Chapter 2

Hubert Porcine's brother Cyrus was walking proof. Big hands, big dick. He was a gentle guy though, more polite than Hubert, and I didn't get to see it until I asked nicely.

Hubert and I had arrived on his scooter in the dark, and I was surprised that Cyrus was up and about. Dressed in overalls he looked much more industrious than Hubert ever would. He had a quick chat with his brother, then grinned, shook his head and insisted the tax collector wouldn't find us there.

Cyrus behaved like a real host, and offered us a seat in the living room, and something to drink. A beer or two later, Hubert was lying down on the sofa, and I needed to be shown where the bathroom was. I had to squeeze past Cyrus in the narrow hallway when I got there. There was plenty of room really, but I pressed up against him anyway. No point in playing hard to get, I say.

When I got back to the living room, Cyrus was sitting there in a big armchair, rubbing a small piece of wood between his fingers. A horse I think it was. He looked up as I walked in.

"Ah, Glenda. How well do you know my brother?"

"I don't, really. We met at a bar tonight."

"So you're not familiar with this?" He waved at the sofa.

Hubert was out cold. His head had fallen and was hanging down towards the floor. His shirt had ridden up his back and exposed his ample stomach. Frankly, he wasn't looking his best. "Oh. No. No offense intended, Cyrus, but I might not have picked him up if he'd looked like that."

"I'm not terribly surprised. Listen, I need to go do something in the workshop, and I didn't want to disappear before you got back."

"Oh. Well, I can ... Shit. Can I come with you? What do you need to do? Why aren't you asleep?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. I thought you might want to stay out here. You're most welcome."

"Okay, cool. Let's go."

He stood up from the armchair, and took my hand. He really looked like a vastly improved version of his brother. He talked as he walked me out of the room and down the hallway, the opposite way from the bathroom. "I'm often up at this hour of the night. I don't really like much to be interrupted while I'm working."

"Oh, sorry."

"No, no. You couldn't possibly know. In here."

"Wow, this is big. What the hell do you do, anyway?"

"I manufacture stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yeah. Wooden stuff mostly. For people who can afford to be picky."

"Tables and chairs?"

"Well, sometimes. Anything, really. So long as it's wooden. Come take a look. I just need to turn that lathe off."

"You carry on. Can I wander around?"

"Yeah, sure. Just ask before you touch anything mechanical."

"You betcha. Man, I love the smell, Cyrus."

"Thank you."

"Not you, the wood!"

"Oh, well." He grinned at me.

I couldn't resist. I walked up close, put my nose to his neck, and sniffed.

"Hey, what the hell?"

"Mmmm ... You too."

"Oh?"

"Yep. Now go turn that off."

"Yes, Miss."

"That's better."

I wandered around the room for a few minutes, looking at some of the things he'd made, and he was right. Plates, stools, tables, cabinets, all sorts of things.

In one place he had a pile of smaller wooden items in a cardboard box. I rummaged through them while waiting, and was a little stunned at one of the items I unearthed. I looked over to check that Cyrus hadn't seen me, and then took it with me, trying to find the right place to put it down.

There was a big countertop at the other end of the room, sitting on trestle tables, all polished and shiny. I liked the feel of it, and it seemed to suit the purpose well. I hoisted myself up to sit on the edge of the counter, my bare ass on the shiny wood, my feet hanging in the air in front. I carefully placed the item I'd picked up on the counter behind where I was sitting, and threw a cloth over it.

Cyrus had noticed me by then, and wandered over to see what I was doing. I pointed to a stool in front of me, not too far away. "Sit down, big boy."

"What? We can go back and sit on some real furniture now if you like."

"I'm quite comfortable here, thanks. Sit." He did as he was told, dragging the stool to what would turn out to be a great vantage point directly in front of me. "You know, I really like the feel of this wood on my bare skin."

"Yeah, well it's nice stuff, and I've worked long and hard on that piece. I didn't realise you were going to test it for me, though."

"It passes the test."

"So do you."

"You think?"

"I do."

"Thank you, Mr Porcine. In that case, would you mind answering a question for me?"

"A question? What sort of question?"

"A personal one."

"Oh? Sure."

I reached behind myself on the counter and retrieved the item I'd picked up. I turned back to him, the thing in my hand. I was holding a very large, dark, richly grained wooden dildo. Some sort of mahogany cock, it seemed. "Well?"

He grinned and blushed at once. "Well what? If you've got a question, go right ahead."

"Well, what exactly is this for?"

"For? Why Glenda, it's for masturbating. You didn't know?"

"I'd assumed. So what's it doing in the box?"

"Well, not masturbating, that's for sure. It's a reject, actually."

"Oh?" I rubbed it up and down in my hand. "What's wrong with it? No splinters, I hope."

"Nothing at all. It's just ... some of my customers have strange tastes. This one asked me to make another one."

"Kinky. So what did she want to be different?"

"How do you know it was a she? And ... size."

"It's too big?"

"Uh uh."

"Oh, God. So you replaced it?"

"Yep. Something a little more ... robust."

"Fuck!"

"More or less."

I held the thing and looked at him. Considered. For a moment. Then I slowly slid my knees apart. I watched him as I did it. He wasn't embarrassed, or upset. I could tell from the bulge. I lifted the dress up to give him a good view, and sat for a moment, just enjoying being watched. I put the end of the wooden dildo to my mouth, licking it thoroughly, and then lowered it again, turning it towards myself.

I spread my knees as much as I could, and stared at Cyrus while I impaled myself with his spare cock.

I pushed it in, having a little difficulty with both its width and the lack of lubrication, and then, with it snugly in place, I let go of it, and slowly lifted my knees, feeling the solid pressure of the wooden shaft as I got my feet up on the counter, and spread my knees again.