In the dimly lit corner of the YMCA, a solitary figure approached the noticeboard. His eyes scanned the various ads for yoga classes, missing pets, and garage sales. Amongst the sea of mundane, a flyer with bold letters caught his eye. It was a job offer, but not just any job. The words "Companion for Farm Owner" stood out like a lighthouse in the fog of his unemployed existence.
Alex had been living in the city for the past decade, working odd jobs, in and out of relationships but had not yet found the man of his dreams. He was tall and in excellent shape for his age of twenty-nine, with splendid locks of hair to suit his build, which was naturally thin with a size thirty-two-inch waist.
The advertisement mentioned that the owner was in his late fifties and seeking someone to share in the tranquillity of rural living. It was not what Alex was expecting, but he figured it could not hurt to apply. Plus, the promise of free lodging and food was too good to pass up, and the job description was simple, help with general duties around the farm, be honest, and keep an open mind. That last part made him pause, but he figured he could handle whatever the older man threw his way.
As he sent the email, Alex could not help but wonder what kind of man he would be living with if he was successful in his application. Would they get along? Would it be weird? Just as he was about to give up hope of receiving a response, a message appeared in his inbox. The subject line read: "Farm Companion Interview." His heart raced as he opened it.
The interview was set for the following weekend, and George provided detailed instructions on how to get to the farm. Alex could not believe his luck. He had never felt so hopeful about a job prospect. He spent the next few days researching farming and brushing up on his country etiquette, not wanting to make a fool of himself.
The day of the interview arrived, and Alex set off early with his backpack full of his possessions in the hope that the journey might be one-way. Somehow, relying on buses, he arrived on time late in the afternoon, and George greeted him at the gate, a burly man, with a gentle smile and a firm handshake. His skin was weathered from years of working outside, and his eyes were a warm, earthy brown. Alex felt a strange comfort wash over him as they walked towards the house. The farm was even more beautiful up close, with a serene pond reflecting the late afternoon sun and chickens pecking at the ground. This could be home; he thought to himself.
Inside, the house was surprisingly modern, with a cosy living room that smelled faintly of tobacco. They sat across from each other at a sturdy wooden table, and George began the interview. He asked about Alex's life in the city, his work history, and his reasons for applying for the position. Alex spoke openly about his struggles and his longing for a simpler life. George listened intently, nodding along, his eyes never leaving Alex's.
The conversation turned to the "honesty and open-mindedness" part of the job description. George leaned in; his expression serious. "I'm a straightforward man, Alex. I need someone who will not shy away from the realities of farm life. And, well, I am not looking for a hand to hold, but someone to share in the work and companionship. Can you handle that?" Alex nodded; his throat suddenly dry. He could handle it. He was ready for a change, and he was not going to let a little mystery stand in his way.
“Great, said George, "let's take a tour of the farm," he said. "I'll show you where you'll be living, and we can talk more about what the job entails."
The tour ended with a visit to the chicken coop, where three dozen hens clucked and pecked at the ground. "These girls keep us in eggs," George said with a chuckle. Alex reached out to touch one, and it pecked at his hand playfully. He laughed, feeling more at ease than he had in years.
The interview had been thorough, and Alex had seen everything he needed, including his bedroom which was extremely comfortable with an ensuite bathroom for convenience. “So, I like what I see, Alex, but do you like the setup enough to join me on this farm and live an honest life?” George asked.
Alex was stuck for something to say as he feared being too keen and excited by the opportunity. All he could muster at that moment in time was “Yes, I like the setup and would love to stay.”
“Excellent decision,” said George. “We can talk more in the morning as I am getting a little tired now. Make yourself at home and have a look around the kitchen for something to eat because it’s too late for me to swing into culinary action.”
Leaving Alex in the lounge, George walked to the bottom of the stairs and started to ascend “Good night, Alex, see you in the morning,” and he retired leaving the young man to ponder his decision to stay. After a rummage around the kitchen, Alex found something to eat and afterwards, he stepped outside onto the porch to take in the evening air, enjoying a smoke in the dark and quiet countryside.
The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, painting the sky with strokes of pink and gold as Alex stood on the porch being an early riser, the crisp air nipping at his skin as he sipped his coffee. He was wearing his favourite black nightshirt that hung to his thighs and highlighted his muscles and torso as well as his raging hard-on sticking out proudly.
He took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a comforting embrace. The distant crow of a rooster only broke the quietude of the morning.
George too was an early riser and as he drew back the curtains in his bedroom, he wondered how Alex had slept. As he walked downstairs into the kitchen, he noticed the lights were still off, but the aroma of fresh coffee suggested activity and he could see the red of a burning cigarette on the porch. Quietly, George stepped closer to the window to see what his new house guest was doing. Just a sneak with no intention of disturbing his private moment.
Alex was looking out over the rolling fields, the dew-kissed grass sparkling in the early light. The quietude was soothing, a balm to his soul as he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of the countryside.
George could see Alex’s morning wood poking the material of the mesh nightshirt and his hands moving slowly down to his cock for a little tug feeling horny first thing in the morning. As George spied on the young man, as his new companion slipped his mesh nightshirt over his shoulders allowing the fabric to slither to the ground, leaving him naked, but very much aroused as he wrapped his hand around his cock.
George stood in silence, his erection forming as Alex started to stroke his cock. The strokes grew more insistent, his other hand playing with his nipples, teasing the sensitive flesh until they were tight peaks. His eyes closed, Alex was lost in the sensation, the quiet sounds of the farm a gentle backdrop to his solitary pleasure.
George wondered if Alex was imagining anything, even him, standing behind, his calloused hands taking over, guiding him to the edge of release. The thought sent a shiver down George’s spine, his hips bucking slightly as he increased the tempo.
The tension grew within him, his breath coming in short gasps as the world around him faded away. Alex was lost in the sensation, as he stood on the precipice of ecstasy. It was all too much for George. With trembling hands, he slipped his briefs down, his cock standing erect and hungry. He stroked himself slowly, matching Alex's rhythm, his breaths hitching in time with the younger man's.
And then, with a soft moan, George was shooting, the warmth of his release spilling over his hand as he watched Alex shoot his load with a powerful spurt that left George in awe of the young man who now shared his house. He watched the younger man's body convulse with pleasure; his orgasm having ripped through him like a bolt of lightning. George leaned against the wall, panting, his hand still moving over his sensitive flesh, the echoes of his climax resonating through the quiet house.
George bent down to pull his briefs up quickly, not wanting to get caught spying on Alex. His hands covered with cum he wiped them on the cotton material of his briefs before turning away from the window to resume making that coffee he had promised himself.
As for Alex, his breathing evened out, he felt a warmth spread through him, a sense of belonging that was as intoxicating as the orgasm that still shivered through his body. With a final sigh, he bent to retrieve his nightshirt, the mesh fabric cold against his flushed skin as he slipped it back on and buttoned up, none the wiser that George had been watching him from inside the kitchen just feet away.
George managed to make his coffee undetected, the kitchen still in semi-darkness he pushed the door open with his mug of coffee steaming in his hand as he greeted Alex, "You’re up early and good to see you enjoying the view," he said, his eyes lingering on the transparency of the material before looking away, a hint of shyness crossing his face.
"Couldn't sleep," Alex replied, taking another drag. "Too excited about the idea of a fresh start, and I’m sorry about what I’m wearing by the way, I wasn’t expecting you up this early, and I always sleep in these for comfort. It’s just a habit of waking up, walking outside to have a smoke and coffee, and not realising someone might be around. I shall go and get dressed."
George nodded, understanding the feeling all too well. "It's a different life out here, but it's a good one if you let it be," he said. "There's a rhythm to the farm that's easy to get lost in and there’s no need to get dressed, you look fine the way you are. After all, we are two men enjoying a smoke and coffee."
Alex did not attempt to cover himself after George had suggested Alex looked fine the way he was standing there. Finishing his cigarette, Alex stubbed it out on the porch rail and turned to George. "So, what's the first order of business for the day?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with eagerness.
George clapped him on the back. "First things first, breakfast, and you can stay like that for now, I like the look. After breakfast, you will need to get dressed for the day ahead because I might become very distracted by the view if you don’t, and we would not want that, would we, as we feed the chickens?”
Breakfast over, George and Alex stepped out into the new day, Alex still having no awareness that George had watched his private moment on the porch.
Alex followed George to the coop, dressed for a day of demanding work on the farm, the dew-kissed grass cool under his shoes. As they approached, the chickens grew louder, sensing the impending feast.
George handed him a bucket of feed, and Alex stepped inside, the chickens clucking and fluttering around him. He began to scatter the grain, feeling a sense of purpose that had been missing from his life in the city. The hens pecked at his bare toes, and he could not help but laugh at their curiosity.
As they worked side by side, George began to tell him about the history of the farm, the trials, and triumphs of his life here. Alex listened intently, feeling a bond forming between them that went beyond employer and employee. They were becoming something more, two souls finding refuge in the quietude of rural life.
The following days melted into a routine that was both foreign and comforting. Alex learned to milk the cows with surprising dexterity, the rhythmic tug of the teats becoming almost meditative. He helped George with the crops, planting seeds that would later sprout into a bountiful harvest.
The evenings were spent in the house, sharing meals and stories. George spoke of his youth; of the love he had lost and the life he had built here. Alex listened to his past unfurling before him in the flickering candlelight. The farm owner's eyes grew softer as the nights grew longer, and the tension between them grew thicker. It was an unspoken dance, one that Alex found himself eager to learn the steps to.
One evening, as they sat on the porch watching the stars emerge, George finally asked the question that had been on his mind. "Alex, where did you get those nightshirts from? They are extremely revealing and must be city clothes, I think."
Alex chuckled, taking a sip of his beer, and shrugged his shoulders, his cheeks flushing slightly. "A shop in the city I used to frequent. They allow me the freedom to relax whilst they feel wonderfully soft on my body. Not your normal nightshirt I admit but they suit my personality and occasionally, folks find them sexy on me.”
George nodded thoughtfully, "They do look good on you, and they certainly do make you look sexy, too sexy especially when sporting a morning wood," he murmured. "Real good” whilst leaning closer. George's hand brushed against Alex's leg. "You know, I've been thinking," he began, his voice low and gruff. "This isn't just about the farm. It's about two men finding companionship in a world that can be cruel."
Alex nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know," he said. "And I'm happy to be here."
The next morning, Alex woke early, the sunlight peeking through the curtains as he walked downstairs to the kitchen. George was already up, the smell of bacon and eggs wafting from the kitchen. He looked up as Alex entered, his eyes travelling down the entire length of Alex’s nightshirt, enjoying the view of this man before meeting his gaze. There was a knowing smile on his face, one that Alex understood as desire.
They sat on the porch after breakfast, the sun casting long shadows across the farm. George leaned back in his chair, his eyes on the horizon as he spoke. "You know, Alex, I've been enjoying having you around here," he began, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths. "And I have to admit, I've taken quite a liking to those fancy nightshirts of yours."
Alex felt a warmth spread through him. He took a sip of his coffee, the heat of the liquid mirroring the blush on his cheeks. "I'm happy to wear them for you even during the day if that’s what you would like," laughing aloud at his silly offer.
George cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "It’s not such a silly offer for a young boy to make. Some fathers would feel appalled their sons might wear such things, but this daddy enjoys the view."
Alex's heart skipped a beat. He looked down at his attire, the fabric clinging to his body, leaving little to the imagination. He had worn them to tease, to test the waters, but he had not expected George to take the bait so quickly, and his reference to Daddy and son was quite a surprise, but not unwelcome, but strange all the same.
He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension.
"More than sure," George said with a nod. "You look so beautiful when you wear them and I can't deny, it's a nice view to have around the place. Sort of stirs the blood in my veins if that makes sense."
Alex felt a thrill run through him as he understood the undertone of George’s comments. His nightshirt stretching tightly over his growing erection, he took the coffee cups from the table and walked into the kitchen, his hips swaying slightly with each step. The tension in the air was thick, the silence between them charged with unspoken desires.
When Alex returned, George was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. The look in his eyes was one of hunger, a hunger that Alex found himself craving to satisfy. Alex took a step closer, his heart racing as George's hand reached out, the roughness of his calloused fingers brushing against the fabric of the shirt. He felt a jolt of electricity as the older man's hand swiped over the curve of his ass, the nightshirt tightening with the movement. The gesture was bold. It was as if George had been waiting for the right moment to make his intentions known.
The day on the farm had proved uneventful but fruitful. George and Alex had enjoyed the companionship, and George had especially enjoyed watching Alex beavering away whilst dressed in the nightshirt like a dress with a t-shirt on top. George could see the young man’s nipples and longed to pinch them whilst thinking about the younger man’s cock. He had seen Alex naked, but the young lad had no idea and was therefore oblivious to George’s desires and thirst.
They settled down to dinner as normal and then adjourned to the porch for some beers and relaxation. The quiet was broken when George spoke. "I think it's time we talked about the... other part of your job," George said, his eyes never leaving Alex's. "You know, the companionship part."
Alex nodded slowly, his heart racing. "I'm all ears," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Well, I'm a man who enjoys the company of other men, but I think you already know that," George began, his cheeks flushing slightly. "But I'm not looking for anything sexual. I am too old, I guess, and spent too long in denial, it’s just, I like to watch and to touch and to cuddle. Nothing more."
Alex felt a mix of relief and curiosity. "You mean, you like the company of men but don’t want the sexual side of it, preferring to settle for a cuddle or closeness?"
"Yes," George said with a sigh as if he had been holding his breath. "I enjoy the intimacy of it, without the need for... that. I also want to care for someone in a meaningful relationship. To tend for their every need and comfort in exchange for friendship and companionship."
They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the ticking of the antique clock on the mantle. Alex took a deep breath, the implications of what George was saying finally sinking in. It was different, but he had signed up for an open-minded experience and if George was happy just to watch and touch, then why not?
"Okay," Alex said finally, his voice a little shaky. "I can do that. Cuddles are more satisfying in their way."
George's face broke into a wide smile, and he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup Alex's cheek. "Thank you," he murmured, his thumb brushing against the stubble. "I promise, it'll just be us two, enjoying each other's company."
After their discussion on the porch, George told Alex that he was going into town to buy supplies in the morning, and George also reminded Alex that the housekeeper was due that day to clean and do the washing for them. A mature lady called Mrs Jenkins, and he warned Alex she was quite a serious woman who didn’t have much of a sense of humour, but she was reliable and extremely discreet, and she had been working as a housekeeper for a few years now, twice a week, organising his home life with order and control.
George had left early the next morning before his companion had woken. Alex had forgotten that Mrs Jenkins was coming as he sat on the porch taking in the sounds of country life. For the first time in many years, he felt comfortable as he sat there, naked having slipped his nightshirt off allowing it to drop onto the wooden decking of the porch, playing with his cock, gently rubbing the shaft in a moment of personal pleasure, his eyes closed as he edged ever closer to a climax.
In a world of his own, his peace was disturbed by the sound of a woman’s voice. “What on earth,” he heard first, followed by “What are you doing and why are you naked, young man? Where are your clothes and what are those on the deck?”
Shocked and embarrassed, Alex jumped up out of the chair, his cock losing its hardness but still impressive all the same, struggling to find the appropriate words.
All Alex could manage was, “It is my nightshirt on the decking, and you must be Mrs Jenkins, the housekeeper and clearly, I had forgotten you were coming today. I am so sorry, but I thought I would be alone with my thoughts and morning coffee.” Alex responded.
“You forgot, young man, and those are not an appropriate nightshirt to wear. Put something on to hide your body. Lucky you are not my son otherwise I would tan your backside for such inappropriate behaviour.” Mrs Jenkins replied.
Understanding the gravity of her words, Alex responded “Yes ma’am,” as Alex picked up the nightshirt and covered his manhood in a feeble attempt to recover from the situation and then darted upstairs, feeling unbelievably embarrassed.
Alex got dressed and came back downstairs to find Mrs Jenkins busy sorting out the laundry. “Sorry Mrs Jenkins, I didn’t mean to upset you, I just forgot you were coming.”
“Coming? I arrived just in time to stop you coming and wasting our Lord’s seed,” Mrs Jenkins snapped back to Alex.
“Really? You need a good thrashing,” she muttered whilst walking away.
George was not in town long and Alex was busy mucking out the chickens when he arrived back. Mrs Jenkins was already busy herself around the house and Alex reported to George that she was not happy and that an incident had occurred through no fault of his own. “Seriously George, I wasn’t doing anything much, I was just sitting on the porch enjoying a moment and she surprised me.”
“When you say, you weren’t doing anything much, what were you doing when she discovered you?”
“Well, I was taking advantage of being on my own and had started to play with myself, feeling a little horny in my nightshirt. In the heat of the moment, I had slipped the nightshirt off and was massaging my cock with the plan to cum and she caught me performing just before I was about to shoot my load. I am sure you can imagine the setting that greeted her.”
Laughing aloud, remembering the time he had spied on Alex, George remarked, “Makes sense why she reacted the way she did. She is a bit of a churchgoer as I guess you figured and personal seed should not be wasted according to the Good Book. Well, that is what she will tell you. I suggest in future you remember that and what days she comes to restore order in the house, otherwise you might get into more trouble than you expect. As for Mrs Jenkins, I suggested we allow her to be grumpy and to get over the incident. I will discuss it with her should she mention it.”
To be continued in Part Two
