Village Queer

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Female Ejaculation

By the time I was forty, I had made enough money to retire. My decision to do so got accelerated by the housebreaking I endured one frightening evening. I will not bore you with those details, suffice to say, it was a harrowing experience and I was fortunate not to endure physical harm. The ordeal, however, made me take stock of my life, and I decided to spend the rest of my days in a safer environment.On one of my holidays a few years before, I had visited a remote village that looked like a place that time had forgotten. I had always been a rather solitary creature, and the isolation of this area had left a lasting impression on me.Summarily, I began to put my plans into action for my exit strategy.I had to sell my company shares, my house, and find a home in my new environment. Fortunately, my business partners understood my situation and were comfortable with my decision. The sale of my home where I had lived for ten years also proved to be no problem at all. My last hurdle was somewhat more taxing. The beautiful home I found needed a lot of fixing, but I was up for the challenge.Being a systematic person, I set about refurbishment in a logical fashion. Again, I won’t go into specifics, suffice to say that once the roofing, paving, and fencing issues had been taken care of, I needed to address the plumbing, electrical, and building matters.This all fell into place when I began frequenting a pub on the outskirts of the town. The pub and grill in town mainly catered for the tourist trade and generally closed by six o’clock in the afternoons. The local pub I frequented remained open until late in the evenings. Their food was basic but tasty. Best of all, however, was that the rough men of the area favoured this bar. Because of its rough nature, very few females accompanied their husbands and boyfriends.The owner, Bruce, was a coarse man and took no shit from the patrons. The occasional fights instantly got dealt with, and the men were always fearful of a ban that might accompany unruly behaviour.For me, the pub was like butch heaven, with the smell of testosterone permeating the place. Being hardworking farmer types, the occasional overtly masculine odours, were like an aphrodisiac to my gay heart. Their soiled clothing and calloused hands made me wet with lust. I naturally understood that the men were all straight, or so I thought, and so I was extremely careful. The old-fashioned steel urinal in the men’s toilet supplied me with a great deal of visual pleasure, and it always amazed me how cavalier the guys pissing were as they casually flopped their dicks about after a piss.           Although this was mainly a man hangout, occasionally free-range pussy also frequented the joint. At these junctures, it did not take long before an outdoor excursion followed after male generosity fuelled the women. This practice always alerted me to a voyeuristic wonderland, as I scouted the outdoor area for men fucking women hanging off the back of their trucks. Even the lack of illumination could isvecbahis not dim my enjoyment of panting females and grunting males. Often, these spectacles included groups of men, who did not mind batting on a sticky wicket. It was like watching a bitch in heat in a dog pound as I merged into the darkness.  It was at this venue that I finally encountered a trio of oddball brothers, who occasionally frequented the place. They were a sorrowful sight for compassionate minds, to borrow from Dickens.As I learned about their earlier lives, I got filled with compassion and intrigued. Their father who had died a year before had been a real bastard. When they were kids, he had beaten the hell out of them. The eldest, Harley, had endured most of his sadistic machinations along with his long-suffering, wife. She had finally made her escape when she when she got institutionalized several years before. In cohorts with her abusive husband, the boys had also mistreated her abdominally in unison with their father’s collusions. He was a paternalistic arsehole who had no respect for women.To the trio, women were there for male pleasure, and respect was non-existent. It was therefore unsurprising that the three brothers never married. Hank was the middle brother, and Cole was the youngest. They were all good-looking and sexy, albeit extremely coarse. I am not a student of behaviour but what always intrigued me was their body language. Whenever I saw them, their legs always twitched incessantly. From my rudimentary knowledge of mannerisms, this alluded to sexual frustration.Although the locals always greeted the brothers, they were not overfriendly and mostly avoided them, except for Cole. The brothers also were not invited to partake in the outdoor free-range pussy escapades, again except for Cole.A further bit of confidential gossip suggested that they were sexually brutal. They loved domination and had a reputation for manhandling females when they infrequently got lucky. Unlike the women of the region, this excited me enormously. The idea of these animals roughing me up gave me nights of masturbation fantasies as I dreamed of getting abused by these brothers.Harley was the skankiest of the three and always looked like he was several baths behind. Hank was less skanky, and Cole always looked like the ‘cleanest’ of the three. Cole was also the largest and friendliest of the brothers. He was at least six-foot-three-inches tall, unopposed to the two H’s who were six-foot-tall.Harley was the twitchiest and least attractive of the three. He was also the most regular visitor to the pub. Harley would often over imbibed and slur country and western tunes as he sat sipping beer. His visits never lasted too long.One evening as he moved closer to me at the bar, I could not resist inviting him back to my place for a drink.“We all know you are the village queer,” he garbled as he looked at me suspiciously.“Well, I can drop you off at your home,” I succinctly replied.“Thanks… Cole and I live in my dad’s isveçbahis giriş home. Hank has his own place,” he informed me.“No problem,” I assured him as we headed for my vehicle.Once on our way, he said, “Fuck it, I could do with another drink, let’s go to your place.”“No problem,” I excitedly answered.I had no idea why I was elated because I had zero anticipation but a maximum expectation. ‘Could this be my lucky night,’ I naïvely imagined.Once we got seated in my lounge, I boldly took things to a higher level.“Harley, you are a real stud,” I proffered.“Do you think so?” he replied with a churlish grin.“Sure,” I replied.“Yeah, you are fuckin’ hot,” I gushed.“I am not queer, buddy,” he countered.“I know… However, you are fuckin’ hot… I’m sorry, but I have to tell you,” I sheepishly enthused.“The fuckin’ women in this place are too stupid to realize that,” he mournfully replied.“Cock-suckers like me understand that,” I prattled, in a hopeful gesture.The look in his eyes illuminated with a lustful countenance as his hand rubbed his crotch.“Would you like to suck my dick?” he babbled in a bewildered rumble.“If you want me to,” I replied in a subdued whimper.    There was a confused dilemma on his face as he sluggishly pushed his trousers down.Harley did not have the largest dick I had ever seen, but it was a comfortable fit in my mouth. His uncut cock slid in seamlessly as he commenced grunting in an animalistic manner. His coarse hands battered the back of my head as his rigid dick tickled the back of my throat. The skull-fucking was heavenly as he screeched ecstatically. The smell of his heady crotch made up for the lack of size. His rough hands further added to my oral pleasure as they banged the back of my head and restrained the back of my neck.Unbeknownst to us, Cole was watching our action through my lounge window. Cole was protective of Harley who was on some or other medication, which I surmised had something to do with a bipolar condition. He had, obviously gone to the pub and learned that Harley had departed with me. Listening to the noise from the lounge window that was next to my front door, he peeped in to see Harley and me in full cry. I had no idea how much he saw, but he decided not to disturb us.Inside, things soon escalated to a higher level when I arose and offered my arse to Harley. Without pause, he summarily slammed his cock into my arse and commenced fucking me. An intense display of Harley’s rough predilection now got underway as he pulled my hair and slapped my backside hectically. This got accompanied by a tirade of verbal abuse as every homosexual slur he could muster rained down on me. I was in heaven as all my masturbation fantasies got fulfilled. To add to the drama, I played along pleading for my life, which excited him even more.When Harley finally unloaded, he did so all over my face as he smeared my head in his abundant jizz.As I looked up at his cruel sneering face, he commanded me to fetch him another drink.Afterwards, presuming that he isveçbahis yeni giriş was done, I offered to drop him off at home. My suggestion got met with a solid slap to my face before I was once more on my knees getting skull-fucked again. Both the head-bashing and later, anal assault, lasted far longer as I happily gave in to his primal machinations.What I did not realize, was that Harley was a sex maniac, and many more sessions were to follow. Even when we got to my bed, he continually awoke and fucked me incessantly. I was exhausted when I finally dropped him off at his home early the following morning.  After that, Harley frequently popped in on his regular visits to our local shop. On most of these occasions, he arrive for coffee, before getting ordered to my knees, Harley once more skull-fucked me. It was as if I had become his fuck bunny. It was fantastic, and although it was rough and raw with no emotional connection, I loved it.With my love life in high gear, I began to discern a difference in Cole, the youngest brother’s, attitude toward me. Unlike Harley, who now comfortably chatted to me at the pub, Cole observed me with a new intensity that made me uneasy. It was almost as if he knew something was amiss with Harley.One evening when Harley had too much to drink at the bar, Cole insisted on taking Harley home. Harley naturally became stroppy about this, but given Cole’s superior size and weight, the contest was short-lived.‘Oh fuck,’ I thought, ‘There goes my sex for the night.’Twenty minutes later, as I was nursing was last drink of the night, I was stunned when Cole re-entered the bar once more.With a smile, he occupied the stool next to me.“Harley’s fucked, and already sleeping like a baby,” Cole said with a laugh.I smiled in acknowledgement.“Another?” he asked visually gesturing to my beer.“No thanks, I’m done,” I replied.In his affable manner, he asked, “Shit, buddy, are you going to dump me?”“Well, I need a decent cup of coffee, which they don’t sell at the pub. I have got booze at home, so if you like, you can join me,” I challengingly offered.“Yeah… Why not,” Cole replied.Shortly, he followed me in his truck.Exciting as this was and unaware of his voyeuristic episode, I had zero expectations.After I had made my coffee and poured his drink, we sat in my lounge. Cole now bore his soul. I got the full lowdown on Harley’s mental problems, caused by their father. Harley, being the eldest by six years, endured the worst of their father’s physical abuse. He was indeed on medication and bipolar as I suspected. Hank, the best-looking of the three was the most secluded brother. He was remote and mistrustful. Cole, according to him was the most balanced and least damaged of the three. Although Cole did not elaborate, he alluded to the fact that his father had been a paedophile and accused of ‘fiddling’ with young girls. These charges had never stuck because the house cleaners had retracted their testimony after money had changed hands. After a riveting conversation, Cole ultimately supplied his coup de grace. “Paul, I am overjoyed that Harley and you get along so well.” He let his words sink in as I sat looking at him with a shitfaced grin.“I like Harley…” I tried to counter before Cole cut to the chase.

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