Hardcore

Keywords: Farm, Hands:, Curious..., Bi?,

On Friday, it rained. Hard. I mean, really hard. There"s no work to do on the barn when it rains. Oh sure, if we were as far along as working on the inside we could get something done there, but weren"t quite there yet, so I had the day off. A rainy, miserable Friday, with a long weekend yawning before me.

I sat dejectedly in the living room of my summer rental watching the rain run down the windowpane. As far as rental properties go, this one was a honey. The old farmhouse came complete with three bedrooms, two baths, a big sun porch, acres of land, and all for a song. Of course it helps that I know the owner and he cut me a deal since I was working on his barn for the summer, and that compared to rents in New York City, to where I"d be returning when the weather turned cold, just about anything was reasonable.

When I took the job, I guess I hadn"t realized how difficult it was going to be to put my life in the city on hold to spend the summer doing construction work on a farm. I liked the job, and as long as I could go out and actually work I was fine. It was the down time that made me restless and edgy. Rural New Hampshire is not exactly a hotbed of social activity, and there"s not much of a gay scene. Let"s face it, folks—one boy bar in a 75-mile radius does not a scene make.

Of course, part of my problem was more that mere homesickness and lack of social stimulation. My problem was Vic. It"s never a good idea to get your freak on with your job foreman, even if he is young and good-looking. I knew this full well, just as I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him that he was so my type. Well, okay so he claimed he was straight, but I never like to let a little thing like that slow me down. It wasn"t the first time I"d heard that! Besides, I swear I had only planned to use him as a summer conquest, a sweet, dirty little fling to keep me warm in the winter when I was battling the slushy streets of Manhattan and the limp advances of jaded chorus queens. Vic was hot and fresh and as full of promise as a summer morning, and I really didn"t want a serious relationship, just a roll in the hay. Which there was plenty of, I should add. Hay, that is.

To my delighted surprise, Vic was a great deal more open to shall we say, "sexual experimentation" than I originally anticipated. He greeted my advances almost from the get-go with open arms—and legs. He was an avid and willing pupil, and his hard, strong, tanned body had made the hot summer literally fly by. I didn"t even miss the bright lights and big city all that much when we were lying together on a warm night, holding hands and searching the enormous black sky for shooting stars.

Now, I knew all along that he didn"t consider himself to be "gay", or even bi for that matter. He made it clear that for as much as he liked to fool around with me, at the end of the day he really couldn"t live without pussy. I knew what he was talking about; because while I"m not averse to a little trim myself, it"s not something I want a steady diet of. His sexual preference was just fine and dandy with me. At least I thought it was—at first. Remember, he was nothing, just some out-of-town sex. And I was just supposed to be something kinky on the side; sort of a little foray down a gay side street for him.

So here"s the rub…

You see, I made a fatal mistake. The fatal mistake. I fell for Vic, and I fell hard. I didn"t care that he was straight. I didn"t give a rat"s ass that I was just some sexy fun for him. Hell, I could even get past it when he said he was going to try out some of my "moves" with his girlfriend Randi. None of that mattered a bit when his arms were around me, and his lips were pressed to mine.

In those precious golden moments I could tell myself that there was something more. Call me the King of Delusion if you want, but when we were together, I was sure he felt the same way, that his heart was coming along for the ride too.

And as long as I didn"t really think about it too hard, like when we were working side by side, it wasn"t a problem. Then it had to go and rain. As I sat and looked out across the soaking wet lawn into the fog, I thought about him. He"d have gone back to sleep when he saw that it was pouring outside. His sun-kissed hair would be tousled against his white pillowcase, his naked body relaxed and easy in sleep. His dick would be semi-hard, maybe stirring occasionally if he was having a particularly enjoyable dream. Maybe it would be about me.

But then he"d reach over in his half-sleep of morning and drape his arm around Randi, and she curl up against him, her soft ass creating a warm nest for his wonderful cock. He"d pull her to him, unconsciously caressing the soft curve of her breast as they slept, his breath warm on her neck. Maybe he"d wake her with a gentle kiss, his wonderful searching hands seeking and roaming and touching…her.

It was at times like that I knew he wasn"t mine to keep.

I sat there alone in the gloom feeling sorry for myself. And stupid that I could have felt that there was something more between us than just animal sex. Wasn"t I the one that told him that it was okay to separate love from sex? Well, okay, maybe it was a ploy to get him into my rented bed, but still. Well, there"s the lesson in all of this for you: practice what you preach, you know?

Just when I was about to give in completely to the Eeyores and add a shot of Baileys to my coffee, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey." It was him. Hmmm. Not feeling so glum all of a sudden. Be cool.

"What"s up?"

"Nothin". Fuckin" pouring out there." Vic was in charge of the painfully obvious this morning, as usual.

"Yup," I agreed. What else could I do? It was fuckin" pourin" out there.

"You doin" anything tonight?" he asked.

"You say that like there is anything to do," I retorted.

"You want to hang out later?"

Did I want to hang out? Jeez, let me think.

"Sure," I said casually. "What did you have in mind?"

"I dunno. Play it by ear, I guess. I"ll pick you up at eight."

So forceful, so decisive. So manly. "Sure," I said again.

Click. Cool. I had a date with Vic. I just had to kill twelve hours in the meantime.

I won"t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that I made it through the longest day on Earth since the creation of time. I spent plenty of time getting dressed, though. I wore a great pair of jeans: my ass looked perfect in them. My shirt was one of those snug fitting knit things that cling in all the right places. Luckily a few months of hard labor had defined all those right places or I"d have had to choose something else. I appraised the results in the mirror, turning and checking myself out from all angles. No major visible flaws detected. Could use a bit more definition in the abs, but my guns looked good. I"d do me. I was just about to tuck my wallet in my back pocket, when I noticed my leather cock ring sitting on the dresser. Should I? Would he think it was sexy, or just too cheesy for words?

I decided to go for it. It"s not like I wear it around all the time. I unzipped and pulled out the little guy. I shouldn"t call him that, really. It"s not exactly true, and besides, his feelings might get hurt. I snapped the leather harness into place, one strap behind my balls and the other in front. I never failed to get a little hard just from the sexy tightness of it, and I gotta tell you, it greatly improved my overall profile, if you catch my drift.

Vic was on time as usual. He had Randi"s car, which kind of pissed me off a little. Rub my nose in it, why don"t you? Actually, I wasn"t really that put out. She had—get this—a 1965 Ford Cobra with a stroked 427 V-8, forged rods & pistons, aluminum head & intake, race ported with titanium valves/springs, 800 cfm 4 barrel Holley, MSD ignition, dual electric fans, silver ceramic coated headers and side pipes & a 4 speed manual, all synchromesh tranny to boot. Yeah, way more car than a girl her age needs. The car both kicked and hauled ass. I wouldn"t mind owning it myself. Especially when he tore off down the road, kicking up dirt and gravel and taking corners easily at sixty. It"s a guy thing. Still, it was hers. I was ticked off just on principal.

It"s been my personal experience that a guy can forget his troubles in the right car, with the right person behind the wheel. We were tearing around at what felt like warp speeds, that goddess of an engine roaring at the top of her lungs. Vic handled the car expertly and that beauty hugged every corner without so much as a single squeal. For a while I didn"t even think to wonder where we were going. It was enough to just be running wide open on the interstate, flying over the rain-slicked highway in a silver blur. We didn"t talk; we just sat back and enjoyed the ride.

Vic was pretty buffed up himself, but then I was so used to seeing him—and having him, for that matter—dirty and sweaty from working all day, that this clean, sweet-smelling boy was driving me crazy. I was definitely filling out my jeans, that"s for sure.

We pulled up in front of a rather seedy looking building. The sign out front let me know that I was at "Mark"s Showplace" and the one on the door told me that I had to be 21 to get in. I reached for my wallet to show my ID, but the bouncer at the door slapped Vic on the back and waved us through. Since I knew that Vic was still two years shy of being able to enter this establishment legally, I had to assume that he knew someone.

I was right.

On the main stage, surrounded by about fifteen or twenty guys, was Randi. Vic"s Randi. She was as naked as the day she was born, writhing to the pounding bass of "You Can Leave Your Hat On," the Joe Cocker version. I"ll be damned if she didn"t have good taste in music too. She saw us as she came in and blew Vic a kiss, never missing a beat as she squatted and picked a folded dollar bill up off a guys face. Without using her hands, I might add.

We didn"t sit right up close but took a small table toward the back.

Keywords: Farm, Hands:, Curious..., Bi?,

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