The Sexy Farmhand

My name is John Smith. I am a 35 year old bachelor and live on a farm ten miles out of Midburg a small town in the Midwest. The farm, with 250 acres, has been in my family for 200 years. I inherited it from my dad.

It is an up-to-date farm, with every possible type of farm equipment. I raise cattle, hogs, and chickens, in addition to growing soybeans. Of course I can’t handle all of this alone, since I usually have a farm hand. My last one was lazy, and complained that he was under-payed. I refused to increase his wages, so he walked out two weeks ago. I told my friend at the feed mill in town, and gave him my phone number in case anyone enquired.

Earlier today I got a phone call from a possible helper. He said that his name is James Hatfield. He has a sexy bass voice. I gave him the directions to my farm, and about 15 minutes later he showed up in a rattletrap car. When he got out of his car I was surprised to see a six foot, handsome and muscular guy. His muscles weren’t from working out in a health club, but from doing hard farm labor. He looked to be about my age.

I invited him in, and offered him a beer, which he gladly accepted. My farmhouse is a typical one, with three bedrooms, and a bath in the hall. I asked why he was looking for work and he explained that his former boss was a grouchy old man, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He was somewhat shy, which surprised me. It also appeared that he had not attended school after the eighth grade.

I asked him how much he was asking, and that in addition to his pay, I would offer room and board. He replied that $500 a week would be fine, and that he didn’t mind working all seven days.

I thought this a just amount, and told him that he was hired, with a month’s probation time to see how he would work out.

“You can move in now if you want,” I said.

He went to his car and brought in two old, beaten-up suitcases. I showed him to his room, which was next to mine. I explained that he would begin at 6 a.m., and that I get up at 5 and would have his breakfast ready. He asked if he could wash some dirty clothes and take a shower, and I told him to go ahead. Since it was getting near dinner time, I said that I would prepare pasta for the two of us. He was pleased.

I started preparing dinner, and shortly he appeared in the kitchen in nothing but a towel. “What a beautiful body,” I thought. I was again surprised, as I thought this a bit cheeky for some who had known me only a few minutes. I thought, “No shyness there.” I also noticed a decent bulge under his towel.

I served the pasta. He took a beer, while I drank my usual red wine. He continued wearing only his towel. I asked about his background. James explained that he was one of two children. He had a younger sister, who had married a successful businessman. She became a snob. John complained that she looked down on him for being a lowly farm hand. They hadn’t spoken in a number of years. Both of his parents died in an automobile crash, and left him no inheritance, because they were poor. His other relations lived across state, and he decided that he didn’t want to stay there. By 6 p.m. we finished dinner. I explained that I usually work on my book in my room at night, that I go to sleep at 9 p.m. and that he was free to watch TV if he wished. He said OK.

The next morning he came into the kitchen, wearing his shorts. I served a breakfast of freshly-squeezed orange juice, ham, eggs, and home fries. I told James that today’s task would be to mend fences. After breakfast he dressed, and we headed out. We stopped for lunch at noon, then back to work until 5 p.m.

I prepared a tuna casserole for dinner, we ate, and he went to take a shower. I went into my room to work, and shortly he came to my door strip-stake naked. “What is he trying to tell me,” I asked myself, "And what a whopper! I’m not gay-acting, nor had I made any effort to suggest sex.

“Man, you gave me some workout today. I have some sore muscles,” James explained.

“Well, I know how to give a good massage. If you want, lay down on my bed, and I’ll start.”

He nodded yes, and took a fast dive onto my bed. I told him to lay on his stomach first, since his back was probably the sorest. He did as told and I went to work on him.

“Wow, that’s really relaxing,” he moaned.

I decided to ask some more questions while kneading his muscles. “Do you have a girl friend,” I asked.

“No,” he answered. “I don’t want to spend any money on women. I’m saving to buy a farm of my own.” I didn’t pursue the subject any further, but found it curious. When I finished his back, I told him to roll over. And guess what? He had a huge erection! This is not unusual when guys get a massage.

I said, “Boy, you have a problem down there.”

He answered, I’ll take care of it when I go to bed.”

I got bold and said, “I can take care of the problem for you, with my mouth. By the expression on his face, it was his turn to be amazed.

He simply replied, “Sure, go ahead.”

I immediately swallowed his entire monster.

“Oh, my God. Nobody ever did that to me before. Most people can’t take it all like that.”

I noticed that he said “people” instead of women. I took that as a clue. Is he gay,” I pondered.

“Hell, I’m gonna like it here,” he said enthusiastically.

“Me too,” I answered. I had struck a gold mine. As I expected, with my superior technique, he came fast. He gave me a hardy thank you.

I asked, Tomorrow too?”

James replied, “That would be great. I’m on.”

And so it went. We became accustomed to our nightly ritual. I gave him the works–rimmed him, sucked his toes, which are very sensitive. I taught him how to push my head up and down on his dick, which he loved. He also learned not to come too soon, so as to enjoy the pleasure. Care to know how long he stayed with me?