Shelter from

 the Storm

 Art Michael Kirwan

 Story by Jay Martin



— Originally published in Honcho magazine - December, 1994 —



"Get out of my sight, you worthless cocksucker!" he slurred, weaving back and forth as he stomped across the room towards the liquor cabinet. "I've had about enough of your lip!"


He reached for the bottle of Scotch and knocked it on its side, then watched stupidly as the amber liquid gushed out and cascaded down onto the floor. "Look what you did now, you dumb shit."


"Screw you, you stinking drunk bastard!" I yelled angrily. I tore out of the house in a fury, slamming the door behind me. My dad was three sheets to the wind at ten o'clock on a Saturday morning — again, and I was the focus of his drunken rage — as usual. I wasn't smart enough; I wasn't a football player like my father had been when he was in school; my taste in music sucked; I didn't have a girlfriend — shit, man, I'd been through it all before and knew better than to return home before the jerk passed out. Based on long experience, I knew that meant I couldn’t return before sunset.


I was already halfway to the bus stop before I realized that I'd left my wallet on the bureau in my bedroom. Great! That left me flat broke with a whole day to kill. To make things even more choice, I'd stormed out of the house wearing nothing but a pair of cut-off sweats and a tank top that showed off more than it hid. Not a bad outfit for August — except there were angry purple clouds brewing on the horizon and the temperature was already starting to drop. It wasn't shaping up to be a great day.


While brooding about the sorry state of my life, I flashed on Rod, my best buddy. He lived in a nearby subdivision, about two miles to the west of my place, and he knew all about my troubles with my dad. I could shag my ass over to his place and have somebody to hang out with who wouldn't ask too many painful questions. I knelt down, retied my shoes and started over to Rod's at dead run.


“Morning, Jay,” Rod’s dad boomed, greeting me at the front door. "Out for your morning run?"


"Hi, Mr. Richardson," I panted, wiping the sweat off my forehead. "I was just trying to keep ahead of the rain."


Mr. Richardson stepped out onto the porch and scanned the horizon. "Looks like you just made it, son!'


"Yeah. Is Rod around? I was hoping maybe we could hang out together today."


"Rod and his mother drove over to Evanston early this morning. His grandmother hasn't been feeling too well lately, so they went over to try and cheer her up. They won't be back till tomorrow morning. I'm surprised Rod didn't mention it — hell, he bitched to me all week about it!"


"Oh yeah, right!" I sighed, smiling weakly at Mr. Richardson. "I guess I forgot!' My heart sank as my options for hanging out dwindled from one to zero. I shivered as a cold blast of wind whipped around the corner of the house. It looked like the rain clouds that had been building on the horizon were ready to pop.


"Come on in, Jay," Mr. Richardson offered, taking pity on me and holding the door open wide. "What's the problem, son? You don't seem to be in very good spirits today."


"I had a fight with my dad," I admitted, feeling like a whipped dog. Hell, everyone around knew my father was a drunk, so it wasn't like I was letting out any family secrets or anything. Still, it was humiliating to admit that I'd been run out of the house. "I was sorta hoping that maybe I could hang out around here till things cool off. It's no big deal, though. Honest, Mr. Richardson. I don't want to be any trouble."


"You're welcome to stay as long as you want, son. I'm working on the kitchen plumbing. We've got a slow leak that's going to rot out the whole floor under the sink if I don't get it taken care of."

"I'd be glad to help, Mr. Richardson. I don't know much about plumbing, but I'm pretty good at fetching tools and holding stuff."


"Great! Believe me, I could use an extra pair of hands." Mr. Richardson draped an arm over my shoulders and we walked down the hall to the kitchen. I'd always liked Rod's dad. He was about the same age as my father, but the similarities stopped right there. Dad was fat and out of shape, his pasty skin and trembling hands betraying the fact that he was hooked on the booze. Not Rod's dad. He still seemed to be enjoying his life, even after he was married and had a family. The old T-shirt he was wearing fit him like a second skin, high­lighting his buff torso. The dude had an awesome build — flat gut, thick chest and muscle-knotted arms that looked like they'd split his tanned skin if he flexed. I had this sudden urge to reach out and touch him, but I crammed my hands into my back pockets instead.


I blushed and looked away from Rod's dad. I'd been having disturbing thoughts like these lately. I was eighteen and still a virgin, mostly because I couldn't quite figure out what was up with me. I'd dated some, but put most of my energy into my studies and running track. Hell, I didn't exactly have the kind of home life where I could invite an unsuspecting girl over to meet the folks, so I just basically avoided the issue. I'd had some disturbing wet dreams over the past few months, but I'd put 'em all out of my mind — until Rod's hunk of a father put his arm around me that is. The heat and smell of him and the weight of his muscular arm brought all those thoughts back to mind and made me feel all funny inside.


"This is the mess," Mr. Richardson explained, pointing to the pipes and wrenches strewn all over the kitchen floor. "Help me out and I'll grill you a steak for lunch."


"Thanks, Mr. Richardson. It's a deal!"


"Call me Mike, Jay," he said, smiling warmly. "You're a grown man now and I've known you all your life. It's about time I stopped being just Rod's dad and started being a real person."


"Thanks, Mr . . . thanks, Mike," I stammered. It felt good calling him by his first name, sort of like we were buddies. I stared at him while he surveyed the mess on the floor. All of a sudden, I flashed on Rod bitching to me about how his dad was always swiping his jeans to wear when he worked around the house and getting paint and stuff all over them. If those were Rod's jeans Mike was wearing, he filled them out a hell of a lot better than Rod did. His legs were bigger and his ass was meatier and fuller. He also seemed to have something pretty major in the cock-and-balls department, judging by the fat lump pushing against the faded button-fly crotch.


"Well, let's get to it," Mike said, settling down on the floor and sticking his head and shoulders un­der the sink. I stood beside him, handing him tools out of the box on the drain board. His shirt had hiked up on him, exposing a narrow band of his belly. The guy had these totally awesome ripped abs, and the long hairs that grew in a thin line from his navel to the waist­band of his pants looked like strands of black silk. I'd always wanted belly hair like that, but my blond body didn't seem capable of growing anything except for some wispy fuzz that clustered around the base of my dick.


There was also this rip I spotted, running along the inseam of his left pants leg, right up into his crotch. I could see the furry skin on the inside of his thigh. There was also this fat lump that had to be one of his big balls — little purple veins snaked across the surface and a few long, kinky hairs waved around in the air like antennas. I finally had to look away and try to think about other things because I was starting to get a hard on.


"Jay, I need you to hold the flashlight," Mike said, his voice muffled. "I can't see a damned thing down here?' I knelt beside him and stuck the flashlight under the sink. "More towards the center, buddy," he directed. "Nope, that isn't going to do it. I need it in closer." I tried several times, but nothing was quite working out. "Why don't you just straddle me and try shooting it straight up."


"Sure," I gulped. I knelt over him, knees on either side of his hips, and leaned forward.


The opening under the sink flooded with light and Mike muttered his approval. I was holding the beam steady when I felt something tickling me. Looking down, I realized that my balls had slipped out of the leg hole of my cut-offs and the hairs on Mike's belly were touching them, sending sparks right up my spine. To my horror, I then saw my prick flop out, the head of it hovering about a quarter inch above Mike's navel. If I even started to get hard, I'd quickly be plugged right into that warm, fuzzy, little depression in his rippled gut.


"Hold it steady, guy," Mike snapped when I started to reach down and stuff my prick back in my pants. I obeyed, my heart pounding against my ribs. "Bring it in a little closer now. That's it." When I leaned forward, I lost my balance and flopped down on Mike's sweaty torso like a ton of bricks. The touch of his hot skin was all my cock needed to snap it to throbbing attention. I lay there motionless, totally mortified; afraid to get up and display my ramrod.


"You want to let me up, or is this some new wrestling hold?" Mike chuckled, tapping me on the shoulder. I pushed myself off of him and stuffed my erection back in my pants, trying to hide it. It was impossible — I wasn't wearing enough clothes to even begin to conceal a throbbing hard on. Mike sat up and looked at me curiously. "Is that big sucker just pointing, or is it pointing at me specifically?" he asked softly.


"Yes . . . no! Hell, I mean . . . shit." I blushed scarlet and stood up, ready to make a run for it. Then Mike put a big hand on my thigh and I froze.


"Make up your mind, son. It's fine, either way."


"But . . . but . . . but you're married," I stuttered, not quite sure I was believing what I thought I was hearing.


"Sexual attraction doesn't have all that much to do with gender, son," he said, running a callused fingertip slowly along the inside of my thigh. I groaned when he reached my balls and began fingering my silky bag. Honest to God, it felt like my stomach was on fire all of a sudden.


"You're a very handsome young man, Jay. You've got a hell of a build, too. I couldn't help noticing how you've been looking at me and I also felt that fat cock of yours on my belly just a minute ago." He looked up at me and winked. "Tell you what, guy, you show me yours and I'll show you mine."


"Deal!" I blurted. I was suddenly flooded with a feeling of intense relief, like this dense fog had lifted, making everything perfectly clear. I hooked my thumb into my shorts and pulled them down. My prick snapped up against my belly and Mike's thick finger traced my juice-tube from down by my nuts, all the way up to my knob. Then he scooped up the goo trembling in my piss hole and touched it to his tongue.


"Nice and sweet," he murmured, his eyes getting sort of soft and unfocused. I stood there, hands on hips, while Mike stood up and slowly popped the buttons on his fly. When he hauled his equipment out, my eyes got wide. His balls were enormous, and his uncut dick looked like it was about twice the size of mine. It was a dusky brown color, with heavy veins running along the sides, sort of like the ones that stood out on his forearms.


"Can I touch it?" I gulped.


"You bet you can, son," he replied, his voice hoarse and breathy. I reached out and stroked the velvety foreskin that was bunched up over the end of his knob and he groaned softly.


"That is totally cool," I said, touching his skin again. "I've never seen one before."


"Play with it, son. Go ahead, enjoy it."


I pinched it between my thumb and forefinger and pulled, lifting his fat prick straight out in front of him. While I was doing that, Mike peeled off his shirt and I got a good look at his chest. It was matted with hair that fanned up over his collarbones and swirled around the thick hard points of his tits. A big vein snaked down across his washboard gut, branching out just before it disappeared into the dense tangle of his black pubes.


I kept on tugging his foreskin till his cock started getting hard. It was a real turn on to maul that little sleeve of skin. I even pushed my thumb up inside it and touched the hot, sticky surface of his knob. When Mike grabbed my prick and pressed our snouts together, my knees almost gave way under me. Then he grabbed his cock collar and next thing I knew, my knob disappeared. I watched him as he worked his cock skin up over the first couple of inches of my dick, stretching that hood till his big nuts were riding out on his shaft. Then he squeezed tight and started pumping the skin back and forth.


"Oh, man," I moaned, reaching out to him for support. My hands made contact with his chest and he flexed his pecs, making them feel like warm rocks under my palms. I stroked them, and then trailed my hands down his muscle-slabbed sides to his waist. We rocked back and forth in the center of the kitchen, our cocks still firmly joined. Then there was this explosion of heat in my groin and I was gasping for air. I tried to hold back, but it was too late. My belly muscles started contracting and my forehead smacked against Mike's hard chest.


"Quick on the trigger, aren't we son?" Mike chuckled. I watched as the cum started oozing out around his foreskin and drooling down to the floor.


Shit, I'd blown my cookies and we were just getting started. Now he'd think I was a total geek. "I'm sorry," I muttered, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.


"Hey, I figure that just took the edge off. A man your age should be able to blow a wad every twenty minutes, all day long. Am I right?"


"Yeah, I guess." He didn't seem to care at all that I'd cum so fast. In fact, his dick was getting harder as he smeared my load up over his veiny shaft. So much harder, in fact, that his knob popped out into the open and stayed there, all that extra skin now stretched to the max by his monster erection.


"You got the chance to play with something. Now, how about letting me play, too?"


"Sure, Mike," I panted, still so horny I was cross-eyed. "Anything you want!"


He finished undressing, stripped me naked as well, slipped a big arm around my waist and carried me across the room. He set me down next to the kitchen table, put a hand on my neck and pushed me down till my chest was pressed against the cool Formica. I felt his big, fat hard-on rubbing against my hip, and then he hauled off and smacked my ass hard. I yelped and wiggled around, but his grip on my neck tightened, keeping me pinned. My ass stung like hell, but my cock snapped up against my belly anyway.


"You like that?" he rasped.


"Uh huh," I grunted, reaching back and curling my fingers around the hot shaft of his dick. It flexed against my palm and hot juice dribbled down my wrist. I squeezed his shaft, and then brought my hand back up to my face. His cock juice glistened in my palm, the smell of it curling my toes.

I twisted my head around and looked back at my buddy's dad. He was standing beside me, eyeing my ass hungrily, his prick jutting high in the air. From my viewpoint, his cock looked about a foot long — thick, dangerous, and sexy as hell. He grabbed it with his right hand and started jacking off. His whole body tensed, popping the muscles of his torso out into tight ridges and knots. What a fuckin' hunk! Every time he stroked his cock, his balls would ride up on the shaft, and then crash back down against his hairy thighs with a little slapping sound.


My attention shifted to my asshole when Mike leaned down and began licking my sweaty crack. I damn near jumped off the table, but he grabbed my balls firmly and squeezed, settling me right down. Then he punched his tongue up into me, thrusting it right through my ass-ring and swabbing it around in my tender channel. The sensations that shot through me were incredible, like I'd just stuck my finger in a live electrical outlet.


He worked my butthole over for a while, then reached between my legs and pulled my cock straight back behind me. He crammed my whole dick in his hot mouth and started sucking me off. I howled and bucked, but not because I wanted to get away. No way!


I put my head down on the table and reached back, frantically grabbing at the air. "I wanna suck your hard cock," I gasped. Still keeping my cock in his mouth, Mike shifted around till his crotch was just inches from my face, his dick hovering over the tabletop. He thrust his hips forward and clamped a hand on my neck, pushing my head between his legs. His heavy hog bounced against my lips, then slipped into my mouth. It was hot against my tongue, hard as an iron bar, but feeling somehow cushioned, like it would feel good, no matter what he did to me. I started sucking blissfully. Mike's dribble of dick-honey grew to a steady, hot stream of nutty-tasting goo that warmed my belly and made my balls tingle.


"You gonna let me slip that big hard piece of meat up your sweet little asshole, son?" he grunted, slapping me hard, dead center on my throbbing hole.


"Uh huh," I grunted, tonguing his big bloated knob. Mike thrust a finger up in me and wiggled it around, nudging something that sent a rush of sheer bliss all through me. I raised my body off the table and looked him in the eye. "Please put it in me. Please!"


He stepped around behind me again and I felt his hot, sticky knob bump against my throbbing asshole. He pressed forward and my asscheeks knotted. "Open up, boy!" He slapped my ass with both hands, bringing tears to my eyes. "Lemme in!" He clamped his big hands on my hips and slammed up against me.


"Ooowww!" I bellowed at the top of my lungs, and the table creaked and shook in protest. I felt this sharp stabbing pain and my asshole suddenly got real full. Mike tensed up and neither of us moved.


"You okay, son?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.


"Yes, sir, I'm fine," I gasped. "It's just so big and I've never done this before."


"Relax, son. Loosen up for me." He tickled my balls and I felt a couple of inches slip in through my ass-ring. He slipped his big hands under me and started pinching my tits and my ass just sort of opened up. It was wild, feeling his cock penetrate me like a long, hot spear. I heard Mike groan, then my ass was getting tickled by his pubes. He wrapped his arms around my chest and pulled me back against him.


"Shit, you're tight," he murmured, his rough chin nuzzling my neck. "Do you like having my big hard cock all up in there?" He flexed and I felt something swelling thicker, deep inside.


"Oh, yeah," I groaned, squirming against him. Every time I moved it felt like my whole body was in danger of exploding in a flash of pure pleasure. There was no pain after the first stab when he opened me up, only this incredibly warm, full feeling.


"No!" I squealed when I felt his meat starting to slip away from me.


"Don't worry, son, I'm coming right back," he chuckled, plowing back in deep. The feelings the movement triggered in me were totally wild! He pumped in and out again, his breath hot on my back.


"I'm gonna cum again," I cried out after he'd humped my ass for less than a minute. "It feels too good to hold back."


"That's okay, son. You cum for Daddy." He squeezed my nuts. "These little hummers can churn up enough jizz to keep you firing all day long." He reached up and pinched my tits and I lost it. I squirmed and writhed on the big spike poked up inside of me as I shot thick lines of spunk clear across the top of the kitchen table. Mike bit my neck and ground his hips against my clenched ass.


"Oh, shit, son. It makes Daddy's cock feel real good when you blow like that. Your asshole gets real tight, then your little tunnel of love flutters from one end to the other." He slapped my belly hard, then put a hand on my dripping dick and started jacking it. "You cum again for Daddy, boy. You hear me?"


"Yes, sir," I groaned happily, slamming my ass against him. I reached back and grabbed Mike's hard hairy ass, letting him do all the work while I just stood there, tingling from head to toe. He pumped me hard and fast till I was gasping for air, and then managed to flip me around on my back on the table without ever taking his hard dick out of me.


"Play with Daddy's tits, son," he commanded, slamming into me up to the balls. "I want to cum now. My balls are aching and I just gotta get relief."


I pinched the thick points jutting out of the fur on his chest and he threw back his head and howled. His cock churned deep in my guts, curling my toes. My asshole must've grabbed his cock just the way he wanted because he stopped and looked at me wide-eyed, then slammed into me one final time and fell forward, holding me tight as his prick flexed and lurched inside of me. I felt a blast of heat, then another, and another, as he got his rocks off, shooting the contents of his huge nuts right up my chute. The very thought of it got me so horny that I humped his belly and shot off again.


"Hell, I think I've unleashed a serious sex hog, son," he said, prodding me with his big prick.


"Deal with it . . . Daddy," I re­torted, wrapping my legs around his hips and holding him tight. He laughed, grabbed me by the balls, and we started shaking that old table all over again.



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They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
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