by Oliver Jennings
When I was in my mid teens, a few mates and I would sometimes earn a bit of holiday money doing odd jobs on a farm near Halstock. The farmer, a guy called Blakely, was always pleased to get some extra help stacking up bails of hay or picking a few rows of potatoes, and he’d pay us a couple of quid for every hour we worked which seemed like a lot of money to us ten years ago.
This story is about something that happened at Halstock when I was seventeen. It was October half term and it must have been the last time I worked at the farm: by the following Spring I was far too immersed in my A-Level revision to think about earning extra money and the following Autumn I went of to university.
Only two of us were there: me and a guy I knew from my Physics class called William. He was a tall, scrawny lad – not the kind of guy you’d normally expect to find helping out on a farm – and I think he only turned up because his mum was a friend of Blakely’s wife and she’d pressurized him into it.
William was definitely a William: you just couldn’t make yourself call him Will or Bill. He seemed perfectly matched to his full name’s length and angularity, being long and pretty angular himself, and obviously enjoyed the slight air of formality occasioned by its use. That’s not to say the guy was stuffy or boring: I guess he was pretty cool in his own way. He was just a little different: a guy who followed his own ideas and who was comfortable with his own style.
He turned up that first morning listening to some heavy metal band or other through his Walkman headphones, staring blankly into thin air as his head bobbed almost imperceptibly to the tinny rhythm.
Blakely walked straight up to him, sharply yanked off his headphones and started taking the piss out of him, ridiculing the name of the band on his black tee-shirt and the newness of his Doc Martin boots. William just stood there, shrugging and sneering. Eventually, when Blakely had finished, William replied, “This is called style, mate… I wouldn’t expect a farmer to be able to appreciate its finer nuances…”
At that, Blakely had howled with laughter and the two of them, whether despite or because of the unpromisingly direct start, seemed to hit it off.
I noticed straightaway, even on that first morning, the dramatic impact William’s presence had on Blakely. He was normally a no-nonsense kind of guy – a graduate agriculturalist in his early thirties with clear ideas about how a farm should be run – who’d tell us, as soon as we started slacking off, that he had a wife and young daughter to support and didn’t have money to waste on freeloaders. “You don’t come onto my land just to piss around making jokes about combined harvesters,” he’d shouted at one of my mates before telling him to sling his hook. No work, no pay: that was his oft-repeated motto.
But as soon as William appeared that all seemed to dry up. William could stand and chat with him all morning – in fact, that’s pretty much all he did – and Blakely just lapped it up. The most he managed was to mutter, “Hey, we better get on, mate…” But then, five minutes later, the two of them would be at it again. Meanwhile, yours truly was hosing out the manure skip and disinfecting the milking cups. Nice.
While we were eating our packed lunches on that first day and Blakely had gone off to get us some mugs of tea – another first – William said, “Rob’s pretty cool…”
I swallowed my mouthful too hastily and spluttered, “Rob?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Blakely. That’s his first name.”
“No-one ever calls his Rob,” I coughed, clearing my throat. “I didn’t even know that was his name. He’s always Blakely. Always has been.”
William shrugged and muttered, dismissively, “Well apparently he isn’t. He’s called Rob. At least, that’s what he said I should call him.”
Blakely reappeared with the tea and I said, “Thanks, Rob.”
He did a double- take and through me look as if to say, “Who gave you that right?” But he couldn’t exactly say anything about it, after he’d been so buddy-buddy with William on the first day of meeting him, and so after that he became known as Rob.
It suited him more, actually. The name Blakely made him sound like he might be a cantankerous old fart – probably because that’s what his dad, the notorious “Old Mr Blakely” had been – but calling him Rob made him sound a little more human. Which, for all his faults and foibles, he definitely was.
It was on the second or third day that the first thing happened between the two of them. It was pretty much nothing, in itself, but it stands as the first indication of what was about to develop between the two of them. The first hint that the no-nonsense, family-orientated farmer might actually have a bit of thing for seventeen year old lads.
I’d been rubbing a veterinary ointment onto a couple of cows while William did fuck all as usual. Rob was cleaning out the milking stalls while William chatted to him, the two of them giggling at odd intervals like conspiratorial schoolgirls. Occasionally Rob would ask William to fetch him a fresh carton of disinfectant or a bucket or something, but I think he did that entirely for my benefit – just to show that William was supposedly earning his money.
I must admit I was starting to get a bit pissed off by this stage.
I remember feeling like calling over to them, “Hey, William, why don’t we do a swap, mate? You rub the mite lotion around these cows’ arses and I’ll flirt with the farmer. Since we’re both getting two quid an hour, that seems pretty fair to me!” But I held back. I kind of knew something was happening, but I didn’t really think it was a sexual, or even emotional, thing. I just thought Rob was being nice to William because of the friendship between his wife and William’s mum.
But then Rob started going on about William having a ‘ginger bush’. It was true that William did have ginger hair, or at least brown hair with a distinct copper-coloured hue to it, so I guess it was reasonable to expect his pubic hair to be of a similar colour. The fact that it might hadn’t really occurred to me as an issue, but it seemed to have made a big impact on Rob.
He went on about it, joking that he’d always been a big fan of ginger nuts and other comments like that, while William giggled away.
It would die down and then Rob would start it up again. He tried to draw me into it but I just got on with sorting out the cows’ arses. I was pleased I hadn’t actually suggested a swap: this was getting a little too heavy.
Eventually Rob said the thing I knew he’d say: “Come on, then, mate. Let’s see it. I’ve got to see how weird it looks…”
It had just been a matter of time.
William laughed, “I’m not showing you my bits… well, not for free…”
Rob grinned. “I’ll give you a bonus!” Then he saw the look I threw him from behind the cows and added, quickly, “No, that’s just a joke… but you could show us your ginger pubes without getting your dick out if you’d be embarrassed… I’ve just never seen red hair down there… it seems weird…”
William shrugged. “It’s not weird. If I’ve got red hair on my head, it’s obvious I’m gonna have red hair down there…”
Rob kept on. “Yeah, I know. But I’ve never seen it… I can’t imagine how it looks.”
I emerged from behind the cow, pulling my rubber glove off.
Rob tried to draw me again, saying, “Have you ever seen a ginger bush, Ollie? You want to see it too, don’t ya?”
I shrugged. “Whatever…”
William laughed again. He was loving this. “Come on guys, I’m not gonna put on a peep show…”
I muttered, without being able to stop myself, “Yeah… we can’t expect you to actually move to earn your wage, can we?”
William glared over at me while Rob just smiled, perhaps too carried away with the idea of seeing William’s pubic hair to realise I was being catty.
Then William’s annoyance turned to a sneer and he said, probably to piss me off, “Okay, then, Rob. I guess, if you insist…”
Rob nodded eagerly and William unbuttoned the bottom of his shirt and hitched it up a little. His stomach had a fine fuzz of red hair on it which looked slightly lighter than the hair on his head.
He undid his belt and the top button of his jeans. Then he looked up at Rob and asked, “Are you sure this won’t freak you out..?”
Rob laughed, “Come on, mate. We’ve got to set up the thresher before dark. Get on with it..!”
William turned his back on us and fumbled around inside his jeans. He muttered, “Sorry, I’m just checking which pants I’m wearing… oh shit…”
Rob was insistent, “Come on… we don’t care about those… just get your bush out…” He laughed, “Jesus! I never thought I’d be saying that to another guy…!”
He looked at me but I didn’t smile.
William tucked his underpants down into the confines of his jeans. He said, “Those ones aren’t for public view… a Christmas present from my mother…”
Then he turned back to face us, the top three buttons of jeans undone, and showed us the sprouting hair which crowned his pubes. The short tight curls of his bush were so orange they almost looked unnatural. The base of his cock and the tops of his balls were just slightly visible, but other than that it was all twisting red hair.
He laughed, “Cool, huh?”
Rob was agog. He said, “Jesus… I can’t believe how red it is… do you dye the hair on your head?”
William shrugged. “No.”
Rob reached out and stroked his fingers through William’s pubic bush, like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. He muttered, casually, “I guess your head hair must fade more ’cause it gets more light on it. It’s not as bright… this stuff’s as orange as carrots…”
William smiled. “Yeah… not so much carrot top as carrot cock!”
Rob laughed and looked up at me. “Hey, have a feel of it, Ollie? It’s so surreal…”
I shook my head. “No thanks, mate. I can cope with cows’ arses, but this is going too far…”
William glared again.
Then Rob’s hand jerked and yanked William’s fly open. It was supposed to look accidental but it wasn’t even vaguely convincing. The fact Rob said, “Sorry, mate… oh shit…” at exactly the same time that he did it, like it had been planned, didn’t exactly help the illusion.
William’s cock flopped out through his fly, looking heavy and swollen even though it was clearly predominantly limp. He called out, “Whoa…” and quickly pushed it back in through his fly.
Rob apologised again, saying, “Hey, sorry, mate… my hand just kind of twitched…” and William’s face went as red as his pubic hair.
He buttoned himself up quickly, looking at the floor with embarrassment, but he said, “It’s okay… don’t worry about it…”
Then Rob said, “It’s not like you’ve anything to hide though… that was a hell of a cock, mate…”
At that William stared up at his face. I’d have done the same after a comment like that, but on my face the expression would have been horror. On William’s it was delight.
Rob smiled and nodded. “Yeah… I mean, not like I’ve seen too many…”
William laughed. “Well… er… thanks…”
Then Rob said, much more quietly but I still heard it, “Maybe you shouldn’t have put it away so quickly…”
And I thought, “Oh shit. You’ve got a bit of thing going for young William, haven’t you, Mr Blakely?”
The next thing that happened at Halstock took place a couple of days later.
I’d been given the enviable task of replacing the filters on the silage tank while the two of them got stuck into some heavy giggling and whispering in the barn. The story was that Rob was trying to fix some of the slats on the barn wall to stop rats getting in, but it didn’t look like very much in the way of work was going on.
To be honest, I was pleased of being left on my own as it meant I didn’t have to listen to the two of them talking crap to each other.
Problems started, though, when I accidentally unscrewed the wrong cap on the outlet of the silage tank. Filth started spraying everywhere, including over me, and I called out in panic for some help from Rob. He rushed in and, on receiving a good blast of muck over himself, commanded William to help me stem the spray of bilge from the outlet of the tank while he tried to re-attach the cap.
After a few minutes, during which the three of us became caked in pig manure to depth of several centimeters, the cap had been reattached and the spray subsided.
It pissed me off that Rob tried to pin the whole thing onto me. His instant response was to get angry and to try and blame me.
I reminded him, “Look, mate. I’ve no training in this and you know that. You should have been with me, telling me what to do… not with him…”
I emphasized the ‘him’ and we both knew why.
That shut Rob up for a few seconds.
William threw me a dark, ominous look.
Then Rob said, more brightly, “Okay, guys. No worries. We’ll just get cleaned up and forget it…”
We walked over to the farmhouse – well, it was more like an ungainly, shivering waddle in our freezing cold shit-soaked clothes – and stripped off as quickly as we could in the back yard. Rob’s wife nodded wearily as we filed through her kitchen in our underwear, our faces, hair and hands brown and stinking. She said she’d sort out some clean, dry jeans and shirts for William and I to go home in.
We piled into the bathroom and Rob took a bottle of antiseptic from the cabinet. He soaked some cotton wool with it and passed it to William, making soothing comments as the younger man cleaned around his eyes and nostrils. I didn’t really appreciate the fact that he sorted William out first, even though I’d bore the brunt of the outflow, while I just stood there in my paisley boxers feeling like a gooseberry.
Then he passed me the antiseptic and switched on the shower to warm up. The cold room rapidly filled up with steam.
When William had finished cleaning his most vulnerable areas, Rob gestured for him to get in the shower. “Okay, mate, you take shower while we sort ourselves out.”
William pulled his briefs off and got under the pouring water.
Rob was – quite literally – transfixed by the sight of William standing naked in the shower. He stared intently as the teenager washed the silage out of his hair and lathered shower gel into his arm pits, chest and around his cock.
I passed Rob the antiseptic but he just held it in front of him at an odd angle, unaware that the contents were almost spilling onto the floor. His mouth was open like he was mesmerized.
William looked over at him and smiled, perhaps a little self-consciously.
Rob seemed to come to his senses a little by the look William had thrown him and he quickly righted the bottle of antiseptic before anything was spilled. He said, as if to excuse his initial reaction, “I can’t believe you said you haven’t got a girlfriend, mate… it all looks pretty top-notch to me…”
William smiled broadly. “Well, you know what girls are like… they have some pretty narrow-minded ideas about how guys should look… they’re not as easily pleased as you obviously are…”
Rob laughed. “Just ’cause I work around cows all day, doesn’t mean I’m easily pleased… I just appreciate a nice body… whether it’s on a guy or a girl…”
William’s face flushed a little. He was a little too awkward to accept compliments easily.
Rob continued, “I mean, don’t think I’m being weird. I just don’t think it’s wrong for one guy to say that another guy has a nice body…”
William smiled again and said, “No, I don’t think that.” Then he turned his back to us and rinsed his chest and crotch under the spray of water. His arse was fairly squat but the cheeks were round and firm.
Rob stared at it. His thoughts were reflected in the increasing size of the front of his plain white briefs. The mound in them, which had from the outset been quite impressive, began to swell further and the outline of his thickening cock became more clearly discernible inside them.
He turned to me and said, “You don’t think that’s weird, do you, Ollie… one guy saying another guy has a nice body?”
I smiled. “Of course not. William has a nice body. And a nice arse. It’s just not having the same effect on me as it’s having on you…”
He looked puzzled and I glanced down at his steadily-developing bulge.
I expected embarrassment but instead he grinned broadly. He laughed, “That’s even more natural. If you find something attractive, you get aroused. You can’t knock that…”
I shrugged. “I’m not knocking it. Just pointing it out.”
William turned back towards us to see what we were talking about. He looked at Rob’s crotch which now tented outwards at an angle of forty-five degrees. The hardening cock inside the farmer’s underwear was now clearly visible as it strained to rise upwards and lengthen outwards against the white material.
William smiled and I saw that his own cock looked significantly longer than it had just seconds before. It had appeared small and shriveled when he’d climbed into the shower, an inconspicuous two-inch mushroom dwarfed by his bushy red pubic hair and his large, round ball sac. But now it hung down over his balls, four or five inches in length, still limp but clearly developing steadily.
Both Rob and I stared at him and he saw what we were looking at.
He continued rinsing his hair and back in the stream of water, and peered down at his cock. He muttered, “You guys talking about my body has had an effect on me too…”
His cock began to rise upwards from his balls, lengthening to six inches and thickening slowly.
Rob laughed, “Come on, William… admit it… you’re getting turned on by the sight of the two of us standing here in our skimpies…”
William looked at him and smiled. He muttered, gazing intently into Rob’s eyes, “Well… maybe that’s half true…”
Rob chuckled and William got out of the shower, grabbing a towel to conceal his developing erection as quickly as he could.
Rob gestured me in but I demurred. I said, “You first, mate… it’s your shower… unless you’d be embarrassed by showing us your stiffie…?”
Rob immediately pulled his briefs down, shrugging and saying, “Like I said, it’s natural… I’ve no worries about that…”
His cock bobbed upward, thick and stiff and pointing outwards from his body at a right angle. It was six or seven inches long with a bulbous red head.
Now, as Rob stepped under the running water, it was William’s turn to be mesmerized. While Rob rinsed the slurry from his hair and washed his face and body, William just stared at him; in particular, at the thick, stiff pole rising from between his legs.
William continued drying himself and called over to Rob, “So you think it’s natural for guys to get aroused when they see something they find attractive?”
Rob looked over at him, his eyes wincing beneath the pouring water from the shower. He nodded. “Yeah… of course…”
William nodded. He muttered, “Yeah. I do too.” His back was towards me, the towel wrapped around his waist and lower abdomen, but it was obvious that he pulled the front of his towel open, giving Rob a flash of his cock.
Although I couldn’t see it, it’s appearance was made clear by the broad grin that appeared on Rob’s face and by the lurch upwards that Rob’s own cock made.
Nothing else happened in the bathroom that day. William pulled his briefs back on, with some difficulty, concealing the state of his cock from me by continually turning his back to me. Rob continued showering with his own erection raging unashamedly until a sharp knock at the door from his wife, depositing the clean clothes for us all on the landing, caused it to wither and die almost instantly. Perhaps that was the effect she always had on him; perhaps that was the reason for his developing interest in William.
I guess the two of them started – how shall I put it – exploring the physical side of their relationship sometime between that afternoon in the bathroom and the following Sunday. I don’t actually know how it started – like I said, I let them go off on their own as much as much as I could – but I imagine it was pretty soon after the teasing conversation that had gone on while they were showering.
I suspect that, after I’d gone home that day and William had stayed on to do a bit of “overtime” (ironic chuckle), the two of them had driven off in Rob’s Landrover and they’d had their first tentative gropes in some secluded layby.
But I don’t know that for sure.
I just know that the next day was business as usual – that is, me doing the work and those too canoodling around like a couple of love-smitten rabbits – with me noticing a few more private jokes than usual and odd serious-sounding whispered comments being exchanged when they thought I was out of earshot.
In fact, I didn’t notice anything concrete going on between them until the last day on which the three of us worked together. “The three of us worked together” – I know – it makes me laugh, too!
It was Sunday morning – the last day of the October half term – and we’d planned to have an early start to pick some mushrooms. There’s a small woodland near to Rob’s farm and he said he knew a small dell where wild mushrooms grow during the cool, humid Autumn nights. He said he could reliably identify the edible ones from the more potent species. It’s important to be early, though, for as soon as the warm sunrays hit them, they dry out and collapse.
I’d agreed to go along, even though it meant getting up at five in the morning, because it sounded like I might find out, indirectly and inadvertently of course, which mushrooms had hallucinogenic properties. I knew I couldn’t pick any there and then, but I could always return at a later date, couldn’t I…?
William went along because – well, you can guess why William went along…
We turned up at the farmhouse at about a quarter to six, expecting Rob to be awake and ready for us. The house was in darkness, though.
I muttered, my voice still sounding a little croaky from the early start, “That’s typical – he goes on about us getting our arses here on time, and then he goes and has a lie-in. Now it looks like we’ve got to wake the whole house up…”
William shook his head. “No we don’t… they hang a spare key above the back door…”
I didn’t ask how he knew that.
I said, “Well, we’ll have to wake his missus up when we wake him… there’s no way we can avoid that…”
Again, William dismissed that. “He sleeps on a camp-bed in the living room when he has an early start… so as not to disturb her…”
I smiled, wondering how many early starts Rob had been claiming to have this week so that he could entertain William in the living room in the small hours.
We walked down the hallway to the living room door but, before I could put the light on, William stopped me in the doorway. He was looking into the room, giggling. Then he turned to me and whispered, “He’s still sleeping…”
He giggled again. “His knob’s out…”
I shrugged incredulously and repeated, “So?”
He kept grinning. “So… it’s funny…”
He let me look into the room and there was Rob, dimly lit from the light in the hallway, fast asleep on the camp- bed with the bed sheets pushed away from him. His boxer shorts were unbuttoned and pulled open, revealing his soft, limp cock and loose saggy balls in all their glory. Perhaps his underwear had come open in his sleep, or – more likely, given that he was still holding onto the television remote control – he’d enjoyed a little fun with his right hand and his video recorder last thing last night.
William walked over to him and I thought he was going to wake him up. But he just stood staring at him, especially at his cock, and then looked up at me, grinning more broadly.
He said, “Do you reckon we could get him hard in his sleep?”
I shrugged again. “I dunno… d’you wanna try?”
He giggled slightly. “It’d be funny…”
I couldn’t see how exactly, but I nodded anyway. His reaction to what was, in my experience of waking my mates up, a not-exactly-unusual occurrence, was kind of intriguing.
He said, “D’you wanna give it a go?”
I shook my head. “Naah… my hand’s too cold… it’d make it go softer…” Then I paused and casually added, “Why don’t you have a go?”
He looked a little apprehensive; like this might be going a step too far. We were both aware that we’d be back in class tomorrow, among our regular friends, and talk of William and his farmer friend might spread quickly.
I wanted to see him do it, though. I wanted to know that my suspicions about the two of them weren’t just the result of my over-active imagination.
So I gave him that little push he needed. I said, smiling, “I bet you can’t make him get a stalk-on within a minute…”
That was encouragement enough. I was, effectively, offering myself as being partly to blame if word got out a bit this. It had been my suggestion; or that’s how he could put it in his defence.
He knelt down next to Rob and slowly and carefully rubbed his flaccid cock. Rob groaned quietly in his sleep but didn’t move. William took this as a positive sign and wrapped his fingers around Rob’s stem, continuing his gentle rubbing actions.
The farmer’s cock began to slowly develop, lengthening gradually and becoming noticeably more solid. He groaned again but this time it sounded more like a pleasurable sigh.
William looked up at me, his eyes alight with excitement. He chuckled, “It’s so weird to have it growing in my hand… it’s got a life of it’s own!”
I smiled and he returned to caressing the enlarging organ. His strokes became more masturbatory when the cock had grown to a size which accommodated this. His face moved further towards it and he licked his lips in fascination at it’s rapid growth.
He craned his neck so that he was breathing right on it as it surpassed six inches, then seven. He seemed to be inhaling its scent as his fingers worked rapidly up and down the thickening length of it. Precum started to dribble from the slit in the head of it and Rob groaned a low, long sigh of intense pleasure.
William saw and smelt the precum, licking his lips again, and I thought, “You’ve sucked this before and you want to suck it now…”
At that moment I became absolutely certain that the two of them had been playing around together. I wondered how far it had gone between them; whether the sucking had led on to more intimate penetrations yet.
William’s hand began to quicken and he now wanked the huge cock rapidly and forcefully. Rob’s breathing started to quicken, a low panting sound developing to the same rhythm as William’s fist, and he shifted position in his sleep so that his legs were more widely spread. The lower extremity of the crack between his buttocks was now visible between his balls and the mattress of the camp-bed. Rob groaned again and moved his right leg further to the side so that his cleft opened slightly. He was, evidently, a guy who liked easy access to his arsehole while he was being pleasured, even when he was barely conscious of it.
I broke William’s almost hypnotic trance as he stared at his hand gliding quickly up and down Rob’s cock, by saying, “Looks like I lost my bet…”
William looked up at me, a small puzzled smile on his face. He’d been too immersed in what he was doing to understand what I was talking about.
I added, “He’s a big boy…”
William laughed and said, almost under his breath, “You wanna try tay- ”
I smiled back at him, waiting for him to complete his sentence, but he just looked back at the cock he was continuing to masturbate as if he hadn’t spoken.
I thought, “‘You wanna try tay-‘? What the hell was he about to say?”
I said, “I’ll make the three of us some coffee.” The kitchen was just down the hallway.
And I left William to it. I expected him to wake Rob up and for the two of them to laugh about what William had done. I didn’t want to be around when that happened: Rob might be embarrassed and pissed off to have me intruding on something sexual between them.
While I stood waiting for the kettle to boil, I kept thinking about what William had said. “You wanna try tay-” What could have been about to follow that?
I didn’t hear sounds of Rob waking up so I crept back along the hallway and peered through the crack between the the living room door and its frame to see what was going on.
William was, as I’d half-expected, feasting on Rob’s engorged cock, lapping at its slick, slippery head like a kitten at a bowl of milk, and then slurping his lips up and down as much of its eight inch stalk as he could take. His hand was moving between Rob’s balls and his arse cheeks: kneading and caressing the former and then moving down to work a finger gently into the cleft of the latter.
He kept looking up at the door, listening for sounds of the kettle switching off and me reappearing with the coffee, and then returning to lick and suck at the cock in front of him.
He’d occasionally look up at Rob’s face and say, with a chuckle, “Come on, I know you’re awake by now…”
But when Rob’s face betrayed no sign of consciousness and his cock throbbed insistently for more, William would mutter, “Okay… this’ll do it…” and he’d try a different technique with his mouth, probing Rob’s arse more deeply with his finger as he did so.
The kettle switched off with a loud click so I crept back to the kitchen to pour the coffee. As I did so, I thought, “He was about to say, ‘You wanna try taking it in your mouth…'” He was clearly well practised at it. But then, as I stirred sugar and milk into the drinks, I wondered if maybe the comment had been intended for the hole at the other end of his body. After all, penetration through the rear would be pose quite a significant problem when you were dealing with a guy of Rob’s build.
I headed back into the living room with a couple of mugs for the two of them. As I expected, the two of them had, by now, prepared themselves for my arrival. Rob was sitting up on the campbed, with the sheets pulled across the large and obvious rod between his legs, while William grinned at him and then me.
Rob said, glancing down at the bulge he was making, “Looks like your mate has a knack for getting me going…”
I handed him his coffee with a nod and a smile.
Rob continued, “Don’t know what I was dreaming of… must’ve been someone nice…”
He looked up at William and they both grinned coyly at each other.
I thought, “Oh, Jesus. Pass the fuckin’ sick-bag…”
I left them to get my own coffee and by the time I returned with it, Rob had got up from his bed and was getting dressed. He tucked his large erection, which was still wet from William’s mouth, into his briefs with some difficulty while William looked on with the same fascination that he’d shown earlier.
After he’d pulled on a few clothes and we’d finished our coffee, the three of us set out to go mushrooming.
I remember that, on the way home that evening, William had asked me not to tell anyone about the fact he’d wanked Rob off on the camp-bed that morning.
I’d shrugged and muttered, “I’ve no reason to…”
He’d laughed, obviously relieved, and said something like, “Yeah… I don’t want people thinking I’m like your mate Simon…”
I’d turned to face him and asked, “And what’s my mate Simon like?”
William had laughed again, a little more nervously, and said, “You know… a bit gay…”
I’d stopped right there and he had too. I’d replied in a slow and quiet voice. “Look mate. You’ve a much better chance of me shutting up about seeing you suck the farmer off in his sleep this morning if you keep my mate Simon out of this… I don’t care what you get up to, but you’re not gonna try and pull attention away from your own sexuality by knocking his…”
William flushed and looked taken aback, but he nodded.
And that’s pretty much the story of what happened at Halstock, save for two postscripts.
I kind of like the fact these happened, even though both of them were completely accidental and are – in a way – almost incidental to the story. They’re proof that the two guys kept meeting up and that their relationship had continued to develop: proof that William hadn’t been preyed upon by the evil, older farmer; and that, conversely, Rob hadn’t been seduced and then discarded by the devious, good-looking youth.
The first postscript took place the next year in the April. I was taking my dog for a walk over at Sutton Bingham which is a few miles from Rob’s farm at Halstock. The place is a nature reserve set around a small, man-made lake. In the car park, I noticed Rob’s Landrover and then, there, near the toilets, William’s bike chained up.
I thought, “Ah ha!”
A walk along the lakeside yielded no sign of them until I got to the bird sanctuary at the far side of the lake. There, I saw them through the trees. William was sitting on the low branch of a tree, Rob was standing facing him. They were deep in conversation but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
I hung around for a while and, after a few minutes, Rob walked up to William and kissed him on the lips. William smiled appreciatively. Perhaps he’d been telling him something upsetting; he looked like he was pleased to receive the affection.
The two of them had stayed like that, Rob between William’s legs as they talked and kissed among the trees. Then, over the next five minutes or so, Rob’s movements became gradually more sexual and it became obvious that he was developing an erection as his crotch rubbed against William’s. He started to hump the younger man, gently at first and then more roughly, and their cocks ground together through the material of their trousers.
They began to kiss more passionately and William grabbed the back of Rob’s jeans, squeezing his buttocks through the thick denim as their mouths worked against one another.
When Rob pulled back and began to unbutton William’s trousers and pull down his briefs, I felt it might be time for me to leave.
I got my third glimpse of William’s bright red pubic hair, looking almost like it was burning in the rays of the late afternoon sunshine, as Rob went down on him and hungrily ate the teenager’s erect cock.
I left them to it, retracing my footsteps away from the bird sanctuary and back along the lakeside.
My final encounter with them must have taken place a couple of years later.
My mother had – somehow – become friendly with William’s mother and had offered to water the plants in their house while her and her husband were on holiday.
One Saturday, having just arrived back home from university, I’d been given the job of going over there to do the deed.
I remember that I’d whined at my mother about it, asking something like, “Why can’t William do it, where’s he?” The house was a good half mile away, after all.
“He’s up in Birmingham,” she’d snapped. “He’s got a job for the summer so he’s staying up there in his university digs.”
So I’d had to walk over to the house, let myself in and water the plants that had been left in a large huddle on the kitchen window sill.
The first thing that had alerted me to the fact that the house may not have been empty had been the empty wine bottles and discarded takeaway cartons littered around the kitchen sink. At first I’d assumed they must have been there since William’s parents had gone on holiday, but there was no mould growing inside the foil containers and the remnants of the sauce smelled quite fresh.
Then I heard the low drone of male conversation coming from upstairs.
I guess my opening the door and turning the tap on to fill the watering can had disturbed their sleep, although they hadn’t been aware of the reason they’d awoken.
I finished watering the plants, quietly, wondering who might be upstairs but unwilling to venture a look in case William’s parents had returned early. Just as I was about to leave, I heard the toilet flush.
Then I heard William shout, “D’you want a coffee, Rob?”
And Rob reply, “If you’re asking if I want something hot and wet trickling down my throat, the answer’s yes. But I’m not talking about a coffee.”
William laughed and I’d heard his footsteps beat quickly across the landing as he’d ran back into the bedroom and jumped onto the bed. The two of them had wrestled, giggling, with the bedsprings squeaking like a trapped rat.
I guess I could have left then but I was intrigued as to what might be going on between the two of them. By this stage, two years after that week on the farm, I was getting more interested in the stuff guys get up to in bed together and had even played around in that direction myself a little in my first year at uni, so the thought of taking another look at the affection between Rob and William, who must by now be comfortable with their sexualities and more at ease about the physical side of their relationship, was both appealing and arousing.
I sneaked up the first few stairs, as slowly and as silently as I could, hearing their laughter turn to kisses and their slapping and tickling turn to caresses and masturbatory rhythms. William’s bedroom seemed to be the one, from the sounds coming from behind the door, at the top of the stairs.
Halfway up I hesitated, frozen, as they stopped their foreplay and started discussing condoms. I really expected one of them to emerge from the bedroom door, en route to the bathroom to fetch a packet, and to look down the stairs straight at me.
But they found some in William’s bedside cabinet and, when they’d finished tearing a sachet open and squirting lube onto fingers, I slowly continued my ascent.
The sounds of the bedsprings started up again, creaking and squealing in a rapid rhythm, and I heard William gasping.
I thought, “Wow… he’s getting his arse fucked by Rob…” My cock began to lengthen in my boxers. I had to see this.
I crept up the last few steps and onto the landing in front of William’s bedroom door. The door was slightly ajar – they thought there was no-one in the house to overhear them – but I didn’t dare peer around it. One of them was bound to see me no matter how absorbed they were in what they were doing.
I noticed a small hole at the top of one of the upper panels in the door. The doors in the house were waxed pine, which was at that time starting to become fashionable, and the hole was made by a knot which had fallen out of the grain in the wood.
The sounds inside the room were growing louder and faster.
I heard Rob whisper, his voice shaky as if he was a state of intense pleasure, “Does that feel good?”
And William gasp, “Yeah… fantastic….”
I thought, for the second time, “I must see this!”
I stood on tip-toes to look through the hole – it was right at the upper extreme of the panel – and looked into the room.
I saw Rob’s head and upper body moving back and forth with the same rapid rhythm as the squeaking of the bedsprings. He was side-on to me, facing the wall and the head-board, and his eyes were closed in an expression of bliss.
I craned upwards to look at what was going on further down and my feet began to ache with the strain. I expected to see William on all fours on the bed, taking Rob’s cock between his red-freckled bum cheeks, but was surprised to see his hands reaching upwards to caress Rob’s stomach and chest. He must be in a different position, I figured. This could be even more interesting than I’d hoped…
I strained further upwards and managed to peer down at Rob’s waist. When William momentarily pulled his hands away from his chest, I saw Rob’s cock bobbing around in front of his stomach, as stiff as a pole and looking even longer and thicker than it had that morning on the camp-bed.
I thought, “He isn’t fucking William… what’s going on, then?”
Reaching the absolute upper limit of how tall I could make myself, I managed to look down at them right to the mattress.
I realised that I’d got it the wrong way round. Rob was riding William’s cock: the condom had been for the younger man to penetrate the older.
Rob started bobbing up and down more forcefully and, pushing William’s left hand away from his chest so that he could gain access to his own cock, he started masturbating himself quickly.
William gasped, “You getting close?”
Rob was almost panting. “Yeah… on the way…”
William stopped Rob’s movements and held his lover steady. Rob kept masturbating himself but looked down at William quizzically.
William said, “I want to fuck you from behind… I don’t think I can cum like this…”
Rob smiled at him. “Your favourite position…”
William chuckled. “Too right…”
Rob pulled himself up and off William’s cock, and his arse released it with slurp and a fart.
Then he and William changed positions on the bed. Rob bent over on all fours on the mattress, his backside towards William and his head nearly touching the headboard. William raised himself upright and, kneeling down at the foot of the mattress, positioned his cock in front of Rob’s buttocks. Even in the dim light of the room, the ginger of his pubes looked warm and bright. His cock arched upwards from them, eagerly and expectantly, with a thin spattering of brown slime glistening on the rubber of the condom.
He grabbed Rob’s hips and slid his cock smoothly into the older man’s arsehole.
Rob gasped sharply and William asked, “Is that okay?”
Rob exhaled, slowly and deeply, and replied, “It’s fine… no, actually, it’s fantastic…”
William laughed, “This isn’t just my favourite position, then…” His cock started to thrust, fairly rapidly, in and out of Rob’s arse.
“I guess not,” the farmer grunted, beginning to pant with the pleasure of feeling William’s cock moving in and out of him. “Although me fucking you like this would beat it hands down…”
William chuckled again. “Next time, mate, next time…” Then he began to buck his hips roughly and with a pretty fast rhythm as he set about fucking his lover in earnest. They started panting and gasping in unison and Rob’s hand returned to his own cock to masturbate himself back towards his own orgasm.
I was fascinated, as I watched the two of them enjoying some fairly rough and intense sex together, by what William had said. I assumed, when I’d first realised that Rob was being fucked by William, that this was the way they must always do it: the younger guy penetrating the older. To hear that they exchanged positions and that both of them, apparently, enjoyed both orientations was quite a revelation to me.
The couple of guys I’d fucked at uni – both the result of brief, drunken encounters – had simply accepted my preference to want to penetrate rather than be penetrated and I’d presumed that gay sex must always be so clear-cut. I’d gone back to their places, played around a little with them, then bent them over and fucked them: I’d simply accepted that that must be how gay guys like it.
To hear that William and Rob both enjoyed the giving as well as the receiving was something of an eye-opener. It was interesting both as a simple piece of information, something to know for Trivial Pursuit games kind of, but also from a personal point of view. Future encounters with other men, were there to be any, might be intriguingly different; new, slightly scary but undeniably arousing, possibilities were opening up…
Rob came first, spraying his torrents of semen all over the bed-sheets, with William close behind in thick pursuit. While they were cumming, William bent over his lover, wrapping his arms around his chest as he pumped his own seed into the man’s arse. The two of them panted and grunted like a couple of rutting pigs.
Then, as their orgasms subsided and their breathing became quieter, William kissed the back of his lover’s neck and whispered, “That was fantastic… I love you, Rob…”
Rob smiled, unable to turn and face his partner, and whispered, “I love you too, mate…”
They lay like that for a few seconds and I started creeping back down the stairs.
I heard Rob say, “Now get your knob out of my fuckin’ arse… I need a crap!”
And William laughing loudly and calling him disgusting.
They said more to one another but by then I was halfway across the hallway and, when I heard the bedroom door open and the two of them emerging from it, I was on the way out the back door.
I haven’t seen either of them since. I heard that Rob had sold the farm at Halstock a few years ago and that he and wife were splitting up. Maybe he moved in with William; maybe he went off alone.
I kind of hope, in my overly-optimistic and cloyingly-romantic way, that the two of them are still together, living together somewhere with Rob’s daughter coming to stay with them sometimes. That she accepts that her dad’s got a new, red-headed, lover who happens to be male and that the three of them enjoy being around one another.
Sorry, sorry – I should have kept that last thought to myself, shouldn’t I? Now I’ve got you reaching for the sick-bag…!
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