Caveo silens lupus.

Discussion in 'Fictitious Stories' started by Rugbypup, Dec 2, 2010.

  1. Rugbypup

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    Part One - Introductions.

    We’re told over and over again not to worry about things in life, not to fear for fear's sake or dwell on the mistake we have, or are about to make. Yet every man worries about the size of his cock, the depth of his credit card bill and whether or not slapping the misses porno style really was a good idea.

    Life is too short, seize the bull by the horns, you could step out tomorrow and get hit by a bus. Such platitudes are ten a penny and arm chair psychologists are as prevalent as the clap in Birmingham. Bollocks to far off wars, debt drowned economies and the ever present TV ad charity begging bowl, get out and get a life. Live, everyone else seems to know how to, why not you?

    I’d heard it all my life.

    Well on the face of it, getting a ‘life’ sounds like a piece of piss but as with so many things it seems, it couldn’t be further from the truth. Ironically enough, life itself is more often than not the biggest obstacle in the pursuit of getting said ‘life’ or at least the life we want.

    I always took a little solace in obscure facts like the two stroke engine doesn’t work on paper, yet it does in reality and likewise the bumblebee shouldn’t be able to fly but does so happily. But these wore thin when after 32 years my two stoke riding bumblebee of a love life which remained grounded and clamped, regardless of faith in the efforts I made. Not even so much as earning a dirty wink from even a lecherous perv from the corners of the dankest clubs.

    Perhaps it’s only when we truly stop looking left and right and stop giving a shit, that tomorrow arrives without a word while we meandered out like fat pigeons, right in front of the bus we were all warned about. However... the bus that twated me so unexpectedly, was in fact... a wolf.

    Early twenties, about 6’7” tall, dark short hair, ruggedly stubbly, built like a bit of a brick shit house and hazel eyes that seemed as intimidating as they did gentle. A wolf of a man. That odd mix of obvious strength and reservation that lesser men seek to challenge to affirm their own insecure masculinity and that women find unexplained, yet sexually threatening in all the right though denied, crotch dampening ways. Somewhere between the pin up pretty boy and blue collar lumberjack resides your man next door type, an average Joe that’s anything but. The wolf, none of that over confident, cocky bull shit and none that the gentle giant shit either. An honestly masculine man.

    I’d always admired Wolfie men from afar, undressed them with my eyes to reveal a fantasy of broad shoulders, thick dark hairy arms and legs, big feet with the all important hairy tops all gym sweat fresh and a cock fashion by the Gods of Greece themselves. A large soft length that you can only guess at how much it swells, thick although perhaps a little too thick, and a mushroomed head that’s round, blunt and forceful all nestled on a set of balls that are so full they must ache for release constantly... dreamy sigh.

    Such men have an absolute animalistic air about them that’s so... male, which also just so happened to be the complete epitome of what this particular pup, all be it through years of mental self flagellation, scars and all, had come to realise was the ideal yet unobtainable man.

    But that’s just it, I’m a pup. Somewhat small and inconspicuous, early thirties, too shy and cynical for my own good, painfully inexperienced and frankly, awkward in many respects. The closest the Greek Gods ever got to me, was on a novelty key ring after a summer years ago.

    Such wolves never notice me, I think they are designed not to, except perhaps to shoo me out the way with a menacing stare in the supermarket. Such a wolf could have any women he wanted, whether he, or she for that matter, knew it.

    So imagine my surprise when this wolf, all 6’7” of womb raiding masculinity bowled up to me and said, of all things, hello. I was deeply defensive and suspicious, I mean he said ‘hello’, to me! What the bloody hell does he mean by that, what does he want, am I gonna get my arse kick here? I’m bristling with the best fuck off vibes this pup can muster but again a hello, and a smile.

    This time I can hear a deep voice with a distinct down under accent. I’m still blinking like a rabbit in the head lights, shit he has nice teeth, but managed to scrap enough neurons together to defend myself with the most cunning of replies, “Hello”. What I didn’t realise was this wolf had my scent and was determined to hunt me down. Slowly, patiently, persistently over the months of developing friendship he would wait until he had me firmly by the scruff of the neck in his jaws to be carried off to his den and claimed... as his.

    To be continued.

    If you’d like to know how the story unfolds, please post, but be gentle, this is my first story.
     
    #1 Rugbypup, Dec 2, 2010
    Last edited: Dec 2, 2010
  2. Contour

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    I like it, Pup! Can't wait to hear more of this intreguing tale. ;)
     
  3. Woody110

    Woody110 Active Member

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    You have a nice style. I'm looking forward to more.
     
  4. D_Bing_Cherry

    D_Bing_Cherry Account Disabled

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    Great start. Your writing has a nice tone. More please.
     
  5. jockstrapfetish

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    I have to agree with the previous post its well written,nice tone and I hope there's more to come and soon
     
  6. ConnerM360

    ConnerM360 Active Member

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    Great start! Very descriptive.
     
  7. conclave27

    conclave27 Member

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    Great grasp of the predator and prey style, love the imagery you using... keep it up!
     
  8. Contour

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    Its quite well written and descriptive. Very vivid imagination you have ;)
     
  9. chugsybby

    chugsybby New Member

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    Very good imagination:) Would love to see where you go with this.:)
     
  10. Rugbypup

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  11. kundalinikat

    kundalinikat Member

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    Please continue. This had better be about werewolves :D

    Also, Moonstalker is a swell artist!
     
  12. Rugbypup

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    Part 2 – God and hairy feet.

    I remember being twenty one.

    For most men it’s a great time of exploration and social development. To have a close circle of friends to drink with or laugh and fight with. The sort of friends you know forty years later and reminisce over the stupid shit you did as then ‘kids’, and survived. It’s kind of expected that sports will be your religion and that anything with boobs, that wasn’t too fat or related to you, was the object of a near semi permanent hard on and inexplicable lust.

    Assumed ubiquitous to the true, young, red blooded male, though this wasn’t quite the case for me.

    Having to face the suspicion that I was quite possibly ‘a gay’ was frankly a little traumatic. It was a deeply isolating and terrifying thing to have to cope with, to hide and I was very ill equipped as a young man to mentally tackle, grasp and heaven forbid, accept something inside myself that I knew to be true, yet was so wrong in the eyes of all those around me.

    Men... normal, real, men... all seemed to naturally subjugate ‘the gay’ to ridicule and disgust, be it serruptiously, privately or even jovially, not forgetting directly and aggressively. Gay men are abominations, even God is said to have a bit of a distain for them, flaying them in the pits of Hell for all of eternity, that sort of thing.

    So imagine my dismay when instead of boobs, thighs and pussy, the only image I could not clear from my mind every 5 seconds, or when it is men as supposed to think about sex, was my then best friend’s big, sweat and hairy feet.

    Quite simply they were beautiful and what the fuck was wrong with me for thinking that?!

    Perhaps it was admiration? That’s it, good old fashion, wholesome, admiration. It’s not gay to admire a friends physical qualities, it isn’t queer, is it? One man can tell his friend he admires his big muscles or his height? You can still marry a woman and have 2.4 children and still think such thoughts, can’t you? Well, yes, I suppose you can, but when you find yourself daydreaming about the best way to offer him a foot rub, then it seems there might be a little more at play.

    Soon it wasn’t just his feet, soon it was everything about him and that just wasn’t right. So, intentionally and purposely, I took hold of this innocent little man crush I had developed and with all the ferocity and pious hatred of the witch hunts of old, I chose to destroy my friendship with my best friend. The logic, stifling any hope of emotion, was clear and resolute, remove the source of the problem and the problem goes away. That’s how you treat horrific inflictions like cancer, gangrene or gayness, cut it out, sterilise it, remove it... and I did.

    Our fight, was verbal and painfully short.

    It seemed to make such sense at twenty one, but time grants many opportunities to dwell on our pasts. It seems the truth was, it was better to have him hate me because I was a total bastard to him, that ever to have him turn his back on me and walk away from in repulsion. Like I said, the stupid shit you did as then ‘kids’, and survived... well, it doesn’t necessarily mean we survived unscathed.

    You can not live, and not get scarred somewhere along the way and he was one of mine, and even now on cold days, my callous self inflicted scar still aches a little. I take a certain reassurance in the thought that I surely wouldn't cross his mind today and that he's happy, in all avenues of life since then.

    But anyway, I walked home very alone on that night, though now quite some time ago and in my misguided despair, I remember looking up at the cold and clear winter night and stopped to look at the endless view of stars. No moon, no clouds, just the starts and one very pissed off and hurt pup.

    That’s when I thought, God, I know you can hear me, I’m a dirty faggot and I’ve got questions to ask you. Will it always be this way? What’s wrong with me? If I’m broken then you made me this way, for what reason? Am I that bad? What did I do? Tell me, and I’ll fix it I swear!
    The broken heart of an ordinary yet seemingly unloved young man poured out towards the beautiful and unwavering stars.

    If you don’t answer me, I know you’re there and if you don’t answer me then I know you made me this way to be cruel and I will never, never waste another second of my life on the compassion you have not shown me.

    The star are very quiet you know and I went to bed that night and felt a little more unclean and broken.

    Morning came and it transpired that a friend from up north had sent me an early birthday card. Innocuous enough although it had a quote on the front from Rainer Maria Rilke, an Austrian poet as it happens, though I had not a clue who the fuck he was.

    To anyone else reading it, would have been an utter crock of meaningless dribble. Not too dissimilar to the kitten dangling from a branch posters with ‘Hang in there’ written across the bottom, I’m sure you know the one I mean.

    It read...

    “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer.” Rainer Maria Rilke

    It seems God has a sense of humour, even if it takes years for us to get the punch lines to the comedy. That night I think he really hear me, and my duly demanded answers came bright and early the following morning, of all things, in the post, care of Royal Mail, on the front of a bloody postcard, I shit you not.

    It took me a long time to be OK with myself, but I started to mend from that day forward and by the time a twenty one year old wolf of a man found me, all he’d see if he looked hard enough would be the hair line cracks where compassionate superglue holds together the fragments of a wound a silly pup inflicted on himself, many, many starry nights ago.

    It turns out however, best way to give a wolf with big, hairy sweaty feet a foot rub is to do just that. After all, big hairy feet seem to have always been my thing... they really are beautiful you know. J
     
    #12 Rugbypup, Dec 5, 2010
    Last edited: Dec 5, 2010
  13. Contour

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    ... Part 3 :)
     
  14. Rugbypup

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    Part 3 – The Near Miss.


    It’s a bit of an odd feeling, to go from never some much as getting a raised eyebrow to being the being object of someone’s attention. The wolf in question happened to live a little way away from me, but this didn’t seem to deter his pursuit of me, in fact he spent a whole year hot on my trail. Subtly he let me become accustomed to his presence, flirtatious gestures and even his outright innuendo. We chatted and talked, even argued a little though not so much as to walk away unresolved, to say he has a little bit of a temper when provoked is fair enough.


    Big men who seem a little hot headed sometimes are always a touch attractive though. An aggressive streak, that he can defend himself physically and by extension protect you, being under such a man’s protection is really hot, it fires off all sorts of submissive thoughts and feelings in us pups, that’s for sure.


    My first reactions where to ignore his forthright approach, cheeky bugger, he was ten years younger than me after all. We’re all spun that horse shit that age doesn’t matter, but it kind of does. Too young or too old and I think there is a real chance that you’re at too different stages of life and sharing your experiences would seem to wash over the other as either trite and meaningless or dull, old and boring.

    However, he still always seemed to be there, even keen and eager to know a little more about me or for I about him and gradually, I didn't notice my age or his very much at all. But it just must have been too much for him to hunt from a distance and so he arrived late one Wednesday evening having checked into a local hotel he text me, ‘I’m on my way’.


    To say I was more than a little nervous was an understatement, I lost track of how many times I had to pee before leaving to meet him. I had been sharing some fairly intimate things with this man, more so than I’d ever done before and there was always an element of safety thanks to the distance, but now that was gone. I decided, tonight will be just a hello, just a time spent with, to get to know each other in person, nothing more.


    It was dark but a pleasant summers evening out as I walk through the small city to find him. Seemed odd that I barely knew him in person and then he all but whistles for me and I’m padding across town to him. I really hope he’s not a psycho in person, after all, what do we really know about someone from a text message, even when they do number into the hundreds by now.


    As my thoughts ran unchecked I hadn’t noticed the man walking down the road opposite me and ‘man’ would be the operative word. It took a second of looking up before I noticed the smile looking down at me. Shit he was big, like proper huge, I kind of expected it knowing he was 6’7” be the top of my head just reached his nipples I’m sure. I suddenly find myself somewhat coy and overly calm, a bit like when a big dog you don’t know approaches you.


    Fortunately instead of sniffing my crutch, he stuck his hand out which easily enveloped mine and we greeted each other, there, in the middle of an empty road.


    Awkward small talk ensued, followed by a movie or two but we soon found each other comfortable in each other’s company. He filled my tiny apartment and his dominance if not his masculinity, was tangible as one of the first things he did, was to kick off his shoes and then does no more than to pull his socks off and let his big feet rest and sprawl across my carpet. They were easily the size of a 1.5 liter drinks bottle, I mean the man had seriously big feet, his nails were trim and well kept and the tops were covered in a course dark brown man hairy. His ankles, strong enough to support his huge build, were as thick as my knee and his shin, never mind the enormous calm muscle was the length of one of my arms and equally hairy as his feet.


    He’s doing it to entice me I’m sure and I’m desperately breathing deep in hope of catching his scent as we sit next to each other on the end of my bed watching movies. I was resolute in my decision, just a get to know you I reminded myself, nothing more. My caution, though not cold, must have also been as equally tangible as he held his instincts at bay and continued to be just a mate, for the moment anyway.

    All too soon we run out of films and I find myself all but kicking him out of my small home. We said our goodbyes like almost close male mates departing, his disappointment was obvious but we both knew we had a whole day to spend with each other tomorrow.


    After closing the door I sit on the end of the bed where he was sat, it was so warm, I placed my smooth, size 8’s where he so decisively rested his paws and it felt warm also. A whole day I thought, what can we do? Then I realised we would have a whole night too and my mind began to fill with all sorts of things.


    I hoped I would be braver and ask him to stay, I hoped I wouldn’t have to and that he would tell me he was going to stay. I slowly drifted off curled up where he had sat, not quite getting his scent on me but close enough for a cautious pup and a first encounter.
     
    #14 Rugbypup, Dec 6, 2010
    Last edited: Dec 6, 2010
  15. Rugbypup

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    Part 4 is taking sometime to get the dirty bits right, bare with me please, if anyone is still interested that is.
     
  16. crescendo69

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    Nice story and great writing.
     
  17. Big Jake

    Big Jake Member

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    I have to know how this ends!
     
  18. BigInBellevue

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    The writing seems to me to be a notch (or several notches) above the norm for LPSG. A little more attention to some of the words and use of the spell-checker would place it into an ever higher category.
     
  19. Rugbypup

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    I'll take that as a not too bad for a first time stab, thank you. :redface:
     
  20. kundalinikat

    kundalinikat Member

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    It's amazing, keep going.
     
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