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Martine |
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As I walked, passing the back of the farmhouse,
with these thoughts in my head, I saw Ned come to the back of the house. It was
an area to which I hadn't paid much attention before. Up against the wall of
the house was a wooden bench, and there were various carpentry tools there. It
was quite untidy. Ned was one of the farmhands, a boy of about nineteen years
old. He was tall and well built, and he was now dressed in his overalls and his
boots. I had before admired his muscular arms and shoulders. He was very
attractive.
Then I got a shock. He reached up and pulled a piece of
string, and a stream of water started to come down from a shower head,
something else I hadn't noticed. He was going to have a shower. That meant he
would take his clothes off. I immediately dashed into some bushes, which were,
very conveniently, at my side.
Ned pulled the straps of his overalls
down over his shoulders. I had only ever seen his arms and his shoulders,
which, as I said, were very muscular, but I had never seen his whole body
before, and he was just as muscular all over. His body was beautiful.
I thought, with some relief, and, if I'm honest, a little disappointment, that
he would probably just wash his top half, but I was wrong. He kicked off his
boots, and started to slide his overalls down over his legs and, as I had a
fleeting glimpse of his body as he bent over, and a picture of the top of his
head, I shut my eyes. I could find my way out of this bush with my eyes closed
if I had to, and I would never have to see this spectacle that was before me. I
had not really seen his private parts, just a fleeting glimpse. I could simply
walk away, and then I asked myself who I was trying to kid.
I opened
my eyes. He stood, facing me, under the water, completely naked. His penis hung
down between his legs like a large sausage, his balls behind it, and a mass of
curly hair, just like mine, all around it. I thought back to the horse's penis
and how I had thought that I had no comparison. Now I had, and it was about the
size of a sausage that I would have on my plate for breakfast. I had imagined
that they would be smaller. I looked at the rest of him and, my, he was a
handsome young man. His chest, his waist, his hips and his thighs were
statuesque. But it was his penis what fascinated me, and I looked back to
it.
By now, he was soaping under his arms and around his chest and his
waist. Then he put his arm behind his back, to wash his backside, I supposed,
and, in doing this, the front of his body was thrust forward, and his penis
lifted somewhat. It had been so still, hanging there, and now it had moved. I
was very excited.
But then, his hand came back again, and he started
to soap all around his penis, and his balls, running his hand back up, to do
his chest and his armpits again, but then, again, back down to his nether
regions. I thought then that it might have been my imagination, but I thought
that his penis had grown somewhat. He continued to wash himself and I gazed at
this engorged sausage that hung between his legs. I could now see that it
wasn't my imagination, and that it definitely was bigger than it had been when
I had first seen it.
Then, rinsing himself and turning off the water,
he sat down on the edge of the wooden bench with his legs apart and his penis
and balls hanging down between them. It was a magnificent sight, and it was
definitely bigger, pendulous. Then he actually took hold of his penis in his
hand, and started to rub it backwards and forwards. I had heard that boys did
this, but I had no idea why. He obviously thought that there was nobody else at
the farm.
As I watched, I was aware that it was becoming bigger still,
and I could see that the skin that covered it was being stretched and that as
he drew backwards on it, a purple head was exposed, and then covered again as
his hand pushed forwards. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from letting him
know of my presence. I wanted to be doing this for him. I wanted to have that
penis in my hand. It was the strongest expression I had ever had of my budding
sexuality.
As I watched his movements, I could feel that I was getting
wet between my legs, and I grabbed myself there. I continued to watch, and my
hand started to move, to rouse myself into even more excitement than Ned's
penis had caused. I sat down, ensuring that I had still a good view and, with
my legs apart, I put my hand inside my knickers and started to finger myself. I
had an immediate orgasm, and I pushed my hand into my mouth, as I did in the
bathroom at home, to damp any noise I might make.
As I looked back at
Ned, his penis had grown enormously. It was now twice as big as it had been,
and it was as stiff as one of the poles he used for bailing the hay. It was a
spectacle. His hand was now moving faster up and down the shaft, when,
suddenly, great gobs of white cream started to gush from its purple head. I
knew that men ejaculated, but I had thought that it happened when it was inside
a woman's vagina, and that it would be a sort of a liquid trickle, a little
like peeing, I thought. I had not imagined this powerful shooting of thick
white cream.
Then his hand slowed down. He continued to rub himself up
and down, but more slowly until, eventually, he took the base of his penis
between his thumb and forefinger, right down where it joined his balls, and
drew his thumb and finger forward, forcing more of the white cream out of the
end of it. He did this two or three times, and then flicked it once or twice,
as one would flick a hose pipe to get rid of the last drops of water in the
tube.
Then, he took a towel and started to dry himself. To my
disappointment, his penis had lost its stiffness - I had loved it when it was
so rampant - and it was now hanging again between his legs, but my compensation
was that, although it had lost its stiffness, it hadn't lost its size, and it
was hanging there twice as big as my first sight of it.
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