Russell sped down the narrow two lane road, his hands griping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white. He was furious. Had been since last night when he had been to the barn dance the Hanks had each year. It had been a festive event, the way so many in the community came out. He and Cheryl had been there with Bailey, Matt and Susan hanging out like they had in their grade school years except for the fact Dillon wasn't a part of their group. Russell had made sure of that, or so he thought. Then Dillon showed up and the two of them found themselves outside, alone, and Dillon had tried to talk to Russell. At first Russell was going to hear him out but Cheryl had come out and he thought she had overhead some of what they had said and he freaked out, told Dillon to get away from him and stormed off taking Cheryl with him.

Dillon and he had been best friends since before starting school, their families having attended the same church, their fathers both farmers who sometimes helped each other. No one at school knew what happened in the eleventh grade, neither Dillon nor Russell would discuss it, but they had a falling out, and Russell froze Dillon out, refused to have anything to do with him and Dillon acquiesced without protest and for the next two years he drifted further and further from his other friends. By the time graduation arrived Dillon was a loner, having withdrawn from everyone, none more than Russell.

Russell slowed down when he saw the familiar blue truck, an old Ford, sitting on the side of the road at one of the fields Dillon and his dad farmed. Russell started to drive on by, but he looked across the field toward the back and saw Dillon standing down at the pond situated at the back of the property. There was a tractor and pan sitting to the side and Russell realized they were working on the pond, probably digging it back out after it filled with silt and debris over the years. He pulled down into the ditch, it wide and shallow with tall grass, and eased his truck down near Dillon's and parked. He climbed out and headed toward Dillon, his rage, the gnawing anger, the anxiousness, even fear, tore at him as he thought about what Dillon had been about to say, how he was admitting to what happened three years ago. Russell thought of that night lying on the floor in Dillon's room playing video games when he felt a foot touch him, then rub lightly over his ankle and calf. It aroused him, shamefully, the way Dillon had touched him and his fear of what was happening turned to anger and he had reacted calling Dillon a faggot and telling him to leave him alone, to stay away from him.

The field was so wet he had to walk along the perimeter road, every step fueling his fury, his mind racing with such mixed emotions. Over and over he saw in his mind Dillon trying to talk to him, saying he was sorry, and saying he had misread Russell's actions and the idea, the very notion of his actions giving Dillon the notion he displayed some homo desire scared the shit out of him, made him anxious and this fear made him angry. He told himself he wasn't a fag, he was straight, and he repeated it to himself as he moved toward Dillon.

Dillon was standing at the top of the dam, it reworked with a new slope and the drained pond had its bottom dug back down with the silt used on the dam and around the perimeter. Water stood about a foot deep in the bottom of the pond and the whole area was too wet to continue work. Dillon's boots were coated in a layer of red clay and his pants were wet and dirty up to the knee. He was looking over the pond, his ball cap pulled low over his eyes and he did not see Russell coming up behind him, didn't sense his presence until Russell yelled out.

"I told you to leave me alone" Russell exclaimed as he approached Dillon and he kept moving toward him with a fast gait.

"Russell?" Dillon responded, surprised to see him coming up. Dillon quickly saw the fury in Russell's face and began to back up but he was too slow, his confusion of Russell's anger and coming at him making him react with hesitation. "Russell, calm down...I'm sorry, okay. I told you the other night I was sorry."

"I'm not a faggot" Russell yelled and his voice broke as he said it, the fear mixing with the rage that drove him to rush Dillon. Dillon didn't try to resist him at first and Russell easily drove his body into Dillon's knocking him down on his back and the two of them rolled down the muddy bank of the pond. Dillon began to fight off Russell but they were covered in the slick red clay. They tried vainly to grasp one another, to hold the other down, but neither could get a firm grip of the other and they rolled on the muddy bank back and forth.

"Stop...stop...STOP Russell" Dillon exclaimed as he tried to hold Russell off but Russell got on top and grabbed him by the hair holding his head down, the side of his face pressed into the soft wet clay.

"You...y-y-y-o-o-ou...what did you want?" Russell said though his clinched jaw and he pushed down on Dillon. "Did you want to suck my dick? Did you want me to shove my dick up your ass...faggot?" Russell sneered as he leaned over close to Dillon, breathing hard with mud smeared on his face.

Dillon fought to get up for a moment then gave up and relaxed underneath Russell, the fight gone from him, although he never had much desire to fight Russell, not even as Russell wrestled him to the ground. He lay there breathing hard, snot and tears mixing with the red clay on his face and Russell still holding a fist full of his hair.

"Okay, Russell, yes...I wanted to suck your dick. Okay? Is that what you want to hear me say? To admit I wanted you, I would have done anything you wanted. I wanted you to...yeah I admit it...to fuck me. Is that what you want to hear?"

Russell let go of his hair and fell back on his butt looking down at Dillon shocked at the actual confession. The utterance of the words, to admit to those desires, and he looked down on Dillon with complete fear. He climbed up, not saying a word, and staggered back up the bank of the pond, slipping a few times, nearly falling, but he made it to the top and without a word, not even looking back, walked back to his truck.

Dillon lay on the ground, crying, almost afraid to move, but when he realized Russell was gone he eased up into a sitting position. He wiped the mud from his face as best he could and looked down at how messed up he had gotten. His clothes were covered in red mud, his shirt torn, several button missing and his head still hurt from Russell pulling his hair. He sat with his knees up, his arms wrapped around them, head down and cried, letting the frustrations and the anxieties melt away. He still felt scared, especially with his admission to Russell but he also felt relieved.

"Dillon! Son, what in the hell is going on?" his father said and Dillon looked up with surprise to see his father standing at the top of the dam. "I saw Russell and..."

"It's nothing. Just drop it okay dad. There's nothing to talk about" Dillon interrupted him looking up at his father and he saw how his father suddenly slouched and a pained look come over his face, but he was naturally stoic, and he nodded his head toward Dillon and looked off in the distance, his eyes focused on nothing as he tried to process what was happening. Dillon climbed to his feet and climbed the muddy bank. When he came up to his father they locked eyes for a brief moment and then began to walk back to their trucks parked at the road.

"Son, I don't know what is going on but if you need..."

"It's okay, dad. Everything will be okay" Dillon interrupting and the two of them walked the rest of the way in silence.


Russell lay in bed staring into the darkness, only the images in his mind visible to him, the image of Dillon looking at him approach, the image of him on the ground fighting back for such a short time and finally the image of him just lying there, tears streaming from his eyes. Through it all he heard Dillon's voice, over and over, repeating in his mind.

'I wanted to....is that what you want...I wanted you...I wanted you...to fuck me...'

It tore at his stomach, frustrated him, made him angry. He struggled to put it out of his mind, to forget it happened so he could get some sleep, but he couldn't let go, and he lay there, so frustrated, ashamed, and he let his mind relax, let himself reflect on the truth, reflect how it scared him that night so long ago, the way Dillon was acting on his desires and he, Russell, too afraid to do so. He had wanted Dillon to do something, felt the tension between them that had developed over the course of time, as they grew up, matured, and their sexual desires manifested themselves, and Russell fought to control them, didn't want to admit how he felt, knowing it wasn't what he was suppose to feel. He couldn't be gay, not in his family, and he had fought it, and with Dillon, he lashed out.

But he felt those longings, those desires and when Dillon had said he had wanted to suck his dick and take it in the ass, the idea of it flew up at him, made real by the confession, the putting it in words. He lay still, let his mind think of it, these sex acts between men and he felt the truth of his desires, how he had wanted Dillon, had thought of doing those things, only with him sucking dick and letting Dillon fuck him in the ass and he felt it, his arousal, his cock growing hard and he took it, stroked it, felt it grow fully erect in his fist. He stroked his cock slowly at first, then he let his frustrations, this mix of fear and anger, push him to stroke faster, slamming his fist down his cock and tears came to his eyes and trickled down the sides of his face as he masturbated, thinking of Dillon.


Spring turned into summer, the air grew hotter, more humid, and the crops grew tall. Russell drove around the perimeter of one field after the next checking them for worms and he let his mind wander in the quiet of his truck, radio turned off, the windows down letting the hot summer air blow through the cab. His t-shirt clung to his torso, back wet with sweat where he sat on the vinyl seat. He felt the sweat trickle down his sides from under arms. It was stifling hot, with the air so humid it made breathing difficult, but for Russell, it was calming, relaxing his body to the heat, feeling the way his skin sweated, and his muscles loose and warm. It was a brief respite from his constant frustration, this nagging at his core being, of living a lie, of looking at everyone with some kind of false fa├žade. He tried, he really tried to live as expected.

Watching the rows of soybeans pass by as he drove slowly along the narrow lane at the edge of the field, the tall grass dragging along the underside of his truck, he let a faint smile come to his face as he considered how he had done one thing right recently. Just one damn thing, but it was an important one. He had broken it off with Cheryl, ended a relationship that started in high school, one he thought would go the distance. They use to talk of marriage, settling down, having their own place and him helping his father increase the farm size, but through it all he felt like a liar, a total fraud and last weekend he had gone to her house and broken it off.

Russell had not seen Dillon since he accosted him at the pond some four months ago. It surprised him how easily Dillon had disappeared from his life, like he had vanished from the planet, but Russell knew he was still here, working with his own father, already increasing the size of their farm by buying the Hollis place over in Red Hill, adding another five hundred acres or so to their operation. Russell thought of Dillon often, wondered what he was doing and so many times, too many to count, he had picked up his phone, brought up Dillon's number with the intention of calling, of saying he was sorry, but it felt like he had done too much damage, the way he couldn't stop picturing Dillon on the ground, covered in mud, tears streaking his face, his confession rising up at Russell like a rebuke. He had really fucked it up and he didn't know what to do. He had thought about leaving, going off to some new place, starting his life over, but he didn't have the courage, or was it simply a matter of him knowing his place was here, on this land.

When he pulled back onto the highway and began to head home instead he decided to drive over to Madison's, the general store over in Beulah, and grab a drink and something to snack on since it was only mid-afternoon and he had nothing else to do.

He kept the windows down and eased along the narrow two lane highways looking at the familiar scenery, the fields, the pine stands, the narrow creeks with their banks over grown and he eventually came into Beulah, the community that had the area's elementary and middle school, Madison's general store, and five churches and he drove along the long narrow straight road into the center of the community where Highway 6 intersected the road he was on. Madison's sat on the northeast corner of the intersection and as he approached he instinctively slowed as he passed the school, even though it was summer and school was out.

Russell pulled into the parking lot and looked over at an old CJ7 sitting in front. The old Jeep was nicely refurbished, with all-terrain tires on larger wheels and a lift kit. He wondered if it belonged to someone in the community or to some guy passing through. As he walked to the store he strolled past the Jeep looking it over, the way the interior was refurbished, original except for the seats and the stereo in the dash. The sun reflected glaringly off the front windows and Russell had to squint as he entered the dimly lit interior of the old general store.

"Hey Russell. How's your father?" Evelyn Madison, Howard's wife, said who was behind the counter at the moment.

"Fine" Russell replied as he let his eyes fall on Dillon standing near the counter with a drink in hand. Dillon gave him a saddened look and cast his eyes down and Russell felt the slight, the way Dillon couldn't look at him and he noticed how Evelyn realized something was up between the two of them. Russell went over to the drink cooler and grabbed something to drink. He walked up to the counter and paid, glancing over at Dillon, noticing how he refused to look up at him.

"Dillon was just telling me about that Jeep he has bought" Evelyn said and it was obvious she was trying to break the silence between them.

"Yeah...well it is nice looking" Russell replied with a low voice; "well, I need to get going." He walked out of the store across the parking lot and he looked over at the Jeep, envious of Dillon buying something so frivolous on one hand, but so desirable on the other, and he felt the distance between them and how it was his fault. He wanted to go back inside and tell Dillon he was sorry, wanted to ask for his forgiveness but he thought of the way Dillon looked when he came in, the way he looked away refusing to look at him and he felt it best to leave. He opened the door and climbed into his truck and as he pulled the door closed he realized Dillon was standing close looking at him. He hadn't heard him come out of the store, hadn't heard his steps across the gravel lot behind him or realized he was standing right behind him when he got into his truck, his mind so preoccupied with the way things were he failed to see what was before him.

Russell sat there looking at Dillon, unable to say anything, the words not coming to him. Dillon just stood there for the longest time, his expression unreadable and when he looked away, stared off into the distance, Russell assumed Dillon would walk away. But he just stood there.

"Why do you hate me so?" Dillon finally asked.

Russell gripped the steering wheel tightly, clung to it as he pushed his body back against the seat straining to breathe, trying to reply with a calm normal voice. When he finally found his voice, it was hoarse, shaky and he struggled with each word.

"I don't hate you...I..." and he stammered to a stop. He held the steering wheel tightly up near the top and lowered his head down between his arms trying to breathe, trying to catch his breath and desperate to keep the tears from pooling up in his eyes. When he looked back up he saw a change in Dillon's countenance, a slight relaxation in his face and he was able to take a deep breath.

"Look...I'm sorry, about everything, the way I reacted, the way I had everyone ostracize you in high school and how I attacked you back in the spring. I'm sorry. I was just being an asshole" Russell said, the words pouring from him in rapid fire and when he finished talking he started his truck and pulled away quickly afraid to look at Dillon, afraid to see if Dillon had a look of scorn or if by some miracle a look of forgiveness.


Dillon was driving home, having driven all the way to Montgomery and back to get a part for the combine the local dealerships didn't have in stock. He was in the Jeep, top down, doors off and the drier air of fall felt good, even though the temperature was still in the eighties. He was on the rural two lane roads, not in a rush, just enjoying the drive. He thought about what Russell had said back in the summer, the way he had apologized then drove off not letting him reply and he didn't know what to think about it. He had hoped Russell would come around and maybe at the very least resume a friendship like they once shared but he didn't hear from him or see him after that day. The rest of the summer passed quickly and the fall had been busy with the harvest underway and he tried not to think too often on how things had turned out between Russell and him.

It was Saturday afternoon and he knew when he got back he needed to get the combine repaired and ready to begin again with their harvest on Monday morning. He thought about how long it'd take him to get it back together and worried he had taken too long with his excursion since he hoped to do the repair that afternoon. He turned onto the narrow lane that led to home and was shifting up to fourth when he saw Russell's truck on the shoulder of the road up ahead.

As he approached he saw Russell sitting on the ground leaning against the side of the truck. The jack was under the rear but it wasn't jacked up enough to lift the rear of the truck. He started to keep going, to let Russell deal with his own flat but he couldn't do it and he pulled past Russell and onto the shoulder in front of the truck. He sat for a brief moment thinking this was a mistake but he took a deep breath and climbed out. He cut between their vehicles and down into the ditch and approached Russell who was still sitting and Dillon quickly realized he was holding one hand that was bleeding.

"What did you do?" Dillon asked.

"I let the fucking tire iron slip and it stabbed into my palm. I can't seem to do anything right lately" Russell replied as he looked up, an expression of relief on his face. He held his hand out for Dillon to see the deep stab wound which continued to bleed.

"Damn, that looks bad" Dillon said.

"I think it looks worse than it is" Russell said as he stood up slowly.

"I'll change that flat" Dillon said as he moved down and finished loosening the lug nuts. Russell didn't say anything at first, just stood back and watched as Dillon got the tire removed and the spare put in place and lug nuts tightened. When Dillon lowered the jack they saw the flat was low on air.

"Well fuck me" Russell uttered and he suddenly regretted the phrase, the implications and he stammered as he continued, "listen thanks, I appreciate it. You should have drove on by and left my ass here."

"I thought about it" Dillon admitted and for the first time the two of them smiled with each other. "You don't need to drive on that tire too much or you'll mess it up. Why don't you drive on down to my place. I have an air compressor in the shed."

"Your place?" Russell asked.

"I bought the Simon's place, the old farm house that's on the right just before the creek."

"I remember the place. I just didn't know you had it now."

"I wouldn't expect you to know" Dillon replied and the insinuation cut Russell. "Come on, follow me and we can air up that tire and if you want I got some bandages you can put on that hand."

Russell just nodded and followed Dillon to the driver's side of their vehicles and he watched Dillon climb up into his Jeep and start it before he got into his truck wondering if Dillon would drive off leaving him on the side of the road if given the opportunity, but Dillon turned in his seat and waited.


It was obvious Dillon had just moved in for boxes sat on the back porch, the windows had no curtains or blinds and the grass was grown up, in need of mowing. The farm house was small, a single story structure with a full width porch on the back and a small porch on the front. Positioned behind the house was a carport and a shed at the back of the yard and Dillon pulled down to the shed and was unlocking the door when Russell pulled up next to him. It only took a minute to air up the rear tire and Russell thanked him and started for the cab of his truck.

"Aren't you going to bandage that hand before you leave?" Dillon asked.

"I don't want to be a bother...I mean...I can wait till I get home."

"Don't be silly. Come on up to the house and you can bandage it now."

Russell followed Dillon across the rear drive, up on the porch and into the house.

"Watch your step, for there are still boxes everywhere."

"So you really have just moved in."

"Yeah and as you can see I have to get furniture but I have my bed and the kitchen has enough for me to be able to use it and I have the bathroom set up so my medical supplies are where I can find them. Go over and wash that hand while I get everything."

Russell was at the kitchen sink drying his hand with a paper towel when Dillon came back into the room and set the small kit down.

"Let me see it" Dillon said and Russell held his hand out. The touch of Dillon's hand against his own was warm, gentle, the way Dillon held it, palm turned upward and he gently wiped the paper towel over it, completely drying its surface. Russell flinched when the paper towel touched the open wound.


"It's okay, just a bit tender."

Russell watched as Dillon applied the ointment and he raised his eyes up to Dillon's face, the angular features, the narrow nose over the thin lips, the strong jaw line and his eyes in slight shadow, the deep brown color even darker in appearance and he saw the concentration on Dillon's face, the way he was concentrating on his every move, intently, gently applying the bandage.



"I'm really sorry... I really fucked up everything."

Dillon looked up as he pressed the last strip of tape down, his fingers moving from the end of the tape and over the calloused palm.

Russell looked at Dillon, felt the way Dillon's fingers stroked over the palm of his hand and he didn't pull away, let Dillon stroke his palm and suddenly he began to talk, to spill out how he had been so stupid, so wrong to lash out at Dillon when he had the same thoughts. He told Dillon everything and Dillon held his hand gently in his own and listened, listened to everything Russell had to say till he finally fell silent and his eyes were cast to the floor.

The room was totally silent, neither saying anything for a long time, and Russell kept his eyes down turned to the floor, a mixture of emotions making him feel so conflicted. He wanted to run, to turn and leave before Dillon said anything. Dillon was going to call him out, the hypocrisy of it all and he started to pull away when Dillon held his wrist stopping him.

"Is that the honest truth?" Dillon asked his voice so low that Russell barely heard him. Russell nodded and he felt Dillon let his wrist go and he braced for the reprimand he knew was coming. Instead he felt Dillon's hand brush his cheek, softly, and he looked up and saw Dillon smiling at him, a relaxed smile, one of contentment. Dillon leaned toward him and he closed the distance bringing their lips together, gently at first but suddenly Russell wanted Dillon more than ever before, his desire so great he no longer cared about how it would look to his parents, his friends, or to anyone else and he hugged Dillon close to his body.

They were reckless, clumsy, pulling at each other's clothes, trying to maintain physical contact. Dillon led Russell to his bedroom, their clothes dropped to the floor as they went till they were naked. They had seen each other naked before, but not like this, both so aroused, and Russell reached out and took Dillon in his hand, felt the girth of it and he stroked its length, slowly, feeling every inch, the skin so soft and the core so rigid, so hard and Dillon pumped his hips pushing his cock through Russell's fist. Russell pushed Dillon down on to his bed and he dropped to his knees, down between Dillon's legs and pushed up between them feeling them rub his torso and when he took Dillon's cock, held it up and brought his mouth down over it the legs tightened against his body. Russell was rough, his teeth scraped Dillon's cock but it aroused Dillon quickly, the sensations on his cock and he ran his hands through Russell's blond hair, letting the silky fibers slip between his fingers.

"Russell...that feels so good" Dillon whispered and Russell moved down his cock once again.

Dillon felt his need rise up quickly, this moment so pleasurable, it with Russell and he pushed Russell off his cock wanting this to last a little longer. Russell took Dillon by his lower legs and helped him move around on the bed and he followed him, moved up on the bed with him climbing over his body till he was sitting on Dillon's waist feeling Dillon's hard cock press against his ass and he ground his ass down as he leaned over and kissed Dillon.

Dillon felt the way Russell move over him, felt the way Russell pressed his body down on him and his cock ached with need and became wet, the head slick with his pre-cum.

"Lie still...okay?" Russell whispered in his ear as he nipped the ear lobe. Dillon watched Russell sit up, his muscular body flexed up hard, every muscle evident, and he watched him reach back and picked up his cock, hold it up and let his ass rub over the head. Russell felt it touch him, press against him and he moved his ass till Dillon was pressing hard to his hole and he eased down on it. Dillon watched as Russell lowered his body down, stretched his hole open and Dillon watched his cock disappear into Russell. Russell eased his ass down the length of Dillon's shaft, let it stretch him open and sink into his hole till he was all the way down sitting on Dillon hips. He rose up and back down, and he did it again and again and again, riding Dillon's cock, fucking his ass on it, faster and faster till the bed squeaked and rocked beneath them. Dillon took Russell's cock, stroking it in rhythm with his fuck. The room grew hot, their breathing rapid, sucking in air as they fucked, Russell riding Dillon roughly, his hole loosened, taking the hard cock in his ass easily. Russell kept up his pace, fast, riding Dillon hard till he was breathing was labored, and Dillon reached up and wrapped his arms around his body and rolled him over onto his back. Dillon moved on top, slipped down between Russell's legs and began to fuck, to drive his cock into him hard, his hips slapping against Russell's ass. He fucked with a rapid pace, his cock aching to explode and he pushed into Russell with short jabbing thrusts till he was pumping his load deep into him.

Dillon collapsed onto of Russell, his breathing still labored. Russell held him, stroked his back, it slick and hot to the touch.

"Thanks" Russell whispered.

When Dillon sat up he rolled over to Russell's side and reached down for his cock and found it flaccid, slimy with cum, for he had cum while being fucked.

"Sorry but you made me cum when you were fucking me so hard" Russell said and they looked at each other and for a brief moment they just stared at each other not saying anything. Then they began to laugh.



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