The barn was heavy with heat, thick with hay and leather. Joe and Gene had been mucking stalls all morning, sweat clinging to their skin. Joe leaned on his pitchfork, stealing glances at the tall blond beside him.
Gene was every fantasy come to life—sun-bleached hair, eyes bluer than summer sky, fair skin flushed from work. His jeans fit like they were painted on, showing the swell of his ass and the bulge of his cock.
Then came the wink.
That wink was all Joe needed. Gene tipped his cap and drawled, “We’re all alone in here.”
Joe’s pitchfork hit the ground as Gene grabbed him, their mouths crashing together, tongues tangling. Joe’s belt came undone, his jeans shoved down to his boots.
“Turn around,” Gene ordered.
Joe braced against the stall wall as Gene knelt, spreading his cheeks and burying his tongue in his hole. Joe gasped, moaning as Gene licked and teased until his knees shook. Then came the snap of Gene’s belt, the rasp of his zipper, and the heavy weight of his cock pressing in.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Gene groaned, thrusting deep.
Joe moaned, pushing back. “Harder, Gene. Fuck me harder.”
Gene slammed into him, lips brushing his ear. “You love this cock, don’t you? Love me filling your sweet hole.”
“Yes—God yes,” Joe gasped, cock dripping.
“Say it,” Gene growled. “Say you love it when I split you open.”
“I love it. Love your cock, love you fucking me hard.”
Gene thrust faster, groaning in his ear. “That’s it. Moan for me. Let the whole barn hear who’s inside you.”
Their cries echoed, drowning out the creak of the barn door, masking the foreman’s boots on hay.
“I’m gonna paint that pretty ass with my cum,” Gene whispered, hips pounding. “Fill you up and fuck it back inside so it stays.”
Joe groaned, right on the edge—when suddenly Gene was ripped out of him. His cock erupted, ropes of cum streaking Joe’s ass, his back, one final spurt across the foreman’s pants.
“What the fuck are y’all doing?” the foreman thundered. “Never mind. I know what you’re doing.”
He snatched the razor strop from the wall, leather hissing. “You know what this is gonna get you. Bend over.”
They obeyed, pants tangled at their boots, asses bare. The first lash burned across Joe’s cheeks, making him yelp. Gene grunted as it bit into him.
Joe’s cock jerked, leaking precum. Each lash brought more. When the strap struck Gene, Joe’s dick pulsed harder, aching.
On the fourth stroke, Joe broke. His whole body bucked as he came—hard, spraying rope after rope against the wall, each lash forcing another spurt until only weak dribbles spilled.
Gene barely felt his own pain, transfixed by the sight of Joe climaxing under the strap.
The foreman barked between blows. “Boys, I don’t care if you fuck each other. Fuck whoever you want. Just not the animals. But this barn—” Crack. “This ain’t the place.”
At last the strap stilled. “Get dressed. Back to work.”
When he left, Gene knelt, kissing Joe’s raw welts, trailing up his back to the nape of his neck. “I’ll take care of this later.”
They finished their chores in silence. After, they stripped down, grabbed towels, and slipped into the communal showers. Empty. Alone.
Steam curled as water poured over them. Gene’s hand slid over Joe’s ass, down the welts still hot under the spray. Joe groaned, leaning into the touch. For a moment they kissed, water mingling with sweat, before rinsing clean.
Back in their room, Gene tugged Joe’s towel away. “Come here.” He pulled him down over his lap, swatting his sore ass once, tender but firm, before reaching for the lotion. He rubbed it in slowly, making Joe sigh. Then Joe smirked, flipped him over, and reached for the cream himself.
“Now it’s my turn.”
He massaged it across Gene’s welted cheeks, slow and deliberate, his rough hands surprisingly gentle. Then his finger pressed in, slipping past that tight rim.
Gene gasped, hips jerking. “Fuck—Joe…”
Joe worked him carefully, circling, teasing, dipping in deeper. He kept pulling back almost all the way before pushing in again, slow, relentless.
“God, you’re stretching me,” Gene panted, gripping the sheets.
Joe slid a second finger inside, twisting, scissoring, brushing that spot that made Gene cry out. Gene buried his face in the pillow, moaning shamelessly.
Joe grinned. “I love your hole, Gene. Love it clenching around me.”
“Jesus,” Gene gasped. “Feels so fucking good. Stretch me more, baby. Get me ready for that thick cock of yours.”
Joe pressed his fingers deeper, curling them until Gene’s whole body jolted. Precum leaked from Gene’s cock, smearing his stomach as he bucked helplessly against Joe’s hand.
Gene looked back, eyes glassy with lust. “Um… are you gonna—do I get more than that?”
Joe leaned down, lips brushing his ear. “I’ll give you what you want.”
He lined up, pushed in slow, sliding his cock deep. Gene’s breath hitched, eyes rolling back.
“Fuck—so thick,” he groaned, trembling as Joe filled him. “Split me open just right.”
Joe groaned too, buried to the hilt. “God, I love your hole. Love being inside you.”
He rocked into Gene, slow but steady, every thrust deliberate. He kissed the back of Gene’s neck, murmuring against his skin, as Gene moaned and trembled under him.
Gene gripped the sheets, panting. “Don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop.”
“I won’t,” Joe promised, thrusting deeper, gentler, savoring every squeeze. Their bodies moved together in rhythm until the tension broke—Gene groaning, spilling hot ropes across his stomach, Joe shuddering as he emptied inside him, pulse after pulse until he was drained.
They collapsed together, bodies shaking, sweat and cum smeared between them. Joe kissed the back of Gene’s neck, then rolled him over and claimed his mouth in one last desperate kiss.
Finally, Gene pulled Joe against him, cradling him close. Joe buried his face in Gene’s chest, sighing as exhaustion took over.
The sting of leather faded, replaced by warmth, and Joe drifted into sleep in Gene’s arms—sore, sated, and safe.
Next Up: Creekside Mischief
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