Saturday, May 15, 2010
Iowa Farm Boy, Part IV
Almost immediately after graduation Steve put me to work at the shop shining boots and shoes. I’d been shining my own shoes and boots for years but had no clue how badly I’d been doing it. Steve set me straight. “Cleaning the dirt and old layers of wax or paste off is as important as applying the new coat. You’re just wasting your time applying a new coat without doing a good cleaning. Brush it well, use the dental picks to clean out the crevices, scrub it down with saddle soap if you have to. You want to open the pores on the leather to receive the new coat of wax. Brushing and buffing? Develop a routine. Learn to show off. And you gotta get good with both hands.”
I practiced on Steve’s and my boots back at the farm. I bought extra brushes to fill out the kit. I added more colors to my waxes. And I stayed very busy at the shop. I could see a pair of my highly polished boots from across the street. I was proud of that. And I was stashing away a little more cash.
Mid-summer I had a panic attack. Arriving at the shop early, Steve brought me a letter that had been shoved under the front door. It was a packet from the college that had awarded me the scholarship. Freshman registration materials. I figured my mom had brought it in after it had been delivered to their house. I wanted to puke. Steve sat me down on the customer sofa and sat next to me.
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know, Sir.”
“You know we can’t stay here for ever. If you don’t leave for college in the fall, there will be a lot of talk. And it won’t be good for either of us. This is still cow, pig, and corn country and they’d be just as happy to shoot us as look at us if they knew what was going on. But I’m not gonna make your mind up for you. You’ll know in your heart what is right. Take a couple weeks to think about it. I’ll even take you down to the college if you wanna take another look around.”
I was devastated. I didn’t want to make that decision. I just wanted life to go on as it was. I was happy. That seemed like enough to me.
That weekend I undertook another major step in my education. Saturday afternoon we’d closed the shop early and headed back to the farm. We took the horses out in the pasture and down to a creek that flowed through the farm. The water was fairly high, and hot and sweaty as the horses, we pulled off all our clothes and lay down in the creek to cool off. The cool water was a tonic and before long I was on top of Steve, licking and biting his leathery nipples. I could feel his dick getting hard against my stomach. Steve was pushing his tongue deep into my ear, a velvety growl vibrating my entire head. I could feel my guts churning and my anus clenching. It was like there was a direct connection between my ears and cherry butthole, one being the key to unlock the other.
Steve took a wet finger and pushed it against my rectum. I gasped. I wanted it so badly.
“Relax. Deep breath. Let it go. Deep breath. Let it go. One more time.” And as I exhaled that third time Steve’s finger slipped inside. I sucked in a huge breath, blood rushing to my head and my dick. “Now, sit up slowly. I want to see your dick.”
Slowly that finger explored my insides and before long found my rock hard prostate. Steve massaged it ever so slowly and my dick was dancing. I started to ride that finger, I wanted it deeper inside me. With each plunge Steve’s finger did another poke on my prostate. The tenth time down I quivered and shot a monster load. It was probably the most explosive orgasm I had ever had.
Steve was grinning when I opened my eyes, and I collapsed onto his broad chest holding on to him for dear life. I was still clenching that finger in my ass, wanting to hold on to that feeling forever. In the distance we could hear some loud engines revving up by the house.
“I’ll be go to hell. C’mon, get dressed. We gotta get back to the house.” And just like that the finger was pulled out of my ass. We threw on our clothes and raced back to the house. Upon arrival we tied the horses up in the shade of the barn and made our way to the front of the house. Two huge motorcycles, choppers with huge handlebars, were parked there, and sitting on the front porch stairs were two monster-sized men. They stood as we came around the corner of the house.
They were both dressed in jeans under leather chaps. Leather vests covered with decals hung open on their torsos. The chaps covered black leather boots. And that is where the similarities of the two ended. The taller of the two had a shaved head and a huge Fu Manchu mustache light brown in color. Under the vest I could see a glorious tattoo. From a distance it looked like a Japanese watercolor cascading down his chest and continuing down below the waistline of his jeans. More tattoos covered each arm and I caught a glimpse of yet another tattoo arising from the neck of his vest and coming up the back of his head. He was lanky, probably 6'2" and chiseled. Sharp, knife-like muscles seemed to arise everywhere. The black chaps accentuated a tight butt and a packed crotch.
The other guy’s skin was covered as well. This time with hair. He was probably 5'10" and was built like a brick shit house. His biceps were as big as my thighs and his thighs as big as my waist. And everywhere he was covered in dark, thick, luxuriant hair. It was like a rug. The top of his head was covered in stubble but starting at his sideburns he’d grown a thick, long beard, the bottom of which nearly reached the center of his chest. A huge gut poked out from the vest and threatened to overflow the jeans and chaps.
Steve was laughing his ass off as he rushed to greet the two men. Bear hugs and butt slaps were exchanged. Steve was holding onto the shorter one’s head and giving him a huge sloppy kiss. I could feel myself turning red with embarrassment, or was it jealousy?
As if on cue the kiss came to an end and Steve looked back at me. “C’mere. I want you to meet ChromeDome and NastiBear. You only get one guess as to which is which.” He pulled me over to where the two guests were standing. “Gentlemen! I want you to meet barberboy!” I was shocked. Steve had never called me that in front of anyone. I could feel myself blushing.
ChromeDome grabbed me into a hug and ran his hand over my head three or four times. “Damn he’s fine.” He snuck his other hand into my crotch and gave it a playful squeeze then pushed me over to the other man. NastiBear pulled me to him and damn near squeezed the life out of me. It was like hugging a tank that had been covered with Brillo pads. He smelled of sweat and asphalt and leather. He loosened up on the hug and turned me around, wrapped his arms around my chest, pinning my arms to my side. His head peeked over my left shoulder, his boulder stomach tight against my back.
“I want one of these! CD! You gotta get me one of these! I can’t live unless I get me one of these! In fact, I want THIS ONE!”
ChromeDome teased back, “You know how you are with toys. You break ‘em the first time you play with ‘em. I can’t begin to count the number of toys you’ve broken. But if you insist, I guess this one looks pretty sturdy....”
“Hands off, boys!” Steve shouted jokingly. “Mine, all mine.” He winked at me.
“Fuckwad!” Nastibear let go his grip and shoved me toward Steve. “See if I tell you the good news we traveled 120 miles to deliver in person.” Without missing a beat, Steve shoved me right back at Nastibear.
“I guess we could share.”
“Nope. You hurt my feelings.” I was shoved aside “C’mon, CD, let’s go.”
“And miss a free steak dinner? Corn on the cob? Cold beer?” Steve offered.
Nastibear hemmed and hawed. “Well, maybe just a little bite to eat before we go back. I got my girlish figure to worry ‘bout. But I still ain’t delivering the good news.”
“Maybe later I can persuade you. You know, with my charm, and ‘special’ skills.”
“Fuckwad! You ain’t got no charm. But maybe we can talk further about those ‘special’ skills.” He laughed.
We ate dinner out back at the picnic table by the barbecue pit and watched the sunset. The men bantered about mutual friends in Omaha and the changing “scene” there, as they called it. I gathered up the dishes and carried them into the kitchen. Steve picked up the remaining few and followed me.
At the sink he turned me around. “Finish the dishes and then I want you to head for the hay loft and go to bed. The three of us are going to continue our discussion.” He paused. “And we’re going to have sex. But not like you and me, at least not yet. These guys are very special to me and a couple times a year we get together for our own types of enjoyment. You’re gonna act all jealous and I want you to get over that shit quick. Just stay in the loft tonight and we’ll talk more tomorrow when they head back to Omaha.”
“Yes, Sir.” I mumbled. He was right. I was feeling jealous. And curious. And afraid. Afraid these guys were taking my place, whatever “my place” was.
“Good boy.” Now finish up and head to bed.”
I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep but surprisingly I did finally nod off, exhausted by the days events. I focused on the time at the creek and clutched my pillow tightly dreaming of Sir’s finger up my ass.
A few hours later I awoke abruptly and sat straight up. The clock radio said it was just after 2:00. I heard a crack followed by a scream. I climbed down the ladder quickly, still naked, threw on my boots that were at the base of the ladder and went out the back of the barn where I thought I’d heard the sounds coming from.
The shed door was partially open and light spilled out the frame. Another crack was followed this time by a moan. I went directly to the door and pushed it open just a bit further, concerned that someone was hurt inside. Was it Steve? Were these guys hurting Steve?
Just inside the door, his back to me, was Steve. A huge leather whip was hanging in his right hand, the tail of it trailing behind him. He was naked except for his socks and boots and was glistening with sweat. In the middle of the room were NastiBear and ChromeDome. They had removed their vests and jeans but both had boots and chaps on. They were tied together at the waist facing each other, a rope coiled multiple times around them. Both had their hands tied together with thick rope, their arms stretched above their heads and secured to a rope that had been thrown over a beam up above. The rope had been tied tight enough that both men were standing on tiptoe trying to keep their balance. ChromeDome had a huge black leather patch over his mouth that was held in place with a leather belt around his head. Later I would learn of the penis shaped leather gag that was attached to that patch. Nastibear had a bandanna gag in his mouth but it was his moans and groans and screams that had obviously been escaping from around the gag.
Steve lifted the whip and sent a powerful lick towards Nastibear’s back. “Crack!” Again Nastibear screamed, pushing against CD and nearly sending them both flying.
I stepped back into the shadows afraid of being caught in disobeying Steve. I should hurry now back to the loft, I thought, no harm, no foul. But I couldn’t. I wanted to watch. I had to watch. In my childish mind I was reminded of all those ‘Wild Wild West’ episodes where James West was strung up, enduring the torture of his enemies. My cock began to stir.
I squatted very low and crawled over by the door and peered through the vertical opening between the door and frame. Now it was CD’s turn. Steve spun the men around so that both he and I had a good view of CD’s back. The tattoo I’d seen peeking out of the top of the vest was an intricately drawn mountaintop on top of which was perched a dragon. The dragon’s neck and head climbed CD’s neck and multi-colored fire designs covered the back of his head. The first crack of the whip hit the mountain and CD’s squeals reminded me of those I’d heard from young hogs being castrated.
For the next two hours I watched Steve beat, flog, tease and whip these two tied men until they were quivering, sobbing towers of bloodied flesh. When he finally set them free and removed their gags they both dropped to their knees in front of him. They began to kiss his boots and slowly worked their way up his tree trunk legs licking away the sweat. CD moved behind Steve and pushed his massive cheeks apart burying his face in the hairy crevice.
NastiBear began skillfully taking Steve’s hard dick in his mouth, every inch of it disappearing in that thick beard. His hairy hands moved up Steve’s chest and grabbed the fully ripe nipples. Steve began his trademark growling. Nastibear’s head was bobbing more quickly on his dick. CD was holding on to Steve’s buttocks slapping them in yet another rhythm.
I spit in my hand and started to massage my aching cock. I was jealous. I wanted to take Steve’s cock in MY mouth, to have my tongue working his hungry asshole, to taste his sweat and shit, to feel his nipples between my fingers. My right hand was pumping faster, my left hand was darting between my sensitive nipples.
I was breathing hard and about to cum when I heard Steve shout.
“Yeah! Drown in my cum, you motherfuckers! You Fucking Motherfuckers! AAAAArgh.”
We came at the same time.
Thinking they were done I hustled back to loft and climbed under the blanket. It turned out to be nearly two hours later when their grunting, shouting, screaming, and laughter finally came to an end. The sun was coming up and a rooster was crowing at a nearby farm. I could hear the three men walking back to the house. I rolled over and fell fast asleep.