Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Farmer's Boy: by (c) Hamilton Joyce.

   The boy had done some hedging and ditching before taking the shotgun for
some rough shooting, and his arms were scratched from the briars, red
blotches among the golden hairs.  He cradled the gun lovingly as he wiped
the surplus oil away.  Mentally the older man stripped him to the waist, as
he had often seen him in the summer past, lean and tanned, with just the
beginnings of muscle in his shoulders and upper arms.  He imagined that
golden triangle of pubic hair above an erect, little-boy cock, and found a
shiver passed up his spine.  He wondered if the boy was circumcised or
whether the village midwife had left him intact.  Lord!  How he wanted this
teenage angel, with his tousled mop of blonde hair.

   "You like that gun, Simon?"

   "It's a smashing gun, Mr Ballinger."

   "You're strong enough now to use it, Simon."

   "Four cartridges, Mr Ballinger.  Two pheasants and two rabbits.  Yes, I
can use it."

   There was a pride in his voice, and his hands as he caressed the
chasework above its stock showed he appreciated things that were well-made.

   "It used to hang there above the fire for many years, but of course
that's not allowed now.  See the two hooks are still there in the stone. 
Best lock it up in its case again now, boy."

   He put the gun-case in its cupboard, turned the key and gave it to the
farmer to pocket.

   They were sitting each in a deep red armchair, the leather scratched and
worn by generations of farmers' denims, and worsteds before that.  The only
light in the room came from the large open fire where oak logs two foot
long spluttered and occasionally flared, sending sparks up the stone-built
chimney.  The ceiling beams stretched back into gloom in the corners of the
room, but the man and boy were in a pool of warmth and light.  It was warm,
despite the dank evening mist outside this February afternoon, and the
farmer opened two more buttons on his shirt, exposing his hairy, barrel
chest to his thick leather belt.

   The boy looked at him and thought he looked very fine, stripped to the
waist and with black hair all over his barrel chest: he reminded him of a
film actor he had seen in a Biblical Epic, the one who played a Roman
Centurian.

   "Would you like some cider, Simon?" He got up and filled his pint mug
again from a pitcher on the large oak table, that had once seated twelve
farm-hands for their supper.

   "No thank you, Mr Ballinger."

   "What do they say about me in the village?"

   "My gran calls you a 'confirmed bachelor'."

   His laugh was a deep chuckle, and his face creased in a pleasant smile.
"What do you reckon they mean by that, Simon?"

   The boy hesitated.  "I think it's her way of saying a man is gay, Mr
Ballinger."

   Again the throaty laugh.  "I expect they are not far wrong either. 
Observant people our villagers.  And gossips too!"

   They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the flames and sparks of
the fire.  The boy digested the news that his employer was gay.  He was not
shocked, a boy of the new generation that accepted sexual differences, and
was to be honest a bit interested.  He found himself imagining the man
stripped, a great black bear he would be, sturdy with strong legs, a
muscled butt and flat belly.  and, doubtless, a very big cock.  He wondered
if the guy was cut or not.

   The farmer seemed to have come to some sort of decision.  "I was your
age when old Mr Holleyman gave me that gun.  I'm minded to give it to you
boy."

   "That would be great, and I'd treasure it and look after it real well."

   "He was gay,too, old Mr Holleyman......"

   There was another silence,and a log fell forward.  The boy stood and
pushed it back in place with the wrought-iron poker.  One day he would have
strong, country-man legs the older man thought.  Now he was just sexy!

   "What do you want me to do, Mr Ballinger?" The boy had realised there
was a price to pay for the beautiful double-barrelled shotgun.

   "Come stand by me, Simon.  In front of me here."

   Simon stood in front of the deep armchair looking down at the hairy,
barrel chest of his employer surprised that such a big strong man could be
gay: he had always imagined homosexuals as camp and effeminate: he was to
learn his error!  He was almost petrified as he felt hands fumbling at his
belt, and then his zip slid down so that his denims fell to his feet.  Now
the man was nuzzling his crotch.  And now he was slowly pulling the
underpants down to join his jeans at his ankles.  Two hands reached around
him to cup his buttocks, pulling him forward until he could feel the
bristles of the man's face on his crotch and thighs.  Then there was the
moment he would never forget all his life, when he felt the warmth and
wetness of a mouth around his cock.  He knew his cock was swelling between
Mr Ballinger's lips, becoming hard.
For Mr Ballinger this had been an incredible risk.  For years, since his
lifetime lover Silas Holleyman had passed away he had had not sexual
contact at all.  He had watched the village lads pass from childhood
through adolescence, each one more attractive than the last, but had never
dared make an approach.  He knew from the papers that as many as one in ten
would be gay, and as many as one in two would at some time experience gay
sex, but how to find them in this isolated and conservative rural
community? Once he had surprised three boys swimming naked in the river
where it crossed his land, and had been able to watch young bodies, and
little-boy cocks, undisturbed for an hour of paradise.  On another occasion
he had come across a boy wanking leaned up against one of his haystacks,
but the boy had just pulled his shorts up and run away, giving only the
briefest view of a hard little cock to liven up the farmer's nightly

masturbation.

   As the boy stood in front of him he sensed the tension in the lad: well
he would soon relieve that!  He fumbled with the buckle on the boy's belt,
which was one of those interlocking snake-design ones so many of the
village lads liked.  Then the button at the waistband, and then the moment
that had figured in so many of his night-time fantasies as he slowly
lowered the zip.  The boy was wearing tight white underpants, of the type
advertised as y-front, and there was the hint of a bulge, nothing more.  He
leaned forward and nuzzled the shape of a small cock with his lips and
nose. The boy had been working hard and there was an intoxicating
boy-scent. Slowly he pulled the pants down over smooth, tanned thighs as
far as the knees, when they too fell to his ankles.  The cock was soft but
none-the-less very pretty: the village mid-wife had circumcised him as she
had the few other boys he had seen naked over the years.  Her predecessor
had cut Mr Ballinger too, forty years before.  So here was a pretty little
pink helmet at the end of the tiny white shaft: and the balls looked tiny
as well in their tight sack.

   He had longed to caress, to hold, to kiss, but had never dared.  But
now, here was a naked and willing boy, and the most beautiful of them all.
He feasted his eyes on the flat, white belly and the hairless little cock
arcing gracefully down over equally hairless balls.  The boy's skin was
smooth and flawless, and there was a tiny triangle of golden curls just at
the bottom of his belly.  So very pretty, and oh so sexy.He put his arms
around the standing boy, to feel his bottom and pull him forward onto his
waiting mouth.

   He felt Simon's cock harden as he sucked at it, letting his tongue
flutter against the sensitive front vein.  And his own cock was straining
to be released as well: later!

   The boy was as if in a dream, pleasure mixed with a certain amount of
guilt.  This was good, but he should not be doing it!  He found he was
making thrusting movements with his hips so his cock, hard now, was sliding
in and out of the man's mouth.  He held the man's head between his hands
partly to keep his own balance, and partly because he wanted to feel his
presence more intensely.  There was no doubt now.  He was fucking that warm
and wet mouth.  The man had only one hand on his bottom, stroking and
kneading it, the other cradling his balls and pulling gently at the sack.
For a moment the mouth left the cock and a pointed tongue was licking over
his balls, and eager lips accepting one into his mouth.  But the boy pulled
at the man's head directing him back to the cock.

   Mr Ballinger scarcely had to move his head as the boy made fucking
movements.  These became more and more insistant and he knew the boy would
cum soon.  He felt the boy's balls, in their tight sack, and treated
himself to a kiss and a lick there, taking one little egg into his mouth.
But the boy's whispered "No!" and his pulling at the man's hair showed he
wanted more sucking.  And now the thrusts were harder and faster, no
problem with such a small cock, and then his mouth was filled with silky,
salty cum.  There was only one spurt and those sexy thrusts declined until
the boy was motionless.  Mr Ballinger swallowed the cum and kept the cock
in his mouth, not sucking or licking it in case it had become sensitive, as
his used to when Silas Holleyman had sucked him off before the main course
of buggering him.

   Finally Simon pulled his cock out.

   'I want you naked now, boy.'

   He was already kicking off socks and unbuckling his wide brown leather
belt, His denims and shirt lay on the floor and then his underpants.  As
Simon undid his shirt buttons he looked down at the man, and especially at
that big, veiny cock growing like some great tree from thickets of black
hair.  The farmer had the muscular body of a man used to hard physical
work. Simon was naked now.

   'Come sit here with me.'

   Sitting on the man's lap, an arm round his shoulder, the boy was very
aware of that cock pressing against his bottom-cheeks.  And his own cock
was still hard.  He thought it would be nice to be sucked off again.  When
he had come in Mr Ballinger's mouth it had been better by far than any of
his solitary orgasms, so much more powerful.  He had not been surprised
when Mr Ballinger had swallowed all his come, as ever since the first drops
appeared three years before, and always nowadays, Simon would lay on his
back to masturbate, and finally transfer the pools of cum from his chest
and belly to his fingers and then into his mouth.  He liked the taste and
feel of his own cum and wondered if Mr Ballinger would want him to suck
that monstrous great weapon and whether the cum would taste the same or
whether it was different in a grown-up.  He thought there would be loads of
cum in such big balls: he hoped so!  It would be nice to be sucked off
again now as he often found he wanted to come twice in a row when he
masturbated every night and most mornings, often using a scrap-book with
cut-outs of women in corsets and lingerie from his Gran's discarded Women's
Magazines.  Yes, and a few photographs of athletic young men, swimmers with
their scanty speedos, or muscular bozers at weigh-in.  He had wondered a
bit at finding those pics of men sexy: he knew he was not gay because
mostly he wanted to see women, and was interested in one of the village
girls.  But still he sometimes liked to imagine sex with one of those guys.
All very odd!

   Mr Ballinger's hands were wandering all over the boy's body, stroking
chest, belly thighs, fondling cock and balls.  And without thinking, the
boy was stroking the man's body hair, and thinking it would be nice to have
that huge flaring knob in his mouth.

   But Mr Ballinger was not interested in being sucked off, or at least not
yet.  'I want to fuck you, boy....'

   There was a moment of great silence as the boy digested this.  At the
back of his mind he had half expected it, as the boys in the schoolyard
often talked about "bumming" joking about something they scarcely
understood.  But Simon knew that was what gay men did.  His heart was
beating with excitement, but there was a real mixture of emotions, sexual
excitement yes, but some guilt at that anticipation, and also an
over-laying fear.

   'That would hurt....'

   ''A bit at first, but that soon passes.  And after I've fucked you a few
times you will love it, and be looking all the time for men to fuck you in
the arse.  Believe me, I know...'

   'Mr Holleyman?'

   'In this very chair, in front of this very fire.' He kissed the boy,
Simon's first lover's kiss.  He could feel the boy's whole body stiffen as
their lips met, but then relax as he slipped his tongue into the boy's
mouth and the kiss became wet, sexy, prolonged.  It also gave Simon time to
think.  It must be ok or gays would not want to do it.  And in any case he
wanted that gun!

   'Best you kneel for me first time.' There would be no more discussion,
just the decision of a forceful man!  'Bury your head in the cushions.'

   The cushions smelled musty for a moment, but were soft, and Simon could
feel the heat of the fire on his naked buttocks.

   Mr Ballinger looked down at the naked boy.  His back was tanned, smooth
and flawless, and his bottom still slightly rounded, not yet the angularity
that comes with adult-hood.  Smooth and white buttocks under his palms as
he caressed them, a drop of precum slipping down the shaft of his upright
cock.  He reached forward to feel shoulder muscles just beginning to form,
and then ran his hands down the boy's back, home to the buttocks again
where his own cock was now resting lightly.  A palm on each cheek he pulled
them apart to reveal the secret puckered rose.  He stared a moment, it was
so pretty, then knelt and kissed it.  Licking now, round and round, he made
a point with his tongue and stuck it in.

   Simon had made his decision; the gun was worth it!  He tried to empty
his mind of fear by thinking of the pheasants down the edge of Fifty Acre
Wood, and the best places to hide to get a clean shot at them.  The gun and
Mr Ballinger's cock became associated in his mind, so that ever afterward
when he saw a gun it would remind him of an erect cock, and when he saw an
erect cock it would remind him of his gun!  He shuddered as a finger nail
was run lightly down his back, from neck to buttocks, but it was with
pleasure not pain.  Then he felt strong hands part his buttocks, and a
bristly chin against the tender skin there.  He was licking!  The boy
giggled as he felt a tongue penetrate his anus, where nothing had been
before, not even in his night-time wanking.  It tickled, but felt good. 
There was a pause, and then he felt fingers slippery in the crease of his
bottom.  A moment,and then a finger where the tongue had been.  This was
good too.  Perhaps being fucked would not be so bad after all?  Perhaps
even good?

   The boy had giggled when penetrated with his tongue: a good sign. 
Butter!  That's what he needed.  He went to the table where a pat of butter
always stood in an earthenware crock.  It was soft from the heat in the
room and he took a dollop on his fingers to grease his cock.  Another, and
then back to the kneeling boy.  His index finger slipped in with no
protests.  So far so good!  He found the boy's prostate easily and made
sure as he masturbated, finger slipping in and out of the admittedly tight
anus, that he pressed there each time.  Then two fingers.  still no
protests, and the boy was even wriggling his hips a bit.  Time now!  He
paced his knob against that pretty rose and leaned on it a bit.  A bit more
and the knob popped in suddenly.  Yells of protest from the boy, but the
man's weight, hands firmly holding his shoulders down, stopped him from
slipping away.  He pushed harder and the shaft slid up till their bodies
touched and he was fully inserted.  A contraction of the boy's anus gripped
almost painfully.  The boy was still protesting, but the farmer remembered
how old Holleyman had not given up, had continued through the protests. 
Thank goodness!  The gripping relaxed, and he pulled the cock back as far
as the knob, only to thrust in again.  He was fucking now, slow and
deliberate.

   Simon had been lulled into a false sense of security.  The finger
slipping in and out of his arse was not too bad, in fact to be honest it
was very good.  He would have liked to have jerked at his hard cock while
he was being fingered but that would be awkward as he knelt with his head
in the seat of the chair.  Then he felt a change, and was sure it was two
fingers now; perhaps being fucked would be ok.  The weight he felt pushing
at his anus would be that huge cock, and that felt good too!  Then sudden
dreadful pain, and that was not good.  He yelled out.  'No!  Take it out.
Please.  It hurts!' But inexorably the cock was shoved slowly further and
further up him.  He tried to wriggle from under, but the man held him down
firm.  The man was determined to fuck him....

   Gradually the pain dulled to an ache, and finally it did not hurt,
though it was just boring kneeling there as the man ploughed away at his
field.  Not as good as being finger-fucked, anyway.  He could feel the
thrusts getting shorter and faster and knew it would not be long now.  Then
he heard the whispered oaths and heavy breathing that told him a load of
cum was being spurted deep inside him.  That was an exciting thought...and
he was still hard, to his amazement.

   Six years since he last came with a partner.  And the relief was total
as the farmer pumped his spunk into the pretty, almost feminine bum.  The
boy had been silent for several minutes.  How would he take it?  The anus
expelled his cock, and he lifted the boy to his feet.  There was not blood
on his cock, thank goodness.

   'All right, Simon?'

   'It was all right.  Like you said, it hurt at first but then it was all
right.  But not real good.'

   'That will come, boy, after a few fucks.  Believe me.  We had better
clean up.

   ............................................................

   The next Sunday was a really miserable February morning.  It had tried
to snow in the night but not quite made it, leaving about half an inch of
wet mush on the ground, and damp air with a mixture of fine drizzle and the
occasional snowflake.

   Simon had been awake part of the night thinking about sex, and
specifically sex with Mr Ballinger.  The idea was exciting: he had loved
being sucked off, and was beginning to find the idea of being buggered
again very tempting.  He had slipped a finger into his arse during the
night and finally discovered the place where the man's fingers had brought
pleasure.  He had managed to control himself and not come into the
bed-clothes.  That was for later!  Finally he dozed off again and was
awoken as usual by the alarm clock.

   So it was a boy already primed and ready, like a gun with a
hair-trigger, who knocked on the stout oak door of the farmhouse at about
nine.  Mr Ballinger came to the door, helped him off with his anarak, and
the boy left his wet boots by the door.

   'No weather for working outside today, Simon.  But I think we'll keep
you occupied around the house without any problem.  Me too!' He chuckled
that throaty, sexy laugh.

   He must have been up some time because the fire was blazing in the great
open hearth, and there was coffee on the hob, filling the old kitchen with
a pleasant aroma.  They stood in front of the fire, on a deep sheep-skin
rug that Simon noticed as being new since his last visit.  It looked very
soft and inviting there in the warmth of the oak-logs.  But Mr Ballinger
took the boy in his arms and kissed him.  As their tongues met, Simon felt
hands un-pop two buttons on his shirt and a warm, strong hand on his naked
chest, then rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger.  He undid a
couple of button on the man's thick, tartan-plaid shirt-front and slipped
his hand inside, finding a nipple in amongst all that gloriously masculine
body hair, and pulled at that.  The man groaned and his tongue forced
further into the boy's mouth, lips opening wetly.

   He had been thinking about the boy's naked body most of the night,
dreaming of it when asleep too, and his fingers were urgent as they undid
the rest of those burtons down the front of his white poplin shirt and when
it fell open pulled it from the trousers and threw it onto an armchair.  He
realised with some excitement that Simon had decided to do to him exaclty
what he had done to the boy, as his own shirt was undone and discarded, and
they stood there, side-on to the heat, naked chest to naked chest, kissing
again.  Fingers were content at first to caress smooth shoulders, hairy
back, pert male-nipples, but soon Mr Ballinger wanted more and was fumbling
with the boy's belt and zip.  This was the cue for Simon too, and even
quicker than the man he had Mr Ballinger's trousers down.  The two of them
kicked them off and embraced again, naked except for socks and underpants.

   Simon felt his buttocks being stroked and caressed, a hand down the
waist of his y-fronts, and he slid his own right hand down the guy's boxer
trunks, finding that amazingly hairy, muscular butt to stroke and squeeze.
Both cocks were erect now, and pressed together as the embraced.  The
searching hand moved round and grasped his cock, and he reciprocated,
feeling again a weapon that seemed twice the size of his own.  Hands pulled
his pants down, and he pulled down Mr Ballinger's.  Both stepped out of
them and Mr Ballinger spoke, after what had been a long silence, broken
only by the occasional groan of pleasure, and the sound of lips on lips.

   'Lay on the rug with me, boy.'

   They lay head to toe, and instantly the man's mouth was round the boy's
cock.  Mr Ballinger bent his body so his own cock was available to the boy
who held it for a moment before pushing the flared knob into his mouth.  It
really stretched his jaws as he had feared, but felt good nonetheless, soft
and warm on the outside but steely-hard within.  This cock was so familiar,
so like his own and yet so very different, so other.  Mr Ballinger had
managed to get the whole of the boy's shaft into his mouth, and Simon could
feel that tongue fluttering against the sensitive part, at the front just
below his knob: he decided Mr Ballinger deserved some of the fantastic
pleasure too.  It was difficult, but he managed to get some of the man's
cock into his mouth, though he gagged for a second when the knob first
touched the back of his throat.  He found that by letting it slip to one
side he could accommodate most of it, and enough to easily suck and at the
same time lick the sensitive bit.  He knew he had it right when the man
groaned, and swore gently deep and muffled by the mouthful he was enjoying
himself.

   Mr Ballinger wanted the boy to come, to fill his mouth again with that
lovely, satiny boy-cum: but not yet!  Not while he could handle these
pretty little balls in their tight white sack, naked of hair.  Not while he
could stroke a flat, smooth belly, nuzzling the fringe of fine golden
curls. Not while he could fondle the boy's bottom, sliding the side of his
hand into the crease, feeling it first clenched tight and then relax to
allow his fingers to play around the anus.  As before, the boy was fucking
his mouth, small, slow movements of his hips pulling the cock out as far as
its knob, and then forcing it in again.

   Mr Ballinger scarcely noticed his own cock was being sucked so exciting
was this little plaything between his lips, but then he realised that the
boy had, of his own volition and unprompted, started to suck.  This was
beyond his wildest hopes: the boy was eager and willing.  Months, years of
pleasure stretched out in front, full of this pretty little fellow, and
later as he grew, the handsome adolescent, and the muscular well-built
adult.  This was almost too good to be true.  As he stroked the boy's arse,
he could feel small fingers combing through the hair at the base of his
cock, and pulling gently at hairs on the cheeks of his arse.  He could feel
his orgasm was not far away.

   And then the boy came, and Mr Ballinger's mouth was filled with hot,
silky cum.  Simon had been storing it up since Thursday night, and it kept
on coming!  It was too much for Mr Ballinger and he came too.  The boy
gagged a bit as hot spunk splashed into his mouth and onto his palate and
throat, but he sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed till the flow had
almost stopped.  Then they lay quiet, each with a half-hard cock in his
mouth, each hugging a much-desired bottom and belly.

   'No mess, you see, boy.  Not when we both swallow.  Was that ok?'

   'It was fantastic, Mr Ballinger.  I love the feel of being sucked, and
now I know I love sucking too.'

   'Let's have breakfast and take a break!'

   Simon sat at the long, time-worn table watching his lover standing at
the Aga where bacon sizzled in a pan.  He studied the man's body, and hoped
he too would one day have those broad shoulders and muscular arse.  He
doubted whether he would ever be so gloriously hairy though.  He was
turning his head to talk occasionally over his shoulder.

   'Pour yourself a coffee, Simon.  And, I nearly forgot.  Swallow one of
those blue pills in the jar behind the milk.  I've already had one.'

   Simon picked up the bottle and read the label.  Viagra!  He had heard of
that.  Well, why not?  He unscrewed the cap, tipped one into his hand,
swallowed it, and washed it down with a mouthful of hot coffee.

   'I took one, Mr Ballinger.  That was viagra wasn't it?  Will it work?'

   'Don't know, as I never took one before.  But I expect we'll neither of
us need it.  I know I won't with a good-looking boy like you.'

   Simon smiled at the clumsy compliment.  'I don't think I'd need it
either.  I've been thinking about this for days.'

   'And jerking off, I suppose...'

   'No, I've been keeping it for today.'

   'Me,too, boy.'

   He was bending down to get a dish from the lower oven, and Simon for a
moment could see his anus with its mass of black hair.  He wondered what it
would be like to fuck him in his arse.

   'Careful.  That's hot.' The dish steamed on the table and was joined by
a pan of bacon and tomatoes, and a heap of whole-meal toast.

   It was a pleasure to see the boy tuck into bacon and tomatoes and a
plate of kedgeree.  Mr Ballinger just had some toast and bacon and a
coffee: his appetite for food had decreased just as his appetite for sex
with this boy had increased.  He watched as the boy finished a pint of
orange juice, stretching his naked chest as he tipped it down his throat.
Washing away all that cum, Mr Ballinger thought.  There must have been
loads he was so excited.  And now, looking at the boy sitting there naked,
he could feel his cock rising again.  Might be the viagara, or might just
be the inevitable result of that slender young...and available....body.

   The boy wiped his mouth with a napkin, signalling he had finished
breakfast.

   'And now upstairs for some more.  We've got all day, Simon.

   ........................................................

   The huge beams in the ceiling had been painted white, but even that did
not lighten the gloom of the miserable weather, though the bedside lights
helped.  Simon lay naked on the bed: the sheets smelled nice,
newly-laundered.  He watched Mr Ballinger add some coal and another log to
the fire which blazed up.  Odd to have an open fire in a bedroom, he
thought, but it was nice and warm in here and the flames brightened the
place up.  He held his arms open, inviting the farmer to be hugged.  You
could not fail to notice the man's prick was erect again as it waved in
front of him, pointing the way to the bed and its eager occupant.

   The farmer stood by the bed, looking down, taking the opportunity to
feast his eyes on a beautiful body.  He wished he dared photograph it, but
that would have been foolish.  For the boy was indeed very, very sexy with
his tousled blonde hair, a bit too long but even sexier for that reason,
and a cheeky grin on his lips, laughter in those clear blue eyes.  No trace
of hair on a chest that still showed some of the sun-tan of long-past
summer, and that clear line between tanned and white flesh half-way down
his flat, but still boyish and un-muscled belly.  Long, slender legs tanned
as well, and slightly scratched in places from some boyish escapade.  But
the eye focussed, of course on his cock.This was hard again, and the
slender shaft was quite white, as was his hairless scrotum, but the helmet
was a very pretty pink.  He was cut.  The boy had his arms spread, an
invitation that Mr Ballinger accepted with anticipation of great sex.

   'Im not too heavy?' The boy had closed his arms round Mr Ballinger's
back and was hugging him close, his lips on the man's bull-neck.

   'No, it's great.  I can really feel you like this.' The farmer could
feel the boys hands on his arse now, stroking the hair and kneading
muscles.

   'Can you feel this?' His cock had found its way between the boys legs
and was pushing hard, not against his anus, but against the hard bit
between balls and arsehole.

   'Mmmm.  Are you going to fuck me again?'

   'Is that what you want?'

   'Mmmmm.  I think I'd like us to try again.  It was just beginning to be
nice when you came last time...'

   There was a bottle of baby oil on the bedside table and the man knelt to
reach for it.  As he did so, Simon started to turn over to present his arse
as he had learned the week before.  Mr Ballinger stopped him with one hand
firmly on his chest.  'We'll do it this way this time.'

   Simon looked at him enquiring.  'It's good facing each other too. 
You'll see.' He was oiling his cock which shone, huge and veiny in the
rather dim light.  The boy opened his legs, unasked, and smiled as his anus
was oiled, giggling when an impudent finger penetrated him for a couple of
inches.

   'There's a place there where it feels real good.'

   'Here?'

   'That's it.  Oooh!' The finger pressed on the boy's prostate, eased off
and then pressed again.

   'Have to make sure my prick works on you there, then...'

   'Please...'

   He slipped a pillow under the boy's arse, and showed him how to bend his
legs back.  That pretty little anus, shining with oil, presented itself to
view, thick and gnarled finger still in it, contrasting with the smooth,
white skin of the boy's inner thighs.

   'Ready?'

   'I think so...'

   He placed his knob at that lovely portal.  'Hold my cock, and push it in
yourself.'

   The boy grasped it in his left hand and pulled it so that the knob was
hard against his arsehole: that felt good, as it had the first time.  Mr
Ballinger was pushing down too, and the knob slipped in.  The boy flinched
as it hurt, but he was more relaxed this time and the pain was nowhere near
as great.

   'OK?'

   The cock was sliding in now, deeper and deeper until their bodies met
and the full length was in.

   'OK?'

   'Just fuck me...'

   It still ached, but Simon believed him when he said it would eventually
feel so good he would want nothing more than to be fucked, and the bigger
the cock the better.  So he put up with it, and gradually it began not to
hurt, and there was even a sort of pleasure in the knowledge that it was
obviously fantastically good for his partner.  The bed was creaking now,
and the iron bed-head rattling as if someone was pulling an iron chain
through a letter box, he thought.  Then, almost suddenly, and certainly
unexpectedly it began to feel good, so good all other thoughts were driven
from the boy's mind.

   Mr Ballinger was ploughing away at his near-virgin field, and was
overjoyed to hear the boy starting to make little squeaking, cooing,
panting noises.  That he was enjoying it now was confirmed when he
muttered, 'Harder!  Faster!  Ooh, yes!  please!  Faster!  Oh yes, like
that!" The only problem was the man knew that if he went harder, faster, he
would cooooome.  He felt the orgasm rising in his own arse, spreading from
there to his cock, and then he was pumping his hot cum into the boy, spurt
after spurt, one with each arse-clenching thrust.  Gradually he slowed down
until they lay silent in each other's arms as they had begun a few short
minutes before.

   The boy broke the spell.  'I think I could have cum if I had only
touched my cock.'

   'Was it good then?'

   'oh yes!'

   'I'll suck you off now, then.'

   'Can I try fucking you, please?  See what it's like.'

   'Of course!  I'd like that.  I haven't been fucked since Silas Holleyman
departed this life.  Best I kneel I think.  Make sure you use plenty of
oil, mind!'

   'I'm afraid I won't be able to keep going for long: I nearly came just
then.' He was oiling his cock, and then Mr Ballinger felt a hand between
his arse cheeks.  'Cor!  You ain't half hairy.  I like that!' A finger in
his arse now....

   'You be as quick or as slow as you like boy.  I'll find it very exciting
when you cum inside me.  It's been so long....

   It was easy for the boy to get his slender prick into the adult's anus,
though doubtless some black hairs were pulled in with it despite the oil.
To be honest, the cock was not really big enough for much pleasure to the
kneeling figure, but there was psychological delight in being buggered by a
boy who until a week ago had been innocent of such delightful vice!  Where
had he learned to smack the arse as he fucked?  Or had he discovered it for
himself?  Surely must be the latter, and very pleasant it was too to feel
such passion in the boy.  But it did not take long, and the boy emptied his
balls into his hairy bottom.  He collapsed onto the man's back: the
experience had been overwhelming.

   'Good?'

   'Oh yes, thank you Mr Ballinger.  But I think being sucked off is nicer
in fact, really.  I mean it was good, but...' His voice tailed off.

   'And since I would rather suck you off, nice as it was to be fucked,
then we are both in agreement.  We had better rinse off.  Both a bit
messy!'

   ........................................................

   The water in the tap in the basin in the corner of the bedroom was warm,
surprising to Simon, who was used to mostly cold water upstairs except
special occasions.  His Gran kept to the old ways!

   Back to the bed, Simon wondered to himself what would be next.  The
viagra was presumably intended to make this more than a one-cum session! 
It became clear as his host fiddled with the tv in the corner of the room.

   'This is a video I like.  These films were a great comfort to a
"confirmed bachelor" like me till you came into my life.' He laughed and
the film started.  It seemed to be set in Brighton or some such large
seaside resort.  A casually dressed guy was walking along the promenade and
turned onto a pier: you could see he was quite wealthy by the gold chain
and some sort of medal hanging from it that nestled in golden chest-hair,
almost as much as Mr Ballinger's procbably, Simon thought.  Bit naff
though, all that bling!  Gold rings too, and a big, probably fake, gold
Rolex.  Still he was undeniably handsome and worth looking at.  You could
see he was tanned, and had the sort of body that would strip down well. 
Simon was looking forward to that part of the film, confident he would see
the actor naked finally.

   There were some side-shows along the edge of the pier, under a very
ornate cast-iron canopy affair.  The man stopped to watch a youngish boy
who was trying to win a prize at a rifle-shooting gallery.  The camera
homed in at his bottom, very sexy in white cotton shorts that were much too
small for him, emphasising an almost feminine roundness in the cheeks as he
leaned on the shelf taking aim.  He missed again and bought another go: as
he paid the camera panned from his long, tanned legs, upwards to a pristine
white bulge in his shorts, and then up again to a naked, hairless, tanned
chest.  The boy was almost scowling when he missed yet again: he put the
rifle down and ran his fingers through long, over-long really for a young
boy,blonde hair.  The man smiled, and picked up the rifle, bought two
shots, and missed similarly with the first.  However, he then put five in
succession in the bulls-eye.  The old huckster who ran the booth was not
too pleased, but with very little grace handed over a baseball cap with
"sharpshooter" on it, gold on black.

   The man laughed, put it on the blonde boy's head and explained to him
that the booth had adjusted the rifle's sights.  'They hit them with a
hammer!  Try aiming two inches high and one inch to the right, about one
o'clock if the target were a clock face.  Here, I'll pay these.'

   The boy put six into the bull!  He was overjoyed, and gave the cap he
won, again gold lettered, to his teacher!  'Thanks, squire!  It's as easy
as that.  I didn't think I could be so bad as all that!'

   They wandered off together, both blonde, and looking much like a father
and son...  Except in the dodgem cars, which they visited next, not many
fathers would secretly slip a hand up a son's shorts, resting it open on
naked, warm thigh.  And even less likely on the "Big Dipper" sit with an
arm round the boy's naked shoulder, but the hidden hand actually in the
boy's crotch, teasing that bulge under its thin cotton until the shape of a
young boy's cock could quite clearly be felt, and seen.

   The dialogue was sparse, as the film itself showed the progress of this
seduction, but the boy was clearly interested, stimulated, ready for sex,
and venial too.  He was shown a twenty pound note, words were exchanged, he
nodded, and they wandered off hand-in-hand like father and son (or lovers
perhaps) along the Prom, and into the grand, anonymous modern hotel.

   In the lift, the boy was kissed.  He giggled, and the camera showed his
hand on the man's crotch.

   Simon could not take his eyes off the screen.  This was dynamite!

   Mr Ballinger preferred the real thing, and had one arm round his boy's
naked shoulder, the other caressing sometimes chest and nipples, sometimes
flat, smooth belly, and sometimes that lovely little penis, now hard again.
Viagra and porn!  His own cock was hard again too.  Viagra and a naked
teen!

   In the room, the film was really much as the fact had been earlier
between Simon and Mr Ballinger.  Some sucking, some fucking, plenty of
kissing and caressing, and disappointingly most of the cum spraying in
close-up over naked bodies instead of into mouths or arse-holes.  Simon was
about to ask Mr Ballinger why this was, but then worked it out for
himself.....  People would think the man and boy were faking, just acting,
but with those squirts of white cum it was clearly the real thing.  And it
was good to see the cum fly through the air, in slow-motion for one shot.

   'He's very handsome!'

   'The boy or the man?'

   'I meant the man.  The boy is ok but the man is just great.  Would you
be jealous if I said I fancied him?  I mean really rotten!'

   'Of course not, Simon.  I'm not the jealous sort.  Anyway I wouldn't
kick that boy out of bed either.  I'll never be jealous, and hope you get
lots and lots of great sex with lots and lots of handsome men.  Girls too
if that turns you on.  It doesn't me!  And plenty with me too, of course!
Meanwhile, now they've done shall we fuck or suck, as we're both hard
again?'

   'I'd rather suck, please.  And anyway, my bum feels a bit sore after
that fucking.'

   'Come here then.  Lay on top of me.  That's right, with your cock in my
mouth.  Mmmmmm.' The boy's arse felt so good under his palms as he slowly
and gently at first humped the man's mouth.  Mr Ballinger scarcely had to
move his head, allowing the boy to do all the work with the vigour of his
young hips.

   'I can't reach your cock laying like this.'

   He had to take the boy's cock from his mouth momentarily.  'Never mind.
When you've come you can suck me off if you want.'

   'I want!' The cock was back in his mouth now, and he had managed to get
one hand between them to hold the boy's balls, gently pulling at the tight
skin of his sack while the boy fucked him in the mouth.  He could taste
come in his mouth, just a hint of precum so far, but as the boy started to
fuck faster, and hold the man's head between two hands he knew it would not
be long.  It was always a surprise, and a delightful one too.  Hot cum
filled his mouth, and it was difficult to swallow laying on his back.  He
gulped as more came, cock slipping in and out through the silky spunk.  He
swallowed, and as the boy's orgasm subsided, licked the cock clean of the
last oozings.  He slapped the boy on his arse.  'My turn now.'

   'Ouch!  That hurt!'

   'Nice though?'

   'Sorta....'

   Mr Ballinger sat propped against the pillows and the boy lay with his
head on that hairy belly, holding his new favourite toy, and licking it's
length with a tongue that felt pleasantly rough.

   The boy watched as a drop of clear precum welled up from the open eye
and dribbled down the shaft.  He licked and tasted it, then opened his
mouth as wide as it would go and slipped his lips round the flaring,
flaming red helmet.  Mr Ballinger groaned, and the boy felt the body under
his hands stiffen for a moment, those strong hips rising an inch or so,
trying to force more of the cock into his mouth.  Hands gripped his head
and pushed it downwards till the boy's nose rested on that hairy belly.  He
had learned to place the knob in his mouth so it did not make him gag, and
allowed it to rest there, high against his palate, while his tongue worked
up and down the shaft, and his cheeks hollowed with the suction.

   But the boy knew what his lover really wanted, and started to bob up and
down, still sucking hard but making the sensitive front of his cock rub
against tight-closed lips.  This was good, but after about five minutes the
boy was tiring, and especially his wide-stretched jaw.  He knew what to do!
The fingers that had been cradling and tickling hairy balls slid under the
heavy body, found his anus, and an index finger slipped up into it.  Mr
Ballinger groaned, and with the friction on his cock, and the fingering of
his arsehole, found he was coming.

   'I'm going to come!'

   'Mmmm.'

   'Yeees!'

   The boy's mouth was filled with the first spurt of cum, and then
another. He decided there was nothing as good as that silky, warm, slightly
salty man-cum.  There were only the two big splashes, but then the man's
thrusts of his hips got slower and gentler as the boy swallowed, swallowed,
and gathered the last oozings.

   ............................................................

   It was several weks later and the trees had just come into leaf.  Robin
Pendlebury peddled his bicycle grimly through the rain, puddles splashing
up at him, and at times the rain so heavy that the drops actually splashed
up from the road.  Typical of Spring, the rain had come suddenly and by the
time he had got his yellow plastic cape out of the saddlebag he was already
wet through.  He cursed.  It was bad luck.  If only it had held off another
twenty minutes he would have finished his newspaper round in the dry: he
wished he had done Holleyman Farm first and was back in the village where
he could have found some shelter.  To cheer himself up he let his mind
wander to Jane Burtenshaw.  Last night she had let him feel her tits while
they snogged.  When he saw her next Wednesday he promised himself he would
find out whether she wore stockings or tights!  These happy thoughts made
the mile-long muddy lane pass by quickly, and gave him a pleasant hard on.
He promised himself a wank when he got home.

   He knocked at the very ancient oak door, and waited with rain dripping
off his hair and down the neck of his cape.  at least the Sunday papers
were still dry in their orange shoulder-bag.

   The door opened finally, and it was Farmer Ballinger ....  naked except
for a towel around his waist.

   'Lord, boy, you're soaked to the skin.  A drowned rat.  Come in until
the rain eases off.'

   The boy stepped inside, and thought it was very pleasantly warm in this
old place, and there was a fine smell of breakfast bacon and coffee.

   'Hang that cape up, and take your shoes off.  Put them there beside
mine. Come and have some breakfast.  I've got Simon Jarvis here.  You know
him?'

   'Oh yes.  We go on the same school bus, but he's a year ahead of me.'

   'So you're thirteen?  It's Robin isn't it?'

   The boy nodded, and noticed he was not the only one with a hard-on.  The
huge, muscled, hairy farmer had an erection that was making a tent in the
tightly wrapped bath towel round his waist.  Robin was no innocent and
fully expected this man would make a pass at him.  His Uncle Harry had been
sucking his penis and fucking his anus for two years now, and he had come
to accept it, even enjoy it.  And sex with this guy, who was built like
Conan in the comics, but was much hairier, would be exciting.  He wondered
why comic-book heroes, always muscular, were never hairy!  Perhaps the
artists could not draw hair.

   Robin was sitting at the table.  He seemed to be naked too!

   'Now you get out of those wet clothes, and we'll dry them in no time.'
He was setting a sort of rack in front of the Aga.  'Come on now.' He
started to undo the boy's shirt buttons, and fumbled with the belt, again
that favoured inter-locking snakes buckle.  The boy seemed willing enough.
He had him down to his underpants when his own towel came loose and fell
off, revealing the rampant cock, itself in scale with the massive and
muscular body that framed it.

   Robin stepped back frozen for an instant in the act of lowering his
white y-fronts, eyes fixed on the bare body.

   Mr Ballinger, too, was staring at the boy, who now completed his
undressing and stood naked facing him.  This was only the second boy the
man had seen naked in his whole life (or at least close enough for it to
have any real effect), and the impact was shattering.  The boy was the most
beautiful thing he had ever seen, slightly built but with long, smooth legs
and a pretty, pert bottom.  His belly still had some of the unmuscular
roundness of a child, and his tanned chest was innocent of any body hair,
nipples tiny and brown.  He had a shy smile on his face, but in his eyes
was fascination with the flesh on show to him in his turn.  As Mr Ballinger
looked at him, he saw the boy's cock stiffen from a graceful arc into a
nice erect shaft, tight up against his belly, knob pink against the
whiteness of modestly un-tanned skin.  He had just a light fringe of black
pubic hair, a pretty little triangle.  His haircut was too short for Mr
Ballinger's taste, who was enjoying the long blonde locks of his other boy,
but he would soon come to enjoy the feel of that crew-cut beneath his
caressing hands.

   He was aware of the boy looking him up and down as well, and turned
sideways-on a bit to give the boy a good view of his cock and balls in
profile.  This was only the second naked adult male Robin had seen, as like
the man he was sexually quite inexperienced.  His Uncle Harry was not at
all sexy compared with this guy, who exuded masterful masculinity.  Again
images from the comics came into the boy's mind, and he understood a bit
more about the attraction of those muscular superheros with their bulging
tights.  His cock was a bit alarming viewed as a tool for buggering arses,
but certainly well worth sucking!  For the time being at any rate Jane
Burtenshaw was banished from Robin's mind, relaced by this bear of a man.
And he knew that he would give his young body to the guy at the first
opportunity, which he suspected would be soon.

   At the table Simon sat with a cup of coffee in both hands, looking at
the couple in front of the stove.  He had never seen Robin naked, as they
were in different years at school and so never showered together, but what
he saw now was quite exciting, and he could imagine the pleasure to be had
from laying with his arms around the boy, and hopefully slipping a few
inches of hot meat into him.

   'Hey you two!  Stop gawping at each other....  the breakfast's getting
cold.'

   Robin sat beside Simon, and Mr Ballinger at the head of the table.  They
had black puddings, sausages, bacon, eggs, mushrooms and some lamb chops.
'We reckon a breakfast like this lasts all day, and we don't have to
interrupt anything to come down and eat.  I take some juice up with us to
the bedroom, because that's where Simon and I are going to spend the rest
of Sunday.  You, too, if you feel like some fun, young Robin.'

   'I'd like that, Mr Ballinger.  But I have to be back for lunch at two.
I'll tell Ma I helped you and Simon....  shift some hay bales.'

   'Good thinking, Robin.  Plenty of time then.  But we better get started,
and you better swallow one of these if you want to keep up with us.' He
pushed the bottle of blue pills in front of the boy, who read the label.

   'I've heard of these.  Do they really work?'

   'Tell him, Simon.'

   'They certainly do, Robin.  That cock will be hard all afternoon, no
matter how many times Mr Ballinger and I drain it.  You betcha!' He reached
down and had his first feel of the younger lad's prick.

   The boy swallowed a pill, and washed it down with the rest of his
coffee.

   ........................................................................

   'In the middle, Robin, at least to start!'

   We men are all the same.  No matter how good the sex is with an existing
partner (and it was good for Simon and his farmer), no matter how
passionate we feel for a girl or boy, the prospect of a new lover, a
different body to caress, makes us forget everything.  So Robin, laying
between the two males, felt two pairs of hands all over his body, fondling,
squeezing, stroking, and lips on his lips, mouths on his cock, his nipples
nibbled, his hair ruffled, the delicate triangle of hair at the root of his
cock combed by eager fingers.  And he loved it all.  His own hands wandered
sometimes over muscular, hairy thighs and belly, and sometimes over the
smooth, silky skin of his school-friend.  His little cock stood proud and
ready for anything.

   Mr Ballinger leaned back a moment and looked at the two boys, blessing
his own good fortune.  Their slender tanned limbs were entwined, arms and
legs, and they were kissing passionately.  He could not see their cocks but
knew they were hard and could see their young bodies writhing and heaving
as they tried to rub cocks together, or against smooth belly or thigh,
anywhere to start to satisfy the urges coursing through their adolescent
bodies.

   As he kissed and cuddled, Robin could hear Mr Ballinger speaking: he had
to concentrate a moment to get the gist of it so involved was he in this
new, exciting sex.

   'I'd like to see you two boys fuck each other.  Who is going to be first
to fuck the other?'

   Simon had heard too, and both boys answered 'Me!', and then both giggled
at their eagerness.

   'I've never fucked anyone before....' That was Robin.

   'But I think you have been fucked?'

   'Oh yes!'

   'Well, you have Simon first and then let him fuck you.  I'll watch...'

   Simon was already turning over to lay on his belly, and Mr Ballinger's
cock twitched involuntarily at the sight of that smooth, tanned back and
the white, tempting bottom, seen so often over the weeks but always so
sexy.

   Robin had noticed the baby oil on the side table as soon as they had
come into the bedroom, as it was the same brand as his Uncle Harry used on
him.  Simon was laying with one leg bent double so it was easy to part his
bottom cheeks and drip oil onto his anus.

   Mr Ballinger's cock leaked precum at the sight of the second boy
kneeling naked and oiling his shaft.

   Simon sighed as the slender cock penetrated, and he felt the boy's
weight on his buttocks.  He had been fucked many times, of course, and had
come to love it, as his mentor had promised him.  It did the older man's
heart good to see the boy enjoying being fucked, just he had learned to at
the same age, and just as he had hoped the boy would.  He was a good lad,
and a lovely fuck too, and the germ of an idea came for an instant into Mr
Ballinger's mind, to be overlaid almost immediately by the desire to lean
over and apply his lips gently to that smooth, white bottom which was now
heaving energetically and rhythmically.  Robin felt the kiss, and looked
for a moment over his shoulder, taking in the kneeling figure with its
great, hairy cock.  He laughed, and went back to his fucking.  Simon was
silent now, head buried in the pillow, but his buttocks arched to get the
maximum penetration from his new friends penis.

   Robin reached under the kneeling boy, and found as he had hoped a stiff
little prick to hold onto while he slapped the boys arse, one smack for
each thrust, with a part-open hand so it echoed round the tall-ceilinged
room.  He was aware, too, of the farmers hands squeezing and stroking his
buttocks and adding to the whole sensual experience.  This was his first
fuck as the Top and it was a good one with a compliant and appreciative boy
under him, and as an audience a very randy gorilla of a guy.  He became
aware that the prick he was grasping was becoming sticky: precum was
flowing there.

   'Don't you cum, Simon, before me.  I want you to fuck me next!' He
slowed down a bit as he spoke.

   'Don't stop!  Fuck me harder!'

   Robin speeded up again, and knew he was not far from coming.  The hands
were still caressing his buttocks, and he felt a finger penetrate.  This
was too much and he came, the biggest and longest orgasm he had ever known,
pumping his young spunk deep inside.  He collapsed nto the kneeling boy,
pushing him back into the position he had started in, laying there his cock
still hard, throbbing and twitching, and feeling the anus grip and release
in spasms echoing his own.  He kissed his friend in the small of his tanned
back, tasting the salt there now.

   'Now me!' Simon's anus expelled the still-hard cock and he turned Robin
over onto his belly on the bed.  He knew it would not take him long to cum
after the hard shagging he had just enjoyed but also knew the viagra held
the promise of much more before it was time to go home to his Gran.  He
placed a hand on each of the smooth, firm buttocks, so white and silky to
the touch, and it was strange not to have the hairy and muscular body he
was used to.  It was good as well, though!  Parting the cheeks, there was
the tight little arsehole, puckered and darker than the creamy flesh around
it: pretty, he thought, as he bent to kiss it.  The boy arched his back,
and for a moment felt a tongue penetrate, but it was soon withdrawn. 
Simon's cock was too insistant to be kept waiting.
A few drops of oil on his knob was all the boy needed to get it into
Robin, who did not protest as the shaft slid up into him and his bottom
took Simon's weight.  Simon was smaller in size than his Uncle Harry, and
he tried squeezing on it to make his arse feel more full.  Simon groaned,
but it seemed to be a groan of pleasure and Robin clenched his anus again.
Now he was being fucked properly.  He realised that his Uncle Harry was a
feeble and unsatisfactory lover compared with the vigour of these thrusts
deep into him.  What he lacked in size the boy made up for in the speed and

power of his hips, crashing into Robin's arse.

   But it could not last!  Simon felt the cum rising in him and knew he
would not be able to stop it this first time, so decided to let it rip. 
With a crescendo of rapid, stabbing thrusts he came, before collapsing onto
the subject of his lust.

   Mr Ballinger had been watching these juvenile frolics with increasing
excitement: his turn now to have the new boy who certainly seemed eager and
was already getting ready, laying on his belly with a pillow under his
hips. His hard little-boy arse jutted up invitingly and the farmer kneeled
between his legs.  Simon muttered something about the bathroom and left the
bed.  Mr Ballinger hoped this did not indicate some sort of jealousy in the
boy, but the idea was driven from his head by the feel of smooth buttocks
under his palms.  A few weeks ago he had only dreamed of having a boy as a
plaything, watched porn videos and fantasised about teenage cocks and
bottoms, and now here he was with not just one willing little bed-partner,
but two.  And this boy was if anything even more beautiful than the first.
He placed a kiss in the middle of that tanned, triangular back, grasped his
cock, oily now, and placed it over the boy's arsehole.  The bottom moved a
bit, jutting up further to help him.
Robin felt no fear.  He had been fucked often enough by his Uncle Harry
and felt that his arse had been well opened and lubricated by Simon's cock.
This bigger weapon would slide in easily in the other boy's cum.  He felt
the weight of the man focussed through his flaring red knob onto his
arsehole.  It was not quite positioned right, so he moved his bottom a bit,
and then it was.  He heard himself murmuring 'That's right.  That's it.'
Lips planted a kiss in the small of his back and a shudder of pleasure went
through his young body.  His buttocks were pulled further apart, and there
was a momentary pang as that large cock entered him.  Then it was good. 

'Oh, yes!  Now fuck me!  Hard!'

   The boy wanted to be fucked hard?  Well that suited Mr Ballinger who was
as horny for this slender body as he had ever been for anything.  He pulled
back, rammed it in, and heard the sigh of pleasure.  This was going to be
good.  He thrust, withdrew, thrust again, and took up a rapid, stabbing
rhythm, his thighs crashing into that bubble butt.  Beneath him there were
little cries of delight, and exhortations to do it harder and faster.  This
was going to be too quick, he knew, but it was to good to do anything
except cuuuuum!  And cum he did, spilling his cum into that arse as it
contracted on him.  Finally he collapsed onto the boy, licking his neck and
whispering his gratitude.

   Simon had returned.

   'We'd better go clean up too!' They watched each other as each rinsed
his cock in the wash-basin, and put a facecloth over arsehole.  Robin
watched as the older man pissed.

   'You going to put a film on?' Simon liked porn!  'The tropical beach one
is good.'

   They lay cozily together propped against the pillows, Robin between the
two more seasoned lovers, and watched the film.

   It was night, and a couple lay on a bed, naked with no covering sheets.
She was a pretty blonde, nice firm tits, tiny waist, and broad hips.  Robin
was interested in her, but the attention of Simon and Mr Ballinger was more
directed on the man.  The guy woke up.  He had an erection and he reached
out to the woman.  She muttered something like 'Not now, James.  Not
again.' and turned over.  Robin thought she had a lovely arse.  Simon
thought the guy had a fine cock, and Mr Ballinger decided the guy was
probably uncut.  The guy got up and walked to the door.  It was a chalet
giving straight out onto a tropical beach, sand and palm trees, sea about
fifty metres down the beach, and a big, full moon making it almost as light
as day.  The guy stroked his cock as he strolled down to the sea and
paddled in the gently lapping waters.

   A boy was watching from under one of the clumps of palms.  The camera
showed his slim, lithe body, and a close-up of a hard little cock being
stroked by a tiny fist.  The boy ran over to join the man.

   'Twenty dollars, mister....'

   'For what?'

   'Everything....my cock, my mouth, my arse...' The boy reached out and
held the man's cock, his hand and the man's both having plenty of room on
its length.

   'I'll have to get the money.  Wait here.'

   'Pay later.  Play now.'

   On the bed the three lovers watched while the man sucked the boy off,
slender hips thrusting as the boy shagged him in the mouth.  Then the boy
knelt and sucked the man for a bit till he was told to kneel, and was
fucked in the arse.  There was nothing artistic about the film, just a
celebration of a man's handsome body, a boy's sexuality, and finally the
money-shot as the man sprayed his cum all over the boy's arse, glistening
in the moonlight.

   'I like that one, but why do they always cum over an arse or face?  It's
much better in the mouth or bottom.'

   'I agree, Simon, but it's probably to show it's gen.  Not just actors
faking.  Anyway, I could like a little native boy like that.'

   'You're just an old cock-hound Mr Ballinger.  I know what you like.'

   And Simon was laying between the man's legs, licking at a cock that was
about half hard.

   'Me too!' Robin was beside him and they gave him the pleasure of two
young mouths on his cock and balls, four soft hands on his belly, thighs
and hips.As he lay there his mind wandered to the fantasy that had often
accompanied his masturbation, nights in those long, lonely years between
the death of his lover and "father",Silas Holleyman, and the arrival of
Simon that winter's afternoon.  He lay there dreaming he was an Ottoman
Pasha whose servants scoured the Empire for the prettiest, most willing
boys for his bed.  Sometimes it would be blondes from the Ukraine, skin
white as mare's milk and cocks stiff, with their little pink helmets.  Lads
from India, brown skin like silk and skilled already in the arts of love.
Arab boys, circumcised with hard, athletic bottoms.  Red-headed Celts
captured as slaves along the coasts of Scotland, terrified as he bent them
over to bugger them, but later compliant and eager.

   There was no need for these daydreams now, and he reached down to tousle
blond and dark hair, and then rested a hand on each smooth shoulder.  The
boys sucked and licked, and he knew he would come soon.  He only wondered
which, Robin or Simon, would receive the first vigorous spurt....

   .....................................................................

   Another afternoon, early summer now, and the farmer and his boy sitting
propped up against an old oak tree at the edge of the great wood.  The
noises of summer were all around them, bees and insects buzzing and crows
calling in the tall trees.  The boy was chewing a stalk of grass.  The man
was fully dressed, but the boy was stripped to the waist, chest suntanned
and fit, lean but not yet muscular.  They were silent and had been for some
minutes, each with his own thoughts.

   'I was just your age, Simon, when Silas Holleyman adopted me.'

   'Yes?'

   'You know I have not a single relative in the world, as far as I know. I
was an orphan like you and if there were family, I never knew them.'

   'Sad...'

   'Not really.  But the point is, when I die the farm just goes to the
Government.  No heir.'

   'Make poor sort of farmers that lot I should think.'

   'Oh, they'd just sell it.  You're a good lad, and will be a good farmer.
Would you like the farm when I'm gone?  Just as Silas left it to me.'

   'I'd like that.  But it's a long time off....'

   'Time passes so quickly.  I should adopt you, like Silas adopted me.'

   'You're already like a father to me...and more!'

   'I'd have to talk to your Gran.  You could keep your name, out of
respect for your father, just as I did.'

   'I think Gran would like that.  Her sister has a bungalow at Frinton
beside the beach, and she wanted to go there to live.  I think it was only
me that stopped her.'

   'I'll go over and have a chat with her tomorrow.  Don't you say anything
till I have.  Now, this is too nice a day to waste.  Come here and give me
a kiss.

  
...........................................................................
..........



   It was mid-summer now and the two boys lay on the river bank, silently
watching the water ripple by.  There were two guns in the soft grass beside
them, and four dead rabbits hung from a branch of a tree a few yards away,
already attracting the attention of summer flies.  The two were almost
inseparable now, bonded as only two lads can be who have swallowed each
other's cum, and given their young bottoms to each other's pleasure.  They
were stripped to the waist and laying on their backs, a beautiful sight!

   'I don't think there are any!'

   They had been laying there for over an hour hoping to get a shot at
mink, escaped or deliberately released from a fur-farm and severely
predating the wild-fowl on the river.

   'Father says he saw a couple here last week.'

   'Well, they aint here today!  You must get lots of sex now you're living
at the farm.'

   'Every night!'

   'Lot's of viagra I guess?'

   'We don't need it.  Father's always hard, and you know I am!  We use it
when you come round on Sundays because we want to fuck more times, the
three of us.'

   'Funny to hear you calling Mr Ballinger "father".  You sleep in his
bed?'

   'I've got my own room.  Sometimes I sleep in his all night though.'

   'When you're completely shagged out I suppose!  It's fuckin hot today.
I'm going to have a dip.'

   Robin stripped off his khaki shorts and Simon had a brief view of his
cock as he ran a few steps and dived in.  He pulled his own shorts down and
jumped in beside his friend.Legs rose in the air clear of the water, and
Robin disappeared from view.  Moments later Simon felt arms round his naked
buttocks, and a mouth nuzzling his cock under water.  He fell over,
laughing, and they struggled together under water, wrestling and feeling
each others' bodies.  The water was still cold from the night before, and
neither was hard.  Robin pulled away, and Simon saw him lay down on his
back on the riverbank, naked to the hot sun.  He joined him, water
dripping.

   They lay there, silent, soaking up the sun.  Robin turned over on his
belly: Simon joined him in the same position moving a bit closer as he
rolled over, his head resting on cupped hands.  'You get anywhere with
what-her-name, Jane?'
'No, she's just a prick-teaser.  she'll never let me fuck her I know. 

I've dropped her.  You're not into girls, Simon?'

   'I used to think I was, but now I know it's men and boys for me.  I've
even thrown away the pics of girls I used to wank with, before you and
father I mean.  No.  I know what I like.' He shifted a bit close till their
legs and hips were touching and reached out to stroke the boy's bottom. 
'You look good, Robin, tanned all over, lovely and smooth, and firm.'

   'It's all this nude sun-bathing.  And I'm glad you fancy me, because I
really fancy you!'

   'And not like Jane, I let you fuck me as much as you want.'

   'And vice versa!'

   They now had arms lightly over each other's shoulders, and both were
absent-mindedly stroking and caressing warm, tanned flesh.

   'You once told me you only like big, muscular, hairy men.'

   'That was before I found out how good sex is with a sexy teen!'

   They were in each other's arms now, side-by-side, and there was a pause
in the conversation while they kissed, a real lovers' kiss, mouths open and
tongues struggling to enter the other's mouth.

   'Mmmm.  That's always good!  Does your father go with other men?  Your
big hairy guys?'

   'No.  He would if he could though.  He had sex all those years with
Silas Holleyman, and he was built like a barn.  But I'm sure he prefers
young boys like us.  All his porn dvds and videos are guys with boys.  You
know he told me he had read that one in ten men are gay, and that half of
all men have gay sex sometimes, so they are bi.'

   'Makes you think!  So you're the one-in-ten Simon, and I'm the one-in
two.'

   'Makes you think, yes.  And I was thinking that there are thirty boys in
my class, so there should be two other gay boys, and fifteen who might not
say no.  But I can't decide which is which!'

   'There's one boy who is ceratinly gay in my class.  You know Cecil
Lemaitre?'

   'He's a bit of a wimp, isn't he?'

   'The other boys are rough on him and he gets bullied a lot.  I don't
bully!'

   'How do you know he's gay?'

   'He's always hard in the showers, and looking at other boys, especially
me!'

   'You don't mind do you, Robin?'

   'I like it.  And he's not bad looking either, stripped.  Nice clear
skin, small, of course, but a lovely big cock.  Cut.  You'd love his arse,
you bummer!'

   'Big cock?  Doesn't look as if he has.'

   'He has.  At least as big as your father's.  More I should think.'

   'Let's have him.  I'll tell you what we'll do.  We'll ask him to come
mink-shooting with us.  He'll jump at it being lonely, and probably in love
with you.  Get him here.  Swim naked.  He'll get hard, and we can have
him!'

   'And then have a sexy foursome Sunday with your father!'

   'Sounds good.  Hey!  You're hard like me.'

   Robin turned round and they took up the classic sixty nine position
side-by-side, hands wandering all over bodies, heads bobbing and hips
thrusting as they sucked each other.  Their sex had all the enthusiasm of
youth and they rolled about in the lush grass, sometimes one on top,
sometimes the other.  A close observer would have seen the two brown bodies
intertwined, all legs and arms, and then fingers slipped into anuses as the
prelude to the inevitable gushing, mouth-filling, gulping boy-juice cums.

   ............................................

   That's all for now, but the story will go on for another fifty years I
guess.....