Loading...A story about a chance meeting from a while back. The young man is no longer quite as young but is much wiser.
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Chapter One: Off the bus
How I found myself at that bus station in Fort Wayne, Indiana is a long and not very interesting story that can be condensed in a few paragraphs.
I had suspected that the man I had been living with for the last several months was seeing somebody else. When I had asked him whether or not that was happening, Donald had told me that I was crazy, and I think that he even told me that I had it all wrong that afternoon when I came home early and saw him in our bed, gobbling the dick of another guy.
Not thinking, but only knowing that I had to get out of there as fast as I could, I threw together some things and bolted out of our apartment. The next thing I knew I found myself in the bus terminal buying a ticket to Fort Wayne, Indiana.
Why Fort Wayne? I have no idea, except that when I was a kid I used to listen to hockey games on the radio, and the Komets radio station used to come in really clear at night despite how far away Fort Wayne was from my Albany home.
That wasn’t a very good reason to go there, but I wasn’t thinking very clearly at the time. I was hurt, because I thought that I meant more to Donald than that. He had an eye for younger guys, which was how I had ended up with him to begin with. I guess that 19 wasn’t young enough for him any more, at least if the twink I had caught him with was any indication.
Once I arrived in Fort Wayne I wandered around the city for hours, totally lost. Coming there was stupid, not because of the city itself, which seemed alright, but I didn’t have a clue as to what I was going to do now. Hell, it wasn’t even hockey season.
That was when he saw me. The pickup truck that had gone by me going the other way had swung back around and was now pulling alongside of me and stopping.
“Come on with me,” said the voice inside the cab of the truck as the passenger door swung open.
There was nothing all that inviting about the offer; the truck was a rusty piece of crap that was probably as old as I was and the man with the deep voice that had invited me inside certainly wasn’t all that friendly looking either.
Just the opposite. The man that beckoned me looked like something out of a horror movie. Bald and grim looking, he resembled Tor Johnson from those old Ed Wood movies, although in much better shape. No one in their right mind would have gotten into that truck that evening, which says a lot about my state at that moment because there I was, climbing in and closing the door.
“I’m Kenny,” I said, after thanking him for picking me up. “Kenny Charles.”
“Connor,” the gravelly bass voice replied, and I didn’t know if that was his first name or his last name.
“I’m not from around here, so I don’t really know where I’m going,” I told him.
“With me,” was his answer.
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Chapter Two: With Connor
As we drove out of town those were the last intelligible words he said to me. Although I talked the entire fifteen minutes we were in the truck, all I got in response from any of my comments and questions were grunts. By the time we pulled into the driveway of the little house on a dark and dusty road somewhere that was 10 miles away from Fort Wayne in who knows what direction, all I knew was that I was a dead man.
This was like a scene out of a horror movie. There I was walking into a strange house with a guy I didn’t know, and as I walked behind him I was struck by the size of the man. It was obvious even sitting in the truck that he was a big guy, but he had to be at least 6’6″ or better because he towered over me and I’m almost 6′ tall, and he probably weighed close to twice my 165 pounds.
Not fat though, that was for sure. He was wearing bib overalls and a red and white checkered flannel shirt with the sleeves torn off, exposing arms that looked to be the size of my legs. Despite his shiny bald skull, the rest of his body seemed to be covered with a pelt of hair.
Connor was ageless, and by that I mean that he could have been anywhere from 35 to 65. All I could think of was that this had to be a relative of that old wrestler George “The Animal” Steele, and I wondered whether my mentioning that would be appreciated. Would that be better than having a guy say that you looked like Tor Johnson?
Would he even know who either of these men were? That was a valid question, because while there was a bent and twisted antenna on the roof of the little house, there was no evidence of it being needed. No TV was in the house, and it only took a quick look for me to figure that out.
The living room and the kitchen were all one big room, about 20′ by 10′, and all that was in it was a roll top desk and chair in one end and a kitchen table with one chair in the other, with a wood burning stove in the middle of the room. Talk about living simply! This man was a real minimalist.
I could see that there was a bedroom off of this room, because there was no door, and inside that room the only furnishings were a bed, a night table with a lamp on it and a small dresser.
“Uh, excuse me Mr. Connor,” I said meekly.
“Connor,” he replied with a grunt, so I assumed that it was his first name. Either that or he wasn’t into titles.
“Can I use your bathroom? I asked, and Connor nodded behind us to a small room off the kitchen area.
There was a door to the bathroom, but the bathroom was furnished much like the rest of the place, or should I say unfurnished. There was a toilet, a sink, and a metal shower stall and a towel hanging on a nail. On the sink was a bar of soap, a tube of generic toothpaste and a toothbrush.
I was a bit surprised that there was a roll of toilet paper, figuring that maybe there would be a pile of leaves instead, but at least the plumbing worked and it was clean. Surprisingly clean, as was the rest of the house. It was rustic in an odd way and everything in it seemed to be a relic of the 60’s, but it sure was spotless.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Connor was at the ancient stove, heating up a pot filled with some kind of stew. Who knows what or who was in the mixture, but it did smell good, and after my offer to help was answered with a grunt that I took as a no I stood by the table and watched until he was finished cooking.
He grabbed a couple of plates from the cupboard; one a red plastic and the other of white china with a faded gold trim around the edge, and after he set them on the bare table he motioned for me to get the other chair that was at the desk.
When I returned he had put a couple of glasses filled with water beside the table. Mine was an old Flintstones jelly glass featuring Barney Rubble, and his was a tall gold glass that looked like something you would get at a gas station giveaway. Two bent forks completed the dinner setting, and I vowed to be neat enough to not need the napkin I didn’t get.
Connor ladled the stew onto the plates and sat down, nodding for me to join him. After an odd moment of silence, as he held his hands together like he was praying, he dug into the food. Without conversation being an option, I joined him in eating.
“It’s good. Really good,” I said, and although I would have been terrified to say anything less, the fact was that it was good. Very simple, yet very fresh and tasty, and if it was squirrel instead of beef that the fork cut through like it was butter, with a sick sense of humor I had to admit it was good squirrel.
After dinner, Connor rebuffed my offer to do the dishes and did them himself. It took about 30 seconds to clean the lot of it, and after he finished he wiped his hands off on the faded dish cloth and motioned toward the bathroom.
“Shower,” he said, and the way he said it wasn’t framed in the form of a question. I was to take a shower.
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Chapter Three: Showering with an audience.
I went into the bathroom and closed the door, undressing as quickly as I could. The door didn’t stay open for long, because Connor followed me in and left the door open.
“Here,” he said while handing me a bar of Ivory soap.
“Thanks,” I said as I took it from him and finished undressing.
No shower curtain, I noticed when I looked at the metal shower stall, but then again it wasn’t like there were rugs to protect, just a bare wood floor like the rest of the place.
Connor watched me with a blank expression on his face, not even blinking when my underwear went down. The cock that Donald had called big did not impress him, not that it should have, since it was very average and could only be considered large when compared with Donald’s little stem.
He reached past me to turn on the shower, seeming to be familiar with the proper settings. His taste in water temperature seemed to run a lot hotter than mine, but at least he had hot water, so I jumped in and winced as the hot spray hit my skin.
Connor sat on the toilet and watched me shower, and as I soaped myself up he continued to stare at me like I was a not very interesting TV show. At some point when I had my eyes closed Connor had gotten up and started to undress, because when I looked over he was stepping out of his bib overalls.
Now Connor was glad only in a pair of old and baggy beige boxer shorts, and my initial thought that this was a hairy guy was confirmed, Hairy from head to toe, and not a fine coating like I had on my legs either, but a full-fledged pelt of thick dark brown fur.
The sight of him turned me on, because I like hairy guys. Donald was hairy, but not like this man. Connor redefined the word hairy, and if he ever went out in public naked, calling him Sasquatch would have been easy and accurate.
Now the boxers were coming down, and although I tried not to stare, the sight of what dangled between Connor’s legs made that impossible. Suffice to say that the flaccid brown tube that hung between this Goliath’s legs was quite proportionate with the rest of the man.
Uncircumcised, the cocoon-like hose was as over-sized as the rest of Connor, and while I fantasized about what the thing would look like angry Connor grunted at me again.
“Enough.”
I rinsed off as fast as I could and killed the water, standing there dripping in the stall while waiting for instructions. Connor motioned for me to step out, and when I did he was waiting for me with a threadbare towel.
Apparently Connor didn’t trust me with the linen, because he proceeded to dry me off from head to toe. He was very thorough, and while his touch was rough, I found his technique rather arousing, and the evidence of how much I enjoyed being dried by my host was obvious.
When he got to my dick, he treated it like the rest of me, neither amused or disgusted by my erection, which was bouncing in front of me. The towel worked over my genitals roughly, stopping just in time before I would have ejaculated all over the man.
After he finished, Connor motioned for me to follow him, and as I walked behind Connor I noticed what seemed to be deep scars running horizontally across his back. They were old scars and not easy to see through the pelt of hair on his back, but they were there and I resisted the urge to ask about them.
Connor turned off the lights and went into his bedroom, with me following obediently behind him. There was no curtain in the bedroom window, which allowed the moonlight to pour in, and while there weren’t any neighbors anywhere around the house it still felt odd.
Then again, if Connor caught somebody peeking in the window, he would probably tear them to pieces and bury the body in the back field, along with the other guys he had slaughtered over the years. My flippant attitude came as a result of my depressed mental state, which was the cause of me finding myself in this place with this man in the first place.
Connor wasn’t mean, but while he was very fuzzy he wasn’t warm and certainly wasn’t trying to win my heart, yet I was aroused by being with this caveman and was curious as to what was going to happen next.
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Chapter Four: In bed with Connor.
I had gotten into the bed and was on my side in the rather lumpy bed, the sheet pulled up to my neck, when Connor got into the bed behind me. The bed groaned when he climbed in, and I found myself rolling backwards towards him as the bed sagged under his bulk.
The sheet came down, and Connor spooned up behind me, his hirsute body like a coarse blanket against my back. I felt Connor’s hand slide over my hip and grab my semi-turgid cock in his meaty paw, and as he began to stroke my dick I felt Connor begin gently rubbing himself against my backside.
I could feel his cock get hard as he pinned it between our bodies, and when his pulling on my dick got harder and faster I felt my orgasm roar through my groin despite my efforts to hold it back.
“Oh!” I groaned as my dick began spurting, tattooing the bedding with what felt like an absurd amount of cum, and it wasn’t until my dick had shriveled up completely that Connor let go of it.
Connor rolled me over onto my stomach, and acting with a speed that belied his bulk, had pulled my hands up behind my head as his body pinned me down. I felt something cold and metallic on my wrists, and even though I couldn’t see what he had done, the two clicking noises made it obvious that I was wearing handcuffs.
“Ssh!” Connor said when I protested.
“Please don’t,” I asked, my voice giving away my hear.
“Quiet.”
“I’ll do anything you want,” I said as the bed creaked as Connor moved around on top of me.
“I know,” Connor said over the sound of a jar being opened.
“NO!” I cried out as I felt my ass cheeks being pried apart just before a very large greased finger slid into my ass. “I can’t.”
“Ssh!” Connor hissed as his finger probed deep into my rectum. “Be a man.”
It wasn’t his finger that had me scared, because it felt a whole lot like Donald’s dick as it moved inside of me. It was the horror over what I knew was about to come. Surely there was no way that he was going to try to stick his cock into my ass.
Donald was only the second man I had ever allowed do that to me, and neither he or the other man was built anything like Connor. Yet it was clear that I didn’t have much choice in the matter, and even though I had kidded myself earlier about not caring whether or not I was going to be killed my this man, my survival instincts were still intact.
“I’ll suck your cock,” I said. “I give good head.”
“Later,” Connor mumbled, and I cried out when I felt a second finger force itself way inside of me.
“Please,” I whimpered as Connor fingers corkscrewed in and out of me, plunging deep into my bowels.
Yet those were only his fingers, and what awaited me was much bigger. I tried to look back over my shoulder at what Connor was doing but could only guess. I suspected he was greasing up his cock, and my suspicions were confirmed when his fingers slid out.
“Please,” I cried as something that felt about the size of an apple being pressed against my anus.
Connor was not moved by my begging.
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Chapter Five: Surprise.
To my surprise, while it hurt as Connor’s cock penetrated me, it wasn’t nearly as horrible as I had imagined it to be. Maybe it was because his cock wasn’t rock hard, but as he forced the somewhat rubbery member into me there wasn’t the piercing pain I had feared.
Instead, Connor leaned into me, pushing as much of him into me as I could take. When he had impaled me completely, he pulled his cock back out of me and never hit the wall again.
Connor was making a sound that was part growl and part purr as he covered me with his hairy body, somehow keeping his full weight off me while he moved in and out of me with a gentleness that surprised me.
His pace never quickened, and soon I stopped grunting after each deep probe, finding myself wishing that I was physically able to take all of him. Suddenly I heard his growling get louder and more raspy, and then I felt his cock jerk inside of me. The warmth that filled my bowels made it official. Connor had cum and I was still alive.
Connor was not through yet. I could feel his cock getting softer inside of me, yet he left it in. His hands took my wrists, still cuffed and against the back of my neck, and brought them up in front of me. I felt Connor nuzzling into my shoulders and neck while his hands slid up and down my arms before he got up on his knees, pulling me up with him while staying mounted onto me.
I saw his hand reach over into the jar on the side of the bed, which was Vaseline. His fingers scooped out some from the gigantic jar, and after he lathered up around the stump of his cock, he started to thrust gently into me again.
In seconds I could feel his cock swell in me, and now with me on all fours, Connor put his hands on my hips and went right back at it. He was thrusting a little harder and faster now, but remained surprisingly gentle – almost tender in a way.
Crouched over me, Connor was pinching my nipple with his left hand while his right hand grabbed my limp dick. He jerked on my cock much like he had before, with rough and brisk pulls that seemed to be designed to pull it off of my body.
I had never had my cock treated like this, and I was surprised that I enjoyed it as much as I did. I was hard when Connor came, and after his cock slid out of my bowels Conner kept jerking me off while staying blanketed over me until I came myself.
After a few minutes, Connor got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I could feel the semen oozing out of my ass as I tried to get comfortable in the massive bed, wondering what was next.
When Connor returned, he climbed into bed without a word, and after a few minutes I could hear him softly snoring. I dropped off soon afterward.
Chapter Six: The second day
I woke up at sunrise. Connor was up already and was in the shower when I wandered out to take a leak. I watched him soaping himself up and asked him if he minded if I took a leak. He nodded and watched as I went, and when I was finished he motioned for me to come into the shower stall with him.
Connor had his cock in his hand and was stroking his erection when I climbed in with him. The meaty hands on my shoulders left little doubt as to why I was in there, and as my knees hit the wet metallic floor I got my first real look at his erection.
How I managed to take this gigantic thing into my ass was beyond me, and I had to open wide to take the head of his manhood into my mouth after I skinned the shroud back. I could only take about half of what had to be close to a foot of cock into my mouth, so I spun my hand around what I could not suck.
Connor seemed to like this, and ran his hands through my wet hair as I went down on him, my mouth and had working briskly. He came fast and without warning, blasting hot ropes of cum down my throat that I swallowed as best I could.
He stepped around me and out of the shower, grabbing the towel and drying himself off as I took a shower. He handed me the damp towel, apparently trusting me with it now, and strode out of the room.
Connor was dressed when I emerged, and was making coffee by the time I got dressed. I was assigned what looked like a cafeteria cup with a chip on the rim, and was poured a cup by my host. We drank our coffee black with no sugar, and while that was not my choice it did taste good and took my mind off of the searing pain coming from my anus. It felt like he was still in there.
“You’ll work,” Connor grunted as we shared a place of toast, and he was right about that because after this spartan breakfast I spent the bulk of the day helping Connor clear a field of rocks and other assorted obstacles to planting things, which I could only guess was the reason we were doing it.
In the early afternoon a mail truck went by, and after Connor went to see what he had been delivered he got into his truck and took off down the road, I decided that it was break time. I went into the house and got a drink, and it was then that I decided to do a little snooping.
I looked through the kitchen drawers, and there was nothing besides the basic stuff. Connor didn’t even have a junk drawer. Across the other side of the room was the roll-top desk, and I approached it with more than a little trepidation, because I had a hunch that he would take a dim view of me trying to figure out who this guy was.
I opened the desk carefully and there it was. Connor’s entire life. I tried to memorize exactly the way everything was in the desk, and I use the word ‘everything’ in reference to the manila folder and the little box, which were holding all of the secrets of a man’s life.
Fifteen minutes later, I took one last look to make sure everything was in place before rolling the top of the desk back down and going back outside to clear some rocks. Connor returned shortly afterward, and when he saw my reddened and wet face he probably assumed I had been working instead of crying.
The mystery of David Connor had been inside that desk, and while the suspense about who this guy was had been killing me, knowing what I knew now made me wish I never looked in that desk.
Chapter Seven : David Alan Connor
How do you sum up a man’s life when all you know fits in a manila envelope? Very little of what was in that envelope was fluff, although the there was a picture that looked as if it was taken at Sears of a plain looking woman and a cute little kid.
The rest was legal stuff. Apparently David Alan Connor had gotten married right out of high school and had managed to impregnate his wife before getting his draft notice.
There was some mention of him being sent to Vietnam, but that was where the story got ugly. The legal papers suggested that he had made an effort to find his wife when he returned, who had apparently taken their son and disappeared, but there was no indication that he was successful in ever finding her.
What happened in between David Alan Connor going to Vietnam and his less than triumphant return home? Apparently there was a stay in a prisoner of war camp, one that lasted about 3 years, and when he finally got free and was able to come home he learned things had changed.
He got his picture in the paper, and when I looked at the handsome young man with a chest full of medals and a head full of hair, I tried to imagine what he thought when he got home and found his wife and child were gone.
It was tough to figure out what had actually happened. The papers suggested that his wife may have thought her husband had been killed in battle, but there were also indications that she had simply met up with a guy and grew tired of waiting for her husband to return. Maybe she thought he never would.
Judging from what I saw, he never saw his wife and child again. She just disappeared, and it wasn’t for lack of trying on Connor’s part judging by the bills from a detective agency. Apparently the two of them just vanished without a trace, and I guess you have to want to really do that way to make it work. Was there a reason? There was no way of telling.
Either way, the thought of that man coming back to that news was heart-breaking and well as frightening. Now probably in his fifties, Connor was an amazingly imposing character physically and mentally. Back then? The idea of this man in a rage was terrifying.
Yet Connor hadn’t been mean to me. He was rough, crude, cold and abrupt but hadn’t shown any anger. It was more of the thought of what was lurking underneath, or so I thought in my active imagination.
His lovemaking, if you could call it that, was savage but it was also tender in a strange way. He was just a man of few words. Was he always like that? Maybe he was a wise-cracking fun loving guy back then. Maybe that guy disappeared along with his family.
Those scars partially hidden under the pelt of hair on his back? My mind went to this movie with Sylvester Stallone about a man coming back from the war, and I shuddered when I recalled how sexy he had been standing there being abused.
That was different. That wasn’t real torture. It was just an actor acting and the scars were only make-up and me drooling over a guy I thought was hot. Connor? This man was real, and the more I thought about what this man went through, both over there and back home, the more depressed I got.
There was no ticker-tape parade for him, and probably no greeting at the airport when he returned. Just a bunch of medals and an empty house for your troubles. When I thought how sorry I felt for myself over my trivial dramas I couldn’t stop my eyes from filling up.
I had to get out of this place. It was impossible for me to look at him anymore as we worked together in the field. I wanted to hug him and tell him how sorry I was for what he went through. I wanted to thank him for pretty much sacrificing his life so I could stay safely at home wasting my time with idiots like Donald.
That wouldn’t do. I just wanted to get back home.
Chapter Eight: The last night.
I told Connor over dinner that I had decided to go back home. I had prepared an elaborate speech about me leaving, but Connor took it with a blank expression and a grunt before telling me he would drive me back to Fort Wayne in the morning.
After dinner we showered together, and after being dried off I was brought to bed, where Connor took me in his savagely sensuous way. Twice, just like the night before, and after he came the second time he rolled over and started to breathe normally.
I rolled over to face his back, and in the murky darkness I looked at his broad shoulders and the pelt of hair than went down to the base of his spine. Somewhere under there – I shuddered when I thought about it and then tried not to any longer – and then I reached out with one shaky hand and touched the coarse fur.
Connor jumped when he felt my hand, and while I wouldn’t have been surprised if he turned around and belted me, he didn’t. My hand made gentle strokes over his muscled back, and when he didn’t make any other reaction I slowly inched myself over until I was spooned up against his backside.
My hand slid around Connor, and although I could feel his body tense at my touch he did nothing. It wasn’t sexual but in another way it was. I was trying to tell him that I was just like him in one way. We both thought nobody cared about us but that wasn’t true with him. I cared, even though I was going to leave.
I fell asleep just like that, and it must have been near daybreak when I felt Connor squirm out of my embrace to go to the bathroom.
Chapter Nine: Goodbye.
The morning was uneventful. We had coffee and as Connor washed the cups I grabbed a broom to putter around. He seemed to like that, because I thought he almost smiled, but it might have been my imagination too.
Connor indicated that it was time to go and so I got my meager belongings together and hopped in his truck for the ride into town. No small talk, although that was no surprise and I had learned that it was best not to pollute the air with my chatter.
I did notice Connor slow down and look at a young guy hitchhiking on the other side of the road. I wondered whether that kid would be the recipient of a ride from Connor, and in one of my mental flights of fantasy I had myself asking Connor whether he was going to pick-up that guy after he dropped me off.
Connor pulled up at the bus station, and I certainly wasn’t expecting an emotional parting but was surprised when Connor asked me as I was getting out of the truck if I needed money.
“No, I’m fine,” I said after hearing the sentence that was like a filibuster for Connor. “Thanks a lot for everything, Connor. I appreciate it.”
I got a nod and a wave from Connor, and just like that we were both on our ways. I was going back to upstate New York and whatever awaited me there, and Connor was headed back to his place.
Would he have company? I thought about that on the long bus ride home as well as many times in the past. I hoped Connor did pick up the kid. If you were alone and hurting you could do a lot worse than him, I mused. I had in the past and would in the future.
As for Connor, I hoped he would find companions when he needed them. My real hope was that he would find that one someone that he would want to hang onto. Someone that he would open up with and allow into his heart, but I suspect that he was one of those guys who only let one person in that close, and that person was gone.
Does he ever think about me, or was I just another lost soul that he ran into along the way? Obviously I still think about him from time to time.
I wish you well regardless, my friend.
***
thank you for reading