Midnight Farmhand

by Roland Graeme

  But Camilo’s agile and seemingly indefatigable tongue had altered Jacob’s perceptions, quickly and decisively. It didn’t take him long before, suitably fortified with liquor, he’d gotten a good taste of Camilo’s ass, too. After that first time, ass play of various types became a regular part of the two men’s lovemaking.

  Stepping out of the shower, Jacob dried himself off, rubbing his long, straight black hair with a towel to get the excess moisture out of it. Then he slipped on a pair of well-worn, comfortable gray sweatpants. Predictably, he’d sprung a boner in the shower, while thinking about ass licking. His penis now refused to go down; so, instead of tucking it down inside one legs of the sweatpants, as he ordinarily would have done, he had to endure the slight, nagging discomfort of having his erection push out against the crotch of the pants. Jacob smiled. Camilo was going to have his work cut out for him, tonight.

  Since leaving home, Jacob had acquired a taste for certain creature comforts, notably alcoholic beverages. Buying liquor (and prophylactics) still seemed to him to be sinful, and daring. He wasn’t a heavy drinker, by any means, unlike one or two of the other farmhands whom he could name. But a snort in the evening always helped him to relax, and could do him no harm. He’d also discovered that a mild buzz, far from interfering with his sexual performance, actually enhanced it, at least to the extent that it numbed his few remaining inhibitions.

  He mixed himself his drink of choice—scotch with a little tap water, no ice—and then, comfortably barefoot and bare-chested, he sat down in the single armchair in his room to await his guest. His thoughts wandered, replaying events in the recent past.

  Were he and Camilo lovers? Well, no—not in the sense that they were in any kind of a committed, monogamous relationship. Jacob supposed that the most accurate way to describe his relationship with Camilo would be to say that they were fuck buddies. Their first night together had been more than satisfactory, as far as Jacob was concerned. It had in fact been somewhat of a revelation for him. It had opened his eyes to the myriad possibilities of man-to-man sex. There could more to it than the concentration upon quick and purely physical release which had characterized Jacob’s previous experiences.

  These had been mostly limited to furtive, clumsy fumblings with boys his own age. These experiments had been undeniably exciting—especially the violently spurting ejaculations with which they always ended—but they’d been frustrating, as well, because Jacob had sensed that there was something incomplete about them. There had to be more to sex between men than just getting your rocks off, as quickly and efficiently as possible, and then pulling your pants back up and going your separate ways, pretending that nothing had happened. And now Jacob knew that he’d been right about that. There was a lot more to it—and he wanted to experience it all!

  He remembered the first time any hint of mutual sexual interest had passed between him and Camilo. Jacob had been living and working on the farm for less than two weeks, and he was still feeling his way, taking care to display a good work ethic and otherwise make a favorable impression. In his free time, he’d kept to himself. Past work experiences had taught him the value of maintaining a low profile.

  The other men were friendly enough, but it was only Camilo with whom he’d been interested in pursuing a closer acquaintance. Jacob had been attracted to Camilo from the start. Jacob was self-aware enough to realize that he might be looking for a father figure, an older male to mentor him—someone he could look up to, and model himself after. Camilo certainly qualified. But physical attraction also had a lot to do with it. Every time he looked at Camilo, or thought about him, Jacob felt a heat start to smolder away in his loins.

  Until he got to know somebody, Camilo tended to be a man of few words.

  That first time, when he’d asked Jacob about his sex life, his interrogation was typically telegraphic in its succinctness:

  “Hey, Jacob. Tell me something. You got a girlfriend?”

  “No. I haven’t been here long enough to meet too many people.”

  “I meant, waiting for you, back home.”

  “No. No girlfriend there, either.”

  “You got a boyfriend?”

  “No.” Startled by the question, Jacob could feel his face reddening with embarrassment.

  “What do you have? This?” Camilo held up his right hand.

  “That’s about the size of it.” Jacob did his best to try to match the other guy’s insouciance.

  “Do you ever get tired of jerking off?”

  “Not tired, exactly. Bored, is more like it. A little variety would be nice, every now and then.”

  “You like to have your dick sucked?”

  “Who doesn’t?” Jacob replied, with a bravado which he was in fact far from feeling.

  “What else do you like to do?”

  Nervously, Jacob shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m open to suggestions.”

  “Maybe some night I’ll come to your room, and make sure you don’t get bored.”

  Still somewhat flustered by the explicit turn their conversation had taken, Jacob was noncommittal. “Maybe you will.”

  “And suppose I do? If I knock on your door, will you let me in?”

  “Depends on what mood I’ll be in. You’re going to have to take a chance. You might get lucky, and not have to break the door down.”

  Camilo grinned at the younger man, knowingly and insolently. He was enough of a man of the world to recognize the insecurity lurking behind Jacob’s attempt at light-hearted banter.

  “Yeah? Somehow, I do feel lucky—when it comes to you, pretty boy,” he said, in a soft, insinuating tone of voice that Jacob found strangely seductive. “Maybe, when I come knocking, that door won’t be locked.”

  Nor was it. That very night, Jacob was getting ready for bed when he heard a light rap on his door. He opened it to find Camilo standing there on the porch.

  “Want some company?” Camilo whispered.

  “Sure. Come in.”

  Jacob let Camilo into his room—and, within a very few minutes, into his bed.

  They’d fucked like animals, going at each other in a storm of passion. Jacob had never experienced anything like it. He’d felt wild, unashamed—eager to learn everything that the older man had to teach him.

  Jacob and Camilo been getting together for sex two or three nights a week ever since. It was convenience sex, saving both of them the trouble of going out cruising. In this small town, a gay man’s options were limited. The nearest gay bar was located in a larger town, more than an hour’s drive away. Some men, Jacob knew, searched the Internet for potential sex partners; but he was still new enough to that technology to feel uncomfortable using it for that purpose.

  But Jacob did like Camilo, even though he had to admit he still didn’t know all that much about him, other than what he’d discovered about his physical prowess during their times together in bed. For now, that carnal knowledge was enough.

  Jacob glanced at the alarm clock next to his bed. Barely an hour had elapsed. He was beginning to feel impatient, and also increasingly aroused, in that way he always experienced when he was tempted to masturbate. It was an erotic agitation and readiness, a hyperawareness of his body and his needs; his attention seemed to be focused on his crotch. His cock was still semi-hard inside his sweatpants, and his balls were swollen, drawn up tight against the base of his stiffening penis within their sac.

  Come on, Camilo, he thought, heatedly. What’s keeping you? What’re you waiting for? Get here, will you?

  He poured himself another drink, and sipped it slowly, to pass the time. The strong liquor went down easily, and it helped to restore his mellow mood. Outside, the sun had set, and the deep bluish-gray of twilight was beginning to darken to night. Here on the farm, where the rhythm of life tended to be from sunrise to sunset, it was time for sleep. But not yet, Jacob promised himself. Not until I’ve come, at least once! Oh, fuck—I’m really hard up. I really need to shoot my load!

  When Camilo tapped o
n the door, Jacob almost jumped out of the chair in his eagerness to let him in. He admitted the other farmhand, and then he closed the door and locked it, before greeting Camilo with a hug and a kiss.

  Camilo was a good kisser, in the way some extremely masculine gay men could be; and Jacob relaxed against him, with Jacob’s half-naked body pressing against Camilo’s fully clothed one. Camilo’s hands slid down Jacob’s bare back to cup his buttocks through the seat of his sweatpants, and the Mexican pulled Jacob’s crotch brusquely against his, as their lips remained in contact and the sweetness of Camilo’s tongue invaded Jacob’s mouth. Camilo was the kind of a gentleman who prepared for a date by utilizing a breath mint.

  Camilo smiled at Jacob after they finally broke the kiss. “Fuck! I’ve sure been missing that, all day long.”

  “Me, too.”

  “How long as it been since the last time we got together and played around?”

  “Not so long. A couple of days.”

  “Yeah? Well, it sure seems like longer than that. I’m so horny, I could swear I haven’t had sex for a week.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll make up for lost time tonight. Want a drink?” Jacob asked.

  “Please. Looks like I have some catching up to do. You started without me, I see.”

  “I only had one. Okay, maybe two. You want your usual?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  Jacob knew that Camilo preferred beer, so he took care to keep his little refrigerator stocked with the brand that Camilo liked. Camilo drank straight from the bottle, while Jacob sipped from his glass.

  The two men made small talk while they sat and drank. It was the camaraderie of sex partners, casual and relaxed. But underlying the deceptive calm surface of their interaction was a mutual anticipation. They were both well aware of what was to come, and to come shortly. They’d committed themselves to giving each other pleasure, and satisfaction. It was a pact which both men intended to fulfill—to the letter!

  In the meanwhile, Jacob admired his fuck buddy—and not for the first time.

  Camilo’s maturity was part of the appeal he had for Jacob. Camilo was a man, not a gangling boy. His best features were those eyes of his, which usually had an ironic, mischievous gleam in them; and his mouth, which was full, sensuous, and very red—the kind of mouth which Jacob could easily imagine himself kissing; or, better yet, could picture stretched wide open around the shaft of his big, hard cock, sucking away on it with blissful, mindless concentration. Not that Jacob had to rely entirely upon his imagination. He had his memories, including some quite recent ones, to draw upon, as well.

  He didn’t think anyone, meeting Camilo for the first time, would have found him handsome in a male model or Hollywood leading man sort of way. But he was good-looking, and he was also undeniably sexy, which was something quite different. A man could have a confident way of carrying himself, a glint in his eye, an engaging turn to his smile, that told another man he was at ease with his own body, with his sexuality—and, also, that he was at ease with other men’s bodies, and that he knew exactly what to do with them. For Jacob, that was a lot more important than bland stereotypical prettiness.

  As usual, it didn’t take long for the two men to run out of conversation.

  “It’s still warm outside, isn’t it, even though the sun’s gone down?” Jacob asked. “It feels kind of warm in here, too.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Maybe you’d be more comfortable if you didn’t have all those clothes on,” Jacob suggested, with a brazenness which would have been unthinkable in him only a few weeks previously.

  Camilo grinned. “You want me to get naked?”

  “I like you better that way,” Jacob admitted.

  “Okay,” Camilo agreed, with a readiness that betrayed his own eagerness. “But you’re going to have to strip, too.”

  “Deal.”

  Jacob was quick to fulfill his side of the bargain. He shed his sweatpants and stretched out naked on the bed. Camilo, still seated in the armchair, leaned forward, unlacing his work boots and tugging them off, and then peeling off his socks. For a man of his compact size, he had big hands and feet, which proved the validity of that hoary old saying to the effect that men who possessed such attributes had big penises, as well. Standing up again, he stripped off his T-shirt, and then he opened his jeans and stepped out of them. In getting ready for their tryst, he’d dispensed with underwear. Naked, his uncircumcised cock already swaying out in front of him in semi-erection, he joined Jacob on the bed.

  “Fuck,” Camilo exclaimed, under his breath. “This is what I’ve been looking for, all day. This is what I’ve been wanting, needing—!”

  “Me, too,” Jacob moaned. “Oh—me, too!”

  They lay there, playing with each other’s dicks. Jacob was uncut, too, and one of their preferred methods of foreplay was to grasp each other’s penises and work the foreskins back and forth, alternately exposing and covering the heads. As they did so, Jacob admired Camilo’s tattoos, in the pool of warm yellow light cast by the bedside lamp.

  The first time he’d seen Camilo shirtless—let alone naked, which came later—Jacob had been almost shocked by the sight of the bold inked designs on his body. Jacob’s people were among those who interpreted a certain biblical verse, in Leviticus, about marking the body, as a prohibition against tattooing.

  Camilo had elaborate colorful tattoos on his chest, back, and arms, all of them inspired by Aztec sculptures. Some were abstract geometrical, decorative patterns. Others depicted animals and gods. The most startling and eye-catching of the tattoos, so far as Jacob was concerned, was emblazoned upon Camilo’s left shoulder and upper arm. It showed an Aztec nobleman in a feathered headdress and elaborate jewelry, kneeling. He had his mouth open and his tongue extended, and through his tongue he was running a long cord with thorns tied to it at regular intervals. The thorns drew blood from his tongue, which flew about and dripped down in bright red stylized drops. This was a bloodletting ritual, Camilo had explained to Jacob, in which the kneeling worshipper offered his pain and his blood to the gods, as a sacrifice.

  The pagan brutality of it had shocked Jacob. But it had excited him, as well.

  And, the first time Camilo had dropped his pants in front of him, Jacob had been equally stunned by the discovery that the tattoos extended to the other guy’s legs and his butt. Camilo had a snarling puma-like creature inked on his upper thigh. With extended paws, it seemed to be using its claws to dig into his brown flesh as it crawled up his leg—and onto his ass cheek, into which it was sinking its teeth. On his other leg, Camilo had a snake, coiled around his calf muscle from his ankle to his knee, with protruding fangs.

  Being in bed with Camilo was thus a bit like visiting a human art gallery.

  Still toying with Camilo’s turgid cock, Jacob kissed him on the mouth. Then Jacob touched his lips to Camilo’s bare shoulder, nuzzling the kneeling nobleman with the bleeding tongue. He loved kissing Camilo there!

  “That’s right, baby,” Camilo murmured, running his fingers through Jacob’s disheveled hair. He exerted a gentle pressure, keeping Jacob’s mouth in contact with his skin. “Kiss that ink. Lick it. Make your Daddy feel good.” He groaned with pleasure as Jacob licked his way down over his chest, until the young farmhand’s tongue prodded wetly at his big brown nipple. “Go ahead,” he urged Jacob. “Suck on my tit.”

  Seizing the nipple between his lips, Jacob teased its point with the tip of his tongue, and then he bit gingerly into the surrounding flesh. Camilo’s hard pectoral muscle barely yielded to the pressure from the edges of his teeth. Jacob felt Camilo’s erection throb within his fist, in response to the stimulation Jacob was giving his nipple.

  “Harder,” Camilo pleaded. “Bite it harder, boy!”

  Jacob did what he was told. Like a wild animal seizing its prey in its mouth, he sucked and gnawed on each of Camilo’s stiffly swollen nipples in turn.

  “Fucker! Oh, you little fucker, you! Wait … stop. Now i
t’s my turn,” Camilo whispered, gently pushing Jacob’s head away from his chest. “My turn to use my mouth on you. Lie back. Lie back and let me do you, boy. I want to suck your cock!”

  Both of the farmhands enjoyed few sex acts as much as sucking cock. And so, this evening, taking turns going down on each other, inevitably followed by a bout of sixty-nining, was once again among the main items on their erotic agenda.

  Camilo lifted Jacob’s cock with one hand and stretched his other arm over the other man’s abdomen to caress Jacob’s chest, his fingers occasionally pinching at one nipple or the other. Jacob felt the heat of Camilo’s breath stirring through the thicket of his pubic hair. Then Camilo touched the tip of his cock with his parted lips. He ran the tormenting wetness of his tongue all around the taut-skinned head of Jacob’s cock. Jacob’s shaft pulsed in his hand, the thick blue vein running along its side bulging as it pumped the blood hotly through his engorged erectile tissues. Parting his lips wider, Camilo kissed the dome of Jacob’s glans, and then he slowly sank his mouth down around the erection until his nose brushed the pubic hair.

  “That’s right,” Jacob cried. “Blow me! Swallow it all! Oh, God! That feels so good!”

  Jacob’s big, work-hardened hands closed into fists at his sides as he tried to restrain himself—not without an effort—from humping into Camilo’s throat and choking him. Keeping Jacob in an exquisite agony of sexual suspense, Camilo stayed down there, his throat milking the shaft of the cock, the wet slipperiness of his tongue lashing back and forth along the underside of the hard-on. He demonstrated his oral skill until it was all Jacob could do to keep from pushing his hips up to shove himself even deeper into that tantalizing throat.

  But just then, when Jacob thought he could endure no more, his fellow farmhand bobbed his head back up again, his tongue swirling around the curved underside of Jacob’s cockhead as he backed away. Jacob could hear him gasp quickly for air, and then Camilo’s tongue flicked out over his lips to rewet them. Next, he twisted his head to one side and ran his mouth down the full length of Jacob’s erection, past his balls, and along his perineum, almost to his anus. Camilo’s tongue probed eagerly into the sensitive crevice between Jacob’s testicles and the juncture of his thigh. Jacob’s abdomen jerked as he sucked in his breath, and his thighs quivered. Camilo continued to root around there, grunting, and rather resembling one of the farm’s hogs going after its mash. Jacob was being driven to the verge of insanity by what the other man was doing to him—by his need to have that mouth surrounding his penis again.