By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
Artwork (c) 2004 by Vitaly

Illustration of Larruping [NOTE: I use the word "larruping" in its meaning of something you eat that is so tasty you lap your lips in a manner of a dog who's just done the same thing. I see online it has other meanings, but those meanings don't apply in this story].

I was traveling from my home in northern Virginia (a bit northwest of Washington, D.C.) to California, where I planned to live the rest of my life. So what was I doing in northern Alabama, driving some lonesome back roads in search of a cousin I hadn't seen in ten years? You can thank my mother for that!

My family had moved out of Alabama back when I was young, in search of a better job and better life. Trouble was, they kept going back again. To "visit the folks." Because "we should see Aunt Gerta before she passes on." These visits ranged from a day or so to months, when my father was out of work, because northern Alabama held kinfolk who didn't hesitate to open their homes to family in need. As the years wore on, those kinfolk became scarcer on the ground and the visits became more seldom.

But my cousin Jefferson was one of the few we had left down there. "Cousin" is a bit of a stretch, more than a bit. His grandfather and my grandfather had been first cousins. His father and my father had been second cousins. So we were third cousins. His family had a farm not far from my family's farm, so we'd been thrown together at every visit back to the old homestead. I'd tagged along after him during those visits, he was in his teens and I was half that, think of a seven-year-old pestering a sixteen-year-old boy and you got it right. That had been me. About the time I'd turned twelve and he'd turned twenty-one, the visits had ended. I'd asked about him for months, my mother reminded me now, when I was twenty-two and fresh out of college and ready to make a career. I should stop in and see Jefferson again, he was all alone these days on that big old farm, and could use the family.

I preferred to remember Jefferson the way he had been, a gorgeous hunk of teen with majestic muscles, tousled black hair that would never stay combed, and eyes that could cut right through me when he deigned to turn my way. I figured he'd turn into a typical Southern man like many do when they get older, become beer-bellied, bald-headed and foul-mouthed. Damn it, a man deserves to keep his dreams, doesn't he?

But I'd been talked into it and Mom had written Jefferson and told him I was coming (he didn't have a telephone, apparently), so I was stuck. If I didn't appear on his doorstep, the police would be sent out to search for me as missing and possibly dead. Southerners stick together so damned much, it can be downright embarrassing in times like this.

So I was pulling into Jefferson's farm driveway now and seeing the place looking silent and dilapidated. A single man on a farm meant for a large family couldn't help but get run down over time. Too much to take care of.

Then Jefferson stepped out of his front door, a large dog I'd grown up calling a "coon dog" at his side and I was dazzled all over again. Jefferson hadn't got to pot...he'd only grown larger and more luscious! Farm work had agreed with him, he'd put on even more muscle and now wore a mass of round globes all over his body under his skin. He gave me a broad grin and a wave, and I got out of the car feeling like I was seven years old all over again.

"Come on in, Harold!" He called to me. "I was about to fix some supper, wondering if you were going to get here tonight or not."

"I'd forgotten how far it was down here." I admitted, and he let out a loud, friendly bellow of laughter and I fell madly in love with him all over again. When people poke fun about Southerners being "kissing cousins," they don't realize that when we talk about such cousins, we mean people like Jefferson!

As I stepped up, the dog insisted on poking his nose into my crotch. Dogs do that, it's just that they work from smell a great deal and that's where a man smells the strongest. "Whoa, he's friendly, isn't he?" I said to hide my embarrassment.

"Yep, that's Traveler, he's my larruping dog." Jefferson explained.

Now, like any Southerner, I knew what "larruping" meant, even when spoken of a dog. When something you eat is so rich and tasty that even when you finish eating it, you keep sucking your teeth and licking your lips and such after, that's "larruping good" food. A second meaning when referring to a dog means that the dog is licking its chops after eating, the tongue slapping back and forth over the muzzle to cleanse the mouth area and teeth. But to flat-out call a dog a "larruping dog" was a bit of a puzzler. So I took the bait. "What makes him a larruping dog?"

"He's always licking on me." Jefferson said. "I come in from the fields and he's eager to lick my sweat off of me."

"Oh." I said.

"He loves to lick on me. In fact, I get undressed and in bed, sometimes he gets in bed with me and gives my balls a good tongue-washing."

"Oh, he does?" I'm sure I blushed bright red. I mean, he was my cousin and a lifelong friend, and Southerners tend to be pretty straightforward on all subjects, but I'd grown up in northern Virginia!

"Yep. Sometimes, he licks me so much, I end up creaming all over myself from his licking, and he'll lick it all up."

I gave up blushing and started laughing. "Okay, Jefferson, you win. I feel at home now! You and your larruping dog!"

"Pork chops be okay for supper?"

"Sounds good." I agreed and Jefferson went into the kitchen to prepare it.

Traveler turned out to earn his title. I sat down and sprawled out and he eagerly began to snuffle at my hands and wrist. Then he began licking. I unbuttoned my shirt sleeve and rolled it up and he licked my arm. Well, I had sweated a good bit on the long drive. The South isn't only hot, it's humid as all hell. Sweat in drier climates evaporates too fast to be a problem, but in the South, you sweat and then you have to live with the water on your body.

Jefferson came in and saw Traveler at work on me, and he advised, "Take off your shirt, give old Traveler full access. You'll never feel cleaner once he's done. That old tongue of his is better'n a Swedish massage."

I did take off my shirt and let Traveler work on my armpits, but I drew the line at Jefferson's crude suggestion I let him "wash my nuggets." Fun is fun, and letting a beloved coon dog lick your body isn't the worst thing in the world (you can shower afterwards, after all, but the dog that licks you this much is claiming you as his own and he'll lay down his life to protect you after that...hey, I didn't spend my childhood not learning useful things, folks!), but I wasn't ready to have any dog lick my balls, especially when and where Jefferson could catch me at it! Cousins don't hesitate to spread something like that all through your family on you!

I took the time to wash my upper body before going to the supper table, and Jefferson and I spent the supper and afterwards catching up on family. Southerners spend a lot of time talking about family, and while I didn't plan on keeping up the family connections so much in future, I was still a stockpile of information thanks to my mother's interminable conversations with family and her insistence on relaying it all to me. But I saw Jefferson lapping up the conversation like...

"Hey!" I said. "You put me in mind of Traveler."


"I'm telling you stories and you're lapping them all up!"

"Yeah." he agreed. "I should have kept up with family when they all moved away, I guess, but I've been busy. I do miss everyone, though."

"Larruping, huh?"

"Hey, yeah, it is." he admitted. And stretched. "Hell, I'm ready for bed if you don't mind. I'm going to strip down naked and see if Traveler is hungry for some tonight. You can have my parents' old bedroom, I made up the bed fresh for you yesterday."

"Okay, thanks." I said and watched him walking away. Pictured that pert ass in bed, raised up in the air with Traveler licking the balls for him.

Shit, I wish I was Traveler!

I gave up and went to get in bed, seeing Jefferson's bedroom door wide open. Traveler had made a bed for himself in the living room on the rug. I guess Jefferson wouldn't get a visit from him tonight.

Or would he?

Understand that I pretty much planned on this being my last contact with Jefferson. I wouldn't even go back home to Virginia that much. I don't hate my family by any means but sometimes life takes you on a different road from them, is all.

So what did I have to lose if I made a play for Jefferson tonight? If he got pissed, I could climb back into my car and drive to a motel for the rest of the night. And maybe, in the bedroom where he was used to a dog crawling into his bed, he wouldn't look to see if it was actually a dog working over his ballsac! I'd had a crush on Jefferson all my life, damn it! I wanted him, once anyhow, before I died!

So I waited about a half hour, and figured he'd be sound asleep. Now I had to slip in on hands and knees and crawl up onto the bed like I was Traveler, snaffle in under the covers and start licking on his waiting balls! Good old Traveler, he knew a good thing when he found it!

I was in luck, Jefferson hadn't even covered himself up, he was lying on the sheets with the covers all pushed over against the wall. I guess he had figured on a dog-wash of his balls. Well, he'd get one.

I slipped up onto the bed, hoping he'd not bother to look down. He was used to Traveler in his bed, and Traveler was a large dog, maybe.

"Yeah, come on, boy, Daddy needs his balls licked!" murmured Jefferson.

Yeah, he thought I was his dog. His legs spread out and let me get right in up to his family jewels!

"Come on, boy, give your Daddy a good licking! Get to larruping!"

Yeah, larruping! I had to lick Jefferson the way Traveler had licked me. I did, I began to lap at his balls in big, rapid licks, and Jefferson groaned.

"Oh, yeah, Traveler, give your Daddy a good larruping. God damn, I love my larruping dog! Larrup on me, boy, larrup on me!"

I did and Jefferson's cock grew and expanded until it was a tower of male majesty above me.

"Now lick my cock, boy, lick it up and down, there's plenty of sweet juice in it for you tonight, boy, lick it all out!"

I didn't need any encouragement on that, I greedily licked up his shaft, and there was indeed a nice rope of precome dribbling down its length for me. I slid my tongue up its length slowly, tasting that long rope, savoring it, oh, God, at last, at last!

"Oh, God, yeah, come on, lick it for me, come on, oh, God, yeah, lick it, Harold, lick it!" moaned Jefferson.

I licked it up and down again and then I froze. He'd called me Harold!

"Come on, man, suck it for me, shit, yeah, suck it good!" Jefferson groaned.

Well, like I said, I didn't have to face him for long afterwards, no matter how this turned out, it was temporary. I could behave like a whore tonight! So I rose up and sank my mouth over his cock-shaft and when I paused, his hands came up and forced me deeper.

"O-o-o-o-o-oh!" Jefferson gasped as I found his dong shoved into my throat. "Oh, shit, Harold! Come on, suck it for me, suck it hard!

Suck it? Hell, I couldn't move! I grunted, choked, and he let go and I rose up, coughing. "Oh, man!" I got out.

"Sorry, dude, I'm just so fucking turned on!" Jefferson apologized. "Shit, man, what the fuck took you so long? I thought I was going to have to come crawl into bed with you!"

"So why didn't you?" I asked, as I recovered.

"Sex in my parents' bed? No way!" He groaned. "I couldn't bear to sleep in that bed, much less fuck in it! My mother died in that bed!"

"Sorry." I said.

"Don't worry about it." Jefferson said. "Now get back to sucking my cock. You're sleeping with me the rest of the time you're here, and I'm going to keep you stuffed the entire fucking time!"

"Works for me." I said and sank back onto him and his hands again forced me deeper. This time, I was ready for it, though, and when he held me down, I just waited until he finished groaning and let go and then I rose back up slowly and began to nurse that big loving dong.

Hearing this big, loving man groan as I sucked him was nirvana to me. I'd lusted after him ever since I'd been old enough to know what my dick was for, if I could have grabbed him back when I was seven, I'd have sucked him dry back then. As it was, I was working over Jefferson at the age of thirty-one, and he'd just gotten more flavorful with the years. His musky aroma was enough to make me wish I was Traveler and could lick him anywhere and people would just laugh about it. Damned lucky dog!

"Ah, shit, I can't take it any more!" Jefferson moaned. "Turn around here and let me get hold of yours!"

I couldn't believe my luck. I hastily scooted a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn and Jefferson grabbed my legs and pulled me out straight which put my legs up against his headboard, I had to bend them at the knees, but then I was on top of him and his mouth and hands dug into my briefs and pulled my dick out and then he was scarfing it down. And I mean the entire fucking way! He'd been trying to make me deep-throat his cock, and now he was doing mine without half trying!

That gave me the inspiration to try again to take his cock down further. You can do it, once you master the angle and your own gag reflex, your throat gives up after a while and then it's like your throat acts like your mouth, as long as it fits inside, it doesn't care!

Nothing is more wonderful than slow-sucking a man who's slow-sucking you, and both of you are taking each other deep! Your ecstasy grows slowly, like building thunder in your brain until it's a rumbling presence that shatters your very soul, and you are sacrificed on the altar of climax.

And that's how I felt when my pleasure broke through into orgasm, when I moaned and ejaculated into Jefferson's suctioning mouth, and his own groans as he sucked down my jism crescendoed and he blasted geysers of hot jizz upwards and I gulped greedily at it, at last, at last, my boyhood dream made real at last!

When his orgasm finally ended, I suckled the last dregs free of his cock and then scooted the rest of the circle so that I could lie by his side. He let me into the soft, warm circle of one hairy, smelly armpit, and I breathed in that aroma and I said, "So when did you realize it was me instead of Traveler?"

"Hmmm? Oh, I knew it all along."

"Really?" I was puzzled. "But I licked your balls just like Traveler would."

Jefferson rose up and looked me in the face, then burst out laughing. "Oh, man!" he gasped after a while in which I went from puzzled to downright hurt. I mean, this was the laugh you use when someone is being an idiot! "You really thought I had my dog licking my balls at night?"

" said...."

"Hell, any dog will lick you some, but I don't let Traveler in my bed at night. And I've never stripped down and let him lick my balls, ever!"

"But then why'd you tell me he did?"

"Hell, man, I had to figure out some way to get you to slip into my bed with me. You've been mooning over me ever since I can remember. So I just set it up so you'd climb in and hope I thought you were a dog!"

"But I...I...." Now I had to laugh. "All right, you got me!" I said. "Too bad I have to go on to California, man, we could have a hell of a time here."

"When do you have to get there?" He asked me.

And he had me there. I didn't have a job waiting or anything, I was just moving and had to get there before my money ran out. I told him as much.

"Hell, stay with me and you don't have to spend no money." He said. "You might even find a job you like nearby."

"I'll give it some thought." I agreed.

"And I'll keep you busy every night while you think." He went on.

"Going to work me hard, eh?"

"Going to work you like a dog." He agreed. "Like a big, larruping dog."

"You're worth larruping on all right!" I snuggled in to Jefferson's warm, warm embrace. I may never leave north Alabama again!

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