This is a mobile proxy. It is intended to visit the IOMfAtS Story Shelf on devices that would otherwise not correctly display the site. Please direct all your feedback to the friendly guy over at IOMfAtS!

Hunter's Lodge on the Osage

by Nicholas Hall

Chapter 4

"It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important" – (Sir Arthur Conon Doyle)

Morning came altogether too soon I thought as I struggled from my bed to greet the rising sun. Wearing only my string bikinis, I stepped out on the porch, looked toward the east, and thought "Ol' Sol" was struggling in a valiant effort to peek over the ridges and trees. Its faint rays seemed to trigger the forest birds into a melodic welcoming of the new day, trilling and chirping their happiness. My bladder was about to burst, so I stepped off of the porch to the yard, slipped my half-hard pecker out and tucked the elastic waistband under my balls, and dampened the earth, relieving the pressure in my bladder and lower abdomen. Dribbling to a stop, shaking my now flaccid, circumcised penis a couple of times to clear the tube, I murmured aloud, "God, how I love this place!"

From behind me, Wedge agreed; "I'm beginning to myself," stepped up next to me, fished his cock out of his boxer shorts, and began adding to the muddy spot I'd created earlier. This time, in the light of day, I got a much better look as his manly equipment. Uncut, flaccid at the moment while he pissed, with a nice foreskin he'd peeled back, exposing a large, pinkish, nicely formed cock-head, resting on a shaft of exceptional length and girth, even in its present state. The skin itself, other than the exposed helmet, was light brown, almost copper-brown, like the rest of him and the large vein, sending the necessary blood flow to engorge the member and increase the sensitivity to stimulation, running up the length of his staff was quite evident, but not distracting from the otherwise smooth, velvet-like appearance. The girth of his love-pole was in proportion to the length, but I imagined when fully aroused, would present a challenge to most orifices!

All of this set my thought patterns bouncing around in my head wondering if he was a "shower" or a "grower" since I knew there were some guys that looked big, but when hard, weren't! Me, I'm just average; what you see is what you get! Still, I was curious as a cat wondering what that baby of his looked like fully filled and ready for action, foreskin pulled back, stiff, throbbing, and spewing pre-cum from the end-slit!

Wedge grinned at me, fully cognizant of my fixed gaze on his penis, and calmly, quietly squeezed and jiggled the last few drops from the end of his tool, tucked it back in his shorts, and said, "Great morning, isn't it?"

"You damn betcha'," I replied. "I could wake up every morning, looking at the view."

He looked down at my crotch; I was as hard as a ten-penny nail and my five to six inch pecker was poking up just under the waist band of my bikini underwear. Blushing, I still didn't cover it up with my hands, but looked at his face and then off toward the sun again.

"I enjoy the view also," he added and walked back toward the house.

Following him into the kitchen, I asked Wedge, "I'm a tea drinker, how about you?

"Love it!"

"I hope you don't want green tea or orange-pekoe 'cause all I have is the black English Breakfast tea."

"With a little creamer of some sort, Jeremy, would be fine with me."

I busied myself filling the tea-kettle and getting the tea-pot ready. I expected Wedge to go to his bedroom and dress, but no- he sat down at the kitchen table, scooched it around so I had a direct crotch view, stretched those long legs of his out, exercised his shoulders a bit, and reached down and scratched his balls!

Damn, my hard-on would never go down! Those were one magnificent set of balls hanging down from his crotch!

"Want some help?" he offered.

The only help I really wanted now I thought wistfully would be getting that summer sausage of his up my virgin rear chute or wrapping my lips or hands around it.

"Nah; won't take but a minute."

Once the water was hot, I set the tea to steeping and wandered over to the fridge, opened it, and was trying to conjure up something for us to have for breakfast when I heard his chair slide and soon he was leaning over my back looking in the fridge also. The problem with that was his crotch was pressed up against my ass-crack, bringing a slight moan and wiggle from me and his warm, smooth, hairless chest rested on my back, while one arm circled my waist and with one finger, he tickled my belly-button.

"Why don't you get dressed," he suggested, "and let me worry about breakfast?"

Probably just as well, since if we did what I wanted him to do, we'd probably spill the hot tea-pot all over us and scald our rampant parts, so I reluctantly stepped aside and headed for my room. Evidently, while I was brushing my teeth, Wedge got dressed, and was waiting to use the bathroom when I came out. I stepped aside and with a wave of my hand and arm, turned it over to him. My offer was met with another smile; man, he didn't say much!

The tea was steeping in the small china teapot; half a dozen eggs were on the counter, and a small can of spinach and one of mushrooms rested there also. Wedge, upon returning from his morning oblations, prepared an excellent omelet to have with our tea, and it was all quite delicious. While we were cleaning up, he suggested we needed to make a grocery list.

"More than just a grocery list; since it appears we're going to be here for an extended time, we need to stock pile some of the staples such as flour, salt, sugar, dried and canned fruits and vegetables, along with condiments and spices. It wouldn't hurt to have some frozen meats in the freezer either."

I held my hand up, halting him; "Wedge, why don't you make a list of what we need in the kitchen and I'll do the same for outside such as gas, oil, and other things, okay? We don't have to worry about more than a month or two at a time until winter gets here, then it'll be different."

Strange, we hadn't even discussed living here together, but it just seemed natural that we'd do so. He appeared agreeable to the concept, albeit not saying either 'yes' or 'no' and so did I. We both had some prior history and familiarity with the Lodge, but not with each other. If I had my way, I'd become damn familiar with every intimate part of him, starting with that nice schlong he sported!

The big propane tanks were full so we had no worry there, but we needed gas for the push mower, ATV, chain saw, and small boat motor used to push the fishing boat now stored in the garage. Wedge also needed gas for his cycle, so I added that to my list. There were four six gallon plastic gas cans in the shed so I carried them to my truck and put them in the back. I checked and we needed regular engine oil as well as two cycle oil.

The wood shed was full, but I wasn't certain if it held enough for all winter, so I made a mental note to check with Grandpa about it and where I could get more wood if need be. All of the hand tools were in the shed in their proper place above the work bench. The rechargeable drills and other rechargeable tools needed to be recharged, which made me think of batteries for flashlights and small propane tanks for the gas pressure lanterns if, for some reason, the solar system or generator should fail, and for working in the shop after dark. We had plenty of mantles for the lanterns and light bulbs for the house.

Back in the house, walking through the kitchen, noting Wedge was on his hands and knees peering into a cupboard as he inventoried what was in there, and finally ended up in our small pantry. The shelves were fairly bare and well they should be; no one had been here all winter and we usually brought what we needed for the time we'd be staying.

Toilet Paper! Tooth paste, hand soap, dish soap, laundry soap; where would we do our laundry? The Lodge was not equipped with a washer and dryer. Besides, I was doubtful if the drain field could handle the wastewater discharge from an automatic washer, yet it just might since it was laid out in a strong gravel bed. It was all of those damn little things, those little conveniences I was used to and now didn't have, and we'd have to come up with solutions for. We just couldn't run to town if we were out. No, living out here was more complicated.

By the time I'd returned to the kitchen, Wedge was sitting at the table finishing his list. "I noticed," he began when I sat down to join him, "we don't have any muffin pans or bread pans, so we should get some. Homemade muffins and breads are easy to make and we don't have to worry about running out of fresh bread. Do you like cakes and pies? I know I do so we need a couple of pie and cake pans also, along with a couple of cookie sheets and a pizza pan."

Here I didn't think he said much! Wedge's list was fairly complete including the items such as flour and sugar we'd discussed before and then all of those little things I'd never thought of, such as yeast, baking soda, baking powder, olive oil, tomato sauce, oregano (pizza), vegetable shortening, powdered sugar, brown sugar, and on and on and on.

"What I have here," he explained, "would last us a couple of months or so and then we could replenish what we use. I've included powdered and canned milk along with some of ultra-pasteurized milk in cartons. These keep almost forever."

Apologetically, he continued, "This is going to cost three, maybe four hundred dollars. How about we go fifty-fifty on the food?"

All of his list didn't include the extras from outside or the items I thought we needed such as soap and toilet tissue. Wedge hadn't said how long he was going to stay, but I figured at least until winter and then he'd head out. His financial condition couldn't be that great, compared to mine, so why not let him hold on to what he had and use it when he left? If that was the case, I'd use up what was left, so I shook my head "no". When he objected, I said, "If you do the cooking, that'll take care of your share. I'm a lousy cook, besides I'm planning on staying the winter."


"For no other reason than to experience it; I've wanted to try it for several years and that asshole Harvey Wilson just made it possible. Besides, if he or Dennis get pissed and want to do me damage, they'll never find me here."

Wedge was quiet when I finished so I assumed he agreed. I hoped so since I really was a lousy cook and I'd welcome him putting his roast in my oven any day . I stood up, retrieved two big ice chests from the pantry and carried them to the truck; "for fresh milk, meat, frozen things that need to be kept cold."

"If you should see any bargains on fresh vegetables, pick some up, okay?" he added.

"Aren't you coming along?"

"Nah," he said with a grin, "I don't think there's too many black guys running around in the county so it's better if I just kind a lay low here. Where will you go?"

"Willow Run; it's about forty miles, but has some big box stores and a couple of super markets as well as one or two of those discount grocery stores. Thompson Corners is about fifteen miles or so in the other direction and it has a small grocery store, bank, hardware store, and post office along with some other small businesses. Thompson Corners is our mailing address. I'll have to run in one of these days and get a post office box. Can't say I want a mailbox out front on the road. It could only lead those jerks to me. Thompson Corners serves the locals and is good for a lot of things, but for a big shopping trip such as this, Willow Run is my choice. I'll be back after lunch."

As I climbed in the truck, Wedge touched my shoulder and with a strange look in his eyes, looked at me and asked, "Would you object to having company all winter?"

"Well, yes," I began and noticed his shoulders slump, "unless he was a handsome, young, brown man who can cook better than Julia Child."

Man that perked him up; he grinned from ear to ear, reached in the truck, pulled me about and gave me the biggest hug.

"Thanks, Jeremy; you won't regret it."

"I'll be back after lunch," I announced and drove up the lane, out to the road, and headed for Willow Run. It took until well after lunch before I finished all of the shopping. My ass was dragging by the time I arrived back at the Lodge. Wedge was standing on the porch grinning like a mule eating shit!

"Either you're happy to see me or you just got lucky," I chided walking up to greet him.

Giggling, he responded, "No such luck on the 'getting lucky' but I did borrow one of your fishing poles and we're having brook trout for dinner this evening, complimented by whatever fresh vegetables you found."

I was certain there probably was things I'd forgotten, but we could pick those items up next time or when we went to Thompson Corners. We each carried an ice chest to the kitchen. Wedge opened one and exclaimed, "Whoa!"

"Whoa what?" I responded somewhat alarmed.

"You must have hit the jackpot; there are beef roasts, pork roasts, some sausage, and probably thirty pounds of hamburger in here."

"Yeah; you'll notice they are all reduced for quick sale. The 'sell by date' was yesterday so everything was half-price or less."

Wedge smiled, shook his head, and wondered aloud if we had any freezer bags. I'd picked those up along with freezer wrapping paper, so we could divide and freeze the meats for future use. I figured it would keep us busy most of the afternoon so we left the meat in the ice chest until we could get at it.

The other ice chest contained fresh milk, eggs, butter, three dozen fresh eggs, a couple of pounds of bacon, and assorted fresh vegetables. We emptied it into the refrigerator (all in an orderly manner so we could find things, instructed Wedge). He liked things in their place and neat and tidy. I couldn't be a slob with him around, but I'm not anyway.

"Help me unload the gas, oil, and other things for the shop and then we can bring the boxed and canned food, along with the other household items into the Lodge. We can sort that all out once it's in there and get it put away."

Boxes of canned foods, dried foods, bags of flour, sugar, and everything else on our list were hauled into the kitchen and set on the floor. I also bought a twenty-five pound bag of potatoes and hoped we could keep them from spoiling before we could use them, but the price was right! I'd worry about a storage area later on for that. The basement would be a good possibility for that, I thought.

As we carried the last box in from the truck, Wedge said softly as we walked up the steps, "Jeremy, I've had a very uncomfortable feeling the last hour or so before you came home and now, that we're not alone and someone is watching us."

"Are you certain?" I asked just as softly, somewhat alarmed and now cautious, "Or is it just that bear and her cubs prowling around?"

"Don't think so!"

He was concerned and now so was I. Both of us had much to fear, from Harvey and company and the crooked cop, if someone was out there, perhaps to do us harm.

"Why don't you get us a couple of soda's," I suggested and we'll sit down on the porch and figure this out? While you do that, I'm going to load the 12ga shotgun and leave it just inside the door."

Casually, as if we didn't have a care in the world, Wedge and I each held our soda's, leaned back in our chairs on the porch, and chatted away, but kept a vigilant eye open to our surroundings. During a slight break in our conversation, I heard it; a snort, soft and low, coming from one of the old logging roads Grandpa had made, when he had some selective timber cutting done years before, leading from the clearing the Lodge was in back into the forests.

I stood and shouted, "Okay, George, you can come on in now!"

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead