Date: Sun, 17 Jun 2007 15:38:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: SauronTheDarkLord <SauronTheDarkLord@gay.com>
Subject: Beginnings V

Thanks to Jim P. for the kind words and encouragement.  Another chapter in
my sordid youth follows.

After getting it on with Terry on the banks of the mighty
Illinois-Mississippi Canal, probably before I had fully digested his cum, I
started thinking about Vic, the younger boy who had "seduced" him earlier.

Now "seducing" most boys is not exactly rocket surgery or brain science.
Usually it's "see dick, grab dick", if it's even that complicated.  But as
I have mentioned in previous stories, growing up in a homophobic small town
(just an objective description, not a rip on small town) dictated a degree
of caution.

Further, as I have also mentioned, I had a terrible rate of success (or a
terrific rate of failure) when I tried to take the initiative, and so was
even more wary in that regard.  So as confident as I was that if I got the
chance I could get some action with Vic, I was stuck on how to make the
approach.

Vic lived in the country, I lived in town.  At 14, I didn't drive, and at
11 or 12 or whatever Vic was neither did he.  So even getting to the same
location was going to be a problem, let alone getting his clothes off, dick
out, and all the rest.

But into each life a little luck must fall, and I got mine sooner than
expected.

I was at home watching one of our three television channels, wasting an
otherwise excellent summer evening in coach potato mode, when the phone
rang.

It was Terry, which immediately caused some change in my circulation.
Maybe another motorcycle ride, hell, maybe another Terry ride.

It was neither.  Terry and a friend of his had been going to work the next
day for Vic's dad on the farm, and his friend had broken a finger that
evening playing baseball.

Now some kinds of work you can just buddy tape the finger and go, if the
break isn't too bad.  It's the medical equivalent of rubbing dirt in an
open wound, but hey, it was the 60's.

What Terry had lined up though was not going to allow for any physical
infirmity.

Nowadays when you see hay laying out in the field it is frequently in giant
rolls that resemble some sort of huge, green, breakfast pastry.  Back then,
we baled.


The farmers would put a rack (ah, now the light is going on, as in hay rack
rides, etc.) behind the baler and as the bales were spit out they had to be
stacked on the rack.

Because of the speed with which the bales were spit out of the baler,
working the rack was a two person job.  Each guy had a hook that they would
sink in the bale, drag it to the back of the rack, and then throw the bale
on top of the stack.


I have no idea how I could ever have been in good enough shape to do this.
Those damn bales weighed 50 to 60 pounds and we were stacking them 8 feet
high all damn day.  Then after we got the rack loaded (when we got down to
the last row one of the guys would jump off so as not to get hit with a
bale or stuck with a hook) we would then unload the rack in the barn.

Working the mow (rhymes with cow) was, if anything, worse.  It is summer,
July in this case if I recall, you are in the very top of a barn, and every
time one of the bales comes off the conveyor it falls on top of all the
other bales maintaining a cloud of dust that made sure that contact lens
wearers need not apply.

Faced with the opportunity of that much fun, and getting $2 an hour to
boot, how could I have said no?

But I didn't even know the best part yet.

"Hey, by the way," added Terry, "bring a change of clothes."

"Why?"

"Cuz you know how damn filthy you get in the mow, Vic's dad has hooked up a
shower in one of the machine sheds so we can get the dirt off us before we
go home.  It won't make any sense to take a shower and then put the same
clothes back on again."

By this time none of you should be guessing at some of the thoughts that
went through my head.  But just a hint, none of them pertained to farm
work.

"O.K., cool.  What time we have to be there?"

"7:30."

That might seem late for farm work, but the hay needed to dry out before
you baled it.

"Fine.  I can have my dad drop me off."

So bright and early the next morning I got dropped off at Vic's family's
farm, my change of clothes in a Piggly Wiggly shopping bag.

It was then I got my second "bonus" in the last 12 hours.  Vic would be
driving the tractor.  His dad had to take some hogs to market and would be
gone most of the day.

We got right to work.  Central Illinois weather being what it was (and this
was a long time before you could go to the internet and look at radar) when
the hay was ready to be put up you had better do it, because if it got
rained on you may have to rerake or let it dry, and it would cost you days.

Like a lot of hard, repetitious work, it soon started to take on a sort of
rhythm.  Walk to the front of the rack, sink the hook in, drag it to the
back and throw it on the stack.  Because the bales are constantly coming
out of the baler there is no time for talk.  (There is another method which
involves baling first and coming by with a rack later, but I think you're
here for sex, not AG101).



It was only between racks, when both the workers would climb on top of the
load of bales for the ride to the barn, or when you rode the empty rack
back out to the field, that there was any chance to talk.

As Terry and I rode back to the barn with the first load I thanked him for
giving me the call the previous evening.  I would probably gross $20 for
the day, and net $20.  (Payroll taxes, withholding, are you kidding?).

"No problem," Terry said.  "But if you want to thank me, I can think of a
way."

His smile wasn't necessary, because I was thinking along the same lines.
As we rode back, I reached over and softly squeezed the area of his jeans
that I believe held his cock.

I was right.  As I squeezed, I could feel him start to get hard.  Of course
one of the hazards of getting a hard on in tight jeans is that the
hardening member can find itself fighting a losing battle against the
denim.  That was the case with Terry.

"Shit, man, it's breaking in two."

He took one of his gloves off and reached into his pants to get matters
straightened out (groan).  Once his dick was arranged more to his
satisfaction, I resumed groping him.

"That's nice," he said.  "But I sort of had something else in mind."

"Me, too.  But I think maybe not exactly here.  I'm just being a tease."

"Well," he replied, "you know what happens to teases."

Apparently what happens to teases is that someone else starts to
reciprocate when the crotch grabbing begins, because we continued our
touchy-feely party almost all the way to the barn.

Vic pulled the rack up next to the conveyor that would carry the bales to
the mow.  Because the conveyor was angled sharply, you could load the bales
from a variety of positions on the rack with the minimum amount of
lifting. Because of the work involved, it was understood that Terry and I
would switch off between unloading the rack and working in the mow.  I was
first into the barn.

Because you have more room to work with, you don't have to be as precise in
the mow as on the rack.  The big challenge is trying to keep up with the
stream of bales, which is impossible.  The idea is not to get too far
behind, and not to get hit by a bale coming off the conveyor.  If you could
survive and not get buried (literally was as much a possibility as
figuratively) whoever was unloading the rack would come up and help you
finish.

After the first load was done, Terry and I rode, chauffered by Vic, back
out to the field.  If you are on an empty rack, you do not sit.  We stood
at the back of the rack holding on for dear life as Vic tried to negotiate
the trip without damaging any of the equipment, or the day's hired help.



About 10:30 we finished getting our second load into the barn, and it was
time for a break.  One of the things you apparently learn as a farmer's
wife is to make lemonade in industrial quantities, because a crew of any
size on a hot day seems to need it by the gallon.  Vic went into the house
and brought out a large thermos and some paper cups.

As Terry and I guzzled the lemonade – screw the brain freeze, just hydrate
me – I took a careful look at Vic.  He was by far the smallest of us, not
surprising given the difference in ages.  I was 6'2", Terry just under
6'0".  Vic was maybe 5'3".  He was blonde, slender, and looked just a
little younger than his 12 years (Terry told me his age).

Knowing that he had already had experience with Terry, I was attempting to
figure out how to break the ice with him, so to speak.  I made some
attempts to draw him into conversation, with limited success.  I think my
objective was obvious to Terry, who seemed to be enjoying my predicament.

There was time to do one more rack before lunch, and I was so frustrated
that I felt like trying to pitch the bales from the field to the barn.
Every time I looked at Terry it seemed like he was smiling at my
aggravation.  Finally, last load before lunch was done.

"I'm gonna go in the house and get my lunch," Vic informed us.  "I'll see
you in about half an hour."  30 minutes was standard.

As he went into the house, Terry asked me what he already knew, "so, you
want some of that, too?"

"As if you didn't know," I replied.

"I have an idea for later," he said.

"I appreciate it.  And I also have an idea for now.  Stand up."

Terry and I taken our lunches to an old picnic table out by the barn, and
out of sight of the house.  As he stood up, I unzipped his jeans, pulled
down his brief, and took out his cock.

It was just what I remembered from our trip to the canal, and what I had
been jerking off thinking about since.  5 inches, cut, and decently thick.
Cream-filled tube steak, nature's perfect food.

"Looks like he missed me," I said before I stared to work.

"Uh-huh," Terry answered.

I took plenty of time taking his dick in my mouth.  I started sucking just
a little at a time, then a little more.  After putting an inch or so in my
mouth, I would slowly draw back, putting as much pressure as I could on the
underside, without biting off a piece.

Each time I would take a little more.  His cock was absolutely delicious
under any circumstances, and having had to wait for it made it even better.
I was in one of those strange zones where I wanted to draw it out forever,
but I wanted his cum immediately.


So I guess we compromised at a little over 5 minutes.  I then had time to
wash his come down with a couple of salami and cheese sandwiches and some
leftover lemonade.

Vic came back out pretty much on schedule and we resumed the work.  Two
more loads, then a break, and then one last load in the barn and we were
done for the day.

"I'll go in the house and get your money, guys'" Vic announced, and headed
in to get the two $20 bills his dad had left.

"So what's your idea?" I asked Terry.  "Now would be a good time to share."

Terry laughed.  "He's a little exhibitionist, like I told you.  He won't
miss a chance to show us his "taddywagger", and he'll like ours, too, and
maybe a little more."

"I remember," I answered, "but...""

"Did you remember shower, too?"

Of course I had, but with Terry's help the fantasy now had a chance of
being realized.  Vic came back and gave us each a twenty, for which we
expressed appropriate gratitude.

"Hey, Vic" Terry asked.  "Does that shower in the machine shed still work?
We were thinking of rinsing off and changing before we went back home."

"I think so," Vic answered,"but we can still check it out."

Had it been anyone but Vic I would have questioned the notion that we
needed supervision to turn on a faucet, but I was growing wise to the game
now.


We got to the shed and saw where they had rigged up some sheet metal to
create a shower stall, with a couple of exposed shower heads.  Although I
don't consider myself immune to rugged circumstances, I couldn't help to
notice the lack of a hot water heater.

"Vic, you guys run hot water all the way from the house?"

"No.  This is just for rinsing off."

"Yeah," added Terry, "you got just a little time before it really gets
cold."

"Well, what are we going to do, flip a coin or something?"

"For what?"

"To see who goes first, before it gets too cold."

"There is no first,"Terry answered. "Everybody has to jump in at once."

"Is that right, Vic?" I asked, to see if he remained capable of speech.



"Yeah, you gotta go and you gotta go fast."

Thinking on my feet by now, I offered a suggestion.

"Well that means we need to get undressed before you even turn the water on
them, if we need to jump right in.  Does that make sense, Terry?"

Terry was smiling again.  "That has been my experience," he agreed.

Terry and I both sat down on a nearby bench, and started to remove our
boots.  Work boots, with about a mile of laces on each one.  After the
boots came the socks, and then the shirts.

We both got to the good part about the same time.  We each undid our belts
and pulled our jeans and briefs off at the same time, pulling them down
just a little more slowly for Vic's benefit.

Finally Terry and I were nude, and facing Vic.  His gaze was squarely on
our waists, well, maybe a bit lower.

"Wow," he said, "you both have hair down there."

"Well you do, too, right?"

"Not really," he answered.

"Well why don't you show us?  No sense in you being the only one in here
with clothes on."

"Well, I'm not taking a shower," he said.

"How come?"

"Cuz I'm not as dirty as you guys, no offense or anything."

"Well, if you're not as dirty, you'll have a chance of getting finished
before the water turns cold."

"Come on, Vic," said Terry, "it'll be fun."

"Fun?" asked Vic.  Then he looked at Terry, who smiled back.  As Terry
smiled, his dick started to harden, and he quickly went from half staff to
4th of July parade.

Vic looked over at me.  I was pointing up at about a 70 degree angle (those
were the days).

Whatever uncertainty Vic had felt seemed to vanish.  He crossed the room to
the bench in what seemed to be a fraction of a second (nanoseconds not yet
having been invented) and almost tore his clothes off.

I think you would have to describe Vic nude as a walking wet dream.  Blond
hair, blue eyes, fair skin, and a cut dick that was maybe 4 inches long
that could scratch a diamond.  And yes, some wisps of pubic hair.




I walked up beside Vic, making sure my hardon made contact with him.

"Can I touch it?" I asked.

Vic nodded.

I took the area just about the head between my thumb and forefinger and
slowly and gently squeezed.  I then added another finger to the mix and
started jerking him off.  With my other hand, I took his hand and placed it
on my cock.

He was somewhat tentative at first, maybe kind of losing track of what was
going on.  Then he started to get a little firmer and aggressive, jerking
me off like he meant it.

Terry had crossed the room and stood on the other side of him.  Vic needed
no further hints, and started working Terry with his remaining free hand.
Terry, Vic's cock already having been taken, reached behind Vic, petting –
for lack of a better term – his balls, and drawing his finger from the
scrotum all the way up through Vic's ass crack.

In a word, this was getting good.

All of a sudden, Terry broke off the activity, but only briefly.  He
grabbed a couple towels and laid them on the floor.  Laying on his back, he
took one, and I the other.

Now Vic knelt between us, doing Terry and I simultaneously, our hands
temporarily unable to reach his dick.

For someone with his lack of years (I couldn't speak to his experience,
other than it might be more extensive than one might have thought) he was
good.  I shot first, then looked over as Terry exploded.

The end of the perfect work day.  Laying there naked with two other guys,
covered with my own cum.

But not quite the end of the play day.  Vic, having no reason to have lost
interest, was still ready for some individual action.

"Vic, lay down" I instructed.

"What you gonna do?" he asked.

"What you want me to do," I answered.

He was a little uncertain, and looked over to Terry.

"It's o.k. Vic, just tell us what you want."

He remained quiet a little longer, and then his answer was barely audible.

"Could you suck me?"

Does the Pope shit in the woods?

"What do you say, Terry?  I think he's earned it."

I remember that Terry was reluctant to suck my cock when we were at the
canal, so I figured maybe we could break the ice in more ways than one.

Terry didn't say anything, but when I moved down to where my head was just
a little south of Vic's navel, Terry joined me.

Did I mention how hot Vic's dick was?  I was almost shaking when I put it
in my mouth.  It was much smaller than what I had for lunch, and almost
fragile in comparison.  I felt like it was going to melt in my mouth.

Again, it was too much for me to deep throat, and as I worked his dick as
far as I could from one end (nearly) to the other I cursed my gag reflex
again.

I wanted Terry to take a turn, for a variety of reasons.  "Try it, you'll
like it" I said.  That being the punch line for a popular commercial at
that time.  "I'll make it worth your while."

Terry wasn't sure what I meant by that – nor was I sure when I said it –
but it provided the motivation for a high school jock to start sucking on a
middle schooler who could probably get his lunch money stolen by the chess
team.

As Terry tried what I believe was his first tube steak tartare, I put my
head between his legs and went back to work.  Although he had just recently
shot, it didn't – oh the joys of youth – keep him from starting to get hard
again.

While Terry didn't take to cocksucking with immediate gusto, he did make a
credible effort.  I felt that was enough to ask first time out.

"My turn again," I said, noticing that Terry took one or two extra slurps
before he relinquished Vic's cock.

This time when I took Vic I was over him in the 69 position, at least it
had a chance to be the 69 position.

As I took his dick back in my mouth I could feel his hand on my cock, then
a wonderful sense of warm, wet envelopment as he started sucking me.

At this point I was basically sex crazed.  I was sixty-nining with
scorching hot barely pubescent blond under the observation of another
partner whose cum was still digesting along with my salami sandwich as he
beat off while watching Vic and I.

I assume sex crazed because that would be the only thing that would have
accounted for what I did next.

I looked up, still keeping Vic's dick in my mouth, looked at Terry, and
pointed to my ass.  In the event there was any confusion, I wiped some of
the cum off my chest and onto the crack of my ass for lube.

"You sure?" he asked.

I nodded my head.

Picking up on the hint, Terry wiped as much of his cum onto his dick as he
could.

"Relax, self" I said.

Terry was a little tentative, due to inexperience, the nature of the act,
or that it wasn't as easy to stick it in my ass as my mouth, whatever.  But
finally he found the spot and pushed.

Most of us know the feeling.  First time in, a little panic maybe, if not
actual pain then at least some heavy duty stretching and pulling, and then
that wonderfully full feeling that makes it worth while.

It seemed to be worthwhile for Terry, too.  I didn't know if he had another
load ready yet, but that really didn't matter.  I was pretty sure that I
didn't have anything for Vic, but liked the idea of getting reciprocated
while I sucked him.

Finally Vic was ready.  Sadist (no, not really) that I was I kept my mouth
on him as long as I could working him past orgasm until the sensation
becomes almost painful.

I took his dick out of my mouth, and pulled mine from his.  Terry got the
hint and pulled out of my ass.  Neither one of us had been able to get a
second load off so soon, hardon or not.

"Nice work, Vic" I complimented him.  Finally, he made some degree of eye
contact with me and smiled, albeit nervously.

"You're welcome," he replied.  "And thank you, too."

"You're welcome, too."

By this time we were faced with potential issues of parents returning home,
rides arriving, and probably several other scenarios which would not have
been optimal if three cum covered boys were found together.  Terry and I
quickly jumped in the shower and rinsed off as best we could, the shower
for a few brief minutes being warmer and more effective than when we had to
use the canal.  I put my dirty clothes in my Piggly Wiggly bag and we
waited for our rides.

Terry got picked up first, not having a vehicle to himself that day.  Vic
and I waited together for my mom to pick me up. We were kind of quiet, but
sometimes there isn't a need to say much.

Finally we saw my mom's car turn in at the head of the lane.

"Thanks again", Vic said, "for, you know.."

"You're welcome again.  Any time."

"You mean that?"

"Definitely."

"Wow."

"Wow for sure," I replied.

And with that I jumped in the car with my mom getting ready for the "how
was your day, son?" on the trip home.  I thought it would be wise to limit
disclosure.

"Oh, just fine, Mom."