Uncle Daddy’s Mountain Moonshine

Brad had driven much further up Mount Two Timbers canyon than he had expected and was starting to get worried that he was lost on the twisted forking roads. He couldn’t call anyone because his phone wasn’t getting reception.

Then he finally rounded a bend to see a weathered paper sign stapled to a pole near a grassy trail. It had an arrow pointing down the train and read, “Uncle Daddy’s Mountain Moonshine.” He pulled down the trail and found a mobile home parked in a small rocky field. He parked his jeep.

Brad knocked on the door, but there was no answer. There were sounds of a very loud football game on what he pictured to be a staticky bunny-eared television.

Brad knocked a little louder. The sounds of the game got quieter, footsteps walked toward him, and the door swung open.

A bearded man with short curly hair stood towering over Brad, “help you?”

Brad found it difficult to find words. The last thing he expected was for someone to answer the door wearing nothing but a ragged pair of boxers. The man had a thick carpet of brown hair covering his slim, but muscular, chest. Where there wasn’t thick hair on his body, the man was covered in a series of black ink tattoos: death’s head moth, skulls, daggers, a toaster, a kitten, roses, and so on, all standing out amongst striated muscle and thick ropey veins.

The slit in the boxers blew in the breeze and Brad found himself staring directly at it. The man looked back at the game on the television as the announcers began to speak louder and faster. He looked back at Brad, still staring, and started to close the door.

“Oh, uh… I’m here to pick up the order for Helen. Moonshine. My fiancé. She ordered a case of moonshine for our wedding.”

“Ah,” the man said, looking back at his game, “Ricky ain’t here. You can wait inside,” he walked away with the door hanging open.

Brad took the steps up into the home and closed the door behind him. There was a faint scent of stale cigarettes. The man sat down on a creaky recliner and cracked open a beer.

“Sorry I’m late,” Brad said as he sat on the couch. Something crunched and he pulled an empty chip bag out from underneath him. He set it gently on a wobbly coffee table. “I took a couple wrong turns finding the way here.”

The man took a swig of his beer and rocked back in his chair. He didn’t respond to Brad.

“I’m Brad, by the way.”

“Tuck,” the man said. His boxers stretched wide as he rocked the chair with his feet, revealing a dark shaft of skin.

“Nice to meet you Tuck. Is Ricky Uncle Daddy?”

Tuck grunted.

“Will Uncle Daddy be long?”

“Pass the fuckin’ ball!” Tuck leaned forward in the recliner and yelled at the television. He then rocked back again and shot gunned the remainder of the beer before crushing the can and throwing it at the screen. His cock flopped out of the boxer slit.

Brad couldn’t help looking at it. It was thick and it had a foreskin that pulled over a shiny head; it wasn’t hard and flopped in a curve down his inner thigh. Tuck scratched at his balls, letting the shaft bounce. He didn’t adjust it back into the boxers.

“You talk a lot,” Tuck said.

“Oh, I, don’t want to be a nuisance. I can wait in my jeep if you need me to.”

Tuck cupped his cock and pulled his balls out of the slit. He let them flop in his lap while he shook the semi-floppy cock back and forth.

“It ain’t going to suck itself,” he said, keeping his eyes on the football game.

Brad felt his own pants get a little tighter and he awkwardly stood, trying not to appear too eager, and (as casually as possible) found his way onto his knees in front of Tuck. He stuck his tongue at the tip of the foreskin and pushed it back, caressing the head of the cock and letting the foreskin squeeze against his tongue.

Then he felt Tuck’s hand against the back of his head, and he was pulled down on the cock until it was dangling down his throat. If it went any further, it was liable to cut off his airway. He took a deep breath filled with the musk from Tuck’s bushy pubic hair. Brad’s eyes rolled back in his head with the pleasure of feeling the smooth shaft fill his mouth and get thicker and harder.

Brad began to move up and down on the shaft and Tuck slapped at him with his free hand. It was a decent shock, but it didn’t hurt. Brad liked it.

“Stop. Just suck, I’ll do the work,” Tuck said. He kept his hand against Brad’s head, holding him in place, as he began to lightly thrust. Brad ran his tongue up and down the series of veins that pulsed as the Tuck grew harder and harder in Brad’s mouth. Brad gripped the tight calves on Tuck’s legs.

Tuck put both hands on the back of Brad’s head, wrapping his knuckles together and squeezing. He did a couple deep thrusts and grunted at something the announcer said about “going long.”

The front door squealed on its hinges as someone else entered the room. Brad started to lift himself back and off Tuck’s cock, but Tuck held his head tightly immersed in his bushy fur.

“Hey, Ricky, clients here,” Tuck released a hand so that he could point at his crotch. He simultaneously blew a creamy load that drained his balls down Brad’s throat. He curled over Brad with a moan, hairy chest dripping sweat on Brad’s cheek as he squeezed and grunted.

“Hey Tuck, are the Mountain Goats leading?” The voice was deep Baritone.

“Two-point lead.”

“GO GOATS,” they said in unison and high fived.

Brad swallowed the last drop of cum as he pulled off Tuck’s cock. He wiped some drool from his chin and stood up.

Ricky was sitting down. He was leaner than Brad had expected, especially for the baritone voice, and had a black mustache to match the tuft of black hair that stuck out from his backward camo ballcap.

“You must be Brad,” he unbuckled the overalls he was wearing over a bare chest and slipped them onto the floor. He was only wearing a jockstrap underneath and bulge stretched the fabric like a kielbasa. Black hair burst from the sides and trailed up to his belly button. It continued into a small patter of hair on his chest. The black hair of his chest matched the black hair of his thick mustache.

“This isn’t an add on service or anything. We don’t charge for this,” Ricky pulled his cock out and shook the hard shaft back and forth making the head wobble, “get back on your knees.”

Brad obeyed without hesitation. Ricky wasn’t veiny like Tuck had been, or as thick, but he was lengthier. Each thrust into his throat made him question his gag reflex.

Tuck snapped open another beer and handed one to Ricky. Ricky took a drink while taking slow thrusts. He grabbed Brad’s ears and angled him up look into his eyes, “you like this cock?”

“Mmhm.”

“You like this man cock inside you?”

“Mmhm.”

“Look at me. Don’t look away.”

“Mmhm.”

“Now take it all the way down. I want to feel your lips against the base of my cock.”

Brad took a breath in and out, in and out, in and… he slid down, feeling Ricky’s cock slip past his tonsils. Ricky’s fingers remained gripped on Brad’s ears.

Brad’s cock throbbed in his briefs.

Tuck stood up and swigged his beer, “Fuck yeah. Score! Mountain Goats win! Suck it East City Arctic Moose!”

“Yeah, cuz!”

“GO GOATS!”

Ricky lifted a hand into a high five and Brad started to pull Ricky’s cock out of his mouth, thinking they needed to celebrate.

“Did I say stop?”

“No Sir,” Brad said and pushed back down on the cock.

“Tuck, you want in on the other end?”

“Yeah, cuz, I could go again. My balls fill fast.”

“Go ahead and unzip your pants. Let Tuck take a celebration go on that end.”

Brad balanced his chin on Ricky’s dick while he unzipped and struggled to pull the pants over his thick ass.

“I got it,” Tuck said, pushing the coffee table out of the way and yanking at Brad’s jeans. His briefs remained in place. Brad felt a tug near his tight ass at the same time he heard a tear of material. Tuck sucked popped a finger in his beer soaked mouth before pushing it into Brad’s ass through the hole in his underwear.

“Tight, buddy.”

Brad ran his hands through Ricky’s chest hair and flicked at his nipples. Tuck pulled his finger out, spit twice on Brad’s pucker, and pushed his veiny erection inside. His hips connected and pubic hair pushed into Brad’s smooth cheeks.

“He’s harder now than when he blew in my mouth,” Brad thought. Feeling every inch of hard veiny cock push in and out.

“Uh, I’m going to cum,” Ricky said, grinding his hips into Brad’s face. Brad grunted as drool dripped down his throat and onto Ricky’s crotch.

“Do it, cuz, I’ll go at the same time.”

Both Ricky and Tuck moaned; Ricky in baritone and Tuck practically howled like an animal as he shivered with anticipation. They both came in unison, high-fiving one more time.

“Alright, Brad, let’s finish up shop,” Ricky said.

“You weren’t what I expected,” Brad said.

“Uncle Daddy is just a brand name. I’m an entrepreneur,” Ricky said. Tuck went back to his recliner and began flipping through channels.

Ricky pulled his overalls up over his chest and pulled a phone out of the breast pocket, “here is my Venmo. Go ahead and send the payment there.”

Brad fumbled getting the phone out of his pocket and scanned the account. He typed out the payment and hit send.

A little ding sounded. Ricky smiled, “Thank you, great doing business with you. I went ahead and loaded up your moonshine crates in your jeep before I came inside…”

“You,” Tuck burped as he lifted a beer and cracked it open, “have a good time at your wedding. Mazel Tov!”

“Think about us for your liquor needs at your next event. We cater. Phone number is included in the venmo receipt. Drive safe getting back to East Town.”

Tuck took off his boxers and tossed them at Brad. He sat back down naked, his drained and limp cock still fat against the fabric of the chair, “take these, sorry I tore your underwear.”