"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these hunters from the swift completion of their hunt," Adam whispered under his breath softly as the huge animal walked into the green field.
"Ain't that the post office motto?" the muscular blond guy beside him whispered against his ear, leaning over with fingers in his own ears.
"Shut the fuck up, Buster," Adam hissed softly as the big buck deer stopped and raised his head high, snorting a breath of stream into the cold air.
Adam pulled the trigger and the blast from the rifle seemed to reverberate through the wooden tree stand, echoing through field and forest.
But the bullet missed its target as the big animal lurched to the side and jumped into the thick oak woods which surrounded the green plot full of rye grass and clover Adam and Buster had carefully maintained in order to attract him and his kin.
"Goddamn it all to muthafuckin' hell!" Adam growled, taking off his orange cap and slapping it against the wall of the wooden tree stand. He scratched at the buzzed side of military-style haircut, before putting his hat back on backwards."Fuck it all to hell."
"He'll be back," Buster said, sympathizing with his buddy. He patted Adam's brown canvas jacket. "The way the weather keeps changing makes them more skittish."
Buster set his gun aside and gave a big yawn as he stretched his arms, his back arched back. His big muscular chest expanded as he completed his yawning stretch with his hands scratching at his hard rounded pectorals.
Adam frowned and shook his head as he sat there watching the cool morning mist roll over the warming green clearing where the 12-point buck had stood seconds before. He clenched his fist, his biceps flexed under his jacket.
"Well, fuck it. Let's get back to the farm. Tim said he'd be here around eight or so," Adam finally said with a sigh. He knew the buck wouldn't be back this morning. This hunt had ended for now.
"I need another big cup of coffee," Buster replied as he gathered everything up. "I should've stayed in bed," he said, giving a little chuckle under his breath afterwards.
Adam's eyes narrowed. "I wish you fuckin' had," Adam quipped. He gave Buster a soft punch to the shoulder.
"The fuck!" Buster laughed, grabbing his shoulder in mock pain. "I could've fell out of the tree stand, fucker."
"Well, go on. Get the fuck out, Calvin," Adam laughed, using Buster's real name.
"Shut the fuck up, Eugene," Buster clapped back, knowing Adam hated his middle name.
Everything got quiet as they both stared at each with grimacing expressions, until a cackle sputtered out of Adam's lips, followed by a loud hoot by Buster. They shook the treestand as they laughed.
Adam swatted at Buster. "Stop it!" he cried out between laughs. "Your big ass is goin' to knock us outta the tree!"
Buster fell over from his sitting position onto his side. "Fuck, help me up," Buster grunted as his laughing subsided.
Adam moved as best as he could in the tight space, reaching around Buster and pulling him up. He could feel his buddy's solid muscled torso as he tugged on him, helping back in a seated position. Buster's coveralls gaped open, allowing Adam to feel a wave of the musky heat his body was generating. It was only for a second but the scent and sights transported Adam to a different place and he felt an uncomfortable stirring inside.
"We need a bigger treestand. We've had this treehouse for decades," Adam said, shaking his head before pulling himself back and almost hitting his head. "We've gotten a lot bigger since when we'd climb up here and practice shooting leaves with our BB guns."
Adam and Buster climbed down from the repurposed treehouse and into the bright crisp sunlight. A warm breeze foretold warmer weather on the way, probably with rain.
"Looks like we're about to have a second summer." Buster noted as they walked into the warming sunlight at the edge of the field. "Hot, cold, hot, cold," he repeated.
"I wish to hell this Southern weather would go one fuckin' way or the other," Adam answered.
"I've got to get out of these coveralls right now," Buster groaned, pulling at the half-unzipped thick camo clothing. His muscled hulking body flexed and turned as he pulled himself out of the coveralls. The bright and tight hunter-orange t-shirt he wore was molded to his bulky v-shaped torso. "It's warming up a good bit, but still a bit chilly though," he said, rubbing a wide hand across his big chest.
"I've got to go piss," Adam stated as he walked across to a big ancient oak tree.
Adam pulled out his cock and let loose a big stream of piss. Wisps of steam wafted through the air as the warm liquid hit the chilled ground. But the cold did nothing to the big fat member he held in his hand. The adrenaline rush of hunting was no substitute for sex, but he wasn't doing well as far as either one lately. The stream stopped and Adam shook his dick to get rid of the last remaining drops. He gave his meaty cock an abbreviated shake, a few drops of piss landing on his brown canvas pants. He slid his fingers to the dripping head and felt a tingle run through his half-hard cock. His lips curled as he started sliding his hand over the fat member. His teeth clenched from the pleasure of touching himself. A drop of precum pushed out of this cock shining along with the last drop of piss. He tried thinking about his fat cock sinking into a tight pussy but other images came into his head --images he didn't yet know how to really process, yet his cock still wanted to get hard. If he had been alone, a squirt of hot cum would have been fertilizing the gnarled roots of the big oak.
"Are you pissing or choking yer chicken?" Buster yelled over to him with a big grunting laugh. "You just need some good pussy, dontcha?" he bellowed, laughing so hard he had to lean against a tree to steady himself.
Adam quickly tucked his now-soft cock back into his pants. "Fucker, you made me almost piss myself yelling like that," Adam grumbled, walking back and adjusting himself, then pointing at the stains made by the errant piss drops. "Why the fuck would you do that?" he complained.
Buster took a deep yawn, his orange shirt riding up exposing this tight hairy belly. Adam's eyes roamed over the belly with just enough fat to soften the hard washboard underneath it. Adam turned away quickly before Buster noticed the canvas tent at his crotch as they both gathered up their equipment.
Adam mentioned that the treestand needed another coat of paint after hunting season was over, as they started walking down the path toward the old homeplace where his grandparents had once lived. The old white farmhouse came into view as the path rounded the big duck pond. They could see and hear Tim's big pick-up truck rolling down the long gravel driveway.
The old house was built with a dogtrot breezeway through the center and with a tin roof. Adam had inherited it from his grandparents and kept it in good condition. It sat in the middle of the large-acre fenced-in homeplace in the middle of a variety of fields, pastures, and forest, along with quite a few old out-buildings which included a big barn, sawmill, and woodshed, among others. He would have preferred to live here full-time; but at the moment, it was more convenient to live in town due to his growing construction business. He had toyed with the idea of making it a membership-only hunting club, even putting a sign up at the turn-off from the blacktop county road; but he didn't actually want a continuous bunch of strange people trampling around the old homeplace after he thought about it. So, for now, it was just a getaway country place where he and his buddies could hunt, fish, and relax with an occasional blow-out party.
Tim pulled up in his big heavy-duty pickup truck, the ground almost vibrating from the engine, as the guys walked out of the woods. Buster nudged Adam as a stranger got out of the passenger side.
