The Smell of Sex on the Farm  

ftwcumeater 50M
5 posts
4/2/2006 1:57 pm
The Smell of Sex on the Farm

The sense of smell, of course, is the strongest trigger of memory.

The smell of a stable is multi-layered. The horses themselves, the hay, the feed, leather and saddle oils. It was years since he'd let Tristan into his mind, yet there he was when Colin closed his eyes now.

He rubbed their mounts down with the same single-minded passion he directed at any task, never pausing in his bubbling, nearly unmanly monologue. Colin was never certain whether he was talking to himself, the horses, or Colin.

Once the horses were cared for, he'd turn his eyes, his entire attention, to Colin, enfold him with kisses, make him the centre of his own world.

Sometimes he'd take Colin right there in one of the stalls. Pulling his jeans down over his hips, he'd thrust his tongue into Colin's mouth while his hands worked Colin's pants down. They matched each other in height, their pelvises meeting in a grinding rotation while Tristan held him close, rubbing the underside of their cocks together till they fell against each other with twin yells, gasping for air.

When they had more time, Tristan would bring him to the loft and undress him, petting him with the long gentle strokes he used on the horses. He'd take his own clothes off and lie on a saddle blanket while Colin sucked him, kissed him, touched every corner of him. Sometimes he'd spread the blanket over a hay bale and take Colin from behind, biting the back of Colin's neck and holding his dick in a large, warm hand till he came.

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