Fangs a Lot
II
Bill cursed
softly as he drove the minibus along the dangerous mountain road, his fat gut
pressed up against the bottom of the steering wheel. The locals had warned
him not to travel at night, although they had cited different reasons to sway
him from starting out so late. "Why not
stay another day here?" Gunther had asked.
Indeed, Bill's afternoon had been quite entertaining with the blond hunk
skewering his plump ass. Bill had been pleasantly surprised by the many
offers of hot man sex he had received in this region of the country. Most
people wouldn't consider a large man of close to 350 pounds and six-foot-two
to be sexy, but many of these men did. Maybe they had sex with the horses and
cattle and just dug big things. He had already
stayed rather long as it was in this section of the country, and he had
wanted to make it across the mountains and into the next valley where he had
told the hostler his grandfather was born. "Ah! You are
like a warm bed of downy feathers on a cold January night!" Gunther slid his hot, coarse hands over the large, round
belly and laid his curly blond head on it. He played with the fat man's
quarter-sized nipple and then went to suck it, nibbling softly at it. The
large man stroked Gunther's broad, muscled back
with one hand and reached over to grab the turgid sausage of the cattle
farmer with the other. Gunther switched positions and straddled the enormous gut,
sliding his balls over the mound of flesh, diving his cock past the soft
mound of Bill's chest and into the hot, eager mouth. Bill's bloated cheeks
made him look like he was furiously playing one of the local folk songs on a
tuba as he sucked the glorious local meat. "I shall
ride this American tourist like a rodeo bull, eh?" With his cock
lathered up, Gunther gestured to Bill to turn over.
This country man was quite sturdy, Bill mused, and he would have gladly moved
here to stay with Gunther and Franz and Leopold and
the others. He grunted as Gunther's rod separated
the mounds of flesh of his ass, sliding up and down the crack, teasing Bill's
twitching anus. With a victory yelp, Gunther aimed
and thrust his pole past the protective ring of muscle and deep into the fat
man's warm gut. "A nice
sausage stuffing for your fat ass, my friend. You won't get sausages like
ours anywhere else but here," Gunther teased. "Hell, these
are better than the thuringers in the restaurants
here!" Bill nearly shouted as the farmer plugged his butt. The two men had
rolled and played like this since the wee hours of the morning, continuing
from where the group session had left off. It took both men some time before
they shot their loads and they were silent except for their huffing. Gritting his
teeth, Gunther grasped a handful of Bill's hair and
roughly pulled his head back as he pounded faster for the ride of his life,
his own head arched back. His square jaw dropped open and his eyes nearly
popped out of their sockets as he gasped the local curses and pistoned his weapon furiously as if his life depended on
it. Both he and Bill
went rigid at the same time with Gunther's cock
buried deep up to the base, his coarse pubic hair rubbing erotically at
Bill's back entrance. Surprisingly, Gunther, who
thought he'd be dry by the sixth orgasm in ten hours, gushed forth with a
load of hot juice that took two full minutes to expel. He was in tears and
panting when he weakly said, "Don't go, my friend. Stay here. We will
feed you till you burst, but you must keep that fine gut and ass of yours
here. We have never had sex with a man that was THIS fantastic!" Bill knew that if
he was going to leave, he'd have to do it then. He showered and left the
sleeping Gunther with just a kiss on his forehead. The village he was
seeking was only thirty-five miles away, but that was as the crow flies. Up,
down, around, and even through rocky mountain roads was another thing and it
took Bill much longer than he thought it would. In addition, the mountain
shadows had brought on night a lot quicker than it happened in the American midwest. The roads were
still rutted and strewn with rock debris from the harsh winter and even in
late spring they hadn't been adequately repaired. With the communist government
now defunct, American tourists and businessmen could travel in areas long
forgotten by the West, and they would find to their surprise (at least
several years after the change), as Bill had, small cities and villages with
rustic, narrow streets, old buildings, and ATMs, computers, and fax machines. "However,"
Bill muttered, "their roads still suck," as he squinted into the
dark. A shadowy form
darted in front of him and he instinctively yanked the wheel to the right,
sending his small vehicle airborne over the edge of the road and twenty feet
into the ravine. It landed upright, but Bill's head knocked into the
windshield and he must have passed out--a dangerous situation in the wild. How long it was
before he was able to shake the grogginess from his head he didn't know, but
his lights were still on, showing two of his vehicle's wheels resting in
front of the minibus and a pack of snarling wolves leaping onto the hood and
at each side. "Hmmmph! Trying to open the can of meat, eh?" Bill
dryly muttered. Inside, he might have been safe--except that the wolves were
quite cunning. The snarling one just inches in front of his face had leapt
off and retrieved a large rock in its mouth. It used this to bang against the
windshield at the crack where Bill's head had damaged it. Occasionally, the
wolf dropped the rock, but it would shake its head and pick it up again. The
other wolves picked up on this technique and several more rocks were battered
on the windshield, side windows, and even the roof.They
were making progress. Each thump of rock was widening the crack just a bit
more, and chips of glass were falling in. When a small hole opened, one of
the hungry beasts tried to pull at the edges with its paws but yelped and ran
off, licking the wound it had created. The others could smell Bob's flesh
through the hole and their frustrations set them off to more vigorous
pounding, growling, and snarling. "Well,"
Bob grinned glumly, "you fuckers look like you're gonna
make it in here, so I better get ready." He pushed his
seat back and was in the process of removing his shirt when the snarling
stopped suddenly. Bill looked up and saw the wolves standing stock still,
ears perked up, eyes wide. The one closest to him yelped in terror and the
entire pack disappeared into the forest. "Well I'll
be damned!" It was a few
minutes before he heard the knocking on his window and he turned expecting to
see the wolves again. However, it was a human face which was shouting
something at him and gesticulating for him to come out. It was a pleasant
face, not handsome, but still nice looking, Bill thought. Hell. He was
thinking sexual opportunity just moments after he had just missed becoming
kibbles and bits. "I'm sorry,
I don't understand you!" Bill shouted. "Get out. There are wolves
around here. They'll get you!" he warned his benefactor. "You speak
English? Well, then, get the fuck out of that van, then," the face had a
good-natured smile as Bill opened the door. "You don't
understand. The wolves ... they almost killed me ... and I was IN my VW
minibus. Get out before they kill you too!" The man chuckled
and stood back with his hands on his hips, letting the fat man open the door.
Seeing him struggle with the effort, the new man assisted. "Oh. They
won't come near me. They know my smell. We've known each other for
years--they stay away from me and my land or I deal with them my way. Come
on. Let's get you up to the top of the ridge. I've got my car up there. What
kind of idiot drives on these roads at night?" "Apparently
two kinds," Bill quipped. "I'm the 'Bill' kind. Bill Travers."
He extended his huge paw. "Well, I'm
the 'Otto' kind of idiot, then. Otto Fleissmeyer.
Here, let me help you up. It's rather steep here." "I'm
impressed! You did that so easily. I'm nearly three hundred and fifty pounds
and you pulled me up like I was a baby." Otto chuckled,
"It's all in the leverage. Besides, I haul animal carcasses that the
wolves have gotten or I haul the wolves after I'VE gotten THEM--which is more
often. C'mon, let's go. We still have a way to go." When Bill
gratefully sat in the seat, he noticed the interior and looked shocked. "Wolfskin, of course." Otto grinned. "What
brings you to these parts--and at night, yet." "Well, my
grandfather mostly. He was from around here. I should have reached the
village sooner, but I guess I made a wrong turn--before I tried to fly the
minivan from the Carpathian airstrip you have here, that is. He was always
describing the place and telling me the local folktales." "Your
grandfather? I don't recognize the family name and I've been around here a
while. It's odd though that he ever left here. This place was deep in
communist territory and no one ventured at that time more than thirty miles
in any direction." "It was
during the war, actually, that he left. He was injured in a battle and taken
to an Allied hospital, sans papers, sans uniform, sans any identification. He
could speak French and pretended to be an amnesiac. He married a nurse--an
American--and came to the U.S." "Clever. But
why were you out here so late? Didn't you know it was dangerous out here in
the dark?" "Well, uh. I
got delayed a bit with some friends I just made and Gunther
HAD advised me not to go, but being the big dummy I am, I just figured I
could do it." "Oh!"
Otto grinned lasciviously. "So you had a fuck party with the boys and
couldn't bear to split up in time to travel, eh?" Bill looked
shocked at this sudden openness about his sexual encounters. "What the
fuck do you folks have out here? A 900 number sex line with call
forwarding?" "Something
like that. Oh, don't worry. I've known Gunther,
Franz, Leopold and the others for quite a while. I'm usually part of their
parties. In fact, if I can brag a bit, I'm why they cum together, if you
catch my drift. I'm notorious for giving great head." Bill chuckled at
the wink Otto gave him and the exaggerated casting of Otto's eyes to Bill's
crotch--followed by a more theatrical licking of his lips. "Well, I
guess I have an interesting rescuer and host for the evening, then." More than you'll
ever guess in your wildest dreams, Otto mused. The closeness of this huge man
next to him was mind boggling. His warmth permeated the interior of the
vehicle and Otto couldn't concentrate. "Didn't your
grandfather tell you about the dangers out here?" "Oh, like
the wolves and bears and things? Sure. He even threw in the werewolves,
too." "That's a
new one. Usually it's vampires. Didn't he mention those dastardly
vampires?" Otto was hamming it up in his best Bela
Lugosi voice. "Nope. Just
the townspeople did. They said something about it. Actually, grandpapa did
say once that all the vampires from around here had been killed. I haven't
given much credence to his or the townspeople's stories, though." Pity, Otto
thought. The heat from the large man's body was getting to him. The smell of
the American's hot flesh so close was tantalizing and tempting him to pull
over and take him immediately, and all that flesh with all of that blood to
support it--but he wanted to play his little game with this unwary traveler. Later, he told himself, later--as a reward. They discussed
how Otto knew English: business contacts; what he did for a living: owned
large tracts of land both in the country and in several towns and small
cities and he collected rents as well as investing in a water damn which
provided necessary irrigation and electricity to the area. When they reached
the castle, Bill was stunned. "A castle?
And in such good condition, too." "Yeah, well
I've kept it up and put a lot of renovation into it. It has electricity, hot
and cold running water, tiled bathrooms, the works. Since the commies aren't
running the show anymore I can do more." They had passed
though the castle gates which were operated by a remote switch, and Bill got
out, put his arms behind his head and stretched backwards, lifting his
T-shirt up and exposing a crescent of gut to Otto's gaze. What a prize! And
it would soon be his, he thought. Bill helped Otto
unload the groceries, mostly meat--"there was a big sale at the
butchers," and Otto had almost run through his winter store of food and
needed to restock his larder. "Ah! The
night air smells so fresh up here," Bill had breathed out, driving Otto
almost insane with lust as Bill's huge, soft breasts returned to their
roundness and fullness, resting on the rounded protrusion of the enormous
belly. "Pine, and grass, oak, bear poop, and ... is that nutmeg, too?
And look at those stars and the full moon ... I've never seen the sky so
clear!" Inside, Bill was
given the grand tour of the castle before Otto offered him dinner. Bill said
he wasn't hungry, but when Otto looked pointedly at his massive gut and
arched an eyebrow, he chuckled and relented. Otto gave his
guest some very good vodka, then explaining that the servants were away on
family business, he went to prepare a simple meal while Bill meandered
aimlessly through the library and corridors. Finally, Otto called Bill to the
dining room and both men feasted in relative silence until Bill finally
complimented his host on such a fine dinner. "This is
excellent meat! Just a hint of nutmeg with an undercurrent of garlic. It
isn't quite pork, though. Is it sheep or goat?" "Oh,"
Otto said waving aside the inquiry, "it's a local animal bred just for
me, as a matter of fact. But tell me more about your grandfather." Bill shrugged,
raising his huge shoulders so that he looked like he didn't have a neck. "There isn't
much to tell. He spoke about how beautiful the countryside was--how raw and
unblemished it was. He told me about the honesty and simpleness
of the sturdy people--which I see is being compromised by our western
technology, and he often sang the old songs and told the old folktales."
"Any of
these tales about vampires? I don't mean to keep hitting upon the subject,
but the local people talk of little else. I'm surprised your grandfather
didn't mention them much--unless he was afraid that by speaking about them
one would find him? But then, you said he had said that all of the vampires
were dead. Did he mention how that happened?" Bill nodded past
a mouthful of food while savoring it and commenting
on just how exquisite the meat was. "He sang a
song in the old language and I had asked him once to translate it for me. It
seems that he was a vampire hunter himself and the local song sung his
praises for having killed so many vampires. It seems there were quite a few
infesting the region and he had taken it upon himself to save the simple
people, so he hunted and killed them all." Otto raised the
eyebrow again, bemused by the tale his dinner guest was weaving. "Well.
I find that hard to swallow, if I might say." He chuckled at his own
pun. "Nothing against your grandfather, but vampires are notorious for
their strength. We mere humans couldn't possible kill them. Did he mention
how he did this heroic deed?" "Oh. I don't
put much credence into grandpapa's stories myself.
Vampires? Hah! And he had told me that the song of the people told how he had
strangled the vampires or something like that." Bill shoved the
last forkful of meat into his mouth and was chewing it with loving care while
he host chuckled at his tales. "Now,
werewolves ... grandpapa always said he could never kill a werewolf. He said
they were the strongest creature that God or the Devil had ever made. He
would weave endless stories about them on winter evenings and kept us all
entranced by them." Again, Otto
arched his brow. "Are you sure he was from these parts?" he teased
his guest. "It sounds to me like he got his gothic movies mixed up. I
haven't heard any tales of werewolves in these parts and I've lived here
since 195- ... most of my life." Bill cocked his
head to one side. The man who was his host didn't look more than thirty-five,
but then, looks can be so deceiving. They chatted a while more, then left the
table. Otto led Bill to
one of the bedrooms. "I know you must be tired, but if you'll indulge
me, I must have a piece of that ass!" In more ways than one, Otto
chuckled to himself, smelling the odors that
fullness from a heavy meal caused to emanate from the large man. "Why,"
Bill chuckled good humoredly, "I'd be remiss
in denying my benefactor, host, and rescuer what he desires." He looked
up and down his host's body with obvious lust in his eyes. "Anything you
want from me, I will gladly do. You don't just happen to have a handy-dandy
little dungeon in this nice old castle now, do you?" He looked around
hopefully. Otto laughed and
shook his head and the two men were quickly wrestling on the bed. Otto was
very impressed by Bill's sexual abilities. They seemed to surpass what
Leopold and Gunther had reported. Otto decided that
he would give Bill a treat before he took him his own way. Figuring that he
would at least give his guest the blow job of his life before becoming mere
sustenance for Otto, the vampire took the thick man-meat into his lips,
swirling his tongue around it. Holding it firmly, his thin tongue probed the
slit, separating the thick lips of the penis. Bill lay back and
closed his eyes, moaning and encouraging his host to "Go on!" Otto chuckled
devilishly, slowly nibbling at the thick and delicious meat, gently piercing
the skin with tiny "prick" marks on the prick. Bill barely flinched
at these, only moaning "Oh, yes, keep going." With his nose
buried in the thick pubic hair at the base of Bill's cock, Otto used his
powerful suction to make Bill shoot his load while he sucked and savored the salty fluid. He could smell the moist sweat
clinging to the stiff hairs, hear the pounding of the blood as it rushed to
fill and sustain the meat on which he was gnawing, smell the meat under the
layers of skin, taste the rich flavors this large
man was tempting him with. He nearly swooned from the overpowering abundance
of these sensations. Bill was
returning the favor and Otto was quite surprised.
This American's technique was superb. He was receiving the best blow job of
his life. When e shot his load, it was as if his entire being was being
hauled through the narrow opening of his cock--all of his muscles and organs
wanted to exit via orgasm. All of his senses were heightened. He could hear odors! Smell sounds! Listen to the pounding of this man's
heart deep within his chest and see the muscles contract in their dance of
life. He saw stars (and even the moon, he mused as he admired the round ass)
as he jettisoned his white cream down the throat of this fantastic man. Otto
even thought of adding this man to his harem repertoire, but his other
passion--his bloodlust--was driving him to take this man tonight or go
insane. Both men, lay
back panting like dogs, exhausted from their efforts and their release. "Well,"
Otto puffed out his chest and grinned. "What did you think about MY
abilities as a cocksucker?" "Oh. It was
pretty good." "'Pretty
good'? The men in these parts," the offended host huffed, "all of
the men in these parts say I give them the most exquisite blow jobs--cocksucking to die for." And some of them did, he
didn't add. "I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to offend you. Yeah. It was good." "Oh? Have
you had better?" Otto challenged, trying to prevent himself from fuming.
Bill reluctantly
nodded. "Well, since you asked, well ... yeah. Actually, my grandpapa
gave the best head I've had anywhere, and I've traveled
all over the world. Oh, don't look so shocked. Grandpapa and I, well we were
a team. We shook up quite a few gays, too, and had to travel frequently
because they kept following us around and wouldn't let us rest!" "Your
GRANDFATHER sucked YOUR dick?" "Well, yeah.
But then everyone in my family was good for that. We were notorious for that.
We all liked to lick each others' asses too! Want to see?" He grinned
and rubbed Otto's firm, hard butt. Otto was
momentarily stunned, but his eyes narrowed and he looked hungrily at his bed
mate. "No. I want
to see something else. You said you grandfather claimed he killed all of the
vampires," he grinned and shed his Otto disguise, appearing in all of
his threatening splendor to the wide-eyed hunk of
pork fat lying beneath him. "Well, that's a crock. I'm still here."
He raised his
clawed hands to maul his victim and opened his maw to display all of his
sharp teeth--teeth designed to tear flesh. His teeth hovered over Bill's
right breast, the fangs quivering as they longed to enter the hot, deep flesh
beneath. Bill tried to get
away, but the creature held him down. "Your
'grandpapa' was seriously mistaken," the creature said mockingly,
"since there is no creature stronger than a vampire!" Bill smiled.
"Except," he said as he raised a strong, hairy paw that grabbed the
vampire under the chin, twisting its neck painfully, "a werewolf! Now
you will truly be my host!" With a loud
growl, he twisted the creature's head as its eyes went wide and the pain in
its neck increased. Its last vision was of a large, wolf-like being, its
teeth bared, its tongue hanging out like a dog's. Of course! He had said they
enjoyed licking and sucking each other--canines do. And the panting, just
like ... The big, hairy
hand lifted and stretched the vampire's neck while slowly choking the vampire
whose penis began to swell like that of a hanged man's. Bill twisted the head
and a sickening snap, like that of a wet twig twisted too far, shattered the
tense stillness as the vampire spewed his last load of cum in his final
orgasm. "My friends
told me you were on the road," the werewolf said to the withering
corpse. "They told me how you cruelly hunted them. The local wolves
wanted me to join their pack and I almost did. Now we can take those pelts
back. Our dead are revenged!" A howl shattered
the stillness of the chilly night and was answered by several others. |
