A Fall in the City -

Farmer Joe finds himself forced to live with his daughter and her boyfriend, Blake, for the entire Fall. The redneck hates being stuck in a small apartment in the city, but he has a secret. Joe and Blake have begun a relationship last Summer... Living once again in such close proximity, things could get steamy... and complicated.

This book is a sequel to A Summer at the Farm, told through Joe's perspective.

The story, names, and places are entirely fictional.

All characters featured in the story are above 18.

This story is only meant to be read by a mature audience, and in any case, by people over the age of 18.

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A FALL IN THE CITY

Chapter 1: The good Picket

I am not sure that I can pin point the moment when I became who I am.

Was I born gay, or bisexual, as they say? Is everyone bisexual by nature? Maybe... Or have I changed with time?

All I know is that, as a young adult, I loved shoving my dick deep inside a woman's cunt.

What can I say? I had always been a big fan of wet pussies.

It felt like that was where my fat cock belonged, and I assume this is pretty straight of me! Right?

I loved sniffing a warm snatch, eating it, fingering it. I also enjoyed playing with perky boobs or a bubble butt.

Growing up, I was not fantasising about my hunky math teacher or my baseball coach.

My mind and my libido were solely focused on my mate's mothers (God Bless the MILFS in Utah, especially back in the nineties) or on Miss Huller, my sexy English teacher.

That being said, I was also a firm believer in the theory of: "a hole is a hole".

Younger, my mates were teasing me for being willing to fuck any chick coming my way, as long as she had a hole into which I could bury my abnormally large cock.

Beautiful or ugly, thin or fat, brunette or blondie, I was always the first one to volunteer to fuck a welcoming vagina.

Maybe that is not a beautiful thing to say, nor gratifying... I do not know and, frankly, I do not care.

Every woman deserved to be fucked, that was my religion!

And if a man was feminine enough or crazy enough to think that he had a clit instead of a hairy asshole between his legs, who was I to refuse to make anyone feel good?

I am a giver at heart.

After fucking every kind of women possible, I only started dabbling with men's cunts in the army.

The military really does turn you into a proper Man!

You cannot imagine how many soldiers are closeted faggots, or maybe, they were just bored and horny.

Either way, I discovered a lot of things about male-on-male affection during that time.

I was very good at spotting them. The homos, I mean.

If every single guy was checking my dong in the showers or in the barracks, - to be fair, my cock is so damn big that it would make anyone stare -, the fruits had an additional sparkle in their eye when watching me, or a twitch in their ass that I could immediately notice.

My first experience with another dude was with the guy who was sharing my bunk bed.

Funny enough, I was sleeping at the bottom and he was on top.

One night, and while eight other cadets were sleeping next to us, Picket jumped from our bed and looked at me sleeping over the thin sheet.

Those fucking bunk beds were the most uncomfortable shit I have ever slept on, but that is not the point.

Picket was like mesmerized by the sight of my cock.

I was sleeping naked because, first of all, it was hot in there, and second of all, I had nothing to hide.

Who could blame Picket from staring though?

I guess it is time to stop beating around the bush (pun intended) and to talk about my fat dick in more details.

Joe Junior is going to be one of the main characters of this story after all. I should introduce him properly.

If women were attracted to me because I was working my muscles every single day at the gym, and I was cultivating my scruffy bad-boy looks, the chicks were often scared when it was time to get naked and down to business.

Meeting the beast thriving between my legs for the first time could be intimidating.

"It's gonna hurt too much!"

On the contrary, my big cock seemed to act as a magnet for gay guys.

One look and they were on their knees, begging to service it.

I found out later that even straight guys could barely resist my dong's power.

To be clear, when I say big, I am not talking about the impressive but also pretty common 8 to 9 inches pole.

Nah, you are reading the story of a white man who is sporting, when hard, a 12.1 inches cock. I can tell because I had it taped during on hot summer at my farm.

Yes, I basically have a large bottle of water, -- because it is also super girthy and thick --, to offer.

The massive hairy balls come with the package and I guess, this also has its importance, I am uncut and my veins are very prominent and visible down there, even when I am flaccid.

You see, I do not have a great cock dangling between my legs, I have the best cock in the damn world. Anyone who has seen me naked will tell you the same.

It can be scary but for some reason, faggots seemed more willing than women to take on a (massive) challenge.

More often than not, chicks had refused for me to penetrate them, or were screaming as soon I had shoved the tip in their ass.

Arf!

Do not wake up the beast if you cannot handle it! Huge cock's problems, you know the drill.

Obviously, I did find some women able to take it, or at the very least most of it, even some who asked me to break their asses, but as I said, the guys were just more adamant to prove themselves, both when they were sucking my rod or taking it in their assholes.

Maybe this helps you understand why 19 years-old Picket was so hypnotized by my tool that night.

Did he know that he loved cocks before that fateful encounter?

I will never know.

Sometimes, I wonder if my cock is not magical! How many boys did I turn from their straight path?

I believe that, by this point, Picket had already seen Joe Junior flaccid, - as I said, I was no shy and I did not bother wearing much clothes when I was not forced to do so by our superiors -, but he had never seen it hard, in its full twelve-inches glory.

I am talking about a time when we did not have phones, and even less so smartphones, only old playboy magazines were keeping us company in our barracks.

I was the best porn content Picket could have access to.

I was not sleeping yet because I was too horny, but my arms were aching from a day spent military training, and an evening spent lifting weights.

I was a dedicated bodybuilder, even when I had to serve my time in the army.

Anyway, Picket was there, looking at my crotch and making a O with his puffy lips. My dick was hard, I was too lazy to jerk off, so I broke the silence.

"Wanna taste it?" I muttered.

I have always been the direct type. I hate the fancy words, the innuendos, and all other type of bullshit.

State your piece, be clear, own up to what you want.

It was not such a bold move from my part.

One, because I had already seen the newbie check me out when I was undressing. I was pretty sure of his intentions. Two, because I am not scared of anyone.

Even if he had not been interested or if someone else had heard my invitation, I did not give a fuck about whatever they might think.

Besides, calling each other gay, homo, or faggot was pretty much all that we did 90% of the time. Anyone catching me saying this would probably have thought that this was just a way of teasing Picket.

Now that I am older, I wonder why men are so fascinating with homosexuality, and why they cannot help themselves mocking each other on potentially being gay. Dropping the bar of soap, breaking their own wrist, using a feminine voice, we were caricaturing and playing the "faggot part" dozens of times a day.

In any case, my call on Picket was sincere and it was spot on. I had never let a guy touch me, but right there, for some reason, I wanted to try it.

The dude was as attracted by a massive cock as one can be!

He looked around nervously but knelt down nonetheless, getting in his submissive position.

I did not move the slightest and I let him lean over the bed to be able to grab my cock. I did not want to make his task easier.

He first went at it tentatively with his right hand, slowly stroking me, and since I was letting him play with it, he went further and put his lips over my cockhead.

We did not exchange a single word and he started sucking me off.

That felt nice.

I really did not think about the fact that having Picker blowing me could make me into a homosexual myself.

I mean, I was not doing anything wrong since he was doing all the work, and his mouth did not feel much different than any other women, aside from the fact that he seemed more committed in swallowing my entire slab of meat.

A performance which he did not achieve, but no one could really fault the guy.

I learnt later on that I was the first dick he had ever sucked. Taking this into consideration, swallowing two thirds of my pole at the first try was quite the achievement.

Besides, he got to it later on, his nose buried in my pubic bush.

The good Picket blew me until completion that night and I nutted in his throat. I did not warn him, we had to be quiet.

Also, this was much more fun this way!

It was sort of comical to see him trying not to make a sound while he was struggling to swallow the huge amount of sperm that I had just busted inside of him.

I had not jizzed in 48 hours and believe me, my 19 years-old balls were rather full. He had done a good job emptying them.

I made a quick nod with my head to thank him and to ask him to leave, and he did.

Soldier Picket went to the bathroom and came back on the top bed about five minutes later. He did not make any comment.

I was falling asleep, cumming had always been a great and natural sleeping pill.

I cannot say if I would have been this fine with it if this had not happened in almost total darkness... But it had felt almost like a dream and I did not wreck my brain around it.

In my views, people who think too much are just dumb.

I never understood the professors or politicians, spending hours and hours talking and debating about the most foolish things.

Can we let men live their damn lives without over-analysing everything?

We sleep, we eat, we shit, we fuck and we go back to sleep. Pretty simple. All the rest if pure non-sense for people who cannot do anything with their hands or who have too much time to waste.

Anyway, Picket sucked me off and rather quickly, I understood that it could be useful to keep benefiting from his services to release the pressure.

What else was I supposed to do in an all-men environment?

A man has his needs and it is not surprising that both the army and prison are two places where tons of homosexual sex are taking place.

The irony is, those are probably some of the most homophobic places on Earth... Once again, people just overthink too much.

Picket would always come at me discreetly in the dark, and when it became a habit, we put a system in place where he would suck me off in the empty shower-room at night.

Apparently, we were not that discreet though.

Rumours started to spread that Picket and Peterson were fooling around at night.

I did not care that much about being found out. I was the one being serviced which was way less humiliating than being the one sucking the dick, and nobody was brave enough to confront me directly anyway.

They knew I could beat up any guy who would dare coming after me.

The two dudes I had punched in the face during the first week of military training had built my reputation. Not mentioning the fact that I was the biggest guy there, and I was not afraid to show it.

That is just a bodybuilder thing: we are conditioned to show off and flex our muscles at every opportunity.

I had been working-out every single day since I was a teenage boy and at nearly 20 years old, I was a Muscle God. My biceps were huge, my pecs even bigger, my abs on point; and each of my thigh was larger than an average dude's pair of legs.

The hearsay was tougher to handle for Picket though.

He started getting teased, harassed even, and that was not good.

I hated hearing people mocking Picket for doing something which was helping me out so much. He was a good boy to me and he deserved praising for his behaviour, not hate.

It was like they were insulting me, even if my name had never ever been pronounced.

When things went too far one day, I snapped.

Grant amused the group by pissing in the shower, - which was fine -, until he was pissing on MY little Picket.

"Take that leak, queer, it's coming straight from my dick, I guess you should love that".

Honestly, I almost killed Grant that day.

When I am angry, nothing can stop me. It was even truer when I was a young and reckless man.

Grant ended up bleeding in the shower, I punched his face and upper chest, and then I twisted his balls until he turned purple.

You want to know the irony of this story? Grant is now married to another dude.

Hell, the biggest homophobes are always the biggest homos!

From this point on, nobody dared to attack Picket and we were not so careful about hiding ourselves.

Picket could suck me off in my bed at night even when some of our mates were not asleep, or even in public, in the middle of the communal showers at the busiest time of the evening.

I loved that, showing off what I could have him do to me.

Better than that, word spread around that being my personal whore was coming with a few perks, namely, benefiting from my protection (aside from the fact that the faggots got to taste a delicious humongous cock).

This was a true blessing for the few guys who were rumoured or known to be homosexuals and who were taking a lot of shit for it every single day.

What was the point of getting bullied if they were not doing anything concrete?

About a month after Picket had sucked my dick for the first time, lines of faggot started to form for a chance to service me and from this point on, I simply had to pick and choose. One, two or three at the same time.

I became the main cum tank from the not-so-closeted homos of the sixth regiment, and I spent an entire year getting blown by the biggest bitches in the army.

My straight mates had fully accepted the situation and everyone was making light of it.

"Who's sucking you off tonight, Peterson?"

"Two faggots are expected to service Joe. Anyone interested?"

"Joe Peterson and his hundred sluts! That'd be a great movie."

Honestly, I think most of the soldiers were impressed by my boldness. They would never dare to get blown themselves, even if they were dying to try it!

Life is pretty simple that way.

If you own whatever you do, people will have no choice but to respect it.

I even had fun making the queers compete between each other. Who could deepthroat me? Who would let me be rough? Who could take the hardest slaps or spit? Who would have the stamina to endure a 20 minutes face-fuck?

There were other benefits too.

Make my bed, you get to swallow my balls. Get me some alcohol, you get to suck my dick. Bring me some food, you get to rim my ass.

That quickly turned into my favourite thing. Having my ass eaten, I mean.

It was quite strange because I had never been very thorough with hygiene and even at 20, my ass was huge and hairy as can be. Pretty disgusting if I do say so myself, but the faggots seemed to love it.

There was this one guy in particular, Falker, - he became a dean at a university years later -, he was a pro at digging his warm tongue inside my asshole.

The dude was a real freak and he could spend hours eating me up while stroking my third leg to make me cum.

He was the first guy I fucked in the ass.

Not a very striking memory. I only wanted to push things further one time but the poor Falker was not ready for a twelve inches rod in his virgin butthole.

He barely took one third of it and then, he could no longer sit the next day.

It took me some time to reiterate the experience, thinking that a manhole was just too tight to handle my fat slab of meat.

I was wrong though.

Another guy, I do not remember his real name but everyone was calling him Benny, offered me his ass one day, and that dude knew what he was doing. Clearly, he was no virgin.

He let me pound his cunt like a maniac for about fifteen minutes in the doggy style position and I jizzed in his asshole.

That was cool and Benny became one of my favourites.

Him and Picket, of course, I thought I owed a lot to my first guy and I never refused Picket a load. I fucked him as well afterwards, once he was ready; he was tighter than Benny but it was even better this way.

Do not get this wrong though, I was not only fucking other men.

To the astonishment of my peers who were both impressed and amused by my performances, I was managing to find girls to bang, even in this environment.

I had always been clever when it came to getting chicks inside my bed.

Every time a woman was approaching the military camp where we were staying at, she would, one way or another, end with my dick in her pussy, mouth and/or ass.

I mean nurses, local girls, wives of high rank officers... I was ploughing them all!

Maybe I should not be too proud of that, but, throughout the course of my life, my dick has always had a stronger influence than my brain.

I did not try to impress anyone, I was just following my instincts, and my instincts were constantly driving me to the closest hole I could fill.

Of course, this bad habit brought me some troubles.

I was almost sent to jail when an officer understood that I was banging his wife on the side. It was a whole scandal.

It was really not worth it because said wife was awfully bad at sex, but eh, the officer did not seem to see the favour I was giving him by teaching her a thing or two on how to handle a juicy wet cock.

All of the sudden, I had to change regiment and I lost both my friends and faithful bitches all at once.

I did get an official warning but I avoided jail. I was a good fit soldier so what would have been point in punishing me?

Trust me though, it did not take long to find myself some brand-new personal whores in the next regiment.

I used the exact same method, staying naked as much as possible, searching for the lust in some of their eyes, and offering myself to the most daring sluts.

To be honest, during that time, I was actually chasing more guys than girls.

The reason was pretty simple. Fucking a married woman had gotten me into a lot of shit, while banging other guys appeared to be way less risky. I could only see benefits.

I was getting properly getting off and the dudes would never tell anyone and even when it was known, the army would never own up to the fact that their soldiers were fooling around with each other.

Remember, soldiers could not be gay back then.

Well, I am not sure things have changed so much on this regard nowadays...

All that to say that the army had been a real learning experience for me, as for many other dudes.

Maybe I would have never touched another guy if it had not been for my two years spent with the military.

Who fucking knows?

But when I was back at the family farm, it was too late. The seed had been sown and I would never go back to being "fully straight".

Throughout the decade which followed, although I never considered "dating" a guy for real, I kept on fucking willing faggots on the side and feeding them with my monster cock. Yes, even when I was married.

My parents died the year following my return from the army, - both of them were gone in the span of six months, - and this was a tough time for me.