The Long Hot Summer - Field of Dreams

DISCLAIMER

The Long Hot Summer – Field of Dreams is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also note that my works generally contain sexual themes, objectionable language and behavior that most people should avoid. If you are easily offended, unable to discern the difference between fiction and reality, dislike the use of profanity, are uptight, or afraid that reading this material may pose danger to your sanity, then you should immediately cease reading any further.

The author accepts no responsibility for any thoughts you may form after reading his works.

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THE LONG HOT SUMMER – Field of Dreams

Chapter 1

Sitting at the breakfast table that next morning eating, I was going over the events of the previous night in my mind, and I couldn’t believe what had happened. Initially, it felt somehow wrong and, after the fact, I felt very guilty about it, while I lay awake thinking in the early morning hours. But, as I went over and over everything that had transpired, I found I was less inclined to beat myself up over my feelings, and the shame and guilt subsided, replaced by excitement.

The first night staying with my cousin Ronnie at the ranch had been quite an experience, to say the least. It was a night of “firsts” for me, you might say. Let’s see, I had a guy dry hump my ass crack until he came all over me. I sucked my first cock, and swallowed huge amounts of cum, twice! I was face fucked, twice! One of those consisted of my cousin ramming the entire length of his cock completely down my throat, up to his balls. Oh! There is that thing about ass fucking him with my fist until he had a massive orgasm! All in all, I would say it was an interesting and eventful night in my early manhood.

By the way, I’m David; a very shy, very intelligent, awkward teenager, that’s still developing physically; Mom referred to me during this time as a, “late bloomer”. Oh God, I hated it when she’d say that. I had, up until now, little to no sexual experience and/or self-confidence with sexual sorts of things. My cousin Ronnie is six years older than I am and is working his last summer on their family ranch after graduating from engineering school. He has also taken me on as a “project” in order to introduce me to the mysteries of sex, among other things.

The previous night was quite thrilling and enlightening, and I must say that I had thoroughly enjoyed myself with him. To my amazement, as horny and worked-up as I was last night, when my cousin came for the third time, of which I was the sole recipient, I was so exhausted I just collapsed without coming. He said he felt guilty that he had enjoyed himself so much, but I hadn’t had an opportunity to release my sexual tensions. I just told him not to dwell on it because I enjoyed it immensely and was fine the outcome, plus I was dead tired. Being soaked in cum from head to toe will do that to you, I discovered.

The truth was that I was so worked up for so long, and enjoyed the attention he was giving me, that I was just drained when it was over. Also, I became aware of the fact that I truly love to give, more than I care to receive. This may be why over the years my partners have always seemed to adore me personally, long after our sexual relationships were over. Truthfully, I can’t think of a single person I’ve slept with that are not still close friend of mine today. So, I guess you can say that I’m a self proclaimed “giver”.

The next morning presented a myriad of problems for the two of us, the first of which were the bed sheets. After we ended our sexual escapades in the wee hours of the morning, the sheets and my pillow were covered in Ronnie’s precum and cum, and my precum, of course. I had been leaking like a sieve and oozed precum all over the sheets on my side of the bed, and what I couldn’t swallow of Ronnie’s ejaculations was everywhere else. So, Ronnie got up at 4:00 am and retrieved some sheets out of the linen closet down stairs, before my Aunt and Uncle rose at 4:30 am. We changed the sheets and stuffed the ones with the cum stains all over them in the closet. There was no way we could explain those massive cum stains to his Mom. We decided we could wash those later so my aunt wouldn’t be the wiser. The other problem we had to deal with was Ronnie. To put it delicately, he was sort of moving a little stiffly (no pun intended) due to the fact his ass was sore from me fisting him. And, his balls were sore from coming so hard, so many times. His discomfort was noticeable, which I continually teased him about that morning, telling him that I felt fine, and that it was a poor reflection on him that the virgin was holding up so well, under the circumstances. He grimaced and said, “Your time is coming, smartass!” as he chuckled painfully.

We washed up the best we could from the sink and got dressed since we didn’t have time to shower before we fed the horses. Then we would go to breakfast and begin the daily chores, after we ate. There is no vacation on a ranch if you’re there to work, so unlike the rest of my family that just came to stay for a couple of weeks and ride, I had chores to do.
We hit the barn and started putting the feed bins in the four wheeler flat bed trailer. It took a number of trips to take the bins out to the various feed troughs spread out around the main barn and corrals, so we could empty them. It usually takes a good hour and a half to get that done; by 6:00 AM breakfast is ready so we head to the house and eat.

Fortunately, Ronnie was getting around much better by the time we entered the kitchen. You couldn’t beat a Southern breakfast in our family. My aunt always had eggs, bacon, country ham, homemade biscuits, redeye gravy, and grits. I never ate lunch when I was on the ranch because breakfast would stick with you all day, even as hard as we worked.

At breakfast that morning, the family was sitting around the table when Ronnie and I walked in from the barn. Well, all except for my sister of course, who never rose before nine or ten, during summer break. We sat down across from Uncle Bill and my Stepdad, Mike, who immediately started in on me, grumpily commenting to Uncle Bill that I always stayed the summer with one or the other aunt and uncle just to get away from them; them meaning the family. “More like, away from you!” I thought.

My uncle, who was a really great guy by the way, looked over at my stepdad and said, “Hell Mike, you should be happy that the boy wants to spend time with his family, ands will’in to work as hard as he does. If you think he’s going to be on vacation around here, maybe you should work the ranch with all of us for the next two weeks! I think you’d realize it’s pretty hard work!”

“Good luck with that Bill!” my Mom said sarcastically. Sometimes I thought she didn’t like the bastard any better than I did.

Uncle Bill went on to say, “Johnny (my Mom’s other brother) told me that David had worked with them on their ranch the last three summers, and he was a damn hard worker. Personally, I’m thankful to have another pair of hands around here, and I know Ronnie is.” My stepdad remarked that he didn’t understand why a boy my age would want to be away from home and work like that; there was something unnatural about it. “Yeah, you’re one to talk about unnatural, you bastard!” I thought, angrily. Uncle Bill just shook his head in disbelief, rolled his eyes, gave me a look I couldn’t read, and then changed the subject.

My mother, a 5’3” 105 lb. fiery redhead, with a temper to match, looked at my stepdad and said curtly, “Shut up Mike, you’re not making any sense. What is your problem!?” When Mom spoke you listened in my family. “I know what your problem is; you’re sober, dickhead!!” I said to myself. Looking up, my mother briefly caught my eye, as a sympathetic expression quickly passed between us. The exchange did not go unnoticed by my uncle. He flashed an understanding smile at me and continued to eat.

Mike and I didn’t get along very well, and I’m not aware of any of Mom’s family that liked him, but they tolerated him. It was probably because he was an alcoholic of the first magnitude, and had a tendency to get crocked and show his ass, badly! Mom’s family are good people and treated him tolerantly because of Mom; even when he got blitzed, showed his butt, and transformed into his super villain persona “Super Bad Ass”. It still amazes me what alcohol with do to people.

My uncle was 6’3” 230 lbs, had a broad chest, was all muscle, and a combat vet. Mike tended not to play the “bad ass” card around Uncle Bill. What they didn’t know was that Mike was a physically abusive SOB, among other things. In retrospect, it was probably a good thing my uncle was unaware of some of his lesser known tendencies. I pretty sure he would have met with a serious accident. My Uncle Bill ended up being like a father to me over the years.

After his exchange with Mike, Uncle Bill looked across the table and in his commanding voice said, “Boys, I need you two to go out to pasture five today and move those horses over to seven. The grass is getting down to the nubs and we need to move’em to better pasture, so that pasture can recover.”

Ronnie spoke up, “Dad, if we have to herd those horses to seven we can’t take the dirt bikes; we’ll have to take cutting horses.”

“Yeah, so?” Uncle Bill said flatly, his expression never wavering.

Ronnie looked down at the table for a second and then said, “Dad, you know that means we’ll have to be out overnight because it’s all the way up in the far Northwestern sector.”

Uncle Bill carefully eyed Ronnie, “You got something better to do today Son?” he gruffly asked.

Ronnie looked at his Dad, then quickly over at me, and asked, “You up for a ride Cuz?” I didn’t reply I just shook my head in acknowledgement,then we both laughed. He looked at Uncle Bill and laughingly said, “Well, apparently not!” and grinned broadly.

Uncle Bill sniffed and said absently, “I didn’t think so.” Without taking a breath he continued, “Take a pack horse, you’ll need one. Also, you might want to check the adjacent pastures while you’re up there and see what they look like. If any of the other stock needs to be moved, go ahead and do it. No need to make two trips later.” Uncle Bill said, casually. And that was that! “Road trip!!” I thought.

“Ok, we’ll pack enough food for three nights, just in case.” Ronnie said nonchalantly.

“Don’t forget to take your rifles.” Uncle Bill said dryly.
Mom’s eyes widened. “Why do they need rifles, Bill?” she asked, a slight edge to her voice.

“Janet, don’t get all bent out of shape, it’s so they can shoot coyotes!” my Uncle replied. “We have a lot of’em around here, and they can take down a fold in the spring if the pack is big enough, so we shoot’em on sight.”

With that Ronnie and I headed for the loft and packed our saddle bags for the ride.

When we came downstairs with our saddlebags, my aunt had already retrieved, and was in the middle of packing, the panniers (it’s a pack) for the pack horse. While my aunt was finishing packing our supplies and cooking gear, Ronnie and I saddled our horses and put a pack saddle on third; got our rifles, canteens, extra water, and the two man tent, in case it rained. Aunt Rita met us with the panniers and I cinched them to the pack saddle, with the tent and the other gear, and we were ready to go. We mounted our rides and started off on our long trek to the northwest sector.

My uncle walked out of the barn as we were riding past on our way out, and handed Ronnie a large suede bag cinched at the top with a draw string. “I wonder what that’s about.” I thought.

“You boys take care now.” my uncle said smiling at both of us.

“Got your talkie Ronnie?” Uncle Bill asked.

“I’ve got it Dad, but it’s not much good where we’re going.” Ronnie said.

“Well, take it anyway.” Uncle Bill said as he looked over at me. “You can’t be too careful now can you? Right David!?”

“Yes Sir!” I said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey Uncle Bill.” I said, mischievously.

“Yeah son?” he responded.

“When you pick the mounts for the family to ride, do me a favor.” I said jokingly.

“Yeah?” my Uncle replied, suspiciously.

“Make sure you give Mike a really “good” mount.” I said, “He’s an excellent horseman and needs a mount with spirit.” I added, still grinning wildly.

“Now Son, you know full good and well that asshole can’t even fall off a horse properly.” he said with a serious tone to his voice, betrayed by the huge grin on his face.

“I know, but he swears he can really ride.” I said winking at him as spurred my horse laughing.

“Only a damn bar stool!” he responded glibly, as I rode away from the barn.

Chapter 3

As we silently rode west through a seemingly endless sea of alfalfa fields, that my uncle grew for winter feed supplement, my thoughts drifted back to the previous night, and Ronnie. My thoughts and emotions were jumbled and confused; on one hand I felt guilty as hell about having sex, albeit one sided, with another guy, and on the other hand, I really enjoyed it. The problem was that the more I thought about it, the hotter I became. It was 98 in shade, the fact it was making me hotter, was saying something. As I rode along, I kept fantasizing about sucking his cock and him going down on me, plus a myriad of other sexual ideas that were popping into my head. Somewhere along the way I began to think about what it would be like to be fucked in the ass by my cousin. Hell, I’d used a brush handle for years and it felt good, but it was not nearly the size of my cousin’s cock. I found myself mesmerized by his sensuality, watching his body as he gently swayed in time with the movement of his horse.

Ronnie was riding a half stride in front, and to my right, since I had the pack horse tethered to my saddle. We had been riding the better part of two hours, neither one of us uttering a word; last night had not come up, which sort of bothered me for some reason I couldn’t explain. I wondered if Ronnie regretted the whole thing now, or if he had second thoughts, or if it was something else. As I was contemplating the possibilities, he turned in his saddle and asked if I wanted to take a break.

“I’m fine, why?” I asked puzzled.

“Well, I know this is your first long ride since last summer at Uncle Johnny’s, so I didn’t want you to get saddle sores, that would be a real shame.” he said, with an mischievous little laugh.

Okay, if I had any doubts before, his laugh and the amorous look he gave me dispelled them immediately.

“Okay Cuz” he said, “let’s ride another hour or so and stop. There’s a place a ways up to water the horses and get out of the Sun.” he said, as he removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his shoulder.

Chapter 4

I didn’t really notice the heat as we rode, I was lost in lustful visions of what I thought might happen over the next two or three days. As usual, my imagination didn’t live up to the reality.

The next hour seemed to fly by for me and I was caught unawares as we came to a stop in front of a small pond that was used primarily as a watering hole for livestock. About fifteen yards to the south of the pond stood a small wooden structure about ten feet by ten feet, that was open on all sides, and had a slanted shingled roof supported by four creosol poles. There was another creosol pole lashed horizontally between the two back most vertical posts, which acted as a rail for tying off horses.

“What in the world did your Dad build that for?” I asked quizzically.

“I think he was going to build a line shack and changed his mind.” Ronnie mused.

“Hey, at least it gives you a little shade in the middle of the day, huh.” Ronnie said comically.

“Yeah, maybe, if you standup the entire time.” I said jokingly.

We both stepped down and walked our horsed to the edge of the pond, dropping their reins as they put their heads down to drink. These horses were well trained, so there wasn’t much of a chance they’d just take off. So, we let them walk free to water and eat grass. I grabbed my canteen and walked over to the little roofed structure to get out of the sun.

Uncorking my canteen I took a long drink of the cool water, then leaned over the rail, my forearm resting on the rough wood. With my back to Ronnie, I rested, looking out over the rolling field of grass, taking in the view, when he spoke.

“Everything Ok with you this morning?” he asked, puzzled.

“Yeah fine, why do you ask?” I casually replied.

“Well, you’ve been awful quite during the ride, and I was wondering if you might be upset about last night, that’s all.” Ronnie said nervously.