Date: Sat, 8 Sep 2018 15:38:02 -0400
From: B. Roman de Fauvel <bromandefauvel@gmail.com>
Subject: Fort Seed 2: The Farmhand

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***

FORT SEED // 2

The Farmhand

By B. Roman de Fauvel

Rich arrived early in the spring. The ground was thawing and there was a
lot to do around the farm to get ready for the planting season. A stranger
to the area, he had no recommendations to speak of, but Pops hired him
anyway because he was big and eager to work.

Pops' son Johnny watched from the front porch as they pulled up in the old
truck. A rusting Chevy, it could barely keep up on the highway, but Johnny
loved to take it out on the back roads at night, naked, the stars above so
still as he raced through the fields, the dust in his wake, the wind across
the new hair he'd sprouted on his chest, feeling alive with his burgeoning
manhood.

He greeted them in the driveway wearing his morning sweats, eager to meet
the man who'd spend the next few months working side-by-side with him and
his Pops. When Rich stepped down from the passenger seat, gravel crunching
under his work boots, something strange happened. All Johnny could see was
the bulge in Rich's trousers. Nothing else registered. Not his toothy
smile, not the thick tuft of brown chest hair escaping from his sweaty
undershirt. And not his hand, reaching out for Johnny's.

Johnny was so focused on the mound between Rich's legs that he missed the
handshake and cupped Rich's balls instead.

In that split second, Johnny felt something. A desperate need. Something
about the shape between Rich's legs, the density and weight of the thing
trapped beneath tight-fitting denim. It jolted Johnny's own equipment,
swinging loose and free inside his sweats. He felt his cock muscle twitch,
the bounce of his increasing length. He'd felt this before, but never when
he thought he was supposed to. Pops once left a stack of Playboys on the
coffee table, a wordless hint that he should make some use of them. Johnny
never really did. But this, here, Rich's thick manhood? This made him
erect.

Then the split second was over. Johnny tried to laugh it off with Rich and
Pops. He was blushing, and they were in stitches, but it was all in good
fun. Rich offered his hand once again, and Johnny grasped it, firmly,
wanting to impress him.

"It's okay bud," Rich said, nodding at Johnny's tented sweats. "Ain't the
first time I've had that effect on someone."

He clapped Johnny on the shoulder and guided him to the back of the truck,
his duffel lumped in the bed.

"Help me unload?" Rich said.

//

That first month was unbearable. Rich kept mostly to himself when he wasn't
working. Pops had built a small addition to the barn where each year's
farmhand lived, season after season. Most just drank and played cards with
Pops late into the night, stumbling to bed with barely enough time for
sleep before morning. But Rich was different. Spent most of his time out
back doing god-knows-what, while Johnny jerked off furiously, picturing
Rich's thick, hairy chest, imagining what his manly cock must look like
when it was finally unleashed.

The weather turned warm, and the torture worsened. Rich sweat
constantly. He started taking his shirt off even for the most menial of
chores, and Johnny couldn't help but gawk at the brown hair like a pillow
atop Rich's muscular pecs. The treasure trail teasing its way into denim,
thickening and broadening as it reached his packed-in cock. He smelled
sweet, sour, and musky all at once. Johnny sometimes had to excuse himself
to beat off behind a tree, slinging his nut into the dirt.

But Johnny wasn't as sly as he thought he was. Rich noticed the way Pops'
son couldn't quite look him in the eye, the way Johnny seemed to bow in his
presence and stare at his bulge, the big, fertile cock Rich had the honor
of carrying wherever he went.

One night, at the end of a long, hot day of work, Johnny snuck out back
behind the barn, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rich using his outdoor
shower. It was nothing elaborate, just a cement slab and a faucet attached
to the back wall. Johnny hid behind a nearby bush for the perfect view of
this big man rinsing off the day's labor.


And there it was, what Johnny had spent all spring imagining. That hairy
body radiating so much raw, masculine energy. Johnny could feel it from
fifteen feet away, drawing him closer, demanding his attention and
respect. The hard-earned muscle. The meat-and-potatoes belly covered in
fur. The confidence with which he addressed each part of his body, the
obvious pride he took in its components. The overall effect was of
machinery, as if he was built solely for work: lifting, thrusting, pumping.

Finally, bared, hung Rich's cock. Johnny nearly fainted with gratitude and
relief. It was heavy, swollen, bigger than his own, bigger than Pops. Dense
pubic hair, matted flat from the shower. The flaccid shaft swung like a
pendulum past two enormous testicles, the source of his testosterone, his
muscle, his scent.

Rich soaped up his bulk. Broad chest down to corded thighs, flopping his
dick up and down and side to side, as if he were unaware of it. Or, more
likely, as if he were used to carrying that much manhood. The meat got
fatter, casually, plumping up with pride, enjoying the fresh air after
spending the day cramped inside denim.

"Come over here, Johnny," Rich said. He didn't stop soaping up, didn't even
look in Johnny's direction.

Startled at first, Johnny stayed where he was hiding, deciding it must've
been his imagination.

"I can see you," Rich said, "lurking in the bushes."

Rich looked straight at him this time, bar of soap in his wet hand, water
drawing patterns in the hair on his chest, cock getting fatter, more
ready-for-use by the second.

"Come over here, Johnny," he repeated. "I'm not going to say it again."

Johnny emerged a little reluctantly from the bushes, his erection perfectly
evident in his work pants.

Rich dropped the soap to the pavement and started rinsing off.

"Now," he said. "Isn't that a better view?"

Johnny was surprised. "You don't mind me looking at you?"

"Of course not," he said. "I'm used to it."

Rich followed Johnny's eyes down to his cock. Thick, cut, and covered in
veins. Hairy. It swayed heavily as he turned beneath the faucet. The size
of his balls, their evident weight. He cupped his sac, presenting his nuts
to Johnny for appreciation.

"These are my balls," he said proudly. "This is where I make my cum."

Johnny's erection was straining to be released.

"You must make a lot of it," Johnny replied.

He smiled, petting his heavy tanks, lifting them, then feeling the weight
of their burden as they fell.

"You're right about that," he answered. "They sure keep me busy. Gotta
empty these fuckers two, three times a day, minimum, otherwise your Pops
would be complaining about the crusty bed sheets."

Johnny started to relax. Lately he'd had a similar problem: where to put
all his jizz. He started doing his own laundry to save himself the
embarrassment, forgetting that his overworked Pops must leave a mess of
babybatter on his own sheets every night.

"So where do you shoot your loads?" Johnny asked.

"Found a perfect place," he said, caressing his swelling manhood. "In the
barn. I climb up into the hay loft and let `er rip over the edge." He
wagged his cock back and forth. "Fuck, you should hear the splatter I make
with my sperm. Gets so quiet in there at night you can hear every drop of
my seed hit the ground."

Johnny groped himself. He couldn't help it, thinking about all the cum Rich
must make in those big hairy bull balls.

Rich turned the water off. Suddenly, it was quiet. All you could hear were
crickets, and Rich's voice.

"But that's gotten boring," he said, and with a flex of his cock muscle, a
long strand of precum dropped to the cement slab. "My cock needs more
attention than that." He flexed again, and more precum belched from the
wide slit at the tip of Rich's rock-hard cock.

"Ever wonder how I got so big?" he asked, stepping toward Johnny.

Nothing in the world could make him move from that spot. He was prepared to
do anything Rich wanted, anything for the honor of worshiping his superior
manhood.

"It took a lot of work," Rich continued, not a foot away, looking down at
Johnny. "Took a lot of lifting, a lot of sweat. But a lot of this is
natural, too. Comes straight outta here." He grabbed Johnny's right hand,
and together they cupped Rich's impressive stud sac. "Feel those fuckers?
Feel how full and heavy they get? And that's just an afternoon's worth of
sperm and testosterone production. Had to nut this morning."

They gazed into each other's eyes while working over Rich's balls,
massaging them, rolling them around, squeezing them.

"The thing about having big balls," he said, "is that I make more cum than
most men. And it's gotta get out."

He closed his eyes, thrust his hips forward, and planted his hands on his
hips, big and macho and giving Johnny complete access to his cock. As if by
instinct, Johnny sank to his knees to inspect Rich's manhood up close,
starting at the fully engorged head, big bead of precum bubbling from his
slit, and following his shaft downward, inch after veiny inch, into the
drying bush at the root.

"I bet you'd like to get bigger," Rich said. "Do you?"

"I do," Johnny said automatically.

"I thought so." He flexed his cock muscle. Johnny watched it bounce. He
flexed it again. Precum fell to the ground. "I can help you with that. I've
got testosterone to spare. You want some?"

Johnny simply nodded. He'd lost the ability to speak. All he could think
about was the power contained in the thick ropes of manly seed churning in
this stud's massive bull sac.

"Good," he said. "I'll make you grow big and strong. Stick out your
tongue."

He guided the head of his cock to the entrance of Johnny's mouth and
flexed. This time, the spurt of precum landed where it was supposed to: on
Johnny's tongue. He tasted salty, sweet. Before Johnny could swallow Rich
flexed again. His leak was potent, syrupy. Johnny moaned with gratitude.

"That's a good boy," Rich said, petting the back of Johnny's head. "Take
care of my big, strong cock and I'll reward you with a thick dose of seed,
okay?"

Johnny closed his lips around the shaft. Rich let out a long, loud sigh of
relief. He was really going to enjoy this.

"Open wide," he said, and Johnny did as he was told, showing Rich a mouth
full of cock and a sticky web of precum.

"How do I taste?" he asked.

Johnny swallowed to speak. "Like raw meat," he said. "Like a man."

Rich chuckled. Another flow of precum landed on Jonny's lower lip. He dove
back down, afraid to miss a single drop, eager to take every fluid ounce of
testosterone this farmhand could give him. He began to suck in earnest. It
was his first cock, but he took to it naturally, nursing the head, trying
to coax sperm from those fat nuts with his hands. He started to sweat. The
smell of soap disappeared, and every time he bobbed down toward Rich's bush
he smelled musk and salt.

"You need this, don't you?" Rich asked casually, fists back at his hips,
cock proud and hard. "I could tell the moment we met that I was going to
feed you. It was only a matter of time."

Johnny picked up the pace. His hands grazed Rich's bull balls, dense with
an afternoon's worth of seed production. They started to pull up, charged
to unload into Johnny's mouth with his skilled worship. The precum flow was
constant. Johnny swallowed over and over, once every few strokes, to keep
his mouth empty and ready for what was sure to be a flood of seed, Rich's
cock expressing its supreme manliness.

"Listen, Johnny," he said from above, "I'm about to feed you. There's going
to be a lot of cum, so I hope you're prepared." He started to thrust into
Johnny's mouth, doing that thing breeders do when they're inside an
expectant hole. "You'll start feeling the effects tonight. You might even
wake up a few pounds heavier. My jizz works quick." He was getting
breathless. The urgency to nut took over every part of his body. "But if
you really want to grow," he continued, "you'll need to service me every
day. You'll need a steady source of seed and testosterone, okay?"

Johnny nodded as best he could without letting the cock escape his
mouth. He wanted this, needed this. He never thought something could come
so naturally to him.

"All right. Here it comes," Rich announced. "Here's your first batch of
heavy fertility. Get ready."

He stopped moving, making Johnny finish him off. His cock stood angrily
erect, and it was Jonny's job to get the cum he so desired.

"Fuck," he said, almost offhand. "Fuck boy. Here comes my nut."

The first thick rope landed on Johnny's tongue with a weight he hadn't
expected. Rich was right: his loads really were potent. But before Johnny
could appreciate what he'd been given, Rich shot another rope, then
another, straight to the back of Johnny's throat. He nearly gagged, but
instead he kept going, gripping the base of Rich's cock and trying to work
out all the cum this burly man had made. His mouth filled, and he
swallowed, taking Rich's seed and testosterone into his belly before more
cum belched from the fat slit, filling his mouth once again.

"Keep pulling," Rich coached. "I've still got more cum I gotta get out."

So Johnny kept going, bobbing up and down on Rich's cock while he stood
there behind the barn, legs spread wide, offering his masculinity for the
consumption of his boss's son. Johnny swallowed once again, and again Rich
fired off more seed. Gulping, Johnny realized that this was the summer,
thanks to Rich's copious gift of testosterone-filled sperm, that he would
truly become a man.

Rich's ejaculation subsided. Johnny felt the big cock soften in his mouth.
He let it fall out and hang in the air. The cock muscle pumped
involuntarily, trying to expel the last bit of seed from his balls, so
Johnny took the plumped length back into his mouth, unwilling to miss a
single drop.

Rich sighed.

"Thanks bud," he said, reaching down to squeeze his balls. "You did a great
job relieving the pressure. These fuckers were getting too full."

"You're welcome," Johnny said, but Rich's cock was still in his mouth, so
all he heard was a mumble.

Rich laughed.

"Next time," he said, "this cum is going up your ass."



TO BE CONTINUED

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