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!

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?

In the underground house of pleasures, Mark watched, as a hungry wolf might eye potential prey, while Woody stood up and smiled down at him, and a strip-tease commenced, with the Woodster performing to an audience of one.

Woody relied on memories of strip-teases he'd seen in his life (and on images he'd wished he'd seen), to inspire and inform his performance, and was feeling both sexually-charged and just a bit playful ... a great blend ... as he began his act. He lifted first his left foot, grabbed the boot with his large, powerful, calloused mitts, and smoothly slid it off his foot, balancing himself effortlessly as he did so ... no mean feat for one as large as the Woodman ... and then repeated with the other foot, placing his boots against the wall beside each other neatly ... indicating the high probability of his being capable of house-training by a future mate. While pulling off his boots, the muscles in his arms flexed naturally from the effort, and were, in themselves, a show of some interest.

Little Dan downed his sausage savoring its spicy flavors and blushed a nice pinkish hue as he became aware that both Josh, the fuckee and James the fucker had their eyes glued on his own size-queen's-envy of a cock.

Once he managed to reel in his fire hose, zipping up his proportionally small fly, while heading out of the kitchen, James resumed his tenderizing techniques on Josh's loin of butt.

Josh felt like Little Dan's anaconda was now expanding inside him. James too felt the boa constrictor tightness of Josh's innards pressing against his flag pole which was now firmly embedded in Josh's garden.

The Woodster, meanwhile, gracing Mark with a constantly-maintained eye-to-eye contact, had raised his hands to his shirt's top button, and was slowly undoing it ... and he spread the shirt open a bit after he'd done so, exposing the upper portion of his strong and hairy chest for Mark's approval ... which was given, if the amount of slack-jawed drooling on the part of the recumbent cowboy was any indicator. Working his way down the shirt, Woody repeated the button-opening and shirt-spreading, until everything from his neck to his treasure trail was exposed for viewing, then, un-tucking the shirt-tails from the sides and back, he turned his attention to unbuttoning the cuffs, finally slipping the shirt off behind him, catching it and folding it neatly for placement on the floor next to his Man-sized boots.

Meanwhile back in the bed room Sandy was making a delivery to the UPS man, Adam and pushing the cargo deep into his receiving area. Fleming who was in a doggie position next to Adam was feeling the void which Sandy left behind when he pulled his truck of a cock out of his garage.

Adam was totally new to male on male delights and wondered how he had be so naive to think that this would be anything other than it was. He spasms as Sandy pushed his load deeper into his dock and Flemming used his tongue to rim inside his ear.

Woody was thinking about Adam (but just a bit, since Mark was right there with him!) as he reached up to rub and massage his chest, and give his nips some squeezing and twisting, and then, with measured slowness, reached down to his own rodeo-belt buckle, opening it, and then the belt-snap previously hidden behind it. In no hurry to lower the zipper, he reached further south to grab a couple of handfuls of crotch-meat, gently kneading and rubbing, bringing his already impressive cock to an even higher level of throbulence (yes, dear reader ... 'throbulence'!). Mark's breathing was ragged and hoarse, as he was spellbound ... a mere thrall to the Man-Gawd displaying before him, and his own fuck-tool, knowing that its skills would soon be called for and depended on, was maintaining a rigid vigil of alertness, looking for any and all openings to begin its hungrily-awaited penetration of the Woodster's most private hole.

In and out, in and out, Sandy pushed and withdrew, loading and unloading, Adam's brown colored delivery van. Flemming continued to watch this plain and clear fucking action delighting in the dimples formed in Sandy's thighs as he thrust his hips forward provoking the inevitable grunt that Adam would emit as a signal that he had come as close to his loading dock as the rubber guards would permit.

While Mark's cyclopean fuck-tool was looking for its opening, Woody casually reached up the few inches required, and began, painfully slowly, to lower his brass zipper ... the sound, as always in situations like this, serving as an extra aphrodisiac to any listeners not yet dead. The zipper's lowering had a nearly hypnotic effect on Mark, who couldn't have taken his peeled eyes away from it if his life had depended on it. Pre-cum was so steadily drizzling from his cock that there was a puddle forming in his navel, directly below the spigot.

When Adam began to moan in a continuous purr, Sandy withdrew his dick from his ass hole and penetrated Flemming's patient butt hole and began to give him equal service.

In and out, push and pull back, push, pull, thrust. Flemming loved having his ass rammed by Sandy's oil-tanker-sized cock. Now it was Flemming's turn to make music as Adam began to explore his ear with his own hot wet tongue.

Woody's zipper now having completed its small part in this scene, the cowboy reached up to his hips and grabbed the jeans, pushing them down just a bit, in the process exposing more of the tropical forest still mostly contained within, and giving rise to the hope that there might be a wild and untamed beast lurking deep within its confines ... a one-eyed beast, dragging a two-ball bowling-bag behind it ... as if to prove the point that mixed-metaphors were of no significance to it. The untrimmed jungle growth overflowed the zippered opening, and its crisp, curled sheen made Mark's salivary glands go overboard with anticipatory delight.

Back at the Galloping gourmet's breaking in the bare cowboy's ass which was spread wide for him on his preparation table, James pounded his cannon like cock into the bare back's mountainous cheeks. Josh's orgasm began to coalesce within his prune-sized gonads as his nerve endings began to syncopate into a common electro magnetic force capable of competing with the Grand Coulée Dam.

Meanwhile, in a vain attempt to outdo the preceding paragraph, Woody maintained an even keel and a steady South heading, as his jeans were guided by their Captain ever-so-slowly towards the fate which gravity had decreed for them: a blue puddle on the floor between his feet, at long last leaving his proud and powerful man-root totally exposed for all those wishing to come aboard. It was monumental in girth and length, at least to the almost paralyzed Mark, lying below it and watching upwards with boy-on-Christmas-morning expectation, and he shifted his body (just a bit, mind you), unconsciously anticipating the fall of some errant drop of cock-nectar, which he didn't want to fall to the floor unloved, but, instead, into his ravenous mouth.

Not wishing to overshadow the alternate author's inputs, let me restrict my descriptions to say simply that James' Shish-kebab was fully cooked in Josh's oven so he removed his roasted mutton slowly from Josh's hole which was unwilling to release it. James found his meat to be held firmly in the grip of Josh's throbbing sphincter muscles as his own mutton spewed its gravy on Josh's now well tenderized meat.

[Shish kebab (Turkish: şiş kebap) is a dish consisting of small cubes of meat threaded on a skewer (şiş in Turkish) that are grilled or roasted. Any kind of meat may be used, and fruit or vegetables are often placed on the skewer as well. Typical vegetables included are eggplant, tomato, bell pepper, onion and mushrooms. The phrase literally means 'skewer of grilled meat' in Turkish.]

Not wanting to overshadow my alternate author I will describe Sandy's orgasm with a simple description of bombs bursting in the air, giving proof to Flemming' s dark innards that Sandy was still there. Meanwhile, Adam's red rocket blared with spurts of cum streaming oer the rampart so strongly that he could have single handedly suck enemy ships.

[One-up-man-ship being the risky proposition that is it ...especially for a sub-writer ... this unworthy one will simply opt to proceed with the Woody and Mark Show, already in progress at your local oubliette!]

Mark's hunger for dropping ambrosia was satisfied almost immediately, as a substantial glob of thickened-mead-like pre-cum erupted from the Woodster's man-meat, and began its short trip to Mark's mouth, quiveringly awaiting its arrival. Woody, watching this, was captivated by the innocent and guileless adoration present in Mark's eyes as he maintained a lock on the incoming bogey, and jerked in surprise, just a bit, when Mark's tongue lashed out to rescue the runaway dribbling just in the nick of time ... in an effort worthy of the most talented frog.

Mark was only grateful for having had the opportunity to save a small offering from Woody from the oblivion of the floor.

James' last minute touches would have made Julia Child proud as once again he proved himself to be a true iron chef. Josh arose from the chrome table more than satisfied with the culinary probing and glutial throbbing massage that James had confected was like the proverbial icing on the cake, but in this case was the cum on the table.

Just as Woody was about to reach down to offer his soon-to-be ass-fucker a lift up, they were surprised to hear the beeping of the security gate opening, and then closing, followed by the sound of someone gleefully whistling, “Camptown Races' ... both men had heard that tune being whistled at the ranch, but neither had ever thought to figure out which ranch-hand was so fond of the ditty ... and in less than a minute, their curiosity was answered by the grinning and studly arrival of Deke Shadlowe, a.k.a., “Dark Shadow”, a Man they'd worked with without really ever getting to know very well ... but who had the looks of a Man accustomed to having a good time wherever he went. Mark and Woody gave each other a surreptitious look ... and a grin ... and Woody said, “Hey, Shadow!”, having remembered at the last moment the Man's nick-name.

Adam now satisfied that his van could not possible carry a heaver load, returned to his truck and prepared to leave Flemming's dude ranch and his dream fantasy world until his next delivery route would oblige him to visit again. As he drove out the front gate, one tear seeped out of the corner of his eye and he looked over the western plain feeling the heartache for the numerous tribes of indians that had littered there.

[this sub-writer, in order to appease the inevitable wrath of all Native Americans, hastens to explain that its Dom-Writer was referring humorously to the Wild-Eyes Cody commercial about littering, from some years back ... no slur was intended or inferred!]

Flemming now satisfied sexually turned on his TV and was pleased to see Hulk Hogan wresting Jesse Ventura. "LOOk at this shit, this guy was the governor of Minnesota, this must be a repeat. I love watching his smooth muscular guys grabbing a hold of one another and pretending not to enjoy the closeness." Said Flemming

Sandy sneaked a peak at the screen but was much more interested in preening himself in front of the mirror. He new his down time would be much shorter than Flemming's, so he felt somewhat pressured to be at his peacock best, so that he would be ready to do this courtship dance at the first sign of a prospective mate coming into his territory.

The still-grinning Shadow took his time making a minute examination of the two totally naked and fully engorged Men before him ... Woody standing over Mark, who had just been about to reach up to take Woody's offered hand. Of course, it goes without saying that Shadow began manually exercising his crotch as he continued his inspection, and, after a very long time, he looked back and forth at these two cowboys and yelled out, “Yeee-HAWWW!!! You two are sure a sight fer sore eyes! That cop Higgins left me with the bluest balls I ever did have! And the emptiest fuck-hole, too, I might add! You fellas feel like helpin' a fella out with that sorta problem?” ans he winked at them both.

Mark was on his feet in almost no time, grinning right back at Shadow, and nodding, as he got ready to assure the other cowboy that he'd be taken well care of by the two naked ranch-hands ... and then some ... but Woody spoke up first, saying with a big smile, “Strip, pardner! You'll get all ya need from us and more! Ain't that right, Mark?” and Mark, flustered for only a brief split second, nodded again enthusiastically.

Barte Walk, one of the prisoners was not used to being locked up and starting demanding his rights. He was making such a racket, that the three naked cowboy guards were distracted from the chore at hand, so Mark walked over to his cell, in his full birthday suit and said to the malcontent, "you open then trap door of a mouth of yours again, I will personally plug it shut, with this here mouth gag, which is more than ready to do its job." Barte looked down at Mark's not so little winnie and understood clearly that if he made any more noise that he would be eating that hotdog and without a bunn.

Having quelled the incipient insurrection quite effectively, Mark stepped back into the circle of friends and began watching as Shadow proceeded to finish stripping (a task, the reader will be pleased to know, will not take two chapters to describe!). In fact, horned-up as he was from his half-sexcapade with Officer Higgins earlier, Shadow was abundantly eager to “git 'er done” ... as they say in polite circles. Mark started to run his his hands all over the cowboy's body before the stripping was even done, admiring the fine musculature and thick, shiny pelt of the Man.

Suddenly, James came running down into the oubliette and yelled to Dark Shadow, "Sandy sent me down here to tell you that the cattle in the back forty broke through a fence and a good part of the herd is heading up into the mountains. You have to get out there right away!"

Shadow thanked James, as if he were delighted to hear that his balls were doomed to stay blue for a while longer, when Woody grabbed his head and pulled it down to his cock, saying with a commanding voice, “them cattle are slower than the horses ... the time it'll take ta get ya fixed up won't interfere with ya doin' a good job ... so suck on this while Mark gives that hole a good workout, buddy!” and with this he impaled Shadow's head on his own powerfully needy cock, while Mark waster no time getting behind the new-comer, spitting on his fuck-hole, and slamming home a good one.

Shadow was never as grateful for “Wham-bam” sex as he was then, and Woody and Mark made sure he fired off a heavy bombardment of cum all over the floor ... at Woody's feet ... before they finished him off. They helped him get dressed quickly and saw him out of the oubliette, not so late that anyone would raise questions.

In the meantime, a Fed Ex truck pulled into the compound with a delivery for James, who had ordered a new Kitchen Aid Mixer attachment which un beknown to the others would allow him to hook up a special dildo to it so that he could use it as an automatic fuck machine. But when James took one look at the delivery man, he said, "Hi sailor, new in town? If you have the time, I've got the place....?

Josh who was listening to all of this while waiting for blue balls Dark Shadow to join him on the fence mending and cattle herding crew, that is the camp out fuck under the stars team, said, hey, James you promised to give me a turn at you butt hole.

Meanwhile, the two cowboys at the top of the revised blue-balls list, maintaining their guard-duty in the oubliette, were left feeling like they'd just done a very nice deed ... but now they had their own blue-ball problem to deal with ... and were back to plan 'A'

Woody went down on his knees in front of Mark, feeling starved for some action and feeling like Mark was definitely hot enough to sub for, and he proved himself to be a righteous cock-sucker, driving Mark into fits of moaning, jerking and thrusting with his tongue and throat action ... and a little bit of that old-time humming, too.

"Josh, my butt is yours any time you need to lay one in me, but this poor nomad lives on the road and never knows where he might find a place to bed down for the night. It was only my southern hospitality which obliges me to open myself to receive into our hearth a pilgrim worker.” He then added, to the Fed-EX Man, “Please step right into my boudoir ... I mean the kitchen ... and I will gladly stir your pudding ... instantly!" to which the Fed-EX man responded with open-mouthed shock.

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.