Date: Tue, 24 May 2016 11:41:33 -0400
From: Griffin Acheson
Subject: Summer Farm Hand 1: The Interview

Summer Farm Hand 1:  The Interview

When I answered the Craigslist ad in March, I wondered what I might be getting into.

"Summer Farm Hand" was the title of the ad.  But it was listed in the Men
Seeking Men Personals section.

The description read,

"YOU:  willing to work hard, smooth and naked all summer long.
YOU:  have an aching feeling to be filled and stuffed.
YOU:  willing to submit to controlled chastity.
YOU:  willing to have the time of your life.
ME:  willing to shave you, train you and, work you all summer long
ME:  willing to plug your ass and control access to your cock as I see fit
ME:   willing to discipline you when you get out of line
ME:  willing to show you the time of your life.

Serious replies only."

Over the next month, we emailed back and forth.  It was clear that if I
were selected as his summer farm hand, I would give up all my friends,
family, home, Internet, music, TV, concerts, play dates, hikes ? basically
everything except that which he would see fit to allow me to have.  I would
be under his control from June 1 through August 31.  Three months.

We exchanged pics.  He was an older guy ? in his early 50s and reasonably
fit ? I suppose you have to be to be a farmer.  He was a runner and liked
the fact that I was also into running.  He assured me that I could handle
farm work even though, as a city boy all my life, I had no idea what farm
work entailed.

In mid-April, he told me I was one of his top 3, and he wanted to interview
me before making a final decision.  We agreed to meet on a Thursday night
at a truck stop outside of Southington, Connecticut.  He emailed me that,
"It will be quieter, and I can do a thorough job interviewing you and
determining your aptitude as a farm hand."

"PS," he emailed.  "Make sure you show up to the interview plugged.  And
that means you get here plugged not that you get here and then impale
yourself.  I expect you to be well stretched.  And I will be able to tell
if you are not."

He knew I lived in New York City, so that meant enduring at least 2 hours
of something up my ass while I drove up.  The longest I had ever had
something up my ass was during sex, and you know how long that usually
lasts.  I looked through my toy collection and picked out something I
believed I could endure for the "interview."

Thursday afternoon I took a shower, inserted the plug up my ass then got
dressed.  As I rode the elevator down to the street, I felt oddly out of
place.  I was certain people would be able to tell by the way I walked that
something was up ? actually in. I caught the subway to make my way to the
car rental place.  As I sat there trying to look obscure, I felt every
defect in the rail as the jostling and bumping radiated through the car,
through the seat, through the plug, and into my ass.  I sat there trying to
think of my trip to Disney World when I was five, my parent's
50th-anniversary party, Sister Mary Helen from Catholic grade school ?
anything to keep from getting an erection.

It didn't work.  I am sure everyone noticed.  I almost decided to cancel
the entire thing and go home.  But I knew once I was in the rental I would
be fine.

The bulge in my pants was obvious as I walked into the rental care center.
I quickly moved to the counter hoping that the incredibly handsome guy
sitting there would not notice.

"Why couldn't he be an ugly homely woman?" I thought.

"OK, I have you in a Chevy Spark for two days?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"Hot date?" he said looking through the counter as if he had x-ray vision
at my cock.  I blushed realizing he had seen my hard on.

"No, interview" I hesitantly replied.

"What job are your interviewing for?" he said smiling at me.

"Summer farm hand," I muttered.

"Oh really.  And you are qualified?" he asked.

"I certainly hope so? is my car ready?" I interjected.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?  My shift ends in 15 minutes."
He said almost pleadingly.

"Unfortunately no, "I replied.  I am late, and I need to show up for the
interview prepared and ready to go."

"OK, if y7ou are sure, just sign by the three Xs.  Here are your keys."

I quickly grabbed the keys and headed toward the lot

"Have a good INTERVIEW," he yelled after me.

As I got in the car, I anticipated a sense of relief from being in my now
insulated world.  I couldn't have been more wrong.  The rigid seat of the
"economy car" seemed to force the dildo deeper into my ass.  I could feel
pre-cum oozing into my fruit of the looms.  "It's going to be a long drive,
"I said unknowingly out loud

The next few hours were the most excruciating of my life.  They were also
the most pleasurable.

As I drove to Connecticut, my thoughts ran wild.  All I could think about
was getting fucked.  If I had known keeping my ass plugged like this in
public would have this effect I would have done it long ago.  I rubbed my
crotch and unzipped my pants. I reached in and set my aching cock free from
my underpants.  I couldn't help but stroke it.

I didn't want to cum, but I thought, "A little foreplay couldn't hurt."

That is until one truck driver blew his horn as he passed me.

"Fuck," I thought.  I am never going to make it to this stupid fucking
interview because I am going to get arrested."

I was so anxious about being arrested that I didn't dare stop to take a
piss even though I have to pee like a racehorse.

I was running late, so I called him to let him know what was going on.  I
told him what I was driving and described my dilemma about taking a leak
with a hard on versus being arrested.

"Hold it ?till you get here," he said.

When I finally arrived at the truck stop, I felt like I was about to
explode.

"Get a parking spot, take a leak and then find this guy," I thought as I
pulled into the parking lot.

As I drove into the entrance, a black beat-up Toyota Tacoma Double Cab
flashed its lights at me.  The driver followed me as I drove through the
parking lot and pulled next to me in the open space next to when I parked.

He rolled down the window saying, "Get in."

"I have to take a piss," I said.

He looked directly at me ? almost through me ? and repeated himself, "Get
in."

I looked at him.  He stared at me.

"Now," he said.

I got in the truck and looked at him pleading, "I have to pee.  Really.
You know I was afraid?"

"Shut up," he said reaching into the back seat of the extended cab and
grabbing a used travel mug.  "Piss in this."

I quickly grabbed the mug and unzipped my pants. I could care less ? any
shyness was completely absent. I peed and peed and peed.

"Oh my god, this cups not going be enough," I cried out.

"Then you had better stop, " he directed.

I clenched my ass to stop the flow and found that the butt plug wouldn't
let me fully stop.

"I can't," I cried.

"Stop right now or this interview is over," he said.

Somehow, with the pressure of the interview hanging over my head, I managed
to stop, I reached for the door to open it and dump out the cup.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I have to dump this out," I replied.

"No you're not," he said as he stared into my eyes.  "Drink it."

It seemed like time had stopped.  I stared at him while he stared back at
me.  It was a force of wills ? like seeing who would look away first.

"Drink it now or get the fuck out of my truck," he commanded.

I broke my stare with him and looked down at the seat between us. I knew he
had won.  He knew he had one.

I had never tasted piss before and knew I was about too.  "At least it is
mine, "I thought.

I held the mug to my mouth and tilted my head back, filling my mouth to the
cheeks.

"Swallow. Right now," he commanded.

I did.

It was horrible.  The salty, rank taste made me want to vomit.

I looked back at him pleadingly.

"Finish," he ordered.

I did.

He looked at me and smiled.  "Good boy," he said as he pushed his fingers
through my hair.

"Are you plugged?" He asked.

"Yes," I sad.

"Yes?" he replied with a long pause.

"Sir," I added.

"Very good."

"Now let me see your cock.  Hard.  Get it Hard."

It was easy.  A couple of strokes and my wood could not be contained.

He reached into the door storage space and pulled out zipped leather pouch
and some KY Kelly

He opened the pouch to reveal what looked like eight chrome plated metal
sticks.

"These are called sounds.  Have you ever seen one before?"

"No," I said nervously.  "What are they for?"

"They are medical tools used to of stretch or unblock stricture in the
urethra."

"What?"

"They make your dick hole wider."

"Oh"

"By the end of the summer we will stretch your dick hole so wide I will be
able to put a toothbrush in you."

"But for now let's get started with this one."

He pulled out the second smallest then handed it to me with the KY.

"Put it in," he commanded.

"I don't know how," I replied.

"Put some lube on it and then plate the tip in your hole.  Relax and just
let it slowly slide in by itself."

I did as he instructed and he coached and offered encouragement while the
sound slid into my cock.

It was like nothing I have ever experienced before. The sensation and
stimulation coming from inside my dick was unbelievable.  I sighed in
ecstasy.

"OK," he said.  "You can go ahead and take it out."

"That's it?" I asked.

"Well for that part of the interview, that's it.  You passed.  You have a
nice dick."

Once I removed the sound and handed it back to him, I was given two more
items: a pair of handcuffs and a spider gag.

"Put them on," he ordered.

"Here?!" I asked concerned about doing this parked in a truck stop.

"For sure."

I did as I was told needing a just little assistance with the handcuffs as
they were behind my back..  Then he unzipped his Carhartt jeans and pulled
out his cock.  Reaching behind my head with his right hand he pulled me
forward toward his lap.  With my hands secured, I had no way to balance and
had no choice.  He guided my head to his cock and then pushed down.  With
my mouth held open by the spider gag, I had no choice but to swallow his
cock.

His cock wasn't huge as cocks go but it was big enough and long.  I found
myself struggling to breathe.

As I couldn't swallow, I could feel saliva dripping from my mouth all over
his lap.  The only sound that came from me was something combined from
gagging and gurgling.  The torment seemed unending.

Then I felt his hand lightly stroke the head of my cock.  "God what the
fuck is wrong with me?" I thought.  "I am, rock hard!"

"No dribbling," he commanded as he lightly pinched the head of my dick
between his thumb and index finger.

Suddenly I felt like I was going to vomit.  The stimulation had provided
only a momentary distraction from my predicament, and now his hand was on
the back of my head pushing down and inevitably pressing my mouth and
nostrils tight into his groin.

Suddenly my urge to vomit was overcome by another urge ? the urge to
breathe!

I tried to bring my head up and get desperately needed air into my lungs
but between the handcuffs, and the force he held on the back of my head, I
could not.

I thought I would pass out.  I could sense tears streaming down my face.
It felt like my eyes were going to explode from my skull.

Then I heard him say in a low, solid tone, "Fuck" and I could feel his cock
throbbing and pulsing in my throat.

Darkness started to invade my awareness as I his cum spilled down my
throat.  I felt the world spinning then a wave of spasms penetrated my
awareness as I experienced wave after wave after wave of the most intense
orgasm of my entire life.

Next thing I knew I was sitting back up resting against the passenger door
of his truck.

My hands were uncuffed.  The gag was removed.  My underpants and jeans were
pulled back up though my jeans were still unbuttoned and unzipped.

He just sat there with a half-smile, silently looking into my eyes.

Minutes rolled by and we just sat there in silence.

Finally, he said, "Well, how was it?"

"OK, I guess," I lied in a slight whisper.  "I have a sore throat."

"That's it? ?OK, I guess'?  ?I have a sore throat'?  You came buckets all
over my seat without even touching your cock, and that's all you have to
say?"

"It was incredible," I confessed.

"If you are up for more I'd like you to be my summer farm hand," he said.

"You mean I passed?" I asked.

"You passed," he confirmed.  "When do you want to move in?"

"I don't know.  Now.  Soon.  Fuck this could be incredible. I don't even
know where he lives.  Can I trust him? I don't even know his name.  Sure I
can tell I can trust him" I rambled on not realizing that I was speaking
out loud and not to myself.

"I live in Vermont, son.  On 100 acres.  Secluded.  There's no cell
service, Wi-Fi, TV, Facebook ? it is out there.  I can give you
directions."

"Next weekend," I offered.

"Next weekend it is," he said as he scribbled directions to his place on a
scrap of paper.  "Be there at noon on Saturday. Not a minute earlier and
not a minute later."

"OK," I tried to say in a calmly even though it was clear by my smile and
posture that I was psyched at the prospect.  "I have got a lot to do.  I
have to quit my job, I have to try and sublet my apartment, I have to get
my finances on autopilot.  I have to."

"You have to keep yourself plugged all week," he interrupted me.

"What?" I asked.

"You heard me."

He stared at me.  I looked away from him and gazed out at the truck stop
parking lot.

"Of course, you can take it out to go to the bathroom.  But it goes right
back in afterward."

I didn't respond.

"And you sleep with it in."

I didn't respond.

"Am I clear?" he said commandingly.

"You are clear. And I will do it," replied grudgingly.

"Good.  Now get out."

I zipped and buttoned my pants and stepped out of his truck as he started
his rig.

He rolled down his window as if he already knew I needed a little extra
push and said, "All week."

I just stood there.

"You'll have a fun time ? like a baby sucking on a pacifier ? plugged
twenty-four-seven," he assured me.  You are quite the handsome young man.
Got the directions?  See you Saturday?"

"Got the directions, you'll see me Saturday."

"Great," he smiled as he rolled up the window and started to drive away.

"Wait!" I shouted as he continued to drive off, unaware of my plea.

"I don't even know your name," I muttered to myself.

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