Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Fathers of Time II


Those who have Seen Man’s Rise and Fall

Fantasy equal: Odin

Sometimes you stumble upon an image of a more mature man. You think he looks good for a guy with a beard/moustache and some grey patches of hair here and there. This is when you’re reminded of your childhood, when you think back of your friend’s dad or a teacher at school whose appearances were kind to your hungry eyes.

A couple of memories flash through your mind:

You think back of the couple of days you spent in hospital after you crashed whilst racing on your mountain bike. You knocked your head and had some bruises and scratches, nothing worthy of staying in the hospital, to your reckoning. You are rather thankful you have though, thanks to the stranger you shared your room with.

You were all alone in your hospital room watching television at eleven the first night. You were watching a Jean-Claude van Damme movie when you noticed from the corner of your eye someone walking passed your door. A moment later he returned, leaning against the doorframe and watched the movie along with you for several minutes without saying a word. The movie stopped playing for a series of irritating adverts. You made eye contact during this time and the middle-aged stranger spoke, “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m sharing a room with an old man who is continuously asleep. I don’t want to wake him by turning on our TV.”

“If it’s okay with the nurses, you’re welcome to stay here and watch the movie. You seem to be a fan Jean-Claude,” you said.

“I do enjoy a good action movie now and again. Thanks for the offer, I’ll take it!” said the stranger.

You watched him as he walked passed. He was an attractive man with short, grey hair, a well kept beard and rather tall with an athletic build. His butt was exposed from the untied patient garment (those flimsy ones you to at the back) he was wearing and from what you could see; he let his body hair grow naturally, including the ones that grew up towards his butt crack. You quite enjoyed the quick glimpse of him and were looking forward to when he leaves again.

He laid himself down on the bed next to yours. From quick discussions during ad breaks, you learned his name was Johan, a cattle farmer on the outskirts of town. He was submitted to hospital from exhaustion and dehydration, from working too hard, he admitted. He was doing fine, but the doctors said they wanted to keep him another day or two for observation. He said they’re only keeping him there to make more money off of him.

You noticed he was one of those people who lived themselves into a movie. He reacted to what he saw on the movie by changing facial expressions and making sudden movements with his body, like cringing when Jean-Claude dealt a bloody high kick. His attention was fixed on the TV, which gave you chance to survey his physique.

You remember how your attention moved from his massive feet, across his tree trunk legs to the bulge at his crotch. He folded his one leg over the other, which raised his blade and pommel gems. You could make out its shape since the garment the patients wore was rather thin. His blade laid extended over the lower part of stomach. You pinched your escalating blade between your legs for things were becoming rather hot in your hospital room. It is at this moment that a nurse entered the room. She gave you such a fright, that your blade was released from its vice, which sent it flopping upwards, making your woody totally visible beneath the sheet you had drawn across your body. Thankfully the nurse did not notice this. Your friend, however, did. He smiled at you and distracted the nurse so you could recover.

“Nurse, may I move to this room instead? My friend and I seem to be... likeminded. Both of us are night owls. We can watch late night TV together without disturbing the others,” Johan asked.

“Sure, I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Make sure to fetch your stuff before tomorrow morning, in case someone else takes your old spot,” the nurse replied before asking how you were doing.

“I’m okay, thanks” you muttered.

The nurse left and closed the door behind her. After her visit Johan showed little interest in the movie. He told Jean-Claude would have made him hard as well if he was a teenager as well with hormones in overdrive. You tried to deny it by saying you have a thing for the nurse. He burst out laughing and told you you must have a jack in the box for a blade and a strange taste in women. He told you to relax and not to deny what you were and how God has made you. You found comfort in his words.

Johan slowly inserted his hands underneath his garment. His blade in the meantime had swollen and had grown to its full glory! He pushed his blade forward as to have it towered and stuck against his garment as yours had been. You watched him as he drew back his garment and stroked his blade slowly, up and down and gently initially. He spat in his hand to use as a natural lubrication. Ever since then you did the same. Shadows of various colours from the TV danced on his body as Jean-Claude battled his enemies. It was magical.

After some hesitation you started tugging at your blade as well. It was not long before Johan reached his climax. Three or four spurts of his nectar blasted from his throbbing blade. The first hit his chin, and the subsequent spurts embedded themselves in his chest and stomach hair. He rubbed his nectar into his torso as he watched you. You gasped for air as your blade attempted its money shot. You shot a couple more spurts than your elder fellow all across your blossoming chest.

The next day you became unlikely friends and did the same that night. The day after you left the hospital, never to see him again.

--~~oo00oo~~--

You think back to that one summer holiday, when the whole family on your mom’s side came to visit during the week of Christmas. Those were the days when shaving was not so new and didn’t enjoy doing this manly thing any more.

You removed all your clothes and started shaving before your shower. The whole family is to head on over to the local casino’s restaurant. Tonight is the seafood buffet and you’re so gonna kick everyone’s butt by eating the most! You were half way through shaving when someone knocked on the door. It was your aunt’s (mother’s sister) new boyfriend, Wikus. You quite liked him. He was like a boy in a mature man’s body. Rather playful and cheerful. You had loads in common, including PC games, jogging and the outdoors. He spent more time with you than your aunt!

You shouted that you were busy, which didn’t keep the person from entering. Reflexively you covered your wickets and peered at your probably future uncle with a stunned facial expression.

“Good, it’s you,” said Wikus as he closed the door again. “I want to take a bath before we head out to the restaurant. I have sand in places I don’t want any sand.”

He opened the taps and started stripping. You tried with all your might not to look at him and to shave faster. At that time you were at a stage when the sight of any naked male made you trigger-happy. He was done undressing and took a seat on the bath’s rim while waiting for the bath to fill up. He looked at you and gave you a slap on the butt.

“You’ve got a heart shape birthmark on your right butt cheek. How cute,” he said.

“The ladies love it,” you respond, not knowing where that statement came from.

“Ha-ha! I bet!” Wikus responded. “I have one on my inner thigh. It’s not a cute little heart like yours, more like a splatter of bird poop. Wanna see?”

You hesitate for a moment, but feel you have to look, which you did. You had seen him shirtless on the beach; tanned, tall, dark and handsome. He looked amazing for his age. You turned around. Yip, Greek god indeed. You hardly noticed the birthmark, as your attention was fixed on his blade. It’s the first one you’ve really seen up close other than your own and quick glimpses of those of your straight buddies. In the centre of a brush of pubic hair his blade and pommel gems dangled, full and happy. This sent your hormones in overdrive, which triggered the happiness of your blade. It’s too late now...

You quickly turned around to conceal your rising blade from him, closed your eyes from shame and tried to tame your heavy breathing.

“Oh, my boy. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. I have this effect on people,” Wikus said giggling. “And between the two of us, there’s nothing wrong with a little male to male adoration.”

“You mean you’re gay?” you asked Wikus.

“No. I like the best of both worlds, if you get my drift,” said Wikus.

You turned around with a confused facial expression. You asked him how being bisexual worked, since he was involved with your aunt. He mentioned that they were mere friends, friends with benefits and that nothing would ever come of their friendship.

Wikus drew closer and tugged at your blade. His blade started ascending to meet yours in its glory. You were stunned and did not know what to make of this situation.

“We need to take care of these before we leave here. Can’t go out poking everyone and everything in your path,” Wikus said. Clean your face so we can get to it...”

You were shocked at his suggestion and were afraid he would get his way with your behind or something! You were barely finished when the already jerking off Wikus led you into the bath where both of you took a seat on its rim opposite each other. Your legs were submerged in bubbly water almost up to your knees. You remember the water was rather hot, amongst other things. Wikus splashed water over his blade. He smiled at you after he sent a wave of water towards yours. You admired each other as you both jerked off. You enjoyed his masculinity and manliness and how he embraced his blade with great enthusiasm. First he tugs with a forehand, then backhand, then both hands, then he played with his pommel gems and so it went on. He certainly knew how to wield a blade.

Soon you feel the nectar well up in your pommel gems. Your breathing grows heavier and the tip of your blade grows even harder. Uh-oh, what now?!

“Let it go!” Wikus exclaimed eagerly.

You did as he asked. Like a cannon your nectar was shot from your blade. You were rather proud of it, you now chuckle to yourself. The first spurt went flying up in the air and made a crash landing on Wikus’ left knee. The remaining spurts delved into the foam surface of the bathwater. This sent Wikus to his climax. His cannon surpassed yours in power as two of his spurts crash landed on your right quad and knee. He must have held his at a better angle, you now realise. You were rather fascinated by the warm and sticky nectar on your leg. You smiled and Wikus returned the gesture.

“Come on, we should finish up. Almost time to beat you in an eating contest, just as I have beaten you just now”, you remember him saying. He did beat you in the eating contest that evening as well, needless to say. You still had some growing up to do at that stage.


Mythology of many cultures have a father figure of sorts. Where it is Zeus for the Greeks and Jupiter for the Romans, it is Odin for the Norse. So this collection is dedicated to the all-father of the Norse deities.











"In Germanic mythology, the one-eyed deity of battle, magic, inspiration, and the dead. The elder son of Bor by the giantess Bestla, Odin was ‘supreme as well as being the oldest of the gods’. Writing in the thirteenth century, Snorri Sturluson, the outstanding Icelandic scholar and statesman, thus endeavoured to account for the rise of Odin during the Viking period (750–1050), when the war god took over many of the functions of the sky god. ‘He had his way in all things. Mighty as the other gods may be, yet they all serve him as children do their father.’ Odin was Alfodr, ‘father of the gods’; Valfodr, ‘father of the slain’; Veratyr, ‘lord of men’; Bileygr and Baleygr, ‘shifty-eyed’ and ‘flaming-eyed’; Glapsvidir, ‘swift in deceit’, Fjolsvidr, ‘wide in wisdom’; Farmatyr ‘god of cargoes’; Oski, ‘wish giver’; Sidfodr, ‘father of victories’; and many more ekenames, nicknames, given to Odin ‘for something he did’."

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