Hey, guys .. me again... the old CNJ guy ... Don't know quite why I suddenly got this idea and recollection, but ... now I'm gonna inflict it on you! For those of you who don't know what is in this site .. go look around... and if you are too young, or in the wrong place ... get out now. Otherwise, sit back, read, and I hope you enjoy.
A Little Line Dancin'
Most of you know by now that I'm Peter and I grew up on a farm in the south-central US... just a hop, skip, and jump from East Texas.
Well, that's where this story really begins. After high school, I went to a local junior college and got my AA in 'Farm Management" and took my little scroll and headed out looking for a future.
Eventually, I found a place just southwest of Texarkana that needed a strong bodied guy to toss hay bales around. True... not quite what I was looking for, but hunger and a place to live sooner or later trumps abject poverty. Honestly, my parents hadn't kicked me out, but they were getting just a bit ready to say "go!".
So, I swallowed my pride -- and that piece of paper, the one that says that Peter Engles is a graduate -- and took the job.
Actually, it wasn't so bad. The owner lived in Dallas and was never there and the guy that ran the place wasn't so bad either - when (and so not often) he was sober. The other 'field hands' were all just basic 'workers' - mostly Mexican with a couple of who- knows-whats.
Dave, the then "field foreman" was nice enough. I, unfortunately, can't say that for his wife, Shirley. Wow!!! When Shakespeare wrote about the "shrew" .. he was looking into the future for his example!!!
While he was drinking most of the day, she was shouting obscenities at him - and at us!!!
It might have been bearable if she was a good cook - after all, she was our grub-wagon. .. But.. damn!! That woman could make fried eggs taste like cow-shit!!! True, I've never tasted the latter, but I've stepped in enough of it and smelled it!!!
Anyway... I spent my days out in the fields driving the tractor for planting, or just tilling for some bit of rotation (with alfalfa or soy beans). Then pulling the mower and baler, and eventually tossing the hay bales into the barn... All that usual stuff. We did have some cotton and a little corn, and they, of course, took their turn. Then, of course, there was taking care of the garden. It was about 1/4 acre, but did a good job of feeding most of us 'hands'. Down on the south end of the place we had some pasture and about 50 head of white-faced Herefords. It was sort of the "ideal" or "typical" farm for the area - and even with the cattle it was more "farm" than "ranch".
I'd been there about a year when the "shit hit the fan" !!
The owner showed up one day, unexpectedly, and found Dave passed out in the barn.
When he hollered for Shirley, she told him to go to hell !!!
The next two minutes were needing a camera-man !!! The shouting, the screeching.. oh.. if it could only have been captured on film. Someone would have an Oscar !!!!
In the next few minutes, Dave and Shirley had been told to pack up and get out ... and then he turned to me and said "You have the sheepskin... You are now in charge!"
"Hunh?" I responded, so articulately.
"I said, you are now 'in charge'," he repeated.
...and I said the only thing that a guy there, then, and in my age, could say: "Yes, sir."
Then, I sort of stuttered, "..but who's gonna cook for us?"
"Go into town and find someone," he answered. "You are 'in charge'," he repeated.
"You do think you can handle it, can't you?" he continued.
"Well..... yes,sir... I think I can."
"I don't want 'think' .. can you do it, Pete?" he countered. Oh, I hate that. "Please don't call me 'Pete'," just raced through my mind .. but stayed out of my mouth this time!!
"Yes, sir.... I can," I responded without any hesitation that time.
"Yes, sir... and thank you for the opportunity," I added.
...and there I was.. the 'man in charge' of a very profitable farm/ranch - at the ripe old age of 21. At least I was now old enough to drink a legal beer in celebration.
Then I damned near collapsed. This was what I wanted. This was what I studied for. But now .. the weight began to descend on my shoulders. I had watched my father run a farm for some years while I was growing up, but also remembered that he gave that up and we moved back to town and he got what he called a "real job". I still don't know why he used that term, because farming is about as "real" a job as you can get, and maybe that's why I have ended up back on the soil.
Fighting against it, I began to survey what I was expected to do - and to be.
Harley, the owner, turned and started to head back to his big, black, Lincoln Navigator, as the though crossed my mind (which it did whenever he came out to the farm), "why isn't he riding a bike with a name like that?"
After all, he was a stocky, fairly-well muscled, guy that would look good in jeans and leathers. (Oh, damn!! Where did that thought come from??!)
"Hey, ....Sir....," I shouted..."I need to know how to contact you..." I don't know shit at this point!"
Turning back, he handed me his business card. "My cell is there. I am available anytime that I'm not in a meeting... but you leave a message and I'll call back. Okay?"
"Yes, sir," I replied.
As he started the engine and backed away, he opened his driver-side window and gave me his last comment. "..and I expect some improvement with you here now."
What else could I say .. but..... "Yes, sir."
I finally looked down at the card and saw "Harley Rostoff, Investment and Financial Counselling" .. and a Dallas address and number. Two things came to mind. First, I had never known his last name -- and then I guessed that he had bought this farm as a tax loss and it had ended up turning around and was now a profitable side-line. Maybe, some day, I'll ask him.
The next few months were really a blur. It had been mid-summer when the boss was here.. and now it was fall.... And I had seemed to develop a 'decent relationship' with the 'hands'.
The beans were drying, and about ready for harvesting. The cotton was starting to open, so we were busy doing pre-use maintenance to the picking machines. ... We had already sold some of the beef cattle.. and... oh, yeah, .. I had found a somewhat elderly lady, named Gladys, to come in daily and cook for us. It was old down-home cooking and well received by the guys. They kept telling her that even the toast "must be from the land of milk and honey".
We had all developed a smooth working relationship. I think most of the guys realized that I really cared - for them and what they did, and what we could do together.
It was really about that time that I first had any thoughts about 'together'... or any of those guys individually..
I had gone all the way through school totally focused on my goals and ambitions. I had never really dated - oh.. yeah... I'd played under the skirt of a few girls ... but never even thought of playing around with any of the guys.
Now here I was.. in my very horny 20's in eastern Texas...and finally in a position that I could sit back and once in while really relax.
The problem was.... Total 'relaxation' also was most often accompanied by a major erection! And when I say "major" ... I mean that.. I had a 9inch bone that just kept trying to rip it's way out of my jeans !!!
It was that one day that I was sitting on the front porch, "relaxing", and, of course my cock was just doing it's own thing ... when Manuel walked up.
I tried to hide things, but, obviously, it was too late.
"Ohhh, Senor Pedro, you seem to have a problem.."
"We all get that 'problem' some times, Manuel" I answered.
"But do we all have an answer to it," he asked.
"Not that often," I replied.
"Can I help?" Manuel asked as he reached forward and wrapped his hand around as much as he could with the intervening jeans.
"Ohhh, fuck!" I muttered.
"You like?" he asked.
"Ohhh, shit!! Yeah!!"
"You know .. you are one hot gringo?"
"Thanks... I think.. and ....?"
"I am going to make you feel really good." He finally answered.
The next thing I knew, he had opened my belt and jeans and was kneeling between my legs and had his mouth over my cockhead.
"Ohhhhhhhh... fucckkkkk...... Ohhhhhhh jeeeeezzzz!" I moaned.
What had I missed all those years ... I didn't have any sex experience ... with either sex... and although I thought that sex between two guys was wrong .. why was I feeling this way?? Oh, damn!!!! That felt good ..
That's when he licked his finger and the next thing I knew he had it pushed into my virgin hole.
"Ohhhhhhhh... fucckkkkk...!" I repeated.
"I have something better," he said as he stood up and showed me his 5-inch uncut tool.
"Yeah... let me feel that!" I moaned in expectation.
"Lie down on the floor," he instructed.
I really wasn't sure then if I were still standing, or already lying down... It took a moment for me to orient myself and then lie down on the hard wood floor.
"Now .. lift your legs, Senor Pedro," he continued.
Not arguing, I just pulled my knees up to my chest and opened my ass to that hot little guy and that oh-so-appealing uncut cock.
"Eees just right," I heard him say as he got between my legs and placed that juicy rod against my overly-sensitive pucker.
"Oh, fuck, yeah!" he murmured as he pushed lightly and that wonderful pre-cum lubed head penetrated my virgin hole.
"Oh... fuck... yeah !!!!" I repeated as he slowly sank into me.
"Oh... fuck... yeah !!!!" I repeated again as I felt that sweet uncut cock bottomed out into my chute.
"Yes!! Yes!!! Manuel!! ... fuck my ass!! .. fuck me good!! .. jam that sweet baby in me!!!"
...and he did... WOW!!! Could that guy fuck ass !!!! He was pounding me like a stallion gone wild. I could see his own sweet little ass pounding up and down and around and side-to-side.
"Awwwwww.... Mi amigo!!" he began to shout ... "Awwwwwwwwwwwww!!!" and I knew what was about to happen.
One more "Awwwww...." Then "Oh... Ohh.. Ohhhhhh!!" and I felt the first of his jet- painter shots as it coated my guts. I swear I could almost taste it, he shot so hard and deep.
Driving and rooting into me, he just kept shooting more and more latin spunk into me. I had never had such an experience. ...and I was just loving it.
"Hey, Paco," he shouted, not yet moving out of my hole.
That really confused me. Who's "Paco"? I thought, "none of the hands that I know - and I hope by now I know them all -- is "Paco"??
About that time the door opened and another one of the 'farm hands' came in, and, as I watched, he stripped off his clothes and came over to the bed. I knew him as "Jorge", so don't ask me why "they" called him "Paco".
As I watched, there was another 5'6", tanned and toned guy (maybe 35? ..but who cared) with another beautiful, but considerably longer, 7 or so inches of uncut cock heading my way. It was just 'classic' in it's shape and proportions - with a great upward curve.
"Ohhh, Senor Pedro, my turn," he said.
With that he jumped onto the bed and pushed me back onto my back. I was already imagining that gorgeous cock following the same trail and eventually spending a major load into me, when he positioned himself between my legs and all but swallowed my aching balls!!
All I could say was "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuckkkkkkkk!" as the wet warmth enclosed my scrotum, and my back arched up off the mattress.
Somehow, Manuel had extricated himself from me and was now sitting squaw-like on his legs watching the next scene.
And what a scene. Paco (or Jorge, or whatever his real name was) had me in a mouth- hold that was not going to go away soon. Oh... he had definitely done this before!!!
My hips which had just minutes before been trying to drive my ass onto Manuel's cock were now trying to drive my cock into Paco's mouth and down his talented throat.
Unfortunately, I was too near the edge when it started ... and it was not much to go over the top... All I could do was screech .... "I'm gonna cum!!! I'm gonna cum!!! .... Awwwww, fuck.... Here it cums!!!" and I shot the biggest jizz in my life !!!! Between them, those two guys had pushed me up to the top of a cliff and then brazenly pushed me off !!! I couldn't believe it.
As I finally began to recover from the heights and the explosions ... I heard Manuel say, "Hey, Pete,... let's go to town for a beer and maybe do a little line dancin'." This time, I let him get by with the short-form, too, as I responded, "sure thing Manny."
Then I felt the hot, wet, juice of Paco's cock spurting onto my stomach.
"Muchas gracias," he grinned. "More later?" he queried.
"Oh, hell yes!!" I replied, "but right now I've got a date to go dancin'"
CNJShore9 always says "thanks for getting all the way to the bottom" ... and let me know what you think of my story ... and, of course, while you are at it ... a contribution to the Nifty Archives would be the best way to say you liked it. or just write and tell me at cnjshore9@aol.com and let me know. Do you think I should make this into a series, or just stop here (while, hopefully, I'm ahead) ??