Jerry
By:
Will B
(© 2009 by the author)
Ably Assisted by Ed
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
consent. Comments are appreciated at...
Chapter
18
“THE LEGEND OF LEAKY HOLLOW”
Nieu-Nassau was a small village in upstate New York along the Hudson River in Dragonwyck County. Some two hundred years ago, the two-story houses of the villagers were arranged around a circular village green. They were white with roofs tiled in the Dutch fashion. If you visualized the village as a clock face, at 12 o’clock was a larger three story house. This was the home of the Squire of the Village, Willem van Bones.
On three sides of the village, fields stretched behind the houses. The fields were tilled by the villagers. At 6 o’clock a road led to other villages and eventually to the main highway that led to Tarrytown, Albany, and New York.
At 2 o’clock a path led a short distance to the school house, currently unused since the village had no schoolmaster. The path went past the schoolhouse to an old abandoned mill which stood by a small stream that no longer contained enough water to operate the mill. The stream ran through a small valley known as Leaky Hollow; the stream and the mill was said to be haunted.
The small stream fed into a larger stream where the current mill was located. On hot summer days, the village men would go to the river bank, and out of sight of their good ‘vrous’ (wives), strip completely and take to the water to cool off and to clean off.
Even Squire Willem was not too proud to take off his white linen shirt, black breeches, white knee stockings and shoes and take to the water. He was a widower and was now 54 summers. He had blond hair (going gray), blue eyes, and a friendly smile. For a man of his age, his body was still impressive, and below the waist, he was a match for any of the other ‘meinheers.’
He owned all of the land on which the village and the fields were located. The villagers paid him rent, which he collected every year at an outdoor fair called a ‘kermis’ or ‘kermess.’
Squire Willem was a fair landlord. If a villager fell ill, or had a bad year for his crops, the Squire understood and forgave part of the rent. The villagers in turn loved the Squire and looked on him not only as their landlord, but as a friend, on occasion as a magistrate to settle disputes.
Life in Nieu-Nassau would have been idyllic were it not for one thing: the Squire had a son, an only son, Brom Bones. Squire Willem doted on his son and would hear no criticism of the young man. This had resulted in the young man growing up a little spoiled.
Did I say a ‘little spoiled?’ He was spoiled rotten through and through. He was now age 24, and was a good looking—no, a hot looking—stud. He had blond hair, blue eyes, white teeth, and a body that turned many a head. On a hot day when he had stripped to the waist, his torso gleamed tan and muscular in the sun
In the late afternoon he would sometimes go down to the stream for some bathing and horse-play with some of his ‘special pals.’ Standing in all his glory he showed that he was his father’s son, all right. So well-endowed was Brom that his friends called him Brom van der Boner. His special pals were Wolf van Butts and Pieter van Dirksin.
The three of them were ‘special friends’ as we might say some two-hundred years later. After a dip in the pool, they might adjourn to a convenient barn and indulge in some activities that left them all breathless, sweaty, and drained.
Brom, being the ‘alpha male’ that he was, always insisted on being the ‘top,’ and he would ride his two friends until he had coated their innards with his man-cream and had made them quite sore in the nether regions.
One wonders why Wolf and Pieter put up with being Brom’s boy-toys (if the term had existed in 1809). The answer was simple. Brom abused his position as the Squire’s son. When any village lad reached the age of 18, he was ‘initiated’ into the joys of group sex by Brom, Wolf, and Pieter.
The lad would be taken to the abandoned mill and ‘encouraged’ to be of service to the three horny studs. He knew he dared not tell his father or the Squire because the Squire would not want to listen, and he or his family might be forced to leave the farm.
So Wolf and Pieter made their bodies available for Brom, to use them as he wished, because they knew they would be rewarded by being allowed to take part in future initiations.
This situation had gone on for several years, from the time Brom and his friends were 20 until now, when the trio was 24 years old.
* * * * *
It was time for the annual kermis. Tables and chairs were set up on the green with one larger table set up just outside the Squire’s house for Squire Willem to collect the rents from the villagers. One of the men was his bailiff and kept the records of who owed what, and who had paid. After the business of the day was done, there would be a feast and after the feast there would be dancing.
The dancing would not be the stately minuet or graceful gavotte popular in the city, and not even the new dance, the waltz, in which the man had his hand and arm <gasp!> around the lady’s waist. No, this was good old fashioned ‘schulplatter’ dancing, with wooden shoes, thumping of feet and clapping of hands.
As one might expect, Brom was one of the best dancers there. He did not even need a partner. He took the floor and stamped and clumped and clapped and shouted, “Yah!” and “Aha!”
Everyone stood back and watched him perform. Wolf and Pieter and some of the others, men and women, watched as Brom’s cock seemed to twitch and grow with the excitement of the dance.
A gasp went up from the crowd as a tall dark stranger appeared at the edge of the crowd; he was wearing an old-fashioned tri-corn hat and the kind of coat that had skirts that flared out, and was carrying a carpet bag. He put his bag down, bowed to the Squire, and began to dance.
While Brom was sturdily stomping his way in time to the music, the stranger’s movements were light. Where Brom clapped, the stranger snapped his fingers. While Brom stomped, the stranger’s feet flew faster and faster.
Finally Brom stopped dancing and watched entranced as this tall stranger danced to the end of the music.
Squire Willem was on his feet and extended his hand to the stranger. “Welcome, stranger. Welcome to our kermis. Truly that was a fine exhibition of footwork. Won’t you sit and take some wine?”
“Thank ye kindly, good sir. Let me introduce myself. I am Ichabod van Cumsen. I heard you were in need of a schoolmaster, and I’m here to apply for the job.” Now Ichabod was a handsome man with straight brown hair, green eyes, and an attractive smile. His physique had shown to good advantage, and he carried himself in such a way that many a young woman and several young men wondered what might lie beneath that charming exterior.
After the Squire and some of the parents talked to Ichabod about his credentials (University of Wittenberg) and his methods (absolutely no corporal punishment), they offered him the job. The Squire told Brom to take Ichabod to the schoolhouse, which had a small room at the back where the schoolmaster could stay.
Outwardly smiling and polite, inwardly, Brom was seething. ‘Who was this stranger who came into town and showed him up in the dancing? Humph! Damned outlander! I’ll show him!’ It must be said that part of Brom’s jealousy was due to the fact that Ichabod seemed to be better endowed in certain areas of his anatomy than he was.
When they got to the schoolhouse, Ichabod asked Brom if he would come in for a few minutes, but Brom declined, saying he wanted to get home before it got any darker. “Be careful, Ichabod. Don’t go near the old mill. They say it’s haunted,” warned Brom, thinking that Ichabod was as superstitious as he was.
Ichabod opened the school, and soon the boys and girls of the village, and some of the neighboring villages, too, came to his school. Ichabod was a born schoolteacher, and his young pupils found that reading, writing, and even arithmetic could be fun.
After the school had been opened for two weeks, Ichabod sent notices announcing that he was willing to give vocal lessons to any young man who might want to develop his singing skills and perhaps form a men’s chorus.
Wolf van Butts was the first to sign up. It was arranged that he would receive private instruction on Monday evenings. Pieter van Dirksin was the next to sign up and he was to come on Tuesday evenings.
Ichabod started Wolf out with singing scales, and then progressed to some simple country airs.
“Wolf, you have a good voice, but I feel you under some stress,” Ichabod said one Monday evening. “Why don’t you unbutton your shirt, so your lungs can get more air?”
Wolf unbuttoned his shirt, and he did sing a little more clearly. As he moved he winced. “What’s wrong, Wolf? Did you hurt yourself?”
“Oh, I wrenched my shoulder and I feel like I pulled a muscle in my back. I’ll be all right.”
“No, no, my friend. You cannot ignore these aches and pains. If you would allow me, I could give you a massage that would make you feel better,” Ichabod said.
“If you wouldn’t mind, that might be just the thing,” Wolf said.
“Very well. Come into my living quarters and take off your clothes, all but your small-clothes. Lie on my bed and I will see if I can relieve your stress,” Ichabod said.
Working on a farm had given Wolf quite a well developed body. Broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a flat abdomen, all went to make him quite an attractive man. Ichabod started by rubbing the shoulders, and gradually worked his way down the small of Wolf’s back. Wolf sighed in ecstasy. He had never felt so good.
“I’m going to do the backs of your legs,” said Ichabod, entranced by the thought of rubbing his hands over those legs, covered with fine brown hairs. “Uhh, but you know I could probably do a better job if you would allow me to reach the tops of the backs of your legs, but it would mean removing…”
Wolf raised himself up and pushed his small-clothes down so that his oh-so-attractive bubble butt was exposed to the air. Ichabod lightly ran his hands over Wolf’s cheeks, gently kneading the globes as he did so. Wolf moaned a little more.
“Could I ask you to turn over so that I can reach the other sides of your legs and thighs?” Ichabod asked.
Without thinking any more of it, Wolf tuned over on to his back, and Ichabod could see the manly abdomen, the pectoral muscles, and the nipples, brown and surrounded with just a few dark hairs.
“You certainly have a well developed body, Wolf,” said Ichabod.
“Yes, well, working on the farm as I do, takes off the flab,” said Wolf, smiling at the man who was giving him such wonderful sensations.
Ichabod looked at the ‘treasure trail’ of hair that started below Wolf’s navel and got thicker ands darker as it traveled down to a nest of dark curly hair that surrounded Wolf’s organ of pleasure. Thick it was, and a full seven inches long, with a pink helmet that had a little ‘eye’ that seemed to be winking at Ichabod.
“Wolf, there is one more thing I can do, guaranteed to remove all tension, but it would mean…” Ichabod began to say.
“Ichabod, you have done such wonderful things to me that I want you to continue…please, please!” Wolf said.
Ichabod bent his head to salute Wolf’s cock. He licked it gently. He sucked it harder. He licked it some more. He sucked it again, even harder. He was able to take almost five inches into his throat.
Ichabod didn’t stop, and soon Wolf deposited some of his man-cream into Ichabod’s waiting mouth.
When Ichabod pulled off of Wolf’s now flaccid penis, Wolf reached up and put his arms around Ichabod’s neck and pulled him down to kiss him.
“Ichabod, I never knew… I never experienced such…,” Wolf began.
“What? Never?” Ichabod queried.
“No. Whenever Brom and I….whenever we … we ‘did things,’ it was always Brom who took his pleasure. He didn’t give a damn about Pieter's or my feelings, or any of the young guys he brought to the barn. He used all of us.”
“I’m shocked. Shocked! Do you hear? I never heard of such selfishness,” Ichabod stated.
“Never mind, Ichabod. You’ve shown me there is another side to love. All I can say is, thank you.”
The next day Wolf told his friend Pieter about the wonderful experience he had had with Ichabod. “I tell you, Pieter, it was entirely different from the way that Brom has treated us,” Wolf said.
“Oh, yah?” said Pieter. “Tonight is my night for voice lessons. I wonder what lessons I will learn.”
It was cloudy that evening when Pieter started out for the school house wondering what might happen, half-fearful, half excited. ‘What if Brom ever found out?’ he wondered.
He was about 20 yards from the schoolhouse when there was a crash of thunder. ‘I guess Rip Van Winkle is bowling with Henry Hudson and his crew,’ Pieter thought. Suddenly there was another crash of lightning, and the heavens opened, and in no time at all, Pieter was drenched to the skin.
Ichabod opened the door of the school house and yelled, “Come in, Pieter, come in. I’ve got a good fire going in the fire place.”
Pieter ran up the steps and into the welcoming warmth of the schoolmaster’s cozy room. Along one wall there was a table and two chairs. Over the table there were some shelves holding some delft plates, pitchers, and mugs. A huge fireplace with a roaring fire took almost another wall. A bed stood in the middle of the floor, conveniently close to the fireplace. Along the third wall was a bookcase filled with books.
Pieter stood there shivering. Ichabod said, “Take your clothes off, man, and towel yourself dry. I’ll fix you a cup of tea.”
Pieter quickly took off all his clothes and took the large towel that Ichabod handed him. When he was dry, he got into the bed and pulled the sheets and quilt over him.
In a few minutes, Ichabod came to the bed holding a mug filled with hot tea with a little sugar and some milk. “Drink this, Pieter. It’ll help you get warm.”
Pieter sat up in bed. His bare shoulders gleamed in the firelight. His chest was covered with thick dark hair, and his muscular abdomen boasted what we today would call a ‘six-pack.’
“Thank you, Ichabod. That was delicious.”
Just then, the wind outside picked up and the rain dashed against the window.
“It’s a good night to be inside, eh?” Ichabod asked.” Are you warm enough now?”
“Almost,” said Pieter, but he began shivering again.
“There’s one sure way to warm you up,” said Ichabod. “I’m going to get under the covers with you, and snuggle you close to my chest. Do you mind?”
Pieter smiled and said, “No, I-I-I d-d-don’t mind. I-I-I’m so c-c-cold.” He was thinking that there were worse ways to spend the evening than ‘snuggling’ with Ichabod. Ichabod quickly stripped, and before long his tall, slender, wiry body was under the covers and he was spooning Pieter.
A few minutes went by, and Pieter was no longer shivering, but now he had a quivering in his long, thick cock that was growing more and more rigid. At the same time, he felt something pressing against his anus. The pressure became more and more intense, and suddenly Pieter knew what he wanted.
“Ichabod, I want you in me. I want to feel your cock in my body. I want…” Now Pieter had been entered by his back door by Brom many times and he expected there would be some pain but he felt it would be worth it.
“Just a minute, Pieter,” said Ichabod. In a few minutes Pieter felt something warm and slippery being worked into his opening. “What are you doing, Ichabod?”
“I’m preparing you with some bear grease. It’ll make my entry much easier. I promise.”
Pieter was stunned. Brom had never shown any such consideration, but then Pieter stopped thinking about Brom and gave himself over to the wonderful feeling of Ichabod’s cock entering his anus. When Ichabod reached Pieter’s prostate he gave a shout of ecstasy. “AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEIIIII!”
Pieter was quivering with joy as stream after stream of Ichabod’s creamy nectar flooded his insides.
Gradually Pieter’s paroxysms of orgasmic joy subsided. He looked at Ichabod with tears of joy in his eyes. “Oh, God, Ichabod, that was wonderful. I’ve never….How did you….?”
“Pieter, I believe that sex between two people should be a matter of mutual pleasure. The more I can pleasure you, the greater my own pleasure.”
“But Brom never….”
“Hush, Pieter. Now I think I would like you to enter me. Would you put some grease on my anal area?”
Pieter did as he was told, and he prepared to pleasure Ichabod. He knew he would never be satisfied with the cruel treatment Brom was used to dealing out to his partners.
* * * * *
The next few days saw more and more village men coming to Ichabod’s house for, er, ‘vocal;’ lessons. They learned some things all right. Their mouths did things, their bodies learned new pleasures, and they all came away from their ‘lessons’ realizing that somehow they had been cheated by Brom.
Ichabod talked to them and gradually an idea, a plan, began to emerge.
It was Hallowe’en night and Squire Willem had given a banquet for all the villagers. During the meal, Ichabod, asked, “Squire, what is the story of this ‘haunted mill’ I hear so much about?”
“Pour yourself another mug of ale, and I’ll tell you,” said Squire Willem. A long time ago a soldier coming home on Hallowe’en from fighting the British found his wife and child dead. Distraught, he went to the old mill and hung himself.”
“That’s awful! How sad!” said Ichabod.
“Ever since then,” Willem van Bones continued,” anyone who spends Hallowe’en night in the old mill alone, is either found the next morning, completely out of his mind, or….he is not found at all.”
“I don’t believe a word of it!” said Ichabod. “I think if a brave man were to spend Hallowe’en night in the mill, he would survive, and the spell of the legend would be broken.”
Ichabod looked around the table, and said, “Brom, you’re the hero of the village. Why don’t you spend the night in the mill and put this legend to rest?”
“W-w-w-who me?” asked Brom. I d-d-d-don’t think so. I catch cold easily and the cold settles in my chest.”
“Oh, well, if you’re afraid...” Ichabod challenged him.
“Who, me? I’m not afraid of anything!”
“Of course you are,” said Ichabod in a skeptical voice.
“Go ahead, Brom, you can do it. It’s not very cold tonight,” encouraged his father.
Brom was actually scared of the idea of spending the night in the mill, but he was also terrified of being made to look like a coward. How else could he dominate the other young men in the village and force them to serve his needs?
“Very well, Ichabod, Father. I’ll do it.” Brom stood up and squared his shoulders. He’d show his father and this stranger..., this stranger who seemed to be becoming more and more popular with the lads. ‘Giving them singing lessons, indeed,’ he thought to himself. ‘I’ll show them all a lesson!’
Brom went to his room to get a warm cloak. While Brom was upstairs, Ichabod and all the other men thanked Squire Willem for the delicious meal and departed.
Brom came down to find his father alone. “Good night, father. I’ll see you in the morning.” He went out the front door and set off for the path that led to the schoolhouse and to the haunted mill.
As he walked, the moon went behind a cloud and the night was dark. Brom began to chuckle to himself. ‘When this night is over, I’m going to get Wolf and Pieter to kidnap Ichabod and bring him to the barn. We’ll strip him naked and I’ll ride his ass and then I’ll let Wolf and Pieter have a turn. I’ll show him!’
Brom passed the schoolhouse and knew it wasn’t far to the mill. Suddenly, something was thrown over his head so he couldn’t see, and strong arms held his own arms so he could not move, and then... Blackness! Everything went black!
* * * * *
When he regained consciousness, Brom found he could not move. He was tied to some sort of table, and he was…. Yes! He was naked. His strong studly body was trussed up like a hog going to the slaughter. He could turn his head slightly and through a door that was partly open he could see the flickering of a fire, and then he could hear laughter…cackling, and … the murmur of voices.
Through the door, came two male figures, absolutely naked except for masks that covered their faces. They drew closer and chuckled to each other and pointed at Brom. They approached him, one on either side, and they began to poke him and tweak his nipples, and then the tweaking became pinching. This was not sensuous treatment of his nipples. This hurt! He let out a yelp of agony and the two men grabbed his head and gagged his mouth.
Two more figures came into the room. Like the other two, these men were naked, but their faces were wrapped in a scarf so that only their eyes showed, glittering in the dark. One was carrying a pail of water, and the other was holding a …a… razor. ‘Oh, dear God, What were they going to do to me?’ Brom thought.
They drew nearer and one man poured cold water over his midsection and they began to shave the hair that grew below his navel. They were none too gentle as the one scraped his entire treasure trail away. The razor shaved more and more hair and approached his pubic bush,
‘They’re not? … They wouldn’t?’ Brom was terrified. If he made any sudden move, that razor might slip. Finally he swooned, momentarily losing consciousness.
When he regained consciousness, he saw four figures, naked, and still masked, standing two on each side of him. They didn’t say a word, but merely pointed and laughed at him. Finally the two nearest his head approached him and he saw that their penises were erect, fully engorged, and leaking precum.
One of the figures turned Brom’s head so that his mouth was next to the hard cock. The figure forced his cock into Brom’s mouth. Oddly enough, Brom suddenly found he was enjoying the taste, the scent of this stranger’s penis in his mouth. ‘Ummm, I could get to enjoy this,’ Brom thought to himself.
Without warning the stranger shot stream after stream of his semen into Brom’s mouth, and Brom….Brom was enjoying the taste of it, the sensation of the liquid flooding his mouth.
The man on the other side of Brom turned his head toward him and again Brom was facing a very erect cock. This time he did not hesitate to reach forward and take the hot thick tube of muscle and take it into his mouth, licking it, sucking it, making noises as if to say, ‘Give it to me, flood my mouth with your man-cream.’
Brom got his wish. For a second time that night he had another man’s liquid of life flowing over his lips, his teeth, his tongue, and into his throat. Just as Brom was thinking how much he had enjoyed drinking these men’s champagne, and was looking forward to sucking Wolf and Pieter’s studly sausages, the other two men grabbed his legs and bent them up and back over his stomach, and held them there.
The room was now filled with eight or ten naked men, all masked, and all laughing, whispering to each other, and pointing to Brom’s exposed butt cheeks. The men fell silent as a large impressive figure came into the room. He appeared to be seven feet tall, and proportioned like a Greek statue. Through the slits in his mask, Brom could see his glittering eyes. The newcomer’s body was massive, and his penis was a good nine inches long and thicker in diameter than any cock Brom had ever seen.
Brom suddenly knew what was going to happen to him, and he was half afraid of what might happen and half looking forward to being entered by this giant. The giant drew closer, and Brom felt the tip of the man’s cock pushing against his anal muscles. Just as Brom had entered his sex slaves’ anuses with no preparation, no concern, now he was being brutally entered the same way.
Harder and harder the thick cock pressed against Brom’s anus, against his sphincter; Brom nearly screamed aloud, but the two strangers who had remained at his head made warning signs that he was to remain silent.
Again the giant pounded Brom’s canal opening, and then…. he was through and the tip of the monster organ touched Brom’s prostate, and Brom was flooded with pleasure. This time he did speak. “Oh! Oh! Don’t stop! Ram it in as hard as you can. Ram it.”
Brom was lifted up to the heights of ecstasy and just as the stranger shot his cum into Brom’s ass, Brom himself released shot after shot of hot creamy cum onto his chest, his face, into his mouth.
As the stranger remained inside Brom’s quivering body, he began to unwind the scarf from around his head, and as the last folds of cloth fell away from the strangers face, Brom found that he was staring at the face of… his OWN FATHER! But this image began to morph into that of a ….a …..GRINNING SKULL!
“AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH! NO! NO!” Brom screamed, and the skull leaned closer as if he would kiss Brom. Brom looked at the other men in the room, and found that they too had skulls for heads.
‘AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHH1” The screaming went on as all of the figures drew closer and closer to him.
Closer and closer. Brom screamed again, and then ….
* * * * *
The sun came up. The birds sang. It was a beautiful November day. The red and orange leaves on the trees had turned brown.
The haunted mill lay basking in the morning sun, but…. The mill was empty. Brom van Bones had vanished. The massive giant in the mill was gone as were all the naked capering figures who had teased, taunted terrified Brom.
The schoolhouse was deserted. Ichabod had disappeared. Squire Willem sent notices to all the newspapers in the state, offering a reward for information about the whereabouts of his son. He never received a reply. Never!
Two years later a tall figure with straight brown hair was seen on the streets of New York. He was pushing a cart in which a man wrapped in a black cloak sat, giggling to himself. Once in a while the cloaked man could be heard to say, “He he he he. When is the giant going to come again, master? I want him to . . . I want him in me . . . . He he hehe! Please, master. Let the giant come and do what he did before. Please. Please! I need to feel him in…. Oh, why won’t he come and do it again? PLEASE! Please let him come! He heheheheheheh.”
The figure pushing the cart learned forward and whispered, “Brom baby, Daddy will take care of you when we get home.”
The End
(of Bruce and Chad’s story)
To be continued...
If you liked this story send a note to Bruce and Chad, c/o willb@tickiestories.us . They would appreciate hearing from you.
E’s comment: I think that Bruce and Chad have been taking lessons from Will in how to write a story. Poor Brom. I guess the spoiled brat got what he had coming. Too bad he enjoyed it so much.
Posted: 10/23/09