Seemed like Hunter had been avoiding me the past couple days. The bare minimum of conversation at the dinner table, but otherwise, he was out the door by dawn, the diesel rumble of his old Dodge waking me up in time to see it heading down the long dirt road out to the back 40. I don’t know what he did all day – well, I did, I guess, because a farm keeps you busy, and the work is never really done – but after dinner, he’d disappear again, out to the barn, staying out there until the deep dark settled down over our patch of the country, just the old yellow light over the barn door keeping it at bay.
I went out there the other night, following the soft strains of country music playing on the old radio on the workbench. Figured maybe he needed me to fill the sudden, loaded silence between us. He was like that – a quiet guy, not given to a whole lot of useless talk. Usually he was happy for me to take the lead, and tease him out of his taciturn shell. But the other night, he just shrugged, muttered a couple of half-grunts, half-words in reply to me, his broad back turned while he tinkered on a small motor. When I moved to stand by him, maybe see if I could lend a hand, he just wiped his greasy hands on a shop towel, tossed it on the bench, and stepped away, towards the doors and the dark beyond.
“I’ll see you later,” was all he said, and just like that, he was gone, disappeared into the night.
It sucked. And yeah, it hurt. We’d always been tight. Just a couple of big ol’ country boys, coming up out here on the flat plains, growing like the corn that had been reaching for the endless blue skies here for generations. Playing games of hide and seek out there in the rows, swimming in the shaded watering hole out past the corn field. Each other’s best friend, even if we scrapped and fought and bloodied each other’s noses from time to time.
But I was leaving soon. Heading to the city, to school and a whole world beyond that I hadn’t seen very much of, but was eager to explore, even as I felt a kind of wistfulness about leaving. And especially about leaving Hunter. He was taking classes down at the ag school down in Pembroke City, not quite an hour away, commuting back and forth in that big old grumbling Ram of his. That meant I was the first one to really leave the nest, and I know it scared the folks, but I could tell they were kind of excited for me, too. They were doing their best. But Hunter wasn’t doing anything at all, nothing but retreating into his shell. Cutting himself off from me, putting some space between us before I put some real distance down.
“It’s just his way,” Mom said. “You know your brother – he’s as bullheaded as your father is. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have something to say – it’s just easier for him not to. He’ll come around, you’ll see. You’ve just got to let him do it in his own time.”
I hoped he did, but time was running out. I wanted to tell him I was gonna miss him, but that I’d be back before long too. But I knew better than to push the issue with him. In the meantime, I tried to focus ahead, on what came next, and leave space for him to pull his head out of his ass and get back to being my big brother again. Close, tight, like we’d always been.
Standing here looking at the corn wasn’t helping much, though. The way the big green leaves whispered in the breeze, the stalks swaying gently, the ripe, rich green perfume – I’d grown up with all of that. Me and Hunter both had. A lot of memories out there. The feel of cornsilk on your fingers. The rich dark soil under your boots. Chasing critters through the rows, then turning tail and running when you came across a snake, your heart pounding in your chest, voices shouting with a mix of fear and excitement. Out there with your best friend in a sea of seemingly endless towering green.
Out there hiding, at first from each other, and then from the rest of the world. Coming across Hunter when he was a strapping, newly minted teenager, his jeans undone and pushed down, his cock hard in his fist, staring down at himself with something like awe as he stroked away. Watching him quietly, my own young cock hard in my jeans, just as awed as him by the sight. Following him down there when he’d sneak into the tall rows to take care of himself, quietly mimicking him with my own hard dick in my hand, until the day I stepped the wrong way and made a sudden rustle, scaring us both. His face all flushed and fearful, and then the look he fixed me with when he saw the flesh in my fist. Flesh like his. Big and hard and tingling.
Shooting my first cum with my brother by my side out there in the corn, watching his thicker, stronger seed spurting into the fertile dirt over top of mine. His forearm squeezing round my waist in the aftermath of that first quaking explosion, holding me up, holding me close. The scent of his sweat mixing with the mineral tang of our young cum, and the rich green smell of the plants growing all tall around us.
The first press of Hunter’s lips to mine, not so long after that first cum together, his strong football-player’s forearm suddenly curling me into his bigger body, our hands finding each other’s cocks as our lips sought each other out, and just going with it. Going with all of it, more and more as we grew up and explored in the tall corn, leaving behind the old games and discovering new ones together.
Hunter’s big, hard-muscled, naked body pressing up to mine as we kneeled together on an old blanket he’d scored from the barn, and laid down in the dirt. The throb of his cock in the cleft of my ass as he kissed the sweat-salty skin of my neck, and murmured sweetly to me in his husky, manly voice. The careful way he stroked Vaseline into me, and then stroked himself into me, so big and hard and new. How my grunts of effort and strain turned to moans of pleasure, joined by his as we rocked together, the slap-slap-slap of his hips against my ass as he fucked a load into me. The way he still throbbed inside me afterwards, as he kissed my neck, curled his strong, tanned young forearm around my body, and stroked the load out of my straining cock.
Hard not to think of all that now, as I gazed on the tall green rows, my cock hard in my jeans, trying to store as much of it up as I could in my memory for the long semester ahead in the city. I wondered if I’d come back here, for good. Do the expected thing, keep the farm in the family, meet some girl and make a family with her, and stare out every day at the cornfields, remembering when I was happiest. Wondered if Hunter saw the same kind of future ahead of him. Some girl he didn’t really love, but knew he had to settle for. Tending the farm, and the corn, and his memories. Wondered if he’d think of me when the leaves would rustle and the cornstalks would sway. Wondered if he’d go out there and touch the fine golden silk of the corn, and think of my hair, the way I thought of his. Fingers running through fine golden silk, then a handsome, soft-eyed face leaning in towards…
“Jesus fuck!” I yelled out, startled out of my daydreams by the slide of forearms around my waist from behind, just about making me jump right out of my damn boots. I twisted around in the strong grip of the embrace, and there Hunter was. His white cowboy hat shaded his blue eyes, but I could see the amusement in them, and the traces of it touching his lips as they curled up a little in a smile.
“Scare ya, little fucker?” he said.
“Fuckin’ asshole,” I scowled, squirming loose from his grip. But I didn’t pull too far away, because there’d been too much of that between him and me these past few days. And besides, with the highlight reel of my memories playing out in my head, his closeness, his scent – it was just the right accompaniment. Memories made flesh.
“Hey,” he said, in that deep but soft voice of his, his hands moving to my hips, tugging me back. A moment of hesitation, and then those thickly corded, tanned forearms sliding round my waist again. Squeezing gently, as he hugged me to his big chest.
“I’m sorry, Dalt,” he said after a long moment, the two of us staring out at the corn, my heart thumping in my chest still, only for different reasons now. That old slow-spreading warmth tickling across my midsection, as I let myself relax a little into him.
“I know, bro,” I said quietly. “It’s OK.”
“It ain’t,” he said, and his voice was all husky now, full of all the motions and stuff he tried never to show on his handsome face. “I’ve been an asshole to ya, little buddy. Wastin’ time.”
I put my hand on his thick forearm and squeezed it. After another long moment, he reached up to pluck my hat off my head, and instinctively I leaned back into him more, resting my head on his broad shoulder. I was nearly as tall as him now, but somehow we fit together like that. I felt his warm breath gust over the side of my neck in a quiet sigh, the sound of comfort he always made when we were close. Then the soft press of his lips to the crook of my neck and shoulder. I could feel the slow, rising press of his cock in his jeans, up against the curve of my ass, and that set mine to rising all over again too.
“You know me,” he murmured. “Don’t know what to say, half the time. How to say it. Not like you. Guess that’s why you’re goin’ away.”
“Just for awhile, Hunt,” I said. “I’ll be back for the holidays.”
“Then gone again,” he said quietly. “And then after all that, goin’ away and comin’ home and goin’ away again… what happens then, little bro?”
“I don’t know, man,” I said, truthfully, because what 18-year-old can see that far ahead in his life? I’d been asking myself the same questions ever since the acceptance letter came in the mail. I could see the next four years or so, but once that was done and I had my degree in hand – well, I guess we’d see when we got there. It was the only answer I knew, but I kept it to myself, because it wouldn’t do either of us any good right now.
A few long minutes passed, quiet but for our breathing and the sound of the breeze rustling the corn. Hunt’s lips grazed the skin of my neck real softly, the ghost of a kiss at that point just behind my jaw that always made me all shivery inside. I pressed my ass back a little into the big bulge in his jeans, and felt as much as heard him grunt, deep and low in his chest.
“Back for the holidays, huh?” he said quietly. “Corn’ll be done by then. Long gone.”
“I know,” I sighed, because I’d grown to hate the sight of the rye and soybeans taking the corn’s place in the fall and winter, all low and stunted-looking.
“Guess we should make the most of it while we can then, huh little bro?” Hunt said, loosening his forearms from around my waist. I turned to look at him, and god damn, he was fine. So fine, in his old, dirty, well-worn jeans, all tight on the thickness of his ass and the long bulges of his quads. That old white International Harvester shirt he’d won at the fair years back, soft with all the washing since and fitted to his bigger, thicker muscles like a second skin now. Most of all, that face of his, solid and square strong, little glints of golden Sunday stubble on it. I watched him tug his hat off his head, and then slowly tug the T-shirt up his muscled torso. He’d always been built, the strong genes we’d inherited from Dad, hardened up with farm work and football over the years. I’d always loved the flex of his smooth-skinned muscles, loved the feel of them as my hands roamed over his skin while he gazed down deep into my eyes and slow-fucked me with his thick, uncut cock.
I was dry-mouthed and hard as fuck now, as he tucked the old T-shirt in the back of his jeans like a tail, set his hat back on his head, and looked at me. That old look I knew so well, quiet and direct and subtle, but hungry.
“C’mon, little bro,” he said, his voice all husky again, his hand reaching out for mine. “Let’s go enjoy it while we can, huh?”
Sounds weird to say it, but the feeling of the corn, being in the corn, was erotic all on its own. The leaves brushing over my skin, the soft rustling sounds, the scent of the soil and the plants, and beneath that, Hunter’s sweat. The high, thick mounds of his ass shifting in his jeans as he led us deeper into it, his hand reaching back to hold mine lightly, taking me with him. Taking us deeper, where we liked to be best. I was almost entranced by it all, by the sight of a trickle of sweat slowly coursing down the back of his thick neck from the base of his blond hair, down the shifting muscles of his tanned, bare back, heading for the waistband of his Hanes. But then I saw a glimpse of color beyond him, a flash of red and white.
“Dude, what…” I said as we got closer to it, but he just turned and smiled at me and led me on towards it, deeper into the corn.
I couldn’t help but grin at the sight of it, one of Mom’s old picnic blankets, red and white checks spread out on the ground between the rows of corn. We hadn’t used it for picnicking for years, but me and Hunt had used it plenty of times. Spreading it out over the scratchy hay bales in the barn to protect our naked skin, laying it out on the damp grass by the swimming hole, covering the sun-heated metal and dirt of Hunt’s old truck’s bed so we could spread out naked together, then come together.
“Pretty fuckin’ sure of yourself, huh bro,” I chuckled as we reached the blanket. Hunt just smiled at me, tilting his hat back on his handsome head, then pushing the brim of mine back. I opened my mouth to say something else, but he just shook his head.
“Shhh, little dude,” he said, and then he was leaning into me, head inclined, and our lips were connecting, all soft and warm and moist, and nothing else mattered anymore. All I cared about was the insistent probing of his tongue as it breached my parting lips and slid inside of my mouth. All I cared about was meeting it with my own, wrapping my arms around him and pulling us closer together as I kissed my brother back, deep and long and slow, like we’d both learned we loved best.
The soft, wet smack of our lips, the sounds of our panting breath, our moans, joined the quiet swell of noise all around us – the breeze rustling the tall corn, warm and fragrant with the richness of the earth as it grazed over our skin. Hunt plucked our hats off our heads and dropped them down onto the blanket, and I automatically raised my arms for him to tug my old T-shirt up and off of me. His hands were warm and work-roughened on my skin, just as smooth and hard-muscled as his was, big hands caressing my muscles slowly, up and down, like he was committing the feel of me to memory. I did the same to him, knowing at some point in a couple months, I’d be laying in a dorm-room single bed, touching myself, and remembering the feel of him. Remembering this moment right here with him now.
We kept on kissing as we fumbled with each other’s belts, growing hungrier by the second as we yanked and grappled and tugged on each other until our belts clanked free, then hurriedly pulled on buttons and zippers until we got one another’s jeans open. Then Hunt’s big hands were inside my jeans, sliding over the fabric of my boxer briefs, palm grazing over the throbbing mass of my cock, on its way over my hip to cup and squeeze the firm muscles of my ass, just like I was doing to him. Usually we fooled around at least once pretty much every day, so these past few days of not being with each other had made us both hungry and eager, even more than usual. Hunt’s muscular ass flexed and shifted in my hands as he kicked off his boots, spurring me to do the same, before he moved us to stand on the blanket. We kept up our hungry, devouring kiss as we pushed and tugged on each others’ jeans, until all we had on were socks and our hard-tented boxer briefs, moaning into each other as we groped and squeezed and kissed and grunted our hungry fraternal lust for each other.
I was the first to drop to my knees, feeling the soil shift under the blanket beneath me as I pulled Hunt’s Hanes down, freeing his thick, hard, uncut cock with a lusty little grunt. I could smell him already, the heat of a big, healthy, hard-working young man made into sweat on his flesh. I leaned in, planted my nose into his thick blond bush, and inhaled deeply, storing more away for the memory banks for the long months to come. His big cock grazed the side of my neck, my cheek, leaving a trail of his precum on my skin before I took hold of him in my fist. I looked up at him, almost completely naked, towering over me, surrounded by the green of the corn, backlit by the cloudless blue summer sky. He had this look on his face, a softness to his handsome young farmer’s features, that I’d never seen him show anybody else. Just me. My heart throbbed with love for my big brother, harder than it ever had. I hoped he saw that on my face, as I pressed my lips to the salty, moist flesh of his cocktip. His fingers curled into my hair, his mouth hanging open with lust, and then I opened up wider and slowly swallowed him down.
“Aw fuck, Daltie,” he moaned, and I murmured back to him as I worked my way down the throbbing, veiny length of his thick brother cock. He’d never forced me to do this – I’d always wanted to, from the first time I’d stumbled upon him out here, stroking himself all alone. God knows, he’d repaid the favor, many times over, the two of us getting better at it, practicing on each other eagerly, getting to know the tastes and scents and feel of each other’s big young dicks very well over the past few years. I knew how to work my tongue around him, how to handle his big, blond-haired nuts, how to stroke my finger along the fur-lined stretch of skin between his hefty sac and the tight, throbbing clutch of his hole. How to tease him right up to the brink, to make him flow his precum like sap over my tongue. How to make the big muscles of his thighs quiver and flex with the effort of holding himself back from the brink.
I gave him my best, since there wouldn’t be many more times to take him there before I left, and within minutes, he was riding the edge, his big hands all sweaty as they cupped the sides of my head, guiding me up and down as I slobbered and slurped and sucked noisily, wetly on his big farmboy piece.
“Fuck, gotta stop, bro,” he panted, taking firmer hold of my head and backing me off of him. Long strands of my thick spit connected my lips to the angry, red-tipped head of his cock, breaking when he bent over at the waist, laying long and wet down my chin as he took my face in his hands and kissed me, wet and sloppy, tasting his cock and his pre in my spit.
“Get naked,” he said, dropping to his knees as I hustled upright, my cock tenting my boxer briefs obscenely as he stared at it with a half-grin. A fond kind of smile, but hungry too, as I shucked my shorts and let my own big young dick free. He wrapped his warm paw around it, and then his lips, his tongue lashing the head, tasting my own salty musk with a happy little grunt, and then working his way down. All I could do was grunt and gasp and moan, all but naked in the tall corn, my big brother taking me down to the root, deeper than I think he’d ever gone before, working down until his nose was buried in my bush and my cock was pushing hard at the back of his throat. He coughed and choked a little, backed up off it to get some air, and then swooped all the way back down, humming as he went, making me go up on my toes and moan as his throat opened up and took every last inch of me.
We couldn’t keep that up long, either of us, but damn, it was one hell of a ride for as long as it lasted. Hunter was all red-faced, his eyes streaming tears of effort, his lips sloppy with spit and precum as he came up off of me, catching his breath, jacking me slowly with his fist. He spat a thick wad of saliva onto the angry red tip of my teen cock and proceeded to work it into my flesh with his slick, sliding fist, grinning up at me with a kind of cocky pride.
“Dude… Hunt… fuck,” I gasped, staring at him with awe.
“I’ll get better at it, bro,” he said. “Give you a reason to come home, yeah?”
“I don’t need a reason, bro,” I said, dropping back to my knees to kiss him, long and deep. We traded each other’s cock tastes back and forth on our tongues and in our spit, hands sinking into each other’s hair, cocks pushing slickly together as we ground our hips against each other. Hunt nudged us over onto our sides, sprawling out on the old picnic blanket, limbs tangling together like our tongues were, and we took it deep again, all but naked and completely lost in each other in the high corn.
Eventually Hunt rolled me onto my back, reaching down to yank the socks off the both of us, making us completely naked now. Somehow that felt right. I don’t know that we’d ever been totally bareass here in the corn – the barn, sure, and the swimming hole and in one or the other of our bedrooms when the folks weren’t around. But never out here. It made all of this that much more intense and special. I watched my handsome big brother slide up my body, a big smile on his face, and fuck, I had missed him so much, these past few days. I knew these next few months, on my own up at school, were going to be tough. But having this time with him now, this moment, would give me something to hold onto. Something to tide me over until we came back together again.
I spread my thighs wide, opened myself up to him, and grunted happily at the warm, sweaty weight of his body against mine as we went back to kissing and slowly humping against each other. I reached down between us with one hand, the other squeezing his hip, and took hold of his big, sticky cock, pointing it down until the tip rubbed and oozed against my taint. The way it pushed at the skin there made me throb inside, made me suck harder on his thick, wet tongue, made me want him in me more than ever. I pushed his thick cock down a little more, tilting my hips up, grunting when the head of him grazed over the tight ring of muscle down there. Dalt grunted into my mouth, nudged gently but firmly at my ring, but then he pulled back, disentangling his tongue from mine.
“Nah, dude,” he said, grinning at my confused, horny frown. “Later, for sure. Big-time, you better fuckin’ believe it, kid.”
He slipped his thick arms around my torso, wriggled his hips so his cock slid up against mine, and ground against me as he looked me deep in the eyes.
“Wanna fuck you, Daltie,” he murmured. “But I want you to fuck me first. Now.”
“Shittttt,” I murmured, because I don’t know why, we’d just kind of settled into a thing where he was the one who fucked me. Not that we didn’t ever do it the other way round, but he was just so damn good at fucking, and I knew he liked it better than riding my cock. The few times we’d tried him taking me like that, he hadn’t seemed to enjoy it all that much, and as fucking intense as it was to get my dick up inside my studly big bro, if he wasn’t enjoying it, then I wasn’t either.
“Just seems fair, bro,” he murmured. “And I want to. Been thinkin’ about it since the last time. How it was starting to feel good. Been, uh… playin’ with myself down there. Thinking of your cock, little bro.”
“Fuck, bro,” I halfway-gasped. “You sure? For real?”
Hunt nodded, grinning, reaching between us to take hold of my cock and stroke it, slow and intent. Making me seep precum into his fist. Making me slick for him.
“Fuck yeah, for real, kid,” he said, all husky and sexy as fuck, and we kissed some more.
I guess he really meant it, because he had a little tube of Vaseline in his jeans pocket, the kind you use for chapped lips. It was one hell of a trip, smearing the slick stuff around the inside of his hole, as he lay back on the blanket and held his thick thighs up and spread for me. I made sure to really take my time with it, like I’d seen and read about in porn, like he’d done for me every time after our first or second time doing that with each other. Found that spot just inside of him that he liked having stroked while I sucked his cock, and focused in on it like he did to mine. Got him squirming and moaning and bucking his ass on my fingers – two, then three, because I was hung like he was. A big young farmboy dick, maybe harder than it had ever been, as I lined it up to his thoroughly greased hole and looked down at him. Throbbing against him, as he pulsed right back at me.
“You ready, bro?” I murmured to him, and he smiled and nodded, and I started to push my way inside of him.
“Fuckkkkkk,” he hissed, his face all scrunched up, as I gave him the first few inches, slow and steady. He was so hot and tight around me, I was already fighting the urge not to give him a few quick strokes and then blast my load inside of him. I wanted to do right by him, make him feel as good as he’d been making me feel, ever since he helped me shoot my first load out here in the corn all those summers ago. So I gritted my teeth, made myself calm down, and slowly but steadily, I gave my big bro every inch of my big young dick.
It took Hunter a few minutes to get comfortable with it, me watching his face intently, but eventually he nodded at me, and even started to smile a little. I could tell he was manning up to take this, but I could tell it was starting to feel a little good to him too. Good to be full of your brother’s cock. I knew that well, and I was determined to show him how good it could be.
We worked our way up to a slow rhythm, me pulling back, then sliding back inside of him, inch by inch at first, getting deeper and deeper with each slow stroke. I was on the verge pretty much the whole time, but I was liking the challenge of riding that edge, holding my load back, fucking like a man does. Exercising self-control. Working with him. Watching him closely. Looking for the signs, the permission to take it up a notch. I called up the years of watching his face, feeling his body, feeling his cock inside of me, instructing me on the right way to fuck him. I watched his cock, which had softened to half its impressive length when I first went up inside of him, slowly, steadily harden up again, stretching up to his bellybutton, all shiny and thick and firm. That was my cue to fuck him deeper, fuck the full length of my young cock into him, to plant my hands more firmly either side of his broad shoulders and really fuck my big brother, the way he loved to fuck me.
“Fuck, Daltie, yeah, shit,” he moaned, as the slap of my hips against him started to echo in the air around us. He wrapped his strong thighs round me and reached up to squeeze the bulging muscles of my arms, all flush-faced and blue-eyed, spurring me on even deeper. I could feel the slick of sweat on my skin, matching the one gleaming on his. I could feel the fire being stoked in my belly, in my thighs, in my balls and my cock. I swore I could feel the slow, heavy churn of my cum in my balls, building and boiling for him.
“Fuck I love you, bro,” I moaned, getting all swept up in the heat of everything, in the depth of my feelings for him, here in our special, secret place. Hunt nodded back at me, clutching my biceps a little tighter.
“Love ya too, little bro,” he half-panted. “Remember that. Remember us.”
“Shit, don’t you ever think I’d forget, bro,” I said, and then he was curling up to meet my lips, and we were kissing, hungry and sloppy and lusty, as I set to fucking him even harder and deeper.
There’s always a point of no return, the place you get to where you’re nothing but drive and sweat and heat, a slave to your cock and the load building inside of it, and we got there much quicker than I thought we would. Maybe it was the corn, all the memories and the intense things we’d shared out here; maybe it was the knowledge that I was becoming a man now, a man in my own right; maybe it was the way my big brother’s mouth was hanging open, his eyes all unfocused, his eyebrows arched, spilling out a series of low moans and grunts and gasps. Whatever, we were there seemingly in moments, Hunt’s hand a blur on the thickness of his cock as he stared up at me with a mix of awe and lust and surprise. My cock felt so full of cum, I thought I might cum all day, when I got there. I’d never felt this intense, this hot, this alive before.
“Gonna cum, Daltie, shittttttt,” Hunt gasped, and then his handsome face turned into the O-face I knew so well, and just like that, his hot, thick cum was squirting out of his big, angry dick, streaking white across the sweaty flex of his stomach and chest, a choked, grunting wail pouring out of his mouth.
“Fuck Hunt, me too,” I moaned, and just saying the words made it happen. I felt all my muscles clench up, my ass straining and flexing hard, as I buried the length of my cock inside his tight, milking depths, and let my load fire off inside of him.
The two of us grunted and gasped and clutched and twitched, moaning as we unloaded together, for each other. And then, once the sounds of our panting, moaning orgasms had died down, there was just the sounds of the corn, the gentle rustle of the leaves, the whisper of the breeze through the rows, the click and chirp of insects as me and Hunter sank down onto the blanket beside each other.
Hunt slipped his arm under my sweaty neck and tugged me close to his big, sweaty body, all slick with his cum. I rolled onto my side, pressed myself against him, sliding my thigh over his, and we found our way naturally into another kiss. Slow and deep, and sweeter this time, as we came down from the rush and the heat together. No rush to be anywhere. Here in the corn, we were in our own space, our own time, our own world, and that suited the both of us just fine.
“Fucking great job, little dude,” Hunt said when we finally took a break, mussing my sweaty blond hair, before trailing his thick fingers through it. It wasn’t real long, but it was thick, and it felt real damn fine to me. I played my hand over his pec, feeling the thump of his heart beating beneath it, strong and regular. He leaned up and pecked my lips, quick and soft, grinning again when he pulled back.
“Still gonna fuck you though, kid,” he said. “Give you something to remember me by.”
“Quit it with that shit, Hunt,” I said, squeezing the thick muscle of his pec. “You think I’d ever forget all this… us… here?”
I gestured around us, at the corn, at the big young nakedness of our bodies, all sprawled out together, gleaming with the sheen of our sex.
“This is our place, bro,” I said. “Just for us. Whether I’m here or not, I”ll always come back to it. Back to us.”
Hunt’s eyes were deep with all the things he never really knew how to say. But I understood him, this big, quiet, handsome brother of mine. Better than anyone else ever could, or would. Like he understood me. We just fit together, and no matter where we went, or what paths we took, we’d always find our way back here, to this place, one way or another. To each other, and this connection betwen us, deep as the roots in the fertile soil all around us. That’s all either of us needed to know. Everything else would sort itself out.
Hunt scooped his other arm around me, rolling onto his side and into me, our foreheads touching, his breath warm on my face, his eyes deep and intent.
“Was gonna take your fine little ass down to the swimming hole, little bro,” he murmured. “Fuck you there, just the way you like me to.”
“Fuck that, bro,” I said, buzzing his lips with mine, feeling my cock stirring back to life, just like his was against my thigh. “We’re here now. In our place. I dunno… seems right here, don’t it?”
“That it does, little bro,” he grinned. “That it does.”
Hunt pressed his lips to mine again, and we fell into another deep, slow, steady-building brother kiss. The soft, moist, smacking sounds of it joined the murmur and whisper of the breeze in the leaves and stalks that surrounded us, towering over the sweating, flexing thrusts of our bodies as we became one again, like we’d always been out here. This place a part of us, and each of us a part of the other, finding each other deep in the high corn once again.
The End
(Copyright A4F Tales 2023)