What happens on the Farm, stays on the Farm
"Hey, you okay?" a gruff voice cut through the cold night air.
The man who looked to be in his thirties groaned, vision blurry. He felt a firm hand grasp his shoulder, and he looked up to see an older farmer, his face lined with wrinkles and a thick beard the colour of the surrounding soil. The farmer's eyes were filled with concern as he leaned over the crumpled form of the man. The world around them was stark, with the only light coming from the lonely beam of a single farmhouse window in the distance.
"Looks like you've had a nasty spill," the farmer said, his voice filled with the warmth of a man accustomed to hard work and quiet nights. "Come on, let's get you inside."
The man nodded feebly, his head pounding in protest. With the farmer's help, he stumbled towards the farmhouse, the gravel of the driveway biting into his palms as he tried to push himself upright. Each step was a battle, but the farmer's firm grip and steady encouragement kept him moving forward. The farmhouse loomed closer, a beacon of safety in the otherwise desolate landscape.
Once inside, the warmth of the farmhouse enveloped them, a stark contrast to the chilly night outside. The scent of something savory simmering on the stove filled the air, making the man's stomach growl despite his pain. The farmer helped him to a chair at the kitchen table and disappeared into another room, returning with a wet cloth and a steaming mug of something that smelled faintly of mint.
"Here, press this to your forehead," the farmer instructed, placing the cloth in the man's hand. "It'll help with the dizziness. Now, drink this. It's a home remedy for shock."
The man did as he was told, sipping the hot liquid tentatively. The mint was stronger now, and it soothed his throat as it went down. The warmth spread through him, bringing with it a hint of clarity. He took a deeper breath, trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing he remembered was the car skidding out of control on the deserted road.
"Thanks," he murmured, setting the mug down. "What's your name?"
The farmer's eyes crinkled with a smile. "Call me Tom."
The man nodded, his mind racing. "What's mine?"
Tom hesitated for a moment before speaking. "You're my son, Billy. You've had a bit of an accident. Don't you remember?"
Billy searched his foggy mind, but all he could come up with was a blank slate. He looked around the farmhouse, the worn wooden beams and the faded floral wallpaper, trying to recall any of it. Nothing.
"I don't remember," he said, his voice thick with confusion. "What happened?"
Tom sighed heavily, setting the cloth aside. "You've had a bit of a knock on the head, Billy. Sometimes, when that happens, your memory gets all jumbled up. But don't you worry, it'll come back to you. In the meantime, let's get you cleaned up and fed."
Billy allowed himself to be led into a small bathroom, where the warm water of the shower stung his bruised body. He felt the dirt and grime of the road wash away, but the feeling of disorientation remained. He had no recollection of this place, of this life as a farmer's son. Tom had provided him with a set of black rubber overalls and boots, which matched Tom’s, he was surprised that they fit him like a second skin, as if they were made for him.
As they worked side by side in the barn the next morning, the tension between them grew palpable. Billy felt drawn to Tom in a way that went beyond familial affection. Their movements synchronized, their hands brushing against each other as they tended to the animals, sending shivers down Billy's spine. He couldn't ignore the attraction that simmered just beneath the surface of their interactions.
Tom seemed to sense the shift in the air, his gaze lingering longer than usual on Billy's form. He was a man of few words, but his eyes spoke volumes. The way they traced Billy's every move made it clear that he felt the pull as well. They were both ruggedly handsome in their rubber boots and overalls, the scent of the farm melding with their own masculine aromas.
"You're a natural at this," Tom said gruffly as they finished feeding mucking out the barn. "It's like you've been doing it your whole life."
Billy nodded, the motion sending a dull throb through his head. He didn't know how to explain that he felt as though he'd never done this before, yet his body seemed to move with an instinctual grace that belied his amnesia. He watched Tom as they worked, noticing the way his muscles flexed under his tight black bib and brace rubber overalls, the gentle way he spoke to the animals, and the care he took in every task. Billy found himself drawn to the older man's strength and competence.
As the days passed, Billy began to settle into the rhythm of farm life. The physical labour was demanding, but it also brought a sense of peace that he hadn't felt in... well, as long as he could remember. The pain of his accident faded, but the memories remained elusive, leaving him feeling like a stranger in his own skin. Yet, there was comfort in the familiarity of the routine and the quiet companionship of Tom.
Their attraction grew stronger, a current that hummed just beneath the surface of their daily tasks. They'd exchange glances that lingered a bit too long, their hands brushing together more frequently, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Billy felt conflicted. This wasn't how he'd imagined his life, but the connection was undeniable.
One evening, after a long day in the fields, they sat on the porch of the farmhouse.
the sun setting in a fiery blaze across the sky. Tom's hand rested on Billy's knee, warm and comforting. Billy looked down at their clasped hands, the calluses of a hardworking man against his own roughened palms. It felt right, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.
"You know, Billy," Tom began, his voice low and gruff, "I've noticed something different about you."
Billy's heart skipped a beat, his gaze locked on their entwined hands. He knew what Tom meant, but the words hung in the air unspoken. The tension grew thick, the night sounds muted backdrop to their silence.
"What do you mean?" Billy asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Tom took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Billy's. "It's like... like you're seeing me for the first time. Like you're discovering something new every day."
Billy felt the weight of his secret pressing down on him. "Maybe I am," he murmured, not quite meeting Tom's gaze.
Tom leaned in closer, his eyes searching Billy's. "What's going on with you, son?"
The word "son" echoed in Billy's mind, a stark reminder of their relationship. Yet, the pull was too strong. He looked into Tom's eyes, and the truth spilled out. "I don't remember you, or any of this. I don't remember my life before the accident."
Tom's hand tightened on Billy's knee, his expression a mix of shock and concern. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know who I am," Billy said, his voice cracking. "But I know I want this, I want you."
Tom studied him for a long moment, the weight of the confession hanging heavy between them. His eyes searched Billy's, looking for any sign of doubt or deception, but all he saw was raw honesty. The silence stretched out, filled only by the distant sounds of the farm settling into the night.
Finally, Tom moved his hand to Billy's crotch feeling the rubber.
Tom cleared his throat, his voice thick with emotion. "Well, son, if that's how you feel, we've got some things to figure out."
Billy nodded, his heart racing. He knew that what he was feeling was wrong, that their relationship was forbidden by societal norms. But here, on this isolated farm, with the night pressing in around them, those rules felt a million miles away. The desire that had been building between them was too intense to ignore any longer.
Tom leaned in closer, his calloused hand moving slowly up Billy's thigh. Billy's breath hitched as Tom's thumb brushed against the bulge in his overalls. He felt the heat of the older man's gaze on him, and he knew that there was no turning back. The world outside had ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the connection that pulsed between them.
"You're sure?" Tom's voice was a low rumble, filled with a hunger that matched Billy's own.
Billy nodded, his heart racing. "I've never been more sure of anything."
Tom leaned in, his breath hot against Billy's cheek. "Then let's not waste any more time," he murmured, his hand sliding into the opening of Billy's overalls. Billy gasped as Tom's rough fingers closed around his hardening cock, stroking it gently The sensation was overwhelming, and he leaned into the touch, unable to resist the intensity of his attraction.
Their kiss was explosive, a culmination of weeks of unspoken desire. Billy felt the stubble of Tom' beard against his skin as their tongues danced together, tasting of sweat and earth. They kissed like men starved of affection, desperate to consume one another. Tom's hand worked faster, eliciting moans from Billy that were swallowed by the night.
Breaking away, Billy stood, his body trembling with need. He reached for Tom, pulling him to his feet. They stumbled into the farmhouse, The rubber of their overalls made a slick sound as they peeled them off, revealing their aroused forms. Tom's chest was a landscape of muscles and scars, a testament to a life of hard work. Billy traced the lines with his fingertips, his cock aching for more.
They made their way to Tom’s bedroom, the floorboards creaking beneath their booted feet. The room was simple, with a double bed and a small dresser, but it was filled with the promise of passion that neither could ignore. Tom pushed Billy onto the bed, his eyes dark with desire. Billy's heart hammered in his chest as Tom straddled him, their bodies now bare except for the rubber boots that remained, a symbol of their shared life on the farm.
Their kisses grew more urgent, their hands exploring each other with a hunger that was insatiable. Billy's cock was rock-hard, begging for release, but he knew this was more than just about sex. It was about finding something real in a world where everything else was a mystery. Tom' strong hands roamed over Billy's body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Billy arched into the touch.
Tom broke the kiss, panting heavily, his eyes burning with a need that matched Billy's own. He leaned down, capturing one of Billy's nipples in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue before moving to the other. Billy's back bowed off the bed, his moans filling the room. The older man's beard tickled and teased as he kissed a line down Billy's chest, over his stomach, and lower.
Billy's eyes went wide as Tom took him in his mouth, the wet heat enveloping his cock. He'd never felt anything like it, and he grabbed fistfuls of the farmer's hair, his hips bucking involuntarily. Tom took him deep, his throat working as he sucked and licked, driving Billy to the brink of ecstasy. The sensation was almost too much, and Billy could feel his orgasm building, his toes curling in his rubber boots.
Tom' hands were everywhere, stroking Billy's thighs, cupping his ass, pulling him closer. Billy's breath came in ragged gasps as he lost himself in the moment, his mind a whirlwind of sensation. He could feel Tom' erection pressing against him, and he reached down to return the favour, wrapping his hand around the thick, hard length. Tom groaned around his cock, the vibration sending shivers down Billy's spine.
Their bodies moved in a silent symphony of passion, each touch and kiss a declaration of their feelings. Billy had never felt so alive, so connected to another person. His hand stroked Tom in time with the older man's movements, the rhythm building between them. Tom's breath grew ragged against his skin, and Billy knew he was close.
With a final, desperate pull, Billy brought Tom's cock to his mouth, tasting the saltiness of his desire. The older man's body tensed, his hands gripping the bedpost as he tried to hold back. Billy sucked harder, eager to feel him come apart. Tom' eyes rolled back, and with a guttural moan, he released, his warmth flooding Billy's mouth.
They lay there, panting, their bodies tangled together. The silence of the farmhouse was broken only by the sound of their breathing and the distant lowing of a cow. Billy felt a strange mix of emotions—relief, excitement, and a hint of fear at what they'd just done, but it felt right.
Tom leaned over, kissing Billy gently on the forehead before sliding off the bed. He padded over to the dresser, grabbing a small bottle of lubricant.
"Let's not stop there," Tom murmured, his voice thick with lust.
Billy nodded, his own need still raging. He watched as Tom coated his fingers with the slick substance, his heart racing at the sight. Tom's gaze never left Billy's as he slid his hand between his own thighs, his eyes hooded with desire. Billy felt his own cock twitch in response, his body yearning for more.
Tom returned to the bed, his expression one of hunger and possession. He positioned himself behind Billy, and Billy felt the warmth of his body as Tom' cock pressed against his ass. He gasped as Tom' lubricated fingers began to probe, gently pushing past the tight ring of muscle. The sensation was foreign, yet felt right.
"Relax," Tom murmured in his ear, his breath hot and heavy. "We've got all night."
Billy nodded, his body trembling as he felt the pressure increase. He bit his lip, his eyes squeezed shut, and then with a gentle push, Tom entered him, filling him with a sensation that was both painful and exhilarating. He tensed, his nails digging into the mattress as Tom began to move slowly, his hips rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm.
The pain soon gave way to pleasure, and Billy found himself pushing back into Tom, desperate for more. The older man's grip on his hips was firm, guiding him as they moved together in a dance as old as time itself. Billy's mind was a whirlwind of sensation, his body responding in ways he'd never imagined. The rubber of their boots squeaked against the bed as they moved, a sound that only served to heighten the intensity of the moment.
Tom' strokes grew deeper, more urgent, and Billy felt himself being pushed closer and closer to the edge. He reached down, his hand wrapping around his own cock, stroking in time with Tom' movements. The room was filled with the sounds of their passion—the slap of skin on skin, the grunts of effort, and the wet sounds of their union.
The pressure inside Billy built and built until he couldn't take it anymore. He cried out, his body convulsing as he came, spilling onto the bed beneath them. Tom followed soon after, his grip tightening on Billy's hips as he buried himself deep, filling Billy with his release.
They collapsed onto the bed, their breathing ragged and their hearts pounding in their chests. Billy felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the physical exertion. It was a feeling of belonging, of home, that he hadn't felt since before the accident. Tom pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him, and Billy let himself be held, the tremors of his climax still coursing through his body.
The room grew quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old farmhouse and the rustle of the sheets. Billy lay there, his mind racing with questions and emotions. What had just happened? Was this wrong? But as he felt Tom's steady heartbeat against his back, he knew that for now, at least, he didn't care. The comfort and pleasure he'd found in those moments were too potent to ignore.
They lay there for a while, their bodies still entwined. Billy felt Tom's hand move to stroke his hair, the gesture tender and reassuring. "You okay?" Tom asked, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet room.
Billy nodded, his breathing slowly returning to normal. "Yeah," he murmured. "More than okay."
Tom pressed a kiss to the back of Billy's neck, his hand continuing to soothe him. "Good," he said gruffly. "You're home now."
The days turned into weeks, and Billy's memories remained elusive. Yet, the bond between him and Tom grew stronger with each passing day. They worked the farm together, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, their passion a secret shared only between them. The rubber overalls and boots that had once felt so foreign now felt like a second skin, a part of their shared identity.
One evening, as they sat at the kitchen table sharing a simple meal, Billy spoke up, his voice tentative. "Tom, I've been thinking..."
Tom looked up from his plate, his eyes questioning. "What's on your mind, son?"
Billy took a deep breath, his heart pounding. "I don't know who I was before the accident, but I know who I am now. And that's all that matters."
Tom studied him, a complex array of emotions playing across his weathered face. "You're still you, Billy," he said firmly. "Whether you remember your past or not, you're still the same person. And you're still my son."
Billy felt a pang of guilt at the word, but it was overshadowed by the fierce attraction that burned between them. He reached across the table, taking Tom' hand in his own. "But I'm also someone else," he whispered. "Someone who wants you."
Tom squeezed his hand, his gaze never wavering. "We'll figure it out," he said, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "Together."
As the months went by, their love for each other blossomed and their love for wearing rubber grew stronger. They found themselves in a new kind of routine, one that included not just the back-breaking work of the farm but also passionate nights filled with exploration and discovery. Billy began to feel as though he had always known this life, as though the memories that eluded him were just a distant dream. The farm became his reality, and Tom, his everything.
Their days were filled with the sounds of animals and machinery, their nights with whispers of love and the squeak of rubber on skin. They'd lie in bed, entangled in each other's arms, the scent of the farm and their mingled sweat a constant reminder of their shared existence. Billy would trace the lines of Tom' face with his fingertips, memorizing every crevice and curve, as if by doing so, he could somehow fill in the gaps in his own past.
The farm became a sanctuary for them, a place where they could be who they truly were without fear of judgment. They wore their rubber overalls and boots with a sense of pride, the protective gear now a symbol of their love as much as their work. The world outside the farm's borders grew fainter with each passing day, until it was little more than a distant memory, a fading photograph in Billy's mind.
But the outside world had a way of intruding, even in the most secluded places. One morning, as they were tending to the livestock, a car pulled up the long driveway, raising a cloud of dust that hung in the air like a premonition. Billy's heart sank as he recognized the vehicle—it was the local sheriff's cruiser.
Tom stiffened beside him, his hand resting on the small of Billy's back. "Looks like we've got company," he murmured, his voice tight with tension.
Billy turned to face the approaching figure, his stomach in knots. The sheriff stepped out of the car, his eyes scanning the two of them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
"Afternoon, Tom," the sheriff called out. "How's the farm treating you today?"
Tom forced a smile, his hand moving to the small of Billy's back in a silent show of support. "Can't complain, Sam. What brings you out here?"
Sam's gaze slid to Billy, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Just thought I'd check in on you folks," he said, his tone nonchalant. "Haven't seen you in town in a while."
Billy felt the weight of his stare, his heart racing. The sheriff knew something was off; it was in the way he talked, the way he lingered just a beat too long on certain words. But what did he know? Billy's mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of his past, trying to remember if there was something that could come back to haunt them.
Tom spoke up, his voice steady. "You remember My son Billy."
Sam's eyes widened slightly before a smile crept across his face. "Well, I'll be," he said, walking closer. "Not seen you in ages Billy."
Billy's palms grew slick with sweat as the sheriff approached, his gut telling him that their secret might not be as safe as they thought. Tom stepped forward, his hand moving to rest on Billy's shoulder. "Billy's had a bit of an accident," he explained. "He's Lost his memory. Been helping him fill in the gaps."
Sam nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Billy's. "That's quite the bump on the head," he said, gesturing to the scar. "You sure you're okay, son?"
Billy swallowed hard, the lie feeling like a boulder in his throat. "Yeah," he managed to croak out, while getting flustered, he picked up, what Tom had said. "I'm getting there." Dad’s been a great help.
Sam studied them both for a moment longer before his expression softened. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, Billy. But I'm sure Tom here is taking good care of you." He clapped Tom on the shoulder, the gesture oddly paternal. "You two keep safe, and if you need anything, you know where to find me."
With that, he climbed back into his car and drove away, the dust settling in his wake. Billy felt his body relax, the tension draining from his muscles. He looked up at Tom, who was watching him with a concerned expression.
"You okay?" Tom asked, his hand still resting on Billy's shoulder.
Billy nodded, but the encounter had left him feeling unsettled. The sheriff's knowing look had pierced through the bubble of their private world, and for the first time, Billy wondered if their relationship would ever truly be accepted. "Yeah," he said, his voice shaky. "Just... a lot to take in."
Tom squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "We'll handle it," he said, his eyes firm. "We've got each other, and that's all that matters."
They returned to their work, but the sheriff's visit lingered in the air like a storm cloud. Billy felt the tension in every movement, every shared glance, as if their secret was a living thing that could be snatched away at any moment. Yet, the farm remained their sanctuary, the rubber of their overalls and boots a silent declaration of their bond.
At the end of the day, Tom led Billy to their bedroom “Let's take away those tensions”, his voice soothing and filled with warmth. Billy nodded, feeling the need to escape the outside world, even if just for a little while. Their room was dimly lit, the sun casting long shadows through the dusty curtains. The smell of earth and sweat mingled with the faint scent of rubber from their gear.
They stood there, both still in their rubber overalls and boots, their eyes locked in silent understanding. Tom reached up, his thumb lingering on the soft skin of his cheek. Billy leaned into the touch, his eyes closing briefly.
Tom reached for the rear zip to Billy's rubber overalls.
He felt a shiver run down his spine as Tom' calloused hands slid the zipper down, the cool air of the room kissing his bare skin. He felt Tom's finger circling his hole, slipping in and out, coating it with lube. He bit his lip to stifle a moan, his body already responding to the familiar touch.
Tom's eyes never left Billy's as he worked, his gaze filled with a fierce love and need that was almost overwhelming. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and gruff. "I can't believe you're mine, A son to be proud of."
Billy felt his cheeks flush, his body trembling with anticipation. Tom's cock jutting out of his rubber overalls, revealing his hard cock, out from a nest of graying hair. Billy's eyes were drawn to it, his mouth watering with desire.
Tom reached for the bottle of lubricant they kept on the nightstand, the same one that had been used so many times before. He coated his fingers with a generous amount before reaching around to Billy's arse, his touch gentle yet firm. Billy gasped as Tom slid a lubricated digit inside him, stretching him open.
The older man's movements were slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving Billy's face. "You're so tight," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Like a perfect little hole made just for me."
Billy moaned, his body arching back into the touch. The sensation was exquisite, the feeling of being filled by Tom's finger both thrilling. He wanted more, needed more, and he pushed back, urging Tom deeper.
Tom groaned, his own need evident in the strain of his voice. He added another finger, scissoring them apart to prepare Billy for what was to come. Billy's breath hitched as he felt the stretch, the slight burn morphing into a delicious ache that had him panting for more.
"Ready?" Tom asked, his voice tight with control. Billy nodded, his eyes locked on Tom' intense gaze. The older man stepped closer, aligning their bodies until the tip of his cock pressed against Billy's waiting entrance. Billy felt the blunt pressure, his body clenching in anticipation.
With a gentle push, Tom entered him, the sensation of being filled making Billy's knees wobble. Tom held him steady, his arms wrapping around Billy's waist, his cock sliding in inch by inch. The tightness was almost painful, but Billy bit his lip, willing his body to adjust. Tom's hand slipped around to stroke Billy's own cock, the rhythm matching his slow, careful thrusts.
Their breathing grew ragged, their movements more urgent. Billy's eyes rolled back in his head as Tom hit that perfect spot, the one that made his toes curl in his rubber boots. He felt Tom's cock thicken, the head brushing against his prostate with each stroke. It was as if every nerve ending in his body was on fire, the pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.
Tom leaned down, his beard scraping against Billy's neck as he whispered sweet nothings into his ear. "You're mine," he murmured. "You've always been mine."
Billy's eyes snapped open, meeting Tom's intense gaze. He nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yours Dad."
The word "Dad" hung in the air, a reminder of the taboo nature of their love, but in that moment, it only served to make their connection stronger. Tom's grip tightened on Billy's cock, his strokes growing more insistent as he began to fuck him in earnest. The bed groaned beneath them, the headboard thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm that matched their heartbeats.
Billy's eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, his body a taut bowstring ready to snap. He could feel Tom's cock stretching him, filling him in a way that nothing else ever had. The sounds of their lovemaking—the slap of skin, the squelch of lubricant, the squeak of rubber on rubber—were a symphony of passion that drowned out the outside world.
Their movements grew more frenzied, their breathing harsh and ragged. Billy's hips rocked back to meet each of Tom's thrusts, his body begging for more. Tom's hand on Billy's cock was a masterful dance of pressure and release, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.
As Billy felt himself teetering on the brink of climax, Tom leaned in closer, his mouth capturing Billy's in a searing kiss. Billy's eyes flew open, their gazes locking as the world around them disappeared. The only things that mattered were the two of them, connected in the most primal way possible.
Their movements grew wilder, their bodies a blur of rubber-covered limbs and grasping hands. Tom's thrusts grew deeper, more demanding, and Billy could feel the tension coiling in the older man's body. Billy's own orgasm was close, the sensation building with each stroke of Tom's hand on his cock.
The room was a cocoon of heat and desire, the only sounds the harsh panting of their breath and the slap of skin against skin. Tom's hand slid down Billy's chest, the calloused palm brushing against Billy's nipple before continuing its journey down to his cock. Billy's back arched, his body a canvas of pleasure, as Tom's hand worked him closer and closer to the edge.
Their movements grew more erratic, their passion a tangible force that seemed to fill the farmhouse bedroom. Billy could feel Tom's cock swelling inside him, the pressure building to a crescendo. He knew he wouldn't last much longer, his body begging for release.
With a final, desperate thrust, Tom buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he came, filling Billy with his warmth. Billy's own orgasm followed immediately, his cock spurting between them, the sensation so intense it brought tears to his eyes.
As they lay, chests heaving, bodies trembling with the aftershocks of their shared climax. Tom held Billy tight, his arms wrapped around his waist, keeping him upright. They were both still dressed in their rubber overalls and boots, the sticky mess of their passion the only indication of what had just transpired.
Billy felt a strange mix of emotions—shame, love, and a desperate need to never let go. Tom's grip on him was reassuring, a silent promise that he would never have to face the world alone. They stayed like that for some time, the silence of the farmhouse wrapping around them like a blanket.
Tom was the first to speak, "I think it's time you called me dad from now on"
Billy nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirl inside him. "Okay, Dad," he murmured, the word feeling foreign and yet, oddly right.
Tom kissed the side of Billy's neck, his breath hot and uneven. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "For letting me in, for trusting me."
Billy leaned back into the embrace, his heart racing. "Thank you for... everything," he whispered, his voice shaky. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew he didn't want to face it without his dad by his side.
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