Castle Roland

Somerset Farm

by Jamie Haze

In Progress

Chapter 2

Posted: N/A


Jamie Haze

Doug snapped awake suddenly. His gray eyes focused on the big window near his bed. It was Friday, July first, and daylight, but not yet sun up, so it was a bit before six o'clock. He stretched, then yawned loudly and rolled to his back in the middle of the king size bed. His morning erection vibrated happily an inch or so off his stomach. He amused himself briefly by holding it down so it covered his navel, then letting it go so it popped back up as if it was spring loaded. He grinned at his slit eyed little buddy, then spoke to it softly, "Nope, not this morning, we have to get to work by seven so we can see old Patrick off. You'll just have to settle for a good piss." As he chatted with his cock he wiggled and bounced it around as if it was a puppet, but carefully, he never wanted to hurt his best friend. His hand strayed to his red-gold pubes. He thanked God daily for finally allowing them to appear. He spent an entire school year looking, but nothing, while every other guy in his fucking class walked around the locker room sporting bushes around their cocks. One guy already had hair climbing to his belly button. Doug imagined that by the time the kid turned twenty-one, he'd be combing his back. Doug thought it was possible to have too much of a good thing. He was interested in having just enough, so that he looked like a man.

He lifted both legs at the same time and carefully smoothed the blond volunteers on his shins and calves, then slowly slipped his fingers up his legs, but as always the noticeable ones stopped just below his knees. There was hair on his thighs, but they were so microscopic, he could only really see them when they glittered in full sun. He pulled his feet up under his ass and stood up in the middle of the bed, then walked to the edge, and stepped down to the carpet, heading with long strides into his bathroom. He paused at the shower long enough to turn the dial to the temperature he liked, before he made a bee line to the toilet. At first, he had to push his hardon down hard so it pointed into the toilet, but as the internal pressure fell, so did his cock, until if drooped, or rather retracted to it's normal position, of always kind of looking like he was half hard.

Doug always felt he was unique when he compared himself to other guys who sported cocks just as long as his. Everyone else's cock dangled, and when they dressed, they just tucked their jamokes wherever, and they stayed put, or they didn't do anything and their cocks made room somewhere and fucking stayed there. Not Doug's. He tried everywhere; straight down in front of his balls, to the right, and to the left of them. By the time he ran down the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast, there it was, standing straight up against his belly. He tried tight bikini, loose boxers, just about every brand of jockey's and even his most preferred, no underwear, all to no avail. He considered this to be a problem when he first became really aware of himself and an embarrassment. Then with the advent of pubic hair and a deeper voice, he changed his mind. His proudly standing cock should be an asset and good advertising, but so far, no sale.

After a long steaming shower, Doug dried himself haphazardly, then stepped up to the sink counter and leaned toward the mirror. It was time to shave! He inspected his chin and upper lip closely, both visually and with his fingers. He could actually see whiskers replacing peach fuzz. There were loads of them. Well, lots. How about many? Too many to count? Yup that works. He was torn between shaving or not shaving. If he didn't shave they would get longer and more visible, but they wouldn't look like whiskers, just hair. If he shaved regularly, they would toughen and look like regular whiskers, but it would be one hell of a long time before anyone would notice if he failed to shave. He opted for the latter course of action. He shaved. A bit over a half hour later, and he was done. It was time for clothes.

He dug out an old pair of running shorts, and pulled them up first to his waist, then pushed them down fairly low, but not low enough so that his stubborn cock pushed at the elastic waist band. He stepped into a pair of cross trainers, and grabbed a tank top, which he stuffed in the ass of his shorts so it hung down like a tail, and headed down to the kitchen. Two pop tarts and a glass of milk later, Doug was jogging down the driveway.

The only sport that Doug liked almost as much as swimming, was running, just running, nothing competitive, just running. Since he started working for Mrs. G., he ran every morning to the big house and then again home in the afternoon. The gravel road the Henderson's lived on dead ended at the Somerset Farm service drive. The main paved driveway ran up the opposite side of the hill on which the big house was built. The service drive was longer and meandered through some woodland, but mostly through the estate's fields and pastures. It was a nice run for Doug. Mostly up hill in the morning when he was fresh and down in late afternoon and tired.

Doug sprinted when he felt like it, then jogged for a few hundred yards. That Friday he was thinking about Patrick's advise about picking the right guy, not the first guy that grabbed his cock, which he had to admit, he was attempting to do with Patrick. Patrick was right, ideally he'd like one of the studs pictured in the gay porn magazines he'd collected over the previous year, but those guys looked kind of tough, or maybe too professional, was a better way to describe how they appeared in those glossy pictures. He also started thinking of a kid at school who traded looks with him in the dinning hall occasionally. The kid was a class behind Doug, so he would be a year younger, and he was good looking, blond with big blue eyes. Doug and his cock liked the kid's looks, but he just couldn't see himself fumbling around with an equally inexperienced virgin, not the first time.

The drive paralleled a long gently rolling field of hay which had been cut a day or two earlier and was ready to bale. Doug became aware of the sound of a tractor already in the field doing something, and it was only seven o'clock. The sound grew louder, and Doug slowed his pace. He was jogging toward it, while it was moving down the field in his direction, and about to crest a knoll so he would be able to see what it was doing.

Doug saw a head first, about a hundred yards away, then the neck, shoulders and arms of the operator. It was no one that Doug knew. The guy was young, deeply tanned, and like Doug, wasn't wearing a shirt. The tractor was a new John Deere, but fuck the tractor. Doug was enthralled, by the appearance of the operator. The guy looked like a statue. His back was held perfectly straight, perfect posture for riding a horse. He was wearing cut off jeans. He was beautiful. Doug stopped jogging and didn't even notice. The guy saw Doug and waved. Doug waved back and remembered to close his mouth. The tractor stopped, and the throttle was lowered to idle. Doug's stereo jumped down and loped the hundred feet across the field to where Doug stood.

"Hey! Hi! Are you Doug Henderson? My name's Paul Wilcott." Paul extended his hand and Doug had to shake himself mentally out of his trance before he took it.

"Ya, I'm Doug, pleased to meet you. I thought I knew all the farmers on this place." Doug the diplomat asked without asking, how Paul came to be working on the farm.

"I start college in the fall, and I'm working to earn some extra spending money, plus I can use the exercise."

Doug tried, but couldn't keep from laughing, and even waving a hand down Paul's body, as if to say, look at yourself, you don't need any more exercise. Then the idiot said exactly that. "Man you must work out a lot. How much more exercise do you need?" Paul's body and face were chiseled perfection, marred only by his raggedy ass shorts and high work boots.

Paul had light brown slightly wavy hair cut short so a gale wind wouldn't mess it. His big hazel eyes, surrounded by long curling lashes smiled before his lips did. His eyebrows were arched permanently and his rosy cheeks only darkened at Doug's praise of his body. He did look down at himself. "Thanks, I'm big into gymnastics, but I can just praxes so long before I need a change of pace. You know, a different kind of workout."

Doug nodded stupidly. "I'm working here as a gardener for the summer. How'd you know my name?"

"Mr. Vance told me. That's why I stopped." Mr. Vance ran the farm. "He said that you were working up at the big house and that since no one is around, I could come up at noon and take a swim, since we have an hour. I just thought I should ask you if it was really all right."

Doug saw Paul's eyes drop to the advertisement in his shorts. "Sure you can swim anytime you're close by too, or just sneak away. The farmers and the gardeners are all good at disappearing and no one says anything."

Paul backed away, waved, then turned to run back to the tractor and called over his shoulder, "Okay, I'll see you at noon. I gotta get back to work."

Doug started to sprint over the drive, while he thanked all gods great and small that his cock didn't manage to squeeze between his body and his shorts five seconds earlier. He looked around nervously as he ran because he knew of only one way to make it go away, and he sure couldn't do it in the middle of the road. There was no question who his morning fantasy was going to be. His mind was filled with Paul's image. Paul was about six feet tall, he had a rock hard body, and something else, Doug remembered, Paul didn't seem to have any hair on his upper legs, or his belly either for that matter. The old shorts he wore rode so low below his navel, if there was, Doug would have seen it. The shorts, they were cut off so high, the white pockets were visible below the tatters, so near a distinctive bulge.

Doug didn't remember getting the gate open, stripping off his shorts, or even really assuming his favorite position on the hard wooden lounge. His mind refocused to the present when he started pumping cum. There was gobs of the stuff, rivers, oceans. Doug the dreamer drank them dry. After he was laying flat again and panting, he had second thoughts. Doug wondered if he read Paul's body language incorrectly. It was possible. Then he shrugged his fears away because he wasn't planning to make the first move. He smiled to himself, he didn't even know what constituted a first move. He decided it was all part of the learning experience. I did wonder though, since there was going to be, might be, a first time, if he could persuade his mouth to suck another guy's cock. His mouth had no problem with his own, but both were contained in the same body, his. He shrugged as he dropped into the cool water just long enough to rinse off the accumulated sweat, and the odor of his manhood.

While he was in the pool, he dove and scanned the bottom to see if needed to be vacuumed. He was supposed to do that every Friday so the pool was perfect for the weekend, but he had no plans for the three days other than spend all three right there at the pool. In it to do his laps, and by it to further improve his tan, or bunch the freckles tighter anyway. He would be home alone. His parents were going down to the family beach house, and he refused to go, because he always got really broiled on the beach, while the inland sun was kinder to his fair complexion. He decided that the pool was clean enough, so he would mow the lawn. He looked at his watch, it was seven-forty five. "Patrick!" he said out loud, "I was fucking around, and I missed him." Then he decided that missing him was just as well The taxi would have been there and gone already since the commuter train left at eight. If he saw Patrick, the old man would have known that Doug had met his Mr. Right, maybe, hopefully, and it wasn't something Doug could talk about.

Doug found his damp shorts just inside the gate. He pulled them on, but thought about mowing in the nude, before he discarded the idea. One of the gardeners could decide to get off his ass long enough and come snooping around. The mower was new, and a new design, it could be turned on a dime, it had a zero turning radius, and fast. Patrick wiped out half a flower bed just demonstrating how it worked. Patrick and the machine were not friends, he referred to it as "The fuckin' munster." Doug loved the mower, it's speed and maneuverability, like any fifteen year old, anything with wheels that could be driven. Since no one was around to see him, after he got comfortable on the seat, he carefully arranged his cock and balls so they were outside the hem of his left leg, and little squinty could watch the grass disappear under the mower, or at least get some fresh cooling air on his bald red head.

Doug finished mowing, washed the mower and put it away by elevin-forty five. he went back to the pool to wash the dust off and make sure the area was presentable for his guest, as if it mattered. Suddenly he smacked the palm of his hand on his forehead. He was in such a hurry to get to the big house to see Patrick off, that he forgot his fucking lunch. It was still sitting in the fridge at home. Then he decided that if things went well in the coming hour, he wouldn't have time to eat anyway, except maybe, hopefully, if not Doug decided he'd survive the afternoon on internal rations.

He went back to the front of the house and waited nervously by pacing back and forth on the cobblestoned front parking court. Just after twelve, he heard the tractor chugging up the steepest part of the drive. It crested the hill and stopped in front of him. "Where should I park this thing?" Paul asked.

"Right here is fine, that thing is new and probably cost more than most cars." Doug's reasoning escaped Paul, but he shut off the ignition.

Paul jumped down and picked up a small cooler sitting in front of the seat. He looked at the house. "Wow, impressive huh? All this for one little old lady, but a nice one. She hired us didn't she? Lead the way to the pool my man." Paul said and clapped Doug on his back, then let his finger tips run downward along Doug's spine as he dropped his arm.

That touch was more electrifying than their hand shake that morning. Doug scooted out of reach as he led the way through the garden to the walled pool. He showed Paul where the key to the gate was hidden in a chink between two bricks in case Paul wanted to swim and he wasn't around. Paul nodded as Doug held the gate open so he could go first. "Age before beauty." Doug quipped.

Paul looked back and eyed Doug's body. "Ya," was all he said.

Paul looked at his surroundings for the first time as he sat on the end of Doug's lounge to unlace his boots. "Holy shit, just look at this place."

Doug nodded, it was impressive. The pool was huge by anyone's standards, it was seventy-five feet long and half as wide. The walls were vertical, because it was built of poured concrete long before there was gunite, which could be shot through a gun, the way modern pools were built. A marble cherub at each corner either spit or poured water into the pool. The terrace was twenty-five feet wide all around the pool and three life size marble nudes stared blindly from beds of bushes along each side wall. Four were guys, two were older with beards and frowns, one was younger with a body similar to Paul's, and the last was still younger and laughing, with a developing body much like Doug's. One of the females was a matron with still perky boobs, and the other was a girl with budding tits and a shy smile. None of the dude's was hung as well as Doug, and none were circumcised.

Paul set his boots aside, and pulled off his heavy boot socks. Then he stood up. Doug assumed that he would wear his shorts to swim, so he would as well. It would be safer that way, Doug was wrong. Paul sucked in his rippled gut and pushed his cut offs down without unzipping them, and stepped away from them, one step toward Doug. Then Paul just stood there looking at Doug wearing a small challenging grin. Doug took a sudden and very intense interest in a small colony of ants that had taken up house keeping between two of the pavers at the tips of his toes.

"Well? Ass hole." Doug thought. "It's put up, or shut up time. Peel out of your shorts." He hooked his thumbs in his waist band and pushed. His shorts skittered to around his ankles and his cock, happy to be freed once again, settled down to it's normal position of just below horizontal.

Doug's eyes touched Paul's and he saw them drop and linger on his cock. "That's decent." Paul granted Doug with a nod.

Doug was pleased that Paul approved, because he thought, "What you see is what you get on this skinny red head." He looked openly at Paul's cock and entire naked body for the first time. He screwed up the nerve to answer, "Thanks, you too."

The 'Who blinks first,' contest ended when Doug felt himself getting hard. He capitulated by stepping to the edge of the pool and dropping in using his simple Douggie dive, head first in slow motion, with minimal splash. He started doing laps, a medley, changing strokes every second turn, and at competitive speeds. He knew when Paul jumped in and paced him briefly, then just treaded water mid way along the pool's side and watched him wearing a fucking shit eating grin everytime Doug looked at him as he passed by.

Doug gave up, there was no way he could swim for the entire lunch hour. He just stopped and stood up in neck deep water. He looked around, but couldn't find Paul. Then he felt him. When Doug stopped Paul ducked under and swam to Doug's back. He butted his head between Doug's legs and stood up, so Doug found himself sitting on Paul's shoulders. Paul held him in place with a hand clamped on each leg, just above Doug's knees. Paul started giggling at the success of his maneuver, and turning his head to look up at Doug's face. Paul's head and hair pressed Doug's cock into his abdomen, and boink, it was instant irrevocable hardon time.

Paul suddenly palmed Doug's feet and lifted him effortlessly backward. Doug entered the water like a torpedo facing up. He turned over and swam underwater to the shallow end then squatted on a submerged step so only his head was above water. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees. He looked everywhere, but at Paul, who was wading toward him and laughing his ass off. He just kept getting closer. Doug picked out statue to stare at so he could see Paul in his peripheral vision. Pronounced abs, deeply rippled gut, navel, an insey, rock hard abdomen, pubes, then, Paul was standing in front of Doug. He stopped laughing.

Doug turned his head. Paul's six inch erection was three inches from Doug's mouth. Doug was mesmerized like a mouse looking into a snake's eyes for the second it took to realize that it was about to be the snake's dinner. There was no escape. Doug waited

Paul placed a gentle hand on Doug's shoulder, and broke the spell. Doug looked up. Paul smiled down on him. "Sorry about that, I guess it was a lousy trick. You've got a hardon, and as you can see I do too. It happens all the time to me. I had one most of the morning after I talked to you. Maybe we should do something about them together?" Paul made it into a question, but he took Doug by the upper arm and tugged and lifted him out of his fetal position. When Paul had him standing, he just led him up the last steps out of the water and along the edge back to the lounge where Paul's boots sat. Doug's lounge.

Paul left Doug standing at the foot feeling stupid for the few seconds it took him to grab a bottle of sun tan oil that Doug just left sitting on a table for use when he was working. He stood in front of Doug again a squirted the oil over Doug's body, everywhere except his cock. He handed Doug the bottle then used both hands to spread it around everywhere, including Doug's balls and between his legs, but again, he was very careful to avoid Doug's straining cock. When Paul was satisfied with his handiwork, he took the bottle back and squirted it over his own body from his shoulders down, to and especially his cock.

Doug watched, and looked down for the first time. Even Paul's cock was beautiful, it wasn't as big as Doug's but it was as perfectly proportioned as the rest of the gymnast's body. Paul put the bottle down on the terrace, then took both Doug's hands and guided them over his body to catch the runs and spread it. Doug started moving his hands himself and worked carefully fully enjoying the new found ability to touch another guy without getting himself killed for his efforts. When he got to Paul's cock, he avoided it just as Paul did his. Monkey see, monkey do. Paul took one of Doug's hands and closed it on his cock, then nodded his approval first, then quickly his desire. Doug got enthusiastic and started to stroke Paul, until Paul stopped him by grabbing Doug's upper arms and guiding him to sit on the end of the lounge and lean back so his feet rested on the terrace. As Doug sat down, Paul gently took his cock in his fingers right down low at its root, and held it so it wouldn't touch the oil. Doug supported himself on his elbows, and watched as Paul knelt between his spread legs, then leaned down and gobbled his cock into his mouth. Doug couldn't believe his eyes. No beautiful stud who looked like Paul would ever humiliate himself by actually sucking a wimpy fifteen year old's cock, but he was. Paul was sucking Doug's cock, and even working to take it all, to swallow it whole.

Doug was at the breaking point back when he found himself getting his cock mashed by Paul's head and watching Paul then, and feeling what Paul's mouth and tongue were doing to him put him over the brink. He tapped Paul on the head politely and told him through clenched teeth that he was ready to come. Then when he felt the first shot rocketing up the tube, he started rapping Paul hard with his knuckles. He didn't want Paul to get a mouthful of cum, claim he wasn't warned and then beat the living shit out of Doug in punishment.

Paul caught Doug's pounding fist and held him off just as the first of several man sized gushes spewed from the boy sized body into Paul's mouth. Doug watched Paul's throat muscles working to swallow several times. He took his mouth away from Doug's cock long after Doug was finished, but before Doug had time to reload another round. The heat in Paul's eyes told Doug that it was his turn to give Paul pleasure. Doug started to get up so they could trade places, but Paul pushed him back down, then made certain he'd stay there by lifting Doug's legs to his shoulders, and walking on his knees closer until Doug felt Paul's cock poking around his little pucker. Paul backed away, then looked down. Doug couldn't see what he was doing until he felt Paul's finger slide into him, withdraw, then slide in again, withdraw, then be joined by a second finger. Doug realized that this was in preparation for Paul's cock to replace the busy fingers. It was payback for getting sucked off, and it was fair. Doug looked forward to seeing and watching Paul's magnificent body as it sweated and stained pounding that perfect cock into Doug's ass. He hoped he could see it as it moved in and out. He moaned in anticipation. Paul removed his fingers and quickly replaced them with just the head of his cock at first. Doug felt his sphincter stretch, the close around it, and it didn't hurt. It felt great. Paul lifted Doug's legs further to get closer and in deeper. Paul leaned down and kissed Doug on the lips, then pried surprised lips and mouth open with his tongue then stayed to explore. Doug's arms went around Paul's neck and back and pulled him in down closer, all the while Paul's pounding into Doug's tight ass got more frantic, until that magic moment when he froze in place as deep as he could get, and Doug felt Paul's cum spurting. In response, Doug's cock started shooting another round. It seemed to be aiming at Doug's mouth, but only one knurdle, the first and largest hit his lips. Paul watched in surprise as Doug's tongue snaked out and grabbed to before it had a chance to run. Paul bent down and licked up the rest before his mouth again found Doug's. The kiss was long and deep, it was a thank you kiss.

Paul pulled back slightly and smiled into Doug's eyes. "What are your plans for this long weekend?" He asked.

Any comments or constructive criticism would be appreaciated... Thanks, Jamie

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