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    The clink of glass against glass woke me from my reverie and I sat up, my head still muzzy from the heady mix of liquor, poppers and sex. Bob was pouring himself another bourbon from the bottle on his desk in a pool of light cast by the antique desk lamp. His face was in semi darkness but the desk lamp showed up his hairy thighs in sharp relief and his large deflated penis drooping down over that long scrotum.

    It looked wrinkled and a bit sad now, especially when only a few minutes before it had been standing proud and erect, forcing out jets of thick grey-white cum from those gigantic balls. His body may have lost the grace and beauty of its youth but I think that by gratifying himself with my youthful, hairless body had added to his pleasure.

    Bob went down the short corridor towards the bathroom and I heard him urinate noisily into the bowl. I gazed around the office, taking in the familiar scene: the wall covered with a rainbow of different colored prize cards and rosettes; at the Winchester 'yellow boy' carbine that I coveted, and at the bank of high-tech equipment on a shelf by the window.

    There was the low rumble of the flush and my uncle reappeared. He had left the bathroom light on and was silhouetted in its glow as he stomped back along the corridor. With those long dangling balls swinging from side to side as he walked, he looked like a shambling great bear on the prowl and I couldn't contain my laughter.

    "What's so funny, Bub." He growled. His voice made me think of bears even more. "Nothing" I said between a fit of the giggles. "I've just never pictured Smokey Bear looking like that before!"

    We began to exchange cheerful insults. "OK, OK, funnyman. Let's see if you can 'cum' like that when you're my age, you one-shot wonder! I can make it again anytime you're ready -buster!"

    I could never resist a challenge, especially one that promised still more pleasure, so I boasted. "One-shot wonder? Huh! I'm like that cistern in there. You can almost hear my balls filling up again!"

    But despite our brave words, neither of us was really ready yet, and in any case, I rather enjoy that lazy satisfying time recovering from a good jerking session, so I tried to change the subject. Pointing to a bank of small TV screens on a shelf, I said "They're new."

    "Yeah," He walked over to a small console by his desk and scratched his furry chest before adding. "We had some guys stealing from farms in the County a while back, so I got a company from Berneville to come out and install all this. -Here, I'll show you." He pressed a few switches and the screens flickered into life.

    Pretty soon I began to make out familiar scenes round the yard and the main buildings. Bob was fond of gadgets and lost no time demonstrating how he could pan and tilt the cameras, adjust the lighting and even record on to tape for later playback. To be honest, I was beginning to be sorry I had asked, but something Bob said made me prick up my ears;-

    "..I've kept these cameras secret -no one else even knows they're there." His voice dropped low so that I had to strain to hear. "And you'd be surprised at what some guys get up to when they think no-one else is around!"

    "Too damn right, Unc.!" I agreed. "Look at the pair of us!"

    He laughed with me, but then he started to look uncomfortable and I got the idea that he had let slip more than he meant to. Since our first encounter by the pool, I had noticed a subtle difference in his manner toward me; the bluff 'uncle to nephew' act he had always put on with me had toned down one helluva lot, replaced by...just what? He was now treating me as an equal -like a fellow conspirator in some great secret.

    Yes, that was it! I suddenly realised that the same thing had happened with Dad.

    It was as though I had somehow been initiated into some great campus secret society.

    The liquor had loosed my tongue so I asked bluntly.

    "So what do you mean by 'guys getting up to things'?"

    It's hard to fathom how anyone could look any more embarrassed than when they are standing in front of you butt-naked, but Uncle Bob gave it a real good try. A look of pain passed over his face and he muttered. Oh,.you know."

    "I don't!" I persisted. "Whaddya mean?.Wanking? Fucking?.What?"

    "Let's leave it be, shall we? I don't think you're ready for it."

    "Bullshit! Here we are dressed only in our skins, recovering from one of the best jerk-offs I've had in months and you say I'm not ready? What else is there for chrissakes? Anyways, If you don't tell me, you can solo jerk for the rest of my visit!"

    'Blackmail, even' My little voice joined in. 'Whatever next?'

    Blackmail or not, my argument seemed to work, for Bob took a deep breath and after a long pause for thought, finally said.

    "You know I asked you about Peter?" I nodded, encouraging him to go on.

    "Did he try to do.anything with you?" I had to think quickly but I reckoned that it was OK to come clean. Bob must already know something about his Native American foreman that I didn't -or why did he bring it up now? I took a deep breath and lied in a matter-of fact way.

    "Sure, we jerked each other off .It was great. I enjoyed it." He looked surprised and a bit envious that I hadn't wasted much time in getting it together with his foreman. "Why do you ask?" I enquired with fake innocence.

    He seemed lost in thought and it was a while before he drew a deep breath and started on his tale.

    "One night, a while back, I left the cameras running in the barn. There was a mare about to foal and I wanted to keep an eye on her as she was getting close to her time. She didn't foal that night, so I rewound the tape. That was when I saw something strange as the pictures whizzed by -It was Peter in the barn."

    "So what?" I enquired. "Knowing him and his horses, I expect he was keeping an eye on the mare too."

    "No way." Said Bob, sounding like Perry Mason at the end of a case. "He was leading another mare into a loose box." He paused for dramatic effect adding slowly. "And..he was stark bollocky nekkid!"

    "Wowee" I said, but my voice was husky with excitement. This was really gross, but why was my cock getting so stiff? I couldn't stop myself from asking. "Did you keep the tape?"

    "Dam' right I kept the tape" Said Bob. "Although there wasn't much more to see since the camera only covered the corridor. I checked the timestamp on the tape and it was about 20 minutes later before Pete came back into view, still as naked as a baby. He drew some water from the faucet and washed himself down and.."

    He paused to see if he still had my full attention - He sure had!

    "He made damn sure to see that his prick was clean."

    I was fondling my cock by this time as he was telling the story, and I could see that it was having an effect on Bob's hardware too. That big square-looking cock was steadily rising from its forest of curly gray hair and pointing towards me as he looked to see my reaction to his tale. Somewhere in the house a clock chimed and I mentally counted the strokes -there were eleven. It was late -very late for this early-rising household and I hoped that Bob hadn't noticed and bring an end to his fascinating tale. I doubted that I would ever get to know the end unless I could keep his whiskey-fed eroticism going.

    "Have you done anything about it since, Unc?"

    A faint smile -almost a leer -changed his expression. We were fellow conspirators again. Dam' right I did!" Again that leer. "I moved the camera and I keep the tapes running every night since then!" He went over to a gray filing cabinet, his stiff dick pointing the way like some obscene banner. If I hadn't been so aroused myself I would have laughed at the ridiculous sight.

    There was a dull rumble as the drawer rolled forward and Bob fingered his way along a row of tapes and pulled one out. Sliding the black plastic cassette out of its cover he inserted it into the slot of player.

    The screen came to life showing a row of horses standing quietly in their stalls. Bob had spared no expense and unlike the small security monitors, this picture was bright and crisp -and in full color. Bob picked up the remote and came over to sit beside me. The tape speeded forward until he stopped it when the timestamp showed 22:45. The date was about three months earlier. After a minute or so the real action began on the screen.

    Peter came into the barn and walked up the aisle checking each box as he went. The horses watched him with lazy interest as he passed them by but it was clear from his purposeful step that he had one particular horse in mind. Bob had done his homework well and the camera zoomed into close focus as Peter stood almost underneath. The sound was muzzy and picked up a lot of extra noise but we could hear Peter's deep voice muttering little endearments as he nuzzled his head against one particular horse. "That's Lucy May," growled Bob in my ear.

    For a long time, Peter nuzzled and patted the mare's head and I could see that she was relishing the attention. He moved away slightly out of shot but I could just see him slip off his buckskin jacket and hang it on an old lamp bracket. He drew his shirt over his head and his long ponytail disappeared through the collar hole only to reappear cascading down the magnificent back I had caressed only a few days before.

    I had been too interested in the action taking place before me to think about myself, but I becoming aware of a dull ache in my balls. They had been licked, sucked and fondled by Bob earlier -they had even taken a beating from his last crazy masturbatory strokes. Now, as they regained their potency, they were letting me know they were ready for more action. I glanced quickly over at my uncle: He was leaning forward, entranced by the sight of Peter slipping out of his jeans -this time there was no black jockstrap to spoil the view, for he wore nothing underneath them.

    I didn't know it then, but he had different riding in mind that night. You may think me naive, but don't forget that I was a city boy and knew nothing of bestiality -I wasn't even sure that it was possible for a man to have sex with animals. What was taking place on the screen was totally new to me and I was hooked! There was a snick from the soundtrack as Peter unclipped the mare's headstall from the rail at the front of the box and gently shooed her hindquarters round so that she stood almost square on to the camera. He left the box and returned with a straw bale from the stack by the door, which he placed behind the mare's hind legs.

    All his preparations made, Peter began to stroke the mare's neck, slowly working his way down her chest towards her forelegs. All the time he was crooning softly to her in words I couldn't make out. From the slow repetitious rhythm I guessed it was a love song or lullaby learnt from his Indian mother. Lucy May turned her head round towards him and I could see her nostrils twitch as she sniffed at his naked body. Peter gave a short laugh as her whiskers tickled his side and turned towards her questing muzzle. I gave a gasp as I watched her long pink tongue came out to explore him and saw his balls lift and drop as she licked the salt from his sweaty groin.

    Peter arched his back in sheer delight, which gave us an even better view of her licking at his dark brown cock, just like a kid with a candy bar. A long gasping groan came from beside me as Bob took in the scene. Uncaring of my presence, his eyes were fixed on the screen while all the time he kneaded and tugged at himself, totally engrossed in the scene being played out before him. Peter seemed to be close to a climax and it took an obvious effort of will for him to pull away from the mare's questing tongue, but he stepped out of her reach and stood back for a while, recovering.

    After a time, he squatted down and stroked the mare's belly, close to where I could just see her two black teats. As he fondled them, the muscles of her leg twitched and she straddled her hind legs wider, making an easier for those searching brown hands to explore between them. Peter was in no hurry and it took several minutes before he started to work his way steadily upwards between her wide straddled legs.

    She responded by lifting her tail like a flag and letting loose a stream of yellow urine. Peter rebuked her gently as he retrieved the wet bale. The damp floor was not to his liking, especially to his bare feet, so he placed the bale in a dry spot at an angle to the wall. For a moment I thought we wouldn't get to see any more and I slumped back in my chair, disappointed, but I soon leaned forward again with a jolt as I saw that Peter had turned the mare's hindquarters so that her haunches almost faced towards the camera lens.

    I could hardly believe our luck when the camera refocused to a shot of the mare's leathery vulva glistening with a stringy clear discharge. Her vagina twitched a few times then seemed to pout, exposing its pink inner surface as though it was winking. Bob leaned towards me and cleared his throat, "She's telling him she's ready." He whispered hoarsely.

    The tall Native American stood for a while, working furiously on his dick, bringing it to its full hard size before he stepped up on the bale. His body shut out our view for a while but when the mare shuffled sideways a step or so, we could see that Peter was teasing her, slipping his hand right inside her up to his wrist, thrusting it back and forth in a steady rhythm as old as time itself. Lucy May held her tail to one side and humped her back in time with his thrusts, seeming to relish her human lover's attention.

    He didn't fail her and withdrew his hand, only to replace it with his rampant dick, sliding it in and out deeper and deeper with each slow stroke until his balls were squeezed tightly between their two bodies. He gave a long deep groan and the muscles of his buttocks began to clench and release as, slowly at first, then faster he began to pump at her willing rear end. A minute or so later and it was all over: Peter gave a series of loud grunts and his legs twitched rapidly as he found release. Totally spent, he collapsed forward over the mare's haunches and lay there with his chest heaving.

    His panting seemed to ease and he straightened his back slowly until I saw his cock slide out of the mare and drop limply onto his scrotum. The muscles around the mares vagina relaxed and she expelled a string of Peter's sperm, leaving a row of pearly drops trapped in the tiny hairs fringing her long leathery slit.

    I felt a chill on my leg and looked down in time to see a steady stream of my own sperm tracing a path down the leather seat of my chair towards the cleft of my butt. Worried that I might mark Bob's favorite chair I looked over at him in time to see him perform a real neat trick: He had pulled his long ball-sack out as far as it would stretch to catch his cum in the hollow it made between his two balls as each pulsing jet splashed off his cupped hand. In our excitement, we must have both shot our cum in time with Peter, but neither of us seem to have noticed, so engrossed had we been in watching his dramatic climax. Uncle Bob stood up, still holding his ball-sack out like a hairy cup, and rummaged on his desk for a pocket pack of Kleenex. He tore the film wrapper open with his teeth and threw half of the contents at me and we began to clean ourselves up.


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