Who's My Daddy?

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
Artwork (c) 2015 by Eduardo

Illustration of Who's My Daddy?

The men of the Western Cascade Logging Company's Camp 3 got only one mule train of supplies each month. That month's supplies had to last them the entire month, and in addition, had to let them lay in a supply of goods to cover the long winters in the mountains, when supplies could not get through. The company kept the men partly occupied in those months, by repairs of equipment, clearing logging trails in clearer weather, and building of dams and laying in a supply of ice kept in the deep cellars dug far in, ice packed in tightly there would last until well into the summer and permitted them to preserve meats and such at frozen or near-frozen temperatures. Not to mention it let them have cold beer all the way through to early August. Such a luxury was worth it to the men to stay on even though they got less pay during the five frozen months, and those were also months in which they could take it easy, drink, play cards, gamble, tell tall tales and so on.

The last supply run each year was delivered in early October, and usually ran only a few days before the snows began to fall, closing the small mountainous trail and freezing the stream down which they ferried their logs the other months of the year. From then until mid-April, they were closed off from all other mankind.

It takes a certain kind of man to live that kind of life, and so it should come as no surprise that the men of Camp 3 had almost to a man been together for the last eight years. Camp 3 three years before then had been much closer to the Pacific Ocean and there had been more traffic throughout the year. Of the thirty men in the camp, only three had worked in Camp 3 for fewer than the eight years it had been in existence, and even those men had worked in Camp 4, which had shared with Camp 3 some eight years before a singular luxury...Barrelhouse Betty. A young and pretty whore, she had plied her wares among the young and horny men (who'd been from seventeen to twenty-five years of age back then, and now were ages twenty-five to thirty-three). Every man in the camp had visited her at least once or twice, and she had wrung their prongs dry with her powerful vagina. Not once had she required the men take precautions against getting her pregnant or worse and it was no surprise to the camp when, after four months servicing them, she vanished one day with a small but visible bump on her stomach that hadn't come from overeating.

They'd assumed that the whore had had an abortion somewhere and perhaps had died from the experience, then decided to ply her wares elsewhere. Or had found a man who'd marry her despite her pregnancy and was raising her bastard in some isolated cabin of which the Pacific Northwest had plenty.

Yet with the last mule-train of the winter had come a passenger, a young boy of fair skin, light brown hair and a letter from Barrelhouse Betty, informing all who read it that the father of this boy, whose name was Julius, had been some member of Camp 3 or Camp 4 and whoever he was, the boy was his problem now!

The men of the Camp held a meeting that night to discuss the problem. If Barrelhouse Betty had been more discriminating in her liaisons, or favored one man over another, they could have hopefully narrowed down the possibilities. As it was, it was hopeless, any one of them could have been the father. No, there was no choice, they'd have to send the boy back with the mule train in the morning.

The mule-driver had apparently anticipated this, he departed in the night with his mules and his money, leaving the boy behind. They sent the boy on a rider after him, but the snow had begun falling by the time he was ready to leave and the rider came back the next afternoon. A freak blizzard had driven him back and they'd barely made it, the rider had suffered frostbite and the boy had fared better because he'd clung to the rider's back closely and kept himself warmer.

Another meeting about what to do occurred that night. The men were still trying to figure out what to do when the boy himself walked into the center of the meeting. "I heard all of you talking." he declared. "All of you trying to figure out who's my daddy. Well, I am here to tell you I don't need any of you to tell me who my daddy is, my momma told me how to figure out who he is."

"You mean she knows?" came the dumbfounded response from Jacques. It wasn't his real name (few of the men present were known by their birth name), but he was large, black-haired, heavily muscled, and hied from Canada, so he had been saddled with the inevitable moniker.

"Sure." Julius replied. "She told me how to find him. I just need to spend some time with each of you and when I find my daddy, I'll know. It's why I came here."

The men blinked at each other. They were all gambling men, they were all each thinking the same thing. "If there are thirty men in the camp and the boy only picks one of us to call his daddy, pot odds are it won't be me!" Thirty men came to one conclusion quickly and there was a general agreement.

"But which one will be first?" demanded Red Charley. The camp had five Charleys, he picked up the adjective for having red hair where the other three had different hair colors, Yellow Charley (a blond stud), Black Charley (hair, not skin), Brown Charley and Long Charley (both brown-haired, but Long Charley had another physical attribute to win his title).

"I will take him." Jacques volunteered. "He looks nothing like me, so the sooner I have it over and done with, the better, I think."

Julius agreed, and after their meal (cooked and eaten communally, the men took turns preparing the food and cleaning up), Jacques escorted Julius to his own room. The men had built four such buildings, each housing between five to eight people, each with their own room. Beyond having four walls, ceiling and floor, and a glassless window that cold weather forced the owner to keep fastened shut, the contents were left to the owner. Jacques had taken the time to build himself a serviceable bed fashioned from odd pieces of logs cut and notched and fitted together, with a large cloth bag stuffed with leaves forming a comfortable mattress. The boy saw this bed and promptly jumped into the middle of it. The problem with him acquiring the bed was that it left no room for Jacques to sleep and he would not tolerate that. "Get out of the bed, that is mine. You, I will make a pile of clothing you can sleep on for tonight. Tomorrow, you are someone else's problem."

The boy obliged, but when Jacques was ensconced in his own bed with adequate covering, he heard a plaintive cry. "I'm cold."

The big man sighed and said, "Very well, come in bed with me."

The boy slid into the covers and said in some surprise. "You wear no clothing?"

"My clothing is all making your bed." Jacques said. "No matter, my covers are thick and warm enough for this night."

"Yes, they are." the boy replied.

Jacques attempted to sleep but the boy kept wriggling. "Will you be still?"

"Almost done." the boy said and Jacques realized the boy was wriggling out of his longjohns.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"You're right, it is warm enough under here to not wear clothes."

"That is no reason."

"There is one more reason."

"Which is?"

"I need to find out who my father is."


"Mother told me how to find him. I'm trying to find out if you're my Daddy." The boy finished this by grasping Jacques' manhood and squeezing it up and ready. "Remember what my Mother does."

"I remember." Jacques gasped.

"I'll know my daddy by what he does when he is in bed." Julius went on. "What he did with Mother. She told me all about it. So I'll know who's my daddy...."

"You'll know who's your daddy by what he does with you." Jacques moaned. His cock was now rock-hard.

"Uh-huh." Julius agreed. "And now that you're hard, I can do this." He slid under the covers and Jacques could only groan as the boy's head found his groin and his lips searched for, discovered and slid over his glans and down his shaft. The soft buds of the boy's mouth caressed and teased the big man's dong, until he moaned in his misery of pleasure, and the shaft was slathered with saliva.

"And now I can do this." Julius continued and straddled Jacques' stomach. This caused the covers to expose him to the cold, but he didn't try to stop the boy's movements, as he scooted backwards and fitted the thick, gleaming shaft to his anus and pressed down on it. The glans compressed as the tight sphincter resisted, then it gave way and Jacques' shaft plunged into the boy.

Julius only raised his head and crooned as the thick prong penetrated the young ass, and he kept resting his weight on it until it was buried to the base.

"Oh, oh, little boy!"

"Oh, if..." Julius gasped. "If you're my Daddy, fuck me. Just like you did Momma."

"Your mother, she was not on top." Jacques said. "She was underneath me, like this."

The big man had to do a lot of turning and scooting but he held the boy tight to his body and soon he had the small form on the mattress and himself on top. "Her legs were around me."

"Like this?" The boy wrapped his legs around Jacques' buttocks

"Yes, just like that." Jacques lied, the woman's legs had been around his own legs. "And so I fucked her like this."

He proceeded to use every sexual trick he had learned in his encounters with women. He was a man of the woods and not as experienced as one would think such a huge, muscled, handsome man would be, but he plied his tool with all the energy and vigor he had used when he did find a woman who would part her legs for him.

Julius clung to him and moaned and soon he was quivering in a little-boy climax, and Jacques smiled at the boy. "Your mother, she was the same. She had her joy, but I, I did not stop, I kept going like so...." He continued his lustful thrusting. Some time later, the boy again was wracked with climax and this time, Jacques let his body join the boy in orgasmic joy, pumping hot jizz into the small ass to the point where it flowed out and onto the mattress.

Panting heavily, he squeezed the two of them so that they could share the small mattress, fumbled the covers over them, and they slept like that. Jacques roused in the middle of the night when Julius was again slurping on his rod (he'd thrown an erection in his sleep and the boy had seized the chance) and a third time when he awoke at first dawn and pushed his rod in to the boy's ass while he still slept, and Julius only woke while being fucked for the second time. He didn't complain, he loved it!

At breakfast, the men plied the two with questions as to whether Jacques had fathered the boy, but Jacques could only shrug and the boy refused to answer. "Who's next?" he asked the men instead.

"That'll be me." Long Charley volunteered, for Jacques had confided in the men how the boy intended to test them, and the only question of volunteers now was how much compunction they had to overcome to state publicly they wanted the boy to come to their bed so they could fuck him.

Julius put Long Charley (whose moniker came from the preposterously long endowment he had, in case you hadn't guessed it yet) through his paces and the man the next morning was bragging about how he'd plugged the boy properly and the lad had not flinched from taking every inch of his eleven-inch dong.

But the boy still did not proclaim the man his father. As the days went on, the issue of finding the boy's father became less of an issue. He went with a different man each night for the first thirty days, but no man gained that title. The men debated and decided he was waiting for a particular sexual activity to find his father. Julius found the men seeking him for sexual pleasure whenever and wherever, and in groups.

As the winter wore away and spring showed on the calendar if not out the windows, there came a day when Julius was on the floor of the common room, being fucked by Red Charley while he sucked on Jacques' prominent dong. Red Charley was a rough lover, he growled as he hammered the boy's ass. Jacques was gentler, he let Red Charley's thrusts cause the boy to slide back and forth over his prong, and the two, boy and man, enjoyed the ride of cocksucking without effort.

When Red Charley hit his climax, he snarled like a hungry panther, and Jacques also exploded into Julius' mouth at the same time. The boy was pelted by hot man jizz from both ends and he swallowed Jacques' jizz, stopping midway through to release the man's pud (it still squirted some spunk onto his face) while he quivered in his own little-boy orgasm.

"Hah, ah, hah, hah!" Red Charley panted. "I'm your daddy, boy, I'm your daddy!"

"No, me, I am your papa!" Jacques gasped.

"Hey, no fair trying to snag him all for yourselves." one of the onlookers declared. "Come on, Julius, you've had all the time you need. Who's your Daddy?"

"Who's my daddy?" Julius said. "Gee, I dunno."

"You don't know?"

"I know it is one of you, my mother said it was so and I believe her. She told me stories of all of you, so that I knew you before I came here. She said the man who was my father would sense it, and would take good care of me and love me. But all of you have been caring for me. Jacques is teaching me French. Long Charley is schooling me in how to read and write, and Mark is teaching me math. I am learning how to cut wood and become a logger one day from all of you."

The boy stood, adjusted his trousers over his fucked butt and smiled, Jacques' spooge still dappling his face. "Who's my Daddy? I don't know, and as long as I have all of you to care for me, I don't really care. Now, my question is not who's my Daddy, my question is, who's my Daddy next?"

Outside the snow continued to blot out the rest of the world. The men looked at each other, and six men scrambled for the chance to be Daddy.

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(The Story You Just Read is Available in the "Okay, Who's Next?" book)