So here I was, riding in a pickup truck alongside the hired help, Manual, totally naked except for my tennis shoes and cap and aside from the fact that I was dying to grab my cock and stroke myself into oblivion, the ride was uneventful. I would begin to get hard then will myself to think non-sexual thoughts. It worked, more or less. I don’t know why I was so afraid to sport an erection in front of this man other than the fact that for all intents and purposes, he was a total stranger, possibly a homicidal maniac. Maybe a serial killer? Oh God, what have I gotten myself into? We didn’t see a single car. He lived about as deep in the sticks as I think is possible. No phone? That was strange. Well hell, everyone I knew had a cell phone but me. A waste of money. We approached his place on a narrow winding road with a thin layer of caliche. There were a series of outbuildings scattered around the property which was thick with trees and undergrowth. We came into sight of a small trailer house that I assumed was his house, but he drove past it and finally came to a stop in front of a larger tin shed with a front porch with dirt floor. Tools were everywhere. Well if this isn’t trailer trash I’ll eat my hat, I thought. Maybe I should just stay in the pickup. At the same time, I felt strangely at ease and at home.
“No need to be nervous,” Manual said as calmly as a Buddhist monk. “I don’t bite, I promise, that is unless you ask me too.” Again he displayed that wonderful smile of his followed by his sweet chuckle. “If you’d feel more comfortable, we can turn around and leave right now, or you could always put on your shorts.”
“What shorts?” I asked, puzzled.
“The ones under your cap,” he said, letting out another one of his contagious chuckles. “There’s about a quarter inch of what appears to be green nylon running shorts sticking out from underneath your cap.”
I self-consciously grabbed my cap to feel for the revealed shorts, then stopped and started to laugh. Manual began laughing and the tension began to melt.
“Next thing I know,” I said, “you’re going to tell me that you get off on getting naked too.”
“You bet your sweet ass I do,” he said, “and you won’t find a tan line on my body, not like that brother-in-law of yours with his lily white butt!”
“How the hell do you know about that?” I asked, intrigued by this man’s perception.
“Simple,” he said. “He never wears a shirt and when he bends over the crack of his ass looks as white as snow. Besides that, he aint shy, and neither is that sister of yours. A couple of times I’ve driven up to the house in the early evening to find them sitting on the porch, Jan wearing that old sheer nightgown and John wearing nothing but a white tee shirt, both buck naked below the waist”
“How do you know they’re naked below the waist?” I asked.
“Well,” he said, “just between you and me, it’s pretty hard to not notice when they invite me to join them for a few beers on the front porch and we spend a couple of hours chatting and they are putting on a show nearly the whole time.”
“What exactly do you mean?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. “That is if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Well, like I said” he went on “your sister wears an old see through nightie that barely covers her pussy and doesn’t begin to hide those giant tits, and Jon, who I rarely see wearing nothing but jeans and boots is suddenly wearing nothing but a white undershirt that don’t even pretend to hide his privates. Don’t get me wrong, Guy, it don’t bother me at all and they know it, in fact I’m totally at ease with them, they are like family and treat me very well. It actually makes me feel good they feel free enough around me to put on a show. Guess they understand how much I enjoy watching.”
“Yea,” I said, “they parade around like that all the time when I’m around but I guess I’m so used to it that it sounded kind of strange when you said they put on a show.”
“They do put on a show, and that’s fine by me, like I said, they are family.”
“What kind of show?
“Oh hell, Guy, I aint sure they'd want me telling on them carrying on with me watching, but we all just get to drinking beers and talking and before I know it he's fingering her pussy and she gets all relaxed, spreads her legs, and he gets a hard on and it just plays out like that, natural like."
"And what other natural like things do they do while you all are having these little drinking socials on the front porch?" I asked, barely able to hide a sense of jealousy that Jan and Jon felt so free around Manual. Other than seeing them fucking the other night in their bedroom they had never done anything like that before while I was around.
"I think I probably already said enough," Manual replied.
"You mean there's more?" I asked. "Please, do share," I said almost pleadingly.
"There aint much more to say. I mean, Jon will go in the house and get some beers and before he sits back down he's got his cock down Jan's throat, hands behind her head, and does a few seconds of some pretty intense face fucking. When he sits down, Jan will go straight for his cock and bury her face in his lap. He looks at me and smiles. They are very open about it all. He'll play with her nipples, that sort of thing. You get the idea. I probably already said too much. Let's change the subject."
"One more question, please", I said, "do they actually fuck with you watching?"
“Yes they do, dude, but let’s save that for another time, I gotta get the wasp spray. I will say this, though, they invite me to watch and I don't hesitate. I’ve watched them fucking on more than one occasion. I like their style, makes me feel at ease. We all like a good show.”
I wondered if Jon and Jan purposely hired a voyeur to satisfy their need to put on a show. Hell, I was beginning to wonder about a lot of things. Obviously they had been putting on a show for him just like they did for me but more openly for sure. All this was just a little hard to take in—well, not too hard. After all, here I was sitting in a pickup truck with a man I'd only met a few minutes ago and I was butt naked.
“So, Manual,” I asked, “do you ever drive around naked?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said. “Come on, let’s get that can of wasp spray and get back on the road. I’ve got quite a few more stops to make before my day is done.”
After finding some wasp spray and getting a brief tour of his very rustic living situation, we headed back to the pickup truck. While I hopped into my side of the cab, Manual opened the driver’s door and put the spray can on the seat between us. He leaned against the side of the pick up and removed each boot, one at a time and placed them on the floor board. He quickly removed his thin sleeveless shirt and then his jeans. He threw everything on the seat and hopped in the cab wearing only his NYPD cap and a very dirty pair of white socks that smelt like a locker room. He was covered in tattoos—not quite overdone, but close to it. I didn’t see any piercings. I don’t usually pay much attention to a man’s cock, but Manuel had one that might fit into the Guinness Book of World Records. I tried not to stare.
“If you open the glove box,” he said, “you’ll find a jar of Vaseline petroleum jelly.”
Next to the lube was a gun. I hated guns, but grabbed the jar of lube and quickly closed the door. I removed the lid and held it for him while he stuck his finger in for a large glob of the goo and quickly spread it around his cock. I did the same and again tried to let the anxiety melt away. We were soon on our way, both of us jacking off, feeling good.
“Nice to meet someone else who likes to do this too,” I said.
“Couldn’t agree more,” he replied, and reached over to shake my hand. It was the greasiest handshake I’ve ever had. He let his hand fall into my lap and wrapped his fist around my cock and began playing with me.
“Hey man, no offense,” I said, gently removing his hand, “but I'm not ready for that.”
“That’s cool" he said, as he went back to stroking his own cock, leaving me to stroke mine. “And I’ve been sitting here thinking how much I would love to fuck your ass,” he said casually.
“I don’t go in for the either, Manual,” I said, “after my last boyfriend I swore to celibacy, but even if I did want to get fucked, I don’t think I could handle a fence post up my ass.”
He chuckled again and said “Don’t say that in front of my cousin.”
“You fuck your own cousin?” I asked, trying not to sound surprised.
“Well, my cousin many times removed. We’re not blood relatives, just kissin’ cousins or something like that. When he's around these parts, he lives in that trailer house we passed a while back. I don't charge him any rent, we just have a mutual agreement. Works for both of us.”
“And he can take that cock of yours up his ass?” I asked with some astonishment.
“All the way and more," he said, "and loves every inch of it. Been trying to teach him to deep throat me but he gets to gaggin so much I just switch holes." Chuckle.
I felt a slight twitch in my cock as I imagined myself astride a fence post. Another twist that was making me think I was in another world.
“Sounds like a fun cousin to have." I said, feeling I was on the verge of shooting a load of cum and not seeing anything that looked like a rag.
“It feels good. Very different from pussy. Much tighter. He's my favorite fuck by far. Got a tight ass, probably like yours. And remember, I'm happy to oblige you anytime, I sure think you might enjoy this."
"Whatever."
Shit, I thought, this guy is something else. I decided to focus on my cock. It was a beautiful summer day, bright sun, clear blue sky. Here I was, naked in the country with the mysterious handyman, both of us masturbating in a pick up driving along a country lane. It was downright twisted and obscene, just the way I liked it. Except for the gun and the fact that he wanted to fuck me, I felt sort of safe enough to kick back and relax, sort of.
“You bout ready to shoot?” Manual asked, breaking the silence and bringing the pick up to a stop on the side of the road.
“Sure man, anytime,” I said, looking around for signs of human life. He opened his door and stepped out on the road in his bare socks and started walking on the road in front of the truck. What the hell, I thought, and jumped out and caught up with him. Shit, this quiet man with a killer cock and a gun in his booty had nerves of steel. He stopped, I stopped. We stood still, stroking, and I watched him shoot his cum all over the ground. I soon followed, thrusting my hips forward and leaning my head back in a hard stretch, bending my knees and coming so hard I thought I might fall to my knees. It was hot and perspiration flowed down my face, my shoulders, my legs.
When we got back to the pick up, Manual quickly dressed and off we headed, back to the farm.
“What’s today,” he suddenly asked me.
“Monday,” I replied, “why?”
“That cousin I told you about will be here Wednesday. He sure likes hot tubs."
He’s subtle, I thought to myself. “Bring him over,” I said, “I’d love to meet him.”
“How about early afternoon on Thursday,” he asked.
“I look forward to it,” I said. I hope I wasn’t getting myself into something deeper than I could handle, but I’ve always believed in trying most things at least once. New adventures and all that stuff. The game was on, and who says all the decadence takes place in the city?
I decided to let Manual take care of the horses and wasp problem while I went inside to take a shower. Just as I finished rinsing my hair and was shutting the water off, the phone began ringing. I grabbed a towel and picked up on the 4th ring.
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