Horny Old Bugger

by Nigel Kent

A very short story by Nigel Kent, 18 November 2001, and finished, 01:37 PM, [written while stuffed into his favorite 4x6x8=2stager and thinking about an American buddy, a singular, jungle beast if ever there was one] and also inspired by and in response to so many of his latest e-mail correspondence.

"MANY A PUMPER'S TALE...and man, just how it can be realized."
[NOW 10 YEARS ON...after he'd first begun into pumping...this morning's thoughts.]

Stupidly, he now thought just how he'd been, oh yeah, the silly fucker, he'd stubbornly resisted the idea of having a computer for years.

Man, just couldn't see the point of it, and really didn't think that he'd have the free time to sit glued at a screen. It's just another picture screen. So what, and then his friend had suggested, yes, but it was more than that, had actually bought him one. An attractive, well designed thing, right up to the minute, the latest windows, [his trusty word processor, abandoned, stuck in a corner, had now become an obselete thing]. Truth be known, these days he was almost loathe to turn the damned thing off. An American buddy had actually congratulated him for allowing himself, at long last, to being dragged into the 21st century.

Rapidly he'd picked up on the technical stuff, and was soon to realize that he could easily pump his packet while surfing around, which certainly spiced up his daily regime never switching it on without being fully stuffed into his favorite two-stager tube. Working, perving, pumping, taking lots'n'lots of pix, pumping, pumping more and all that swelling up, plus all the extra jacking, the wanking, the working on his tool, "keeping it toned" he told himself, and even now, had considered to increase the size of his beloved PA, to the next size up, 10mm indeed, yep, he'd already ordered that, and counting the days down when he'd slide the thicker ring in, right on in thru his piss-slit, securely screwing its heavy'n'solid balls on. OH YEAH MAN, just the very thought of the extra weight of his new barbell ring gave him much more than a mere stirring, down there in the lusty pit of his gut.

OH YEAH, he's a horny old bugger allright!

Now, at long last, it had been verified, yep, he now knew for sure that there were other horny pumping guys, yep, and too right, lots'n'lots of other vacuum pumpers, oversexed blokes like him, scattered thru-out the world that were in exactly the same situation as himself, daily pumping up their packets in quiet isolation, and such huge and bulging packets there are too, a pervert's delight, hornilly bulging in all manner of tight slips, shorts, jeans and whatever, hairless, swollen naked jewels [what a ridiculously quaint word that is], oiled, greazy, cock-strapped and buckled, steel/rubber-ringed if ya's will, man-handled, groped or loosely swinging to this way'n'that! OH YEAH MAN, sure there they were, judging by all of that increasing mass of correspondence, and photographs galore, that he'd been exposed to in the most recent of weeks.

Yep, sometimes he'd even considered to give up this passion of his. This, a quite extraordinary passion, if truth be known, this quite astonishing perversion. OH YEAH, this his secret life, well it wasn't so secret really, after all, didn't he go out of his way with his extravagant and exhibitionistic behaviour. Loosely-tight, in all the right places, his rough'n'rugged industrial jeans, [boutiques, forget it, street-markets are best], yep, his greazy'n'roughened crotch, hunkily bulging to far-out proportions, Oh yeah buddy, he's a man's man, struth no, matey, there's no doubting that.

Still yet now daily in they flood, those welcomed letters, those lusty letters, as just maybe, like the pick of some crazed'n'bizarre connoisseur's collection. How he now hungrilly collects them. Dicks, dicks, dicks, every shape and size, and balls man, yeah balls man, the variety is staggering, and to where these guys are going with their hot'n'heavy perverted minds, their amazing extremes, to points of overwhelming and unbelievable sizes. But enough of this salivating, let's get on with the story, and be damned if we don't.

........yeah, and cigarettes a'plenty, cup of coffee too, this his little daily routine, checking out his comforts. 7am, the usual time for him to take stock of the previous days pumping, a quirk no doubt, but he enjoyed it all. Had installed a mirror in his comp'-pump-room, yeah had installed it so that it displayed a face-less torso, in fact all crotch or packed-packet, if you will.

Gropes his packet greedily, grundges it 'round-about, oh yeah man, what a great feeling, then tugs his shorts down, kicks them right off across the floor'n'ya little beauty, there his packet is, free, shaved-to-naked and swinging, freely flopping out, yep, sure, it all kinda bounces, bounce-flops out.

Now checks out the swinging of his nude, stretched rocks, all that skin man, they're even longer this morning and how they fall and tumble and then lustilly strokes his tool to outstanding fatness, and certainly not forgetting, he lovingly runs his PA thru and thru, oh yeah again'n'again and so on back'n'forth, his mind's in a state. Right there, there's those dribbling pre-cum juices. He's ready allrighty. A 2hr stretch this morning he'd decided last night while he was getting well'n'truly'n'thoroughly blown, yeah man, his buddy's an expert alrighty. Knows exactly what to do and just how to drive him half crazy, and last night, what a load it was, like it's on the increase daily, gallons they both think.

Hmmm! Still greazy from last night. He's a fuck'n proud pig. The very sleaze of it. Those bulging, horny, yankee shorts, such a roomy basket, oh yeah, lucky accidental find, last few trips to his local street market, adds three pairs of shorts a week, collection growing, and the woman, how she stares straight down at his crotch, his bulging packet, and he thinks she's a horny dyke with penis envy, and so what, very friendly tho' and she knows his size, it's like as tho' she's expecting him, greetings with, "I know your size buddy, extra large...Yes...What color this week?" And how she's so friendly and really wants to help him make his choice. It's the nearest that she'll ever get to his well-packed'n'unashamedly bulging packet

Now he takes up a great scoop of his home-made gundge [actually looks like a pot-full of solidified cum] and works it all in'n'round the length of his shaft and every millimetre of his flopping sac-skin. All glistening bright, he's sure damned ready, knows for a fact, no doubting that, that this is his actual, solo-sexual fore-play, too righty, and that it goes on every waking hour, why even in his sleep judging by all of his latest horny dreamings.

Now his lust-stiffened tool, unbending'n'fat, bared nob too, with its shining PA kinda, like some kinda mascot, it's there, thru piss-slit 'tis jauntily thrusting and down there, where those two solid rocks a'gleaming ...plenty'n'ready, he now picks up his tube, expectant...almost urgent, and YEP BUDDY, it's his favorite tube, [fact is...he's had to set-aside all the others, 'his packet's size increase' and buddy ya knows just what that means] and gradually works the whole of himself in, sometimes thinking that it's a damned fine place wherein to view his packet, like some kinda special glass-cased museum piece, look but don't touch.

STRUTH MAN!.....Is there really a don't touch lable?

The comp'-room is suddenly filled to every distant corner, with a loud and echoing CLICK! YIPEE! He's attached once again, it's almost like some kinda umbilical cord, and now for the first pull, then another and another, here comes the pressure as it drags himself in, tighter and gently tighter, he knows his limitations, yep, two hours will do it, two hours are just fine.

He looks down from his screen, yep. there's his dick's shaft all solid and fat, like it's tightly snuggled, and yet there's that extra something, lots more than that, yeah buddy, there's lots'n'lots of loose riffling skin, like its all wave after curling, greazy wave, from end to end, nob-end to hilt end, and let's not forget the dribbling.

Allready, his egged rocks, this man's balls, to say Emu-sized would be an exaggeration, but sure man, the fuckers, they're growing bigger!....bigger!. ...BIGGER!, well egg-shaped, fully rounded and fuller-expanded, nearer to enough for his expectations, and all of that increasing lust, deeply-seated in the pit of his gut, sure mate, he knows exactly to what point and to where he's going.

OH YEAH!!! A bizarre showcase this man-scape. Therein encased, those two sacked orbs, greater now and by now, skin-taught and deeply gleaming. Stiffer mounted with much furrowed flesh more, but even much more than just stiffly mounted, his rampant tool rides high-to-higher point score. How often he muses on those Belgian jeans of his, his favorite 'Bogarts', that have pockets so deep that they seem to go on forever, certainly way down below his long'n'swing'n ballsac. OH YEAH!, like he can scoop the fuckers up and of course, unashamedly, he quite often cruises along, hands pocketed, fumbling with his PA and working himself up to a more than just humpy, three quarter stiff dick, counting other guys packets as his cruising's rewards.

And now, yep, that's two hours, he's had enough.

Gently, a click, he lets the air free, and freely escaping, slowly slides his packet out, and out!, and out!, and then suddenly, IT ALL FLOPS OUT! Hot air hissing out! Fat dick and huge rocks!

Oh, all this wonderous fumbling! Sizing himself up. This packet of his, he sure wants to do his load, ya knows, but he won't. Its cruizing he's a'thinking, and so well'n'truly cock-strapped, he packs himself in.

"Now there, yeah, there, just take look at that!" Donning on his oldest leather jacket, he's thinking to himself, pushing hard-down on his jean's belt, "SHIT! what a fuck'n bulging, horny basket! Yeah mate, those bulging, horny jeans there, button-flied, [one of the buttons he'd deliberately torn off] and all crumple-carelessly-torn, [just in the right places] and smeared, so 'twould appear to an experienced eye, all covered, all gundgy with yesterday's grease and last month's pumping-sweat, man what a fucker you are! Let's go see what we can meet."

Eyeballing himself up for his own approval, and with one helluva solid grope to his bulge, he says out loud to himself,
"OH YEAH! Sure man, you're fuck'n ready for it allrighty." and passes out, thru the door.