The first apple of the season was a surprise. It hung there, a solitary red jewel amidst the sea of green leaves. I plucked it gently, feeling the cool weight in my palm. It was a simple act that had been repeated by countless others before me, yet the crunch of the fruit echoed through the quiet orchard as if it were a declaration.
Mr. Jenkins, the owner of the orchard, had given me a brief tour when I arrived. His eyes had crinkled with amusement at my city-born ignorance. "You'll get the hang of it," he'd said, “your job is to pick the remaining apples that couldn’t be shaken from the trees during the harvest. It’ll be a lot of ladder work but it’s not hard, just time consuming,” he said, his voice as rough as the bark on the ancient trees that surrounded us. "Just make sure to watch out for the wasps. They get a bit protective this time of year."
"Yep, I guess they do," I responded, thinking about the consequences of being stung.
I was twenty-two and needed money to go travelling, and this short-term job was an unexpected opportunity to enjoy the weather and earn some decent cash. Mr. Jenkins was a nice guy with a good sense of humour, and he seemed to like me. Why? I wasn't sure as he had only just met me, but he went out of his way to make me feel welcome. I was provided with accommodation in an outbuilding behind the barn. Not a lavish place but very functional and clean with a large bed, a comfortable chair and a kitchen area.
Mr. Jenkins was a man in his forties, tall and lanky with a thatch of brown hair that stuck out in random directions and a pair of dungarees that looked like they'd seen better days as he helped me unpack my things. "You've got good taste," he said, holding up a shirt with a nod of approval. "But you're gonna need sturdier stuff for working out here. These fancy clothes won't last long with the branches and the sun."
"Don't worry, I have lots of T-shirts and shorts, so I should be okay," I replied, noting that his eyes lingered on my underwear at the bottom of my bag.
I blushed a little as he picked a pair up. "Fruit of the Loom," he read, "Heard of them but never seen them in the flesh before," he mused, his rough thumb tracing the embroidered logo. "You're a real tighty whities lad from the city, aren't you? I prefer Hanes briefs myself."
"It's just what I prefer," I mumbled, trying to ignore the heat rising to my cheeks.
He chuckled, “I see,” tossing the tighty whities back into my bag. "Well, suit yourself," he said, slapping me on the shoulder. "But I've got some old shirts you can borrow if you like. They're a bit big, but they'll keep the sun off your back," as he walked out of the room, disappearing round the corner.
The next day dawned hot and sticky. I pulled on a pair of baggy shorts and set to work. The orchard was vast, stretching out in neat rows as far as the eye could see. The apples hung tantalizingly out of reach, a canvas of reds and greens against the endless blue sky. I had to climb the wooden ladders that leaned precariously against the trunks, stretching my arms to their limits to snatch the ripest ones.
As the sun climbed higher, my shirt clung to my back with sweat, and I was sort of aware my shorts had sagged, revealing the waistband of my tighty whities, but I didn't care, and I didn't think it a problem when I made a fashion statement.
The air was thick with the scent of apple blossoms and the buzzing of bees, but it was the occasional glance from Mr. Jenkins that made me feel most exposed.
Mr Jenkins had been keeping a closer eye on me than the other workers looking after the apples in the cider press, which was fine by me. I was feeling hot and a little bothered as I reached for a particularly plump apple, and the sweat caused my t-shirt to stick to my sweaty back, revealing how much my shorts were sagging. It didn’t help that my shorts were marginally too big because I had lost weight over the summer, but I realised they were halfway down over my ass, revealing the white cotton fabric of my tighty whities more than I would normally allow.
"It’s turned out nice today," Mr Jenkins said as he looked up at me.
I nodded, focused on my task and avoided his gaze. "Yeah, perfect for apple picking," I said.
"I wasn't referring to the weather, Steve," Mr Jenkins replied. "I was talking about the view I am enjoying right now."
I looked down, blushing furiously, trying to pull my shorts up, but it was too late. He had seen everything. "Don't know why you bother wearing shorts if you wear them like that. You might as well take them off for the good they are doing or put an ass in them. Up to you."
His tone was light, but the way his eyes lingered on me made my stomach flip. I didn't know how to respond, so I just laughed nervously and turned back to the tree, wondering if he liked how I looked.
"It's a fashion trend, I guess," I finally said, hoping to play it off. "All the guys in the city say it's cool. Do you think it's cool?"
Mr Jenkins chuckled, the sound echoing through the orchard. "Cool or not, it's a sight to see." His eyes didn't leave me, and the intensity made me feel both self-conscious and oddly...flattered? I didn't know why his words affected me like that, but I couldn't deny the flutter in my chest.
"You would probably look cooler if you didn't wear them, the shorts that is."
I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, and I hoped he didn't notice the way my breath caught. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I said, trying to keep my voice light as I returned my attention to the apples that remained in the tree, the shaking process.
Mr Jenkins leaned against the ladder, his eyes never leaving my body. "You know, it's pretty hot out here and it's only the two of us in the orchard, so if you wanted to strip off to be cooler, I wouldn't mind."
I froze, the apple I had just picked slipping from my grasp, landing with a thud on the ground. "What do you mean?"
Mr Jenkins shrugged, his gaze still lingering. "I just meant that if you're uncomfortable in those shorts, you could always just work in your tighty whities. No one's gonna complain. Well, I certainly won’t since I’m the only other person here."
I felt a strange mix of embarrassment and excitement, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. "That would be very naughty," I said, trying to make a joke of it. I didn't know if Mr Jenkins was actually serious, but the way his eyes darkened made me think he might be. Was he chatting me up, I wondered?
He took a step closer, his hand resting on the ladder rung just below mine. "Naughty can be fun," he said, his voice low and gruff. “You can’t always be a good boy, you know.”
"Are you joking with me, Mr Jenkins?" I ask, looking down at him.
"Call me Tim, we're not so formal around here and... no, I'm not joking with you. When I was younger, you would find me naked playing here, even now on hot days, you will find me in my Hanes briefs.”
"Oh, I see. What, even now?” I replied, wondering what he would look like in his Hanes briefs.
“Even now I might get naked amongst the trees and sunbathe,” he declared with a smile on his face. “Would you like to be naughty, Steve, because I can be very naughty sometimes when I want to be.”
Tim's gaze drifted from my face to my bare legs and back up to my eyes. "Go on, take a leap of faith, Steve," he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "You'll be cooler, and it'll give us something to talk about during breaks, and I also have ways to deal with naughty young men you might enjoy."
The heat of the day seemed to double as I contemplated his words. I'd never been in a situation like this before, and I wasn't sure if I was reading the signals right. But the way he looked at me, the way he said 'naughty' with a glint in his eye, made me want to find out.
Feeling confident with my decision, I pushed the waistband of my shorts down, feeling the fabric slide over my hips and down my legs until they pooled around my ankles. I looked down at Tim, my heart racing, and asked, "How's that?"
"That’s m’boy, but probably better if you kick them off," Tim declared.
I hesitated for a moment, then smiled at Tim, stepping out of my shorts. The hot breeze kissed my bare skin, sending goosebumps rushing over me as I let them drop to the ground, landing by his feet.
"How's this now?" I demanded.
Tim's eyes took in the view, lingering on my tighty whities. "Perfect," he murmured. "Just perfect, but it could be better."
"Better?" I questioned, my heart racing. "How?"
"Perhaps you should take your t-shirt off and drop it to me.
I looked at him with surprise, my heart racing faster. "Wouldn't that be very naughty to do that?" I questioned.
Tim leaned against the ladder, his eyes never leaving mine. "Steve, we're out here in the middle of an orchard. No one's going to see. Besides, it's hot. Go on, be wild and impetuous."
I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin. The idea of being so exposed was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. But something about Tim's confidence made me want to trust him. So, I lifted my t-shirt over my head and tossed it down to him.
"Is that better now?" I playfully asked him.
Tim caught my shirt with a grin, his eyes never leaving my body. "Much better," he said, his gaze lingering on my bare chest before meeting my eyes. "Now that you're cooler, maybe you could show me some of that naughtiness you've got hidden in those tighty whities by turning around so I can see."
“I knew it, I knew it,” I said to myself as I felt my face flush as I slowly twisted on the ladder, giving him a full view of my front. The fabric of my tighty whities pulled tight across my growing arousal, leaving little to the imagination.
"Very nice to see a young man looking good in his tighty whities and….looking so aroused," Tim said, his voice a little gruffer than before. "But I think you've got more to show me from what I can see."
"I'm not sure I understand, Tim?"
Tim's smirk grew wider as he continued to look up. "You said you could be very naughty sometimes, Steve. I'd like to see you being naughty. I want to watch you naked and wank at the top of the ladder." He paused for a moment, then added, "And then perhaps afterwards I'd like to help you with some adult discipline for being so naughty."
I felt a thrill of excitement at his words, my breath hitching in my throat. The idea of being disciplined by Tim was something I had never considered before, but it was strangely appealing. "Okay," I said, my voice quivering slightly as I slipped my fingers under the waistband of my tighty whities.
Slowly, oh so slowly, I pushed the fabric down, feeling the air hit my skin as I revealed myself to him. My cock sprang free, bobbing with excitement as the fabric fell away. The world seemed to hold its breath as I stepped out of the underwear, leaving them to float to the ground like a discarded secret.
Tim caught them before they hit the dusty earth, holding them up to his nose and inhaling deeply. The scent of me, my arousal, filled the air between us, as he asked, "wank for me, I want to watch you up there, shoot your load."
Feeling the heat of the day and his eyes on me, I started to stroke my cock, feeling it thicken and lengthen in my hand as I took in the view of Tim watching me intently. His hand had strayed to his crotch, and he was giving himself a gentle squeeze, his gaze never leaving my body.
I took my time, savouring the sensation of the sun on my skin and the coolness of the shade from the apple tree above. I closed my eyes, picturing Tim's rough hands on me, his calloused fingers wrapping around my cock and guiding me. I stroked slowly, letting the tension build, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
The sound of my hand sliding along my shaft filled the silence, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hum of a tractor. The scent of apples and earth mixed with my musk, creating a heady aroma that only served to heighten my arousal.
I could feel myself getting closer, my balls tightening and my cock pulsing with the promise of release. I looked down at Tim, his eyes dark and hungry as he watched me, his hand moving faster in his dungarees. "Cum for me, Steve," he rumbled, his voice thick with desire. "I want to see you cum."
"I'm cumming, are you ready?" and with a final, slow stroke, I gave into the pleasure, knowing I was about to climax, my body arching as I shot a stream of cum into the air. It landed close to Tim, but I knew I wasn't finished yet as I continued to pump more seed, trying to aim it at Tim in the hope of splashing him.
More cum poured from my cock and as it descended towards the ground, Tim tried to catch some but failed. Returning his gaze to me, I felt his eyes burning into my soul as I came down from my high. "That was beautiful to watch, very good but very naughty of you," he said, his voice a low purr. "Now, perhaps you can come down and join me to discuss that discipline issue I mentioned."
I stepped down from the ladder, my legs feeling like jelly, my cock still semi-hard as I approached him. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, but I knew that whatever Tim had in mind, I wanted it. I had never felt so alive, so desired.
Tim's hand found its way to my bare ass, giving it a firm squeeze. "You're a naughty boy," he murmured, his thumb brushing against the crevice of my cheeks. "And naughty boys need to be taught a lesson sometimes, don't they?"
I nodded, my breath coming in short pants as his grip tightened. "What kind of lesson, Tim?" I asked, my voice trembling with anticipation.
He leaned in close, his breath hot on my ear. "A very intimate one," he whispered.
I nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement and fear at what might come next. Tim picked up my shirt, shorts and tighty whities, his eyes never leaving me. "Take a break and you won't need these either," he said. "I'll come find you when it's time."
I nodded, my heart racing as I watched him walk away, his hand still adjusting his crotch as I sat down in the grass and gently played with some cum that was still dribbling from my cock. The orchard was silent except for the occasional buzz of a bee, my thoughts racing with anticipation. I lay back, letting the sun warm my naked body, and let myself drift into a state of relaxation. The grass was prickly on my skin, but the coolness of the earth beneath me was a welcome contrast to the heat above.
Tim found me a short while later, his eyes taking in my bare form with a hunger that sent shivers down my spine. "It's time," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. He held out his hand to help me up, and I took it, feeling the calloused skin of his palm against mine.
He led me into the cool shade of the barn, and I couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement and fear as he closed the door behind us. The darkness inside was pierced only by the slits of light that shone through the wooden boards. The air was heavy with the scent of hay and dust, a stark contrast to the sweetness of the orchard.
Tim led me to a sturdy wooden table in the centre of the barn. There was a cloth rag and a bottle of what smelled like apple cider vinegar. "Lie down on your back," he instructed, his voice low and serious.
I did as he asked, my cock still half-hard as I stretched out on the table, my nakedness feeling more exposed than ever. Tim poured the contents of the cider vinegar onto the cloth rag and began to wipe me down, his movements gentle but firm as he cleaned away my sweat and dust.
Tim looked at me with a smile that seemed to hold a universe of secrets. "Your body is a masterpiece, Steve," he began, his voice low and contemplative as he continued to wipe me down. "It's a canvas of youth and strength, with lines that tell the story of your life so far."
He stepped closer, his eyes tracing the contours of my chest and abs, the muscles that had been honed from days of manual labour. "These abs," he said, his hand hovering just above my skin, "they're like a sculpture, each ridge and valley telling a story of hard work and dedication." His finger finally made contact, tracing a line down to my navel before continuing lower.
"And these hips," he murmured, his thumbs brushing over my pelvic bones, "so firm and defined, like they're made for holding on to." His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of me, his gaze lingering on the V-line that pointed down to my cock. "And your cock," he said, his voice thick with lust, "it's like a piece of fruit, ripe and ready for the picking with a protective bush that is just perfect and manly, which I like."
The coolness of the vinegar was a shock against my skin as he continued to wipe me down, pouring extra liquid to keep the cloth rag wet enough, but as my body absorbed the cider vinegar, it soon gave way to a pleasant tingle, creating a warmth that was new and unexpected. He took his time, his eyes never leaving my face as he worked. "This is your first time, isn't it?" he asked, his voice softer now.
"Yes," I murmured, my eyes locked on his. "My first time doing...this."
He nodded, his hand lingering on my thigh. "I want you to know that I'm not going to hurt you," he said, his thumb tracing small circles on my skin. "But you need to be taught a lesson."
"Okay, Tim," I said, my voice shaking a little.
He moved closer, his hand sliding up my thigh until it reached my cock. He began to stroke me gently, his other hand playing with the cheeks of my ass. "You're going to get a spanking, Steve," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "But it's not going to be just any spanking."
"What do you mean?" I gulped, my cock responding to his touch despite my nerves.
"It's going to be with this," he said, picking up a wooden paddle from the side of the table. It had holes drilled in it, and I could feel the coolness of the wood as he ran it over my skin. "It'll sting, but it'll also feel good."
"How can it feel good?" I questioned. “It’s going to hurt; it has to hurt.”
Tim leaned over me, his breath hot on my ear. "Trust me, Steve," he whispered. "You're going to enjoy it, and the cider vinegar will make a difference, trust me. Now, turn over onto all fours."
Once I was in position, he began to spank me, starting lightly, each smack echoing in the emptiness of the barn. The sting grew with each strike, my body tensing up as the pain built. But as he promised, the pain morphed into something else, something warm and pulsing that made my cock throb with pleasure.
The smack of wood on skin grew rhythmic, a symphony of sensation that had me gasping and wriggling on the table. Tim's hand was relentless, each strike of the paddle sending waves of pleasure through me. I could feel my cock swelling, my body begging for release. Tim was right, I was enjoying my punishment.
"You're taking your first lesson well," Tim murmured, his hand moving to my back to rub soothing circles between smacks. "But we're not done yet."
I nodded; my eyes squeezed shut as I braced myself for more. The paddle connected with my ass again, and I couldn't help but let out a low moan. The sound seemed to spur Tim on, his strokes becoming harder, faster. The pain was intense, but it was also a strange kind of bliss.
Suddenly, he stopped, and I felt his hand on my back, gently stroking the skin he had just been punishing. "Alright, that's enough," he said. "You've learned your lesson."
I collapsed onto the table, my body shaking with the aftermath of pleasure and pain. Tim leaned over me, his eyes searching my face for any signs of distress, but all I felt was a deep, intense craving for more.
"Turn over," he said, his voice gentle but firm.
As I complied, I saw the lust in his eyes and knew he wasn't finished with me. He pulled me to the edge of the table, and I felt his hand wrap around my cock, stroking me with the same intensity he had used to spank me. The feeling was exquisite, and I knew I wouldn't last long.
Tim leaned in; his breath hot against my neck. "You're going to cum for me now, Steve," he growled. "I want to see you lose control."
I nodded, my body responding to his command. He stroked me harder, his grip tightening as I neared the brink. I could feel the cum building, ready to spurt out in a hot, sticky mess.
With a final, desperate thrust of his hand, I came, my body arching off the table as ropes of cum shot through the air, landing on Tim's chest and face. He watched me with a smug satisfaction, the paddle resting on his shoulder like a trophy.
"Good boy," he said, his voice gruff. "Very, very good."
He leaned in to kiss me, the taste of apple cider vinegar on his lips mixing with the salt of my sweat. It was unlike any kiss I had ever experienced, a claiming of power and submission wrapped in one fiery embrace.
When we pulled apart, Tim wiped the cum from his face with the back of his hand and grinned. "Now, let's get you cleaned up," he said, his tone back to the easy camaraderie of our earlier time at the orchard as he unclipped his dungarees, allowing them to drop to reveal his Hanes briefs.
I lay back on the table, knowing what Tim had planned as he pushed his Hanes briefs down.
"Just relax and enjoy," he instructed.
I did as I was told, my heart racing as I watched him stroke his cock. The anticipation was almost too much to bear. The first stream of piss hit my groin, warm and slightly bitter. I closed my eyes as I felt his stream get stronger. It was a strange sensation, but his flow had become a gush, hitting my face and mouth, and I found myself swallowing it down, eager for more.
Tim's hand worked faster, the warmth of his piss spilling over my chest and abs, mixing with the sticky remnants of my cum. The scent of apple cider vinegar mingled with the earthy smell of his piss, creating a scent that was oddly erotic. He grunted with pleasure, his stream growing stronger as I took it all in, my body feeling both humiliated and thrilled at the same time.
As he finished, I licked my lips, the taste lingering on my tongue. "Good boy," he murmured, panting slightly. He took a cloth and wiped my face clean before helping me down from the table. "Now, let's get you dressed," he said, his voice gentle as he pulled up his Hanes briefs and secured his dungarees ready for work.
He handed me my shorts and t-shirt, and I slipped them on, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction and belonging as I pulled the fabric over my sticky skin. It was as if this moment had sealed some kind of bond between us, an unspoken understanding that we shared a secret that no one else in the world could ever know. "What about my tighty whities?" I asked.
"They're in my pocket and I will give them to you later," he answered with a grin. "Don't think you are finished for the day, young man," as we walked back into the orchard.
The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the rows of trees as I wondered what Tim had planned, as the other workers were packing up for the day, none of them aware of the intimate lesson I had just received.
To Be Continued......
