Date: Sat, 27 Jul 2002 19:20:38 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jess Sudhir <jesssudhir@yahoo.com>
Subject: farmboys-and-ghettoboyz/city2country (incest, interracial, rural)

farmboys and ghettoboyz
Part One:  city2country
by Jess Sudhir

(thanks to superfan "Donny" for inspiring this story)

Grunting, the big black boar mounted the quivering pink sow, grinding
blindly into her flesh.  And us?  We all stood around as if hypnotized,
watching the raw display of animal lust.  I felt my dick rise hard, and
scrape against the rough and unfamiliar denim of my overalls.

Breaking my concentration, I glanced around.  Every face I saw had the same
glassy-eyed, mouth-slightly-open look.  I could see a rosy glow even on the
dark-skinned face of my older brother, and the pale Boysen brothers (who
must have seen this a thousand times) were openly flushed.

Helplessly, I felt my hand creep, as though possessing its own volition,
down to my all-too-accessible crotch, there to grasp at my burning dick and
to give its throbbing irritation a bit a of relief.  Around the circle, the
frenzied grunting of the pigs had been joined by the more human sound of
labored breathing, as the assembled boys began to succumb to their own
excitement.

A moan escaped me, deep and agonized.  But wait!  It was not me who
vocalized our collective pleasure, but Bobby, the eldest among us.  And
looking around the circle again, I realized that the hand of each and every
boy was similarly occupied in the cause of pleasure and relief.

This thought only increased my own sensations, until a wave of feeling rose
up within me --shuddering, I exploded against the harsh fabric, and felt my
seed run, wet and sticky, down my leg.

I could go on.  But the story really begins a week earlier, and a hundred
miles distant, in the middle of the city, in the first great heat of
summer.

No place is ever hot in the way that the city is hot.  The heat begins in
the depths of the subway, and rises inexorably, so that one cannot escape
it even on the heights of the roofs.  Heat was in the air, as I stood on
the edges of the hard asphalt, and watched my handsome, arrogant brother
demonstrate his ghetto-honed basketball skills on a pair of hapless
whiteboys.

All three were shirtless, and I could admire, as I often had before, the
sculpted musculature of my brother's brown-skinned chest, the hard powerful
knots that adorned his youthful body.  He dominated the court, his
opponents merely faded shadows.

White people were still ciphers to me then, pale ghosts, and these two
seemed ill at ease on the playground court.  I imagined them riding the
subway down from some prep school, changing clothes furtively in some back
alley, and emerging --only to submit helplessly to a black idol whose body
was poetry in motion.

For reasons I did not understand, my dick throbbed hard in my baggy shorts.

Later, I stood in the filthy lobby of the housing project I called home,
and waited for the slow elevator to complete its ponderous journey
downwards.  As the thick metal doors finally slid open, I was surprised to
see that the only passenger, a scrawny brown-skinned kid a little younger
than I, failed to get off.

Curiosity is not a survival trait in the projects, however, so I gave it no
more mind, until the elevator was in motion, and I heard the unmistakable
sound of piss hitting metal.  Turning, I saw the kid, brown dick in hand,
spraying urine against the shiny aluminum interior of the elevator.

"Fucking projects!" said the kid.  "I piss on you!"

He looked at me with a sly grin.

"Wanna join me?"

As he said these words, my bladder suddenly felt full to bursting, and it
somehow seemed the most natural thing in the world for me to tug down my
shorts, and add my stream to his, the droplets of spray bouncing off the
wall, and spattering against our bare legs.

"Fucking projects," the kid said again.  He had finished pissing, but was
still cradling his dick in his hand, tugging at it gently as it stiffened
and hardened.  My dick hardened as well, causing the last few drops of my
piss to fly off at crazy angles.  I stood there frozen, hand on cock,
afraid to jerk off, but unwilling to let go.

"Fucking fucking projects," said the kid, beating off violently in time
with his words.  All unbidden, my own hand began to move on my swollen
organ.  The elevator swayed and shook.  I couldn't believe this was
happening to me.  I was so curious about sex, but still shy and
inexperienced, although I tried to hide it with the thug bravado of a
ghetto boy.  I knew I shouldn't be fascinated by another boy's cock, but I
was.  I really was.

"Let me suck your dick!" the kid suddenly said, advancing on me, and
causing me to dance backwards.  At that very moment, the elevator chose to
finally come to a spastic halt.

"Maybe later!" I said, jerking my shorts up as the door rumbled open.
Fortunately the hall was deserted.  Adrenaline coursed through my veins as
I escaped into the dimly lit hall.  As the doors closed, my new friend gave
a sudden moan, and cum fountained from the tip of his dick, flew through
the narrowing gap, and struck me on the forehead.

My heart pounded as I trudged through the filthy hall, and I tried to clean
myself up.  I couldn't believe what had just happened.  And why had I
turned down a blow job?  As I made it halfway towards our apartment, I
suddenly turned around, and ran back towards the elevator, banging the
button with urgency.  Then I fidgeted for an eternity, waiting, massaging
my hardon through my shorts, and dreaming of the pleasure that awaited me.

Finally, a bell rang, and the doors opened, to reveal, not my friend, but
my brother, basketball cradled in his arms and sweat oiling his skin.

"Where you going, punk?" he asked.

"No-nowhere," I stuttered.  "You... you played well today."

"Always," he said, brushing me roughly aside, as he sauntered towards our
apartment.

Shamefaced, I followed him, a dog trailing its master.  My balls ached, and
I was in a bad mood.  As we entered our place, a cool and clean paradise
that stood, as always, in sharp contrast to the hell outside, I wanted
nothing more than to lock myself in the bathroom and jerk my dick until I
came.

But mom was waiting for us inside.

"Good news boys," she said.  That meant bad news.  "I finally got you two
into the City-to-Country program."

"The what?" said my brother.

"City-to-Country", said my mother.  "You two boys are going to spend all
summer out in the country, living and working on a farm."

The basketball dropped right out of my brother's grasp, and my dick
withered in my pants.  All I could think about was the fact that if I left
town, I probably would never see my new friend again.  And I had missed
what might be my one and only chance to get my dick sucked.

Little did I know what amazing experiences awaited me.

**************

When Tyshawn and I got off the train in Pastureville, Bobby was there
waiting for us, a baseball cap pushed low over his unruly blond hair, and
his hands deep in the pockets of his ragged overalls.  My brother and I
were ghetto-sharp in ironed denim shorts and oversized sports jerseys, and
I could tell that Tyshawn was unimpressed by Bobby's unkempt appearance.
But I was already springing wood.  Overalls always seemed sexy to me, ever
since this kid at my school had worn them one day without a shirt on
underneath.  We had study hall together at the end of the day, and he had
shown me that he wasn't wearing underwear either.  I can still remember the
thrill I felt, sitting next to him, seeing the blue cloth against the black
body.

Like the kid from school, Bobby wasn't wearing a shirt, and I could see his
powerful chest muscles behind the overall's denim frontpiece, which hung on
one frayed strap.  I couldn't help but wonder about the underwear, and
imagine Bobby's white penis curled inside the pants.

"You the boys from the city?" Bobby drawled.

No answer seemed necessary.  We were the only black people for miles
around.  Bobby spat lazily in a corner, and then grabbed up our suitcases.
As we set off down the road, I noticed that he wasn't wearing shoes, his
dirty feet striding heedlessly through the dust and gravel.

"You a Knicks fan?" said Bobby, after we had been walking about fifteen
minutes, jerking his head at Tyshawn's Knicks jersey.  My own Bulls jersey
escaped comment.

Tyshawn's face lit up.  "Yeah!  You?" he said.  Soon the two of them were
deep in conversation, while I hung behind, watching their young asses
switch around in their pants.

Meeting the rest of the family was like entering a Norman Rockwell
painting.  In addition to Bobby, there were Frankie and Sid,
mischievous-looking identical twins with unruly mops of brown hair, and
Randy (a little younger than I) who had sour look on his freckled face, and
a cowlick in his bright red hair.  For some reason, when I saw the family,
all together, they made me think of sex, and I had no idea why.

I began to get the first notion of why that night, at bath time.  The
Boysens had an old fashioned tub that had to be filled by hand, and were
used to taking baths in pairs, with Bobby, the eldest, sharing a tub with
Randy, the youngest (and the inseparable twins bathing together).

What made most sense was for me and my brother to take a bath together.
But my brother refused.

"I ain't taking a bath with that little faggot" he said.

So instead he took one with his new best buddy, Bobby.  Why it was better
to be naked with a total stranger than with his own brother I didn't know
--but it drove me crazy.  I didn't know why I was disappointed not to be
naked in the water with my brother.  I just knew that I was.  And the fact
that he looked so happy, laughing and giggling as he trouped into the
bathroom with Bobby? I knew why that bothered me.  It was plain old
jealousy.

"Here!" said Frankie, a grin on his face.  "Let's listen at the door!"

I was all too eager to comply, but all we heard was splashing and laughing.
Then I heard Bobby say:

"You can go ahead and touch it if you want."

The twins collapsed in laughter.  My mind was racing.  Surely it couldn't
be what I thought it was --not the image that had come into my mind, and
made my dick hurt.  But what else could it be?  What could my brother be
touching, if not Bobby's dick?  But that couldn't be true.  Not my
masculine, homophobic asshole of a brother.  It must of been something else
he was touching.  A scar on Bobby's arm... or leg.  Or no.  Something
safer.  A bathtub toy?  No.  The spigot.  That must be it.  I could see it
in my mind, the long hard nozzle, glinting a dull silver, with the big
round knobs down below, and my brother's brown-skinned hand reaching out to
caress it as the water all ran out in a gush.

But there was no spigot on the Boysen's tub!  It had to filled by hand!
Which meant that the hard object my brother had his hands all over must
be...

"Quick!" hissed Sid.  "Back into the bedroom."

We scattered, and just in time, as the door flew open and Bobby and Tyshawn
trouped back out, towels wrapped tightly around their wet bodies.  The
intimacy between them made a loud humming sound that hurt my stomach.  But
now it was my time for a bath.

Unfortunately, I had drawn the short straw.  In a family filled with
beautiful laughing boys, I had ended with a pale, scrawny and freckled
redhead, with a permanent scowl on his sour face.  He scuttled into the
bathroom ahead of me, and pointedly turned his back.

"We'll go one at a time," he said, peeling off his clothes.  "I'll go
first."

It was fine with me.  With him refusing to look at me, I could stare all I
wanted.  We didn't take showers at my school, so it was the first time I
had ever been naked with a stranger.  And the white flesh did strange
things to me.  Randy's arms and legs were freckled and tan, but his ass was
so pale, it almost seemed to glow.  As he climbed into the tub, he caught a
glimpse of me staring and glowered, but I didn't care.

As Randy soaped himself up, I slid out of my pants.  It was a good thing he
wasn't looking at me, because my dick was a rock.  I couldn't stop my hands
from giving me some sweet relief.  As I watched Randy carefully wash
himself all over, I imagined in was my hands running over his skinny body.
It was all I could do to keep from moaning as the sensations built up
inside my crotch.  My eyes were almost popping from my head as Randy stood
up, scant inches from me, and carefully soaped his asshole.  He was so
ungraceful it was painful, but the pain felt like pleasure and I couldn't
hold it any longer, I was blowing my load, and of course it splattered all
across Randy's bare back.

I can only assume he thought it was shampoo.

A few minutes later, as I took my turn in the tub, Randy, still pointedly
not looking at me, surprised me with a question.

"Doesn't it make you mad when your brother calls you a faggot?" he asked.

"Yeah," I admitted.

"My brothers call me that too," he volunteered.  "But they're the faggots."

"What do you mean?" I said.

"They all like to fuck each other," he said.  My mind rebelled at the
concept.

"You're sick!" I said.  "They're brothers!"

"They don't like me `cause I won't give them my ass," said Randy.

"You're a sicko," I said.  But my dick was hard again at the very concept.
Brothers fucking each other?  Was that even possible?  And if it was...

"Your brother's probably a fag too," said Randy.

"He is not!  Take that back, motherfucker!" I said.

"You're an asshole," said Randy.  He got up and stomped out.  As he did,
his towel came undone, and I caught another glimpse af his cute tight ass.

Unfortunately for Randy, considering he thought I was an asshole, it turned
out we were going to have to share a bed as well as a tub.  I had used to
sleep in the same bed as my brother at home, but about a year ago he had
kicked me out, and now I spent every night on the floor.  So this was
better.  But being in bed with a strange boy drove me crazy.  There was no
way I could sleep.  Wild thoughts kept on chasing through my head.  Was
that a bulge in the covers?  Did he have a boner under the sheets?  Was he
going to wait until he thought I was asleep, and jerk off in bed?

Just then, Randy rolled over and accidentally brushed against me.  Although
he jerked away like he had touched a fire, it gave me a plan.  I carefully
wriggled closer to the center of the bed.  I was so close I could feel the
warmth radiating off his body, but I wasn't touching him.  But if he moved
at all, he would have to press against me.  As I waited for that to happen,
my dick trembling, I drifted off to sleep, and had a strange dream: Tyshawn
and I were playing one-on-one on the basketball court.  I had a huge
erection that busted its way out of my shorts.

"Hey little brother, that's a pretty big dick!" Tyshawn said.  He grabbed
it in his hand, making me shake all over.

"Brothers can fuck!" I said.

Tyshawn gave me a wink, and then, bending down in front of my dick, he--

Suddenly I was wide awake.  The moon was shining in the window.  But I was
paralyzed.  I couldn't move.  But I did feel something wet on my rockhard
dick.  Could it be?  There was a brief moment of suction and the sensation
disappeared.

"What does it taste like?"

That was Sid's voice!  Or Frankie's, I couldn't tell them apart.

"Nice.  Sweeter than his brother's."  That was the other twin.  "Wanna
try?"

"Are you sure he's asleep?"

"Yeah, he's really out of it.  But his dick is wide awake!"

I felt my dick being twanged --held down and then released.

"Let me at it," said the other twin.  "Man, you know how much I like
chocolate!"

"You're goofy!" said the other twin.  A moment later, I felt the wet warm
sensation again.  It felt amazing.  I heard a deep moan coming from
somewhere, and was surprised to recognize my own voice.

"Careful," warned a twin.  The only answer from his brother was a soft
gagging sound.  Although I couldn't move my head, I could see the scene
vividly in my mind, the twins, carbon-copy white boys, hunched around my
erect black rod, one wrapping his sweet mouth around it, the other
frantically pulling on his own penis.

At the same time, the sensation I felt was getting stronger and stronger.
It built up to the point where I was in agony.  If only I could move!  If
only I wasn't paralyzed!  But it was too late.  Any spasms in my body were
strictly out of my control, until finally, my helpless body came in a
gusher.

"Ahhhh!" I yelled, sitting bolt upright.  But when I reached down to grab
at the twin's head, there was no one there.  The moon was low on the
horizon, and everyone was asleep.  Puzzled, I felt for the telltale swampy
spot that follows a wet dream, but the sheets were clean and dry.  Had it
all been a dream?  Or had it happened for real?  Had I shot my load down
the throat of one of the country twins?  It couldn't have happened... could
it?  But I knew, I knew I had had a orgasm.  Where had all the cum gone?

Beside me, Randy stirred and moaned, and I drifted back into a deep and
dreamless sleep.

(TO BE CONTINUED)

-----------------------

Hey everyone, hope you enjoy this.  There will be at least one more chapter
which should be even hotter.

This was inspired by the stories "my brothers love" and "River Fun" by
"Donny"

If you like my writing, please check out my greatest hits:

bisexual/highschool/day-of-the-boner
gay/college/too-hot-to-sleep
gay/college/shy-guy-at-college-sauna
gay/encounters/bj-at-champs