Farm Stories: The Wheat Field
By James Allen – allenjecoupon@gmail.com
This is a homoerotic story featuring hands free masturbation. I would greatly appreciate your feedback and comments at the email address above. Also, there is an image that goes along with this story. I will provide a link to it upon request.
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Disclaimer
This is a work of original fiction, any similarity to other works of fiction or to real people (living or deceased) or real events is unintentional and purely coincidental.
Please enjoy!
Farm Stories: The Wheat Field
The summer I was nineteen, I found myself alone next to a field of wheat. Not just any wheat field—this one stood waist-high, a sea of gold rippling under a hot afternoon sun. Out of sight from anyone, I took off my clothes at the edge of the field, a thrill running through me. The sun was hot on my bare skin as I stepped into the field.
The ground was furrowed into neat rows. The wheat stalks were thick and stiff, a dense, miniature forest of golden stems. Straddling a row planted wheat, one foot on either side, I swung my hips side to side causing the scratchy plants to tickle my dangling penis and balls. It was strange feeling—rough and prickly yet strangely pleasurable. My penis began to swell at the sensation. With a wide-legged gait, I started to walk along the row.
With every step, the wheat heads, heavy with ripe grains and tipped with long, bristly tops, brushed and tickled my skin. The swaying heads bumped against my groin, the coarse bristles grazing scratchily at the now taut skin of my erect penis and beat lightly at my balls, which still swung loosely in the summer heat. My wide stance allowed the rough, scratchy wheat easy access to the sweep passed sensitive skin between my legs, behind my balls, and around my anus.
The constant brushing, the light scratching, was intensely stimulating. I walked further into the field. I was sweating, partly from the sun, but mostly from the heated arousal growing inside me. With each step, the feeling intensified. My penis reddened and rose even higher exposing its sensitive underside to the prickly stimulation.
Wanting to extend the experience, I stopped and stayed still for a few moments; my legs still spread wide over the row. I felt the sweat roll down my shoulders and back into the cleft between my butt cheeks. It ran down my chest and stomach into my pubic hair. It dripped from my balls into the dusty soil. I raised my hands behind my head. A light gust of air brought my own musky scent to my nose. The light breeze rustled through the wheat, and the bristly heads danced against me, a thousand tiny touches. My breath quickened.
Now swaying my hips, I focused on the sensations. I looked down at my naked, sweat-slick body and watched nature gently whip my sensitive flesh. The rough stems and wheat heads moved in a constant, arhythmic caress.
My excitement mounting, I rocked my hips faster and licked the salty sweat off my lips. Hands still behind my head, I turned my nose to my armpit, inhaling deeply of my own spicy odor. My balls pulled up tight, readying themselves. My cock strained, it pulsed in rhythm to my racing heartbeat, desperate for release. I panted through clenched teeth, an animal in rut. I let the wheat field take control.
A sudden, swirling wind caught the wheat causing it to bob and beat wildly against me. I gulped in a breath and held it, and then, it happened. A tightening in my core, a rush of vibration in my groin, and I came. Bucking my hips uncontrollably, my rigid penis leapt around wildly as internal contractions shot volleys of my cum into the golden field.
Afterwards, I stood bent over, hands on hips, panting like a sprinter who had just won a race. The breeze was cooling now, clearing my head and calming my body. I straightened and wiped the sweat from my eyes. I gave my still-tingling penis a squeeze, milking out a few more drops of semen, which I raised to my tongue and savored.
As I made my way back to where I had left my clothes, the wheat continued its scratchy caresses on my body. With smile, I pulled my shorts up my sweaty legs and carefully zipped them over my spent penis. Then I pulled my tee shirt over my matted hair and down my wet torso, catching another whiff of the odor from my underarms. I chuckled and knew I'd be back to the field before harvest time.