Adrian was thinking about Thomas Blairbourn, and imagining himself sucking Thomas off to climax in his mouth when he blew.

That year was actually a prime year for the senior hockey team. The group had held together for several years in a run with no additions or subtractions, and they not only defeated Lawrason’s Harbour for the district championship, but went all the way to the provincial finals, losing the final seventh-in-series championship game to an elite team from Halifax in a heartbreaking sudden-death overtime period.

All the same, it was a remarkable season, and even Adrian had fired up enough on the ice to feel that he had made a fair and significant contribution to the run for the cup, especially when he was reaching his eighteenth birthday at the same time. His father thought so, too, and decreed that a short family vacation was in order. The result was a four-night long weekend in Boston. His father, frugal as always, had picked a small but clean hotel in the edges of the downtown area. The family had quickly figured out which way to go to the nearest bus stop so they could explore. Adrian, even quicker on the draw, had realized in no time flat that the hotel was just across the street and down half a block from a gay bar which he’d read about.

On the second night, his parents wanted to go out and see the city all lit up by night. Alex wanted to take in a movie at a nearby theater. Adrian, quiet as always, declined any outing and said that he just wanted to stay in – he was still tired, he explained, from the exertions of the hockey season final games.

Once his parents were clear, and Alex was off and away, Adrian sprang into action. He cleaned up as best he could, put on some discreet dark clothes, and headed out the door. He chose a quiet moment to slip across the street, and in another minute he was in the door of the bar. Sliding up to the bar, he fitted himself in between two older guys, caught the bartender’s eye, and asked for a Coke. The bartender looked him up and down, winked, and pushed a glass full of Coke and ice across the bar to him. “Here you go. On the house.” Adrian thanked him, tipped him, and then turned around to study the room.

At once, he could tell that everyone in the room was studying him. Not surprising. Fresh, young meat, and an unfamiliar face. One sure thing, all the older guys were hovering, figuring out a good way to approach an obviously shy newbie. The winner, though, was another young fellow, no more than twenty (Adrian guessed). This red-headed guy slipped over to him, slapped him on the shoulder lightly, and said, “Hi, I’m Calum.”

“Adrian.”

“And you’re from…?”

“Exmouth, Nova Scotia.”

“Anywhere near Halifax?”

“Not really – you gotta use a magnifying glass to find it on the map.”

“Welcome to Baahston. Like it here?”

The rest of the conversation followed along predictable lines. After barely a minute, Calum realized  that he was dealing with an utter novice, shy as hell to boot, and knew that he’d have to do his best to educate the new kid.

“Come on, Adrian. Let me show you the rest of the place.”

They put down their glasses, and Calum led the way through the door at the back of the room. As they walked through the dark maze of the building, dimly lit with red and blue lights, Adrian caught glimpses of men – half-naked or naked, making out, jacking, rubbing….

“Oh, my God – is that guy actually…?”

“It’s called rimming. Feels awesome! Want me to show you?”

“Here?”

“Why not?”

Just like that, Calum spun Adrian around and pressed him against the wall in a bend of the corridor. There was still room for other guys to get by. He reached around, released the button, and pulled his jeans down. Then he tugged at the waistband of Adrian’s boxers, pulling them down to expose the younger boy’s sweet young ass. Calum spread his cheeks apart, sniffed deeply, and then buried his face deep into Adrian’s crack and began feasting on his hole.

Adrian was feeling totally mind-blown. He’d never imagined anything like this ever happening. None of his unimaginative friends could either. All that these village boys could imagine a man ever doing with another man was cocksucking or cornholing. Calum was taking all of Adrian’s fantasy life and blowing the limits wide open, as his talented tongue and lips showed Adrian whole new worlds of male-male sexual interaction, stirring up feelings the fisherman’s son could never have imagined. Adrian moaned loudly, again and again, and then realized that they were attracting an audience. He didn’t mind. The wanton nature of what they were doing, the cascade of wild new sensations Calum was giving him, the attention from the onlookers….

“Shit! Look at that kid’s cock!”

For once, Adrian didn’t mind his cock being noticed. He hadn’t realized until that moment that he had actually sprung the biggest, hardest woody of his young life. The things Calum was doing to him had given him the wildest turn-on he’d ever felt. Just as he thought that, his education took another massive leap forward. One of the guys watching dropped to his knees and leaned in to begin sucking Adrian’s cock.

If he’d thought he was mind-blown before, this new sensation dragged him clear off the face of the earth. He’d never even come close to guessing what a hot mouth on his cock would feel like. The guy giving him his first blowjob was an expert sucker, but even so he could barely get half of that massive shaft inside his face.

But then Calum broke in. He stood up, leaned closer to Adrian, and said, “Pull up your clothes and come with me.”

Adrian broke away from the virtuoso cocksucker with some reluctance and followed Calum along the hall. Behind him he heard a voice saying, “Damn, that dick was fucking gigantic – I couldn’t even come close to deep-throating him.” 

Calum led him up a flight of stairs, chose an open door and dived in, pulling Adrian after him, and then closed and locked the door. The tiny room they were in had a single bed, and a small shelf with condoms and lube on it.

“Damn, that was hot!” Adrian’s mind was still spinning from everything that had happened.

“Sorry to break your fun, but I wanted to take this to the next level.” With that, Calum moved closer and pressed his lips to Adrian’s – and Adrian was experiencing his first man to man kiss. He got right into it, his hard-on throbbing in the half-opened front of his jeans as Calum taught him more and more.

Calum had his hand fastened onto Adrian’s bulging boxers and was busily squeezing and rubbing Adrian’s giant handful as they made out. Now, he went gracefully down onto his knees and opened up the jeans, pulling down the shorts, wanting to suck this massive meat for himself. Calum wasn’t a bit more successful at taking it all than the older man downstairs, but judging by the moans pouring from Adrian’s mouth, this was not a problem.

Suddenly, Adrian gave a small yelp of surprise and pleasure as Calum’s finger, wetted with spit, slid into his hole. He’d played with his ass himself, of course, but someone else’s finger in there took the game to a whole new level. Calum kept working him with finger (in back) and throat (in front) and Adrian’s moans got louder and more frequent.

Calum stood up again, turned Adrian around and pushed him down onto the bed on all fours. He seized Adrian’s shoes and pulled them off, then followed with his jeans and boxers. Then he dived back into Adrian’s crack again, this time using finger and tongue together. When his probing, questing finger at last found Adrian’s magic button, Adrian cried out, “I can’t stop it – I’m going to shoot!”

Calum quickly dived between his legs, rolling onto his back so he could get the quivering, jumping cock into his mouth. As soon as his lips closed around the head, Adrian exploded. The first spurt nearly filled Calum’s entire mouth. He gulped and swallowed, again, again, a fourth time, and still the sperm kept pulsing out. While he was sucking, he’d grabbed his own tool, given it three or four quick yanks, and exploded onto his own abs before dripping down onto the floor. Finally, he had to surrender and pull away, letting Adrian’s quivering tool fire out the last three or four squirts and then the drizzling aftermath onto his face.

Calum pulled up and sat on the bed, then patted the sheet beside him as an invitation to Adrian to sit with him. Adrian leaned back against the wall, a dazed, all-gone smile on his face.

“Damn, man, do you always shoot a gallon of cum like that?”

“I don’t know. In case you hadn’t guessed, this is my first time with another guy.”

“With that dick, and that kind of cumshot, you’re going to have the guys fighting over you wherever you go,” Calum said in an awed, respectful tone. Adrian laughed. The idea of being popular, in demand, wanted, needed, was so foreign to him that he had to laugh away his bafflement. But then Calum went on. “I’d love to have another round. I just don’t think I could take that dick of death in my hole. I’ve only ever been fucked a few times, and never by anything close to that huge.”

“Do you want to fuck me?”

“You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking? It felt so incredible when you were rimming me and then had your finger inside me. I want to feel it all.”

“So you’ve never been fucked.”

“No. I told you, this is my first time.”

“If you’re sure. I’ll be gentle. But it’s going to hurt.”

“I don’t care. I want you to do me.”

“Okay, then. Lie on your face.”

Adrian did as he was told, and Calum went right to town on his hole again, using tongue and fingers – more than one finger now – to loosen his tight, virgin ass. Adrian continued moaning his pleasure as Calum worked him over.

“Okay, I think you’re ready. Time to change places.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” Adrian got up, and Calum laid down on his back on the bed, his seven-inch cock standing up out of its nest of red hair. “Just plant your hole on it and sit down – at your own speed.”

Adrian proceeded to do that. He straddled Calum, then placed the tip of Calum’s erection against his never-fucked ass pussy. And then he began to push. The pain made him cry out.

Calum said, “Grab the lube – up there.”

Adrian seized the small tube from the shelf, opened it, and smeared it over Calum’s dick and onto his own hole. Then he tried again, wincing at the pressure. After a few seconds, though, something gave way and, with one more searing flash of pain, Calum’s head was lodged inside Adrian’s body.

“Oh my god!” Adrian cried out at the pain, but then he bit his tongue and pushed harder. This was what he wanted, a man’s cock inside his body, inside his ass, filling and stretching him.

“Just hang on. Breathe deep breaths.”

Good advice. Adrian took it. The waves of pain finally ebbed away until he could feel all the sensation of cock in his hole.

“Fuck, that’s amazing.”

“Okay, hold still,”

With that, Calum began gently pushing up and then pulling down, and Adrian realized he was at last being fucked – and it felt incredible. As Calum’s tool pumped in and out of him, his own cock had filled up and was rock hard again, jumping up and down with each stroke.

“Fuck, man, we gotta stop.”

“Why, Calum?”

“We forgot to use rubbers. And I’m about to cum.”

“Fuck that. Keep going and give it to me. I want to feel your cum shooting inside me.”

‘If you’re sure….”

“Quit talking and fucking fill me up!”

Calum resumed pumping and after a few more thrusts he shot. And Adrian felt, for the first time, the sensation of his ass slowly turning wet as the cum spread around the head of Calum’s dick inside him. It was awesome – the most incredible sensation of this whole amazing night.

Calum pushed him slowly upwards until his cock popped out, followed by a stream of cum as Adrian struggled to close up his newly-plundered man hole. He flopped down on the bed beside Calum, and then realized belatedly that he needed to cum again himself. He grasped his huge tool and began sliding his hand, but Calum stopped him.

“Fuck, I don’t care how much it hurts. I want to get that thing inside me, and I want to get your  load as well. Fair exchange!”

He grabbed another tube of lube off the shelf, spread it around and into his hole, and then used his hand to grease up Adrian’s massive tool. Then he straddled Adrian, facing him, and proceeded to push that enormous log into his ass.

Adrian stared in awe as the struggle was written all over Calum’s contorted features. His face turned red as he hissed and gasped for breath, but he was going to get that huge thing inside him no matter what.

In another moment, Calum’s hole surrendered to the inevitable and Adrian racked up another in the day’s list of astonishing firsts – the sensation of feeling his cock inside another man’s ass. But he didn’t have long to enjoy it. Calum had only enough time to make the first two or three tentative movements on Adrian’s enormous shaft before that powerhouse dick convulsed and exploded into his straining hole. Once again, Adrian fired out an enormous quantity of seed in a series of powerful shots. Calum, meanwhile, was beating his cock like a madman and sprayed out a load all over Adrian’s face as Adrian finished cumming inside him.

After they’d both calmed down, Calum led the way to the showers, and the two of them took turns washing and caressing each other, with Calum swatting away a couple of older guys who were getting a bit too pushy. Then he led Adrian back to the room where they could pull their clothes back on before leaving.

Outside in the street, Adrian thanked Calum for an incredible evening.

Calum winked, and said, “I think we’re both going to be sore for a week. With a dick like that, you ought to be in pictures.”

Calum leaned in and the two of them kissed goodnight before going their separate ways.

Across the street, Adrian’s brother Alex watched the two of them kissing under the sign of a well-known gay bar. Mentally, he was congratulating his kid brother. He wished he’d had the nerve to go in there too.

 

 

[Bicycledude]

A fantastic story for me. My maternal grandmother came from Advocate Harbour, Nova Scotia.  She was living with us in what was then the small town of Tracy in the Central Valley of California. She'd recognized that I was different than my three brothers and she became my protector.

Her family had been tories in Massachusetts at the time of the revolution and were granted property in Nova Scotia as a refuge when they fled their home. 
Please forgive my intrusion into your amazing and incredibly erotic story, but it resonates with me on so many levels.

Willis E. “Woody” Higgins
Portland Maine 

[PG1961Canada]

On 6/13/2024 at 9:03 PM, daddybear54 said:

THE  BIGGEST  TOOL

 

Chapter 1:   Force of Habit

 

 

For that matter, who was he? Plain and simple – and he still didn’t really know the answer.

 

Always happy to see a story from daddybear54!!  Excellent!!!

 

 

[daddybear54]

5 hours ago, Bicycledude said:

A fantastic story for me. My maternal grandmother came from Advocate Harbour, Nova Scotia.  She was living with us in what was then the small town of Tracy in the Central Valley of California. She'd recognized that I was different than my three brothers and she became my protector.

Her family had been tories in Massachusetts at the time of the revolution and were granted property in Nova Scotia as a refuge when they fled their home. 
Please forgive my intrusion into your amazing and incredibly erotic story, but it resonates with me on so many levels.

Willis E. “Woody” Higgins
Portland Maine 

Thank you for your lovely message -- no apology needed! I have no family ties in Nova Scotia myself, but I love to go there -- and when I do, I feel very much "at home" in a strange way. Thanks for sharing your response to this story!