Date: Tue, 06 Nov 2001 21:55:31 -0500 From: Tom Cup Subject: Haying Season - gay male/Youth Adult/incest Haying Season By Tom Cup Copyright 2001 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving youth/youth or adult/youth sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ This story is part of the Tom Cup Library Please visit the member's area of the Tom Cup Library for: "The Lion of Bolognia" (Kevin) "Calvin" "Angel" "David's Christmas Present" (Revised with new additions and chapters by Tom Cup); "A Place Called Home" "In Memory of Steve" "Tommy -- The Return "Stephen Miller's Journal" "Terms of Living" and many more series and short stories! ************************************************************************ To support this and other stories by Tom Cup, join the Tom Cup Library at: http://tomcup.iscool.net. Be sure to cast your Vote in the Tom Cup Polls, view the excerpt from Calvin part 3, check out the pre-launch of the Tom Cup Girlztown Library, and the New Coming of Age Film Section! I am please to introduce a very promising author in Richard Dean. His first work, "The Innocents" is now available to Library members. The story deals with an American who falls in love with a Brazilian street child. This story is full of insights from Richard's experiences in Brazil. Also, I care about your ideas for the site so please do drop me a line with your ideas. We are continuing our modification of the site to make it the best of its kind. Your opinions matter! As always, thanks for your support; now on to the story. Tom. *********************************************************************** Haying Season By Tom Cup The thunder clapped and I began counting. One. Two. Three. Lightening flash. The room was dark. Uncle Frank ordered all lights out by nine o'clock. If you weren't tired enough to sleep by then -- he believed -- then it was sure as shooting that you weren't working hard enough. The first ping of the rain hit the tin roof. The drops came unevenly, at first, dancing before finally drumming a steady rhythm. I knew that Uncle would be pissed, another morning of wet alfalfa and no haying getting done. It didn't bother me. I hated being out in the middle of nowhere -- where not having a television (just forget about a satellite dish, cable or Nintendo) was seen as a badge of honor -- with my Uncle's God's green pasture, and honest day's labor, illusions. I tossed and turned trying to summon sleep with my fitful dance. Mom had warned me. One more late night out without permission, one more detention in school, one more anything and she would ship me off to where I couldn't get into trouble. I didn't think such a place existed. Wrong. Here it was. This wasn't God's country. I was stuck somewhere between purgatory and hell. I got up to see if I could find something in the refrigerator to sedate me. The wooden floorboards creak as I tiptoed past Uncle's room. I wondered if central heating ever occurred to him but realized that was a foolish question. How stupid of me to walk through the house in just a pair of briefs. I hated sleeping in anything else. I loved the feel of sheets draping over my fifteen year old body, touching my skin; another pleasure, no doubt, I would soon be giving up. The refrigerator door was open. I could see the light silhouetting Uncle's body -- He was naked -- His head poking inside, looking for something, his ass jetting out in my direction. His body was slim and firm. His muscles were clearly defined, use to obeying his orders instantly, like soldiers commanded by a respected general. I was in awe. Why did he cover that body with long johns and overalls? He stood up. A beer was in his hand. He popped the tab and brought it to his lips, gulping. Turning, he saw me standing there. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. My eyes took in his chest, his flat six packed abdomen, the line of hair leading down... down to his pubic mound, curly, bushy, surrounding his cock. His cock. I was staring at his cock. It bulged slightly outward in the center of the shaft. The head round and bulbous, pale red and glistening. My mouth was dry. I licked my lips. Though he was staring at me, I didn't believe he saw me -- so dispassionate was his gaze. He finished the beer, belched, and grabbed another. He held it up -- questioning -- I nodded. "Better take your hand off that," he said nodding toward my crotch. I looked down. My cock was pressing hard against my briefs as I fondled it. I blushed and removed my hand, making my cock's attempted escape even more obvious. "Sorry," I whispered. "It's OK. One of the advantages of living out here: nobody snooping around." I step forward and took the beer. He watched me drink it. I watched him watching me. His hand began fondling his own member. Slowly it began to grow. I finished the beer and place the can on the table. My eyes again focused on his crotch. "Doesn't sound like we are going to get much done in the morning," he said. "Yeah." The rain drowned my labored breathing. His cock was pointing at me. He had worked it until it was as hard as my own. "Your mom says you're something of a smartass. Says you need a man in your life. Someone that can handle you. Make you behave. Is that right?" I was trembling. My knees felt weak. I nodded. He patted the table. I didn't understand. "Drop your drawers and bend your ass over the table," he instructed. I did as I was told. I looked over my shoulder to see him reach into the cupboard for something: Crisco. I watched him dip his fingers in the grease and rub it slowly over his cock. Then his hand was playing with my ass. "Uhn!" I cried as his finger forced its way into me. "Did that hurt?" "A little." "I thought you were a big man. That's what your mom says. You come and go as you please, do what you want. If you're a man, you got to take things like a man. Understand?" "Yes." A second finger made its way into me. And then a third. My cock ached. I reached for it but Uncle forbade me. His hand moved in and out of me. He questioned me. Had I done this before? No. Did I like it? Yes. Did I want him to fuck me? I don't know. Yes, I guess. He told me to grab the edge of the table. I held on to it with all my strength. I was crying out of fear and excitement. I didn't know what was coming. Uncle taunted me. "A big man like you crying. What the fuck is that about?" "I don't know. I'm scared. I don't want you to hurt me." "So you're no as big a man as you thought." "No." "But you do want me to fuck you, don't you?" "Yes." I felt the head of his cock kissing my ass lips. He didn't rip into me, as I feared. He slowly ground into me until I was use to the feeling of him being there, and I opened to him. I gasped as the head slipped passed the tight ring. He continued making small circular motions. The moments pain was replaced with fullness and pleasure. "Now Brandon, I'm going to tell you something. That's my baby sister you been disrespecting. I want that to stop. Do you understand?" "Yes." He pushed himself completely in me. I sighed in relief. He began bucking in and out of me. "You like this don't you?" "Yes." "Well if you want this, you behave at home. Got it?" "Oh, yes." His hands grabbed my slender hips. He guided me back toward his cock as it glided in and out of me. My cock was leaking strings of clear slobber. I was grunting. "I'll do anything," I said, "Anything you say." "That's what I wanted to hear." He flipped me over on the table. His cock still buried in my ass. My legs were pushed back toward my head, my knees against my chest. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to him. I screamed my pleasure. He fucked me with abandon. "You're going to be a good boy now." "Yes sir. Yes sir, Uncle. I'll be good!" He pushed deep into me. Again, I screamed -- my stomach muscles pressed hard, my ass clamped around his cock, my balls drew up tight against my body, I was shaking uncontrollably -- he continued pounding in and out of me as the fountain of my youth released the first gush of its milky joy. "Oh God... Oh God!" I cried and finally he answered my call and Uncle anointed my insides. ***** Mom remarked how I had changed. She said that haying really agreed with me. She said I seemed more mature, somehow. She said she liked the effect that Frank had on me. I agreed that being with Uncle Frank was what I needed. A boy needs a man around. Someone that speaks the language a boy understands -- someone to give him a sore ass when he needs it. Mom laughed and rustled my hair. She said that I was too big for her to do that. I knew she wouldn't understand what I meant. But she was right; I did like haying season. *********************************************************************** Send comments to: tom_cup@hotmail.com To support this and other stories by Tom Cup, join the Tom Cup Library at: http://tomcup.iscool.net. Coming soon to the Tom Cup Library: Donna: The serial story of the younger sister of Kevin. Barb, Chuck and Kevin have all left their imprints on this young girl's life. Can she overcome the hurt and pains left behind from the tragic events surrounding her life? ***********************************************************************