The Plough-Boy

by Nicholas Hall

Watching the two of them walk toward the refreshment table, laughing, joking, their nicely shaped bodies and trim, but firm buns encased in rather tight fitting jeans, they seemed oblivious to the stares of the young men, attached and otherwise, as they ogled them walking seductively past. The gymnasium, partially lighted for the event this evening, was dark enough to provide the students with some modicum of privacy, but light enough for the teachers, parents, and the ever-present principal chaperoning, to keep a wary eye open, hoping to prevent trouble or perhaps, shudder the thought, copulation by some young couple in a dark corner! Not very likely to happen I thought, since I would guess sexual misconduct in a standing position amongst the midst of the other revelers would be difficult, if not nigh impossible. I was soon to learn my naivety was to be tested and I would be wrong!

This was my first fall "mixer" in high school; my first year of high school and I was thrilled, sort of! From my vantage point, somewhat secluded in the shadows of a set of folded up bleachers, I observed the two of them stop at the refreshment table; pick up a cup of punch for themselves and one for me. Two peas in a pod, people would often say, identical twins and beauties many people thought and they were right. The twins were outgoing, you know gregarious, and made oh so many friends! As seniors in high school they were at the top of the social ladder and had their pick of dates or parties; quite unlike me, their youngest brother.

I was quite shy and didn't see myself as particularly handsome or even good looking, although they reassured me time and time again I was the best looking of the family and would find a suitable companion someday, if I would but overcome my lack of self-confidence. I stand about five feet four inches tall, not particularly well-built or ripped or strong, and tend to be more skinny, with a thin waist and hips, and right in the middle of changing from boy to man!

They seemed unaffected by my company and, in fact, insisted I come along with them, assuring me I'd have a good time. I suppose I should've, but I didn't know how to dance very well and besides, no one asked me. Not that I would've accepted since there was no way I would make a fool of myself out there dancing with a GIRL! Sisters; now that's a different story 'cause you can dance with them and nothing will happen. You're pretty safe with your older sisters, I thought!

The twins started walking toward me, smiling, and although they couldn't see me, I smiled back in satisfaction. They truly were nice looking, for girls.

"Them thar yor dates?" the voice, distinctly male, said breathily in my right ear, blowing soft puffs of warm air into my ear tunnel, past my lobes, and down the front of my shirt, sending rippling tickles south across my hairless chest and, for some reason, bypassed my belt line, gave a tingle to that part of me which distinguished me from the females of the species, brought a start of a lengthening, a chubbing, and a strain to the fabric front of my string-bikini briefs well encased in my jeans!

The voice, soft, sexy, and seducing, had a distinct southern or hillbilly accent to it and the hand of the yet faceless voice (since I'd not yet swiveled my head seeking a visual inspection) placed in the small of my back, just above the waist of my beltless jeans, began making little, finger twitching movements, bringing a full and quick stand-up to my nether region boy part. Tempted to tilt my head to the right in order to luxuriate in the warmth of the siren sounds of apparent lust entering my ear, I hesitated and instead, turned my head in order to see my tempter. In doing so, my glasses skewed to the left, forced askance by his oh, so close face, blurring my vision momentarily, and bringing my nose in direct contact with a smooth shaven, delightfully, pleasant smelling warm face.

"N n n n no!" I stuttered and squeaked, my voice betraying the god-awful changing from boy to man. "They're my twin sisters," I finally gasped, but kept my face pressed to the yet unidentified head resting on my shoulder and luxuriated in the close contact.

At my answer, he turned his head slightly, dislodging my glasses even farther from their precarious perch on my nose and when almost face to face with me, snaked his tongue from his mouth, and brushed my quivering lips with it!

Oh my God; I damn near creamed a load in my jeans! I didn't think a fourteen year old cock could get any harder!

My mystery suitor asked, almost breathlessly, beguiling, enchanting me even more, "Do you really need those glasses?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but before a word could exit my mouth, his warm, moist, delicious tongue entered! Somewhat taken aback, I countered with gracious aplomb, I thought, by engaging in a bit of a sparring match with his for a moment, until I pulled back and uttered shakily, "Only to see with!"

My sister, Barbara, now standing quite near, asked my paramour, "Scotty, are you trying to seduce our little brother?"

"Mais non, mon cheri," he replied gallantly, switching from his hillbilly accent to French, while deftly slipping his hand down behind the belt line of my jeans in the back and under the elastic waistband of my bikinis. Once secured there, his long, middle finger slid, quite easily, into the top part of the cleavage in my small, young buttocks, there resting as if it found a home.

"Lose the accent, for God's sake, Scotty," commanded Patty Ann, my other sister. Grinning at me, she continued, "He's not trying anything funny is he, Tony?"

Well, it wasn't funny, but damned erotic and I loved it!

"N-n-n-no," I stammered, answering her question and feeling the finger begin a gently and slight 'flick,' 'flick,' 'flick' as it tickled even lower between my little butt cheeks.

"I beg of you, sweet twin ladies, would I do such a thing to this handsome, thoroughly delightfully delicious, fragile, young lad?"

"In a New York minute," Barbara laughed.

"You've been eyeing him ever since you first saw him in the cafeteria when school opened this fall," Patty added and handed me my soda, causing me to wonder how in the hell I'd ever drink it since Scotty's head still rested on my shoulder. My hand shook like a dog shitting razor blades, but I managed to take a quick sip, just to rid my throat of the dryness as the errant finger in my butt crack now strayed to a spot just above my now tingling rear portal.

"Where's your accent?" I managed to squeak out.

"Scott's in Thespians with us," spoke up Barbara, "and is in most of the school plays. He has a variety of accents he uses. For a junior, he doesn't do too bad, does he, Tony?"

"I GUESS NOT!" I answered hastily as the diving digit encountered my quivering ass ring. Good thing it's dark in this corner of the gymnasium!

Before I could say "unhand me you cad" or "I'll give you thirty minutes to stop that," Patty Ann asked, "Can you get a ride home, Tony; please? Barb and I have an invite to go for pizza with a couple of guys."

"I'll take him home with me," Scott answered quickly.

"YOU WILL?" I asked loudly, standing up on my tip toes, feeling a thumb and finger on one butt cheek, two fingers on the other butt cheek, and it didn't take a crime detective to figure out Scott's middle finger was now inserted to the first knuckle in a place where, other than my own fingers, someone else's had never been.

"That's sweet of you Scotty," murmured Patty Ann, "Have fun, Tony," and they both started to leave, with me partially impaled on a very talented middle finger, now gently massaging my lower bowel with a twisting rubbing motion. Clenching my ass cheeks or flexing my pucker strings only seemed to encourage him, so I did it a couple of more times.

"We'll tell Mom and Dad you're spending the night at a friend's and will be home in the morning," Barbara said over her shoulder as they walked away to join the two boys now waiting by the exit door.

The finger slowly eased out and the soft dexterous hand retracted from my pants. Using both hands, clasping me by the shoulders, he turned me so I faced him. Reaching up, he adjusted my glasses, finally giving me a clear look at my escort for the evening and night. His infectious smile captivated me, bringing one to my face; not as beautiful as his, but it was the best I could manage under the circumstances.

"I'm Scott Wayne Randolph and I'm a junior this year," he said by way of introduction, "and your sisters were absolutely correct; I've wanted to date you ever since the first time I saw you."

"You have?" I squeaked, since I could see no reason why someone would ever want to date or even talk to a five feet four inch, one hundred five pound freshman who blushed and tipped his head down whenever anyone looked at him. I'm not an athlete; don't have "fabulous abs" or "large deltoids" or large anything for that matter. I'm not hung like the guys I've seen on the internet or in the shower room nor do I have balls as big as grapefruit that hang low and wobble as I walk; or able to spout great gobs of semen across the room or up to my head when I jack off. No, I'm just a fourteen year old nerd who, just last summer, started growing dark, curly hair at the base of my circumcised penis which, on a good day, stretches to a little over five inches when hard (if I press the ruler really hard up against my pubes).

Facing me, dark eyes dancing with joy, anticipation, just plain lust, or perhaps all of the above, was very attractive and instantly likeable male, heretofore referenced by my sisters, as "Scotty;" who, according to them, was a brilliantly talented actor. I have no reason to doubt them since, if his hand and finger were any indication of his skills, I would concur, but silently hoping he's talented in many other ways. He was easily four to six inches taller than me with twinkling blue eyes, dark hair, and outweighing me by twenty to thirty pounds. Scott was well proportioned, with an upper torso indicating some definition either through the use of weights or hard work. Not overly developed or "ripped" as some would say, but the chest and shoulders of a maturing young man; not an ounce of fat discernable anywhere, waistline trim, and arms just made for hugging. To top it all off, I thought he was just fucking gorgeous!

Stepping even closer, if that was possible, until our bodies were somewhat smashed together, Scott whispered in my ear (there it goes again; hot breath flowing down the front of my chest heading for my pieces parts, but the progress was halted by a stiff protrusion imprisoned behind Scott's jeans, pressing up against my stomach about four inches above my own constrained hard-on), "Want to go someplace with a little more privacy or perhaps public, for a burger or pizza?"

I shyly nodded my head in acceptance.

"Which one?" Scott questioned, moving his mouth from one ear to the one on the opposite side of my head, and producing results quite similar to his ministrations previously on the other ear.

I just shrugged my shoulders and hoped my little stiff rod, wrestling with the waist band of my briefs, wouldn't frighten him away. I'd follow him anywhere so captivated by Scotty was I. I giggled softly when he moved his head away, saw me smiling, smiled back, and suggested, "Why don't we just go to my house? We can dance there, have a pizza, or just do anything our hearts desire. It's just mom and dad home now and we'll have the rec room downstairs all to ourselves. Oh, by the way, did I tell you I have a queen size bed in my room?"

Wobbling my head from side to side, I answered, "No."

"Yeah, plenty of room for both of us."

"IT DOES?" I spouted rather loudly, I felt, but evidently Scott didn't notice.

Without waiting for any additional replies or questions from me, he put his arm around my waist and guided me to an exit, past an ever present chaperone, and out the door of the gymnasium into the parking lot. He released me at that point since there were many students in the lot either just now coming to the dance, leaving, or just hanging out in the lot.

Discretion, the better part of valor I'm told, prevailed and wanting to avoid any physical actions or oral taunts by the few red-necks always seemingly to be present, he took one step or so away from me but not far enough that I couldn't feel his presence.

"Wouldn't want someone pounding the hell out of my boyfriend," he said protectively.

"I AM?" I asked incredulously.

"Don't you want to be?"

Oh my god, do turkeys trot, sleeping dogs fart, and young peckers leak? I nodded my head vigorously, perhaps a little too much since I got slightly light headed, or was it because we were getting closer to his truck and he'd leaned down and swirled his tongue in my left ear? Reality seemed to hit at that moment, at least in my mind, bringing me to remember the story of Cinderella and her night at the royal ball; I grew suddenly fearful at the stroke of midnight all of this would vanish and I'd be alone again, an ugly duckling no one wanted!

"Don't even think of it," Scotty admonished. "I saw that look on your face and you're not going to turn into a pumpkin! If anything, you'll be a perennial blossom flowering for me to enjoy, not only the sight of, but to luxuriate in its fragrance and joy from its beauty, reflecting all that is good in my life."

God, he's making me feel so special; so wanted, so important, and so, so loved and we just met!

His chariot awaited us in the student parking lot; not a horse drawn carriage, but a rather old pickup truck, well maintained and clean, but old. Scott opened the door for me and, although he didn't need to, boosted me up to the seat, placing one hand on my butt and the other under my right leg, assisting me into the passenger seat. I think he just liked to touch me! I quickly buckled my seat belt; there was no way I could have him do it for me! If he'd leaned over my crotch to help, I'd have spewed a sticky load in my briefs with little effort but great orgasmic pleasure!

Scott lived about three miles outside of town on a medium sized farm (medium in our area is about four hundred acres or so) and his home was an older story and a half wood frame house. It was an older home, but very well maintained, and, even in the dark, was welcoming! I know I shouldn't have accepted his invitation to go home with him so readily, but my sisters seemed secure with it and trusted him, even encouraged it, so why shouldn't I? Perhaps they were too encouraging? I was beginning to get a sneaking suspicion this was a setup contrived by Scott in cahoots with my sisters. If it was, I certainly wasn't going to object – not yet anyway.

Scott parked the truck under the large, bright yard light, and while he walked around to open the door for me (what a gentleman), I quickly glanced around and could see no big ass-mean farm dog racing about ready to growl, snarl, and bite a chunk out of my ass, so that was a relief and scored points in his favor. I climbed out, his arm slipped around my waist, and as we walked to the house, he explained he was the youngest of three; an older brother and sister were already in college and he was the last one at home. They farmed the three hundred and sixty acres they owned and rented another two hundred and forty on which they planted and harvested soybeans and corns, with an occasional small crop of oats tossed in for good measure.

Approaching the back door, Scott suddenly stopped, acting as nervous as a lone mouse in a room full of hungry cats, very apprehensive, and took a very deep breath!

"Tony, I've never brought anyone home before. In fact, I've never dated anyone before either."

Before I could add, 'neither have I,' he continued, "Please don't laugh, it's just you're so beautiful and look at me- just a farm boy, a simple plough-boy who happens to be a good actor and little else!"

I stopped; incredulous he should make such a remark! I reached up with both hands and pulled his head down to mine and kissed him, long and deep. Finished, licking my lips, I declared, "Neither have I; only dreamed about what I read and saw on the Internet, but you're not a dream, you're real and I love it!"

He wrapped his arms around me and relaxed. "Let's go meet your folks," I announced, with a giggle and a wiggle and a flick of my head!

His arm still around me, holding me, securing me to him, we finished our walk up to the house and went inside. His mom met us as we came in through the kitchen.

"You're home early," she said in disbelief.

"Yeah; Mom this is my friend Tony. He's going to spend the night! We thought it wouldn't be as noisy and everything at home, so we came home early."

She smiled the same smile Scott had, gave me a hug, and welcomed me to their home. As she was doing that, his Dad, walked in and I was quickly introduced to him.

"So this is the Tony you talked about the whole time we were combining soybeans," he remarked teasingly, exhibiting a pleasant and warm welcoming smile along with a twinkling in his eyes, as Scott blushed red with embarrassment. Even though teased and embarrassed, he nodded "yes" and grinned, full of happiness and, yes, pride!

"Well, it's about time you brought him home and let us meet this handsome young man," his Dad continued and gave me a big hug also. Clearly, his mother and dad were comfortable with their gay son and his first date! Scott blushed again, smiled shyly, hearing his father saying aloud to me what Scott had been saying earlier concerning his attraction to me. It made me feel real good – somebody wanted me!

"Are you boys' hungry?" Scott's mom asked.

We both nodded, since the punch and cookies at the dance were barely enough to sustain a bird.

"I'll stick a couple of pizzas in the oven. Scott, take Tony downstairs to the family room and when they're done, I'll bring them down. There are sodas in the fridge under the bar, so help yourself; to the sodas, not the booze," she added with a chuckle.

Taking my hand, he led me down a short flight of stairs to a large room with a nice big digital television mounted on one wall and brick fireplace against another wall. A couple of couches and easy chairs, along with a small table and chairs, and a wet bar with stools, completed the furniture.

"You heard Mom," he relayed, "the bar is off limits!"

"That's okay with me," I assured him, "I don't drink and really have no desire to start this early in life."

Scott looked at me strangely. "Really? I thought all high school kids drank, did pills or something, except me!"

"Sorry; I don't do any of that! About the only naughty thing I do, if the preachers are right, is wank my pecker!"

"Me, too," Scott said with a strong belly laugh. "I was hoping you did!"

Sitting on the couch, waiting for the pizzas to be done, I cuddled up close to Scott, and accepted with satisfaction and comfort his arm around me. I sighed quietly, signaling my willingness and desire to be hugged and loved by him. We said very little, just sat and enjoyed the closeness of each other; except I was as hard as a railroad spike and if what I could see swelling in his crotch, he was too. I so bad wanted to kiss him and was working up to it when his mom announced she was coming downstairs with pizza.

She was accompanied by his dad and asked, "May we join you for a snack also?"

This time there was no embarrassment or hesitation as we both agreed. We had a great time, visiting, laughing, and sharing stories. I felt very comfortable and relaxed in their presence; not a bit concerned with my sexuality or my relationship with Scott, which was growing closer and closer the more we visited and sat together.

Finally, his father announced, "It's late and we're going to bed. You boys enjoy yourselves," and to me, "Tony, I hope we see you around here again."

"Tony can have the spare room," his mom suggested, "or he can bunk in with you Scott. Your bed is big enough for the two of you. Tony, if you do end up with him, I want to warn you; he snores something terrible. You may not get any sleep all night!"

I was hoping not!

They left and Scott and I sort of looked at each other, questioningly; trying to decide how to tell the other where we wanted to sleep, share the same bed; share each other and explore!

Scott broke the silence when he asked softly, hopefully, "Would you like to sleep with me?"

My head bobbed up and down like a yo-yo on a short string!

"I don't have any pajamas," I explained.

"Do we need them?"

"No," I giggled.

He did have a new toothbrush I could use. As we stood there, me in my blue bikinis and Scott in his low-rise plaid boxers, brushing our teeth, we'd look up from the sink at each other and grin! I was grinning because the one hand of his not holding his tooth brush was cupped under my right butt cheek, squeezing it ever so gently and he was grinning because he was doing it!

Once my mouth and toothbrush was rinsed, I said, "I gotta piss!"

"Me too!"

I fished my little rod out over the waistband of my briefs; Scott looked at it and asked, "Can I hold it for you?"

"Only if I can hold yours."

He pulled out through the fly of his boxers a cut cock, like mine, maybe an inch or two longer, a little thicker, but certainly not a monster by any means. Well, it was big as far as I was concerned. I reached over, encircled his warm, soft, velvety smooth penis, feeling it start to grow as I did so. God, it felt strange, me holding another guys' dick while he held mine, but it felt great! His hand, clasping my five inch rod, was warm, supple, and strangely satisfying. It was as if his hand was made for pleasuring me and mine for pleasuring him. It took a lot of will power and concentration for both of us to piss since our cocks were struggling to full mast.

As I dribbled to a halt, Scott stroked me up and down several times; "Just to get everything out," he explained.

Well, that's not all that was going to come out if he kept that up! Three slow, very erotic strokes, tickling the tip each time with a finger, brought me to a full cock-stand and lengthened his shaft as well, the nice fleshly pink-colored knob on the end beginning to swell in anticipation of the night yet to come.

"I think we need to go to my bedroom," he said with a grin.

Reluctant to release the velvety, now very stiff, male appendage of the other, I grinned my agreement, released him (as he did me), and followed him across the hall to do what we both longed to do. The lock on his bedroom door emitted a soft "click" as he locked it, ensuring our privacy. At the sound I turned slowly, my vision and my libido both on full alert and readiness, as Scott, sans underwear, was walking toward me, his very formidable pleasure pole sticking straight out in front of him, not straight up or drooping as some guys dicks do, but waggling back and forth in rhythm with his stride.

Standing in front of me, his hardness poking my belly-button, in preparedness for the pleasures to come, I started to peel off my briefs.

"Let me, please?" he pleaded softly.

Nodding my approval, Scott knelt in front me, his eyes clearly focused on the tent in my briefs. Using both hands, he pulled my briefs down and over my penis, releasing it from its entrapment, and open to his viewing delight.

"Nice!" he declared softly, lovingly, and leaning forward, HE TOOK ME IN HIS MOUTH! OH, MY GOD; SWEET JESUS!

It took every bit of self-control not to spew at that moment! Once his nose was buried in, and nuzzling my sparse pubic bush, he pulled back slowly on my length, flicked my cock-head with his nubile tongue, stuck his middle finger in his mouth to moisten it, and began pressing his soft, sensuous, lips around my heated shaft while spreading my legs, seeking my trembling rear portal. Finding that other entrance to my small body, his finger started a slow insertion, burying as deep as his last knuckle would allow!

Searching, until he found that special gland, the seemingly master gland of all things related to erections, secreting and stimulating offerings of sex in the human male, and began an erotic "flick," "flick," "flick" while he pumped his warm, moist, oral cavity up and down my tumescence. After about four journeys up and back on that short road, stimulating my twitching, throbbing boner on each trip, I fired; he swallowed; I fired again and he swallowed again and kept doing so until I shot my last!

Near collapse, I moaned, "Where did you learn to do that?"

"From the internet," Scott explained, standing, with finger still buried in my rectum, he gently pushed me back until I encountered his bed. His left arm, securing me, keeping me from falling, lowered me onto his love nest. Once on my back, my legs pulled up, he maneuvered his body so he was between my legs, and before withdrawing his finger, asked,

"May I?"

Nodding slowly my permission, I added tentatively, "I've never done it before."

"Neither have I. It's supposed to hurt," he added, "but I'll try to be careful."

Finger now extracted and put to other use as he searched his nightstand for some lotion, then finding some, he greased up his rod and my waiting receptacle. Placing his swollen cock-head against my anal ring, he leaned forward, wiggling hips, slowly inserting that instrument of pleasure, deeper and deeper until I felt his balls resting on mine.

It didn't hurt as I thought it might; in fact, it was quite pleasurable, more filling than anything else. He fit inside me as a hand does a glove and bore me no harm, as natural as if we were made specifically for each other. Humping my hips up, encouraging him to begin making love to me as only he could, locking my arms around his neck, bringing his sweet lips to mine, nibbling gently on them as I whispered in his face, "Love me, my sweet farm boy!"

Scott pumped and thrust into me with tenderness, longing, wanting, until he groaned, "I'm cummin'," and pushed forward as far and deep as he could, his cock expanding, pulsing his seed with each throbbing ejaculation, flooding me, breeding me, as his own.

"I cum a lot," he apologized, laying on me stomach to stomach in post-coital ecstasy, as he continued to flow until I could feel it began dripping from my no-longer-virgin rectum.

Such a deliciously erotic night we spent together! In the morning, when I awakened, his arms tight about me, I tipped my head back, asking, "I thought on a farm, the cock crowing in the morning awakened the plough-boy, not a cock growing on the plough-boy?"

"You heard wrong!" Scott answered with a laugh and began re-planting my field.

Thank you for reading "The Plough-Boy."

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Nick Hall

The Literary works of Nicholas Hall are protected by the copyright laws of the United States of America and are the property of the author. Positive comments are welcome and appreciated at: nick.hall8440@gmail.com

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The Plough-Boy

by Nicholas Hall