It Happened On Manhunt: Easing In My Country Boy
This is another one of those cases where the pictures accompanying our weekly It Happened On Manhunt entry fail to capture the intensity and boner-inducing qualities of the original story. We dug through our archives to track down this hidden gem from back in August, sent to us in response to this tale of a man and his doctor. It’s a good one! Trust us.
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Photo credit: COLT Studio Group
Click through to read this member’s story and see more pics:
Great story this week. Nice love story, but how about just an incredible hook-up? Like the guys in your story this week, I am also from the South. I have also always had a soft spot for a nice-looking, slow-talking rednecks, even though I am a college-educated professional. A lot of guys in the South like to claim they are rednecks, but they’re really just good old boys. There’s a hell of a difference!
About six months ago, I went onto Manhunt horny as hell. I’d been divorced for about three years, hadn’t dated much, and hadn’t hooked-up with any guys for about six months. In fact, I hadn’t even had sex for six months, not counting my morning jerk before I went to work.
I started talking to this one guy who had no pictures in his profile. Part of the attraction was that he was about ten years younger than me, 23 years old, and partly because he said he was from the country. After talking for about two weeks, he said he was coming into town to visit friends and wanted to know if I’d like to meet. We made plans.
After waiting for almost half an hour, to the point that I was almost ready to leave, he finally showed up. Dean looked even taller than he told me — 6’4″ — had an incredible body, lean and muscular, and he was handsome as hell. The only thing that gave him away was his accent, which was pure country South Carolina, and the camo ballcap with the requisite fishing hook on the brim.
We talked for a while and then he abruptly said, “Let’s go.” I walked him to his car so he could follow me home, and he drove an honest-to-God Ford F-150 beat-up truck with a gun rack in the back. I immediately got weak in the knees.
When we got to my place, he seemed a little ill at ease. I gave him a beer, which he downed in no time. I kept feeding him beers and talked while he relaxed a little. Dean had dropped out of high school in the 10th grade, worked odd jobs to support himself and fell in with the wrong crowd. Eventually, he served about 10 months in jail for a drug offense. Now, on his sixth beer, he proudly told me that he had been “sober” for over three years. I guess that only applied to whatever drugs he was on when he was younger.
The crazy thing about this guy is that he was the most honest person I’d ever met — no bullshit, no agenda. He summed up his life by saying that the only things he was really good at were “fishin’, fightin’ and fuckin’.” Seeing an opening, I asked him if he wanted to take things up to the bedroom. He got a little nervous and blurted out, “Like I told you before, I ain’t never been with a guy. I don’t kiss, I don’t know if I can suck a dick, and I don’t take it up the ass.”
I had to take charge once we got to the bedroom, since he was totally out of his element. I told him to kick off his shoes and socks, and just relax on the bed. I slid next to him and slowly started to run my hands over his body, not going for the goods too quickly, so I wouldn’t spook him.
Then, I unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his nice pecs with large hairy nipples, the dusting of fur on his chest and an incredible treasure trail that disappeared at his beltline. After working his nips with my fingers and tongue for a while, I decided to go for it. I unbuckled his belt, undid his jeans and slowly pulled them off of him.
Since he wasn’t wearing any underwear, I was immediately greeted by the sight of his fat, uncut cock and the biggest set of low hangers I had ever seen.
I buried my face between his thighs and lapped at his sweaty balls with my tongue. He kept saying softly, “Oh, yeah, that feels good. That feels real good.” After tonguing his cock and getting him worked up, I sucked that dick like it was my last meal on earth.
When he said he was getting close, I pulled away and finished him off by hand. The first shot of his load hit Dean on the cheek, with the rest drenching his chest and furry stomach.
I got him a towel to clean up with, expecting him to be getting dressed and making a hasty departure. Instead, he was kicked back on the bed, still naked and downing the last of his beer. He asked if he could have another and I went to get it, but he jumped out of bed and said he would do it.
While he was gone, I took off my clothes and laid down in bed. He looked a bit surprised when he came back and saw me naked, but he just handed me a beer and slid onto the bed next to me, cutting his eyes every so often to sneak a peak at my cock.
Finally, I just had to tell him, “Listen, you don’t have to sneak a peek to look at it. It’s not going to bite, but it may spit a little.” Old joke, I know, but he laughed, put down his beer and gazed at my body for a long time, complimenting me on what great shape I was in.
After about ten minutes of watching TV and drinking our beers, I could see his hand slowly moving toward me, first resting on my thigh and finally grabbing my cock. He played with my dick and balls and looked genuinely amazed that he was holding another guy’s junk in his hand.
I reached over and started pumping his already hard cock, enjoying the smooth glide of his foreskin over the head of his dick. He looked me in the eyes and softly said, “Is it okay if I cornhole you?”
I almost laughed at that term, which I hadn’t heard since I was about 12 or 13, but I merely told him that he would have to take it slowly at first since it had been a while for me and that he absolutely had to wear a condom. Once I was relaxed and gave him the go ahead, that redneck was right—he was good at fuckin’.
We fucked for about half an hour in various positions, until he drove it home with me on my back. Dean jerked me off as he fucked me and filled up that condom with his creamy man juice. We fucked once more that night and again in the morning before he left to go back to his friends’ house.
Well, that was our first hook-up about six months ago. Dean comes into town every few weeks and spends the weekend, always bringing some venison, fish or whatever else is in season. By now, I’ve gotten him to do two of the three things he said he wouldn’t do with another guy, but that, as they say, is another story. I’m hoping with a little more time, I can get him to do that one last thing! Thanks, Manhunt!