“Why don’t you and Clancy go fishing,” my dad said.
The five of us, Uncle Ted, Aunt Bessie, Clancy, dad and me were finishing our afternoon tea in the farmhouse kitchen after unloading the fourth load of hay for the day. The new corrugated iron shed was a quarter full of hay and that was all there was room for. The rest was taken up with the farm machinery. The few horses dad still kept were in the old split log barn, which had seen better days.
But dad said that horses would soon be a thing of the past and the old barn roof was too low for the machinery he had on order, but it would take the rest of the hay.
“Sure,” I replied, looking across the check tablecloth at Clancy. “Sure, Dad,” I added sourly.
James Bunning and his sister Mary had come by in the morning to ask me to a tennis party the coming Sunday, and my dad had said no, before I had a chance to say anything. “Sorry James. But Clancy is only here for the few weeks of the holidays and I need him for the hay cutting.”
It wasn’t true and I knew the real reason why I was being kept away from the Bunning’s house. And it rankled that he didn’t trust me. After all I was 19 now and going to university in Sydney, and I felt I was an adult. But I didn’t think to cross him. My brother and I had been brought up strictly and I knew what Rob’s death had meant to dad.
“Do you want to go to Chittaway Bay, or the mouth of the Creek?” I asked Clancy politely. I’d been home a week and though we had been working together I had still hardly spoken to Dad’s new help.
‘The creek,” Clancy replied, smiling across at me with his short dark blond hair, wide open face and big white teeth. He was no taller than me, and lean and wiry with strong hands. Not big hands, just good versatile working hands.
“What’s running?” I asked him to be polite.
He shrugged and smiled. “Reckon something will be,” he said, as uncle Ted shouted “I reckon the prawns might be coming down about now. So take the net with you.”
My aunt Bessie’s husband Ted had gone to the great war and come home hard of hearing.
At dawn the next morning we rode down to the creek, me on my father’s good horse and Clancy on Uncle Ted’s, and when we left the track to the farm I almost didn’t go off onto the narrow track that led to the creek. I looked up the main track that ran onto the road running to the Bunning’s farm. I would much rather have been going to sit out under the big Almond trees with Mary and James. Playing tennis and talking the way we used to when I was at school and we were all on holidays. But in the last year that had changed. And I could understand what my father felt, but I could still want things to be different and wish he would start treating me like an adult.
Clancy led the way to a shady patch of grass on the bank of the creek, “I used to come here with my father and Rob, my brother, in the old days,” I told him as we stopped.
“Hmm, with your Dad?” Clancy responded, looking up at me, “It was your Dad showed it to me, not long ago,” he said, smiling, and I vaguely wondered what had made Pete, my fathers last off-sider, leave. The young men all seemed to get on with dad and be treated like part of the family.
When my mother died trying to give dad another son, Bessie had arrived to keep house, along with Ted, to help around the farm. A few years after Dad had got himself his first paid help, and since then there had been a series of fit young men. Some staying a few months, some a couple of years. Ours was one of the bigger farming properties in the Gosford area.
We unpacked the fishing gear and Clancy waded in with the throw net and cast it out into deeper water, then standing still and watching it as it settled to the muddy bottom, before he drew it in rapidly and smoothly and a handful of golden prawns jumped inside the mesh.
“Hey, Ted was right,” he yelled, laughing as he brought the net ashore and we picked the spiky, kicking catch out and transferred them to the billy-can, which I had filled with water as soon as I knew the prawns were coming in.
We filled the billy to the top with prawns, then set up our rods and lay back to wait for whatever happened.
“Mind my rod,” I said to Clancy not long after, “I need to go.”
I wandered along to a nearby tree and unbuttoned my fly, and when I was finished and shaking I nearly jumped out of my skin, because until he spoke I hadn’t realised Clancy was standing beside me looking down. “Can I feel you?” Clancy asked, in such a quiet polite way that I was too amazed to stop him, as he reached out and wrapped his fingers around my dick and rubbed the pad of one over my knob.
“Yeuhhh,” I hissed, at the feel of his fingers on me.
Then I wasn’t facing the tree anymore and Clancy had knelt down and I was even more stunned as he opened his lips around my dick head, moving it into his mouth and closing his lips. Then he was sucking on me, and doing some tongue work.
If I hadn’t been in total shock at what was happening, I would have pushed him away and buttoned myself up, and told him I was going home. And said that if he ever tried anything like that again I’d tell my father, and he’d be out of a job.
But I didn’t do any of that. I just stood there gaping and looking down at his dark blond head bobbing up and down, as my cock filled out under his attentions. Then I heard a groan, my groan, and I was gripping his hair and jerking his head back and forth, faster and faster, and moaning. And I came, shocked to be filling his mouth with my cum.
It was 1938 and I had never even seen a woman naked, much less played around with one, and I had heard stories about what men sometimes did with each other, but that was in another world. Not my world. But that afternoon I came inside another person for the first time, and it was Clancy’s throat I filled with my seed. But in my head an image of Mary had swum around. Mary in her best dress at the Armistice Day picnic the year before.
Afterwards I was embarrassed. And wondered if I had made some sign that I had wanted what Clancy had given me. Then I looked down and he was looking up at me smiling. “You have a beautiful dick,” he said, still holding it.
“Hu, uh” I mumbled, stepping back and turning away and pushing myself back into my pants, buttoning up as my head swam. I was panting still and feeling . . . well better than when I stroked myself off. Which I still worried was a bad thing to do. But I’d never been able to stop doing it.
Now my head was spinning and as we packed up I occasionally glanced over at Clancy, wondering that he seemed normal still. That night in my bed I took my erect dick in my hand and thought of girls, but I couldn’t help remembering how good Clancy’s mouth had felt on me. And I was sure that what had happened was wrong, but I knew I wanted to feel it again. And in my mind it was Clancy’s mouth I was filling again, when I came.
A couple of days later we finished cutting the hay and Dad and uncle Ted stayed with the machinery while Clancy and I took the last wagon load of hay back to the farm alone. There was less than half a load and the two of us got it stacked in the old horse barn then washed up in the horse trough and sat down to rest and wait for Aunt Bessie to call us for lunch.
“Hey,” Clancy said, sitting up close to me, “Can I feel your dick again?”
And his hands were unbuttoning me before I could make myself say anything in reply, and I just lay my head back against the hay and looked up at the barn roof as he freed my already growing pole and wrapped his lips around it. I moved my hips instinctively. God he had good lips. Firm and soft and full. I moaned as I felt them slide down my stiffening shaft, and I grunted as he teased my knob with his tongue. “Oh, God,” I gasped as he took me right in and I moved my legs apart without even thinking of what I was doing. He had me throbbing and moaning when he whispered it.
“Would you like to put it inside me. Like with a girl?” he said, in his calm quiet voice.
I would have put it anywhere just then, and pulled his head down till he had me encased again, and giving a few pumps of my hips I drove myself in and out of that soft sucking mouth. Quickly giving him another load of my semen
But I wondered later, as I lay on my bed with my hand encasing my throbbing cock, how good it must be to put my dick inside a girl, or inside Clancy. I thought, “If his mouth is so good, then how much better it must be to have it in the right hole. The one God had meant for it. Or, or in another hole, similar.” And I had a thought that maybe if he offered again I’d ask Clancy what he meant.
The next evening was Friday night and as usual we all sat in the parlour and listened to Aunt Bessie play the piano. Dad sang a couple of Scottish songs and Clancy sang the latest version of Waltzing Matilda, before Bessie started playing her favourites, Mr Straus’s waltzes.
Dad was soon snoring, and Ted was doing his best to finish another bottle of beer so I wandered out onto the veranda for some fresh air, and in a few moments Clancy joined me. We stood in silence for a while, but with me heating up just having him standing there, and with that question on my mind.
“What you were saying . . .” I began hesitantly, but my dick wasn’t hesitating, it was already starting to move and get uncomfortable. “What you were saying about . . . um, girls,” I mumbled.
“Come over to the new barn,” he said, and wandered off in that direction.
I followed him. Already keyed up. Wanting to know what it was like to bury my manhood in someone else’s body. Not just a mouth, the real thing. And my hand went to my growing erection and eased it into a more comfortable position in my pants.
Inside the barn Clancy lit a hurricane lamp and hung it by the stack of hay where some bales had been pulled down and set up like a bench, and covered with a piece fo tarp. He sat down and smiled at me and opened his arms to welcome me to him, in a gesture I had seen him use several times now. And I stepped into his willing embrace, and helped him unbutton my pants and pulled my cock free, and pressed it to his lips.
I still thought of Mary, and am sure I was aroused by her, but I was also hungry for the reality of Clancy. Clancy with his soft obliging mouth. Convenient and wanting.
When I was throbbing and not all that far from shooting another load of my semen into his throat Clancy pushed me gently back.
“You wanna do this like I was a girl?” he asked, smiling up at me dreamily. And I saw that his hand was stroking at is pants, and that he had an erection of his own down there.
For some reason I had not given any thought to that. I had seen his long penis with tis loose foreskin, a couple of days before and he had asked me if I wanted to touch it. But I had been shocked at the idea, and he had put it away without seeming upset that I hadn’t done for him what he had done for me. And I had been relieved. It was something I was afraid of, of doing to him what he was doing to me. Selfish of me maybe. But natural.
Now I realised that he really liked what he was doing. And I felt maybe as if I didn’t have to feel so guilty, as he was also giving himself a good time.
Then he unbuttoned his fly, slipped off his braces, and his pants and underwear dropped to the floor and he stepped out of them. His dick was now standing up long and thin and with a red bulb on it that seemed to be waving at me, fascinating me. His body was covered in curly dark gold hair and his skin under his clothes was as white as milk, compared to his deeply tanned arms, face and neck.
“You can do me in the ass,” he said, turning around and leaning over the hay and resting his chest down on it. “Just put some spit on,” he added, reaching around his own spit covered fingers and pressing them in and around his hole, wetting it down and opening it some. He fingers seemed to enter it easily and I added some of my own spit, which he helped me rub in, and then I was pressing the head of my cock into him.
His entrance was tighter than I had thought. I had imagined I’d just slide on in with no effort, but for a moment it was not so easy, and I wondered if I was doing it right, but then I got in a small way and just sort of glided on in the rest. I moaned at the feel of his passage encasing and stroking my moving rod, as it went to it’s full depth inside him.
“Oh gee, Oh,” I moaned and sighed, as I plowed him, first slowly, getting my balance, then faster and faster, and harder. I got heated up, ready to burst and was pounding my hips against his milky white bum, gripping his hips and shooting my semen into him.
“Ouff,” I grunted, and, “Ouff,” and, “Ouff,” again, as I let loose of my load in three shots.
Then as I collapsed, panting, over his back I felt him moving rhythmically under me and realised he was stroking himself off, hearing the sigh and feeling him jerk as he came across the hay. I lay there a bit longer with my hands kneading his shoulders and running over his back and through his hair.
“Thanks,” I said shyly as I stood up and slipped the last way out of him.
Some juice oozed out of his gaping hole and I was fascinated by it, and touched it before he stood up and smiled at me, and came in and hugged me and whispered “That was terrific,” in my ear, squeezing me tight.
I went back to the house and into the lounge room, while Clancy went around the back to the kitchen. Inside I found that my father had already gone to bed and Bessie was playing some sad slow romantic piece, and Ted was lying back on the sofa and singing along unintelligibly. I said good night and made my way unsteadily up to my room, where I fell into bed and was asleep in moments.
That was only the first time I fucked Clancy, and after the second time I started to reach under him and help him stroke off his long thin cock in time with my fucking.
For the next few weeks Clancy sucked me off or I fucked him on most days, and then it was the end of January and the church picnic to celebrate the last weekend before school went back. We all got into my fathers car, Bessie, Ted, Clancy my father and me, and drove to Erina. And at last I saw Mary. It was the first time since she and James had come by our place in the first week I was home. With Bessie hovering I was able to go up and talk to her, and I saw quickly that there was something different about her. James was reserved, but Mary was gushing and laughing as if she had been missing me badly, and if I had seen her like that a few weeks earlier I might have been spellbound by her, as my father had feared, but I had changed too. My first nine months studying in Sydney, and the time since I had come home for summer, had changed me forever.
Now I found Mary – not as appealing as I always had. There was something rough about her that I hadn’t noticed before, something in the way she giggled and rolled her eyes, and leant over so I could get a glimpse down her dress that was alien to the young women my great Aunt had introduced me to in Sydney. And she talked of nothing but tennis parties and picnics I’d missed, and other people’s romances.
When Rob was alive there had been no plans for me and no one minded that I was taken with Mary. Her family had a good sized property and if I chose to stay on the farm that was fine. It was hoped that either Rob or I would go to Sydney and join my great uncle in the legal profession, he had his own practice, but it didn’t matter to my father who did. Then Rob had run the new tractor too fast up a small rise and it had flipped over. Now he was gone and I had a damaged leg and my father had decided that my future was in the law, not in the physically demanding work of the farm.
I could now see that Mary could never be the wife for me in my Sydney future, and not just because of what had happened while I had been away. I was polite and said I’d missed her, but as we talked I could see by the look in her eyes that she soon realised I was lying, and her mouth became a trembling line, and her eyes frightened and teary. And James stepped in and pushed me aside, and led her away. If she’d gone away to Sydney in secret earlier in the year, as Bessie had taken me aside and said when I first came home, I wondered whose baby it had been. James kept such a close eye on her, and her father would have forced the man to marry her, if he was from any half reasonable family.
I rejoined the adults and found the talk was all of the threat of Hitler and another war in Europe. And when we got home that night Ted was more than half drunk, and now and then shouting, “There is going to be another bloody war. Damn them to hell. All of them,” and sobbing.
And my father looked grim for some reason and disappeared up to his room early. Clancy was reading the newspaper on the kitchen table and I wandered out to the new barn, and lit the lamp, half hoping he would follow me. I wandered around the machinery for a few minutes then climbed the ladder up into the loft and lay down on the hay looking out of the tall narrow window in the end wall. Looking up at the clear night sky and considering how much I had moved away from the life and people of the place I had grown up.
Lights were on in the house, we had the electricity connected – but no close neighbours, so on hot nights the windows would be wide open, with no curtains drawn across them to interrupt the breeze. There was a good distance between me and the house but some movement in my father’s room drew my attention to it and I focused on it, brooding still on other things, before I realised that there were two white figures in there. With shock I recognised they were both pale bodied and naked, and focusing on them properly saw one reach out his arms in a welcoming gesture and go down on his knees before the other, reaching around his hips, and moving his face into his groin.
I was both mesmerised and horrified as I realised I was watching Clancy go down and suck on my father’s penis as he had sucked on mine. But even seeing them at a distance I knew the feel of Clansy’s soft mouth on my dick and couldn’t stop myself releasing my own cock from my pants and stroking it until I came, before watching Clancy mount my father and slide that long thin cock of his up my father’s ass. I confess I watched until they were done and Clancy had left the room and the light went out.
Fortunately I was going back to Sydney in a couple of days, and I managed to avoid being alone with Clancy. But I was embarrassed whenever I was with my father, and more so when I saw the two of them go off together to the new barn and not return till Bessie called them in for lunch.
I returned to Sydney with a hundred thoughts in my head. Why my father had never remarried. Why Clancy had satisfied me, and given himself to me so readily. Home was suddenly a mass of confusion, but within months the war had started and I was conveniently kept too busy in Sydney to make it back to the farm again for a couple of years.
When I did return it was to find little changed, Clancy had not been accepted into the army and had stayed on the farm, my father seemed content, and there was a new tractor in the new corrugated iron barn. I was determined not to accept any overtures that Clancy might make, but was disappointed not to have my resolve tested when he made none. He did nothing to suggest anything had ever happened between us, and sitting there at the dinner table with Bessie, Ted, Clancy and my father, I found it hard to believe that anything ever had.