Farm

Team

Ball

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Art by Michael Kirwan

Story by Buzz Hatfield 

 

originally published in Playguy magazine - January, 1994

 

 

Young studs play a double-header!

_____

 

The Omaha radio station faded into a crackling hum just as the DJ announced a blistering 102 degrees for eastern Nebraska, although I was sure it was at least 110 degrees out here in the farmlands in the center of the state. My dad and I were on our way, that hot August day, to a farm north of Branson. Dad, a scout for a major league ball club, was checking out the pitching phenom, Tommy Lee Mason.

 

I usually spend my summers working as my dad's assistant and nearly all my fantasies involve one or more of the potential All-Stars we meet while scouting. But at twenty-one years old, fantasy was as far as anything ever went. Fear of approaching the wrong man and fear of not knowing what to do if I approached the right one had kept me a virgin. Still, through my fantasies, I knew exactly what I wanted: a butch, sexy young ballplayer.

 

About half an hour north of Branson, Dad turned our rental car onto the Mason farm and I spotted a young man on a tractor in the wheat fields to our right. Flagging us down, he hopped off the tractor and strode over to the fence to meet us as we pulled onto the shoulder. Tall and lanky, he moved with the kind of power you can only find in a man who makes his living with manual labor. His baggy work pants and heavy boots did nothing to hide this fact, and his grimy T-shirt, taut across his chest and shoulders, only emphasized it. Already, this Tommy Lee Mason was figuring high on my list of fantasies: six-feet-four-inches of sweat-drenched sinew.

 

Gripping the top of the fence, he swung his long legs over and bounded toward the car. He brushed his sandy hair out of his eyes with his left hand as he took my father's hand in greeting with his right. I thrilled at the play of muscle along his forearm as he vigorously pumped my dad's hand in a hearty welcome.

 

"How do? You must be Mr. Donahue."

 

My father replied, 'That's right. Tommy Lee Mason?"

 

A toothsome grin broke out on my new fantasy man's face. "Naw. I'm his little brother, Jimbo. Actually it's James Robert, but near everybody calls me Jimbo. Tommy Lee's gone into Branson to the county bank and the dry goods."

 

"Sorry if we're early," my father apologized. "But that'll give me and my son, Willie, a chance to check into a hotel in Branson."

 

"Ain't none," Jimbo interrupted. "But we'll be happy to set you up with a room at the house." Looking at me with pale eyes, he added, "One for Willie, too."

 

My father graciously accepted the offer, adding that we could easily share a room to save trouble.

 

"We got plenty of room," Jimbo assured us. "It's just me and Tommy Lee." I flushed as he grinned at me, shoving his hands in his back pockets, causing his thick triceps to flex. Hopping back on his machine, he shouted over its roar, "Y'all just keep up the road to the house and I'll meet ya there in about five minutes."

 

From the combination of a long drive in the scorching sun and the vision of Jimbo Mason astride his big machine, my clothes were soaked with sweat. I hoped pitching sensation Tommy Lee Mason could measure up to his brother. If he looked as hot as Jimbo and was a ball player to boot, I'd have fuel for endless hours of jacking-off.

 

We reached the house before Jimbo. To try to cool off, I drank a ladle of water from a big barrel at the end of the porch. It didn't do much for my body temperature and even less for the heat I was feeling between my legs. I nearly jumped when I heard Jimbo's sexy twang. "Looks like you and me's got the same thing on our minds."

 

"Huh?" I asked, in an embarrassed daze.

 

"Water," he said, and once again he locked me in those eyes. "What did you have on your mind?" And then he was gone, his boots treading heavily on the old porch as he showed my father in to the house.

 

Left alone on the porch, I loo ked out on the endless fields, my head reeling with confusion. Was Jimbo flirting with me? Or was this just a creation of my overactive libido? Was he just a charming farm boy, unaware of his arresting sensuality, or did this butch stud mean to do business? The thought both excited and frightened me.

 

I was broken from my dream state by the thud of Jimbo's footsteps as he re turned through the screen door. Walking toward me, he said, "Your pa thought he'd lie down for a nap. Wanted to relax a spell." Still approaching, he pulled his sweaty T-shirt over his head, revealing an armor-plated torso. Pulling it through a belt loop, he stepped past me and took the ladle from my hands. I was entranced by his chiseled features. Although he didn't carry the kind of bulk that usually gets my motor running, every lean muscle stood out in sharp relief.

 

I blatantly stared as he downed several ladles full of water. With his head thrown back, the cooling liquid spilled from the dipper into the corners of his mouth, to run in 1ivulets down his long muscular neck, across his Adam's apple, bobbing with every swallow, and through the sweat-soaked ridges of his chest and rippled stomach, finally mixing with the wet stains of perspiration soaking the waistband of his pants. Finishing, he let out a breathy "Aaah" and said to me, intensity burning in his eyes, "That's good. But I'm still hot."

 

All the blood rushed from my brain and into my crotch as my dick swelled in response. I managed to choke out a weak, "Me too."

 

"I could tell," he replied. 'Why don't we get you to your room. You probably want to lie down, too." Jimbo swaggered past. Reaching the screen door, he turned to me. "C'mon, Willie. Don't you wanna come up to your room?" he asked, purposefully grabbing a handful of himself.

 

Oh, my God! He did mean to do business. Here was my chance to lose my virginity to a dashing, sex-charged he-devil. But what do I do? With my lack of experience, I could never measure up to his obvious prowess. But how I wanted to try. It could turn out to be either a glorious education or the biggest humiliation of my life.

 

"Well?" he insisted.

 

Well, what else could I do? Offers and men like this didn't come along every day. With a deep breath I swallowed my fear, scooped up my travel bag and began my walk toward manhood, the sexual tension thickening as quickly as my aching cock. Reaching the entry of the house, I was standing close enough to Jimbo that I could have licked up the droplet of sweat that dangled from his left nipple. I stared into his eyes, trying to match the fire that burned in those deep orbs. Nearly breathless from excitement, I sim ply stated, "Show me."

 

A sly grin broke out across his tanned face. His smile was as big as the Midwestern sky. But suddenly that dazzling, devilish smile turned into a frown as fate intervened.

 

"Damn," he muttered, "Tommy Lee's home." I looked over my shoulder to follow his gaze to the old pickup truck kicking up dust on its way up the drive. Slipping back into his shirt, Jimbo eased past me and down into the yard to meet his brother.

 

Fate intervened but Fate was smiling down on me, for the moment Tommy Lee emerged from the battered old truck, I knew he was the man I needed to pop my near-bursting cherry. Not his brother. For all his differences from Jimbo, Tommy Lee was as much a stud, if not more so. He was shorter, but his trim six-foot bod carried the kind of well-packed beef that makes baseball players the mainstay of my wet dreams.

 

The drive from town had obviously been a hot one for Tommy Lee. He had opened his drenched dress shirt a few buttons down his thick chest and rolled up his sleeves, exposing fore arms so massive and corded with muscle that when he greeted me with a handshake, I nearly melted.

 

"Hi, I'm Tommy Lee," he beamed. Fixed on his dazzling green eyes and the whorls of golden brown hair sprouting from the opening of his shirt, I hardly heard the rest of what he said. "Welcome to our place, Mr. Donahue."

 

"Oh, I'm Willie. His son," I explained. I clarified further that I was also my dad's assistant and there to help prospective players with whatever they needed.

 

I had forgotten all about Jimbo until he interrupted. 'They didn't know there ain't no hotel around so I told his pa they could stay here," he said. "I put his old man in Granny's old room and was just about to show Willie to the attic room."

 

"I'll show Willie upstairs, Jimbo. You go unload the truck," Tommy Lee announced.

 

Grudgingly Jimbo set to his task while Tommy Lee escorted me up to the low-ceiling room. He kept me company while I unpacked, then asked if I'd meet him downstairs after he changed clothes, to help him warm up before pitching for my father.

 

I changed into jeans and a T-shirt, grabbed my catcher's gear and headed downstairs. Outside, Jimbo was taking a break from unloading the pickup in the intense heat. Leaning against the fender of the rust-spotted vehicle, he hooked his thumbs in his pockets, his long fingers making a frame around his obscenely huge basket. Jimbo was so horny it was scary.

 

As I rounded the house, heading for the back yard, I found Tommy Lee already there. Stretching out his hamstrings, he faced away from me, bent at the waist, legs spread, touching his forehead to his knee. It gave me a chance to really take him in. He had changed into his uniform pants and I could see his butt was as big and beefy as the rest of him. When he stood up, I saw that was all he was wearing except for his cleats and socks. Then he stretched overhead and from one side to the other, the muscles in his shirt less back rippling densely across his manly V-taper.

 

Somehow I spoke up. "Ready to toss a few, Tommy Lee?" I asked.

 

"Sure thing, Willie," he responded. Even though I was more interested in his body, Tommy showed some good stuff with his pitching, too. He was a strong southpaw. His fastball fired off like a rocket, with an extraordinary accuracy that zeroed in, again and again, on my stinging palm. As a pitcher he was everything we'd heard about.

 

Later, while taking a break from the sun underneath a shade tree, our conversation took a lot of turns, then came around to Jimbo. "I guess I ought to warn you about him," Tommy Lee said to me. "From the way he's been acting, he must be getting a little frustrated. Sexually, I mean. He ain't gay or nothin'. Just needy, I guess."

 

"I don't guess I'd be scared just 'cause he came on to me. I'm gay," I answered truthfully, hoping Tommy Lee would take my opening. "I'd be scared 'cause, well ... I'm also a virgin." My blatant honesty was the wrong move because my dreams of intimacy with Tommy Lee were immediately shattered. He instantly cut off our warm-up session, using the excuse of not wanting to overdo it before pitching for Dad. I could have kicked myself. I should have realized Tommy Lee was straight. I had thought so. Now I knew for sure. And he knew about me and didn't like it. I guess he didn't judge Jimbo since he was just out to get his rocks off.

 

Time finally came for Tommy Lee to pitch for my father. His throwing, while still hard and powerful, was wild and erratic. He had certainly lost his edge. He'd hardly even look at me for signals. I guess he didn't like pitching to a queer. Trying desperately to read what was going on behind his deep green eyes, I nearly missed the low fast ball that was whizzing at my face. Stupidly, I turned away from it instead of catching it in the mask and was savagely struck in the side of the head. Dizzy from the blow, I had to let Dad help me upstairs. I babbled to him that Tommy Lee's pitching was much better than he displayed and urged him to try him out again.

 

Late that night, I woke to a soft tapping on my door and Tommy Lee poked his head in. Without his red baseball cap on, it was the first time I noticed his sexy flat top. He was butch beyond belief.

 

"Mind if I come in for a minute?" he whispered. "I was kind of worried about beaning you this afternoon. You okay? I throw kinda hard."

 

That was the understatement of the century. "Just a big lump on my head. Besides, it's my own fault. My mind wasn't in the right place." I motioned him in. Dressed for bed in a pair of gleaming-white boxers, he padded barefoot to a rocker in the corner. Once he was seated, I couldn't see his face, the slashes of light coming through the window illuminated only his corrugated abdomen and thick thighs.

 

Breaking through a silence that lasted several dozen seconds, I asked him, "So, what's on your mind, Tommy Lee?"

 

The silence continued a bit longer before he said, "I looked pretty shabby in front of your father today, huh? I guess I blew it. This was my big chance. Since our folks passed away, Jimbo and me's been struggling to keep this farm. Me playing big-league ball was gonna be the only way. I fucked up bad."

 

"Every pitcher has off-days," I said, trying to ease his mind. "I think Dad's gonna take another look at you in the morning before we head back for Omaha."

 

"Really?" he responded. "Oh, man! Gotta focus. I gotta get my head straight. All I could think about was what you told me this afternoon. It really messed with my brain. I thought you were straight."

 

The lump on my head pulsed as I started to get angry, "Look, Tommy Lee, you don't have to hate me because I'm gay. It doesn't affect you."

 

Tommy Lee leaned forward enough that I could finally see his face, the contours rugged in the pale moon. The green of his eyes seemed to intensify as he spoke. "Now I'd be a bit of a hypocrite if I hated you for being gay."

 

"You mean you ...?" I sputtered.

 

"You may think it doesn't affect me," he said. "But it does. I couldn't concentrate on my pitching from being so frustrated, knowing I can't touch you. Especially since you never been with a fella before."

 

"Why not?" I asked, trying in my own way to tell Tommy Lee that it was okay. I knew my time had come.

 

Tommy Lee's big feet slapped the floor as he walked over to the edge of my bed. In confidence he whispered to me, "Willie, I'd love to do to you all the things I'm thinking, but I don't want to be the one to corrupt a man's son."

 

"You won't corrupt me," I answered. "You'll teach me. I want you to."

 

"You sure?" he questioned.

 

"I think so," was all I knew to say. The following silence was interminable. I could feel my pulse beating from within my prick, now grown into a rigid seven inches. I didn't know what to do. What did Tommy Lee expect of me?

 

"Give me your hand," he said, answering my unspoken question.

 

Obeying, I extended my right hand to him. He pressed it to his crotch. Through his briefs, his dick was very warm to the touch and quite thick. I squeezed to test its hardness and a low steady sigh escaped his lips. It thrilled me to know that already I had given him pleasure with just my touch. Encouraged to go further, I began pressing his flesh between my fingertips, making him continue to sigh and moan as his cock swelled and lengthened, tenting his shorts.

 

I slid out of bed to be closer to his bulging hard ness. Kneeling naked in front of him, I pressed my cheek to his rod, rubbing my face against the cotton, smelling the wonderful musk that rose from between his thighs. His hand came down to stroke my hair, his moans increasing. I knew I was doing something right.

 

"Can I see it?" I asked him. Answering the affirmative, he reached for his waistband. I stopped him. "Please let me do it."

 

"Go ahead," he smiled, dropping his hands to his sides. My trembling hands went for his shorts and slowly pulled them to his ankles. He stepped out of them, kicking them into a corner, as I stared in wonder at the only real-live erection I'd ever seen besides my own. It was as thick and powerfully built as Tommy Lee, with skin that was smooth and even. I guessed it to be somewhere between eight and nine inches with a wonderful plum-sized head.

 

Cupping his big dick in my hands, weighing its considerable heft, I started to babble. "Oh, Tommy Lee! You don't know how much I want this."

 

Pressing his fingers to my lips he said, "Lesson One, Willie: Shut up and enjoy it." Then his mouth replaced his fingers and he kissed me. His strong tongue pushed into my mouth as I opened up for him.

 

Tommy Lee took control of my body. His lips never left mine as he nudged my legs apart. The sexual tension that enveloped me increased ten-fold when I felt Tommy Lee's fist encircle my iron-hard dick.

 

"You like this, don't you?" he teased, carefully stroking my hot throbber. "You like the way a man can make you feel."

 

"Yes!" I hissed through clenched teeth.

 

Still he baited me. "You want to cum, don't you? Huh? Do you want me to make that hard dick spit?

 

He got his answer. With only his hands, he had taken me to the limits. Involuntarily, my hips snapped up off the bed and my tool cut loose with a volley of cum shots so intense I nearly blacked out as he pumped my spewing meat.

 

As I collapsed into the damp sheets, I looked at Tommy Lee through half-closed eyes. The moonlight broke the darkness enough to highlight this broad grin.

 

I was embarrassed that I had cum so quickly. I wanted my time with Tommy Lee to last forever. He shrugged off my apologies. "Hell, I doubt I lasted that long my first time. Besides, what makes you think we're through? Huh?"

 

He crawled up my body to straddle my chest, dropping his flaring cock-head onto my chin. His strong scent, all rawhide and sweat, made my nostrils flare as he rubbed the fleshy knob across my lips. "Lesson Two," he instructed. "Open your mouth." I did. "Stick out your tongue." I did. Then, rising forward on his knees, he plunged in.

 

My cheeks puffed as he pushed into my mouth with his thickness. My lips stretched around his hardness. "Oooh," he moaned, sliding back and forth. Cupping my head in his hands, he fed me with firm gentle strokes, each time giving me more of him. I ran my hands over his giant shoulders and rubbed his hairy chest, rigid nipples, and tight-as-a-drum abdomen. I sucked him ferociously, dying to taste his manly liquid.

 

My appetite getting the best of me, I tried to take in too much of that expansive meat and began to choke. "Easy now," Tommy Lee chuckled, pulling out of my mouth. Then he moved down on the bed and spread my legs. Separating my butt cheeks in his rough hands, his face disappeared and I felt his tongue licking at my tight hole. I shuddered. He coated my orifice with spit, then pierced my aperture with his thick finger. My body lurched in response.

 

"Too much?" he asked, stroking my body with his free hand.

 

"No," I winced. "Nothing you do is too much, Tommy Lee."

 

"I guess I'll take that as an invitation," he replied. Before I could respond the affirmative, he entered me in one quick movement. Buried in my tight ass, he held there, letting me adjust to the intense burning I suffered from his breath. Feeling my hole relax, he began pumping me, owning me. The world was one big streak of white light.

 

Continuing a masterful fuck, Tommy Lee leaned over and pressed his body to mine. He kissed and licked my mouth, chewed my neck, and squirmed against my cock trapped between us. Waves of pleasure crashed through my loins as he pounded me into the mattress. He stole my virginity like a bandit.

 

Suddenly Tommy Lee rolled onto his back, pulling me with him, still plugged with his cock. With me on top, he held me, the weight of my body forcing his hot prick even deeper into me. Gripping my waist he rolled his hips, rocking a fuck into me like a piston engine. My eyes rolled back in my head as I felt his big tool punch at my inner depths. The sensation was so incredible, I locked my knees into his sides and groaned, "Fuck me, Tommy Lee! Oh, shit! Fuck me!"

 

Settling in for comfort, Tommy Lee put his hands behind his head, his big biceps swelling. Staring into my eyes, he commanded, "You're in the saddle, Willie. Ride that pony!" I latched onto his thick chest, cupping a meaty pec in each hand, and began to slowly ease up and down. I would rise until just the head of his dick was trapped in my clenching hole and then slam down full force, swallowing him with my stretched ass. Building up steam, I rode him faster and harder. I felt as if I was born to this. I was made to take a slugger's big bat up my steaming butt.

 

Gazing up at me, my hunky south paw lover took my cock in his left hand and began a determined stroke, matching the timing with the rise and fall of my rear. I felt a tingle beginning deep within me, building as it spread through my body. He pumped and pumped his fist, bringing me closer to another climax. My seed began to churn and travel up my rigid cock. Tommy Lee gave a forceful lunge and the sensation ripped through me like dagger. My body bucked and arched, blasting hot cum into the air. I rode the wave of my violent orgasm, watching Tommy Lee open his mouth in a silent cry as his fat cock exploded, coating my insides with white-hot cum. I fell into a heap atop Tommy Lee's broad chest, gloriously spent, and drifted to sleep.

 

The sound of the rooster crowing woke me the next morning. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I noticed I was alone. Where was Tommy Lee? Sunrise was breaking through the window. Never had a sunrise looked as glorious as it did that morning. My eye caught a clump of fabric in the corner. It was Tommy Lee's boxer shorts. I scooped them up and held them to my nose. Just the smell of his underwear brought forth a passionate remembrance of the previous night's encounter. So much so, it made me horny for more. Tommy Lee would need his shorts back, so what could I do but return them right then?

 

I slipped his shorts over my naked hips, my stiffer trying to poke through the fly, and tiptoed out into the hallway, heading for Tommy Lee's room. But which one was it? Choosing a door, I knocked lightly so as to not disturb the others in the house. There was no answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. I turned the knob and peered into the room. There was no one there. It was so still that my heart nearly leapt into my throat when I heard a voice behind me. "Looking for me?"

 

I turned to find Jimbo looming over me in his underwear, his long body moist from a shower, his sandy hair slicked back, dripping wet. He was still grinning that lecherous grin. "No. I'm looking for Tommy Lee," I said.

 

"He ain't here," Jimbo responded. "He's gone into town. Besides, this here is my room."

 

"I didn't know. I just guessed," I explained.

 

"Lucky guess," he smirked.

 

"Huh?"

 

"Never mind. What you looking for Tommy Lee for? Ain't this kind of early for you city-boys? Or are you looking for some more of what you got last night?"

 

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I spat. How did he know? Did Tommy Lee brag to him?

 

"I heard you two whooping it up, up there in the attic." Kicking the door shut, he pushed me into his room as he continued. "But that's okay. Now it's my turn. Most folks would say I'm getting sloppy seconds, but you won't know sloppy 'til I'm done with your ass." Immediately he was gripping my butt with both his long hands, kneading and squeezing my flesh.

 

"Nice little bottom you got there, Willie," he praised. "Nice and round and perky. Bet I could bounce quarters off those cheeks." He slipped a hand into my boxers and stuffed one of his lengthy fingers right into my chute! "Don't try to make me think you and Tommy Lee ain't been fooling around. You're as open as an all-night market. Good thing. You needed that preparation to take on this beauty."

 

He gripped the bulging pouch of his briefs and squeezed his big corncob-sized slab. He chuckled at my response. "Look at them eyes bug outta yer head! Ain't seen nothing like this before, eh, Willie? Just you wait 'til it starts to grow!" My God! It was still only half-hard! Surely it couldn't get much bigger. He continued to work his meat, using both hands, while I watched in disbelief as it sprouted to an incredible size.

 

"Pull my drawers down, boy!" he ordered me. I shucked his shorts in an instant. His monstrous cock swung out at me, aimed straight at my face. Even as hard as it was, it couldn't point up because of its considerable weight. "Yeah! Now it's got some room to breathe!" he rasped. Folding his brawny arms across his chest in pride, he spread his feet to shoulder width and beamed at me. "So, what do think?"

 

I could see why Jimbo gets uncontrollably horny like he does. When a beast like his prick needs attention, you give it whatever it wants. "Jimbo," I gulped, "it's huge!"

 

'Tell me something I don't know," he smirked. "This baby's the pride of central Nebraska. Eleven butt-bustin' inches. Gets even bigger just 'fore I shoot. Bet you want a taste, don't you. Everybody does. The gals over to the high school, the parcel man. Can't nobody resist it. And you ain't no different, city-boy." He was conceited son-of-a-bitch. But who could blame him? I was kneeling before him, nose-to-crotch, and he pressed his thumbs into each side of my jaw, just below the ears, forcing my mouth open like one does with an animal. He hefted that long, thick thing between my lips and shoved. "C'mon, boy! I want to see you swallow my donkey dick!"

 

He began his assault on my throat, pumping my face furiously. Jimbo battered at my tonsils with his log so forcefully I gagged. "C'mon, cock-sucker. Open that throat!" he grunted. "You're going to take it to the balls! When I say now, I want you to swallow. Hear me?" I tried to answer around the mouthful of cock I had, but couldn't do anything but grunt. Jimbo pulled back a couple of inches, tightly laced his fingers through my hair and cried, "Now!" I swallowed, as instructed, and he forced his cock completely to the nuts. I heard a loud pop from within my throat as he broke through. Jimbo began rolling his hips, stirring his fat meat around my esophagus. "Oooh, that's good! Nice mouth, baby! You got the hottest, wettest little mouth ever!" Jimbo resumed his savage thrusts against my face, spewing expletives. "Damn! Suck me good, boy! Fuck, yeah! You love my big dick, don't you, cock-sucker? Yeah, take all that meat!"

 

His cock filled my mouth to capacity. I could feel his power through his luscious tool. I shivered, no longer from fear, but from delight. I worked back up to the head of his dick, greedily ran my tongue all around it, then pushed it slowly back down my gullet. As I sucked, he stroked into me faster and faster. Just as I was getting used to his deep thrusts, he pulled out. "You suck a mean cock, Willie. Near to bustin' my nut," he congratulated me. "Let's see how good them other lips suck. Get them panties off and bend over the bed." I froze in fear. Sucking his gigantic prong was one thing, but. "Move it, boy! I ain't got all day! I got fields to plow once I'm through plowing you."

 

The next thing I knew, I was tossed across a pillow, my ass exposed for his inspection. A big hand came down and smacked my buttock. "Damn fine butt-cakes," he whistled. "Willie, you're gonna enjoy this fuck almost as much as I'm gonna enjoy givin' it to ya."

 

"Just please go slow," I begged. "Please?"

 

"Shit!" he scoffed. "You let the bull outta the stall; now you gotta ride him! I'm gonna teach you how to take a real man!"

 

Then it hit. Searing pain shot through me. The fist-sized head of his dick was impatiently working its way into my hole. Tears welled in my eyes, the pain was so intense. Jimbo crooned to me, "I'm gonna fuck you good so good! Think you can fool me, sneaking into my room pretending like you're looking for Tommy Lee. You about ate me up with your eyes all day yesterday. I know what you want."

 

He was right. I wanted to be fucked by his big dick. I hadn't come here for that purpose, but now that Jimbo was on his way up my ass, I wanted him all the way. I closed my eyes and prayed he wouldn't split me in two. A deep guttural sound rumbled from Jimbo's chest as he plunged in with python-sized organ. I gripped his dick with my sphincter, as Tommy Lee had taught me, and my ass took more of his eleven-inch dong. Rocking back and forth, I took him deeper and deeper. 'That's the way, baby. Good pussy," he grunted in response. "Good, sweet pussy!"

 

"Pussy wants your big cock!" I shot back. "Fuck me good, farm-boy! Fuck me good!"

 

"Oooh!" he moaned, grinding against my ass, "You ready to really feel it?"

 

"Bang my fucking ass, Jimbo!"

 

"Yeah!" Jimbo moaned, pounding me so hard we were sliding across the bed. He filled me with his powerful cock. My ass was being taken. I wiggled my hips as he ravaged my hole. "Enjoying it now, aren't you, baby!" he said between grunts. "Tell me you love it, Willie!"

 

"I love it," I moaned.

 

"Tell me you want it!"

 

"I want every inch of your big fucking super-tool, Jimbo!"

 

"Take it all, Willie! Work that tight ass! Take it all!"

 

Jacking my dripping prick in my fist, I spread my legs wider and arched my back. Spasms signaling that I was near orgasm shot through my body. The closer Jimbo got, the deeper he sank his slab of beef into my hole. His heavy panting soon turned into gasping gulps. He was tight up against my butt, thrusting in and out of me a thousand times a second, bringing me to the edge of orgasm.

 

"Arrgh!" he bellowed. His mammoth dick-tube pulsed deep within me and exploded with its creamy load. Liquid fire burned in my churned up guts, spurt after spurt, blast after blast. The feel of Jimbo washing my insides with gallons of his spunk sent my cock belching its goo all over the sheets of his bed.

 

"Whee hoo!" Jimbo yelled, pulling that fat monster out of my flooded butthole. He smoothed his still damp hair back and wiped his sticky cock off on the towel he'd brought from the shower as I lay wasted on his big four-poster. He had just run me through the ringer and he still looked like a million bucks, as sexy and devilish as when I first met him. "Gotta get to them fields," he said, stepping into a pair of overalls. "Or else Tommy Lee's gonna have my hide." Giving me a wry smile and a wink he left for his chores. He stepped right back in to add, "Usually have my lunch 'round noon near the silo. See ya then."

 

He disappeared again, confident that I'd meet him for another fuck. He was right. I gave up my ass once more to Jimbo's humongous meat log just before Dad and I left for Omaha. I didn't have a chance to be with Tommy Lee again. But that's okay. He pitched for my father that morning and guaranteed himself a spot for spring training next March. We'll have plenty of chances to get reacquainted.

 

The Mason brothers taught me a lot about sex in those twenty-four hours in Branson. Tommy Lee showed me passionate and tender, and Jimbo showed me down and dirty. I can't decide which I like better. I'll need to try both ways a few more times. After all, I'm counting on Jimbo coming to visit Tommy Lee in the big city.

 


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Any images, writings or other content on this website may be copied for personal viewing only.
They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
used on another website or blog; posted to any internet or computer newsgroup, forum or media sharing site;
nor used for any other purpose without the express written permission of the artist or KirwanArts.com.