The Farmer & Dale

Dale's stomach clenched. The man walked with a grace and confidence that sent a shiver down his spine. This was a man filled with self assurance, a man in charge of himself, a man who could easily take control of any situation. It was there, plainly stated, written in the very air between them. Dale felt his breath ratchet a notch higher. He silently admonished himself to stop being ridiculous. This farmer was after all, just a man, a man just like any other man.

That thought came to a screeching halt when the man removed his sunglasses.

Dale found himself pinned by a gaze of laser-like intensity that left him breathless. He stared into the most vividly beautiful, blue-green eyes he'd ever seen. They were shaded by perfect fans of honey colored lashes. The corners of his eyes showed light laugh lines. Dale was caught and held, momentarily paralyzed, frozen until the man held out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Rick Hunter. You must be Mrs. Vaden's grandson. We sure were sorry to hear about her passing. She was a sweet lady."

Dale broke from his paralysis, taking Rick's hand in a firm grip. He was grateful now that he'd kept using those hand strengtheners. Rick's grip was strong, the muscles and sinews in his hand powerful, uncompromising, and yet surprisingly gentle. He was a man well aware of his strength and careful to not cause unintentional hurt.

The warmth of Rick's hand swept over Dale. To his everlasting embarrassment he felt himself blush, a fact that had him silently cursing. He hadn't blushed since he was an adolescent, not even Tony had had this effect on him.

Dale nervously cleared his throat, "Hi," he managed, "and thanks. Grams was a sweetheart, she'll be missed. I'm Dale, by the way, Dale Vaden."

Rick nodded, "Pleased to meet you Dale. While I was in the neighborhood, so to speak, thought I'd stop and introduce myself, see if there's anything you need."

A smile graced Dale face. A smile that, unbeknownst to him, took a certain farmers breath away. "Thanks, Rick, you know, I could use the name of someone who could help me clear out these trees. Would you happen to know of anyone off hand?"

Rick gave the trees a considering look, "I could help you. Dad's got a backhoe at his place, just down the road. We could knock these down and pull them out in no time. When do you want to start?"

Taken aback by Rick generous offer, Dale was momentarily speechless, then rallied, "Wow, that's really nice of you to offer, but I'm sure you've already got plenty to keep you busy." He indicated the field behind them.

"Actually, I'm pretty much done."

"I admit I don't know squat about farming, but don't you have to plow the fields and all that?" Dale asked.

Rick grinned, "You're right, city boy, you don't know farming. We use the no-till method. No plowing. We spray fertilizer and weed control. Plant the seed and it's done. It's the harvest where all the work is now. These fields are done. Between me, my dad, and my brother, we get this part of the chore done pretty quick. So how about it? I've got the time, when do you want to start?"

Dale gave in gratefully, "Tomorrow?"

"You got it, I'll be here about seven. Does that suit you? Or is that too early for a city boy?" Rick teased.

"I think I can handle that, farm boy. I'll see you at seven." Dale retorted with a grin.

Rick returned the grin, slid his sunglasses back on and headed for the tractor. Dale couldn't help watching the movement of the nicely curved cheeks that filled out the seat of Rick's jeans. He surreptitiously adjusted himself. The man was every bit as devastating walking away.

With a couple of well placed and practiced steps, Rick swung himself back up on the tractor. He pulled on his gloves and started the beast up. With a wave, he headed off across the field, Dale's gaze following. An errant breeze sent a lock of hair fluttering across his forehead. As he reached up to push it away, he noticed the smell.

Leather and sweat. Rick's gloves and Rick's sweat. Dale inhaled deeply, his cock responding instantly, filling, elongating, demanding to be set free of its imprisoning and too tight confinement. Dale looked around. The nearest neighbor was the Hunters, a quarter mile down the road, and his place was surrounded by open fields. Even in this ravaged grove, he was semi- sheltered. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He'd never masturbated outside. This was too good an opportunity to be missed, especially with Rick's scent urging him on.

Dale unbuttoned his 501's, pushing them and his briefs down just enough to free himself. His cock sprang free, fiercely rigid and ready. The tip was already leaking. He leaned back against a tree and closed his eyes. Taking another deep lung-full of Rick's scent, he wrapped his aromatic fingers around the thick column of meat that demanded release.

Dale gave a grunt and tensed as he began the familiar movements. His fingers squeezed and stroked. He reached down with his left hand, holding his seven and a half inch length steady as his palm swept over the wet, purple hued head, spreading precum. A groan inched its way out of his throat. He brought his right hand back to his face for another whiff of Rick. The scent was now mingled with his own. His tongue flicked out, sliding over his palm, tasting the tart, tangy flavors of precum, sweat and leather. The combination was potent. He anointed his palm with saliva, took hold of his cock and began to steadily jack himself. The pleasure built with each stroke, quickly reaching the point of no return.

"Ah God!," he gasped as his load blew. Repeated spurts of thick, white cum arced out and away from his straining body, draping over the grass, sliding down the stems to feed the earth below. Dale's knees gave out. He dropped down, head bent as he rested for a moment. As his breath and heartbeat slowly restored themselves, he opened his eyes and looked around. All was quiet. He grinned and shook his head as he laughed weakly.

Jeez, I gotta get out more, he confessed to himself as he slowly rose. Dale tucked himself in, ambling back to the house. He found himself looking eagerly forward to tomorrow and as for now? His goal was the pitcher of iced tea that graced his refrigerator.

* * *

Dale finished the last dish and placed it in the drainer. Seven a.m., right on time. He could hear the approaching drone of a heavy piece of machinery. He shook his head and smiled, Rick was true to his word. Fortunately, Dale was an early riser, he'd been up since five. He covered the draining dishes with a dishtowel, unlocked the door between the kitchen and the mud room, unlocked the back door and stepped out.

It was another beautiful day. The sky was clear blue, a few clouds moving majestically overhead. Dale followed the concrete walk around to the front of the house and down to the gravel driveway, just as Rick turned in. He could clearly see the big grin plastered to Rick's face. That shit, he thought fondly, he didn't think I'd be up.

Dale motioned Rick to drive on back to the grove. He stopped back in the mud room for a pair of leather gloves, a wry smile on his face as he held them to his nose and took a sniff. He shook his head. It just wasn't the same without Rick's contribution. Walking back to the grove, he watched Rick climb down, then reach across the floorboards for something. He pulled first one, then a larger, long, bulky, black case from the backhoe.

Rick set both cases on the ground and waited for Dale. "I see you're up." he quipped as Dale reached him.

"Yeah, man, it was a real chore." Dale rejoined sarcastically.

Rick laughed and slapped him playfully on the back, "No, man, the real chores are about to begin. You ever use a chainsaw?"

Dale's brows rose as he shook his head.

"Well, you're about to learn, that is if you're not a total klutz. You're not one of these people who trip over their own feet are you?" For some reason Rick seemed to enjoy the hell out of teasing Dale.

"I can walk and chew gum at the same time, if that's what you're asking."

"Good, in fact that's great. So here's the plan."

Rick gave Dale the rundown. Rick was going to start at the outside edge of the grove and pull out a half dozen trees and haul them further up into the yard where Dale could work on them. Dale was to use the smaller chainsaw, cutting the branches off which they'd gather in one big pile. As soon as Rick got the trees down, he'd use the bigger chainsaw and go to work on the trunks of the trees, cutting them into manageable pieces. He asked Dale if he wanted to save any of the wood for his fireplace, to which Dale replied in the affirmative. It was decided they'd save the best wood for Dale's use, and burn the branch pile. Rick had already alerted a buddy of his that there was some wood to be hauled at the Vaden place, so the rest would be taken care of by his friend.

"You don't waste any time do you?" Dale asked in amazement. Rick had the whole thing planned out.

"Farmer's can't waste time, wasted opportunities can mean the difference between getting in the harvest, as opposed to watching it rot in the field while it rains." he explained with a wry smile, his blue-green eyes twinkling. "Now, let's get you checked out on the chainsaw."

Rick opened the smaller case, brought out the chainsaw and explained its operation to Dale. He donned safety glasses, handing Dale a second pair. Using one of the trees that was already on the ground, he demonstrated the chainsaw's proper use, then handed it over to Dale. He watched as Dale, at first hesitantly, then with growing confidence, wielded it. He corrected a few things concerning his stance, making sure he handled it in the safest possible way. Satisfied, Rick climbed on the backhoe and they began.

Dale found Rick's closeness a bit of a distraction at first. He'd worried he might throw a bone as they worked together. He felt like groaning as he watched Rick's tight ass do interesting things as he mounted the backhoe. Several hours later, his one worry was, would he make it through the day.

By no means out of shape, Dale ate right and exercised regularly, but this he was unprepared for, this intense physical labor. Rick on the other hand seemed to breeze through the day. Granted he spent part of it operating the backhoe, but after the trees were down, he took up the big chainsaw and began cutting the tree trunks. The chainsaw he used was far larger than the one Dale wielded. Dale felt the strain in the muscles of his arms, shoulders and back. Muscles he wished he could remain ignorant of were clamoring their protests. He could only imagine their silent screams had he been using the large chainsaw all day.

The men stopped for lunch, walking back to the house. Dale had a variety of cold cuts and cheeses from which they constructed sandwiches. They also munched on cut up veggies, which they dipped in ranch dressing. Dale offered beer and was about to take one for himself, until Rick vetoed the idea. No drinking while operating the chainsaws, he insisted. They settled for iced tea, Rick also insisting that Dale drink at least one large glass of water as well, to avoid dehydration.

Both men had worked up quite a sweat and had dispensed with their shirts on the walk back to the house. Dale had perked up at the sight. He had to admit that the scenery had vastly improved when Rick peeled off his clinging tee. There was no denying the man was built. Farm chores had done wonders for his physique.

Rick's pecs were firm, solid, slabs of muscle that shifted smoothly with each movement. He ran his hands over the damp, golden hair that had been matted down by sweat, his nipples firming at the contact. Dale shivered. His own nipples tightened, not only from the random breezes that cooled his sweat-dampened skin, but from Rick's actions and the sight of each hard level of his washboard abs. With his broad shoulders, tightly muscled arms, vee shaped torso that flowed down to trim waist, perfectly proportioned hips and legs, Rick was a woman's, not to mentions a gay or bi man's, wet dream come true. Dale would have been surprised to know that Rick was casting more than a few glances his way. The same breeze that caused Dale's nipples to pinch tight, had brought his warm musky scent to Rick's nostril. Not only did his nose register the scent, but his cock had as well. He was glad when they reached the house, and he could excuse himself to use the bathroom. He washed up, splashing cold water on his face and the back of his neck. All the while he kept picturing Dale.

Of similar height, Dale being an inch or two shorter, he was possessed of, what Rick thought of as an athlete's build. Lean and strong, with firm bundles of muscles in his arms and legs, his chest and stomach were taut and solid, his buttocks tight, with an enticing flex that occurred when he walked or bent. The dark reddish brown hair that topped his head also lightly covered his forearms and chest. Rick cussed softly as he recalled those tightly pinched nipples. The thought of taking one into his mouth to nibble, had his cock standing at attention. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled a rueful smile. I gotta get laid, he thought.

He opened his jeans and with some maneuvering and some judiciously placed cold water, his protesting erection subsided. He shivered, thinking once again of the advantage women had over men. At least they could hide when they were horny, instead of having their bodies broadcast it to who ever happened to look their way. He wondered what Dale would think if he came out of the bathroom with a hardon. A nifty little fantasy began in his head. He pictured Dale, falling to his knees, eager to swallow his raging rod. Said rod began responding. Rick sighed, and again applied the cold water. This time he kept his mind blank, and tucking his chastened appendage away, rejoined Dale.

After lunch, they donned their shirts, which had dried out in the sun where they'd left them draped over an old clothes line. Picking up where they left off, they continued for several more hours, until Rick called a halt. He'd watched Dale carefully and knew that he was sore and tired. Hell, he was tired himself. They packed the chainsaws into their cases and carried them up to the house, leaving them in the mud room.

Dale opened the refrigerator and indicating the beer, asked, "Now?"

Rick grinned, "Now."

Dale handed him a long necked bottle, each twisting off the cap and taking a deep swallow. Twin sighs of pleasure and relief echoed in the room.

Rick studied Dale's tired face, "Too much for you, city boy?" He asked, with teasing concern.

"Truth?" Dale replied, "Just about. I haven't been this tired since...hell, I'm not sure I've ever been this tired." He took another swig of his beer.

Rick set his bottle down and moved behind Dale, his big hands closing over his shoulders where he began a firm, soothing massage. Such a move was natural for Rick, his family was casually demonstrative, easily exchanging hugs, hand shakes, and kisses.

Dale couldn't help the groan that crawled from his throat. He'd tensed at Rick's initial touch, but it wasn't possible to remain tense while Rick worked magic on muscles that screamed for relief.

"Here's what you do." Rick told him as he worked Dale's aching muscles, "Run a tub full of water, hot as you can stand it, throw in some Epsom salts, if you have any, and soak. Then get your ass to bed, cause there's more of the same tomorrow, buddy." He released Dale with a firm pat on the back and took up his beer, gulping it down.

"I'm going to leave the backhoe and walk down to mom and dad's. There's no sense driving it back when were going to be using it for the next few days." Rick told him as he headed out the back door.

Dale followed, "Well wait a second, I can give you ride."

Rick snorted. "Save your gas, man, it's just a quarter mile," he scoffed, "but thanks for the offer. Now go take that bath. You're a might odiferous, if you know what I mean."

No way was he going to admit just how much he liked that odor or how much it turned him on. Not to mention the kind of ride he really wanted.

Dale grinned and called after him, "You better take your own advice, you're not exactly a sweet rosebud yourself."

Rick flipped him off and headed down the driveway. The sound of Dale's laughter melted over him, a feeling of well-being suffusing him. As he walked, his smile faded, his stomach tightening, quivering.

"Dale Vaden." he whispered. His stomach did a flip. Oh God, he thought, I think I'm in trouble. Anticipation and dread warred as he arrived at his parent's house, unlocked his truck, climbed inside and headed home.

* * *

The next two days passed in the same way. At lunch, which they always ate shirtless, they talked, taking the opportunity to get to know each other. Rick questioned Dale about his occupation, intrigued when Dale revealed he was a writer.

"What kind of books do you write?" he asked, "I don't recall reading anything with your name on it." Rick fired the first salvo in their usual badger sessions.

"To begin with, I write under a pseudonym. You know what that means, don't you, farm boy?" Dale had taken to teasing Rick, just as much as Rick teased him.

"Uh gee, I ain't sure mister, splain it to me, would you, please?" Rick's feigned stupidity caused them both to chuckle.

"All right, smart ass, Keith Adams, that's the name I write under." Dale confessed a bit sheepishly.

He was always reluctant for people to know his pen name. Like many writers, he felt parts of himself were displayed in each book. If a person knew he was the author, they could also reveal those parts of himself he'd just as soon keep hidden, Anonymity was comforting.

Rick gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding?"

Dale denied it with a shake of his head.

"Man, I've got every single one of your books!" he enthused, "Your last one, Bake Sale, man, some of those scenes literally had me howling. When the one chef was killed by the exploding cake? Even though the death itself wasn't funny, the tongue in cheek way you wrote the scene was brilliant. I gotta tell you Dale, that was black humor at its finest."

Again for the first time in years, Dale felt himself blush. Rick's praise and enthusiasm touched him like no other. To say he was pleased was an understatement.

"Thanks, man, I'm glad you liked it. I thought it turned out rather well myself."

"Wait til the neighbors hear we've got a celebrity in our midst." Rick continued, until he noticed the somewhat panicked expression on Dale's face. "What's wrong?"

Dale took a deep breath, "I'd just as soon you didn't mention this to anyone." He paused for a moment, considering his words, "I've had a few problems, in the past, from over-zealous fans. I feel like a fool even having to say that, but some people get carried away. You'd think they'd save that shit for movie stars and such, but I guess some people aren't too discriminating."

Rick nodded his understanding, "I won't say a word. And what do you mean by that, aren't too discriminating, crap? You're a talented, good-looking man. I might stalk you, if I had a few drinks in me." Rick sought to lighten the mood and succeeded.

Dale pursed his lips, frowning, "You asshole, let's go back to work."

* * *

The fourth day began much the same as the first three, Rick arrived promptly at seven and swung out of his truck. He made his way around to the back and entered, smiling as the familiar smell of coffee wafted to his nostrils. He stepped through the doorway to find a cup waiting on the table. A grin lit his face as he seated himself and brought the pungent brew to his nose, inhaling deeply before ingesting that first exquisite sip. A heartfelt groan of appreciation rumbled in his chest.