Tool-Shed Memoires

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Author's note: I submit this chapter in memory of ben tover, aka h.s., aka Hank Snow. We were working on the remaining parts of this story when he took ill. He was also doing the editing which is why there has been such a long delay in posting the rest of this story. Unfortunately, he never recovered. I was able to recover these remaining chapters and am attempting to edit them. I hope that you continue to enjoy his humor which borders on zany and his brilliance shown in his method to learn how to spell. If this chapter brings a smile to your face please consider lighting a candle
http://www.gratefulness.org/candles/candles.cfm?l=eng&gi=HankS in memory of Hank and say a little prayer that the Saints in Heaven are now enjoying the Hank Snow show and laughing the halos off!

In the oubliette, Mark was starting to wonder how good it might feel, stuffing this muscular ranch-hand's ass for him, and he liked the way it made his cock feel, just thinking about it. Woody, on the other hand, was biding his time, waiting for Mark to come to the inevitable decision to service him ... as he wished ... but it was puzzling to Woody that Mark was taking so long to ask him for permission to suck his cock, and his confidence was starting to ebb, just a bit. So the wordless combat continued, unresolved for the moment.

Josh's meat in fact began to warm from the effect of James' sexual insinuations, "Hey how can you tell if my meat is still fresh?" Josh said, grabbing his dick through his Demin jeans.

"Well, first you have to take a good whiff of it," James said as he moved in front of Josh and knelt before him, using his index finger and thumb to lower his fly before he pushed his nose into his pants and breathed deeply.

Breathing deeply is what the two Men in the oubliette were doing, as they both struggled with the power-exchange looming before them. Woody was admiring Mark's increasingly impressive and ever-swelling basket, and was starting to shift his focus to thoughts other than those of domination, while Mark was plodding down the exciting path of thought which headed to his own domination of Woody's bung-hole. They were both sweating a bit now, as the sexual tension mounted between them, yet neither was willing to break the ice to say anything ... for fear of showing their cards too early, perhaps.

James filled his lungs with Josh's male aroma as he savored the tangy, semi sweet bouquet of this testosterone mixed with his crotch sweat and natural cheese (domestic not that imported crap nor Kraft's plastic variety). James undid Josh's belt and pants' snap allowing his jeans to move down his furry legs like melted wax slowly dripping down the side of a candle. James signed deeply from the wonderful sight of Josh's sirloin and licked his lips as his saliva flowed into his mouth which was anticipating a tender sample of Josh's well formed thighs.

Mark was unconsciously rubbing his cock through the denim of his worn jeans, staring, without realizing it, at Woody in his entirety, admiring the studly package for all its muscular and manly-scented attractiveness. Woody was starting to imagine Mark in a dominant role, plowing his not-quite-virgin ass for him, and that thought was not unappealing ... in fact, from the size of the tent being erected in Mark's jeans, it was starting to sound better and better with each carefully stolen glance. The two men continued to whirl round and round in their minds, dancing the dance of control ... and submission.

"Once satisfied that the meat smells fresh, a small taste can confirm one's evaluation." James said as he began licking and bathing Josh's now trembling crotch. He sucked one nut into his mouth and delighted in its spongy elasticity. When he released the testicle from the captivity of his mouth, it sprang back into its natural position, not like Flemming's which merely hung low, due the the aging process. James then licked the cock head to savor the vintage of Josh's pre-cum wine with its particular male must accented by a hint of fruity wood.

Mark was about to pop ... something had to give, because these two Men were almost quivering, the lust was running so high. Woody was now also fondling his own package, more openly eying Mark's goods. Both were salivating, but they could only speak for themselves individually. It was a nerve-job, sports fans ... who would crack first was the burning question.

The only burning question in the Kitchen was how high to put the grill before placing the Italian sausages on it. But no one was really concerned about answering that query. James was too intent on his evaluation of Josh's meat. He used his hands to squeeze and feel around his muscular thighs, ass globes, gonadal orbs and marvelously erect cock. James was enjoying a master chef's reverie as he used his mouth on Josh's dick transforming the young man into a plate of hash.

Woody, much to the surprise of them both, was the one who snapped first ... “So, tell me, Mark ... you lookin' ta find a place ta plant that mighty oak? I jist might accidentally have a spot that's perfect for it...” and he immediately felt the fear of someone who's just opened himself up for rejection ... or ridicule.

Mark, though, was puzzled by his jaw suddenly dropping to the floor, but recovered quickly, and before this tiny window of opportunity closed again ... maybe forever ... he gushed, “That'd be swell, Woody! I surely could use some deep relief here!” and he gave the other cowboy a nice, big grin, intensifying the crotch-rubbing as he did so.

Once James had Josh like mash potatoes in his hands, he whirled him around and began to apply some Crisco to his rear entry. However, Josh suddenly stiffened and turned himself around saying, "Hey, I ain't no puff that you can simply fill up with your hot cream!" If anyone is going to be putting meat into the oven. Its me!"

"Sure, sure you can have your turn, but I am the master chef here and Sandy said that you have to learn from me. So turn around and bend over that aluminum counter and let me show you how to place a bread stick into an oven properly."

Bread sticks were not being discussed, however, in the oubliette, by our two nearly-mad-with-lust cowboys ... no, they were thinking about logistics, instead ... Woody solved the first problem by overpowering Mark and stripping him down to his birthday-best, laughing at the other cowboy's slightly confused (and quite feeble) protests throughout the denuding process.

Once naked, Mark was treated to the vision of Woody slowly stripping himself down to a mere smile ... his wood bobbling up and down, left and right, excitedly, and mistakenly, thinking it was going to be splitting an ass open momentarily. But these two had rewritten the script which might otherwise have been used ... and Woody, once exposed for use, all but lunged down on Marks visibly-needy cock and inhaled it down his throat in one fell swoop, which gave Mark a perfect opportunity to gasp out, “Damn, Man! Save some for later!”, and they both laughed ... although it was a lot more difficult for Woody to do so satisfactorily.

Josh was taken a back by James' dominance. He always saw him to be such a Nelly, but seeing this his commanding side was a pleasant surprise, so Josh assumed a submissive role and slowly bent himself over the cold metal table.

James used a cloth icing bag and used it to insert an adequate amount of lubricant into Josh's anal labia. He then aimed his arrow straight dick into Josh's dough nut hole while holding on to his firm and smooth-feeling hips.

James pushed deeper and deeper into Josh's back entrance. Josh had put out the welcoming mat and was doing his best to tense and relax and then tense his anal muscles in order to facilitate James' slow movement that reminded him of the slow steps of a bride coming down the center aisle.

[this sub-writer, having been soundly thrashed by its Dom-Writer for trying to skip over the ever-important details of the denuding process, describes them in detail here, now, and apologizes to the reader for any inconvenience this act of laziness might have caused.]

With Mark pinned under him, Woody slowly unbuttoned the cowboy's shirt, first exposing the Man's pecs, nips and moderately hairy chest, and then working slowly down to the treasure trail ... a sight which Woody thought was really hot. Tugging the shirt-tails out of the Man's jeans, he pulled it down over first one arm, and then the other, until Mark's work-hardened biceps were available for admiration. Mark was now totally docile ... willing to let the stronger cowboy do what needed doing ... and he shifted position so that Woody could complete the removal of his shirt, the whole while enjoying Woody's nearly-adoring hands wandering all over his upper body while the shirt was eliminated as an obstacle to proper sexual congress between the two.

As James moved further into Josh's delectable rectum and felt his anal canal gripping his own hard erection, he moved his hands around and played with his navel. James explored his insey with his fingers bringing his captive sub into a loud moan provoked by his drilling of his navel academy like Woody should have done to Mark, but just jumped over that sensual part of Mark's body in his avid eagerness to get his posse onto the glory trail and reach his desert cactus. When will cowboys learn to enjoy the ride and not just the getting some? When will the learn to savor having all that horse meat between their legs instead of just being to eager to dismount?

Woody, realizing from the last paragraph that that he'd forgotten to savor the cute belly-button of his partner, took that opportunity now, before rushing to the glory trail and the desert oasis ... and he did it with his finger, which he moistened by presenting it to Mark's surprised lips, causing Mark to open up and to suck it, tentatively at first and then like a starving babe at last being offered a teat. Once his finger was appropriately wet (and that took quite a while), Woody extracted it from Mark's warm mouth and inserted it into his navel, twisting it back and forth, pushing it in and pulling it out, and with his bristly stubble rubbing Mark's chest, nibbled Mark's nips for him while he did so.

James continued to churn Josh's butter as he pushed and shoved his hips back and forth. James wished he were taller and pushed down on Josh's lower back delighting in the feel of his own legs rubbing up against Josh's firm thighs. James' balls swung with each pumping acting spanking gently Josh's ass cheeks below his anus. The feel of James' hairy balls tolling against him was turning him on more and more. Josh began to push back to meet James' thrusts which finally began to make contact with Josh's walnut size prostate. Each pang had Josh panting and begging for more.

"Fuck me! Don't ever stop! Cook my ass and sear it!" Josh said with a stage whisper heard all the way up in the last row of the balcony.

Meanwhile, back at the navel Academy, Mark was being slowly liquefied by Woody's almost-too considerate fore-play, but he would have been the last Man on Earth to have asked the larger Man to stop ... Woody's assault was inexorable and ever changing ... Mark was getting that old-time feeling of being close to cumming ... and he was still half-dressed! Woody maintained his stubbly vigil at Marks nips while shifting his hands to the other Man's rodeo belt-buckle, which he unclasped, and the belt was slowly opened, followed by the snap of the jeans themselves. Mark was in awe at the mastery and finesse Woody was demonstrating, and came out of his own amazed reverie to begin kneading Woody's nips for him, too, through his shirt.

In James effort to respond wholeheartedly to Josh's pleas, he lifted him up completely onto the table and was soon straddling his butt and quickly reentered his tunnel of love. Then James laid himself completely prostrate on top of the man that had just become dough in his hands. He used his own body to roll out the dough and plow deeper into the prostrate cowboy as his sheriff like cock searched out his prostate with the intention of making a house arrest.

Woody now rose to his full and impressive height, straddled Mark's left leg, facing away from the other cowboy, and, reaching down, grabbed his boot and lifted it up between his legs, where he then pulled it slowly and nerve-tinglingly off of Mark's foot. After gently lowering that leg, he shifted over to the other and repeated the process, leaving Mark in his stocking-feet. Woody then turned around, his tented jeans impossible to ignore by now, and, kneeling down, grasped the cuffs of Mark's jeans, slowly tugging on them and gesturing to Mark to lift his hips to make the effort go more smoothly. Woody was in no rush ... it took much more time than necessary to remove Marks jeans, but it was time well spent, in the estimation of both cowboys, if their reactions were any indication.

Josh grunted as James' roller pin cock reentered him and slammed into his walnut which was so overloaded, that the slightest jarring could make it spill.

"Got anything ready to eat," said cowboy Little Dan who had just walked in through the swinging kitchen door.

"I have something in the oven, it will be done shortly, Just have a seat and make yourself comfortable."

"I hope you guys wash down that table after you get through kneading dough-boy there" said Little Dan.

"Boring as hell. Its taken the whole gald-darn day for Woody just to get Mark undressed. I couldn't take the suspense so I came over here to see some real cooking.

Mark was feeling so utterly relaxed and happy ... this cowboy was taking such good care of him, a far cry from the rough-'n'-ready hard-core fucking which was more the norm in the hard-working world of the cowboy. But Woody was far from through undressing him ... it would surprise many to know that the removal of a partner's socks can be made into an erotic and sensual act all of its own, as Woody proceeded to demonstrate to his euphoric and grinning partner in lust.

First getting down on his knees before Mark's left foot, he looked into Mark's eyes while slowly lifting his foot to his lips ... then, gently grabbing the very tip of the sock with his teeth, be tugged, just a bit, to begin the sock on its slow journey off of Mark's foot. He leaned forward to grab the sock up near the upper part with his teeth, and tugged ... just a bit ... to loosen it there, and then repeated with the toe of the sock again, bit by bit getting the sock down, until it was finally ready to yank off, with a triumphant growl and a jerk of his head at the very end, keeping his eyes locked into Mark's eyes the whole time this was happening. Even as the sock was falling to the floor from his teeth, his tongue went into action...

Accustomed to cooking while others watched, James continued to stuff Josh's pork nonchalantly. Josh continued to grunt and James announced that the meat he was cooking was coming up to temperature.

"Golly gee! If I couldn't smell those EYE-tal-yon sausages in the oven, I'd think you were talking about fucking Josh, but seeing your chef's hat on your head, I can see that you are far too serious of a cook.” LD quipped.

...and with that tongue, Woody proceeded to bathe Mark's foot, very slowly, so as to allow Mark to feel the slight bristle of his tongue's rough surface as it wended its way over the surface of his foot's skin ... between the toes ... across the sole ... around the ankles ... until Mark was purring and moaning with pleasure ... and then Woody returned to the toes, and ... one by one ... sucked them in, and lavished his mouth on each one, being extremely careful to spend time with his tongue between the toes as he worked his way from one side to another ... Mark could not have described his feelings at that time even if he'd had a gun at his head, but he knew that he was loving it. And there was still another foot left to go!

"Eberhard, put down that fuckin' gun!" Sandy yelled, authoritatively, from the bedroom, at the now-visibly-shaken Dom-Author.

"I'll put down the gun when 'ben tover' promises to stop trying to describe Mark's feelings!” the over-wrought Dom-Writer rasped out, referring to His most-infuriating sub-cowriter.

Woody repeated the process on Mark's other foot, taking just as much time to do it and being just as careful to do it well, and then moved ahead to the last remaining vestige of Mark's clothing ... his boxers.

Kneeling between Mark's legs, Woody spread them apart gently so that he could bend down and forward, leaving his hands on Mark's athletic and hairy legs, gently and reassuringly squeezing them ... to grab the waistband of the boxers with his teeth, which he did, and pulled them a bit south, letting go and repeating the act with each side, and gesturing to Mark with his head to lift up his hips. Mark's cock was by now flowing almost freely and constantly with pre-cum ... and as he worked at removing the boxers, Woody was not averse to quickly running his able-bodied tongue over the head of that noble organ to cop a taste of the Man-juice straight from the tap. But he was waiting ... and the boxers, after much shifting back and forth with his teeth, were finally removed with yet another joyful and playful growl and a twisting of his muscular neck, to be flung aside, and Woody was free to begin the next act of this ballet ... whatever that would turn out to be.

Little Dan was getting hungry, so he went over to the oven and pulled out his own sausage and then also served himself some of the meat from the oven.

James' eyes opened wide, as it dawned on him that Little Dan's name was irony at its best. For a second he forgot about Pop-'n'-Fresh, who was below him as he licked his lips in envious desire to service the anaconda that had just been released into his kitchen.

Josh pushed up with his hips to get James' attention, and James resumed his oil-explorations, pumping fiercely into Josh's hot ass. He also whispered in Josh's ear to check out Little ... ahem ... Dan. When Josh moved his head in Dan's direction, his sphincter muscles clamped down so tightly around James' cock-head that his blood pressure went up a couple of points.

Once Woody had totally stripped Mark, he slowly stood up, and Mark knew that it was time for the Man to begin stripping for him. His mind treated itself first to a vision of Woody slowly stripping himself down to a mere smile ... his wood bobbling up and down, left and right, excitedly ... and mistakenly, thinking it was going to be splitting an ass open momentarily. But the reader would like this process described in most excruciating detail ... as would this sub-writer's Dom-author! So without further ado, let's first read my most worthy and masterful Co-Writer's next offering, shall we?

Dear Readers: Please cut and paste and send to the authors,

so that they may better serve you all in the future!

( ) I enjoy the deep philosophical underpinnings of this parable.

( ) I was moved by the metaphysical analogy between Flemming representing the status quo of a complacent government and the growing unity of third-world nations in their global concern over the warming of the planet.

( ) Forget the political critique and get back to the pure sex for which you are both are famous. Love your other stories on Nifty.

( ) I prefer to read more about cowboys out on the range where the buffalo roam.

( ) I can't answer this poll because my hands are covered with Vaseline and I don't want to mess up the keyboard.