When the blood began to flow into Merle’s heavy member, expanding it, Jacob worked the rubbery hose deeper toward his throat, his tongue fluttering hotly against the frenulum, his lips surrounding and stroking the middle of the shaft. As soon as Merle was fully hard—his glans now straining upward against the roof of Jacob’s mouth with a springy tension that would have snapped it back against his stomach had Jacob released it—his cocksucker began to bob up and down on him in the slow, steady way Jacob now knew he liked, working the head of the cock deeper into his throat with each new descent he made around the bloated shaft.
No big-city street whore, down on his knees in some dark alley, could’ve done a better job of serving his john’s dick.
“That’s enough,” Merle said at last, pushing him away, his hand on Jacob’s perspiring forehead. He caught his prick as it slid out from between Jacob’s reluctantly retreating lips, and he held it gingerly in his fist. He jerked himself a few times, as though to make sure that his saliva-coated cock was indeed fully hard and ready for action. Then, lying back, he gestured to Jacob with the crooked index finger of his other hand.
“Get up here and sit on it,” he told the naked farmhand. “Stick it up your ass. I want to watch you riding it, and I want to feel it going up and down inside your hole.” As he spoke, he brought his legs together beneath Jacob, and he reached for a condom from the supply he always kept beside his bed.
Jacob squatted over Merle’s groin, and then he leaned forward and reached back to center the head of Merle’s gloved and lubed cock against his sphincter. The bulbous knob felt very thick pressed between his parted buttocks. As he eased his ass down around the stretching girth of the fuck tool, Jacob once again felt that slightly masochistic thrill at being penetrated and used by another man. It was all that mattered to Jacob at that moment. He wanted to get fucked!
And Merle, of course, wanted to fuck him. Impatiently, he grasped Jacob’s thighs and bounced up beneath him, skewering the boy’s ass from below with the full length of his hard cock.
Jacob felt a surge of pain when Merle took him anally like that. But then the discomfort began to yield to that familiar tingling, burning, and melting sensation of being fucked, good and hard, as Jacob began to ride Merle, working the man’s phallus deeper into his ass, rocking on it, twisting it from side to side within him. Riding the solid pole of Merle’s masculinity, he forgot everything else except how good it felt.
Leaning forward to support himself with his palms against Merle’s shoulders, Jacob raised and lowered his buttocks; and all the while Merle’s thick cock scoured out his insides, generating a growing heat.
“Fuck me,” Jacob pleaded. “Oh, fuck me hard!”
“Yeah, you like it, don’t you, you hot-assed little bitch? You like it a lot, don’t you?”
“I love it.”
“Then keep going. Ride that dick of mine. Keep riding it and working it with that hot ass of yours, until I come. I want to shoot my load up your butt.”
Moaning shamelessly, Jacob slid up and down on Merle’s swollen rod, exulting in the way it spread open the interior of his anus. Every time the fat probe reached the point of deepest penetration, he flexed his anal muscles to squeeze it.
Merle was getting close to coming. He began humping up at Jacob to increase the force of the farmhand’s reckless downward plunges around his cock. Jacob writhed on top of him as he felt Merle begin to unload his cum into the condom, deep inside Jacob’s ass. Jacob grabbed his cock and began to masturbate, but he was so aroused that it took no more than a half dozen strokes of his fist to bring himself off. He sprayed his semen all over Merle’s face and chest. Merle took it without protest, grunting as he continued to ejaculate inside Jacob.
When they had both stopped shooting, Jacob cautiously pulled his butt free from the impalement of Merle’s still-stiff prong, and collapsed onto the bed beside him.
“I’d better go get a towel,” Merle said, gruffly. “Fuck! I’ve got your cum all over me.”
After he’d fetched the towel from his bathroom and wiped himself off, he stood there beside the bed, naked, looking down at Jacob. Merle said nothing, and after a moment, his intense stare began to make Jacob feel uncomfortable.
“What’s the matter?” Jacob asked, as he sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, getting ready to stand up.
“Nothing,” Merle said, gruffly.
“You’re looking at me kind of funny.”
“I’m allowed to look at you, ain’t I?” Merle sounded defensive. He reached out and brushed his hand through Jacob’s hair. For some reason, Jacob didn’t want the other man to touch him. It was illogical, after the physical intimacies the two of them had just shared. And he didn’t want to do anything to piss Merle off, so he sat there and submitted to the caress.
“Your hair does look nice this way,” Merle muttered. “You’re such a pretty boy … you’re so hot, so sexy. Listen. You don’t have to start peddling your ass to other guys, for money.”
“I haven’t done any such thing!” Jacob protested, hotly.
“No? Is that your story, and you’re sticking to it? Anyway, I’ll take care of you. If you want clothes, I’ll buy them for you. I’ll buy you anything you want.”
“Why should you?”
“Maybe I’d like to. You’re my boy, ain’t you?” Merle waited for a response, but got none. “Shit!” he exploded. “If you have to think about it … damn!”
A stubbornness had taken possession of Jacob. “Don’t be mad. There’s no reason for you to be pissed off at me. I did what you wanted. I always do, don’t it? But I don’t want to owe you anything—that’s all.”
Merle was obviously having trouble suppressing his anger. “All right, bitch, if that’s the way you want to play it—! You might as well put your fucking clothes on and get the hell out of here. You cunt. Ungrateful little cunt!”
“Ungrateful, huh? That’s a laugh. What’ve you ever done for me, that I should be grateful to you?”
“You’ve kept your job, for one thing.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been thinking about that, Mr. Greenley. For your information, I got this job all on my own, before you came to work here. And I intend to keep it. You try to come up with some excuse to fire me, or you do anything to hassle me, and I’ll—”
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll tell,” Jacob said, flatly. “I’ll complain to the owners. And don’t you tell me it’ll be just my word against yours. I’m not the only guy you’ve played around with.”
This last statement was no more than a shot in the dark on Jacob’s part; but he saw at once that he had scored a point. Merle was furious—but he also looked unsure of himself, and even a little scared. It was the first time Jacob had ever seen the man lose his poise.
“Who’ve you been talking to?” Merle demanded.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Merle took a step toward him, with his hands at his sides, but balled into fists. Jacob recoiled from him. Maybe he’d gone too far!
“I ought to beat the crap out of you—!” Merle hissed. Catching himself, he stopped. He stood there and glared at Jacob.
“I’d better go,” Jacob mumbled.
“Yeah, you’d better, boy, while the going’s still good. But don’t you worry—you’ll come crawling back to me, and sooner rather than later. You’ll beg for it! And then maybe I’ll give it to you—or maybe I won’t. Yeah, you’ll be down on your hands and knees, begging for my cock.”
“I promise you—I won’t beg.”
“Get out of here!”
“Yes, sir,” Jacob said, with a withering sarcasm.
He dressed quickly—so quickly, in fact, that he didn’t bother to take the time to put his socks and shoes on, or to pull on his new shirt. He shoved the socks into his pockets, and, carrying his shoes and shirt, he slipped out of Merle’s rooms and left the house stripped to the waist and barefoot. If anyone saw him leav
ing the main house, half dressed like that, it would look odd; but no one was around.
It was a relief to be out in the open air, under the tranquil night sky.
In the aftermath of his confrontation with Merle, Jacob felt an odd combination of anxiety and pride. He’d pushed the envelope, and had gotten his boss good and mad at him. He didn’t know just how much of a loose cannon Merle could be, and what the repercussions could be. On the other hand, Jacob had stood up for himself—belatedly, perhaps, but in no uncertain terms. It was about time he’d made some self-assertive gesture, letting Merle know he was no pushover. The fact that Merle was angry with him was almost encouraging. It meant that Merle was really just another bully, more bluster than action. The tough-acting and tough-talking Texan, far from being indifferent to Jacob, was vulnerable. Exercising some degree of control over another man was a novelty for Jacob. He decided that he liked the way it felt.
There was still the unresolved issue of his argument with Camilo. Jacob felt bad about that. If it wasn’t so late, if he didn’t think Camilo was surely asleep, he might have been tempted to knock on his friend’s door and apologize to him. But if he did, and Camilo accepted his apology, then they might end up in bed together. And Jacob didn’t feel capable of having sex again—not even with Camilo—after the debilitating workout he’d just had with Merle. Furthermore, Camilo’s crack about “sloppy seconds” still haunted Jacob, and rankled.
He sighed as he let himself into his own room. His life, up to now, had seemed fairly simple and straightforward. Suddenly, though, it was becoming complicated.
Chapter Four: A Ride Home
For the next week or so, Jacob found himself in the novel position of being without a sex partner.
Merle didn’t summon him to his rooms. He was perfectly polite, and even friendly, toward Jacob—who had to admit that his boss knew how to hide his feelings. If Merle was annoyed with Jacob, he didn’t show it; nor did he do anything to make life more difficult for his employee. Jacob was relieved. He’d defied Merle, and, so far, he’d gotten away with it. That was interesting. The question was, had it set a precedent?
Camilo, too, was civil toward Jacob—but a bit distant. Too proud and stubborn to make the first move toward a possible reconciliation, Jacob hoped that, eventually, Camilo would simply give in and solicit him for sex again.
He wants me, Jacob told himself, smugly. Oh, he’s trying to hide it, but he’s still got the hots for me. It’s like they always say—the bigger they are, the harder they fall. But I’m not going to give in too easily. I’m tired of being taking for granted. Make him work for it. All I have to do is be a little patient. Some night, Camilo will come knocking on my door—begging me to let him in, begging to make love to me. And when he does, I’ll give in to him, I suppose. I’ll let him have what he wants. But not right away. I’ll make sure the horny bastard knows I’m doing him a favor!
In the meantime, Jacob fell back upon masturbation. He now decided it was no substitute for being with another man.
By the time Saturday night rolled around, Jacob was restless.
He was really spending too much time on the farm. Working there was one thing. Devoting every minute of his free time to the place was quite another. At supper, most of the other men had announced their intention to go into town that evening. Why shouldn’t he?
Everybody else around here is enjoying himself—and probably getting laid, he told himself, cynically. Why shouldn’t I? I’m not exactly ugly, after all! I should be able to find some guy to hook up with. And I will. I’ll show that bastard Merle. I’ll show Mr. High and Mighty Camilo, too. I don’t need either of them.
He showered, and changed into clean clothes—taking care to put on some of the new things he’d bought at the shopping mall. These included a decent pair of snug-fitting designer jeans, which Jacob had decided to reserve for leisure wear, as opposed to getting them dusty and muddy on the job, like most of his other pants. He had a comfortable pair of training shoes to wear on his feet, a welcome change from the heavy work boots that farm work required. He even had new socks—soft wool, and a burnt orange color which Jacob thought was quite flamboyant. Finally, he pulled on a sweatshirt which he’d also bought at the mall. Brazenly bright yellow in color, it was made from some soft fabric that draped revealingly over his muscular torso, showing off his physique to its best advantage.
Standing in front of the wall mirror to comb his hair, Jacob had to admit that Jon had done a great job with it. Jacob looked good—he looked sexy, in fact. Warmed by a glow of innocent narcissism, he grabbed his truck keys and left his room.
There were two bars within the town limits. Jacob investigated the smaller of them first. It was located in a storefront downtown. The neon sign flickered, as though it was on the verge of burning out and needed repair—a tipoff that the establishment was none too upscale. The interior confirmed this impression. It was a dark, dingy dive, patronized by heavy drinkers. The patrons, either engaged in slurred, banal conversations with each other, or seated alone and staring blankly into space, seemed unaware of Jacob’s presence.
Jacob had one beer, which he guzzled quickly, before he left.
The second bar at least occupied a building all to itself, with the amenity of a parking lot. It turned out to be far from fancy, but it had a comfortable, inviting ambience. The crowd consisted of townspeople, along with men and women from the farms in the area. A good-looking and very friendly young bartender was on duty.
Jacob was surprised to see none of his coworkers in the place. Tonight, they must be patronizing one or more of the bars located on the highways outside of town.
Jacob switched to scotch. But, as he drank it, and surveyed the crowd, he realized that he had a problem. He really didn’t know how to go about cruising strangers for sex—especially in a place like this, where it was difficult to tell based on appearance and behavior who might or might not be gay.
The customers were friendly, as bar goers in a small town tend to be, and Jacob struck up a few conversations. But they remained on a casual, impersonal level. Jacob tried to think of some way to inject sexual innuendo or suggestiveness into the small talk—without, preferably, running the risk of being punched in the mouth by some homophobe.
If only I were more self-confident, bolder, he thought. Like Camilo—or like Merle and Hank, for that matter. I bet they’d know what to do, what to say.
Instead, he continued to exchange pleasantries with some of the men. And he drank, to conceal his nervousness.
“Hadn’t you better go easy on that stuff?” the bartender asked, when Jacob ordered his third neat scotch from him. “You know, pace yourself?”
“I can hold my liquor,” Jacob bragged.
“I’m sure you can. How about a bottle of water, or a soft drink, on the house?”
“No, thanks. I want another whiskey.”
The amiable bartender shrugged. “Coming right up.” He poured out the drink, and, when Jacob paid him, he said, “Thanks.” Then he added, casually, “Hey, while you’re at it—let me see your car keys.”
“Why?”
“Just show them to me.”
Jacob handed them over. The bartender tossed them into a glass bowl, set on the shelf behind him, amidst the liquor bottles.
“There,” the bartender said. “You don’t get them back until you sober up.”
“Hey!” Jacob protested. “How am I supposed to get home?”
“Don’t worry about it,” the bartender assured him, in a soothing tone of voice. “We’ll get you home, one way or another.”
Jacob picked up his drink and sipped it. The booze, he had to admit, had started to get to him. He was aware of that warm, numb, tingling sensation coursing slowly through his body, relaxing him and seeming to weigh his limbs down a bit. It was a feeling he associated with being good and buzzed, before he had sex. Only tonight, unfortunately, sex seemed like an increasingly unlikely prospect.
He stared, glassy-eyed, at
the glass bowl on the shelf, as though it contained the clue to some puzzle.
“Give me back my keys,” he demanded.
The bartender was unperturbed. “Sorry. No way.”
“Give them back,” Jacob said, a little more belligerently, “or I’ll have to take them from you.”
The other young man responded to this threat with an infuriating grin.
“I’d like to see you try,” he said.
“I thought you were my friend,” Jacob complained.
“I am. I’m the friend who’s going to make sure you don’t end up getting a DWI tonight—or worse.”
Jacob, experiencing a sudden mood swing, turned sullen.
“You’re no friend of mine,” he grumbled.
The other patrons in the vicinity had paid little or no attention to the exchange. Jacob hadn’t yet become aggressive enough to promise that he’d be entertaining.
The front door opened. Jacob turned his head toward it, and was surprised to see none other than Duane Mallory stride in. The police officer was in full uniform, obviously on the job.
“Perfect timing, Duane,” the bartender greeted him.
“What’s up?” the police officer asked, as he seemed to take in the entire interior of the bar with one quick, sweeping look.
The bartender nodded toward Jacob. “Got us a live one, here.”
Duane inspected Jacob. “Any trouble?”
“Not yet.”
“Good.”
“I’m not a troublemaker!” Jacob interjected.
“I’m sure you’re not,” Duane said.
“Our friend needs a lift home,” the bartender said. “Know where he lives?”
“Oh, yeah,” Duane replied. “No problem.”
Jacob drew himself up to his full height, and tried his best to assume a haughty attitude. “Officer Mallory, I have a complaint to make. This man took my car keys.”
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