Date: Sun, 23 Jan 2005 16:48:53 -0500 (EST)
From: ulrich1_ca@yahoo.com
Subject: Forking Farmers

Used to be I was a skinny little shit when I lived in town as a
teenager. Dad owned a small engines repair shop in Lennville, population
all of seven hundred. When I was young, I didn't know what I wanted or who
I was. I wasn't supposed to want to be a farmer. Hell! Where's the future
in that? But farming ends up being just where I belong. Somehow, at 27
years of age, I found myself tending animals, working fields, cutting wood,
getting all sweaty and muscular and loving it. Working on a farm sure did
wonders for my physique. Now I've got a strong body and thick farmer
forearms covered with my own curly brown body hair.

Being a gay farmer isn't all that easy. Country folk tend to be a bit cagey
about that kind of thing. But I'm telling you, if I was sweating over my
work, I sure was sweating just as much after my fellow farmers. Farmers
tend to help each other out so I get to meet and see quite a few and, well,
there are some mighty handsome farmers around these parts. Even the 50 year
old widower down the road. Hell, he showed me a thing or two about the
farming life.

He dropped by one day all duded up in his suit, on his way to some sort of
meeting, or so I thought. He found me in the barn stacking square
bales. He's talking to me while I'm stacking, next thing I know he's right
next to me, stripped down to his boxers, hauling hay bales. That's a farmer
for you, always ready to lend a helping hand, no matter what. He didn't
want to dirty his nice clothes, you see, so he just took them off. He's a
good looking man, with them deep creases at the edges of his eyes and
around his mouth from his skin tanning out in the fields year after year
and from lots of laughing and smiling. Yep, he's always got a ready smile
for you or a joke. He doesn't have any of that loose skin like some older
men get. So I guess the wrinkles and tough skin just make him look more
rugged than anything else. Heck, he doesn't look fifty at all, more like,
well, at least ten years younger.

His body's something else, too! A lifetime of hard work, good food and good
genes sure did him some good. I couldn't help but notice his tree-trunk
legs coming out of his thin cotton shorts, or his tight, furry belly and
thick smooth pecs. And, of course, those farmer arms with the thick, rough
fingers. What really got me going that day when he helped with the bales,
was what was moving around in his shorts as he walked back and forth,
lugging bale after bale from the pile at one end of the hay loft over to
the stack on the other. It looked to be a nice piece of meat swaying around
in there. I had me a hard time stacking hay what with a sudden boner poking
in my pants. I wear jeans and boxers on the farm because I like to feel my
dick and balls moving in my pants when I'm working outside. I've got a
partial erection practically all day long, usually. So this time my cock
was down my pant leg and pushing up as I got harder, with this half-naked
hunk of a man grunting and working his sexy muscles right next to me, his
big dick flopping around under the thin cotton of his boxers.

I guess he kinda noticed, because he smiled and said "Aimin' on forkin' hay
bales with that thing?"

I blushed, but I just couldn't let it go. I swear my mouth is gonna get me
in more trouble than I can handle one of these days. So I up and answered,
"Better be careful, I might fork me a farmer by accident."

I couldn't believe I'd said that. The man goes to church every Sunday,
regular. But he just grinned and kept tossing that hay, muscles of a
thirty-year-old working under his tanned skin. "T'ain't good t'get
distracted when you're workin', son," he smiled.

I kept quiet after that, and we kept working until it started to get dark.

"Weren't you off somewhere in your fancy suit?" I finally asked, bats
flitting in and out of the open barn door as twilight started to settle in.

"Nope," he said, lugging some of the last bales over from the other side of
the barn, giving me an eyeful of his broad back muscles bunching and
writhing from the weight, his thin boxers glued with sweat to his bubble
butt. The cotton was so thin and wet I could see the hair on his ass
through the material. "I was on my way back home from a meeting and decided
to drop by and see if that bailer you borrowed from the Ashley's was
working good 'cause I was thinking of trying it out next cut," he answered,
grunting as he heaved the bail up onto the neatly stacked pile.

Fair enough, I thought. Happens all the time. It explained why he didn't
seem in a hurry to leave.

We got the last of the bales in place, and he still stuck around. Lucky for
him it was late July and the nights were warm because he didn't seem to be
in a hurry to put his clothes back on which, on the one hand I didn't mind
since he's such an eyeful but on the other hand was awkward because I had
to keep myself from staring. I did take the time to stop and explain things
to him a lot about how I did things, and he just smiled and looked right at
me in the eyes, totally attentive. I mean, most of what I was saying must
have been completely familiar to him; I was just finding excuses to look.

The sun had set and the animals had to be looked after. Well, that farmer,
he just stayed and helped me. He kept looking over my animals and saying
how fine they looked. He helped me check the water troughs for the cows and
bring in the goats and feed the chickens and rub down old Steve, my aging
stallion. Then we locked up and all that stuff. He even helped me sweep the
barn when it was all done, still just in his shorts. I thought it was a bit
odd - he always seemed like the proper kind - but I didn't mind because he
looked so good in the buff like that.

"Can't let you go without a thanks," I said to him. "If you don't have to
go take care of your own animals right away, come to the house. How 'bout
some food and beer?" I asked. Well, sure enough he smiled a bit
bashful-like.

"Yep, that sounds good. Tom and Amin can take care of thing," he said. Tom
and Amin were two of his farm hands. His farm's much bigger than mine and
he often has a couple of men working for him. He followed me with his
clothes bunched in one of his big hands, still just in his shorts and
shoes. At the door he brushed off some of the hay that was in the hair on
his head and on his belly, chaff sticking to the sweaty skin of his smooth
chest and shoulders and in the hair on his arms and legs, before coming
in. I held the door open for him as he did this, giving me a comfortable
moment to take in the beauty of his body, ignoring the mosquitoes making a
break for the bright lights in the kitchen.

In the kitchen, he sat at the table facing me as I started pulling out some
stuff to make some grub.

"You got a real nice farm," he said.

I said thanks and started whipping up some eggs for an omelet.

"'mazin', really, doin' all this stuff on your own. That's what family's
for," he said.

I got a bit nervous when he started talking about family. I know I'm not a
family man. I've never had a hankering to be with the ladies. Not since I
was twelve and my brother taught me how to suck cock. I didn't say much
after he said that, just kept mixing, maybe a bit too vigorously. But he
kept talking anyway, which I thought was kinda cruel since, I thought, he
didn't know how much I wanted to have him, his big beefy body sitting right
behind me at my kitchen table, practically naked.

"I was married 27 years when Emmy died," he was saying. "She gave me three
fine sons and two healthy daughters. Come in handy on a farm, kids do. Emmy
an' me, we was the best of friends. And it ain't never got in the way of my
real hankerings."

I kinda stopped whipping the eggs when he said that last bit. He kept
talking, though. I had my back turned to him, and I thought I could feel
his eyes burning into me.

"Yep, us farmers," he was saying, "we see it all. Animals, you know. Simple
creatures, but they sure know what they want. Ever seen bull calves
together? Buttin' heads one minute, then they're tryin' to hump each other
the next."

I turned around to look at him then. I was going to apologize for what I'd
said in the barn about forking him, thinking he was trying to get me to
tell him something about myself. Nothing came out of my mouth when I laid
eyes on him though. There he was, sitting in the kitchen chair, sorta
leaning forward, still just in his shorts, smiling at me. He had one hand
on his thigh, drumming his fingers. And coming out the leg of his shorts,
just under where his fingers were drumming on his thick hairy thigh, was
the sweetest looking snake of an uncut cock I ever laid eyes on.

So, now I'm really out to lunch. I just stood there and started whipping
the eggs again, staring at that cock getting longer and thicker and sorta
lifting up, pulling his short leg up with it. So he stood up without
another word, shucked off his thin damp shorts with one quick motion which
set his hardening cock bouncing and swaying and he walked right up to me.

"I know you been lookin' at me. And I like it. I like you, too." He took
the bowl and the mixing fork out of my hands and put them on the
counter. "You're a good farmer. I seen you out there, working in the fields
with no shirt on sometimes, in the sun." He put his hands on my chest,
rubbing my muscles through my shirt and it sure felt good. I could feel his
cock through my jeans, poking between my legs. I could feel the heat coming
from it through the denim. "You are a fine man. Hard workin', good looking,
honest as the day is long," he rumbled quietly to me.

When his lips touched mine, his moustache brushing against my upper lip, a
shudder ran all the way from the soles of my feet to the top of my head and
back down again. Yep, I'd been hot for the man ever since I bought this
farm. Then again, I've been hot for lots of these farmers since I bought
the farm, and before then, too. His fingers had found my nipples through
the worn fabric of the white button-down shirt I always wear when I'm
haying. His tongue licked my lips open and mine met his, sucking him into
my mouth, the taste of sweat still on his skin. My arms went around him,
feeling the muscles in his broad back, the skin sticky with dried sweat and
hay dust, his thick chest pressing into mine. I could feel his hands on my
belt, my pants coming open, and he dropped to his knees in front of me.

"I been wantin' to get forked by this for ages," he mumbled up at me,
grinning. And then his mouth was on my cock. Jeezus! He pretty much gulped
it all the way down in one greedy go! I almost creamed myself right there
when he did that, his one hand yanking on my bull balls, the fingers of the
other hand reaching up behind me to wriggle between my sweaty ass cheeks to
find my rose bud. He was some cock sucker, all right. I'd never had a blow
job like that. He just kept taking the whole length of me in one go, back
and forth, his tongue licking the underside of my shaft every time he
pulled away. And the stamina! Every time I was about to blow, he'd know,
and just slow down, pull down on my balls until I calmed down, then off
he'd go again. I started wondering if he practiced on his horses! He'd been
going at me for at least a half hour if not 40 minutes, making me almost
crest and then doing something to calm me down to keep me from cumming. It
felt like my dick was shorting out from all the attention he'd already
given it with his mouth. You know that feeling? The one you get when you've
been horny for so long that you don't even know if you can cum at all. Then
he just pulled off my cock with a popping sound, chuckled and grabbed the
damp dishcloth off the counter. He leaned over in front of me, letting me
watch him wipe his ass hole.

"Just makin' sure it's nice and clean for you. I want you to lick my ass
and then shove that horse cock up my chute, boy." I always thought he had a
nice voice, a deep and warm rumble in his broad chest. Hearing it give me
that command just made my cock jump and get impossibly harder.

Anyway, I didn't need to be told twice. I kneeled down and sniffed at his
ass hole like a dog in heat. What a great ass! Firm and well shaped with
sparse salt-and-pepper hair on it. I gave it a smack to check. He grunted,
so I smacked his ass again, harder. Then I went to town on his hole. Just
the smell of him got me so excited. Like I said, I hadn't been too lucky
with the local farmers in getting them in bed up until then. I was too
scared to even try, to tell the truth.  Farmers tend to be a conservative
bunch. Not this man though, to my continued surprise and pleasure. I licked
his ass hole like it was candy, then shoved my tongue into his rose bud. I
nearly shot myself again just at the taste of his soft insides. I couldn't
believe that I was licking this man's ass, and that he wanted me to fuck
him. I smacked his ass a few times again for good measure. He sure seemed
to like that. I got a finger up his hole, then another, pumping them in and
out to get him ready for me. I'm no little guy. I used to be skinny, but my
cock never was. I remember looking at myself in the mirror as a teenager,
wondering how come I was so small everywhere else except for there. Not any
more, though. I'd be about 5'11" and 195lbs of farmer muscle.

I reached for the butter on the table. I didn't want to leave and get the
KY out of my night stand (got me a dildo in there) and I didn't want to
leave for fear that he'd scarper. So I greased him up with butter made from
the cream of my own cows, then I greased up my cock. It was so hot and
hard, I didn't know if I would be able to stick it in without it going off
right away.

"Just squeeze the tip a bit to get it to calm down some," he said, reading
my mind. "I want me a good fuckin' boy." I did like he said, and my cock
trigger eased off so I could stick it up his butt chute. I started in slow,
because I know how much it hurts me when some dude just shoves it in. It
just so happened that my sexy old farmer was more than ready. He just
back-rams into me, taking the whole length and thickness of me in one go. I
stopped, because that really almost made me shoot. He didn't move for a bit
after that, but I could feel him flexing his ass muscles around my cock in
there. I was running my hands over his back and ass, smacking them buns
once in a while. The butter on my hand made for good slapping sounds. I
just love the feel of my palm when it's hot from smacking some sexy guy's
ass.

I reached under my old farmer and grabbed hold of his cock. Shit, he was
hung like a bull! I don't know if it's the farmer genes or what. Oh yeah,
he was a big guy, too, about 6'4 and 220 lbs. Hell, when I'm saying he had
a thick chest and big legs, I'm not kidding! I felt like I was fucking John
Bunyan. So there I was, pumping his ass, and he kept making these
noises. He was turning out to be a perfect fuck. I can't stand guys that
make no sounds. I can't even tell if they've cum without seeing the jizz
shoot out of them. Not this guy. He was grunting and moaning, shoving his
ass back onto my dick as I worked it into him from every which angle I
could stretch his hole. He was slamming his fist on the kitchen table,
fucking yelling out like a bull. I pulled out of him, spun him around and
lifted all 220 hot pounds of him onto the kitchen table, spreading his legs
out and pushing myself back in before you could say 'howdy-do'. His legs
went over my shoulders and I was pumping into him , balls slapping against
his ass. He pulled himself up and wrapped his arms around my neck to plant
a wet kiss on my lips, shoving in his tongue, then he fell back onto the
table (which groaned under his weight, let me tell you. In fact, it hasn't
been the same since), but not without grabbing my shirt and ripping it
right off my back with one quick yank. I kept plowing into him, the burning
sensation from where the material of my shirt rubbed against my skin as it
ripped adding to the good feelings in my body. He slapped his hands on my
naked chest, grabbing at the thick dark hair I've got there, found my
nipples buried in my thatch and yanked on them, twisting my brown nubs like
they were the dials of a radio, then he'd slap his hand on my chest
again. He nearly knocked me right out of him a couple of times, but his big
legs held me firmly in place.

As I fucked him, I ran my hands up and down his muscular, hairy legs. I
love how his body hair's thick up to the top of his belly, then just stops
in a little trail that reaches up between his abs and just makes it to the
bottom of his chest. Not like me. I've got barely any hair on my legs and
ass compared to my hole torso, from pubes to collar-bone, which is covered
in thick dark hair. Anyway, after having a whale of a time fucking him for
a while with his legs in the air, I pushed his legs aside and leaned over
him, still pistoning my cock into him, table creaking dangerously under
us. I needed to taste his tongue again. We kissed like that, him grunting
and moaning into my mouth as our tongues writhed around each other. He bit
my shoulder, and the pain was so blissful that it shot down to my balls and
that's when I lost it.

"Shoot it on me," he was panting. "Shoot it on my chest."

So I pulled out and let fly onto his chest, hitting him under the
chin. Eight good volleys until the rest dribbled out. I fell on top of him,
smelling the mix of cum, crotch, sweat and hay on him. He hugged me close,
stroking my back.

"Funny, ain't it, how we get all tired like this after cummin'. See, I
ain't cum yet, so I'm still full of energy." He was stroking the side of my
chest, and reached between us to tenderly fondle my nipple.

Yep, I could feel him under me, his cock huge and hard and steaming hot. It
never went soft the whole time we fucked. He rolled out from under me, then
lifted me off the table into his arms, carrying me like a baby. He
obviously already knew where the bedroom was, because he beelined for it.

After putting me on the bed, he disappeared into the bathroom and I could
hear the water running. I stretched on the bed, feeling on top of the
world. Farming and fucking a hot farmer. What else could I possibly want?
When he came out of the bathroom, all naked and his dick stiff, I knew what
else I wanted. Which worked out just fine because it was obviously what he
wanted, too. He'd gone into the bathroom not to wash up, because he was
still covered in chaff and hay and cum that was starting to dry on his
chest. He'd brought back a warm face cloth to clean my limp cock. And then
he was working on me with his mouth again. It didn't take long for my cock
to wake up, the way he was sucking it and licking my balls. Then the warm
face cloth went down to my ass, cleaning away all the dirt and bits of hay
that had gotten in there during the day. Then it was replaced by his warm
tongue. I reached down and touched him on the head.

"Come up," I said when he looked at me. So, tongue still licking my ass
hole, he moved his body up onto the bed until I had that long, thick cock
staring me right in the face. The moan that came out of me when I tasted
that purple head was about at least six months of hard work in the field
with no sex. I nibbled that soft foreskin, kissed the purple, glistening
head poking out, tasting that oiliness that covers it. I licked and sucked
and try as I might, I just couldn't get all that fat, long cock into my
mouth. I wasn't as talented as he was, but at least I had stamina to match
his. I was awake again and hot for him. I was licking, sucking, nibbling
every part of his crotch I could reach, even the little bit between the
cock shaft and the leg, where the smell is the strongest. I think he was
liking it from the noises he was making, although it might have been from
eating my ass.

He kept changing what he was doing. One minute he was licking my pucker
with the flat of his tongue, the next he was just tickling it with the
tip. Next, his whole face was in there, licking and shoving his tongue up
my hole. Then he'd be just pumping his tongue in and out. It was driving me
wild. The more he licked my ass, the more energetically I sucked his big
cock, and the harder I sucked, the more savage was his ass eating.

We were both growling and moaning. If I was still living in town, the
neighbors would have called the cops because of the noise. I reached over
and pulled the bedside table drawer right out, bringing it onto the bed,
blindly feeling for the KY. I found it, pushed the drawer off the mattress
with a crash, and handed the tube to him. He grinned, all those lines of
experience on his face radiating like the rays of a sun. So he shoved some
KY up my ass, fingering my hole really slow with his thick, rough finger.

"Gotta work it good. Got me a big piece to put in there," he mumbled, his
mouth a bit slack as he stared at what he was doing to my rose bud. I bit
my lip and he saw me doing that. I looked him right in the eyes then. He
smiled even more, staring right back. This man was too perfect. No
awkwardness. He knew what he wanted and didn't hide it. I felt another big
finger go into me. He squirted some more KY. We were both quiet now. I was
aware of my breathing and the feeling of his callused fingers loosening my
tender hole to make room for his huge cock. My ass hole felt good and
stretched. Then in came another finger. Like I said, he's a big man, and
his hands and fingers are proportionate. Actually, his fingers are sorta
short and fat. So I had three fingers in me. I sucked on my lower lip,
holding my feet, totally open to him and whatever he wanted to do to me. I
knew fisting was out for the moment.

First, I'd never been fisted. Second, I could tell this was one of those
wild fucks where all he wanted was his dick in me, and he was barely
keeping himself in check already. He bit and tongued my calf muscle as he
worked his fingers in my hole. With his other hand, he squeezed more KY on
that monster cock of his. I'd never taken one that big before, but the
dildo that had fallen out of my bedside table drawer and was probably lying
on the floor somewhere, well, it's big as that. So I was really hot to get
me a live cock that size up my ass. It didn't take long that I felt the
blunt head of his cock pushing against my hole.

He stared right in my eyes, his face still a little slack as he
concentrated on getting his cock in me. I'm not as experienced as he is, so
my ass needed a little coaxing to take all of him. He sorta moved in and
out of me, pushing in a little more every time. I was already grabbing at
the bed clothes, feeling that rush of heat from my ass hole shooting up
into all the rest of my body as he pierced my relaxed sphincter. In and out
a little at a time, I could feel the length of him reaching deeper and
deeper into me. When he was all the way in, he fell on top of me, covering
my mouth with his.

"Yeah, oh, son," he kept groaning between deep kisses. "Shit, you feel so
good. So damn hot."

I had my feet in my hands, pulling my legs as far apart as possible so that
every inch of his monster cock was lodged right inside me with every shove
of his hips. Fuck, I'm getting horny just thinking about it. 'Cause then he
got up on his knees, grabbed my cock at the base and leaned over, taking
half of it in his mouth as he started fucking me. His other big hand was
under my ass, lifting it up in the air. I'd never had that happen to me,
getting sucked by the guy who's fucking me. I started yelling "I'm comin',
I'm comin!" he just groaned, sucking and fucking harder, and I shot into
his mouth, him sucking all the juice out of me as I pumped it down his
gullet, making appreciative sounds as he swallowed my cream, making me
squirm as he kept sucking my sensitive cock head.

And he kept on fucking. I was a rag, still hot for his cock up my ass but
drained by the second totally explosive unloading of my balls that
night. He pushed me onto my side and went to town on my ass, his balls
slapping against me, his hands pinching my nipples, combing my chest hairs,
fondling my cock, feeling my ass. I could smell him, his sweat and the cum
I'd shot on his chest. He was fucking me so hard now I could feel my own
cock start to swell again with that pleasurable achiness when you've used
it too much in a short period of time. It was like I could feel his cock
inside mine every time he hit my prostate. He was totally concentrated on
his fucking now. He pushed me onto my stomach and was leaning his hands on
my shoulders. My ass was rising to meet his hard thrusting. He was making
little grunting noises every time he slammed into me and I was squeezing,
squeezing my ass to make his cock feel good. The most amazing feeling is
the rush when you feel the other guy's cock swell up even bigger inside you
just before he comes.

"Fill 'er up, man," I was yelling. "Cream my insides, c'mon."

He was making such a racket as he was getting closer to coming, breathing
hard and yelling and cussing and thrusting so fast his balls were barely
off my ass before he slammed into me again. And then, with a groan and a
yell that seemed to come all the way from his very balls, he thrust one
last hard time and stayed there, the heat of his hot cum rushing into my
hole. He started fucking me slower as he kept squirting, sorta twitching
when he was pushing in at the sensitivity of his cockhead after he'd
come. I started jacking my aching cock. I couldn't keep my hands off
it. And bam! For the third time, I shot. Not much, mind you, but intense,
with his cock moving slow in me, his panting and hot breath on me as he
milked the last of his orgasm from his dick in my ass, my ass spasming
around his cock as my third orgasm rose and receded.

He was right. Family's a good thing to have on a farm. Since then we joined
our farming businesses and work together. That was four years ago. We keep
the two houses because his kids don't know, but he sleeps over lots. I've
never done the marathon cuming I did on that first night, though. The set
up isn't perfect because I love the crotchety old bugger and want to have
an open life with him, but, well, it's not such a big deal, I guess. And,
well, he knows of other farmers, and they come over sometimes and sometimes
there's a whole bunch of us in my bedroom or in my barn, forking each
other. I tell you, there's nothing like being a farmer.

**** (Author's note: Hope you enjoyed this. I'd like to get your comments
and constructive criticism about this piece. I'm relatively new at showing
my work and at writing erotic fiction, so feedback is always welcome.
Please e-mail me at ulrich1_ca@yahoo.com )