Brodie came home for the summer, looking forward to a break from college, especially since he took classes last summer to keep up in his duel majors. He spent the first couple of days just relaxing around his home, enjoying his mother's home cooking and at times, just sitting outside in the old swing under the oak tree in the back yard. His father was doing some odd jobs around the farm, keeping himself busy, but the fields were planted and there was nothing for Brodie to do.

Brodie had been in the back yard when his dad drove up in his truck, window down as usual, no matter how hot the temperature, and asked if he wanted to ride with him over to the elevator. Brodie hadn't been to the grain elevator since his last summer at home, so he climbed into his dad's truck. As they turned off the main highway on to the narrower two lane secondary road, Brodie could see the tall structure as it towered over the flat lands of south Alabama. There were six concrete silos that were formed together, and a later steel silo addition on the end, that was only half as tall but twice the diameter. The receiving area tunneled through the structure where grain was unloaded down into a pit prior to being pumped up and into a silo. The weigh station was along a small wood frame building that held the main office on one end and seed sales warehouse on the other. A farmer would arrive, weigh the loaded truck, drive around into the receiving area, unload, pull back up to the scale and weigh the empty truck, check the day's price, determine whether to sell or store, in the hopes of a better price, and be on his way back to his field in less than twenty minutes.

As Brodie and his dad approached the elevator, he thought of all the times he had been here, riding with his dad or later, when he got his driver's license, coming alone, to dump wheat, soybeans, oats or corn. It was good to get to harvest time, the sense of completion for a particular crop, but it was bittersweet for Brodie, for it could also be the most trying time. The combine was a complex machine, with bearings, chains, belts, hydraulic hoses, and everything electronically monitored or controlled, every breakdown seemed to take hours to fix, and if the weather was working against them during harvest, if the rains came regularly, making the harvest difficult, with the combine bogging down frequently components staying damp or wet, the breakdowns seemed even worse. Brodie liked some aspects of farming, but not enough to overcome his desire to leave it, to pursue his real interest in industrial design. He would be a junior next fall, and felt like he was actually starting to understand the larger concepts, beginning to find the niche he favored, and begin to form a plan for his future. The one aspect of his future he couldn't bring himself to form a plan on was a personal one.

Ever since he had to take gym in the seventh grade and watched the other guys undress, looking at the differences between each of them, and when he was older and listened to his classmates joke about sex, about hooking up with one girl or another, he knew he was not like them. He remembered feeling frustrated and confused and worse, scared someone would look at him one day, look at his face when he was in gym or just hanging out with the guys and know his thoughts. Even on the bus he looked at the other guys, especially the older ones and wondered about them, as he tried not to stare at them.

At college this past year he had finally acted on his sexual desires; he had gone to the one gay bar in the college town to see what it was like. It was a small place on a side street on the proverbial wrong side of the tracks, which oddly enough, gave it a sense of safety for the guys who went there. He met several guys over the last year and had found the sex with them satisfying, meeting some inner need of connection with another person in an intimate way; a joining he didn't feel with any girl he had dated in high school. Now that he was home for the summer, he tried not to think about it, to just have a summer with family and worry about that when he got back to college in the fall.

They pulled up in the gravel area in front of the single story office and seed warehouse building and made their way inside. Brodie knew what to expect, the usual banter between farmers, the questions to Brodie about college and why he didn't want to be a farmer, or why he was smart not to be a farmer, and did he have a girlfriend, or was he just having a good time, which always brought a round of laughter from the men who worked there. As his father asked about the price of corn trying to determine whether to presale some of his crop or not, Brodie stood off to the side looking at the community board mounted on the wall announcing the usual church functions, or BBQ at the firehouse, or a missing bird dog. Then he spotted the help wanted post by the elevator, looking for someone to help clean up, work in the seed warehouse and other odd assignments. Without knowing why, he tore it down and went to the counter where the secretary, the daughter of one of the farmers, sat.

"Sally, this job you guys posted, is it still open?"

"I think so. Dad! Dad!" she rudely interrupted her father getting his attention.

"What is it Sal?!"

"Brodie wants to know if the job is still available."

Brodie's father looked around surprised as Sally's father's expression softened when he looked over at Brodie.

"Yeah, we're still looking for help. Not many around here want to do such a hard job and the boys on the farms around here don't have the time. We're looking for some evenings and it'll be long days when we're busy, but if you're interested Brodie, the job is yours."

"Great, I'll take it. I need something to keep me busy this summer" Brodie replied, seeing his father smile at his willingness to work, not realizing it was more a need to work, to keep himself busy, not to think about boys, about sex.

Brodie pulled into the parking lot in his five year old Civic at the grain elevator the following Monday just before seven and saw most of staff were already there. He meet with Jack, the manager about his schedule and how he would be working on rotation with four others and when they got busy with the early corn crop coming in, then they would be working overtime hours. For the next three weeks Brodie worked his shifts, coming home each day exhausted, his muscles aching from the manual labor he had grown unaccustomed, but after a hot shower, he had never felt better. He noticed in the mirror he had filled out the last year, and his five eleven body had a little more tone, more defined than ever before, even when he played football and baseball in high school. He was naturally very lean, almost skinny even though he worked out regularly, rode his bike on campus as much as possible. But now he noticed he was filling out some and the manual labor seemed to help. As he looked in the mirror he liked what he saw; his beard as it started to come in, not quite full, but as blonde as the hair on his head, the way his hair looked now that he had let it grow back out, having just been lax on getting to a barber shop and how he had put on enough weight to hide the bones along his shoulders that had been visible a couple of years ago. He felt more mature, less like a kid than he had when he first got to college when he thought that was the time he became a man.

He had only seen two of the other guys who worked with him in shifts. It was Ford, whom he had been two years ahead of in high school. He looked skinny but seeing him grab up the bags of seed and carry them with ease, made Brodie realized he was much stronger than he looked. Brodie thought Ford was cute, but he was so talkative, always running his mouth, making jokes, talking about the girls he went out with, what they did, it made Brodie realize Ford didn't do anything for him, wasn't someone he was attracted to, which he was actually glad about. One of the other guys was an older guy who everyone called Red. He had always been around the elevator for as long as Brodie could remember. The other guy remained a mystery until the corn harvest started and their responsibilities increased, and therefore, their hours.

The first day of Brodie's extended hours when he was to close down he showed up just prior to noon for the start of his shift. Parked in the parking lot was an old CJ Jeep, jacked up, oversized tires, with heavy bumpers and winches. Brodie knew the Jeep; it belonged to Wesley. Wesley King, who was the third of four sons and also grew up on a farm. He was three years older than Brodie and Brodie remembered how as a seventh grader he began to notice the older boy, the jet black hair, the dark skin and his dark brown eyes and how he was so much taller than his classmates, and the way he always seemed to be apart from everyone else. The next year Wesley still rode the bus for nearly the whole year until he had gotten that old truck; an old four wheel drive Dodge. Then Brodie only saw Wesley on rare occasions; in the library, or coming from the office, or at school functions, but he remembered how he was always so attractive, seemed so much more developed than other boys. Brodie remembered running into Wesley just before he left for college, seeing him pull up to the drive-in over in Oak Hill in the CJ, something he had just bought. Remembered how he was shirtless, his muscular upper body shiny from sweat, his dirty jeans and boots making him look rugged. Seeing the CJ now made Brodie have a knot in his stomach, wondering what the last two years had been like for Wesley; was he married, was he gaining weight, letting himself go?

Brodie was sent over to the elevator to help with the staging of trucks coming in, keeping the receiving area cleaned up, and assisting in the unloading. He assumed Wesley would be in the warehouse for many farmers getting their early corn out were going back with some late beans, therefore needing seed. It would be a long busy day. The grain trucks keep coming in till after nine o'clock, with farmers trying to get the crops out of the fields before rains forecast in three days arrived. Brodie was exhausted when the final truck of the night finally pulled out and headed for the scales to be weighed completing the processing. Most of the crew would be gone in a few minutes, but Jack came out and told Brodie they needed him to clean out a section of conveyors they had been having trouble with so tomorrow would go more smoothly.

"But I don't know those conveyors down there very well" pointing down through the grating into the pit where the offending conveyor was located. "Are you going to show me what needs to be done?"

"No, Wesley will be out shortly; he knows these conveyors as well as anyone. He'll be helping you."

Brodie was so tired he would have been anxious about working with Wesley but at the moment he just wanted to get the job done. He saw most of the lights go out at the warehouse and offices as a figure approached. As he got closer, Brodie saw it was Wesley and he was as well built as he remembered; may be even better. Wesley came into the light and for a moment Brodie forgot his fatigue. Wesley was dressed in jeans and a shirt with the sleeves torn off revealing his muscular arms. The old weather beaten cap had his black hair sticking out around the sides, thick and long. When he came up to Wesley, it was obvious how tall he was, four or five inches taller than Brodie.

"Hey Brodie, shitty job we've got ourselves; ya ready" his voice low, steady, unassuming.

"I guess. So how has things been Wesley?" Brodie asked as he stared up at the handsome face with its five o'clock shadow and a smear of dirt wiped across one cheek.

"Ok, I guess. You know how it is around here. Ya just work your ass off and get up the next day and do it again. How's college?"

"Good; I really enjoy it. It's nothing like high school."

"Goddamn, I hope not" and he shook his head like he knew more than he was saying. "What do you say we get busy with this shitty job and get out of here as fast as we can; I'm beat and have to be here tomorrow at noon again."

"Me too; so what do we need to do?"

"Follow me."

They went through a door, down a ships ladder to a lower level. There was a section of pipe with debris pushing out at the seams of an access hatch. Opening it up they saw it was partially blocked. They worked for over an hour cleaning it out, digging out the grain dust and putting it in buckets to carry up and dump outside. By the time they were done both were covered in the dust, sweat running lines through it. Outside they were so tired they just stood still for moment catching their breaths, being able to breathe without the masks for the first time since starting. Brodie had never felt so fatigued; his muscles ached and he was brain dead with exhaustion. He leaned against the concrete wall, head down, just breathing slow.

"Goddamn this fucking job" Brodie heard Wesley mutter as he slow walked in circles behind him. Then he was quiet for a minute or so, the only sound came from the ventilation fans still running on the elevator. When Brodie finally had the energy to stand up, he turned around and saw Wesley, in the light spilling out of the receiving bay, was shirtless. He broad shouldered muscular upper body, sweat streaked, covered in grain dust made Brodie stop and stare. He hadn't realized what he was doing until he noticed Wesley looking at him funny. When Brodie turned away and pretending to check the door again to make sure it was locked he heard Wesley come up closer.

"Brodie, there's a hose over behind the office. We can hose this shit off before getting in our vehicles to go home" Wesley said in a low voice.

"Ok" and Brodie followed Wesley, followed him through the receiving bay under the light were he could see him better, the way his shoulder blades moved as he walked, the way his waist narrowed, they way his jeans fit snug over his ass, the way it curved out, moving seductively as he walked. When they got behind the office Wesley pulled the hose out from the open crawlspace and hooked it to a hose bibb. He stood up and began to undo his jeans, noticing Brodie just standing there.

"Well, get out of your clothes unless you want to get them wet too."

Brodie had a moment of panic; a moment he realized Wesley was removing his jeans and was waiting on him to remove his clothes. He so wanted to see Wesley naked, see what he looked like out of those tight jeans; see his cock and what it looked like. Was its skin darker than the rest of him like some guys, or was it pale like the skin around it? Would he get an erection if he took off his clothes? He looked at Wesley staring back at him waiting, so Brodie pulled his shirt off, surprised at how much of the dust had gotten underneath it, covering him all over. As he undid the button of his jeans he saw Wesley kick off his shoes and lower his jeans. He saw the white briefs in a near glow in the dim light, especially against Wesley's dark skin. He saw the way the briefs bulged at the crotch, the beautiful form of his body, with its muscular tone, and he saw the tightness of his briefs, both by his high round ass and by his cock and balls that filled the front.

Instinctly, Brodie turned away from Wesley as he lowered his jeans afraid of showing too much in his boxer briefs; glad he had on gray ones in lieu of white ones. He wondered what he would like look like to Wesley; would he notice him, and his leaner build, not as well developed. Would he still see some kid three years younger, like he had been in school? The dim light outside the office created dark shadows, hid things, hid Brodie's stares.

Wesley turned on the hose and held it over his head, catching his breath at the cold water coming out. He stood up and holding his breath, let it run over his head, washing the grain dust from his hair, off his face, and off his body. The light was so dim it was hard to see, but when Wesley moved a little to the right, a beam of light hit him across the crotch and Brodie saw Wesley' cock; saw the way it was pulled over to the side, and the way his balls filled the lower part of his briefs. Wesley ran the hose and one hand down his chest, over his stomach, then down each leg. When he stood back up he held the hose out to Brodie.

"Will you spray off my back before you wash off?"

"Yeah" Brodie replied, his voice barely working. Brodie put his thumb over the hose's opening creating a hard spray as he aimed it at Wesley's back hosing all the dust off. He couldn't help himself, had to see them, as he ran the hose over his ass, wetting the back of his briefs again, seeing the flesh of his ass stick to the wet fabric. Brodie was barely breathing.

Brodie leaned over and washed his hair out, rubbed his face off with the water running over him, then he stood up and began to hose off his body, noticing Wesley was looking at him, watching him. He ran the hose and one hand down his chest, over his stomach, then down each leg. He held the hose over his should to rinse off his own back, afraid to ask for the same assistance.

"Here Brodie, let me help." Wesley came up and took the hose from him and began to rinse him off. "You've got a bunch of dust caught on your...waist" Wesley said, barely audible over the sound of the water running, as he hand brushed over Brodie's ass, touching him back there. Brodie held his breath, feeling Wesley's touch like an electric shock, and wanting him to keep touching him.

"That got it" and Wesley was going over to the building to turn off the water and put the hose back in the open crawlspace. Brodie picked up his clothes and waited for Wesley to get his gathered up. Wet and nearly naked they walked across the gravel lot to their vehicles, carrying their filthy clothes.

"Hey Brodie, you got to be here at noon tomorrow?"


"Well since we're a wet fucking mess, why don't you let me give you ride home and not mess up your car?"

"What about messing up your Jeep?"

Wesley almost laughed "You're fucking kidding right? It's a Jeep."

"You don't' mind?"

"Hell, Brodie it's on the way to my house."

"Thanks Wesley."

They tossed their clothes in the back and climbed into the Jeep in their wet briefs, knowing they probably would see no one on the roads at this hour of the night. Wesley started up the Jeep and let it idle a minute.

"Buckle up college boy."

Wesley wasn't reckless, but he wasn't slow either as he drove down the narrow two lane road. The night air was still warm, and even with the high humidity, they were drying quickly in the swirling air inside the Jeep.

"Hey, Brodie, is college hard?"

"Yes, some classes kick my butt, but it is not like high school. It is more like a challenge you want to conquer; you want to do better."

Wesley didn't respond to Brodie's answer and after a moment Brodie couldn't stand it.

"Why Wesley; are you thinking about going?"

"Maybe" his answer vague, almost defensive.

"That would be great Wesley. I mean if you don't like the work around here and there is something you want to study. It would let you leave this place."

"Leaving would be good" Wesley responded but Brodie had to struggle to hear him, he said it as if more to himself than to Brodie. They rode in silence for a while, turning on the highway Brodie lived on, having only a few miles to go.

"Wesley, you're not married or anything?"


"I bet you have to beat them off with a stick...I mean an eligible bachelor like you" Brodie's voice trailing off.

"Shit. Yeah, there are several looking for a husband, but..." and he didn't finish.

As they approached Brodie's home they kept stealing glances at each other, shifting uncomfortably in their seat. Brodie saw Wesley adjust his cock, push it down and to the side and he gripped the seat at his sides tightly, feeling his cock move in his briefs. Wesley pulled into the drive and pulled to the back and up to the carport where Brodie's parent's Ford sedan and pick up were parked. A light was left on for Brodie. Wesley didn't pull up close but stayed parked back in the edge of the light. Brodie got out and retrieved his clothes and started for the back door when he heard Wesley's voice.


Brodie stopped and came back to Wesley's side of the Jeep. When he got by Wesley he saw his face, partially concealed in shadow, and saw a sadness; the look of someone lost.

"Yeah, what is it?"

Wesley reached out and grabbed Brodie by the neck, pulled him close, kissed him on the mouth, firmly, pushing his tongue into Brodie's mouth, and without thinking Brodie pushed his tongue back, dueled with Wesley's. Then it was over, as Wesley let him go, let Brodie stand back up straight. Wesley backed up and took off, not saying anything else; not letting Brodie say anything.

Brodie stood in the drive unbelieving Wesley had just kissed him; kissed him on the mouth. That ruggedly handsome son of a bitch kissed him on the mouth, and he smiled. It was nice to be home. He eased into the house, took a hot shower and got in bed. He laid in bed thinking about Wesley, thinking about what he looked like in his wet briefs, his solid build, those broad shoulders, that narrow waist and the way he filled out those white briefs. He lay there with an erection, but he didn't get off; didn't jerk off; not this night. Finally he relaxed and the exhaustion he felt overwhelmed his excitement and he fell asleep. His mother, knowing he got in late, let him sleep in the next morning. When he got up he had to rush to eat and get ready. He told her how the night had been with the late clean up and how Wesley drove him home since they had to wash off before heading home. His mother thought it was nice of 'that Wesley boy' and Brodie agreed.

Wesley struggled to get up, not having slept well, having laid in bed thinking about what he had done. His fist would pound down on the bed in frustration, in fear. He fucked up and Brodie would probably be freaked out this morning, ready to tell someone. Goddamn it why couldn't he just keep to himself? As he took a shower and began to dress, the fight came back in him, the part of him that says fuck it, he can handle whatever happens. If Brodie decided to start some trouble he'd kick his ass, but if he was not freaked out, not upset, but rather in a good mood, that would mean everything was ok.

Wesley arrived about twenty till twelve and Brodie rushed out. Brodie had thrown on a muscle shirt, one that was tight on him and a pair of old jeans so worn and frayed his mother threatened to toss them out every time she saw them. She would have tossed them if she knew there was a hole right in the crotch, and one rip was just below his back pocket revealing the boxers he put on that morning. He wanted to push Wesley; see if he could get a response. When he got to the passenger side of the Jeep he saw Wesley looking at him, his gaze unreadable, but Brodie knew. Knew he had Wesley's attention. And Wesley had Brodie's for he had on a white t-shirt, sleeves rolled up and jeans that looked two sizes too small. His crotch bulge was really evident with the tightness of the jeans down his thighs. Brodie couldn't help but look Wesley over and when Wesley saw him staring at him, Brodie smiled.

"What are you grinning at, college boy?"

"Nothing...I'm not grinning at anything."

They didn't talk much on the way to work, and neither mentioned the kiss. At the elevator Jack put them to work quickly, for there was a line of trucks waiting to unload and the warehouse was busy as well. It was another long day, but this time nothing needed to be done at the end of their shifts, so they each headed home when they were done and failed to see each other leave.

The next day Brodie couldn't stand it and during their dinner break, grabbed his sandwiches out of the break room in the office area, and went in search of Wesley. Wesley wasn't in the warehouse and wasn't sitting in his Jeep so Brodie went over to the silos and found him sitting in the shade on the back side, leaning against the concrete wall, eating his dinner. Brodie strode up to him and sat down next to him not saying anything. Wesley had stopped eating and just watched as Brodie pulled out a sandwich and began to eat. Between bites Brodie finally turned to Wesley.

"Have you stopped talking to me?"


Brodie waited a moment, nodding his head as if he asked himself a question Wesley didn't hear.

"Are you going to talk to me about the other night?"

"Not really."

Brodie started to push, started to ask more questions, but he stopped himself, remembering what it had been like in high school, a rural county high school where there was less than fifty in a class, where everyone knew everyone else, or thought they did, and he realized it must be worse to be an adult living in this place, not having someone you can relate to, someone to come home to, someone you want to be intimate. He sat quietly, eating, glancing over to Wesley as he ate his dinner.


"Yeah, college boy, what is it?"

"You want to run into town Saturday night and grab something to eat?"

"I may have to work late."

"No, we both have the early shift on Saturday; Ford is working late on Saturday. You know they close the warehouse at two on Saturday."

"Yeah, I guess they do." Wesley didn't seem like he was going to answer as he wadded up the brown paper bag his dinner had been in, and got up on his feet. He stood at Brodie's feet as Brodie looked up at him, waiting.

"Ok. I'll pick you up at six" Wesley finally replied, and then he walked away to get back to work. Brodie sat there for a moment wondering what it was like to be so stoic; so closed up about your feelings. He knew his home life had been tough and he knew it had to be tough working at the elevator they way he did with the long hours and low pay. But he had kissed him so hard, so passionately, that Brodie wondered how lonely Wesley felt.

The rest of the week seemed to drag on forever, but each day at dinner Wesley and Brodie would go sit behind the silos, lean against the concrete wall and eat their dinners. Brodie didn't mention the kiss but began to ask about Wesley's desire to go to college. Wesley admitting he wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but he knew he wanted to get away; live somewhere different. Brodie wondered if college would be tough for Wesley and asked him about his grades in school. Wesley hesitated for a long time, making Brodie think the worse; then Wesley looked at Brodie and gave him a weak smile.

"I had a 3.95."

"You what!? You're kidding me. Why didn't you try for a scholarship, or something?"

"I didn't think...I didn't know...I...I assumed this is what was meant for me, what I was doomed to be; the same as my father, his father...hell even my brothers and sister are still around, working on some farm, or driving an hour to get to the mill, or..." and his voice trailed off as he held his head down.

"Fuck Wesley, you need to get out of here. Let's talk about this later, when we're not filthy with this grain dust, having to eat out of a bag and fan the damn gnats out of our faces."

Wesley looked over at Brodie and smiled.


Saturday finally arrived and Brodie was waiting on the back porch, dressed in his best jeans, black t-shirt and black military style boots. Something different he had thought when he was getting dressed. He heard the Jeep before he saw it pull around, and saw Wesley had on a nice white button down shirt and jeans. The shirt stretched nicely over his chest and tucked tightly into his jeans. All Brodie could think was 'before the night is out...'

Wesley drove to the only decent restaurant in Oak Hill, a diner in the middle of the small downtown. When they entered they recognized so many people it was ridiculous and Brodie knew it was going to be awkward. At their table one woman then another came over, flirting relentlessly with Wesley, which made Brodie nearly laugh out loud at the second one. Wesley kicked him under the table and politely dismissed her. They talked casually as they ate, Brodie telling Wesley what college was like, the different curriculums he should check out, and he hinted at the social life, at being able to 'find yourself' as he put it.

As soon as they finished eating, they left, needing to get away from the noise and all the people who wanted to stop and talk. Out on the sidewalk they walked slowly side by side heading toward the Jeep parked down the street.

"Wish there was something to do in this town" Brodie said.

"You want to just go back to my place and hang out?" Wesley asked as if it was the worst idea in the world, but Brodie gave him the biggest smile.


Brodie knew Wesley had rented the old Stanley house after Mrs. Stanley had passed away, but was unprepared for the way he had changed it. It was no longer solid white, but painted in a nice soft yellow with a mossy green trim. The front porch now had two nice chairs sitting on it and the yard was neatly trimmed with shrubs along the perimeter and in groupings in the yard. Inside, the rooms were painted warm colors and though sparsely furnished, it was all done well. Brodie went through the small house which was only a living room, a kitchen with room for a dining table, two small bedrooms and a bathroom. Brodie was surprised to see one bedroom was more of a study with books and a desk. Wesley said nothing as he followed Brodie through the house. Back in the kitchen Wesley pulled beer from the refrigerator, handing one to Brodie.

"Wesley, you've got the place looking nice."

"Thanks; but do me a favor and don't spread that around will ya."

"Ok; afraid the women will be knocking down your door?"

"Something like that," Wesley replied as he led Brodie to the living room. Brodie sat on the sofa as Wesley turned on his stereo. It was an old system but a nice one and soon rock music began to play. Wesley turned and started to go to the arm chair but Brodie moved over to let him sit next to him. They didn't talk at first just sipping their beers. Then Brodie couldn't take it any longer and he slid closer to Wesley, putting his hand on Wesley's thigh.


"Yeah" and he finally turned to look at Brodie. Brodie leaned over and kissed him, lightly, gently on the lips. Wesley suddenly became alive, grabbing Brodie by the back of the neck and kissing him back, passionately, pulling Brodie to him, pulling him into his lap, facing him. Wesley ran one hand under Brodie's t-shirt, up the smooth skin, feeling his warmth, feeling him push back against him. Wesley kissed down Brodie's neck, took his ear lobe in his mouth, tugged it lightly; ran his other hand over Brodie's head, through his hair, feeling the softness of it as his fingers ran through it. Wesley grabbed Brodie's t-shirt at the waist and pulled it off, revealing Brodie's lean body, its gentle soft toned features and the smooth fair skin. Wesley took Brodies hands and pulled them together and over his head, opening his arms out revealing the sparse hair under them. Wesley ran his nose through one pit, smelling Brodie's scent. Wesley moved to his nipples, and felt their erectness across his tongue. He bit one, tugging it with his teeth, making Brodie cry out and hug Wesley's head tightly to his chest. Wesley ran his hands around Brodie's back, down his lean frame and along the waist band of his jeans. Brodie began to unbutton Wesley's shirt, getting several of the top buttons undone, then working the tail out of his jeans, pulling it up and over Wesley's head. Brodie trapped Wesley's arms in the shirt and pulled it back behind him as he kissed Wesley, tongues dueling, then he ran his tongue, his lips over Wesley's smooth cheek, over to his ear, tonguing it, nibbling it, then he ran his nose through Wesley's black hair, smelled the clean smell of him and the softness of his hair. When he went back to kissing Wesley, Wesley easily over powered his hold of his arms, pulling free of Brodie and his shirt. He took Brodie around the waist and turned sideways laying Brodie on his back as he dropped to the floor beside the sofa. Wesley kissed Brodie forcefully, roughly, as if starved, as his hands worked to get Brodie's jeans undone, opened up, revealing the boxer briefs underneath. Wesley sat up, shifted around and pulled Brodie's jeans off, tossing them on the floor. He rubbed the bulge in Brodie's briefs, felt the hardness of his cock, the way it shifted under his hand stretching out to the side, pushing up on the fabric. Wesley ran his lips along its length, kissed the head, mouthed it; sucked on it through the fabric, working his mouth on it till the fabric was wet. Wesley sat up and saw Brodie with his eyes closed, lost in the moment. He took the waist band of the briefs and slid them down, watching as Brodie became completely naked, his cock laying there, head flared out, wet; his balls hanging loose in their sac, and the sparse hair over his cock, the rest of him bare, smooth, boyish.

Wesley just looked at Brodie, looked at his legs, with a fine covering of hair, his hard cock as it lay against his hip, his flat stomach and lean toned chest and his face, with their cheeks flushed red and his hair sticking up, all messed up. Wesley leaned over and ran his tongue along Brodie's cock, across its length, back and forth; then he lifted it up and took the head in his mouth, running his tongue over it, feeling the spongy head against his tongue. He moved down, taking its length into his mouth, wetting it, making it slick, making it get harder. Brodie pushed up with his hips, shoving his cock into Wesley's mouth, working it back toward his throat. Their rhythm continued until Brodie's breathing got fast, his hips pumping up with urgency, and Wesley pulled back, watched as Brodie's cock flexed in the air, wet, shiny. He lightly ran his fingers over Brodie's cock, over his balls, ran them up over his stomach, feeling his warm skin, seeing him react when he went over his stomach, sucking in a huge breath. Wesley continued to touch Brodie, to run his fingers over him. He ran his fingers around each nipple, felt them erect and hard. He lightly pinched each, gave them a little tug, watching how Brodie arched up, pushed his chest up as his cock flexed up hard. He finally ran his fingers over Brodie's neck, along his chin, then took it gently and leaned down, lips to lips as he kissed Brodie. Wesley stood up, then bent over and slid his arms under Brodie, lifting him up. He carried Brodie to his bedroom, to his bed. He laid Brodie on top of the bed, and then with Brodie's help pulled the quilt and sheet back, rolled it up at the foot of the bed, out of the way. Wesley stood by the bed and unfastened his jeans, pushing them and his briefs down, When he stood back up Brodie saw again how beautiful he was, his tall muscular body, his skin dark olive toned, his hair jet black and thick on his head, under his arms and over his cock. His cock stood straight out, rigid, hard, the head wet and shiny. Brodie reached out to him, taking his hand and pulling him down on the bed with him, kissing him, running his hands over his body, feeling the hardness of it, the curves and hard planes, the heat of it. Brodie felt Wesley's cock, thick and hard in his hand as he felt Wesley's hands on him. Brodie pushed Wesley on his back and got on top of him, grinding his cock against Wesley's cock, feeling the heat of their bodies trapped between them. Wesley grabbed him by the head and held him still a moment; eye to eye.



"Fuck me?"


Wesley spread his legs, letting Brodie slid down between them. Brodie slid down enough to put his arms under Wesley's legs and lift them up. Wesley brought them up and over Brodie's shoulders as Brodie moved up and over him. Wesley reached under Brodie, took his cock and aimed it at his hole, felt Brodie nudge up to it, push against it.

Wesley grabbed Brodie by the ass and pulled him down; feeling his cock penetrate, push into him. He threw his head back and cried out as he held Brodie tight to him, feeling the pain of his opening being stretched, opening up, letting Brodie penetrate. Brodie moved slowly, easing his cock into Wesley, pulling back and easing in more each time, until he finally had it all in Wesley, buried in his hot hole, feeling the ring of his opening grip his shaft. Brodie began to work his hips, sliding his cock back and forth, working Wesley up; letting him feel the fullness of his cock as it penetrated deeply into him. Brodie moved down, allowing Wesley's legs to wrap around his waist, and he began to kiss Wesley, to put his lips on the skin of his neck, to lightly bite the flesh, to run his tongue over his skin, tasting his sweat, the saltiness of it. He bit Wesley's ear as he pushed his cock into Wesley again, his pace increasing, heating up with his desire. Wesley ran his hands down Brodie's back, across the sweat slick skin down to his ass, holding on, pulling him in as Brodie was pushing cock into him, penetrating him. The sound of the old bed creaking, rocking across the wood floor echoed in the room as Brodie began to really work his hips, working his cock faster and faster, fucking Wesley, fucking him hard. His own cock, hard and wet, was rubbing against Brodie's moving body, achingly hard, pushing his desire.

"Fuck..." Wesley cried out as Brodie rose up and began to slam down his hips, hammering Wesley's hole, pumping cock through it faster and faster. Sweat ran out of Brodie's hair, trickled down his torso, made his skin shine in the dim light.

"Goddamn, Wesley...I'm coming" Brodie grunted as he pumped his cock in a few hard jerky thrusts, blasting his load into Wesley, pushing it into him, coating his insides. Brodie pumped his cock slower and slower, long easy strokes, as he pumped out his load until he was spent. He fell on top of Wesley, kissing him passionately, slowly, his breathing still rapid. After a few minutes, Brodie moved down, running his lips, his tongue along Wesley skin, over his neck, down this broad muscled chest, over his nipples, still erect. He tongued one, bit it; tugged on it till Wesley arced up, the pain, the pleasure bringing him to life under Brodie. Brodie moved further down, his tongue running down the middle of Wesley's stomach, feeling the tense tight muscles under the skin, until he found his navel, full of pre-cum and sweat and he tasted Wesley in it, the masculinity of him. Then he licked the head of Wesley's cock, licked the wet shiny head tasting more pre-cum, the sweetness of it, the sweetness of Wesley. Brodie ran his tongue down the shaft, feeling the veins protruding along the shaft, the hardness of the shaft. Brodie lifted it up and took it, took it in his mouth, letting the cock slid back into his mouth. Wesley pushed up, unable to control his desire, and Brodie took it, the thrusting cock, took it to opening of his throat, felt it push in, blocking his air. He held it a moment then backed off, moving along the shaft, letting it slid along his tongue. Brodie kept it up, working his mouth up and down the shaft, keeping it slick, wet and hot. Wesley would pump his hips up at times, fucking his cock up into Brodie, watching his shaft slide through Brodie's lips. Brodie began to focus on the head with his mouth, tonguing it, sucking it, working his mouth around it, as he fisted the shaft, stroked it with his tight grip.

"Damn...I'm going to cum..." Wesley uttered through clinched teeth as Brodie shifted position, took his cock all the way down; took Wesley's load that came shooting out. Wesley shot hard, pushing the first of his load straight down Brodie's throat, but Brodie pulled back and caught the remainder, the final thick wads that bubbled up and out of Wesley's cock, Brodie caught on his tongue, savoring it in his mouth before swallowing. He fisted Wesley's cock, pumped it for every drop of cum; milked it dry as he licked the head clean.

Brodie moved up by Wesley and nestled his body against him, feeling the heat between them, their breathing settle back down. Wesley held Brodie in his arms, tight to his body.



"Will you stay here tonight?"


Sunday began as many a day in the south did; hot, humid with a few clouds drifting through the sky. Wesley's house appeared quiet from the old two lane highway, with the usual Sunday morning traffic passing by on their way to one church or the other. It was inside that things were different. Inside on this late morning hour Brodie and Wesley were finally stirring, moving against each other, feeling each hard and wanting. Soon it would be Brodie on bottom, taking Wesley's fuck, taking is cock, watching that big boy, the one he use to lust after years ago on the school bus, working his body over him, Wesley's muscles flexing and moving as he swung his hips, thrusting his cock into him.

From the outside, the old clapboard house would appear to be quiet all day.



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