Hayin Time

This story is written for the 2020 Summer Lovin' Contest.

All sexual activity is among those older than 18 years of age.

It's a slow burn (with a little taste early on) and not excessively graphic, but I hope you'll find it worthwhile in the end.

Thanks for reading and for your feedback through any votes, comments, favorites, or follows!

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The note on the student union bulletin board was short and to the point.

WANTED

Farm hand for summer position.

Strenuous manual labor required.

$3.60/hour plus room and board.

It was 25 cents an hour over minimum wage, but it didn't look like it was drawing any interest. None of the little tabs at the bottom had been ripped off and other notices, mostly selling furniture and books that people didn't want to haul home for the summer, had already started being placed over it. In another day, I probably wouldn't have seen it at all.

No, I didn't have a job lined up for the summer of '83 and was having no luck finding one, so I ripped off a tab and stuck it in my pocket. A friend called out to me just moments later and I promptly forgot about it. Fortunately, the little slip of paper reappeared late that night when I pulled it, my last twelve cents, and an unused meal ticket out of my pocket. The little paper only had "Farm hand" and a phone number written on it.

"Hey, Ron, ever spend any time on a farm?"

"Nope. And wouldn't want to," said my roommate, looking up from his engineering text. "You ever smell pigs and what they wallow in? Gross! Really, really gross!"

Ron packed up his backpack and headed out to meet his study group, so I tried to study for a while but had little success. There was too much on my mind.

I'd grown up in the suburbs, working as a regular stock boy, sometimes bagger, and occasional cashier at the local market. Unfortunately, my position was taken by another high school kid when I left for college, and Mr. Wampler, the owner, didn't have another opening for me for just the summer. I was practically desperate to find something at home since I needed the money to pay for expenses during my upcoming junior year and since I expected Carla Pittini to be home from college.

Carla and I had been in the same class in high school, living just a few houses apart in the same subdivision. We'd been friends since shortly after her family moved in when we were in junior high and I'd always been quite taken by her. I'd helped her with her homework at times and we'd been lab partners on more than a few occasions. I'd even attended some of her tennis matches, at home and the state tourney when she was a senior, but I'd never worked up the courage to ask her out.

Therefore, it was a surprise when Carla called me at the end of the previous summer. "Eric, will you come to my pool party?"

"Pool party?" I squeaked out in surprise. "Ahhh...sure! When is it?"

"Okay, great! It's Saturday night, 9 PM. Whatever you do, don't tell a soul. My parents are going to be out of town so this is going to be really small, just a few of us. Wear your swim trunks, bring a towel, and walk over. I don't want any cars out front since they might alert Old Miz Nosy. She'll blab to my mom if she sees anything."

After a week that seemed about a month long, Saturday night finally arrived.

I walked up the drive without seeing Mrs. Nosler across the street and hoped she hadn't seen me. Carla met me at the front door, and after pulling me inside, gave me a hug. With her dressed in a red bikini, probably the smallest I'd ever seen, I was at a loss as to where to put my hands, so I smiled like an idiot with my hands by my sides until she politely broke off the embrace. More than a little embarrassed at my ineptitude, I tried to reset the situation, asking how she'd been since we'd last seen each other. We spoke for a couple of minutes before she took my hand and led me through the house.

Out back, the party was even smaller than I expected. There were three of her sorority sisters from their prestigious college for women in the northeast, a date for each of them, Carla, and me. It was only then that I realized that I was Carla's date and that, if I wasn't an idiot, it would be a great evening.

I didn't know any of the others, though. Carla's sorority sisters had attended private high schools in the city and she hadn't known any of them until they met as pledges. Now they seemed to be best friends. Their dates were strangers to us, too, with them looking as shocked to be there as I was.

The girls were great friends, but the guys were a bit reserved. As a result, the girls did almost all of the talking for the first little while. However, when the ladies went inside for a few minutes, we started talking and found we were a lot alike. After that, we had a great time with the girls, swimming, dancing (with the volume of the music down low to avoid bothering Carla's neighbors), and drinking. With the legal drinking age still eighteen, we had more booze than we could use. I wasn't a big drinker, but I had a couple of beers and the girls made several mixed drinks that we all tried.

Therefore, I was feeling pretty good later that evening when Carla and I ended up in the pool together, looking at each other and smiling. We'd talked more that evening than we had in years, and the distance between us had shrunk, little by little, throughout the evening until now we were only inches apart. I'd tried to avoid getting excited as we'd moved closer and as the temperature seemingly rose, but on seeing the other guys with similar problems and their girls just grinning, I finally decided to enjoy myself, ignoring my erection, somewhat hidden as it was in the water. Still, it was tough looking into Carla's eyes and trying to focus on them rather than her breasts in that little red bikini. Her boobs didn't appear to be quite as big as those of her sorority sisters, but I was quite impressed.

"Eric, I have a question," she said quietly. "Why didn't you ever ask me out in high school?"

I was shocked at the question and didn't know what to say. It took a few moments but I finally forced out a version of the truth. "I was afraid if I asked you and you said no, you wouldn't want to be my friend anymore."

She twisted her mouth slightly, as if disappointed in my answer, before answering. "Eric, you were, still are, and always will be—

Having seen the new Star Trek movie just weeks earlier, I knew the scene where a dying Spock tells Kirk about friendship, so I knew exactly what was coming...until I didn't..

"—a goofy nerd." She giggled,

Talk about a letdown! While it was quite true, Carla pointing it out made me feel as if I'd been kicked in the gut and had my head deflated all at the same time. Fortunately, though she paused, she wasn't finished as she moved even closer to me, her breasts almost touching my chest.

"But, Eric, you're my friend, too, and I really appreciate that. I saw you in the crowd at some of my tennis matches, and that always made me want to play better for you."

I looked away, hoping she wouldn't see me blush, but I probably blushed even more when she turned my face, leaned in that last tiny bit, and kissed me.

I'd been on a few dates in high school and several more in college. I'd even kissed some of the girls goodnight along the way, but this was, by far, the best kiss ever. My eyes closed and I was in heaven as I slid my arms around her slender but muscular form, finally feeling what I'd missed out on in the front hall. Our kiss went on for a bit before she pulled away, still grinning at me as I tried to catch my breath.

The kiss was over but we were still in an embrace and it was only then that I realized she had to feel my hard penis pressed between us. I tried to shift, to move it away so maybe she wouldn't realize what it was, but her grin only deepened and she shook her head. Leaning forward so her breasts were pressed hard between us like my dick was, she whispered, "Want to go inside? I have something I want to show you?"

Carla went up the ladder first, that high-waisted red bikini bottom making it look as if her legs were yards long. I tried to force my eyes to look away, but, as the water streamed off of her, I couldn't help staring at the smooth, red valley between her thighs, knowing of the hidden treasure that I'd never yet sampled buried just below the fabric.

She saw its effect on me as I climbed out; there was no hiding my excitement now. She grinned and took my hand before leading me in the house. It was only then that I saw all of the other couples had already left the pool area.

She handed me my towel and wrapped one about herself before we stepped inside. The cold air from the air conditioner on our still-wet skin made it feel almost like winter, and I couldn't help but notice it affect Carla. Her nipples thrust hard against the thin fabric of her bikini top, making what I considered to be perfect points.

Up the stairs we went to Carla's room. She closed and locked the door behind us and I anticipated what was about to happen.

However, I'd anticipated wrong once again.

"Right here," she said, turning and pointing to several tennis trophies. "You were there at State when I placed third for this one senior year. I was really disappointed when I didn't make the final so I think I'd have lost that consolation match, too, if I hadn't seen you staying to encourage me."

I smiled. "I'm glad, but you'd have gone just as well if I hadn't been there."

"I doubt it. This one was for the tournament over at Eastside. That's where David, Missy's date, went, by the way. You came to that one, too. I remember."

She'd been the champion in her division there. I'd forgotten about that tournament until she mentioned it, but didn't get the chance to admit my lapse. She moved close, wrapped her arms around me, and started kissing me again.

Feeling her pressing herself against me, it took no time at all before my dick swelled and was again as hard as a rock. She pressed herself tight to me, against my penis, trapping me for a few moments before rocking her mound up and down it a couple of times. I couldn't believe what was happening, but then she relaxed, pulling away a little.

Talk about disappointment! I started to pull her close again but she slid her hand between us, grasping my penis through the still-wet trunks. Up and down she went, several times, looking me in the eyes.

"Feel good?"

"Not good. Perfect," I breathed, but she shook her head.

"Can't be perfect. You have on wet swim trunks." She let go of me before reaching in to undo the string in the waistband of my trunks. Pushing them down, my dick was suddenly free, standing at attention between us, with me being stark naked. She took me in hand again and started to pump, up and down, slowly, magnificently.

I'd had to drop my left hand away from her waist to give her room, but my right hand was still around her so I slid it down, onto the swell of her buttocks. I squeezed gently and then several more times with increasing firmness, causing her to bite her lower lip as she continued to do her work. Lower and lower I went, until I entered her valley, just brushing her thigh on each side, causing her to catch her breath. With two fingers on the bikini fabric, I rubbed gently, forward and back. When I reached the right spot, her eyes fluttered closed, and I switched to a third finger, rubbing just a bit harder, matching her pace on my cock.

After a little effort, the bikini fabric gave way in the center, allowing me to feel the little groove between her nether lips, leading her to moan, barely audibly. I continued to do this for a bit, causing her breath to shorten, her moans to increase in speed and intensity.

With the bikini fabric pushed just a tiny bit into her slit, I felt the outside edges of that little band with my index and ring fingers, so I shifted slightly and slid them under the sides, feeling her incredible softness.

"No, Eric. Not like that. Please. Don't go inside my bikini or inside me. Please," she repeated.

I nodded as I pulled my two errant digits back out and started rubbing the fabric again, trying to reach her clit with each stroke. She smiled and gave me a quick kiss as if a reward. Her heavy breathing resumed and mine joined hers just moments later as I felt my release starting to build, becoming more and more intense as she continued her pumping. I continued rubbing, pleasuring her too, until I shot and she clamped my fingers with her thighs.

I opened my eyes to find my dorm room dark and that I'd relived the glorious event in more detail than I'd intended, making a mess on my chest and stomach. I heard Ron's key in the lock then, just in time for me to pull the sheet over me and feign sleep. Hoping he wouldn't smell anything, I decided to wash my sheets the next day and was, before too long, really asleep.

***

I hadn't seen Carla since minutes after she'd thanked me and kissed me goodnight after our encounter. We'd swapped a few letters during our sophomore year, but mine were long and rambling and hers were short, almost terse. As if by mutual agreement, there was never any mention of our shared moment of pleasure, but she knew I was looking forward to seeing her again and must have realized that I wanted to see if there might be more between us than just that moment. She'd gone skiing with her sorority sisters over Christmas break and our spring breaks had been different weeks.

Thoughts of Carla, exams, strenuous manual labor, and the smell of pigs kept me busy the next day and the laundry was forgotten until bedtime. I let out a curse when I realized that my spare sheets were dirty, too. Sleep came hard that night as I worried; with only about a week left until the end of school, I had no other prospects. I'd applied at a lot of places and made even more calls, but it wasn't looking good. By Sunday evening, I was getting desperate.

It was a collect call. "Who may I say is calling?" asked the operator.

"Summer farm hand," I replied, hoping the farmer would accept the charges. I was surprised when a lady on the other end of the call did.

"Hi, you're calling about a summer job?" she asked.

"Yes, hello. My name is Eric Crenshaw. I saw an ad on a bulletin board for a farm hand for the summer. I'd like to apply if you still have an opening."

"Eric, let me grab Ralph, my husband. He'll be able to help you."

Ralph Johnson ran me through a number of questions and my chances of getting the job decreased with each. "So you're saying you've never hauled hay or worked on a farm or a ranch? Never even been on one?"

"Ah...yes, sir. That's right. But I'm a hard worker, sir, and I'm willing to learn." A vision of Harold Ramis and Bill Murray talking to an army recruiter swam through my head as I said that.

Mr. Johnson must not have gotten the reference or the attempt at humor, for he responded with a "Hmmph." Or maybe he did. Anyway, he paused for a few more seconds before saying, "Okay, Eric, you have the job on a probationary basis. I'll send you a bus ticket, and hold the return ticket. I'll guarantee work, room and board, and your pay for a week. If you do a good job and show you can work, I'll keep you on for the whole summer. If you can't handle it or if you lollygag, we'll be done; you'll get back on the bus with the return ticket and your week's pay. Deal?"

"Yes, sir! When will you send the ticket?"

"Tell me this: when do you get out of exams?"

"My last one's on Thursday."

"Good. The ticket will be in the mail on Monday, and should be to you Tuesday or Wednesday, but no later than Thursday. You call collect when you receive it to let me know. I'm going to include a check for $100 so you can buy a few things you'll need: hat, boots, jeans, gloves, and such. I'll include the full list so you can buy them there and bring them with you. If you don't have 'em, you can buy 'em here, but they'll be a little more expensive and the difference will come out of your pocket. I'm not in the social finance business. You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, I need for you to be here by Saturday afternoon so you can get acclimated on Sunday and be ready to start bright and early on Monday."

When I didn't have any other questions, he took my name and address before saying, "Eric, I'm looking forward to working with you. Good luck with your exams."

***

With most of my things in storage for the summer, I caught the 7:10 AM bus and felt as if I was going stir crazy by the time we pulled into Nowhereville at 4:19 that Saturday afternoon. With each mile, I'd gotten farther away from home and from Carla Pittini. With each such mile, my hopes had sunk further.

Mr. Johnson had said the bus stop was in front of the drug store on Main Street in the middle of town, but I was shocked at how tiny the place was. I didn't even see a traffic light, though there was a stop sign at the only crossroad I could see about three buildings down the street.

The driver opened the cargo hold and I pulled out my duffel bag. Standing there on the sidewalk in front of the drug store with that bag and my backpack, I watched the bus pull away as I wondered what the hell I'd gotten myself into.

It was hot and, despite being late afternoon, the sun was still bright so I reached in the backpack and pulled out a floppy hat to reduce the glare and provide a bit of protection. Then I looked up and down the street.

There were a few cars parked along the street, but there wasn't a soul in sight. The bank parking lot was deserted as was that of the local Feed and Seed. I was a bit worried but the panic really set in when I realized there wasn't even a phone booth around and the drug store had already closed for the afternoon.

I'd noticed a gas station with a couple of cars out front as we rode by, a little way up the road past a few houses, a park, and a school so I decided that would be my best bet. They'd have a phone so I could call Mr. Johnson. I was about to pick up my bags when I wondered if, just maybe, I'd gotten off the bus in the wrong town. I looked around at the few business names and shook my head. Not the wrong town, unless it had all been an elaborate prank at my expense. Of course, with the check he'd sent me and the $8.29 change from it that I had in my pocket for him, I really didn't think that was the case. Hefting the duffel bag onto my shoulder, I started the long walk.

I'd gone less than a hundred yards when I heard a pickup truck coming up the road from the south. A long way from the south, it seemed; as it neared, I realized that it needed a new muffler. It was so loud it was probably rattling the windows in the houses as it passed by them. It went by me fairly slowly, leading me to almost clamp my hands over my ears, but then it swung into the empty parking lane on the right side of the road before continuing on to do a U-turn right there in the middle of town. Not that anyone cared. There was nothing else moving anywhere.

The truck came to a stop in the parking place next to me and the driver, a balding man of about sixty, killed the engine, restoring silence to the tiny community. The windows in the vehicle were rolled down so he looked out the passenger window at me. "You Eric?"

When I nodded, rather hesitantly, he continued, "Sorry I'm late. I'm Toby, Mister Ralph's hired man. Cows got out an' I had to get 'em in an' wire up the fence 'for I could make it up here for 'ya. Throw your gear in the back an' hop in."

I didn't have time to ask any questions before he restarted the engine and the host of rumbling banshees returned. I put my bags in the back and got in before Toby put the truck in gear, let off the clutch, and we were off. I struggled to get my seat-belt on before noticing that he wasn't wearing one.