Copyright © 2003
By Lee Mariner
This is a gay fantasy that depicts homosexual acts between
males. It is intended for ADULTS ONLY. If you are not of
legal age in your locality to be reading it or should you not approve
of such material, please leave.
The author's copyright © and all provisions of the original
disclaimer remain in force. All Rights are Reserved.
Life is what you make of it, not what
others make of it for you.
Please do not use
intravenous drugs or engage in unsafe sex.
This and all of my stories are edited by my
friend Dean. His assistance is invaluable and much appreciated.
All of my stories can be found in the Nifty Archives listing of
Prolific Author's: prolific.html#leemariner
If any reader would like to be notified of future episodes to this and
other stories, please contact me at: firstname.lastname@example.org
Chapter # 8
We heard Fred and Charlie moving through the willows while we were
finishing our bath, and it gave us a start until we realized what it
was. Both of them stood at the pond's edge looking at us
for a moment with their ears pointed forward and moving their huge
heads slowly from side to side with their nostrils flared. It was
as if they
were trying to be sure that what they were seeing was two laughing,
naked boys splashing each other with water. Charlie, seemingly
unconcerned as always, lowered his muzzle into the water to drink while
Fred, always the more suspicious, looked at us a few seconds longer
before snorting and joining Charlie.
Cam, grinning and looking at me, started splashing water in their
direction; but it didn't phase either one of them, and I laughed aloud
his futile efforts to get a rise out of one of them.
"Come on, Cam, they aren't paying any attention to you. Let's dry
off and get back up to the house before Gramps and your Dad get back,"
I said, still laughing.
"I know that. Brad; I was just letting them know it was us," he
we waded out of the water up onto the embankment.
"They never would have drunk if they hadn't know who we were,
dummy," I said,
bending over to pick up our towels and throwing one to him.
We stood, looking at each other for a second, and the warm feeling I
felt earlier engulfed me except it was stronger than before. I
what had changed between us; I didn't want to lose him. I wanted
with him always, not just for the summer or until his parents
decided they had to move on. I shivered at the thought; and Cam,
with his towel around his shoulders, moved closer, asking softly,
"Are you all right, Brad? You look kinda funny."
I felt chilly for a minute there, that's all," I answered as I
started briskly drying off.
"Maybe we shouldn't have gone swimming?" He asked, a note
of worry in his voice.
"Nah...," I'm okay," I answered, trying to lessen his concern, but
feeling good that he was worried about me. "We had better hurry,"
said "or we both are gonna catch it."
and Lucas were turning into the yard off of the road as we came from
the house. Cam's mother must have heard them and was walking to
the fence gate. When we let out a holler at seeing them, she
clapped her hands to her ears and, giving us a look of mock horror,
exclaimed, " My stars, hush!! There ain't no need for
all of that racket."
"Yes, Ma'am," we both said together, skidding to a halt and staying our
distance even though there was a twinkle in her eyes when she scolded
"Sorry, Mom," Cam said, sheepishly as we edged closer to where
she was waiting at the gate.
"Well, I should think you would be," She said, "Hollering like
that, you might near burst a body's ear drums."
We could see she was not really angry, but Cam knew his mother better
than I did, so we didn't risk teasing her anymore and stood back
watching and waiting until Gramps and Lucas got out of the truck.
She looked at us before turning her attention back to her husband and
Gramps and saying, "I was wondering if'n yo'all would be back before my
supper went to ruin. There's fried chicken in the warmer, and I
fixed biscuits and gravy like Walter asked for. I'd a had some
sliced tomatoes if'n a couple of boys I know hadn't spent the afternoon
swimming instead of being here to pick them for me," she said,
looking at us with a smile.
"We can still get some for you, Mrs. Foster. It won't take a
minute," I offered, glancing at Cam as I said it.
"Yeah, Mom, how many do you want?" Cam said quickly.
"Well, I never," she replied, placing her hands on her hips and
glancing at Lucas and Gramps who were standing behind her and
grinning. "Just how many tomatoes do you reckon the five of us
can eat? Go on with you and pick what you reckon is
enough," she scolded, obviously enjoying the pickle we had put
ourselves in by asking a dumb question.
She wasn't done with us. No sooner had we turned to scamper away,
we heard her calling out, "Mind you don't pick any overly ripe ones,
don't get any more dirt on those towels, or I'll have to boil'em to
get 'em clean."
The vegetable garden wasn't as big as it had been when Grandmother was
alive, but in early spring Gramps and I had planted what most farmers
raised for their own use. There were several beefsteak tomato
plants, a few squash, cucumber plants, scallions and several rows of
potatoes and silver queen table corn. I had tried planting
radishes and lettuce, but they didn't do well, so we hoed them under
with the weeds.
"Mom, acts like she's mad lots of times, Brad; but most of the time she
is only funning. I can tell when she is funning, but I
her too much, or she will get mad," Cam said while we were gathering
thought were the best tomatoes and putting them into the still damp
towel that had been around his neck.
"I'm glad you know that," I answered. "I reckon she could get
downright mad if she was a mind to. She reminds me of my
"She can; and, if your grandma was like her, I reckon she didn't mind
using a belt," he said with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes as he
stood up looking at me and rubbing his butt.
"Grandma would get mad at me and smack my butt, but she left the
whippings up to Gramps," I said, reminiscing about the times
Gramps had used his belt on my butt.
Laughing out loud, Cam asked, "how many times has your Grampa whupped
"Enough," I answered, irritated at first but then laughing with
said, as we started back to the house, "He only acted like he was
laying it on, so Grandma would think he was doing it. He'd take
out by the corn-crib and tell me to holler so she would hear when he
swatted me, but he never really hurt me. I haven't given
him any cause to be angry
since she died."
"My Dad is the same way, but..." he said stopping. "There was one
time when he caught me jerking off in the outhouse that I thought I was
gonna get it. I used to look out through the cracks in the door,
so I wouldn't get caught doing it. One time, though, it was
really getting good; and I wasn't looking through the door crack and
hear or see him
coming. Just as I was ready to blow my load, he opened the
door. Jesus, Brad, he scared the shit out of me; and, I
didn't know what to do," he said. He had a dreamy look in his eyes and
the bulge growing under his overalls.
"What'd he do, Cam?" I asked, feeling my cock starting
to get hard and watching him as he rubbed his.
"What? Oh yeah," he answered, still squeezing his cock. "He only
what your doing, and we'll talk;' that's all."
"That's all? He didn't whip you or nothing?" I asked incredulously.
"Nope," he answered. "All he did was
tell me about what he called 'the birds and the bees. He
did tell me that all boys jerk off, and I reckon he knew I had been
already; but, if he did, he didn't say anything. He did tell me
that he had wanted to talk with me about sex when he realized how fast
was growing excepting he hadn't had time what with all the moving we
had been doing. It didn't make any difference as I already
knew most of it from hearing other boys in
school, but I didn't let on like I did."
"Jeez...," I said softly still a little amazed at what he had said.
"I ain't sure, but I reckon Gramps might have done the same if'n
he had ever caught me. Did you finish jerking off after he left?"
"Like as not, your Grandpa would've if'n he had caught you; and, no, I
didn't finish. I didn't have a hardon after he opened that
door. Damn, if we had the time, I surely would like to jerk off
right now; but we better be getting
these tomatoes to the house before Mom comes looking for us.
Maybe, we can take care of the problem after supper in the
two-holer," he said as he grabbed my cock and squeezed before I
could jump back.
I gasped at the sensation of his hand squeezing my aching cock; but,
when I reached for his, he moved out of my reach laughing; and, holding
the tomatoes with one hand, he acted like he was jerking off with the
When we reached the house my cock was still half hard, but I
couldn't see whether Cam's was the same way because of the way he was
hiding his crotch with the towel filled with the tomatoes which we had
picked. When we entered the kitchen, his mother
looked at us quizzically and said, " The garden patch ain't far;
what'd you do, pick'em or grow'em?"
"No, Ma'am. You told us not to pick soft ones, so we
It took us a little longer to get the kind you wanted," he said to her,
just a little sassier than I thought he should have since I wasn't
exactly sure how
to take his mother. For a moment, I thought he was in trouble
until his father spoke up from where he and Gramps were sitting at the
"Elizabeth, don't be picking on the boys. It looks like they were
doing what you told them," he said softly, nodding at the tomatoes she
had laid out on the sink drain board.
Leaning against the sink, she inhaled deeply; and, looking sideways at
both of us standing a few feet away, she said wearily as she wiped
brow with her forearm, "I'm sorry, Boys, I didn't mean to be doing no
harm. It's been a long day; and, what with cleaning the house all
then fixin supper, I'm a little out of sorts. Forgive me if it seems
like I am picking on you."
Cam went to his mother; and, putting his arms around her, he gave her a
hug and kissed her cheek, saying softly, " That's okay, Mom."
His mother looked into his eyes for a moment; and, running her fingers
through his hair, she stroked his cheek
gently. From the way she looked at Cam, I understood what he
meant when he had said she wasn't always angry even though she acted
like she was. I could see that he knew how to make
her feel better.
A twinge of regret went through me that I hadn't known the feelings
that Cam's mother had for him, and I moved to join them asking, "Can I
give you a hug, Aunt Elizabeth?"
"Of course you can, Honey, you're my boy now," she said softly,
gathering us both to her, a
motherly tone in her voice that I had only heard from my grandmother.
We stood holding each other for a few moments when we heard a loud,
followed by, "We are going to eat before the cows need milking, ain't
I could tell from the way that Gramps was laughing, and
the way his eyes were glistening that there were tears in his eyes that
he was happy. That made me feel good since he
hadn't been very happy after Grandma had died.
Walter, as soon as the boys wash their hands and I get these tomatoes
sliced and on the table, we'll eat. I don't reckon you and Lucas
in the next five minutes or so," Cam's mother said, gently pushing us
away and turning to the sink.
Cam's mother was placing the freshly sliced tomatoes on the table when
came back into the kitchen from washing up. She pulled her chair
back from the table; and, waving us to our chairs, she sat down next to
Lucas, taking his hand in hers and reaching for Gramps's hand.
Cam and I sat down and, joining our hands with theirs, we bowed our
heads while Gramps said grace. When he had finished, he
looked around the table; and his weathered face broke
into a smile followed by, "Brad and I ain't sat down to or seen this
table set like
this for supper in a long time, Elizabeth. I didn't reckon we
ever would after my missus passed on. I reckon she's smiling
down on us now that you're with us and we can start eating proper
again. She surely enjoyed cooking, but I can't fix like she
and Brad and me have sorta made do in the kitchen. Ain't we,
Bradford?" He said, beaming, as he took two pieces of chicken
from the large platter Lucas had passed to him.
sat eating and listening to Gramps and Lucas talking about the farm,
crops, cattle and other livestock. Cam's
mother sat quietly listening, but her eyes were watching our plates,
she would pass us the bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans or
more of the milk gravy that was almost as good as Grandma's.
Every now and then, she would get up to refill coffee cups and our milk
Cam, I was learning, had a streak of devilment in him, and he liked to
tease. When he thought no one was paying any attention to us, he
would rub his leg against mine and quickly reach under the table and
squeeze my thigh, causing me to tense up; and then he would grin
impishly. I gave him several warning glances, but it didn't deter
him, and he would keep it up. For all of my fear of being
caught, my cock ached from being hard and trapped inside my briefs.
I enjoyed the feel of him touching me and the exciting
sensations that rushed through me each time he did.
When we were almost finished with supper, his mother got up from
the table and, going to the stove, produced a freshly baked
cinnamon apple pie. When she placed it on the table, the four of
us, Gramps, Lucas, Cam and I, groaned. Lucas looked at Gramps and
us; and then he looked up at his wife saying, "Oh, Lord,
don't believe any of us can eat another bite," he said, patting his
stomach. "I know it is delicious, but you might have warned us
so we wouldn't have eaten so much."
"Humph, I don't believe a word of that Lucas Foster. I know how
you like my pies; and, now that I have a decent oven to bake in, you're
gonna tell me you and Walter don't want a slice with your
coffee?" She said, looking at us. "I know you boys do,
"Yes, Ma'am," we both said together.
"I reckon that settles it, Elizabeth," Gramps said, leaning back in his
chair and rubbing his stomach.
Cam's mother cut five huge slabs of the pie, emptying the pan except
for a few crumbs. After filling the coffee cups and our milk
glasses, she sat down with a smile and a triumphant gleam in her eyes.
While we were eating, the clang of a cow bell could be heard; and
Gramps, looking out the door and cocking his head, said, "That's Marcey
leading the herd in for milking; she's never late. "If you boys
are finished eating, you might as well go on out to the barn and start
filling the hay troughs. Don't open the doors before we get out
there, or they will eat too much before we get 'em milked. Lucas
me will be there by the time you've finished."
"Yes, Sir," we answered, pushing our chairs back and rushing out of the
As soon as we were outside and out of ear shot, I playfully punched Cam
in the ribs, saying, "You're crazy, you know that?"
"Why, what did I do?" he replied innocently and playfully grabbed at
"You know what you were doing," I answered as we walked and arm
wrestled. "You were playing legsy with me and squeezing the top of my
leg under the table; that's what you were doing. I had a hardon
all the time we were eating."
"You still hard?" He asked, chuckling, grabbing at my crotch and
squeezing my still half hard cock.
"It's not as hard as it was," I answered, trying to grab his
He avoided my hand by twisting away and back-pedaling in front of me
just out of
reach. "Wait until later," he said, breathing a little heavily
from back-pedaling, and looked at me with a devilish
grin, his eyes sparkling.
Gramps and Lucas came into the
barn just as we were finishing forking hay into the
troughs. Gramps checked on what we had done; and, nodding
his approval, said, "Open the doors and let'em in. Watch out for
that new guernsey, Brad, she's still a little skittish."
"Okay, Gramps," I hollered as I followed Cam between the yokes to the
When we reached the doors, we could hear the clanging of Marcey's bell
mixed with the impatient lowing of the other cows and the
bawling of hungry calves in the holding pens. When we started to
lift the bars that locked the doors, I looked at Cam, saying, "You know
what a guernsey looks like, don't you, Cam?"
"Sure do, why?"
"She might knock you on your butt, that's why. You're on the right
and that's the side she'll be on when the doors open. She
knows her calf is over on that
side in the holding pens, and that's where she'll head."
"I can handle her," he called back cockily as the doors swung open from
the force of the cows pushing against them. The cows
streamed through the doors lowing and pushing against each other
trying to reach their milking stalls and the fresh hay.
I jumped back keeping the door between me and them, and I lost sight of
Cam. When I looked to see how he was doing, I couldn't see him;
but I could see the guernsey shoving her head through the yoke in the
end stall, bawling for her calf. I panicked, hollering,
"Cam, Cam! Where are you; you okay?"
When he didn't answer, I spun around looking for Gramps or Lucas.
I saw them still in the milk room getting the pails and wash buckets.
For a second, I didn't know what to do; and then a picture of
him on the ground behind the door flashed in my head. Panicky, I
pushing and slapping at the cows, trying to get to the other
Fear bubbled up in my throat, and I was hollering for him when I
finally reached the the door. Fearing the worst, I swung the door
back and saw him sitting in the mud, laughing his head off. When
he looked up at me and saw me standing wide-eyed over him, he laughed
harder. For a second I felt anger because I had been so scared
and he was just sitting in the mud and laughing as if nothing had
happened. I started to curse at him; but, when I saw he was all
muddy but okay, a feeling of relief swept over me; and I dropped down
my knees, laughing with him.
"I..., I, told you to be careful," I stammered, trying to breathe
and laugh at the same time.
"Yeah, you did. That's the first time a cow has knocked me on my
ass. Damn, Brad, she really came through the door," he
replied, breathing hard and chuckling as he wiped his muddy hands on
We didn't hear Gramps and Lucas come up behind us until Gramps spoke,
"You're lucky that guernsey didn't stomp you, Son. It don't pay
get lazy around cows that want milking, especially those with calves
bawling to be fed."
"He knows better, Walter," Lucas said with an irritated tone in his
"I reckon he's learned some about Guernseys, Lucas," Gramps said,
looking at Cam's Dad with a twinkle in his eyes and
chuckling under his breath.
"I reckon maybe he has. But now he better wash that mud off'n his
start washing udders, so we can get to milking, or he might learn
"You too, Brad, gotta work off that apple pie," Gramps said, glancing
at Lucas and chuckling.
"Yes, Sir," I replied; jumping up and helping Cam up.
While we were washing our hands in the milk room, Gramps and Lucas
locked the yokes in place around each cow's neck. I showed
Cam where the antiseptic was stored, and he watched while I
mixed the solution that we used for cleaning the cows's
When we had two pails mixed, he asked, "Why do you use that
stuff, it smells worsen cow shit? Me and Dad always used plain
"Cause, dummy, that's what the dairy tells us we have to do. We
sell the milk to the dairy that does the pasteurizing and
processing before they bottle it for delivery and sale in stores," I
replied. "They have big trucks that come around
the first of the week and pick up the milk."
"How do they get it in the truck?" He asked as we went back into the
"The driver has a pump, but I don't have to tell you; you'll see how
it's done when the truck comes on Monday. Come on, we
better start washing; or we're going to get in more trouble."
"Oh...oh, yeah," he replied anxiously; picking up a pail and following
Gramps had eleven cows for milking, ten Holsteins and one
Guernsey. Having Cam helping me with washing their udders
and Lucas helping Gramps reduced milking time from over an
hour or so to a lot less. They both talked to the cows as they
were milking, and I could hear Gramps calling them by name, smacking
one or two on the haunches so they would move and give him room to get
between them. We could hear Cam's Dad talking low much like
Gramps did, and every now and then he would call one, "Bossy" or "Old
Girl", slapping her gently.
When we had finished our part, we stood aside watching; and, when they
filled a pail, we would take it into the milk room and pour it into the
large dairy milk cans. While we were waiting, I could see that
Lucas was almost as good a milker as Gramps; and I looked at Cam, who
was standing next to me with his hands tucked under the bib of his
overalls. "Your Dad is almost as good as Gramps at milking," I
said, a little boastfully.
Lowering his head a little closer to mine, he said, "he could do
but he's told me that when you're working for someone, never
"How come? Wouldn't you want to show how good you are so they'd
want to keep you on?" I
asked, a little puzzled.
"Some folks don't like being bettered, Brad, especially if they
get to thinking you might be trying to show them up," he said as he
looked to where his Dad and Gramps were milking with their heads
pushing against the cows's flanks. "Grownups are funny about
things, Brad, and Dad ain't gonna try and show he's a better
milker, at least not until Uncle Walter and him know each other
"But your Dad is younger than Gramps, and I reckon he knows your Dad
should be faster," I said.
"Yeah, I reckon so; but most grown men take pride in what they
do. It don't
make no difference how old they are; they don't like being beat.
Ain't you ever been to a
county fair and watched the milking contests?"
"We haven't been to one since Grandma died," I said. "She used to
enter some of her canned pickle relish and sauerkraut in a contest, but
Gramps never did anything like that. He liked to walk around,
meet his friends and talk about how the crops were doing, stuff like
"That's what most of them do at the fairs, Brad; but, sauerkraut, yuk,
how can you eat that stuff? I don't like it," he said grimacing.
"Grandma used to fix it with sausage that she had made or with
I bet you would have liked it the way she fixed it with sugar to take
the sour taste off of it." I said, punching him playfully in his
"Not likely," he answered, smiling and grappling with me until we heard
Gramps's gruff, "You boys helping with the milking, or would you rather
on to the house and help with the dishes and cleaning the kitchen?"
"Yes, Sir, no Sir," we both answered, spinning around and seeing them
"Then you better empty these two pails and bring us two more so we can
finish," Cam's Dad said seriously.
Scurrying off, we did as we were told and concentrated more on getting
the milking done than on who would or would not be the better at
milking. There were several cats milling around underfoot
and making a racket with their incessant mewing waiting for what Gramps
called their pay. We never fed
them real cat food since it was more or less their job to keep the mice
under control. He believed that, if you fed them, they would lose
their hunting instincts but cats being cats would always want milk;
and he would fill a large pan for them when we were done.
After the cows were milked, Gramps and Lucas brought the nursing calves
from their pen. I had always thought that the way they would push
their muzzles into their mothers' udders would hurt the mothers; but,
from what Gramps explained to me, it was their way of getting the
remnants of milk that hadn't been stripped down.
Cam and I released the other cows from their yokes, and they slowly
ambled outside not paying any attention to the calves. Every now
and then, one of them would swing her huge head sideways for a look
or a sniff; but a sharp slap would send them on. Gramps had
always told me to never stand behind one when I did slap, or I might
get a swift kick where I didn't want it. I knew he meant my
balls, so I was always careful to stand off to the side. When the
calves finished nursing, they were put, bawling, back
in the holding pen; and we released their mothers.
"You boys clean the runway while Lucas and I finish storing the milk
and doing the recording," Gramps said. Just as they started to
enter the milk room, he turned around saying, "and don't be playing
with the water hose, Bradford."
"Yes, Sir," I answered, knowing that, when he used Bradford rather than
Brad, he was
Cleaning the runway was the nasty job of making sure that all of the
cow dung was scooped into wheelbarrows and carried to a large
pile outside of the barn for disposal. After that was
done, we hosed the runway clean before spreading lime. When
we finished, I could feel the sweat running
down my ribs and in the crack of my ass. I could tell that Cam
was feeling the same
way I was, and he gave me a distasteful look.
"Damn, Brad, that's a hell of a lot of work just to milk cows," he
said, putting his hand on the small of his back and arching
backwards. "We never did anything like that."
Mimicking him, I stretched my aching muscles, grinning at him.
"If you had wanted to sell the milk, you would have had to do it.
When the milk is
picked up, one of the men will check the barn to be sure it's being
clean," I said, taking my kerchief out of my pocket to wipe the sweat
from my forehead and neck. "I thought it was too much work also
at first, and I used
to complain until Gramps explained to me how many families drink the
milk from our farm and lots of other farms like ours. The men on
check, but the County Health Department inspectors really do an inspection," I said,
emphasizing their thoroughness.
He puzzled for a minute before answering, still a little skeptical, "I
reckon; you might be right, but the way we cleaned up it seems like an
awful lot of extra
work just to milk a few cows."
"Brad's right, Son," Cam's father said from behind us. "If the
and the animals ain't kept clean, Mr. Brockman could lose his permit to
sell his milk; and, times being what they are, a body can't afford to
lose his health permits.
"Besides that, Cam," Gramps said stepping alongside Lucas, "those few
cows produce a lot of milk. If it's not sold, what would we do
with it, pour it out?"
"I don't reckon you could do that, Uncle Walter, I just ain't never
thought about it like that," Cam answered sheepishly.
"Time was, Cam, I didn't have so many milk cows," Gramps said, ruffling
Cams hair and looking at Lucas with a smile. "We only had
Marcey. She produced enough for drinking and for Brad's
make butter. But when the depression set in and the crops
weren't selling, I added a few more. We've always been able to
eat; but sometimes we need cash for store bought things such as salt,
sugar, matches, things we can't grow. I don't want you thinking
you're being bawled out, but I reckon you understand that don't you?"
"I reckon he does, Walter," Lucas said, with an amused look on
his face. "We're about finished here, Walter, so why don't we
let'em run on up to the house and clean up while we close the barn.
"I want to check the guernsey's record before we leave, but I don't see
why not," he replied to Lucas and then said, "Do you think,
Elizabeth might have one of her pies hidden away for later? My
missus most always baked at least two, and another slice along with a
cup of coffee on the front porch would surely go down nicely."
"She just might, Walter, she just might," he answered grinning
and looking at
We took the hint and scampered from the barn with Cam a couple of steps
ahead of me, headed in the direction of the outhouse.