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. All characters featured are above 18 years-old and this story is meant to be read by adults only.
A FALL IN THE CITY
Chapter 9: The Naked Gardener
When I first woke up in the castle, it took me a few minutes to remember where exactly I was.
I was stark naked, sleeping over the sheets, my strong morning wood fully exposed.
That worried me for a split second, my mind was still thinking that I was on Liv's couch. Back at the shared apartment, I was way more mindful of my nudity.
But I was not there anymore. I could relax.
I had my own room in Fran's mansion, and I bet she would not have minded to see me naked anyway.
I slid into a pair of briefs before walking to the bathroom next door.
I did not even know if Fran was home.
She was great about this; we were pretty much living in a separate aisle of the mansion and she did not seem to bother whether I was there or not. She never asked questions about my whereabouts.
We had our separate set of keys and I could come and go as I wished.
Already, I could tell that I had made the right call leaving the apartment. It was becoming way too nerve-wracking to live with Olivia while I was fucking her boyfriend on the side.
My bad, I know.
I was not happy about my last conversation with Blake but it did feel like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
The sex was very, very good, but I am not one to deal with stress and drama.
I like to be free and to not mind people around me.
Having to calculate my behaviour all day long was the worst, and potentially hurting my only daughter was the final nail in the coffin.
Even if Fran had not offered me a place in her home, I would have simply gone back to Utah and slept in a tent.
I have to say though, I was glad for the marble bathtub and the hot water!
Not that I was enjoying luxury, - I pretty much never cared about comfort or money as long as I could live by -, but my first few days in the castle felt like a vacation.
One that I had not taken since my early twenties when I had lost my parents and had to go back to the farm... Damn, it was more than twenty years prior.
The irony was that I was actually working a lot in the mansion.
I wanted to make my stay worthwhile for Fran and I was committed to do all the repairs work she might have expected, and more.
Being on my own was complicating some of the tasks where I would have needed a helper, but for fuck's sake, I was fine working alone!
I was finally myself again. No argument, no serious talks, no stress... Just me, my hands, and some concrete work to do. God Bless!
I was not the only one working for Fran and I met her cook on my first day there.
He was a joyful Latino guy named Alfonzo, and from what I could tell, he was about my age.
He did not have my shape though... Alfonzo was morbidly obese and it was a bit scary to think that he was preparing Fran's meals every single day.
Clearly, the two of them were on two vastly different diets.
But I should not talk trash about Alfonzo because the lad was good to me.
He had no obligation to feed me but he would always offer me something to eat when he was in the house. He could hear me working upstairs, right above the kitchen and he would come with delicious treats to give me a break.
I knew Fran was loaded with money but it was hard to say to what degree.
Her house was probably worth millions at this stage but she had bought it more forty-five years prior, when she was in her mid-twenties and when the country was under a much different economy.
Still, she had a personal cook, a chauffeur, and a gardener who I had yet to meet. She was rich.
On my second night there, we actually ate together and Fran told me more about her life.
Well, her life was way too full to be dealt with in one single dinner, but we went over her first and second marriage.
Her second marriage being the one which lasted the longest, and which gave her two sons who were now in their late thirties.
I told her a bit about Debbie, how we got married and how she got pregnant with Olivia very quickly.
The wedding had nothing to with her pregnancy though, we were very much in love and we knew that we wanted to spend our life together.
I also told Fran how proud I was of my daughter, how well she had gotten over the death of her mother while she was not yet a teenager, and how she had left the middle of the desert to pursue her dreams.
"At only 21, she's already had an opportunity to live in London by herself for three months. Crazy how she grew up so fast."
"She's gonna be a strong independent woman, meaning you've been a good father to her." Fran commented, holding my hand warmly.
My princess had become an incredible woman indeed.
I barely mentioned Blake, it was a touchier subject.
Fran was hard to pin down or to define, but in one word, I could say that she was free. We were not so different in that way.
Her freedom had certainly come at a great cost, mainly her family, but at over 70 years old, - I was still unsure of her real age, - she kept on insisting on living by her own terms.
That was admirable.
I gave some news to Liv over the phone. We planned a dinner on the following Wednesday and she told me that "everything was fine back at the apartment."
I could not say whether she was lying or if, effectively, my departure had helped getting her and Blake together but I hoped they were okay.
By day three, I was feeling much more comfortable in my new home which translated into being way less careful about the way I was wandering around in the house.
Naked Joe was back!
That third morning, I did not bother with putting anything back on before leaving my bedroom for my shower.
Maybe I should have been more cautious? You tell me.
As I was about to reach the bathroom's door with my stiffed cock in its full morning glory, pointing straight to the ceiling, the door opened and a naked man appeared in front of me.
"Aaaaah!" He shouted, in shock, putting his large black hands in front of his impressive genitals.
"FUCK!" I yelled, surprised.
Unlike him, I did not think about hiding my hard cock from his eyes.
Not that I could have hidden that much meat anyway...
The dude jumped, seemed terrified, and he started running the other way.
His wet bubble ass was bouncing throughout the corridor.
"Hey!" I shouted. "Who are you?!"
Instinctively, I ran after him.
Who was this squatter in Fran's home?
"Help!" He screamed as if I was the one attacking him.
He ran down the stairs and I followed him hastily.
"Stop! Dude! What are you doing here?"
On the very last step, the one leading towards the main living-room, the guy fell face-down on the floor.
"Aaaah." He screamed.
I had him!
I practically jumped on his back to prevent him to move further.
"Gotcha!"
My hard-on had not subdued and suddenly, I was virtually dry-humping him. Trust me, it felt more like we were fucking rather than fighting.
But what were we fighting for anyway? Who was this naked idiot?!
I felt his wet body underneath me. The man must have been in his twenties, he was very muscular, - not a hint of fat, except maybe for that ass -, with a broad smooth back.
He was quite skilled with his moves.
As I was getting startled, feeling my cock against his ass crack, - it had been trapped in there like a sausage between two juicy buns -, the stranger nudged me with his elbow and managed to crawl his way out of my hold.
The little prick!
I grabbed his feet and ankles before he could stand back up and he tried to kick my face as I was holding him.
"HELP!" He yelled again.
"Help?! You're the freakin' intruder!"
"HELP!" He repeated.
"Fuckin' Hell, calm the fuck down, I got you! You're not going anywhere!"
In his attempt to escape from me, he turned around on himself, and for the first time since that split second where I had caught him in the corridor, I could take a good at him.
My first thought was that he looked very much like Aiden.
Consequently, my second thought was...
"Zaid?!"
I had already noticed their resemblance at Eric's party.
His eyes widened.
"Joe?! Joe Peterson? What... What the actual fuck?!"
I released my grip.
What did one of Blake's best mates doing here... Naked and semi-wet?!
I stood up but Zaid remained lying on the wooden floor. In this position, my cock was towering right above his surprised face.
By the way, at this point, he was solely staring at my slab of meat.
Yeap, even in those circumstances, a twelve-inches gigantic cock remains an impressive and unbelievable sight!
"What the hell are you doing here, Zaid?"
"I could ask you the same question." He panted.
He was out of breath after our little chase down the stairs.
"I work here! I live here!" I exclaimed.
"So do I! I'm the gardener for Ms. Davis."
Finally, the pressure dropped and I burst out laughing.
"You're the gardener she told me about?! Good Lord! Why did you run away when you saw me?!"
I extended my arm to help him stand back up.
His gaze was still very much on my cock but he did grab my hand (and not my dick) to help himself out.
"I was just scared! I'm usually alone in the house in the morning. I've been working here for almost a full year, I've never seen anyone, and especially, not in that state."
He stared right at my junks again; the poor boy could not help himself.
For some reason, I could not get Joe Junior to go back to a flaccid state. It was like the altercation had gotten me even harder, the tip of my cockhead was literally dripping.
To be fair, my insatiable rod had been in very close contact with a tight asshole and the itch of filling up a hole had been this close to be satisfied, it was sort of natural to be super horny now.
"I've just moved here." I explained.
