Tales of the Cabin – Part 6

[Author Note: See the bottom of this post for other Wednesday Briefs authors posting free flash fiction this week.  We all appreciate your reading our work and supporting us! – Johayan]

Andy’s boyish face and defiant attitude were enough to kick my ‘daddy’ instincts into gear. I had barely gotten around the counter when Andy smirked at me again.

“What are you going to do Mr. Ramhart?  You going to punish me for being bad?” he sneered as he pushed another grocery bin off the counter.

Before he could realize what was going on, I had grabbed him and bent him over the counter.

“Oh, you will be punished.  Sometimes, the punishment is a pleasure to the punisher.” I growled as I reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a flat wooden spatula.

A resounding smack filled the kitchen as Andy let out a yelp.

“That hurt!” Andy whined.

“Good. Maybe you’ll learn to be a good boy for daddy.”  THWACK!

“Daddy!” Andy exclaimed, “Stop!”

“Andy, are you going to be a good boy?” I asked quietly.

“Yes Sir. I’m sorry Sir.” Andy said pleading with his voice that I wouldn’t smack him again.

“I’ll let you off easy this time.” I said, then with no warning, I let my rock-hard cock graze his smooth ass crack. Andy let out a moan and pushed his ass back so that my head was slipping between the round cheeks of his bubble butt.

I grabbed the bottle of Colavita olive oil off the counter behind me and poured a small amount into Andy’s crack.  I felt the heavy cool oil flowing around my head which led me to adjusting my cock to tease Andy’s now pulsing hole.

What I didn’t expect was for Andy to push back and his hot willing ass to take all of my cock at once. It was as if his hole had pulled me in and made a meal of me.

Before long, we were lost in sweaty ecstasy up against my kitchen counter.  Lost in the moment, I heard the occasional cracking of the counter but didn’t think much of it considering the rough ride I was giving Andy.  Andy didn’t seem to notice either as he was grunting loud enough that it was covering up some of the noises the house was making.

I had just gotten into my rhythm, lost in the bliss, when I heard Andy scream out “Oh yeah daddy!” which just encouraged me to keep going harder and deeper as Andy grew tighter around me.  I kept pounding Andy hard, feeling his grip slowly loosen and I felt something cold and sticky hit my foot.

I looked down and saw that Andy had blown his load all over the cabinet and it was dripping down onto the floor and my foot.  Part of me was thinking of how to punish him and the other part of me was congratulating myself on giving it to the boy so well. I hadn’t blown my load yet and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna pass up a chance to tag a hot ass like Andy’s.

By this time, I was only really thinking about one thing, getting the boy filled up with me.  I pulled out all the stops and rode him like a bronco buck at a rodeo. Riding hard, I could feel my orgasm building up in my balls, and was suddenly driven on by the warm splat of Andy blowing another load on my foot.

Wow, I can see why Aaron has been with him for so long.

“You ready Andy, I’m gonna give you what you been wantin’” I panted.

“Yes, daddy, give it to me.  I’ve been bad and I don’t deserve it.” Andy growled between pants.

I got up on the balls of my feet and starting a final pounding of his now worn out hole. I felt that inner convulsion that told me that I was about to go over the edge.

Unbeknownst to either of us, Aaron had come in checking to see if Andy was at my place since the grocery run wasn’t done.  Seeing us in flagrante and the grocery bins on the floor; he found Andy, just not how he expected to find him.

I gave Andy a couple of quick hard thrusts and held the last one deep inside him as my balls drained deep inside him.  I suddenly got the sensation of falling and as I looked up, I saw Aaron standing there watching us, dick hard in his hand.

That was the moment that Andy and I fell over as the cabinet had had enough of our roughhousing and collapsed under us.  Aaron ran over to help us up and to make sure Andy was okay.

“Andy, you okay?” Aaron asked with obvious concern.

“Yeah, I’m…oh fuck. Hi big brother.” Andy said meekly.

“You aren’t in trouble Andy. I’m more worried that you aren’t cut up from the cabinet.” Aaron said as he helped Andy to his feet.

“As for you Vince…we’ll talk later.” Aaron said with a tone I couldn’t quite comprehend.


Cia Nordwell

J Alan Veerkamp

Nephy Hart

Sarah Hayes

Julie Lynn Hayes

Tales of the Cabin – Part 2

I’d gotten lucky in that the state had passed a change in the rules regarding the MegaLotto at the beginning of the year.  Winners could choose blanket anonymity upon winning a jackpot over a million dollars.

I was kicked back with my feet on coffee table daydreaming of job.  I’d taken the day off with a stomach bug.  I wasn’t going to give my notice until I had the money in my account and had a good slab of it set aside for my retirement.  I had already notified the state of my winning ticket and gone through all of the paperwork to validate that I did indeed have the winning ticket.

Debating between lunch and watching another movie on WebFlicks, I was interrupted by a firm and insistent knocking on the door to my apartment.

I stood up, made sure I was dressed enough to be polite, and made my way over to the door.  A second round of knocking greeted me as I got to the door. Looking out the peephole, I saw our building manager Jessica with a State Trooper and a very smartly dressed woman standing on either side of her.

I swallowed hard and opened the door, my voice was not what I expected it to be as I squeaked out a “Hello.”

It was the building manager who spoke first.

“Mr. Vince Ramhart?” she asked stiffly.

“Yes.” I answered as stiffly.

“Vince, they have asked to be escorted to your apartment.  They have asked that I sign paperwork as a witness.”

I couldn’t control the sudden upward arch of my eyebrows.

“Mr. Ramhart. I’m State Patrol Director Michael Boyd.  May we step into your home?”

“Certainly.” I said as a I stepped aside. “Please, come into the living room and make yourself comfortable.”

“We won’t be here long Mr. Ramhart.  Do you have positive photo identification?”

“I do.” I said as I noticed as small bead of sweat rolling down my low back and I disappeared to my bedroom.

I came back out carrying a small firesafe box. I opened it and brought out my Social Security card, passport, certified birth certificate and the notarized copy of my lease.

“May I examine these?” Director Boyd asked dryly.

“You may.” I said with a slight smile.  Our building manager was still struggling to figure out what was doing on with the whole situation.  It had taken me a few minutes but I realized the other person with Director Boyd was the state Lottery Director Jane Rohr.

They both looked over the documents from the safe in excruciating detail.  Once both were satisfied, the other person smiled.

“Mr. Ramhart,” the other person started as she lifted her briefcase onto the coffee table. “You know who I am.” She said continuing to open the briefcase which seemed to have four different locks.

As the briefcase popped open, she reached in and removed a tamper-proof sealed envelope.

“This is yours now Mr. Ramhart.  If you need anything, please feel free to contact your advisor.” She said with a small smile as she removed a 2nd envelope from the briefcase.

“Mr. Ramhart, if you could sign certifying that you have received the document.” she cooed while pointing to a signature line with my name below it.

I picked up the proffered pen and realized that the attestation did list who she was.  ‘No keeping it from the building manager now’ I thought to myself as I signed the sheet.

Director Boyd signed, quickly followed by the Lottery Director.  As the sheet was slid over to the building manager, she couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer.

“What is it that I’m signing for exactly?” she asked suspiciously.

“You are a witness that the envelope that is now in Mr Ramhart’s possession is indeed in his possession.” Director Boyd answered dryly.

He’s a lot of fun at parties I bet. I thought to myself with a small giggle.

She looked down at the sheet and looked over the signature lines and as she read the title of the Lottery Director, her eyes got bigger.

“Oh!” she said with a smile and scrawled her signature on the form.

Director Boyd and Director Rohr stood up, “Mr. Ramhart, unless you have any questions, I believe our work here is done.”

“Indeed.” was the one word response from Director Rohr.

“Actually, I do have a question. Would it be possible for me to get a ride from Director Boyd?” I hoped I could.  The 8×11 envelope in my hand was shaking slightly.

“We aren’t supposed to do so, but I can certainly escort you to your destination.”

“Thank you sir.” I said with a relieved smile.

Director Boyd turned to Jessica, “Thank you for accompanying us today. If you could leave us with Mr. Ramhart for a few moments.”

“Well, uh, yes. Certainly.” She sputtered as she stood up, smoothed her skirt, and before anyone could realize she was gone, the door shut behind her.

“Mr. Ramhart, I’m assuming you wish to be escorted to your bank?”

“I do. I won’t stop shaking until …this is in the bank.”

A quick thirty minutes later, I had deposited the largest check of my life. I quickly paid off my car, student loans, and a couple of small loans.

“Thank you Director Boyd.” I said with a smile.

I returned home and stopped in the building office on my way up.  I wrote out a check for the rest of my lease.  I was keeping the apartment as it would take time for my plans to be realized.


Other Wednesday Briefs Authors posting this week:

Cia Nordwell

J Alan Veerkamp

Carol Pedroso

Julie
Lynn Hayes

Tales of The Cabin – Part 1

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It was another mindless day in the cube farm. At most other companies, I’d have an office.  Not a corner suite, but an office none the less.  As I looked at my schedule for the rest of the week, all I saw was meeting after meeting.  I was glad I was going on vacation in a couple of weeks.

While I enjoy my job, it’s not the most intellectually stimulating job.  The only excitement was the breaking news that someone had purchased a winning lottery ticket at the convenience store in the lobby.

I normally buy five tickets, one for each work day. For some reason, I’d only gotten one this week.  Folded away in my wallet, it was the weekly representation of my dreams, was my escape from the cube farm.

By the end of the day, I was sick of hearing about the winning lottery ticket that had been sold.  One person had won 77 million dollars.  If they took the lump-sum total, it was a check for 41 million after taxes.

As I sat on the train home, I leaned my head back and let my mind wander.  Before long, I was hiking in the woods, a faint trail visible only to those who lived in those woods.  Hiking through the woods, I came into a clearing with a log cabin home.  My home.  I had the plans all sketched out, the costs planned for, and utilities handled.

My dream was 160 acres, a square mile, up north in the woods.  A small lake would be nice but that was a preference not a must have for the land. 10 acres would be next to the road, filled out with a solar farm, water wells and storage, and the other infrastructure necessities.  In my mind, we would be almost entirely self-sufficient except for groceries.

I leaned my head over rested it on the window.  I still had another 45 minutes to sit and stare at nothing.  I didn’t like living in the city, so I was stuck with an hour-long light rail commute each day.  As I stared out the window and watched the warehouse district roll by, I thought about what I’d do if I had my land.

My work life and my personal life were polar opposites.  Work saw me as a straight-laced, professionally dressed cube worker.  I did my job, did it well, and kept my head down. It’s the easiest way to work your way up.  If you make waves, people remember who you are and that’s not how you want to be known.  You want to be the ‘quiet’ one who works hard and gets work done on-time and under-budget.

My personal life…

I’m a neo-pagan, bisexual, sexually liberated nudist.  Not an exhibitionist, I don’t care for an audience, but I hate clothes.  The first thing I do when I get home from work is take off all my clothes and breathe a sigh of relief.

Every three months, I go camping.  I pack up my gear into my late model Saturn that has lasted me for 20 years with good maintenance and will probably outlive my ability to easily get parts.  Once up north, I have a couple of places I know. I park the car near the trailheads and hike out a couple of miles.  A nice quiet campsite by a small river and I’m in heaven.  Pitch the tent, ditch the clothes, and just lay back in the hammock.

It was a sudden jerk stop of the train that threw me out of my seat and into the seat in front of me.

What the hell?!

It took a few moments for me to realize that either the train had hit something or had derailed.  There wasn’t a list to the rail car but it seemed prudent to get off the train.  I quickly grabbed my bag and stood up just as the Transit Police boarded the train. It was an orderly evacuation with everyone getting a quick medical check for any injuries.

I was fine aside from being rattled.  I quickly figured out where I was and realized it was only a few blocks away from my usual stop.

I’ll just hoof it from here. It’ll be nothing compared to my hikes.

Before long, I was home, naked, and laying on the couch. It wasn’t until after I had made dinner that the reality of what had happened earlier in the day hit me.

I pulled up one of the TV stations websites and saw that someone had waited for an express train and then pulled their sub-compact out in front of it.  Suicide by train is what they called it.  I saw the security footage from the Transit Police as the person pulled their car in front of the train and then made the sign of the cross just before the train smashed the car into bits. Mercifully, the footage had been stopped just before the train plowed into the car.

I realized that I need to get out of the city and away from the rat race.  I had enough in my retirement accounts to live comfortably once I hit sixty, but at 38, I wasn’t in a position to do it.

As I turned back to the computer, I saw the story about the winning lottery ticket.  I pulled my wallet out of my pants and checked the numbers.

5 – 11 – 17 – 25 – 38 – 42…

My heart was in my throat.  Could it be?  I checked the bonus number.

7…

It took everything for me not to go running through the condo screaming for joy. There would be a difficult few weeks until I got the payout, but I was on my way to being a multi-millionaire.


Other Wednesday Briefs authors posting this week:

Cia Nordwell

J Alan Veerkamp

Michael Mandrake

Julie
Lynn Hayes

The Debaucher’s Diary – Entry #1

[Author Note: This series is more explicit and features scenes and language that some readers may find offensive. If the title wasn’t enough, this series is completely NSFW! – Johayan]

 

4 January

‘Kenny’ hit me up on an on-line hookup site.  Interesting profile, straight guy on the down low looking to hook up.  A quick online chat and it was obvious he was ready to go NOW.

Once I had the address, I punched it into my phone and saw it was in a trailer park.  Not too surprising given the profile.

30 minutes of traffic and road construction later, I was pulling up to a rather dilapidated trailer with a front “deck” that looked like a tornado had arranged some pallets and spare boards.  It was sturdier than it looked but it still didn’t make me feel any better about the hap-hazard construction.

Quick message on the hookup site and he was opening the door.

I paused for a moment and took him in.

I wasn’t expected a somewhat tattooed short construction worker type black guy.  What I really wasn’t expecting was just how hot he was…and for a brief moment, I felt a flutter in my stomach.

What the…that ain’t our game! 

I stepped in to the trailer and was greeted by a screaming bird, a small kickable dog in need of a barber, and an aloof cat that just sat and stared at me.

I just finished my mental tally of the scene when I saw him drop his shorts.

A girthy five to six inches soft and a pair of balls that could have passed for a pair of kiwi. He gave his cock a tug and then squeezed his balls.  I didn’t have to think twice as my own clothing hit the floor.

He fell back on the couch and I walked over and dropped to my knees.  I need it, I need his load in me.

Now, having thought that, I realized I was in the thrall of the guy in front of me. I didn’t even bother with trying to start slow.  I deep throated him from the start and started milking his head with my throat.  Hearing a thick breathy “Oh my god, fuck yes!” was music to my ears and I slid my tongue under his balls and started licking while I continued milking his head.  A couple of minutes later, I looked up at him with my best “come fuck me eyes” and saw that he was staring at me wide eyed with a huge smile on his face.

Without missing a beat, he stood up and grabbed the sides of my head and started to skullfuck me like a pro. He had just the right rhythm that let me take all of him and yet still keep a normal breathing pattern.

I grabbed his meaty ass and realized that it was a soft full bubble butt.  I thought it was more muscular but was wrong.  I pulled him even closer to me burying my face in his pubes and eliciting another moan and then a grunt as he suddenly pulled out and sat back down.

“Bro, I can’t keep that up, I was just about to cum.”

I smiled, “for the first time. My hole is hungry too.”

“If your hole is anything like your mouth…” he said lustily as I dropped to all fours and present my ass for his inspection. A quick finger along my crack set me quivering.  He slipped the finger in and I clenched down on it

“You gonna be able to take my log brah?”

“Yeah, and the load with it too.  You just gonna talk about it or you gonna do it?”

As he spit on his cock and drove it home, I realized that I probably shouldn’t have taunted him quite that hard.  He was buried balls deep in my ass before I could say “slow.”  A quick grab on my hips and he was riding me like a cowboy on a horse, fluid motion and no hesitation to ride hard.

I’d just gotten into his rhythm and could feel a massive load brewing up in my balls. I knew if he didn’t stop soon, I was gonna spray a load all over the living room carpet. As if he knew I close, he suddenly stopped.

He pulled out and spun me around and shoved his cock back in my mouth.

“Can’t have you getting off before I do.” he sneered.

By this point, I was higher than the clouds on a wave of unbridled lust.

“You want something to drink?” was the question as he glared down at me.

I gave a small nod and continued sucking his cock.  There was a brief pause as he stopped drilling the back of my mouth then a sudden hot wave hit me.

Oh fuck…was all I had time to think as I started guzzling down his piss. Given the evil look on his face, I didn’t want to find out what would happen if I didn’t drink it all down.

I felt my belly filling up with his piss, a warm contented feeling as he slowed then stopped.  He was still fully erect and still raring to go.

He threw me down on the floor with my ass up and drove back into me.

“You’re a good little bitch! I’m gonna enjoy this.” he growled as he started pounding me even harder than before.  I could feel and hear my full stomach sloshing around. He reached under and slapped my bloated belly. “Good to know you can take it all.”

I wasn’t sure how much more I could take but it was right then that he grabbed my hips and drove himself as far in as he could get and I felt hot cum covering my prostate and filling my ass.

Judging by how long he was pulsing in my ass, I wasn’t sure if I’d able to hold it all in…or even hold it in after this.

He pulled out, threw my clothes at me. “Get out you fucking faggot. I’m done with you.”


Other Wednesday Briefs Authors posting this week:

Byron Kendall – Part 4

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As I turned back to Mom, I heard the sound of what sounded like claws being dragged through the Earth over and over again.  Mom was still smiling from ear to ear, but Dad had a more concerned look on his face.

I heard Uncle Jeff calmly say to me, “Byron, turn around and shift into glabro.” The authority in his voice told me to do it.  As I turned around, I shifted up to glabro and then it hit me.  I only saw a quick glint in the red light of the setting sun but I felt the fire rip through my skin.

I looked down and saw claw marks across my left pec, just like Mom had.  I let a primal scream that was from the pride of knowing that I had succeeded and also from the excruciating pain from the claw marks on my chest.

I heard Mom’s voice but she seemed so distant for standing no more than five feet away from me.

“Those wounds will not heal like normal wounds.  Silver will leave you scarred.  You are now marked as a member of our clan.”

“Mom, is this why I have very few friends?”

“Yes, son, it is.  It’s the Curse.  Most people can sense the wolf inside you.  You are a predator and you instill fear in most people.”

Uncle Jeff smiled at me, “C’mon Byron, we need to take care of some other business with your mother.”

As we walked off, Mom joined us with her bag.  I was going to find out what was in it.  There were two Rites performed on me that night, the most important in my mind was the Rite of the Talisman Dedication performed by Uncle Jeff so that I could keep my clothes as I shifted between forms.  Mom performed Baptism of Fire to keep track of me until I had successfully completed my Rite of Passage.

The rest of the trip was downright dull and boring compared to all of that.

My sophomore year was quiet except for phys ed.  My scar on my chest got a lot of attention.  I told people that I’d been swiped by a bear while camping.  They don’t need to know who I am. Most people didn’t bother me and that was fine by me.  It’s easier to listen to people and learn about them when they don’t care about you and keep their distance.

The next summer I was sent up to Uncle Jeff’s for three months of “summer camp”.  I don’t know how we survived!  The version of summer camp up there is crazy!  Battle circles?  Backwoods survival?  If anyone else ever found about that stuff, we’d all be locked away as survivalist crazies!  As I wasn’t a “real Get”, which I was reminded of quite often, I was given the ‘soft’ treatment.  I had more than my fair share of fights.  They didn’t care that I had been tested and marked.  I wasn’t a true Get.  I was tainted by my father to hear them tell it.

Looking back, I have one thing to say to them: Fuck you!  You pretentious better-than-you assholes!  Just because you have blond hair, blue eyes, and great bodies; it doesn’t mean you are better.  Yeah, you can fight.  So can I as many of you learned.  I kicked ass, I took names, and I made sure you fuckers haven’t forgotten who I am.

Each cabin was considered to be a pack.  I don’t know how the packs were picked or if it was random.  I can’t say that I care.  All I know is that I was in a pack whose totem was Crow.  We weren’t bound to Crow in the spiritual sense, but we were to think of ourselves as a pack whose totem was Crow.   The first year at camp was spent teaching you what you needed to know of the Garou.  I had learned the litany in the first week.  Laws and structure are what allow one to grow and allow others to work together towards higher goals and means.  Tribes, Auspices, and all that…were drilled into our heads every day.

Every day started with the 6am bugle call and breakfast at 6:30.  The morning was learning the all about the Garou.  It was so painfully slanted towards the Get’s version of history and culture that it was difficult for me to hold my tongue which didn’t make it any easier for me not being a true Get of Fenris.

Dinner was served at 7pm and from 8pm to lights out 11pm, we had free time.  While most of the Get were off practicing for battle and trying to kill each other, I sought out the higher ranking Galliards to learn the stories of the Garou.  Many of them were tales of Get battles and victories, but there were many stories of Scandal and Renown and how they were handled or punished.  These stories held my attention.  Honor. Glory.  Wisdom.  Not easily gained, easier to lose, but they are what gives a Garou his status in the Nation.

By Mid-summer, each auspice was having its own session in the afternoon.  We spent five hours every afternoon going through Garou Lore and studying the major events and decisions.  Were they made according to the Litany?  was the Litany broken or did a Garou try to flex the Litany to fit their decision.  Many afternoons were spent listen to a Galliard telling a tale.  We would have an hour to ask any questions or clarifications we had, then we were sent back to our cabins.  The next day, we would discuss the tale and dissect it like the judges and jury that we are.  I began to see that the young Get around me needed some reminders of the Litany and why it was given to us.


Additional Wednesday Brief Authors this week:

Ahhh….to be writing again

It is a wonderful feeling when something you’d written years ago pushes itself back up to the front of your mind and demands to be retold.

I’m currently working through a re-write of a character autobiography from a Werewolf: The Apocalype LARP character who died too soon due to his own stupidity.

I put a lot into his “history” and there’s a part of me that is in that story and wants to get out and be heard.

Add to that, NaNoWrimo 2017 is what, a week away, and I’ve got an idea for it too.  Granted, it’ll be pure smut told as a collection of short stories but I think a change of pace will be good for my creativity.