Date: Thu, 09 Jun 2011 00:39:31 -0700
From: h.schreiber@hushmail.com
Subject: Chapter 21 of Just Like Scott by Hans Schreiber

Warning! This story is a work of fiction written by a legal age adult. Any
similarity between the fictional characters and any live persons is purely
coincidental. This story contains fictional descriptions of sexual activity
between consenting minor youth. If you are under the age of 18, and/or if
you are offended by this content, and/or if it is illegal in your
jurisdiction to possess or read such material, please leave now and do not
read this story as neither the internet host nor the author can be
responsible for your actions. Please, always practice safe sex; no
momentary thrill is worth your life.

This work is copyrighted (c) by Hans Schreiber. You may not reproduce this
story in whole or in part without the express written consent of Hans
Schreiber at h.schreiber@hushmail.com.

Just Like Scott

Chapter 21

Water Music

Authors Note: As a suggestion, while reading this chapter, search YouTube
for Handel's Wassermusik and let it play in the background while you read
for an enhanced experience.

	Scott woke up Tuesday morning to the alarm playing some
unidentifiable rock song. He pushed Sammy's body, which was half draped
across his own, off of him and got up. He meandered into the bathroom and
lifted the lid with his toes. Fumbling, he managed his dick out of his
boxer's fly and an immediate and urgent stream of piss flowed from the
tip. The gradual relief to the draining bladder was welcome.

	His free hand rubbed the sleep from his eyes and he was just
shaking off when Tom stumbled in. "Oh, sorry," he said noticing Scott's
presence.

	"It's okay, I'm done." Scott tucked himself in and washed his hands
while Tom took his place at the toilet. Tom's stream was equally strong and
darkened the lighter, yellow offering Scott had left behind in the bowl.

	"Man, this is way too early to be getting up in the summer. This is
worse than Camp Challenge," Scott said as he peeked over at Tom's dick.

	"Really, but I'm glad to have the job," responded Tom.

	"Yeah, I guess. Are we riding bikes over?"

	"I guess we have to. I don't have any wheels," Tom said.

      They separated and dressed and met downstairs. When Tom walked into
the kitchen carrying his suitcase, it made Scott sad to realize Tom was
moving in at the farm. He felt the urge to warn him about Mr. Jenkins and
recounted the whole creepy experience in the farmhouse. Tom listened
intently, asking questions along the way to be sure Scott wasn't
embellishing the story. They ate their cereal while they chatted and when
Scott finished, Tom said, "Thanks for the warning. I doubt he'll bother me,
though, since I'm older. He's probably just overcome by your boyish beauty,
and I can hardly blame him." Tom gave a seductive wink.

      They pulled the bikes from the side yard and rode side by side to
Mr. Jenkins' farm. Scott kept stealing glances at Tom and each time he did
so, his melancholy grew. It was an odd emotional experience to have
physically found and sexually lost Tom so suddenly. He was close to him
again and yet kept at bay by Tom's stupid promise. Scott wondered how he
could see him every day and not do anything together for such a long
time. The idea of it was driving him crazy. Scott thought about the night
in bed and knew Tom was serious about what he had said. He just didn't know
how to deal with it. He sighed in reluctant acceptance of his fate and
rubbed his stinging eyes with the sleeves of his t-shirt, one side at a
time.

      Mr. Jenkins was up and working on a big piece of machinery when they
arrived. He showed Tom which bunkhouse was his and then the two of them
piled into the cab of the old truck. Mr. Jenkins grabbed a fistful of
scrotum as he forced the shifter into reverse and beeped the horn. Two
young Hispanic guys came out of the other bunkhouses and jumped in the bed
of the truck. They drove off to Tom's first assignment, leaving Scott alone
in their dust. Scott grabbed the shovel, pulled on a pair of rubber boots
and pedaled off on his bike to do the first round of irrigating. When he
pulled the canvas foreskin back on the first irrigation tube and started
priming the tip, his mind wandered to Tom and he imagined making love with
him again. He pinched his ass cheeks together and imagined Tom's hard dick
up inside him, rubbing that special spot. He could almost feel Tom's soft
lips against his own as he lost himself in his fantasy.

      By the time he finished the first round of irrigating, he was wide
awake and extremely horny. The ride back to the farmhouse was long and
uncomfortable, juggling a shovel across the handlebars and with the
discomfort of a raging boner against the hard bicycle seat. Scott stashed
the shovel back in the shed and as he was about to leave, he saw through
the crack in the shed door as Mr. Jenkins came out of one of the
bunkhouses. He had an odd, satisfied look on his face and was tucking his
blue, plaid, western style shirt back into his open trousers. He zipped up
and set his big, silver buckle in place and then headed into the farm
house.

      Scott watched until he disappeared into the house and walked around
the back of the shed and along the fence line. He crept along the back wall
of the small, one room bunkhouse and cautiously peered into the window. The
sight took him by surprise. There on the bed was one of the two young
Hispanic guys, completely naked on the bed, lying on his back with his
knees pulled up and spread. His body, hairless except for a thick, black,
patch of pubes around his limp, four inch dick, was glistening with
sweat. Scott watched in awe as the young man counted a fistful of
twenty's. The naked guy set the money aside and grabbed his boxers off the
floor and wiped at his crack, holding them up and inspecting the amount of
spooge collected before tossing them back onto the floor. As the young man
spun around to stand up, Scott quickly ducked, slipped backward, and dashed
behind the shed.

      Scott scampered across the yard over to the barn. He walked in
through the side door and pulled it firmly closed behind him. His heart was
racing as he shoved his pants and boxers down and sat on a straw bale. The
idea of doing it there was scary and exciting but he was desperately in
need of busting a nut as he imagined what had just occurred in the
bunkhouse. The straw was scratchy and uncomfortable on his bare ass, but he
ignored it.

      He grabbed his dick in a firm grip and started jacking at full
speed. The goal was to cum quickly and unload his aching balls. He was
panting and lightly squeezing his balls with his free hand while working
himself up to a good quickie. He was stroking it so fast and furiously that
his right bicep began to cramp up, but he continued his pace, ignoring the
complaining arm muscle. His eyes were clamped shut and his face was
contorted and tense. Suddenly, he was startled by a change in the intensity
of light inside the barn. He sensed the change in light through his closed
eyelids. He jerked his head up and forced his eyes open to see Mr. Jenkins
standing in the open doorway. He stopped mid-stroke and stared in horror at
the startled old farmer.

      A wide smile crept over Mr. Jenkins' face replacing the initial
confusion that had initially been there. "Well, lookee thar. Ya need a lil'
help with that?"

      "Oh shit. No. Uhh ... I'm sorry. I was just ... uhh, shit." Scott
began clawing at his boxers and then his pants as he stood and pulled
himself back together.

      Mr. Jenkins laughed out loud. "Ahh hell, don't apologize. Used this
spot my own self a time or two. Ya can go ahead an' finish up if ya
want. Don't bother me none. In fact, I'll be glad ta help if ya'll let me!"

        "No, no," Scott said quivering, "I gotta go. Shit. Excuse me." He
pushed past Mr. Jenkins, who was pulling a lead rope off a nail in the
wall, and outside into the sunshine. He was so completely flushed, the
morning breeze felt cold on his hot face. He pedaled furiously home,
embarrassed and feeling guilty for doing it in Mr. Jenkins' barn. He felt
really awkward about giving Mr. Jenkins any encouragement into thinking he
might be willing to do stuff with him. He now fully understood what the
extra job entailed that the lonely old man was willing to pay for. Every
time he thought about it, he cringed.

      Once home, he stashed his bike and rushed upstairs and into his
room. The morning was still young as he returned from the early morning
irrigating and only his father had awakened and already left for
work. Scott shut his bedroom door and pulled his pants and boxers off,
desperate to finish what he had started. In two or three strokes, his dick
was fully engorged again and ready for action. He sat in his desk chair and
started furiously whipping his large erection.

      No sooner had he started than he spied Sammy in his bed leaning up on
one elbow and smiling at him. "Shit," Scott swore. "I forgot you were in
here. A guy can't get privacy anywhere." He stood and spun away from
Sammy's view, grabbed his boxers and pants, and moved toward the door.

      "Where you going?" asked Sammy.

      "To the bathroom where I can lock the door and have some privacy."

      "Why?"

      "Cuz I need to jack off bad and I want to do it in private. Why do
you think?" He said sharply in his frustration.

      "Why does it matter if I see you?"

      "I don't know, I'm just not in the mood to be watched right now."

      "But I watched when Nick did it to you at the meadow? Do you want me
to do it for you again? I will if you want." Sammy offered his services
sounding hopeful.

      "No, squirt. Last night was cool but I want some privacy right now,"
Scott said.

      "Oookaaaay. But I need to pee before you go do it, all right?"

      "Whatever."

      Sammy followed Scott to the bathroom and Scott leaned impatiently
against the counter, still sporting an erection while Sammy tried to
pee. The trouble was, Sammy had morning wood, made even harder from seeing
Scott jacking off, and he couldn't go pee. "Shit, Sammy; you gonna take all
day?"

      "I can't go. It won't come out cuz I got a boner, but I need to pee
real bad."

      "Well either jack it, so it will go down or get in the tub and pee on
the wall so you don't have to bend it down to hit the toilet," Scott
suggested.

      "Does that work?"

      "It does for me."

      "Okay." Sammy pushed his boxers off and climbed into the shower. He
peeked out of the shower door and with his best pleading look, said, "it
would go faster if you helped me rub it. Will you, Pleeeeeease?"

      "Geez, you're impossible. How come you always get your way?" Scott
pulled off his t-shirt and climbed in. He pulled a grinning Sammy to the
far end of the tub and pulled on the handle to start the water. He got a
warm flow going and pulled on the knob to switch it to the shower
head. Scott knelt in the tub in front of Sammy and pulled him up close. The
shower water sprayed across Scott's backside as he slipped Sammy's tender
little dick into his mouth. Scott sucked him in gently, tasting the
unwashed flesh and remnants of last night's activities.

      "Ummmm. That feels sooooo great" Sammy cooed.

      Scott peered up and smiled at Sammy, who was gripping Scott's head
with both hands and humping into his mouth. Scott quickened his pace and
Sammy shuddered, buckled at the knees slightly and Scott prepared himself
for the anticipated little squirt of boy juice.

      It didn't register fully in Scott's brain at first when instead of a
little squirt, a rushing stream sprayed from Sammy's dick filling his mouth
with a bitter, hot liquid. Suddenly, Scott jerked backward, spitting and
sputtering. Sammy's continuing flow sprayed over Scott's neck and chest,
until he could back away far enough out of range. "Shit, Sammy! What the
hell'd you do that for? Ack. Gross!" Scott began spitting and gagging and
turned to rinse his mouth out from the shower spray. Scott started rubbing
himself vigorously in the spray of the shower where Sammy's pee had
innocently sprayed him.

      "I'm, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It just came out. I didn't even
know it was going to." Sammy started to cry. His piss quit flowing, but his
tears continued. "Don't be mad at me, please."

      "Ahh, C'mon, don't cry. I'm sorry I yelled at you. It just freaked me
out. I'm sure you didn't mean to, but it was just so gross." Scott took
Sammy in his arms and hugged him close against his naked body until he
calmed down. When Sammy was calm, Scott pulled away and switched places
with Sammy then sat down in the tub and leaned against the angled back. "Do
mine now."

      Sammy sat in the tub between Scott's legs and took hold of his
brother's large dick. He sniffled and then cracked a smile as he began
pulling on the smooth slippery dick. The warm shower spray felt good on
Sammy's back and neck as he worked on getting Scott off. Scott silently
wished Sammy's dick was bigger and he could fill him up with it. The urge
for a dick up inside him was strong and compelling. He settled for the
second best option.

      "Sammy, will you suck it for me?" Scott asked.

      Sammy recoiled and he got a serious expression as he asked, "You're
gonna pee in my mouth to get even, huh?

      "NO! Shit Sammy, I wouldn't do that." Scott was genuinely offended.
"Never mind, forget it. Just jack me, but squeeze harder and go faster. Go
as fast as you can. I want it to go quick and forceful, and when you pull
the skin down, go all the way so it tugs on my dick head and makes me
really feel it. I need to cum so fucking much." Scott was sharp in his tone
and the "F" word was shocking to Sammy.

      Sammy twisted up his mouth and stared at his brother for a minute
trying to figure him out, then he leaned in and slipped his mouth over his
brother's large, mature phallus. Scott's first reaction was to not let him
suck it, after Sammy's insulting insinuation, but it felt too good. "Ohh,
ya," Scott moaned. "Suck it hard and fast, squirt. Pull the skin all the
way down like I told you and hold it there while you suck me. I'll warn you
before I cum, I promise."

      Sammy pulled the skin down stretching it tight and started bobbing
quickly up and down on the exposed head and shaft when the sound of their
mother's voice caused them to both freeze. Scott glanced over at the door
and it was unlocked. His stomach lurched. Sammy was frozen in place with
the tip of Scott's dick still in his mouth. Scott pulled him off and they
jumped up. Scott shut the water off and pushed Sammy out of the tub and
helped dry him off.

      "Scott, Sammy? Where are you boys?" Their hearts pounded as her voice
was growing closer. Scott wrapped a towel around Sammy's waist and said,
"Go out and tell her you just finished showering and I'm just getting in
the shower."

      When Sammy left, Scott locked the door behind him and leaned against
it. "Fuck," he muttered. "Shit! Damn! Hell! All I wanna do is just get my
rocks off. Why does it have to be so hard? Aarrgh!"

      Scott heard his mom telling Sammy to get dressed and go do his chores
before he had to go to swimming lessons. She asked why he bothered
showering before going outside to work and Sammy said he just didn't think
about it. She made some snide comment about that being too common of an
occurrence and as Scott was just starting the shower back up, she rapped on
the bathroom door.

      "Scott, you need to do some practicing on your trumpet. Remember you
have your first orchestra rehearsal on Thursday. So don't be in the shower
too long."

      "Yeah, okay."

      "You need to show them that you're dedicated, so you have to practice
the music they gave you."

      "I said okay!"

      "I know a lot has been going on, but you haven't practiced since we
got back from Boise."

      "Geez, mom, I said okay! Get off my fucking back and leave me alone!"

      Scott felt anger at himself for swearing at his mother, but there was
a sense of justification as well. Enough was enough. There was awkward
silence and Scott wondered what his mother thinking. He expected to get
yelled at, but nothing came. He thought about apologizing, but his pride
denied it.

      Finally, something way worse than his mother's wrath passed through
the locked door separating him and her. In a seriously sad tone, she simply
said, "I'm very disappointed in you right now."

      Scott sat back down and leaned against the angled back of the tub. He
slammed his head a couple times against the tile wall, giving himself a
proper headache. He took his now limp dick in his hand and stared at it
through his stinging eyes. To his amazement, it just lay there ignoring his
touch. Emotionally, he just didn't have it in him to jack it now. He'd
started and stopped so many times it drained his desire, in spite of his
nuts still being filled to capacity. The angry, frustrated exchange with
his mom was the capping bone crusher.

      He considered forcing the issue with his dick, but chose a path of
self pity instead. It wasn't his normal nature to wallow in pity, but he
allowed himself a healthy dose this morning as he lay there in the warm
spray of the shower feeling sorry for himself. Lying there, engulfed in the
darkness of his mood, a frightening thought struck him. He realized how
close he was to letting Sammy replace Tom as a sex partner to fulfill his
selfish needs for gratification. He wondered how far he would want to go
with Sammy if he didn't control it now. He started to realize his self
control over his sexual needs was far less than he wanted to admit. He
desperately wanted to be fucked and to fuck somebody back. The longing for
a dick back up inside him was strong and growing.

      He briefly considered how easy it would be to give in to Mr. Jenkins
to satisy his needs and as a bonus get some extra cash for it. He came to
his senses quickly though and shuddered at the thought. He just knew that
he couldn't go there with Sammy, and he knew he had to stop messing with
him so things wouldn't get out of control. He had no one left to play with,
like a lonely little kid without friends. "Why Tom? Why'd you have to go
and make that stupid promise?" As the water turned cool and then cold, he
shivered inside and out.

      Scott wandered back down the hall naked and into his room. He pulled
on some boxers and shorts and setup his music stand, pulled out his
trumpet, and launched himself into the music. At first, it was rote and
dull, but as he played, he lost himself in it. He transcended his miserable
situation and was filled with the power of the music. The piece he was
playing was an adapted arrangement of Handel's Wassermusik, which means
Water Music and the effect was enlightening.

      He heard in his mind's ear, the rushing stream next to the sex
meadow. He imagined himself sitting naked in the stream as the water poured
over the rocks and flowed on toward the reservoir. Scott imagined a small
droplet carried by the rush of the greater stream flowing by, bobbing and
bouncing over the rocks. Occasionally, the droplet would pause in a still
pool, only to swirl to the edge and back into the turmoil of the rapids. At
last, his droplet made its way into the massive reservoir where it rested
as one small part of a massive collection of droplets forming the body of
water - each droplet insignificant yet essential.

      Eventually, the droplet was pushed toward the spillway where it
followed its fellow droplets along the canal and into the irrigation ditch
at Jenkins' farm. There, it was siphoned into the rubber end of the
irrigation tube and at the other end, it pushed its way through the canvas
foreskin and was ejaculated into the furrow. It seeped into the dark rich
soil and was absorbed into the roots of the potato plant, helping it grow.

      Scott leaned sideways, opened his spit valve and drained it onto the
carpeted floor. He put the trumpet away after wiping it down with a soft
rag. Feeling immensely better, He pulled on a t-shirt and shoes and headed
back to the farm for the afternoon irrigation. He hadn't even taken time to
eat and before he was half way finished, his stomach was growling angrily
at him. He finished much more quickly now that he was practiced at the art
of irrigation ejaculation. He rode back to the barnyard, put the shovel
away and pulled off the rubber boots. He was almost out of the driveway
when he heard a horn honking. It was Mr. Jenkins with Tom and the other
farm hands in the bed of the truck. Scott waited for him to pull up
alongside.

      "Ya hungry? We're headin' over to get some grub. Wanna join us?"

      Scott almost turned the offer down, just to avoid the awkwardness of
it all, but his fifteen year old appetite shouted that idea down before it
could get from his brain to his mouth. "Sure, thanks."

      He stashed his bike and climbed into the truck's cab. Mr. Jenkins
asked about how the irrigating was going and Scott said fine. He
complimented Scott on the job he was doing and Scott thanked him. All the
conversation originated from Mr. Jenkins and Scott gave short
non-descriptive answers until Mr. Jenkins gave up and slipped into
uncomfortable silence.

      Finally, Mr. Jenkins looked over at him and said, "No need to be
embarrassed, Scott. It's quite normal for a boy yer age to be doin' whatcha
was doin'. Let's just pretend I never saw nuthin."

      Scott looked over at him and grinned. "Kay. Thanks."

      Lunch was unbelievably good. The widow Adams made fried chicken with
biscuits and homemade raspberry jam to put on them. There was corn and
mashed potatoes with delicious milk gravy poured over the top. Everyone
shoveled it in and all had second helpings. Scott had started eating more
and more and seemed to be always hungry. He'd noticed Sammy was consuming
more food too lately. Sometimes, his bones and joints ached at night and he
figured he was growing some more.

      It was impossible not to keep glancing at the Hispanic guy that he
had seen naked in the bunkhouse. It became obvious to the young man and he
shot back a quizzical look each time he caught Scott peering at him. His
name turned out to be Jose, and he was ruggedly handsome. Though not very
tall, he was broad and buffed. Scott kept picturing him naked and had to
look away and fill his mouth with the widow's good cooking to keep from
grinning.

      The conversation centered around what had been accomplished in the
morning farm work and what still needed to be done. That didn't interest
Scott, of course, and he kept letting his mind wander to imagining
Mr. Jenkins butt fucking Jose in the bunkhouse. It made his longing for
Tom's dick to be up inside him return, and he felt his manhood surging in
his shorts. He soon realized he was pitching a tent under the table. Scott
focused his thoughts away from the naughty, imaginary scene in the bunk
house and onto his dirt bike. He suddenly had a need for speed and the
accompanying release of stress that came with it. He resolved to bring it
back over to Mr. Jenkins' farm before the evening watering so it would be
available to ride the following morning.

      Tom mentioned that he had assigned Thursday mornings as his morning
off and that he wondered if he could borrow a car to go over to the college
and try to talk to the basketball coach. Scott agreed to check with his
parents if that would be okay. Scott rode with him in the back of the truck
on the way back to the farm and they agreed that Scott would ride along to
the college on Thursday so they could be together and talk privately. Scott
suggested they time it so they could go swimming at the adjoining Durfee
Rec Center after Sammy's lessons were over. Jose rode in the cab with
Mr. Jenkins on the way back.

      Scott practiced his trumpet some more that afternoon and when time
for the evening watering came, he rode his dirt bike back over to the
farm. He stayed on the side of the road in the gravel and carried his
riding clothes in a bag slung over his shoulder. Scott hung his riding gear
in the shed where he stored his motorbike. After setting the pipes, he
walked back into the barnyard and put the shovel and boots away. He started
to walk home and Mr. Jenkins came out of the house. "Ya wanna ride?"

      Scott shrugged one shoulder and said, "I guess."

      "Wanna drive?"

      "On the road?"

      "Sure, it's not a busy road. Be good experience fer ya."

      "Okay. Thanks."

      Scott climbed in the cab, started the engine and grabbed the
scrotum. The soft leather was intriguing to the touch. He peeked over at
Mr. Jenkins' crotch and remembered seeing his nice sized uncut dick out
irrigating. He wondered how soft Mr. Jenkins' real scrotum would feel. He
snapped out of his daydream, and thrust the stiff shifter into first
gear. He started out relatively smoothly and was very proud of himself. It
was both exciting and a bit scary to drive on the public roads for the
first time, but he did very well. He kind of wished Nick or Mike would come
driving by and he could honk and wave at them. He kind of missed the
guys. Just before coming to his house a state patrol car came around the
last curve. As soon as Scott saw the red and blue lights on top of the car
he swore and tensed up.

      "Just act natural. He don' know how old ya are," said
Mr. Jenkins. "Taint illegal if ya don' get caught," joked
Mr. Jenkins. Scott didn't think that was true and wondered how he could be
so casual about it.

      Scott held his breath and stared straight ahead as he passed the
patrolman. Scott watched the trooper fade from his rear view mirror as he
made the final curve before his home. He pulled into the driveway and his
father gave him a startled look. Scott climbed out and bid Mr. Jenkins
goodbye. His father waved a friendly gesture toward Mr. Jenkins and
motioned for Scott to come sit by him on the porch.

      "I'm glad your mother didn't see you driving just now. She wouldn't
approve. I don't think you should make a habit of it."

      "Okay. I won't. Is that all?"

      "No. Your mother told me you directed some foul and ugly words at her
today."

      Scott hung his head and nodded affirmatively.

      "Why would you do that?"

      "I was just frustrated and I told her like three times already I
would practice after my shower and she just wouldn't leave it alone. I kind
of lost my temper."

      Scott's dad gave an almost knowing smile, and quickly regained his
stern expression. "Well that's no excuse. You need to apologize."

      "Okay, I will. But can you tell her to lay off a little?"

      "I'll talk with her. Did you ask Mike to come over so I can speak
with him?"

      "No. I sort of forgot that. Do you really have to do that? I mean, we
don't really hang out much anymore since he has a girlfriend and all, and
I've talked to Sammy and he's not freaked out by what happened or
anything."

      His father took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Maybe. If
you think it's okay to let it lie, I'll trust your judgment." This
surprised Scott and he looked up at his father. He was clearly serious. He
was actually putting weight on Scott's opinion and it felt really good to
have that happen.

      Scott smiled and said, "Thanks. And I am sorry about mom. I'll go
apologize to her."

      Now Scott's dad smiled. "Thank you. I appreciate it. Let's just all
do our best to get along."

      The apology was graciously accepted by his mother since it was
sincerely expressed by Scott. It was followed by a short hug and then a
longer one since no one was there to witness him hugging his mother. It had
been a while since they had shared a good hug. Scott listened as Sammy
talked about how fast his times were getting at swimming lessons and a
description of afternoon baseball practice while they all ate a late
dinner. In spite of the big lunch, Scott had a second helping of meatloaf
and even his mom's creamed spinach.

      Scott was exhausted and after a quick shower, fell immediately
asleep. He had gone all day without a release and strangely, he had no
extreme urgency to have one. It had been an emotional roller coaster, but
he was beginning to come to grips with his situation and was hopeful his
dirt bike and his trumpet could be his surrogate lovers for a
while. Wassermusik played in his head as he drifted off to sleep.

      Wednesday morning came early and Scott rode his bicycle over to the
farm with eyes half closed. He peeked into Tom's bunk house window, but it
was empty. Just as he finished the morning irrigating, he pulled his phone
out and sent a text to Nick. "Dude, lets ride!*!"

      There was no response and Scott had pulled off all his clothes and
was putting on the riding gear when the phone buzzed in his pants
pocket. He fished in the pocket for it and snapped it open to read, "WTF u
up so early????"

      "I work on Jenkins farm."

      "Oh, fuck. K. When u wanna go?"

      "NOW"

      "FUCK U its 2 early"

      "Sounds fun if u had a dick to do it with LOL"

      "If I go will u suk it 4 me???"

      "If u ask nice"

      "K. will u please suk it 4 me??? Ur fn great at it"

      "K if u want. Where?"

      "meet at watering hole"

      "K"

      Scott pulled on his heavy boots and buckled them up. He slid his
helmet over his ears and strapped it on. It took several kicks before the
engine sputtered to life. It was cold and struggled to run until it warmed
up. Scott pushed the choke lever back in and eased out the clutch. He
smiled broadly as the barnyard disappeared behind him. He shifted up a gear
and rolled on the throttle skirting rocks as he climbed up the hill to the
canal road. The surge of speed was exhilarating and mind cleansing.

      Nick hadn't arrived when Scott reached the rendezvous point of the
watering hole. A few cows looked anxiously at him as he rode up. When he
didn't get too close, they returned to their drinking. Scott was growing
impatient when he finally heard the roar of Nick's approaching dirt
bike. He was standing on the foot pegs and maneuvering quickly over a small
trail toward Scott. He was a really good rider. They decided to ride
together a while before the promised blowjob. Nick took Scott over some new
trails along the foothills and one hill was long and steep, littered with
large rocks.

      Nick simply leaned forward and screwed on the throttle, clearing the
hill easily. Scott swallowed hard and shifted down a gear. He rolled the
throttle on hard and began the climb. It went well for the first 3/4 of the
way up. Then he hit a large rock with his front tire and it kicked him off
the trail, stalling his engine. He tried to catch himself but the steep
hill prevented it and he tumbled off the bike and down the hill, ass over
teakettle picking up speed as he rolled.

      At the bottom of the hill he finally stopped and lay prone on his
back staring at the stars. It confused him how the stars could be out in
broad daylight. He vaguely heard Nick's motor as Nick came rushing back
down the hill and jumped off his bike next to Scott. He rushed over and
knelt by his buddy. "Scott, are you okay?"

      Scott squeezed his eyes closed and back open and peered at Nick
through his goggles. "I guess. I'm not sure. My back hurts."

      "Shit dude, I'm sorry. I thought you could do that effin hill."

      "I almost made it. I hit a rock."

      "Can you move your fingers and feet?"

      Scott wiggled his fingers and moved his boots back and forth. "Yeah."

      "Good. Think you can sit up?"

      "Maybe." Slowly, Scott sat up and pushed on the pain in his lower
back. Nick lifted his jersey and grimaced.

      "You got some major road rash. That's gonna effin hurt."

      "It already does."

      "I was worried you weren't breathing when I saw you laying here from
the top of the hill. I'd effin hate give mouth to mouth to your ugly mug."

      "Gee thanks. I love you too."

      "Can you stand up?"

      "I think." Scott got on all fours then pulled one leg under him and
stood slowly. He arched his back and felt the pain intensify. "I banged up
my back real bad."

      "I'll go bring your bike back down for you. Sit on that rock over
there." Scott limped over to it and sat down. He pulled off his helmet and
took off his gloves.

      Nick climbed up the hill and retrieved Scott's bike. He leaned the
two bikes against each other and walked over to Scott. "Well, so much for
my effin blowjob. I was so looking forward to it."

      "I'll still do it for you. I didn't hurt my mouth."

      "You sure? You don't have to."

      "I don't mind. I could use a little something to take my mind off the
pain. And ... you got the littlest something I know of." Scott chuckled at
his own joke but laughing hurt his back and grabbed it and groaned.

      "Serves you right, fucker," Nick said smiling as he unbuckled his
nylon riding pants and pulled them down his thighs exposing his grey boxer
briefs. He pulled them down and his small hairy dick sprang upward. He
waddled over to where Scott was sitting and Scott sucked him into his warm
mouth. He pressed firmly around the shaft using his trumpet embouchure,
which Nick loved so much. Scott began working up and down Nick's small dick
and reached around and gripped Nick's firm ass cheeks.  It felt good to
taste the naked flesh of his buddy's dick again. His own dick rose from the
experience and pressed against the restraint of the riding pants.

      Scott moved his hands to his pants and unbuckled them and zipped down
the fly. He fished his dick out and started stroking it while he sucked
Nick off. It didn't take long for his own orgasm to peak since he hadn't
jacked off for almost two days. Plus, the additional excitement of doing it
out in the wide open country with the risk of getting caught heightened the
thrill.

      "Fuck, you're good at this," grunted Nick as he threaded his hands
through Nick's matted brown hair. Nick took over control of the tempo by
forcing Scott's head onto and off of his pulsating dick. "Fuck yeah! Here I
fucking cum!!!" The familiar warm ooze spread into Scott's mouth and he
instinctively swallowed the bulk of the load. When it was over, Nick pulled
Scott's head deep into his belly, forcing his small dick as far into
Scott's throat as it would go and held it there panting. Scott made a firm
ring with his lips around the base of Nick's dick and slid slowly off,
extracting the last of Nick's load out of his shrinking tube.

      "Thanks, dude. You're awesome. Want yours sucked now?"

       Nick started to kneel down, but Scott stopped him. "No, its okay. I
kind of promised to lay off sex stuff for a while."

      "What? Really? Why?"

      "I can't really say, but I just made a promise I want to try and
keep."

      "Wow. No effin way I could ever do that. Want me to just jack it for
you then?"

      "Nah, I'll finish it myself." Scott pressed one hand into the sore
muscles in his back and with the other pumped furiously at his dick. He
gritted his teeth and jacked himself hard. The orgasmic urge came on
quickly and four long, thick spurts of cum flew from his dick onto the
ground in front of the kneeling Nick who shinnied away quickly to avoid
getting splattered on.

      Nick started to laugh. "What's so funny?" asked Scott as he pulled
slowly on his shrinking, purple dick.

      "You cummed all over an anthill. Look, some of them are stuck in
it. I wonder what's going through their little ant heads."

      "You're so weird."

      "If any of them little fuckers get pregnant from your seed, your
little brother, Sammy, will end being an uncle to an ant." Nick busted up
at his clever crack.

      Scott laughed along and then groaned again, pressing his fist hard
into the sore back muscles. "Don't make me laugh, you shithead." Scott
wiped up and they both stuffed themselves back into their riding
gear. Scott was proud of himself for holding strong to his own new
commitment to follow Tom's example and not let anyone do sex stuff on him
until they could share it together again.

      Scott had to have Nick start his bike for him and they rode slowly
back to where the trails split. Nick headed down the hill to his place and
Scott followed the canal road back to Mr. Jenkins' farm. He was really
stiff and sore now and dressing in his regular clothes was painful. Instead
of riding his bicycle to go irrigate, he just walked slowly and stiffly
using the shovel as a makeshift cane. It took a long time to set all the
tubes since bending and twisting was now very painful. He was limping
badly, slightly hunched over when he reached the barnyard. Mr. Jenkins and
the ranch hands were just returning from lunch.

      Tom and Mr. Jenkins asked what was wrong with him. Scott explained
what had happened and got ample sympathy from both of them. Mr. Jenkins
sent Tom off in the old truck with the two Hispanic workers and instruction
for the evening chores. When Scott came out of the shed, Mr. Jenkins asked
to look at his back. He whistled and said it looked bad.

      "Come on into the house. That needs a scrubbin' and some anti-biotic
cream I gots."

      "Nah, it's okay. I can have my mom work on it when I get home."

      "Ahh, okay. If'n you'd rather. I sure hope it won't bother her about
ya ridin' yer bike after she sees that patch o' hamburger on yer back,
though."

      "Oh. Maybe I better come in." Mr. Jenkins grinned.

      Scott followed Mr. Jenkins into his house and in the mud room,
Mr. Jenkins carefully pulled Scott's shirt off and pulled his pants and
boxers down just barely off his ass globes to get access to the full area
of scraped up skin.

      "This first part's gonna hurt like hell. Hold yer breath." Scott
gasped as Mr. Jenkins started rubbing the abrasion with a soapy wash cloth.

      "When I rinse it off yer pants and boxers are gonna get wet. Better
slip outta them."

      Reluctantly, Scott pushed them lower and Mr. Jenkins knelt and pulled
them free of his stocking feet. Mr. Jenkins copped a quick feel of Scott's
large balls and asked, "Did these big fella's take a hit when ya crashed?"

      "No, they're fine." Scott's tone clearly indicated for him to let go,
but he helped the process by taking hold of Mr. Jenkins' hand and pulling
it free. Mr. Jenkins began pouring clear water over the wounded area while
Scott stood on a bath towel.

      It felt good when he rinsed it with clean water and then dabbed at it
with a clean, cool washcloth. "Oh, thanks. Man, I'm really getting stiff."

      "Ya are? Lemme see," Mr. Jenkins peeked around Scott's hip at his
limp genitals, and Scott moved his hand over them to hide them from his
view.

      "Not there. I mean my muscles are getting all stiff from the crash."

      "Ohhh. Course. Hehe. Foller me inside and I'll get the cream for yer
scrapes.

      Scott lay down on Mr. Jenkins' large soft bed made of pine logs and
covered with a country quilt. Scott was naked except for his socks. He
heard the microwave running in the kitchen and wondered why. Mr. Jenkins
returned and spread the soothing cream over the oozing rash. Scott started
to get up after the cream was applied, but Mr. Jenkins pressed him back
onto the bed with a firm hand on his lower back.

      "Stay there a minute. I got somethin' else for ya." Mr. Jenkins
rubbed his large hands across Scott's aching shoulder blades smoothing hot
oil into his sore muscles. It felt incredibly good. He pressed and kneaded
the hot oil deeply into his tense muscles. Scott moaned. Mr. Jenkins
smiled.

      He continued on down the side of Scott's back that wasn't scraped up
and down over the smooth, young globes of Scott's ass. Briefly, Mr. Jenkins
slid a finger through Scott's crack and wiggled the finger on his
bud. Scott clenched his ass cheeks together trapping the finger for a
second. When Scott relaxed, Mr. Jenkins removed his finger and rubbed his
globes some more.

      From there, he proceeded to work the magic body oil into the backs of
his legs and calves, rubbing side to side, pinching and squeezing firmly,
yet gently, all along the way. Scott began relaxing and felt the tension
giving way. When he rubbed the feet, Scott closed his eyes and sighed
deeply. Almost imperceptibly, Scott's penis filled with blood and pressed
into the decorative quilt.

      Mr. Jenkins placed a hand under Scott's shoulder and thigh and lifted
with a soft command to roll over. Scott complied and then slid carefully
from the center of the bed back to the edge gingerly avoiding rubbing his
sore back across the bed. Mr. Jenkins placed a towel under his back to
protect the nice quilt and Scott lay back. Then the strong, old, farm hands
began gripping and twisting his thighs. He moved on down the legs and then
back up massaging deeply into Scott's groin. Scott felt his erection
lifting and falling as Mr. Jenkins' fingers brushed against its hardness.

      He spread more warm oil over Scott's chest and rubbed his neck up to
his hairline and rubbed Scott's temples in a slow circular motion. He moved
slowly back down Scott's chest and tweaked each of his large brown
nipples. Scott was completely relaxed and thought how nice it would be to
just fall asleep right there on that nice soft bed. He was brought from the
trance as a strong, oily hand gripped his engorged penis. Scott lifted his
head and looked at Mr. Jenkins hand begin a slow, firm, downward tug on his
foreskin. Scott reached down and grabbed his wrist.

      "Please don't."

      "Sorry. I just thought you'd like that stiff muscle taken care of
too," Mr. Jenkins said sincerely. "Most boys yer age wouldn't be able to
stop me. Yer a strange young man. But a goodun." He released Scott's dick
and Scott almost regretted it. Thoughts of Tom helped him stick to his
resolve, however.

      "Thanks for the rubdown. I never had anything like that before. It
really felt good."

      "My pleasure." Mr. Jenkins grinned and Scott could see it really was
his pleasure. Somewhere along the process, he had pulled his own dick out
of his jeans and it was rock hard and dripping precum.

       Scott carefully slid off the bed and put his hand on the farmer's
shoulder. "Sorry about that," Scott said pointing at the old guy's
erection. "I just can't do it with you." He walked with much less
difficulty back to the mud room, dressed and went in to say goodbye. He
stopped short though as he saw Mr. Jenkins on the bed, pants down to his
knees and slowly stroking his uncut dick covered in warm oil. Scott smiled,
left quietly, and rode his bike slowly home.

      Scott lost himself again in his music and even played some of his
favorite jazz tunes. His mind wandered back and forth from Nick to
Mr. Jenkins and then to Tom as he practiced. It had been a strange day. He
looked forward to spending some alone time with Tom the following day and
on his way back out the door to go do the evening irrigating, he asked his
mom if Tom could borrow the car and explained why. She smiled and said it
was okay but then asked, "What's wrong? Why are you walking strange?"

      Scott thought of several plausible lies, but remembered how much
trouble his last lies has caused and looked her in the eye. "I fell on my
dirt bike today and I'm a little sore."

      "I thought so. Please be careful on that thing."

      "I will. You're not mad or upset?"

      "No. Just worried for you. I know you love it and even though it
scares me, it's not fair for me to keep you from it. I just have to accept
that's something you love and let you be who you are."

      I limped over to the couch, leaned down and gave her a long
hug. Standing back up straight, I groaned.  She gave me an empathizing look
and then we both broke into wide smiles.

      *#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#

I hope you continue to enjoy the story. If you have comments or just
encouragement to share, I would love to hear from you. It helps me to know
someone is still reading along. My email is h.schreiber@hushmail.com

Thanks to Smallfox and Pablo for their continued support in editing and
helping to improve the story.