Farmhand: How filthy can one farmhand get?

A desire to be used by multiple men comes to fruition

The sun was beating down on me. Another roasting hot day in rural America. I loaded the last of the hay into the barn off the truck. My muscles were screaming. It was my first summer working on any kind of farm, doing manual labor. It was a break from college—a summer job.

Sunnybright Farms had an assortment of income streams. There were miles of vegetable fields. Corn, green beans, cabbage, carrots, cucumbers, and onions. And a few cattle for beef. They even had an orchard full of apples. The hay I was unloading was for the horses they kept on the farm for trail rides. It was a family business. Sometimes it felt like anything goes.

And the work was hard. But varied. As soon as I was done with the hay, I was supposed to walk the onion and carrot fields to make sure everything looked in good shape. Tomorrow, I would be helping one of the other farmhands repair a fence, maybe plant a few new posts.

I shoved the last bale of hay in place then climbed back down the ladder. I'd had to haul every bale up that damned ladder. Automation was scarce at Sunnybright.

I grabbed my shirt, slipped it back on, and headed for the main house. It was lunchtime. As well as having a place to live, the farm supplied us with three square meals a day. They were usually significant meals which I packed in as best I could. When I first started working on the farm, I had dropped about fifteen pounds. Weight I could ill afford to lose.

I was lean. At twenty-one, I had yet to fill out fully. But I was muscular. More so since I started at the farm three weeks ago. Dirty blond hair and blue eyes completed the picture. My face; the guys seemed to like what I was offering. The ones I had found in the vast, empty prairie.

The closest thing we had to a pickup spot was the town's country bar. Slim pickings. Mostly a bunch of straight guys. Not that them being straight guys stopped them. I'd had the same guys over and over again. I was looking for something a bit more exciting.

"Shaun."

I turned to hear who had spoken my name. It was Rex, the farm's general manager. He was a tall drink of cold water on a hot day. Dark, broody … and gorgeous. I'd had dreams about him. Woken up more than a few times with damp, sticky sheets.

"What's up?" I crossed my arms, expecting Rex to give me some more work to do before I had a chance to eat my lunch.

"You headed in for lunch?"

"Just on my way."

Rex copied my stance by crossing his arms. "You going into town tonight?"

I sighed. "Probably." I placed my hands on my hips. "I'm honestly getting bored. The same guys weekend after weekend. Guys willing to walk the line are few and far between around here."

"What if I had a different idea?"

Now, that piqued my interest. Maybe Rex was ready to give me a ride. I had dropped enough hints on him in the weeks I had been working here. He would be a conquest worth having.

"Some of the guys and me were talking."

Some of the guys?

I smiled. Now, this did sound interesting. "What did you have in mind?"

"Meet us in the barn around eleven after the family is in bed."

My cock pulsed, hardening against my zipper. It pinched. I had a habit of not wearing underwear. It gave me a thrill to know I was walking around commando.

That my cock was so accessible.

"I'll be there." I winked at Rex for good measure, but he just looked me up and down, turned away, and headed for the house. There was some uncertainty in the way he had looked at me.