Cider With Bodie


The field was full of workers toiling in the warm September sunshine, reaping a good harvest of ripe, golden corn. Late summer, though the heat was tempered with a seasonal haze which told of cooler autumn days waiting in the wings for their turn to perform.

The first sheaves were already beginning to appear, marching soldier-like across the field. To the casual observer it must appear idyllic, I thought, this unhurried gathering of the summer's bounty. And so it had seemed - to me, a mere visitor - when offered the chance to participate. The reality, of course, was hard, unrelenting slog and I soon joined the other workers in discarding my shirt, regretting for once the length of my hair, as curls clung, wet with perspiration, to the back of my neck.

As the morning drew to a close, the shout went up. "Time to eat lads!" And I went all too willingly.

The throng was gravitating towards a corner of the field and I duly followed. The farmer's wife had set up a trestle table which was groaning with a superb spread; all kinds of meat, crusty brown bread and cheese strong enough to make your eyes water. All to be eaten with homemade pickle and apples picked that morning from adjacent orchards. A veritable feast in fact, traditionally washed down with vast quantities of the local cider. It was strong stuff - despite its innocuous appearance - and after eating well I was soon pleasantly drowsy from the potent brew.

I lay back in the hay, snoozing quietly, with those of a like mind, though it was quickly apparent that others were disappearing for more earthy pursuits.

After a while, nature called and dragging myself, somewhat reluctantly, to my feet I made my way to a haystack some distance away. The far side of this was hidden from view with several tall sheaves stacked to one side.

As I made my unwary approach, my leg was suddenly grasped in an iron grip and I landed unceremoniously into the hay.

"What the...!" I yelled, taken completely off-guard.


He was about my age, darkly handsome with deep blue eyes - the kind inclined to make you dwell on secrets shared under cover of the darkest night.

"Why?" I asked stupidly. The cider had a lot to answer for.


I turned and peered warily around the sheaf. A man and a woman were coupling in the hay behind the stack. They seemed to be rapidly approaching the climax of their passion, his naked back-side on display as he thrust into her, their animal grunts and groans primitively shocking. My jaw fell open as I watched - appalled but at the same time utterly transfixed by their mating.

A snigger from beside me brought my head round sharply.

"Old Farmer Pott's cow, Clover, has got a better looking arse than that," he grumbled. "Still," he took another long lingering look. "Nice cock. Knows how to use it too. Bet he won't come inside her."

I think my face must have registered my astonishment at his words quite clearly. My eyes felt as though they would pop out of my head. "How the hell can you know that?" I asked.

"It's the verger's wife, Ethel...."

"And I presume I'm safe in assuming that the arse to rival Clover's does not belong to that revered gentleman?" I interrupted.

"Uh, sadly no," he admitted. "She'll have threatened him to within an inch of his life, same every year, you've got to admire that kind of control, eh? I keep hoping he'll misjudge and I'll be treated to the sight of her whacking him around the head. Watch, they're almost there."

He was right, they were. And right too, when, as their passion approached a crescendo, the man's cock slipped out and emptied its sticky load onto the woman's pale thighs.

I watched guiltily as they recovered, mopped up and vacated their trysting place, giggling conspiratorily.

What I failed to realise was that the fun was not yet over. I turned back to my accomplice to find that he had unbuttoned his flies. Hypnotized, I watched to see what he would do. It soon became obvious as he pulled out his cock, already stiff and hard, and began to pump with steady, practised strokes. Once again, I could hardly believe what I was witnessing. He was breathing raggedly now - obviously very aroused. Fluid wept onto a finger and he licked it clean; it was then I realised how hard and painful my own prick had become. I slipped my hand down the front of my trousers, grasping my heat and gasping quietly at the thrill which ran through me; watching him still as he milked himself determinedly. Suddenly he stiffened, shut his eyes tight and spurted into mid-air, groaning as each release racked his body.

I waited, I'm not sure why, perhaps I too wanted an audience, but he soon recovered and turned to regard me expectantly. Releasing my cock from my trousers, I too began to stroke and squeeze myself rapidly. It didn't take long. I was intensely aroused from watching this stranger perform the most private of acts in front of me and before long I too ejaculated a milky fountain into the air.

I slumped onto the hay and he reached over and ran a finger over the head of my cock, wiping the last drips of semen onto his finger and sucking it clean. His grin was very wide and dark eyes twinkled as he looked at me.

"Nice performance, good technique. I reckon you've been practising," he leered. "Same time, same place tomorrow?"

I opened my mouth to reply but he had already jumped up and swaggered off, bearing a definite air of the cat that got the cream. Which, of course, he had.

I observed him more closely the next day when it came time to eat. His plate was piled high - obviously a man with large appetites. He tucked in with relish and I found myself oddly pleased at this very human foible.

The cider, as before, quickly took effect as drowsy contentment once again settled itself upon me. But no snoozing today. The dark-haired man rose, looking pointedly at me and strolled off in the direction of the woods. I waited a minute or so and then followed, already growing hard within the constriction of my trousers.

A few minutes later I was grabbed by a very determined hand and pulled hastily to a quiet, shady spot, well away from prying eyes. He pushed me roughly up against a tree, grinning mischievously. Undoing my shirt he let his hands roam all over my chest, tweaking my nipples and provoking the kind of comments not made in polite company. By this time I was very hard indeed, the contours of my cock protruding provocatively behind taut material. His hand slid slowly in that direction and we both watched its progress until he looked up to meet my eyes. I observed a look of pure devilment lurking there and returned his grin, then gasped with surprise as his big hand pounced on my bulge and pressed hard. Taken by surprise again. Eventually it would be necessary to retaliate. But not today.

He took hold of my hand and led it towards his own groin. I squeezed and caressed - revelling in the excitement that flew through my veins. He was undoing my flies and groping inside before I knew it, and suddenly my heat was enclosed in his hand. He brought it out and seemed fascinated, stroking it with both hands and massaging the already leaking fluid onto the tip.

By this time I was on fire, my hands shaking as I tried to undo his trousers. Eventually I achieved my aim and he moved closer. It was a strange feeling drowning in those dark, dark pools, framed by the longest eyelashes I'd ever seen in my life.

He knelt and a thrill raced through me as I realised his intention. My cock, as usual, was two steps ahead of my brain. It nudged urgently at his mouth, desperate to be enclosed in a tunnel of soft, wet heat. He opened quickly, sucking me in, and I watched as my cock disappeared expertly down his throat. His tongue began exploring nooks and crannies, licking, stroking, soaking with saliva - arousing me beyond endurance. My climax was in sight. I clutched his head, entwining fingers in soft waves and fucked that orifice as other men do a willing woman. The result was inevitable and I rasped out a warning but he took no heed. My essence emptied into him, unstoppable and almost unbearable in its sweetness.

Soft and flaccid, my prick slipped out of his mouth and I sagged against him, needing a moment or two to recover my senses. He kissed it gently, stroking it. Looking up at me murmured, "It's worked hard," and bestowed upon me once again the gift of that beguiling smile. A more beautiful man I had not seen in a very long time. Classically dark and handsome but with something more behind those girl's eyelashes. Intelligence, wickedness - I wasn't sure, I just knew I had to know him better.

Recovered at last I joined him on the ground, kneeling. He took hold of my hand and led it towards his groin, the evidence of his excitement prominent and obvious. I applied appropriate pressure and he whimpered encouragement. I quickly set the captive free as he reached to push my trousers down, revealing my bare arse to the open air. He squeezed and kneaded my cheeks, leaning his head on my shoulder; it was obviously exciting him tremendously. I took hold of his cock and pumped hard. His vocal responses increased and I felt his finger at my entrance, touching, exploring. I sensed he was close to coming and as he teetered on the edge his finger entered me - causing me to gasp at the invasion - and as he fell into oblivion he pushed his finger again and again deep into my anus.

He collapsed, spent, against me. I looked down and saw that my limp cock was dripping with his semen. I put some onto my finger to taste and heard a soft chuckle in my ear. "Let you taste it first-hand next time, if you want."

"Next time?"

"Mmmm. Anytime actually. Rolling in the hay or frolicking in the woods with you is no hardship."

The wickedness was back in his eyes again. I was captivated.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

I felt him withdraw instantly.

"Does it matter?"

"Not necessarily, no. Just exchanging pleasantries. Thought it might be nice to know who's just stuck their finger up my arse. Insatiable curiosity has always been a problem with me," I quipped.

His eyes darkened. "And if I stick something else up there, will you still need to know my name, which school I went to and whether I know which knife and fork to use?"

"It's a cold-blooded, unemotional act otherwise, isn't it?" I questioned. Did he also have no curiosity concerning me?

He stared at me. "Probably. But sometimes that's all that's available and it's better than nothing."

His reply totally nonplussed me and I frowned at him. "Seems to me you want it that way."

"Do I? Well, sometimes you have to protect yourself."

"From what?"

He was standing up as I voiced the question and I could see he did not want to reply. Suddenly I was afraid I would never see him again.

"Tomorrow? Will I see you tomorrow?" The words tumbled over one another.

He had turned to go, but stopped and looked around at me. "What? For another cold-blooded encounter?"

I shrugged. "I could easily ask someone, you know?"


"Who you are."

"You could. But you're not going to, are you?"

I merely smiled enigmatically in reply, and he walked away.

I was waiting in a stack in an adjoining field the next day, having made it reasonably obvious where I was going after the lunchtime repast. At first I thought he wasn't coming and tried hard to tell myself I wasn't disappointed, and that, if he was with someone else, it didn't matter. And then he was there and I knew it did.

Leaning against the hay, he was a sight for sore eyes with his dark looks and the slightest hint of a pout upon his lips - the very epitome, in fact, of sultry beauty. With a body to match. He was stockier than me, broad shouldered and strong armed with firm, tight buttocks, fronted by a bulge at his groin fit to tempt a saint. And I was no saint. I lay with my back against the stack, chewing a straw and enjoying the view.

He came over and sat down, straddling me. "I really ought to keep right away from you," he declared.

"But you're not going to are you?" I grinned at him as a response leapt into his eyes. It seemed to me that he was equally as entranced by me, as I him. It might be my only ace to play so I tucked the knowledge away for a rainy day.

He removed the straw and leaned forward, his eyes fixed firmly on my lips. I was positive he intended to kiss me, but suddenly he seemed to think better of it and sat back again. Head on one side, he was looking at me strangely and as though they were magnetic, I could not drag my eyes away from his.

So absorbed was I that when I felt his hand on my crotch, I jumped in surprise. Smirking, he proceeded to press and squeeze expertly, and I was soon very aroused. I needed more.

"Inside. Handle me, touch it... please," I begged.

Ignoring my pleas, he continued to rub. I tried to push his hand away in order to release my cock, but he was having none of it.

"Please..." I pleaded.

"Tell me what you want?" His voice was silkily seductive.

"I don't care! Anything!" I was past caring.

"How about a cold-blooded, unemotional act?"

My fist, when it connected with his jaw, sent him sprawling into the loose hay. To this day I don't know who was more surprised, him or me. He lay stunned for a moment but recovery was quick and he climbed swiftly to his feet. He stood looking down at me for a second, his expression cold - unreadable. And then he leapt.

There was no doubt about it, he was a big man. He landed on me with the full force of his body and knocked the wind right out of me. I grunted loudly and lashed out instinctively, catching him across the side of the head. I have never seen so much anger in anyone's face. Hurt pride? I guessed he wasn't used to being floored by anyone, let alone by someone of much lighter build. Suddenly we were rolling over and over, our limbs entwined, eyes locked, mouths grimly set.

The encounter changed in nature without either of us realising. One minute it was an aggressive expression of total fury - the next a desperate, intense need. As if by magic my shirt was open and he was biting every inch of spare flesh, making me cry out in a frenzy. I tried to capture his lips with mine, abandoning the quest as his hand located and surrounded my cock. Like a demon possessed he moaned and whimpered in frustration as he fought to release his own prick, unable in his haste to co-ordinate his actions properly. There at last he rubbed heat against heat in a furious, all consuming race towards climax. Our mutual release, when it came, was vocal, hot and quite quite marvellous.

When I eventually surfaced, his head was resting on my shoulder, the look in his eyes blank as he absent-mindedly played in our combined juices pooling at my navel. After watching him for a few seconds I lifted my hand and brought it up to stroke his short, wavy hair. It was soft - intensely pleasurable - and I gloried in this small amount of contact he was allowing me. His eyes closed briefly as my fingers explored and he breathed deeply. It was not to last. Suddenly he seemed to snap back to reality and was on his feet, his face, once more, an emotionless mask.

He turned to go.

"Rumpelstiltskin," I ventured, more to myself than anyone else, but bringing my gaze to rest on his back, checking for his reaction. He only half turned, his eyes sliding briefly towards where I lay, the only other sign that he'd heard, a twitch of his lips. So. He was still there. Reachable, though barely. I grinned, pleased with myself. Being led a merry dance could be fun, but the fight had to be winnable before I would embark on such a voyage of discovery.

I sat drowsily under a tree the next day, well away from our usual place of work. Where I was situated the shaded woods met the long grass of a meadow, alive with butterflies and bees at work on the wild flowers of late summer. It was quiet, beautiful and secluded. If he wanted me, he'd have to find me. I drank noisily from a small flagon of cider, thirsty from a hard morning's work.

A twig snapped behind me, alerting me to his approach. I closed my eyes and waited for him to speak. He took a while and I wished I could see his expression.

Eventually. "Are you going to lie there all day pretending to be asleep?"

"'S nice, after a heavy meal and too much cider." I lifted the flagon again and purposely mistimed my aim. Some of it reached my mouth - the rest dribbled down my chin, ran down my neck and soaked into my already stained shirt.

He stared at me, his eyes wide in apparent disbelief. "How much of that have you had?"

I grinned at him inanely. "'Nuff. 'sgood. Wan'some?"

"You want to watch that stuff, you know, too much of it rots your guts!"

I glanced at him and saw, written plainly on his face, no small amount of concern. The fight was indeed a winnable one.

I climbed unsteadily to my feet and swayed towards him.

"You ready then?" I snorted, rubbing the back of my hand inelegantly across my nose. "Nice bit of frottage, eh? Turn 'round, wanna rub meself up against that nice tight arse of yours."

I winked at him lecherously and began to grope him. Not surprisingly he slapped my hand away.


"You're drunk. Go and sleep it off in the shade."

I gloried in my triumph. His disappointment was clear. He'd come here wanting me and found a drunk instead. I stopped acting and ran my hand up his thigh, cupping the bulge at his crotch and squeezing gently. His cock reacted at once and so did mine, filling my trousers and straining against the material. I moved closer until they touched and began rubbing them together, the sensation intoxicating.

Suddenly my face was gripped by a strong hand and I was forced to look him in the eye.

"What are you playing at?" he rasped.

I wrenched my head away from his unyielding grasp and penetrating eyes, slowly undoing his flies and thus revealing his large, stiff member.

"I said..." he trailed off, watching me as I reached for the flagon of cider. I sloshed some into my hand, held it poised over his erection and tipped, allowing the golden liquid to flow down over his prick, soaking his balls and staining his trousers. I smirked at his sharp intake of breath.

"You're not drunk. What the hell...?" he accused.

Not giving him a chance to continue, I dropped rapidly to my knees and began to lick enthusiastically.

"Mmm," I muttered, "cider-flavoured cock, must write to the women's magazines and recommend it for the benefit of those marriages that need the spark rekindled. Can't you just picture those nicely brought up gels..."

Even from my vantage point, I knew he was laughing. I opened my mouth and took him inside, hearing him mutter hoarsely, "Oh God, yes," as his cock slid into my mouth.

I gave the head some minute attention first, licking its soft velvet texture, tonguing its tiny entrance and sucking it, lollipop-like until incoherent little whimpers tumbled out of his mouth. I cupped his balls, squeezing rhythmically and he ran out of control, pumping into my mouth, his head thrown back and grunting with every thrust. Suddenly his need gave vent and his seed was pouring down my throat in rapid bursts. I swallowed and sucked, trying to keep up, until he was spent at last, sagging against me and giving up the struggle to stay on his feet. Another game to me, except - my own release had come unbidden and flooded my trousers. How very juvenile.

He lay in the long grass, dozing for a while. I sat, leaning against the tree, watching him sleep and wondering what key unlocked the secrets of this intriguing man. To all intents and purposes he was cold and emotionless, a man who desired sexual contact only on a casual basis. And yet, I knew it was not so. How? I've no idea. A feeling, something in his eyes; perhaps both.

I must have dozed briefly myself, because I woke to find him watching me. The moment was electric. Our eyes locked and an unspoken message seemed to pass between us.

It was him that broke the spell. "You play some odd games."

I merely smiled in reply. It was his turn to do some work, so I kept silent.

"Pretending to be drunk. What's that all about?" he persisted.

"Wanting to be anonymous. What's that all about?" I answered, countering his question with one of my own.

Another triumph. The very tiniest flicker of amusement flashed across his face. He got to his feet and stared down at me.

"See you tomorrow," I stated rather than asked..

"No," he replied, "we finish up today. Harvest Festival tomorrow. Give thanks and all that."

He scowled and I immediately wondered what lay behind it. I would be travelling home at the beginning of next week and hoped for some answers before leaving.

I watched him in the Public House that night. My companions - my uncle and a friend - were swapping tales of errant tractors and my attention was understandably wandering. My lover, occupying the other end of the bar with several cronies, appeared to be drinking heavily. I caught his eye several times but he made no sign of recognition, staring blankly back at me. It would have been so easy to ask my uncle who he was; I've no idea why I didn't. Perhaps it seemed that Rumpelstiltskin deserved one more night of anonymity.

The bell rang for last orders and we got up to leave. Glancing at him, propping up the bar, I could see he was fairly intoxicated; I hadn't counted but knew he had consumed a fair quantity of cider. I followed my uncle and his friend outside, but as we walked down the road I pretended to have left something behind and told him I would be in later. He appeared quite happy with this, perhaps assuming I had an assignation. I wondered how he would react if he knew what kind of assignation I had in mind.

Choosing a spot to wait was tricky. There were several routes he could take and I had no idea of his destination. In the event I took up position in the shadows of an old barn and hoped to be lucky.

I was.

I observed him closely as he walked alone up the lane, with the careful steps of the not quite fall-down drunk. As he approached the barn I reached out and pulled him into protection of the building. I pushed him up against the wall, placing an arm either side of him.

He grinned at me inanely. "'s you!"

"Yeah. 's me. We're going to have to stop meeting like this."

"Yeah." He smiled the smile of the befuddled and my heart melted.

"I wish you'd tell me what's wrong," I began.

"Wrong? Nothin's wrong! Been celebrating. Too drunk to fuck you tonight. Sorry." His head fell onto my shoulder and he giggled drunkenly into my ear. "Tell you what though. You," he continued, poking me in the chest, "can fuck me."

I sighed. It was an offer I would ordinarily have jumped at. "I prefer a sober arse, to be frank...."

"Ah. Well look, Frank... see it's not an offer I make very often... like to do the fucking rather than be fucked. Could be your only chance. Take it or leave it."

I stared into his eyes, wishing I could see his expression in the dark.

His voice was suddenly much quieter, tempting me. "You know you want to, or you wouldn't be here."

What was I doing here? Was he right? Had I waited to fuck him? I felt his hand at my groin.

"See. Stiff as a barge-pole, you need a bloody good fuck, my son. Com'on round the back."

He moved unsteadily off into the shadows. Why did I feel like I had lost control of this situation? I stood, hands on hips, contemplating my predicament and unsure of what to do, before striding belatedly after him. In for a penny.

Catching up with him I found him facing the wall, undoing his flies.

"No, look..." I began and stopped as he proceeded to relieve himself noisily against the side of the barn.

"Sorry. Had a skin-full tonight," he apologised, as he finished.

"Apparently. Look, this is not a good idea...."

He turned to me and grabbed me by the arm. His voice was so close to my ear I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. "Fuck me."

It was a command that brooked no argument. Feeling as though I had lost the power to resist I undid my trousers and brought out a very needy prick.

"See," he whispered, reaching out to stroke it and sending shivers up and down my spine. "It knows what it needs better than you. A nice tight hole to empty its load into. And coincidently I happen to have just the thing - got a real urge for cock up my arse tonight. So bloody do it."

He turned then and dropped his trousers, revealing the arse of my dreams. All common sense flew away at that moment. I gripped his buttocks hard, rubbing my shaft repeatedly against his cool skin, leaving snail-trails of weeping pre-come wherever it went. I parted his cheeks with my finger, finding his entrance and probing none too gently. Suddenly it was all too much. Too desperate to wait any longer I replaced finger with cock and slammed into him savagely, grunting animal-like in my lust. He was right; he had the hottest, tightest hole I could ever remember. I pumped again and again, his involuntary gasps spurring me on to use his body mercilessly as my thrusts increased in momentum. It ended all too soon. "Oh Christ, I'm coming!" spilled out of my mouth and into the chill air, and I emptied into him with such force that he cried out and I wondered, after, how I'd not split him in two.

"Not fair." Slumped over him in state of near collapse, his words brought me out of my stupor. Straightening up, my cock slipped out of him and I leaned an arm against the wall to steady myself. He was staring forlornly at his limp prick.

"Shouldn't have had so much cider then, should you? Ought to take your own advice," I told him.

"Bloody know-it-all. Hope you're not always so damn high and mighty?"

"What if I am? Hardly going to affect you is it? I'm going home next week."

The silence opened like a chasm and swallowed us both up.

"Best thing." He was suddenly busy restoring his clothes to some semblance of order.

"Oh? And why's that?"

His flies appeared to be defeating him so I moved forward to help. Brushing his hands away, I did them up, feeling oddly protective towards him.

"I said, why's that?" I persisted.

He was still silent; I looked up trying to fathom his expression but his face was in shadow. Only inches separated us and I realised that it was now or never. I leaned forward and took his lips with my own. His whole body stiffened. I grasped his shoulders and hung on but he remained motionless, allowing me to continue but giving no encouragement whatsoever.

Slowly I moved to put my arms around his neck and very gently ran my fingers through his hair. Simultaneously I opened my mouth and ran my tongue the entire length of his lips. A shudder racked his body and I was suddenly enfolded in his arms, but what shocked me the most was the tiniest of child-like whimpers that came from within when he opened his own mouth to allow me admittance. I wondered, in all honesty, whether he had ever allowed another human being to touch him in this way before.

We gave ourselves up then to the most glorious exploration of each other's mouths. A noisy, wet celebration of intimacy far above anything that we had so far indulged in and clinging to each other in the dark, for all the world like two doomed lovers.

He finished it abruptly, thrusting me from him with such ferocity that I almost lost my footing.

"Don't do that again!" he spat at me.

I sneered at him. "First kiss not to your liking, darlin'?"

He began to brush past me. "Get lost!"

"Next week do you? It'll be as though I never existed. Miss me will you, sweetheart?"

He strode on defiantly. "Wish I'd never met you."

I knew he meant it.

"Ray! My name is Ray!" I shouted after him - I knew it was the very last thing he wanted me to tell him. "Doyle. Remember me? I just stuck my cock up your arse!"

As he retreated I heard his last words. "Fuck you...."

"Yeah," I said to myself, "if I'm really lucky..." and smiled.

The Harvest Festival service on Sunday morning was long and tedious, the local vicar generously treating us to an extended sermon on the theme of reaping what one sows. The church was filled to capacity as we Ploughed the Fields and Scattered with the accustomed and required restraint, which only the English at worship can muster.

We congregated in the village hall afterwards to admire the produce on display, much of which would be distributed later to local hospitals and the elderly. I leaned against a wall, watching humanity on display. A gaggle of females gossiped in one corner, their spouses happily separated from them in another, while children careered around, fetching themselves clipped ears for misbehaving. The noise was astonishing.

My gaze wandered to where the vicar stood, beside his wife. She was pouring tea and appeared flustered as he spoke to her. I watched, curious, but unable to hear their conversation amongst the din.

"Odd couple." My uncle was suddenly beside me, balancing tea and ginger cake like the expert he was.

"Oh? Why?"

"Well, far be it for me to speak ill of a Reverend...."

"But you're going to anyway, I hope?" I grinned encouragement.

He smirked back. "If you insist. Well, he's one of these men, nice as pie to the world and his mother-in-law, the women of the parish worship him, Reverend Bodie this, Reverend Bodie that... sun shines out of his proverbial."

"But?" I encouraged.

"There's more than one sort of cruelty, you know. And to my mind, treating a woman like she's an idiot, constantly belittling her in front of people, is every bit as bad as hitting her. And then there's the son."


"Mmm. You never know what goes on behind closed doors do you? Just as well I sometimes think. Used to watch them together, though, on occasions. Seen him reduce that boy to tears with his tongue, always on about how he was useless, good-for-nothing, clumsy." My uncle shook his head, sadly. "No way to raise a lad. No wonder he's turned out like he has."

"Like what?"

"Oh, restless - never stays anywhere for any length of time. Not easy with people either, like he's expecting them to let him down. Seems to suspect your motives when you're kind to him. I wouldn't like to think what's been the cause of that. Anyway, always comes back for harvest, regular as clock-work. Works like a navvy too, work-shy he's not. Give him a job any day of the week, if I thought he'd stay. Goes for thee too nephew, by the by. Not getting any younger, a couple of reliable men about the place would make a big difference."

It's odd sometimes - how slow I can be, but gradually the fog was beginning to clear.

"Describe him."

"Oh, you must have seen him around, Raymond. 'Bout your age and height, darker and stockier than you though. Your aunt says he's got film-star looks. Gets a silly look on her face when she talks about him," he grinned. "Doubtless she's right, though I wouldn't profess to be any judge."

My aunt was, as usual, quite right.

"He's not here?" I asked.

"Out the back I expect. Keeps himself out of the way now he's old enough to please himself."

I nodded and making an excuse, left him to his tea and ginger cake.

I wandered through the door leading out of the main hall. A small kitchen lay beyond and a group of women fell abruptly silent as I poked my head around the door. I smiled self-consciously, apologised and made a rapid retreat.

Two further rooms merely revealed their use as storage places and I was about to mount the stairs, when the back-door opened suddenly and there he was in front of me. The son, I presumed.

He smiled, which, expecting a frosty reception, somewhat took me back.

"Good service?" he inquired.

"No. Used to have to sing that bloody harvest hymn at school. It was dirge then and it's a dirge now. What's wrong with Bringin' In The Sheaves, that's what I want to know!"

He snorted. "It's not to my father's taste and his taste is all important."

"So I hear."

He looked at me speculatively. "Been listening to gossip?"

"Of course." I hoisted my eyebrows skyward and he laughed. A great pity, I thought, that it was not something he did more often, it gave him the air of a ten-year-old street urchin.

I tapped him on the arm and motioned for him to follow me into one of the storage rooms, where we sat companionably on a rickety old table.

"Do you have a first name or do I have to carry on guessing? Let's see... Dick might be appropriate...."

"William," he interjected, eying me in mock disgust, "named after my father. I hate it, never use it."

"Hate the name or hate him?"

He didn't answer, didn't need to really.

"Well," I continued, "I've got a decision to make."

He frowned at me. "A decision?"

"Mmm, one of those 'coming to a cross-roads in your life' sort of quandaries."

I had his full attention now. His deep blue eyes seemed to bore right into me.

"See," I began, "I could stay here, my uncle needs help in the firm and we get along well, always have. And I'm not particularly attached to my life in the town, dead-end job et cetera. Much nicer here."


"But... I'm not sure if there's any point in me up-rooting myself. Need a strong incentive."

He looked away quickly and I knew he understood perfectly. I let the silence hang until he was ready. Timing was all important here.

Eventually he spoke. "I've got no employment, no home - living with them is out of the question. I'm moody, cynical and inclined to clam up when I don't want to discuss something. You'd regret ever having set eyes on me within a month, I'd be no good for you whatsoever."

"Oh now come on, I don't think you should concentrate solely on your good points!"

He grinned but added quietly. "I'm being serious, Ray."

It was the first time he had used my name, it sounded strange but somehow right.

"I know. Forget the employment, my uncle just said he'd take you on at the drop of a hat. And digs are two-a-penny. I'm an awkward bugger too, so we can fight like tom-cats and make it up in the nearest hay-stack, eh?" I nudged him and winked suggestively.

He remained silent. Time to plead. I'm not proud.

"Come on, Bodie. I'm not going to go home and just forget what it feels like to be inside you. 'Sides ... don't you want to experience the other side of that particularly enticing coin? Or is there someone else supplying that need where ever it is you've come from?"

"No. I tend not to let people get attached to me."

He was concentrating hard on picking at something on his jacket sleeve. Too hard. I silently cursed the fathers of this world who fuck up their sons, leaving fools like me to pick up the pieces.

"Casual encounters only then, is it?"

"Yeah. Well it was. Made the mistake of letting a limpet kiss me."

I hooted with laughter. "Oh Christ, it really was your first kiss, wasn't it petal?"

He looked away in embarrassment and I was instantly sorry. There are times I should be gagged to prevent damage to life and limb and this was one of them. He had the knack of making a person want to protect him from the horrors of the big, wide world. Odd that I'd not noticed this maternal streak in myself before.

"Look," I said, "there's no harm in trying is there? Anythin's got to be better than wandering from place to place, unloved and unwanted. I'm offering you some stability in your life. I might even love you if you'll let me."

"And when you want rid of me because I've driven you to distraction?"

"Planning to try are you? You'd better know that my limpet qualities are not confined to kissing." I returned his stare with an unwavering one of my own. He got the message. His face relaxed and a shy smile appeared. I leaned forward and placed a light kiss on his cheek, nuzzled the entrance to his ear with my nose and then replaced it with my tongue. I probed gently, exploring its contours and his breathing became less even. I stood up and caught the look of disappointment that flashed across his face.

"Missing me already?" I leered. "What's upstairs?"

"Uh, nothing much, a few empty rooms - a couple that are used for storage - Drama Group stuff, the Ladies Keep-Fit have got their new mattresses up there I think."

I looked pointedly at him. "Lets go and keep fit then shall we, I'm sure their mattresses must need checking to see if they're comfy."

He looked horrified. "We can't do that! What if someone catches us?"

I sauntered past, a look of pure lechery on my face. I waited at the foot of the stairs. Would he follow? Yes. I took them two at a time and he followed at a more sedate pace trying to hide his bemused smile - but not quite succeeding. I'd known it all along of course. The key to keeping this man would be to keep him constantly on his toes, wondering what on earth I would do next.

I waited for him once again at the top of the building. As he approached I groped at my groin crudely and muttered, "If you don't bloody hurry up I'm going to empty my load into my underpants."

A look of pure astonishment plastered itself onto his face. Suddenly I found myself almost hoisted off my feet and manhandled into a room full of PE equipment. Stopping only to wedge an old chair securely under the door handle, he turned to survey me and my silly grin. He came slowly forward, each step precise and measured. As I began to back away from him he pounced.

We landed in a heap on three gym mattresses stacked on top of each other. I need not have feared, it seemed... they were very comfy.

After that I lost track of which limb belonged to whom but noted with satisfaction that he had quickly become very proficient at kissing. My lips ached from his attentions, my neck wet from his tongue and sore from his biting. I didn't care. He wanted me so badly he could hardly bear it; his arousal so hard against my thigh that I was sure he would bruise me. I'm not sure at which stage our clothes came off or even when he mounted me, just that suddenly he was inside and my world was perfect. The assembled congregation, drinking their tea and eating their ginger cake downstairs, may well have heard his climax but I was the centre of his universe. It was me that squeezed his cock until he flooded my arse, me he clung to as my name spilled again and again from his mouth, and me that christened the keep-fit mattresses in a way the makers had doubtless never intended.

A long while later he spoke. "I feel peculiar."

"You felt fine to me," I smiled, stretching languorously.

A finger poked me in the midriff. "I don't mean that."

"What then?" I asked, bemused.

"Don't know. Odd. Different somehow."

I lifted my head off the mattress with some difficulty and stared down at the dark head resting on my shoulder. He let out a wistful sigh and I began to worry. Had I miscalculated?


"I can't.


Silence. Then... "It's inside. I feel... I don't know... different. Nothing's the same any more. I'm either euphoric or suicidal, my stomach's taken to doing leaping exercises and my prick - well that's got a mind of its own now and has taken to standing up and looking me in the eye whenever I think about you. I'm walking around the place grinning like a fool and people who are used to seeing my permanent scowl are wondering what the hell I'm up to. What's the matter with me?"

I lay back on the mattress once again, covering my face with my hand to hide my very big smile.

"Oi!" he persevered. "Come on, tell me, is this normal? Doesn't feel it. Mind you, it's not unpleasant exactly. Quite nice really as long as I can keep having you. To tell the truth I'm starting to live for having you, dreaming about it too - keep waking up in the night and needing to toss off."

He ran his finger dreamily over my cock, up across my stomach and played lazily in my chest hair. "So?" he persisted.

"So what?"

"Well it's obvious you know more about these things than me, Ray. I've kept myself insulated, you haven't."

Propping myself up on one elbow and smiling contentedly at him, I ran a finger down his turned-up nose and explored his soft lips. He opened and sucked gently, making me shudder. I took the finger away and replaced it with my mouth, kissing him slowly, exploring and snaking my tongue into the dark hole and out again, teasing. He murmured something unintelligible into my mouth.

"Mmmm?" I replied, my lips barely touching his. "Like it when I do that do you?"

"Yeah." He was barely able to speak.

"It's like your prick," I muttered, "got a mind of its own. Can't stay out of your mouth." I thrust in again, my tongue wet with saliva and felt him groan from the very depths of his being. We parted and he latched on to my neck, sucking and biting until I began to whimper. My hands were everywhere, touching, feeling, invading his private places.

Suddenly he tensed. "Need to come."


Again. I grasped his cock, gave it several firm strokes and he obligingly emptied warm fluid into my waiting hand. Needing release almost as urgently, I used the same hand to handle myself, lubricating my cock with his come. The sensation was intoxicating and I spurted onto his stomach with very little encouragement, whispering his name and other confessions made easier at the height of passion.

After a while his quiet voice woke me. "Did you mean that?"

I looked at him through half-open eyes. "Mean what?"

He hesitated. "Nothing. Doesn't matter."

Making a supreme effort I came properly awake. "Sorry, you're too bloody fantastic to make love to." I smiled and kissed the end of his nose. "Don't you know that?"

Huge, beautiful eyes met mine, peering into my very soul it seemed. "You said, 'Love you, Bodie' when you came. Do you mean it? I know things get said sometimes, when you're out of control, which aren't meant literally and I understand if that's what happened, it's just..."


"... that I love you too I think, and it would be nice, I suppose, if you felt the same but..." he stopped, looking at me.

"But what?"

"I'm willing to settle for whatever you can offer. Perhaps, in time, you might grow to feel the same way."

He looked distracted. "Wish I wasn't such a useless beggar, haven't really got a lot to offer in return."

I came close to tears then. Blinking them back and swallowing hard, I replied. "Listen, you! Don't ever let anyone tell you you're useless, do you hear? I'll bloody flatten anyone I hear say it and that includes that apology for a father you have, so help me. Might be worth rotting in hell just for the satisfaction, if the truth be known."

He'd propped himself up on one arm and was silently listening to my tirade, eyes wide with surprise. He stared down at me for a long moment before speaking. "You did mean it."



"No idea. Perhaps I can see the man you could be with a little loving, perhaps I like saving lost souls or perhaps I just think you're the most beautiful man I've ever set eyes on and want you all to myself, forever. Bit of all three I expect. But yes, I love you already and if I feel like this now, it can only deepen as the years pass."


"Mmmm. Lots of harvests." I wiggled my eyebrows up and down.

"And cider?"

"Rots your insides. You said so yourself."

"I did, didn't I?"

"I seem to recall so, yes. Right before I...."

"Did some very interesting things to me."


"We'll cope without the cider then."

"Unless I want to flavour a lollipop with it of course. Different then."

"Naturally. Did Rumpelstiltskin live happily ever after, do you remember?"

"Uh no, I think he got so angry he exploded."

"Well you would, wouldn't you - with a name like that?"

I nodded sagely. "Yeah."

-- THE END --

Originally published in Motet Opus 4 in B and D, Keynote Press, 2000

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