Date: Thu, 26 Aug 1999 18:56:09 -0500
From: unicorn@fgi.net
Subject: Farm Hand 3

  Disclaimer: The usual, ya know.  No children, animals, wetlands, or
rain forests were harmed in the writing and publication of this
story.    In fact none of the above even know it exists since they can't
come here, and the effect on Global Warming was so small as to be
undetectable.  This may or may not be total fiction, just depends on
what you want it to be.  Should anyone read this and wish to comment on
it I'll look forward to anything but SPAM.  Boeuf Wellington is more my
style.  And of course I'll respond to any e-mail to
			      unicorn@fgi.net

				   * * *

			       Farm Hand - 3

	Time passes.  I was growing up. Sam was too.  He just got better and
better looking.  Man, I thought he was a stud.  It seems that most any
job I was given to do was boring as hell to me but if Sam and I were
doing it the time would pass so quickly that before I knew it, we would
be finished.  When we were building fence, for instance - and we did
that a lot during the summer - he would be wearin' heavy shoes, Levis
(maaaan! that gorgeous butt), a baseball cap and gloves. I could have
happily just stood there watchin' him, rather just lookin' at him, with
his young muscles straining at his work.  To me, he was absolutely
perfect. He wasn't one of those shaved-slick, overmuscled gym rats, he
was just a beautiful natural guy with his wide shoulders, narrow hips
and waist, great thighs and calves, arms and pecs.  Of course, good
genes make a big difference but he got that fine tuning from sports and
just working hard on the farm.

	From the front his biceps and triceps and forearms just set off his
perfect pecs. He was beginning to get some very nice hair around his
nips and down his sternum to his belly button (that to me, at least, was
just a pucker begging to be kissed) and which disappeared into those
Levis that 'just' fit him.  They weren't so tight he couldn't
comfortably work, wearin' 'em but they hugged his gluteus maximus in the
rear and had room for a nice-appearing package in the front.  And that
package got more and more interesting.  You know; sometimes a hint of
what is hidden is a lot more erotic than something out in the open where
you can see all of it and it leaves nothing to the imagination.  He wore
jockeys with his Levis since he said they were more comfortable when you
were workin'.  And that was before boxers became every little boy's idea
of studly clothes.  So, seeing that happy trail of healthy, glistening
pubic hair disappearing down those pants was very enticing indeed.

	Of course, I knew where that 'happy trail' ended since I had seen it
hundreds of times from the time he was about 13 and he had about three
hairs and I didn't have any yet to where it was now; the perfect hirsute
adornment of a perfect young man.

	From the rear there were his broad shoulders with the striations of his
latissimus dorsi and down to his gluteus maximus.  And with two dimples
at the top of his ass crack just before his ass turns into buns. Rather,
melon halves.  Each one looked like it was just about a double handful
if you had been fortunate enough to get your hands on either side and if
you spread your fingers out.

	On this day in July when we were building fence I knew that we would
get to hit the creek and our fave swimmin' hole late in the afternoon
when we finished the fence and got our chores done.  I could hardly
wait.  I'd get to have a swim in that wonderful, cold, clean water,
nekkid of course, and I'd get to see Sam nekkid too.  We'd throw off our
clothes at the house, and wearin' only our underwear, jump in the old
pickup and head for the creek, strip the rest of the way off and
cannonball into the water, jaybird nekkid as I said.  I was sure I'd
have a boner by the time I got my pants off at the house, let alone
before I stripped at the creek.  Sam was used to seein' me with my
perpetual hardon so he didn't tease me about it every time it popped
up.  I think he knew what was causin't it!  Sam had more self control,
though I could always tell when he had about a half hardon, or sumtin'
interesting had gonethrough his mind.  ;-)

	This particular day was a Friday.  My folks were planning on going to
one of my dad's sisters and spending a couple of days and nights.  That
meant that Sam and I would have the whole place to ourselves. I had
talked my folks into letting me stay since there weren't any cousins my
age at this particular aunt's house.  And, I could help Sam with whatfew
chores there were and we could play or whatever, the rest of the time.
The folks had even said we didn't have to go to church on Sunday.  I was
really looking forward to finishing the fence, gettin' the chores done
and then GETTIN'ON WITH it!, whater 'IT' might turn out to be. Of course
in my fantasy mind there were so many scenarios rollin' around that I
was almost lightheaded with anticipation.

	We finished with the fence, put the tools away and did our few chores.
There weren't many to do.  The hogs and our 4-H animals had feed in
their feeders, we only milked one cow which didn't take long, the water
tank was full for the rest of the animals and that was about it since
the beef cattle and horses were out to pasture.

	By the time we got everything done my folks had left, so we flung off
our clothes, threw them in the laundry room and hit the old truck for
the creek, almost skidded to a stop, flung off our drawrs and "last one
in is a rotten egg" of course.  If it had been "last one in has to bite
the other's guys butt" I would have dawdled along to make sure I would
be the 'biter.'  As you already know, Sam's butt was bite materiel.

	There was a great pool in the creek there at that spot.  Water running
off a strata of solid limestone had hollowed it out in the creekbed over
eons of time.  There was a solid ledge of rock on the upstream side and
it went all the way across the creek and almost straight down.  The
water there was nearly ten feet deep and we knew there weren't any sharp
rocks or anything on the bottom because that had been our farm's
swimmin' hole for more than a hundred years.  My great-grandfather swam
there when he was a boy. I had sometimes wondered if he and his buddies
used to pull their puds and give each other a helpin' hand when THEY
were boys and came down there for a swim and an afternoon of fun.  They
probably did.  Boys have quite naturally been doin' THAT ever since
there have been boys!

	When we left the house we had grabbed a couple of towels, a bottle of
shampoo and a bar of Ivory soap since it floats.  After a few dives and
laps we went to the shallow, downstream end of the pool where the gravel
and sandbar was for a bath.  I had purposely only brought one bar of
soap so we would have to share it.  I KNEW I'd get to 'do' Sam's back at
least, and I could only hope for more.

	  We both had tans nearly all over with just a white strip across our
middle since we wore shorts most of the time when we were working around
the farm.  Sometimes we wore long pants if we had to work in the brush
or weeds.  That white band in the middle was a LOT more nekkid lookin;
than an over-all tan.  Sam's red-gold bush and my blond cummin'-along
pubes showed up in a very sensuous way.

	I threw Sam the soap and he began to lather himself up.  I started with
the shampoo since I could get the suds all over my head, hair, and face
and could squint out of all that mess and just look at Sam washin'
himself.  He always started the same way.  He'd take the soap in his
right hand, lather up his left arm, then his chest down to his belly
button, then the right arm, then his left pit, then his right pit, then
his face, neck and ears.  And then on down to the 'good' stuff!  ;-)
He'd swirl the soap around his belly and down to his cock and balls.
He'd drop the soap, take his dick in his left hand, skin back his
foreskin, and holding his dick with two fingers of his right hand, take
his thumb and carefully wash the glans and all around and behind it an
the 'skin that had covered it.  I KNEW it was clean enough to 'eat' and
I knew that that was exactly what I wanted to do to it. Now, keep in
mind that I had never done anything like that nor had any of my other
buddies as far as I knew, because it just wasn't done.  That would have
immediately branded us as "queer"!  Just givin' a bud a helpin' hand was
no big deal.  In fact it was the obvious thing to do.  "-)  We knew from
first grade on that another guys hand felt a helluva lot better on your
dick than your own hand

	Then, he'd wash his balls thoroughly and wash down between his legs and
give his beautiful ass (with it's delicious pattern of red-gold hair) a
thorough cleaning, and down both legs.  And now comes the good part.  He
couldn't reach his back and he'd say, "You wanta do my back? and I, not
wantin' to appear TOO eager would say, "Huh?" and he'd say, "Ya wanta
wash my back?  I can't each it," and I'd say, "Sure.  You gonna do
mine?" and he'd say, "Sure, jus' bring the scrawny thang overhere!" and
I'd make a roaring charge thru the water at him and he'd let knock him
down and we'd wrestle around a bit.

	I could feel his big mostly soft dick floppin' around and I tried to
get in every position I could so it would flop on me.  Course, I had my
usual hardon and he'd tweak it and say, "Hmm...what's THIS? How'd of
your fingers get all the way down HERE?"  and he'd laugh uproariously.
I'd pretend tobe greatly offended and charge him again.

	Then, we'd stand up, he'd brace his hands against his thighs and I'd
start washin' his back.  Of course I could've done it in about two
minutes but I alwasy took my time, starting with his neck and shoulders,
then his lats and up and down his spine all the way down to his glutes.
I'd rub and massage every muscle I could find and wish there were more
to work on.  He'd groan and make happy sounds and dsay,"...a little more
to the right...down a bist..."  Then, he'd say, "Man, that was GREAT!"

	Then it would be MY turn.  I'd hand him the soap and turn my back to
him, he'd grab me and fling me down under the water and I'd come up
spittin' and he'd say, "Uh..just had ta rinse ya off a little" and roar
with laughter, and pick me up and put his arm around my chest, and start
rubbin' the soap across my back.  I'd stagger around like he was really
pushin' on me and he'd say, "Stand up!  Ain't you got any bones in your
body?" and then he would really wash my back AND the rest of me.  He'd
just flip past my hardon and I could begin to feel his gettin' a bone in
it.