CAMERON FOSTER

By Lee Mariner

DISCLAIMER:  This is a gay fantasy and written for adult readers. All characters are fictional and in no way related to any person or persons living or deceased. IF YOU ARE NOT OF LEGAL AGE TO BE READING THIS STORY OR YOU DO NOT APPROVE OF SUCH MATERIAL, PLEASE LEAVE.

PLEASE DO NOT ENGAGE IN UNPROTECTED SEX OR USE INTRAVENOUS DRUGS.

All stories I have written are under the name Lee Mariner and can be found in the Nifty Archives of Prolific Authors.

LEGAL COPYRIGHT - ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.
This story is copyrighted © by the author and it is not to be reproduced, copied or archived on any other site without the written consent of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives for posting under the terms of their submission guidelines. 

This work has been edited by my friend Sean. Many thanks for your assistance Sean. 

If you would like to be advised of future stories or episodes of serial stories, please write:

Mariner23502@hotmail.com 

Chapter #I

This is a story about when I was living with my grandfather on his farm in the hills of Kentucky.  His father had homesteaded the land, scratching out a living with the methods and equipment of the mid-1800s tobacco was the money crop in those days and a good mule team was worth their weight in gold since tractors were only a dream and like his father before him Gramps did most of the work by hand. They had the usual hogs, chickens, turkeys, a few milk cows and a fairly decent herd of beef cattle.  They didn't starve but there was not a hell of a lot of money for fancy unneeded items.  My Mother was born on the farm but girls weren’t much help with heavy work and when Gramps needed help he would hire a couple of migrant workers for a couple of bucks and found a day.

Mother left the farm when she was seventeen and moved into an apartment with a girl she had known in school.   She got a job at an F.W. Woolworth 5 & 10 cent store working at the lunch counter and that's where she met my father and not long afterwards, I came into the picture but not really by anyone's choice, I was a mistake.  Mother was eighteen-years old and my father, whom I have never met, was twenty or so when I was born and that is really all I know about him.  I won't go into the why, where or when of the event except if it hadn't been for my grandparents, I probably would have been placed in an orphanage.  Not the first bastard ever born and damn sure not the last but that fact alone was the cause of many split lips and black eyes during my school years.  My mother would visit on special holidays and my birthday but other than that, my grandparents raised me.  My father, well who knows, I don't? In the late spring of 1936 Grandma was shooing chickens out of her vegetable garden trying to get them across the road that ran through the farm.  With all of their squawking and her shooing, she didn't see or hear the truck that came up over the hill- - - - she didn't know what hit her but I had nightmares about it for years afterwards.  I was thirteen-years-old and I was helping her by holding the fence gate open. I'm not really sure why I was since chickens were going through the gate and under the fence but I was helping Grandma.  I don't need to explain the scene unless you don't know what the sound of someone being hit by a five-ton staked bodied truck carrying five steers sounds like along with chickens squawking when the truck plowed through them.

 I don't remember a lot about that day except people were all around us helping however they could.  Gramps grieved but farm animals need taking care of and crops need planting and harvesting.  Neighbors helped as much as they could for a few days but they had their own farms to take care of as well.   I guess my working life and discovering sex really started at age twelve although I had an inkling that my life and body were changing before then from the intense feelings that would run all through me especially in my groin. 

Learning about sex was not difficult with all of the animals on the farm and my asking questions when I helped Gramps with the breeding and birthing. He tried explaining how animals mated and reproduced and he told me about the differences between girls and boys and how they would have kids much the same way farm animals did.  I knew a lot of what he told me because of an Animal Husbandry and Personal Hygiene class in school but none of it explained why I liked being around and looking at boys instead of girls or why I would get burning-like feelings in my groin and my dick would hurt from being so hard.  Jerking off in the hayloft or in the outhouse helped relieve the pressures I felt but it didn't stop the urge I felt to see another boy doing it.  Some of the kids talked about it in school but for a reason I didn't know yet, I was afraid of asking any of the other boys about trying it with me. 

I didn't know it then but my real sexual education started in the Spring of 1937, a year after my Grandmother had died, when Cameron Foster and his family drove up the road to our farmhouse in a beat up 1930 or 1931 Ford Pickup Truck, loaded with boxes, suitcases and different items of furniture and bedding.  Cameron was squeezed between his parents.

* * * * *

Gramps and I had just finished eating and while he was finishing up I figured on taking a piss behind the smoke house when I saw a truck coming up our road.  I called for Gramps and he came outside and watched with me.

"Wonder who that can be Brad? Probably someone looking for work but they sure got a heap of belongings with them to be just migrants."  He said, running his fingers through my hair and putting his arm around my shoulders. 

We watched the truck getting closer and could see two older folks and a young boy in the front seat. The man and woman looked younger than Gramps and the boy looked about fourteen, a year older than me. The man stopped the truck a few feet in front of where we were standing and as he got out he took his hat off, walking towards us, and Gramps greeted him.

"Howdy there, what can I do for ya’ll?"

"Howdy.” The older man said. “Would you be Walter Brockman?"

"That's me all right and this is my grandson Bradford, who might you be?" Gramps said putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Lucas Foster Mr. Brockman. Me and the missus and our boy, we stopped for some fuel in town and a man at the gas station told me you might be looking for some workers to help with the planting and such. My boy, Cameron, and me sure would like to help out if you are. My Missus would even be liking to do some cooking and help out around the house if you’re of a mind she might be helpful."  The man said almost not stopping to breath, anxiously twisting his beat up fedora in his hands.

Gramps was studying Mr. Foster but I was studying his boy Cameron. Sitting down he looked to be maybe half-a-head taller then me and I was five foot tall.  He looked like we might be about the same weight and he had light brown hair same as me. My eyes were hazel but I could only see that his were dark when he glanced back and forth looking at me and then at his father talking with Gramps.

"Well now Mr. Foster, I don't know, it looks like you and your family are moving on and I'd like for someone to stay through harvest. I can't pay much what with the depression and all but there's food a plenty.  Have you and your boy much experience farming and taking care of livestock and such?"

"I've been sharecropping since before and after I got out of the Army a year or so back and my boy has been helping out ever since he growed able to ride a mule.  We have been in Tennessee for the last seven years or so until the main farm we were working on was sold for back taxes and debt. The government gave us thirty days to clear out and most people said we should go out West but I figured the more that went that way the less work there would be out in them parts..  Besides that, my Missus and me was born and raised down Harlan County way and I don't cotton to getting that far away from my roots and what kin we have left.  Always hankered for my own place and I reckon things are bound to start getting better someday. We don't need much right now though to tide us over Mr. Brockman. Me and mine don't mind working so you won't have cause to fret about that.  We have tents in the truck so shelter ain't no problem."  Mr. Foster said looking Gramps in the eye still twisting his hat in his fingers.

Gramps was quiet for a long time and looking up at him I could tell he was studying on what he had been listening to when Mrs. Foster called softly from the truck. "Lucas, ask Mr. Brockman if he might spare some water."

Gramps heard her and tapped my shoulder. "I reckon we can do a little better than that Mrs. Foster. Why don't you and the boy light and come on in the house. Brad and I was just finishing up from eating. Maybe you and the boy would like some milk and biscuits with molasses while your husband and I talk a bit longer."

Cameron helped his mother out of the truck and walked over to where I was standing.  "Hi, I heard your dad call you Brad, I'm Cameron. I need to use your outhouse, wanna show me where it is?"

"He's my grandfather. The outhouse is out by the corn crib behind the house, I'll show you." I said looking into his twinkling hazel eyes. "Gramps, I’m gonna show Cameron the outhouse, then we'll be on in." 

"Be sure and check the husk-box Brad, it was almost empty."  He said, leading Cameron's folks inside the house.

"What's a husk- box?"  Cameron asked.

"You never heard of a husk-box? What do you use after you take a dump?" I said a little incredulously.

"Most of the time a Sears Roebuck Catalog or a corn cob."  Cameron said as we rounded the corner of the corncrib.

"A corncob is too rough and the Sears Roebuck pages are slick as all get out. We use corn husks." I said grinning at him. 

* * *

I never did know who had dug the outhouse hole but it was deep and big enough that if someone did fall in they would have a hard time getting out.  There really wasn't much chance of it ever happening since it had been built almost like a permanent building except it sat on skids and could be pulled to another location when the hole ever filled up.  When Cameron saw the outhouse he stopped dead exclaiming, "That's an outhouse, it ain't like none I've ever seen. Looks more like a girl's dollhouse."

"Yeah." I said grinning. "Gramps says you might as well be comfortable taking care of a bodies business. Course when were in the fields, you find a bush or a tree but you'd know about that wouldn't you?"

"Used enough I reckon, has that thing got padded seats or just a hole?"

"Gramps built it with two holes just in case there was an emergency and someone needed it when at the same time someone else was using it.  The holes got covers on them but no padding." I said pulling on the door.

 Most of the time when I needed to piss, I'd step behind a building or something where I wouldn't expose myself to anyone even though there wasn't much chance of anyone seeing us on the farm since it was only Gramps and me but seeing Cameron I felt funny, different then I had with other boys.

 I got that tingling feeling in my groin when I saw him get out of the truck and I liked the way he walked towards me his eyes running up and down my body.  We were wearing almost the same clothes, Levi bib overalls, Lil Abner clodhoppers, and long sleeve flannel shirts.  His shirt was black and red checkered and mine was plain red.  The shock of light brown hair on his head would probably never obey combing but it gave him a rakish look and his full lips glistened from the tip of his tongue moistening them, his dark brown eyes sort of glowed.  He was a year older than me and hard farm work had really helped fill him out. His shoulders were wide and even wearing baggy overalls I could see he had a small waist. Except for him being a year older we were built pretty much the same except for maybe our cocks.  My pubic hair was getting thicker but I bet his was thicker than mine.

Cameron went in ahead of me whistling low. "Boy oh boy, a two-holer."

"Take your pick." I said grabbing the husk-box. " I'll be right back."

Cameron was sitting on one of the holes when I got back with the husk-box.  His bib-overalls were down around his ankles and I noticed he wasn't wearing any underwear. He had his right hand in his crotch and with his other arm over his lap he was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His thighs and calves were smooth but covered with a light growth of golden hair and thickly muscled. When I opened the door carrying the husk-box he looked at it and then up at me grinning, "I guess those would be better then a corncob or a slick catalog page." He said nodding at the box.

"I reckon, Gramps says ain't no need to buy paper when we got cornhusks. I'll see you at the house." I said trying but not succeeding very well in keeping my eyes from drifting to his crotch.  I couldn't see his dick but I could see he had more hair in his crotch than I did.  Mine was growing pretty good but his looked thick even though his hand covered most of it.

"Okay Brad." He said looking up at me standing over him smiling, his eyes sparkling. He spread his lights slightly and running his fingers deeper into his crotch he said,  “I won’t be long.”

Running from the outhouse, I ducked around the corncrib and leaned against it trembling all over. I breathed deep trying to stop shaking and get my emotions and the exciting feelings I was having under control. I wasn't sure if he had spread his legs so I could get a better look or not but I saw the thick base of his cock and I started getting hard.   My bladder felt like it was going to burst since I still had not pissed like I had started when Cameron and his parents drove up. Unbuttoning my fly and pulling my thick hard cock out I leaned against the corncrib with one hand and holding my cock with the other tried to piss.  A golden stream arched upwards, hitting the corncrib and an intense feeling of pressure being relieved washed over me as my cock started softening.

When I heard the outhouse door bang shut I shook my cock and stuffing it back in my overalls, I ran on around the corncrib so Cameron wouldn't see me.

* * * *