This was Wes's sixtieth birthday. He stood in front of his small wall mirror and looked himself over. This was not something he did usually. He still remembered his Mom, long gone, used to say that a man who looks in mirrors is on his way to hell.
But he was pleased with the image he found, as he moved the mirror around to get a good look at his naked self. His body still looked like that of a younger man, smooth, nicely muscled. His straw colored hair was now attractively shot with gray streaks that looked almost like blond highlights. Only the crinkle wrinkles around his eyes and the vertical lines on either side of his face added maturity. His full lips had lost some of their pinkness, but his gleaming white teeth were as sparkly as ever. This was due to the good fresh milks he drank and the brushing twice daily.
This a milestone for him, for the first time he had run the farm, single-handedly single Gramps passed five years ago, he began to feel the need of a helper, with the milking and other chores. He put an ad in the paper in the County Seat. "Milk farmer requires a summer helper for milking and other chores. Students welcome, includes room and board, $1000 dollars for the two months."
He figured that it was a big sum of money and he would get money responses, but two weeks went by with no calls or letters. Had he been able to investigate, he would find that money student spent their summer vacation loafing, the others who needed money found waiter jobs or landscaping jobs that left them time to tom cat around at night. Contracting for a job in the remote farm county did not appeal. Yet just when Wes was giving up, his telephone rang with an applicant. The boy sounded eager and he made an appointment to come out that very day to look over the farm.
A beat-up Beetle pulled up the lane, its engine wining and coughing as the ignition was turned off. Wes could see from his position at the barn that a skinny, very young looking lad hoped out and walked up to the front door.
Wes left the barn and followed arriving behind the applicant, just as he reached the front door. "No one home, 'cause I'm right 'hind you son," came a voice behind the boy. He jumped in surprise, and then smiled at the farmer held out his big smooth work calloused him. "Name's Wesley Booth, what be yers?"
"I'm Robert Golding. I saw your ad and I thought that it would be nice to have a healthy two months in the country and I sure could use some of the money to fix up my old VW."
"Yessiree, I heered it complainin'. Come inside an' we kin talk 'bout the job."
Robert was a nerd, in his first year in engineering school. The boy was tall, maybe 6' 3" and skinny, but his body was smooth and pale with long muscles from swimming. His face was babyish still but his dark brown eyes shone brightly under his cascading dark curly hair. Wes figured that, like the calf that seemed skinny, once they grew older, they filled out nicely.
"How old are you lad?"
"Just now, today, my twentieth birthday."
"Wal, 'granulations. I would take you fer younger. Do you think the work on this here dairy farm would be hard fer a youngun' like you?" Wes grasped the boy's soft upper arm and felt the muscle. "I guess we can build you up with chores and real nature grown food." Wes paused a moment, "I think I'll take a chance on you, yer hired."
Robert smiled for the first time. Wes was taken with the big smile that went from side of his face to the other and the even teeth he showed. The boy was wearing silver metal glasses and the got pushed up higher with the force of his cheeks that puffed out with the smile.
Robert was just becoming aware of his interest in boys. The interest he had suppressed while growing up. This year, he confessed to his roommate and the results were disastrous. First off the kid looked at him with horror and moved out. Next he began to sense that that the confession was all over campus and he got some funny looks. He felt that this job, away from all that, would give him a chance to settled down and find his bearings.
One other result of the gossip was that on two occasions at the college pool showers, two guys tried to hit on him. The truth was that he wasn't admiring of his peers, he always liked older guys, like his under Ned who always gave him a hard on when they were together. Of course Ned knew nothing about his nephew's feelings. Now as he looked across the room to Wes, he felt that fluttering in his stomach. Wes was exactly the kind of older guy that turned him on. He knew that he had to be careful, as he could get his face smashed if he made a move.
Wes took him upstairs. There was only one bedroom. Wes had the large bed in the center and against the wall on the other side was a cot that Wes had setup. "Hope you don't mind the sleepin' arrangements. The only other place to sleep is in the little farm office in the barn, an' it smells pretty strong of cows, as you would expect."
"No this is fine." Robert began to think that he would be in a perpetual state of excitement sleeping in the same room as this fine looking man.
"You ought to change yer fine-looking clothes for some tough work clothes. You got 'em?"
"I got jeans an work shoes. The guys wear work shoes kind of like an affectation."
"Yeah," said Wes nodding wisely, but having no idea of the meaning of the word. Wes continued sitting on his bed and noticed that Robert hesitated getting undressed. "Don't mind me. I'll just sit here 'til yer ready to get the tour."
At first Robert hesitated stripping to his briefs in front of Wes, but somehow the sturdy man seemed someone to be comfortable with. He slid his long sleeve tee shirt over his head, mussing his curly hair, but a quick shake threw it back into its charming coiffeur. Wes studied the boy's smooth, flawless but flat chest. He looked like those skinny models in the magazines. Wes guessed that his waist was no more than 23 or 24 inches. But somehow with his handsome and intelligent face, he didn't seem unhealthy, more like a dancer.
When Robert sat on his cot and kicked off his loafers (no socks) and then his dress trousers, Wes felt that he was breathing quicker, for the boy had strong muscular legs, not tooth picks as he had expected from the thin body. Then too, these legs were the legs of a man, not a nerdy boy, they were decorated on his shins and upper thighs, as well as the tops of his big toes with shiny dark hairs.
"Okay Boss, I ready."
Wes shook himself out of his reverie. "Yessiree, we're just in time for milkin'. You gotta learn this, cause you'll be doing it, twice a day, 6AM and 6PM. Come along,
Whew, thought Robert, this place sure smells strong. Almost reading his thoughts, Wes said, "You'll learn to love this smell, even shoveling the cow flops in the stalls." Then walking up to a beautifully marked cow, tan and white, he said, "This is Molly. I'm gonna show you milkin' I picked her 'cause she's a darlin' and patient. And I think she really enjoys being milked. It seems sure enough to relax her, same as it does for men and boys."
Robert wasn't sure what the handsome older man meant, but something told him not to ask at this time. Wes's stroked Molly's shiny rump and reached his hands toward the teats, careful, not to upset her. Robert thought it was like a lover reaching for his lover's nipple or......penis. In fact the teats seemed like penises. Wes's strong, brown, farmers hands competently grasped the tubular protuberance and he squeezed gently. Robert's penis immediately stiffened in his jeans. He reached down and pushed the large organ into a more comfortable angle. Wes caught the motion and smiled broadly at him. "Yessir, it does get me a little hot in the pants too, like as if I was milkin' myself. You do it, I'm sure as the sun comes up. You do, don't year?"
Robert merely blushed and coughed with embarrassment, furnishing an affirmative reply thereby. Meanwhile Wes was paying attention to his stroking of the teat. Robert watched the tenderness and the rhythm of the squeeze and the up and down motion. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Suddenly Robert realized that he was getting faint. He grabbed a wooden post and held on. Wes jumped up and came up to him. "What's the matter boy? You look pale." Then Wes realized that something was happening in front of his eyes, Robert was panting and his hips were thrusting. He looked into Wes's eyes helplessly. Wes put his strong hands on Robert's thin shoulders, "It's okay Robert, I know how yer feelin', jest let it happen an' you gonna feel better."
Robert moaned loudly and in a moment a large wet spot appeared on the front of his jeans. Wes nodded wisely. "I think we're gonna get along real fine. Yer a really good lookin' fellow and already yer makin' yer way into me. Kin I call you Bobby."
Bobby's eyes teared a little. "Sure, that's what my Mom called me, before she died years back." He got control of himself. "Boss, I want to get back on the horse."
"What that mean youngster?"
"It means when you fall off, you should get back on right away."
Well Bobby turned out to be a good milker. His slim, smooth hands seemed to exact all the milk from the utters. He felt himself getting an erection each time, but he ignored it, feeling that this was the way it was. But Wes standing beside him, his crotch at Bobby's eyes level could not disguise the big puffing out of the farmer's Bibb overalls. Bobby had to restrain himself from reaching out and stroking the bulge with one hand, while stroking the cow's teat with the other.
Finally the milking was done, the tall cans put in the cooling room to be trucked to the collection dairy the next day. Wes was a good cook, simple cooking, but the ingredients were all farm raised and the roast chicken was slaughtered here, and a product of this small farm. Bobby kept praising the food and especially the homemade beer that Wes produced. It was double the usual commercial beer and before long Bobby was laughing more than he wanted to and slightly slurring his speech. Wes thought it was real cute and he laughed along with the giggling boy. Soon Bobby quieted down, dropped the last forkful of pecan pie down and his head drooped. Wes could see that in a minute, Bobby would fall down over the table. He got up, lifted the boy up and put his arm around the slim waist and walked him upstairs.
Bobby sat on the edge of the bed, half asleep, swaying. "Git yer clothes off so you can lay yer self down an sleep. You had a busy first day." When the farmer saw that the boy was almost paralyzed, he helped him undress, feeling the soft, smooth body as he slipped off the clothes and slipped on a night shirt. Bobby's head fell on Wes's shoulder as he lowered the boy onto the pillow and covered him with a blanket. He looked down at the boy, thinking that he looked so young as he slipped into sleep. Soon a soft steady breathing filled the room. Wes fought his desire to place a kiss on those full, pink lips. He thought, "Control yer self. There'll be other times when he's awake."
The next morning, just as the rays of the sun were lighting the loft, Wes slowly woke up to see Bobby standing near his bed. "Sir, you talked about milking men and boys. Now that I learned a bit of the technique, I'd like to practice on you.
Wes's eyes opened in surprise and his mouth broke into a smile of pleasure. "Why shure spout, I'd admire a mornin' milkin' same as any cow in the barn." With that permission, Bobby lowered the blankets. He exclaimed in awe, Wes always slept without clothes and the farmers thick prong was extended and lying against his golden tan belly, pulsing slightly and the pink/red head completely out of it covering. Bobbie reached out and grasped the shaft. Wes began a soft crooning sound. Bobby lifted it from its perch on the farmer's stomach and rubbed the head with his thumb.
"Oh my, I'm 'joying this mightily. I kin feel my bollocks stirring, getting' read to give milk."
Bobby smiled with satisfaction. He was fulfilling a fantasy he had often had while jerking off. He wrapped his hand around the organ and squeezed, as if it were a teat, then he began a soft up and down motion, from the base to the tip, over and over. Wes lifted his head, "My, my you are makin' me feel so good. Would you like to have me deliver my milk?"
"Yes, please, I want to see it, maybe to taste it."
Wes got a slightly crafty face on. "Tell you what sweetie. I jus' am not able to deliver milk from the hand rubbing. I've tried afore, but no luck."
"What does it take to get you off?"
"Wall, don't know iffn yer able, but only the soft mouth of a lovin' boy kin do it, make me shoot,."
"You mean you want me to give you a blow job. I'm not a gay boy."
"Don't git hit up. I donno what a gay boy is, I only know that that is the way if works for me. But iffn you'd rather quick now. I'll unnerstand."
Bobby thought for a moment, then with a sob of resignation, he leaned down, lifting the jumping penis up toward his mouth and tentatively licked the head that contained a jewel of pre cum. It tasted delicious, like something he had been wanting all his life. He let out a sob of excitement and moved his dripping mouth down the shaft until the head was against the roof of his mouth. Wes cried out. "I'm in heaven boy, thanks to you. But don't stop, suckle harder. I'm near the moment of givin' it up to you."
Bobbie realized that he loved the feeling of the soft skin with the hard inside sliding up and down his lips. He was determined to make the owner of the cock happy. He felt Wes pressing against the back of his mouth and somehow Bobby knew to open his throat and take the hot shaft in. He commenced swallowing over and over. "That's it. Oh you are a master of this boy. I can't hold on, here it comes."
Wes's lower body began thrusting like the bull behind the mare. He shouted hoarsely and Bobby felt his throat being soothed with warm, fragrant man-milk. He swallowed greedily and thankfully, knowing that he had, in some way, conquered the older man and his own timidity.
Wes was lying back. The experience had been unlike anything that had happened to him before, in its intensity and unexpectedness. Yes, he had had sex with his cousin when he was young, and a few adventures afterward, but this boy was a keeper.
Bobby's long thin prick was standing away from his body. Wes knew that the boy would be useless for chores like that. He put his rough hands on the boy's smooth, bony hips and pulled him close. He opened his mouth and put his long tongue out and liked the whole organ, especially giving attention to the head with its leaking piss slit. Bobby almost sagged down in ecstasy, He was gasping loudly and his hips began to fuck the hot mouth. Wes decided to let the boy have his pleasure. Bobby may have been a bit shy, but when it came to seeking his climax, he was almost ruthless. He put his hands on Wes's hot ears and began a fast fuck, holding the man still for his pleasure. Suddenly he froze and began an animalistic mewling sound. Wes felt the hot spunk pelting inside his mouth. He pleasured the boy until finally his fucking stopped.
"Oh shit, Boss. I'm sorry. That wasn't nice of me to use you like that. But I loved getting you off and as for myself, I've been waiting for something like that."
"Well farm hand, 'bout time you helped with the farming. We kin take this up later, 'round nighttime. Maybe you might like gittin' fucked."
"Oh Sir, I'm not sure of that at all."
"We'll see," said Wes.
Well the two spent a full day working hard, stopping only to eat their sandwiches in the field. After the evening milking they had supper. "But no beer tonight. It really fucks me up," said Bobby.
"Now Bobby, you oughten to say such harsh words. My Gramps ulways said that iffn you can't say good English, then say nothing/"
Bobby laughed and came over and gave Wes a hug, just when he was disengaging from the hug, Wes grabbed him, held his face steady and put his large, puffy warm lips against the young man's smooth mouth. Bobby caught fire from the kiss and soon they were licking each other's tongue and lips and huffing and puffing like steam engines. Suddenly Bobby jumped away, "Oh shit, I almost came in my pants from that hot kiss. Oops, sorry for saying shit."
This time Wes laughed. "Come up to the loft. I think it's fuckin' time, an' I'm not cussin' I mean it the way I mean it."
They walked up arms about each other. They undressed silently and went to the larger bed and hugged each other and kissed more. "Okay tadpole, you get on your knees with her elbows on the bed, yer rump in the air an' you'll be fucked proper."
Bobbie sat up. "Oh dear Wes, dear Boss, I'm am rigid with fear of such an invasion of my ass. I just can't do it."
"There's nuthin' be fraid of. Looky, I'll show you."
Wes got into the position he had explained to Bobby. Bobby went around the back of the crouching farmer. "Oh Wes, you have the most beautiful hand quarters in the world. Your ass halves are so smooth and tan with dimples on each side." Wes was moaning from the caresses on his sensitive buttocks. He tried to talk, but his voice was so hoarse that he could only croak.
"Boy, stroke my ass hole, I desire it mightily."
"Sure, I'd like to do that." Somewhere in Bobby's consciousness was the thought that he would really like to be the fucker, to enter the ass hole of this gorgeous farmer. He stroked the hairless pucker. Now Wes was dripping spit from his mouth and making aimless crowing sounds. This was having such a good effect that Bobby took his finger and inserted it a tiny bit into Wes's ass hole.
"Oh blessed light. You got me. My ass is on fire. I want nuthin more than you move that finger and rub that mystery spot in there."
Bobby did it, smiling at the reaction he was getting. When he felt that rounded spot inside the man's ass hole, Wes reared up with a shout. "Oh, nuthin' like that afore has come on me. Do more, maybe...."
"Yes?" Bobby. You want me to make that spot feel good with my man tool?
There was no answer for a while. He could see Wes's jaw working, trying to express himself. Finally he blurted out, "You fucker. You got me! I am yer lady. Jes push yer sex organ into my hole. I will die right here iffn you don't obey."
"Sure Boss. I know how to take orders." He slapped the big ass halves and pushed the head of his cock into the steaming hole.
"Keep doin'. Deeper, you shit!"
Bobby reared back and bottomed in the ass. Wes howled. Then he grabbed hold of the rural man's hips for balance and gave the screaming crying thanking farm the first fuck of his life.
When it was over, Wes kissed the boy again. "Thanks. Did you'll enjoy it?"
"Yessir, but you have to watch that swearing. Your Gramps wouldn't approve."