Midnight Farmhand

by Roland Graeme

  Midnight Farmhand

  by

  Roland Graeme

  Copyright © 2014 Roland Graeme

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Cover design: Aos Si Designs

  www.aossipublishing.com/designs/

  Table of Contents

  Author’s Note

  Chapter One: The Bleeding Tongue

  Chapter Two: Job Security

  Chapter Three: Clothes Make the Man

  Chapter Four: A Ride Home

  Chapter Five: The Englishman

  Chapter Six: The Strong Arm of the Law

  Chapter Seven: Private Workouts

  Chapter Eight: Kissing the Cat

  Chapter Nine: The Ties That Bind

  Chapter Ten: When a Cop Comes Knocking

  Also by Roland Graeme

  Author’s Note

  We city dwellers are occasionally guilty of feeling sorry for our gay brothers who live in small towns and rural communities. Surely, the sexual options there are limited?

  Well, maybe not.

  Jacob, the protagonist of this pastoral tale, is a young man who comes from a conservative family background. Having lived in small towns and farm country all his life, he has never been exposed to the temptations of urban life.

  But, when Jacob strikes out on his own in search of work, he discovers that the deceptively peaceful countryside contains its share of temptations. After being hired on at a large and prosperous farm, Jacob finds a mentor and friend in Camilo, an older Mexican-American farmhand. Camilo shows Jacob the ropes, in more ways than one. The two men’s secret and somewhat idyllic relationship is threatened when Jacob attracts the unwelcome attention of Merle, the farm’s new manager.

  “I don’t want to hear the words ‘sexual harassment’ coming out of your mouth,” Merle warns Jacob, as he puts pressure upon the naïve young farmhand to have sex with him. Jacob gives in—and he regrets it, when Merle begins to make callous, selfish demands upon him. Worse, Camilo is reluctant to share Jacob with their unscrupulous boss.

  Jacob’s situation becomes even more complicated when he meets a hot young local cop, and a muscle-bound gym owner. Working hard during the day, and playing even harder at night, the virile young farmhand soon finds several aggressive men vying for his sexual favors. What’s a farm boy to do?

  Chapter One: The Bleeding Tongue

  Stripped to the waist, Jacob Stoltzfus steered the tractor on which he was seated away from the field he’d just plowed. He headed toward the storage shed in which the larger pieces of farm equipment were stored when they weren’t being used.

  Even this early in spring, the afternoon sun could get hot here in Pennsylvania. Jacob’s face and bare torso were flushed, and bedewed with sweat.

  He was a tall, sturdy youth, with a farm boy’s hard muscles and calloused hands. After driving the tractor into the shed and shutting it off, he climbed down from it and retrieved his shirt from where he’d slung it, behind the seat. But he didn’t bother to put the shirt on. He’d have to wash up before supper, anyway. And now, leaning against the tractor’s muddy fender for a moment to catch his breath, he could feel his limbs slumping a bit, in fatigue. He’d been up since well before dawn, as usual, and he’d put in a long, busy day. He was looking forward to the evening meal. With the resilience of youth, he ordinarily recovered his energy after eating; and then he’d have a few hours of leisure time, before he went to bed.

  Rousing himself from his momentary lethargy, Jacob strode across the broad expanse of grassy ground that separated the shed from the other buildings, with his shirt dangling from his hand. He saw one of the other farmhands, Camilo Bautista, standing on the porch of the employees’ living quarters. Raising his free hand, Jacob waved to Camilo, who smiled at him and waved back.

  Although he was old enough to be Jacob’s father, Camilo certainly didn’t show his age. He stood out in this rural Pennsylvania community because he was originally from Mexico, and looked it. He probably had both Spanish and Native American blood in him, but the Native American strain predominated. Camilo was short, wiry, and tautly muscled, with an enviably flat belly and no trace of excess body fat anywhere on him. He had a handsome, unlined face, high-cheekboned and full-lipped. His skin was a clear warm brown, the color of caramel. He wore his black hair short, and he sported a neatly trimmed little mustache and goatee. He was an attractive, sexy man.

  Despite the almost twenty-year difference in their ages, Camilo and Jacob were good friends—and rather more than that. The older farmhand had taken Jacob in hand from the first day Jacob had reported to work on the farm, making him feel welcome and showing him the ropes.

  Camilo’s personality was calm to the point of being phlegmatic. He did his work methodically, and he was not easily excited. Jacob had discovered that the Mexican’s bland exterior was deceptive, though. Camilo was an intelligent, well-read man, with a mischievous sense of humor. He was the kind of man who, because he didn’t like to talk about himself or volunteer information about his personal life, had acquired the reputation of being “a good listener.” In the course of their conversations, Jacob had told Camilo his entire life story to date, such as it was. But about all that Jacob had learned about Camilo’s past was that he was divorced, and that his ex-wife, who had custody of their children, had remarried, and now lived in another state.

  “Hot day, isn’t it?” Camilo said, when Jacob joined him on the porch.

  “I’ll say. I’m sweating like a pig. But at least I got that plowing done.”

  Camilo’s black eyes flicked appreciatively over Jacob’s bare torso. “You’d better watch yourself,” he cautioned. “It’s kind of early in the season for you to start getting sunburned.”

  “I’ll slap on some sunscreen tomorrow, if this weather keeps up. Man, I’m tired,” Jacob admitted. “I can’t wait until supper. I worked up an appetite.”

  “Me, too. And after supper? You got any plans?”

  Jacob shrugged. “Nothing in particular. The usual, I guess. Read a little, see if there’s anything on TV … and then go to bed.”

  Camilo glanced about to make sure that no one else was within earshot. Then he stepped closer to Jacob and smiled at him.

  “You’re ready to go to bed, huh? Alone?” he asked, softly. He put his hand on Jacob’s bare shoulder, and slid it down over his chest.

  “Careful,” Jacob said, backing away from the other man just enough to break the contact between Camilo’s warm, calloused palm and his own sweaty pectoral mound. He liked it when Camilo touched him; and under different circumstances, he would have done nothing to discourage him. But there was a difference between fooling around together in private, and taking unnecessary risks outdoors.

  Like a lot of young men who’d grown up in small, rural communities, Jacob wasn’t particularly forthcoming about his sexuality. He was neither in the closet, nor fully “out.” He wasn’t ashamed of being gay. But experience had taught him that being labeled gay could still be a disadvantage, in certain circumstances. In addition, he placed a high value on privacy—his own, and other people’s. An innate fastidiousness made him reluctant to share the details of his sex life with just anybody. Things might be different if he lived in a large city. But he’d spent his whole life, so far, in small towns in the countryside, and among people who weren’t always renowned for their open-mindedness.

&
nbsp; Camilo smiled. “Still a little embarrassed, are you? Ashamed to be seen with me? Is that it?”

  “Don’t be mad at me, Camilo,” Jacob pleaded. “I’ll do anything you want, behind closed doors. You know I will. But I don’t want everybody else to know my business.”

  “I understand. Whatever you say, kid.”

  Not for the first time, Jacob wished he possessed Camilo’s self-confidence. Jacob was annoyed with himself, for being so paranoid about showing his true feelings in public. At the moment, no one else was around, to observe or overhear them. But Jacob still felt reticent. As usual, he waited for Camilo to make the next move.

  Luckily for him, Camilo didn’t make him wait long. He was a man of action, and arranging a rendezvous was easy for him.

  “I know you’re tired,” he said. “But are you horny, too?”

  “Yeah.” As he muttered the monosyllable, Jacob hoped he wasn’t blushing, which he knew he still had a tendency to do whenever sexual matters were being discussed.

  “Can I come to your room, later on?”

  “Sure. When?”

  “Give me an hour or so, after supper.”

  “Okay. Don’t make me wait too long.”

  Camilo grinned. “Don’t worry. I won’t. I’m damn horny, too.”

  “I’ll see you later, then.”

  They parted, with Jacob already aware of an anticipatory stirring in his loins.

  He was enormously grateful to Camilo, for being so forthright. He wished he could develop some of Camilo’s aggressiveness, at least when it came to sexual matters. Still, considering the conservative, even repressed, background that Jacob had come from, he had made some progress since he’d left home and struck out on his own in search of work.

  He liked this job. It was a large farm, comprising nearly seven thousand acres. Not all of this land was planted with crops at any one time. The crops were rotated, so some of the fields lay fallow. The business made a good profit, and the owners were good about putting some of this money into maintaining the property. Everything was kept neat, and in good repair. A long driveway led from the main road to the farm’s main house, which was a picturesque clapboard structure dating from the early 1900s. Since then, though, the house had been extended by the addition of two matching wings. The other buildings—such as the barn, and various storage sheds—were spread out enough that they were connected by additional narrow paved roads.

  Among these structures was the farmhands’ quarters. It was a long one-story building, built in the 1920s, when the farm had expanded and more workers were needed. The building resembled an old-fashioned motel, complete with a parking lot in front of it for the men’s vehicles. A roofed porch ran along the full length of the front. Each room had a door and a window opening onto the porch, and another window in its rear wall.

  The rooms themselves were small, but reasonably comfortable, resembling studio or efficiency apartments. The interiors had been renovated over the years. Each room had its own bathroom, with a shower, and each was equipped with a television set with a cable hookup, a mini refrigerator, and a microwave oven. The appliances were provided so the men could make their own snacks. They took their regular meals, three times a day, in the big dining room of the main house. No one would call the living arrangements luxurious, but Jacob liked having a space he could call his own.

  He and Camilo invariably met for sex in Jacob’s room, rather than Camilo’s—not because Camilo was in any way inhospitable, but because Jacob’s room was not only located at one end of the building; it happened to be at the end which faced away from the main house. This minimized the chance that anybody would see his visitors coming or going. Of course, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if one of the other men did notice Camilo standing on Jacob’s doorstep. The workers could, and did, get together in their free time just to talk, or to kill time playing cards or doing other innocent activities together. But Jacob, who had recently developed a definite preference for not-so-innocent activities, didn’t care to be the object of farmyard speculation and gossip. He adhered firmly to the philosophy that what his fellow employees didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them—or embarrass him.

  In his room, Jacob quickly washed his face and hands, wiped his perspiring torso dry with a towel, and put on his shirt. Then he headed for the main house, to join the others for supper.

  This job might have few perks, but good food, and plenty of it, was among them. There was never much conversation during the early part of a meal, as the men concentrated on taking the edge off their appetites. Once they’d done that, they tended to slow their pace and enjoy their food, and it was then that the table talk picked up, between bites and swallows, and the passing of platters. The day’s events were rehashed, followed by a discussion of what was going on in the outside world.

  Listening to the conversations going on around him, Jacob made frequent eye contact with Camilo, who sat opposite him. He liked the way Camilo’s facial expression didn’t change much, betraying nothing of what he might be thinking; the Mexican’s eyes were eloquent enough, though, as they returned Jacob’s gaze. The two of them were conspirators. They shared a secret—a dirty, sexual secret. The thought of his own depravity got Jacob excited. He was impatient to satisfy his lust once again with the other man.

  But patience, he knew, was in order. Because soon—in an hour or so, as Camilo had promised him—they’d be naked in bed together, aroused, making love. Jacob could feel his cock hardening inside his jeans at the thought, and he was glad he had his napkin discreetly draped across his lap. He couldn’t wait to free his erection from its confinement and stroke it in his hand, offering it to Camilo’s mouth—!

  Suck it for me, Camilo! he’d beg—and, so far, he’d never made such a request of Camilo in vain. Suck my cock! Get that hot mouth of yours down on it. Swallow it, all of it. Put it right down your throat—!

  “Hey, Jacob! What’s the matter with you, boy—you daydreaming?”

  Startled, Jacob realized that the farm’s new manager, Merle Greenley, had spoken to him.

  “Did you say something to me, sir?” Jacob asked.

  “I wasn’t talking to myself, to have the pleasure of hearing my own damn fool voice,” Greenley retorted, as some of the other men seated at the table responded with snickers. “Jesus, boy! You looked like you were a million miles away. Wake up, will you? You’d better have some more coffee.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Aw, forget about it. Anyhow, I asked you if you finished that plowing.”

  “I sure did, Mr. Greenley. We can start planting first thing in the morning.”

  “Yeah? Good for you.” Greenley tended to be grudging with his praise; coming from him, good for you was a high compliment. “I’ll have to find something else to keep you busy, then, tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, sir. Whatever you need done, I’ll do.”

  Although he seemed to be in an amiable mood this evening, the manager couldn’t resist making a final twist of the knife. “You’d better get a good night’s sleep tonight, Jacob,” he suggested. “Otherwise, at the rate you’re going, you may end up sleepwalking your way through your chores, tomorrow.”

  “No danger of that, Mr. Greenley,” Jacob said, coolly. “I intend to hit the sack early—and hit it hard.” He glanced across the table at Camilo as he spoke, and he was pleased to see his friend’s lips twitch, as though Camilo was struggling to suppress a smirk.

  After coffee and dessert, Jacob could feel himself getting increasingly excited as he left the house and headed back toward his room. It wouldn’t be long, now, before he would have some company. Some naked company, in his bed!

  He and Camilo were going to fuck! The sex was always good between the two of them; but now that the prospect of a dalliance had been put into his head, Jacob was beginning to realize that he was in an especially randy mood this evening.

  I’m going to drain that Mexican stud dry, he promised himself. And if I’ve got anything to say abou
t it, I’m going to drop more than one load, myself, before I’m done with him!

  In preparation for Camilo’s visit, Jacob got his room ready for sex. He turned down the bed, set out a box of condoms, a tube of lubricant, and a freshly laundered trick towel on the nightstand, and he turned the lamp on the little painted wooden nightstand beside the bed down low to create a suitably intimate, seductive mood. Next, he made sure the venetian blinds and drapes were closed all the way, so no one could look in through the windows.

  He surveyed his handiwork. Maybe he wasn’t a city slicker with a high-paying job and a fancy apartment in which to entertain guests. But he had everything that he and Camilo would need. And when it came down to it, all that two horny men really needed to enjoy themselves was each other’s bodies—and a sturdy mattress on which to fuck!

  Then Jacob got himself ready for sex, as well. He stripped and stood under a hot shower for quite some time, allowing the hot water and the steam to relax him, and giving himself a good scrub from head to foot. He paid extra attention to his genitals and his butt, since he was confident that Camilo wasn’t going to neglect those areas of his body. His fuck buddy loved to suck his cock and eat his ass, and Jacob wasn’t shy about giving him what he wanted. Not any longer, at least.

  The first time Camilo had told Jacob to sit on his face so that Camilo could eat his ass, the young farmhand had thought he would die of embarrassment. He knew that gay men sucked each other’s cocks, and fucked each other up the ass. But the whole idea of rimming seemed so outrageous that Jacob couldn’t imagine anybody in his right mind doing it, let alone enjoying it.