We'd had no time to be alone for lovemaking on Tally's birthday, but the following day was different. At fifteen plus one, Tally was still high on the birthday feelings, and of course tonight we had cake. Chores and church, that was the only thing on today's agenda, or so I thought.

Granny had me drive to church in her Caddy, it drove like a dream but was definitely too large for my tastes. Everyone there seemed to know about Tally's birthday, and the greetings all made him smile. Even Reverend Layne came over and shook his hand; I guess they considered he was pretty grown up by now.

"In the words God gave us to live by it says, 'Love thy neighbor as thee would love thyself.' That's pretty clear and yet we have such turmoil in this world. For despite the guidance we receive in the Good Book mankind seeks to serve its own selfish ends ... "

OK, the Reverend was on a roll this morning. I bet he stayed up late throughout the week thinking about the sermon he would give us the following Sunday. The people sitting here were not world leaders and I bet some of them didn't even bother to vote, I hadn't been given the opportunity myself.

So what inspired him to speak of worldly things to a bunch of farmers? His position in the community was that of spiritual advisor, but I suppose he also felt that discussing other matters was just as important. I looked down the row past Tally and realized I'd never discussed politics or world events with the family.

My own interest had withered once I had graduated. Away from the discussions of current events in class I'd had no need to keep up. I was aware of the fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan, the terrorist threat to our country and the problems the President faced from his critics, but it didn't affect me personally.

I knew that would all have to change, Tally would be back in school in less than sixty days and I was his self appointed tutor. Great, it would be like going through ninth grade all over again. I'd hated ninth grade the first time around, why would this be any different? Tally would face the same academic and social pressures I had; at least he had me to guide him. But what if they found out he was gay?

I couldn't go storming into that school to kick some bully's ass for beating on my boyfriend. OK, Tally wasn't a wimp; he had courage and strength, but could he defend himself? I was no trained expert but I could kick some ass if needed, and I had for Stan's sake.

Stan and I had become friends when we first met in sixth grade. There was just something about the flashy little guy that appealed to me. I was mentally aware of Stan, and not because I was attracted to his long hair and beautiful face, he was the competition, academically speaking.

Mrs. Dean, our teacher, was well aware of Stan's abilities as a student. He would get the ninety seven on a quiz; I would pull off a ninety four. We stayed neck and neck throughout the year and for the most part I was glad to hold down second place. It followed through that we were equal in our math and science work as well.

It seemed inevitable that we would spend time together the summer after we left elementary school. We would go to the movies together or hang out at the drugstore. Stan wasn't athletic or even very coordinated at that age but he did come to my Little League baseball games to watch me hit home runs, but that didn't happen frequently.

In all he was a great kid to pal around with, and then I had my first sleepover at his house. He had this big bed in the basement and we stayed up late watching horror movies on television, my favorite not his. Lying on the bed in our boxers I became aware of Stan looking at me differently.

Up until that time I had not been very physical with him, he just didn't seem like the type. So when he swatted my butt and ran to escape I was after him in flash. We ended up on the bed once again with me sitting on top, pinning Stan's arms to the mattress. It only took me a second to feel something hard pressing up against my butt.

His erection spurred my own and he looked up at me with a grin. I was all sexed up, a popular term of the day, but it expressed the feelings we both shared. I had never experienced an orgasm until Stan's hand showed me how. I didn't even resist as he stroked me into oblivion, it was something I desired without knowing why.

Life after that was filled with stolen moments for sex. His basement, the cemetery, and even the dugout at the ball field after dark, the feelings kept us doing it, and then I started to make cum.

It was a revelation the first time my orgasm transformed itself into something that produced real results. I was overwhelmed, Stan was ecstatic. At thirteen I could tell myself I was finally a man, that only thrilled Stan even further, but as yet I had no idea why.

My sperm production gave Stan the courage to take our sex another step further; he gave me my first blow job. I remember the event, which was the night I almost broke my arm. We had been playing naked games in his basement all week long, the feeling his hand gave my cock becoming increasingly wonderful.

His father had a chinning bar fixed between two beams and I always tried to see how many times I could pull my developing body up before I had to let go. Of course Stan just couldn't watch, he did things to make me laugh or shock me, like sticking his tongue in my belly button. That always gave me an erection which made it harder to concentrate on the exercise.

But that night he pulled my shorts down and grabbed my cock, I screamed in mock horror and then Stan took it further. When I suddenly realized his mouth was wrapped around my cock I let go of the bar. Off balance, I slammed to the floor and felt my arm hit the corner of the coffee table. The pain was incredible and I screamed, which brought Mr. Beale down stairs to investigate. Thankfully Stan had yanked my shorts up and Mr. Beale drove me to the emergency room for an X-ray.

I had a nasty bruise for days, no break, but I was still stunned at what Stan had done. When we finally had a moment alone I asserted myself, what had he been trying to do?

"It was meant to be a blow job, you do know what that is, don't you?" Stan asked.

Of course I did, all boys looked forward to some girl giving them that first experience, but this was my friend Stan. I didn't think a boy was interested in doing stuff like that, it seemed pretty queer. But I wasn't about to judge Stan and label him queer, after all we'd been jerking off together for almost a year by then. I asked him why he'd done it.

"Because you'll like it." No doubt I would.

Or I probably would ... if I could get past the idea of having a boy do it to me. What brought me to the point of acceptance was the way Stan felt so confident I would love the feeling, and the number sixty-nine.

Our jerk off games had become mutual almost immediately after we first started. That called for ingenuity in positioning ourselves for the activity. Head to head our bodies got tired, limbs got in the way and hands couldn't find a comfortable angle. Head to toe seemed like the only reasonable response, and it worked for a while.

But although I enjoyed watching what my hand did to Stan's cock he seemed to have other ideas. My crotch now had hair, not many but enough to make me look different than him. I could see a few hairs growing at the base of his cock and felt a little excitement at the view knowing that soon he would be squirting manly sperms.

I was squirting every time we masturbated ... not much but enough to leave traces on Stan's hand and a smile on my face. Then we had the falling down night and the sleepover the following evening. And even as we got fired up and lay on the bed in our sixty-nine position, I knew Stan was going to put his mouth on my cock again ... I wanted him to.

His hand grasped my cock and I held my breath, giving off a groan of delight as I felt the heat of his mouth slide over me. Neither of us was sure how a blow job was supposed to work, but Stan knew better than to rake me with his teeth. He wiggled his tongue on the head of my cock and I almost shot through the roof.

He was working on instinct alone so it was probably good that he was the smartest kid in school. For my money he was also the best cock sucker. The simple slide of his lips up and down my cock sent shivers through my body. He told me later that I gasped and groaned so much he thought I was in pain.

I almost screamed when I felt this rush of warmth spread from my crotch up through my cock and pulse in Stan's mouth. I'd never cum like that, it was the most incredible feeling I'd ever felt. I had to pull away from Stan's mouth, as it seemed he wasn't about to stop. I lay there gasping and Stan was silent, then I realized I had done nothing for him.

I don't know why, maybe it was because I was always second to him in everything, but I gave Stan a blow job right then and there. I knew he couldn't cum; I wasn't ready to deal with that. It felt like the right thing to do so I leaned in and took his cock in my mouth.

No ejaculation meant multiple orgasms, and Stan had three before my mouth got tired. He was grateful and I was worn out, we fell asleep and I remember the warmth of Stan's head on my chest. In time Stan was able to produce sperms, and I soon learned to like the taste of it. But that was as far as we went; it was enough to keep us happy all the way into the ninth grade.

I was a skinny yet muscular kid, Stan was smaller but still quite fit. I was greatly familiar with his body by the time we reached high school. But like most fifteen year olds I looked at other boys with curiosity, especially when they were naked. Being the String Bean in gym class, as Stan would later dub me; I attracted attention and dealt with the good natured ribbing about my body when we showered.

But there were moments when it seemed Stan was looking at me oddly and when I caught him I would smile. I had no idea what he was thinking at the time, his glances just made me feel good. But since the lockers were assigned alphabetically, his Beale to my Parsons meant we weren't near one another as we changed. Unfortunately Billy Carver was assigned the locker next to Stan.

Billy was a tough guy, or so he thought. He was my height but had me by about thirty pounds, he was average in looks and I never gave him much thought, but Stan did. Maybe it was that inner feeling Stan had but he tried to be nice to Billy and it backfired.

Being an adolescent with physical development still underway I looked at cocks, Stan's was quite familiar already. Stan was a slow developer, not that he was hairless as a baby, but he was a lot less furry than Billy. That's where it all started, Billy had to make something of it to feel superior, something he was not.

I heard the little comments. Billy calling Stan "little boy" and "baby butt," even suggestions that he needed to have his diaper changed. It was harmless and Stan ignored it at first, but it called his attention towards Billy whenever he was around. I suppose if Stan had been changing next to me he would have glanced at my cock, he must have done that one too many times with Billy.

"What you lookin at fag?" was the comment that echoed around the locker room one afternoon. There was a row of lockers between me and them but I immediately knew who Billy was talking about. Knowing Stan he probably tried to ignore the slur and all that did was serve Billy's purpose.

I heard something hit the row of lockers and some catcalls from other boys; I dropped my shoes and walked around the row to investigate. Stan was rubbing a bump on his head; Billy had shoved him head first into the lockers.

"Keep your eyes to yourself, fag boy," Billy yelled. He had an audience, something his ego demanded. I watched him shove Stan out of the way and take off out of the locker room. I stood there wondering what I was going to do about this, and then Stan looked up at me with tears in his eyes.

We had become the best of friends and I felt empathy towards Stan. Together we were the smart ones in all our classes; it gave me warm feelings about him, feelings I didn't understand. The sex we shared had forged a bond, I knew what we were doing was beyond what other boys did during sexual discovery. I just couldn't put a name to it.

I retrieved my shoes and followed Stan out of the locker room and down the hall. P.E. was our last period of the day, and we both scrambled to our lockers to pick up our back packs and get to the bus stop on time.

I happened to glance up as I came out of the building and saw Stan confronted by Billy, with several of his friends in attendance. It wasn't fair, Stan had no one to stand up with him and so I walked over just as Billy gave Stan a sucker punch in the stomach. His cronies laughed until I swung my backpack full of books at Billy's head, knocking him off his feet.

"Come on shit head," I taunted. "Get up and fight me like a man."

Billy did scramble to his feet and the first punch he threw went wild, I battered his face until he went down again ... he should have stayed there. His friends might have jumped in except that there was a crowd gathering and that meant teachers were on the way too. Billy got up and came at me, what he got was a dislocated shoulder and a knee to his crotch ... fight over.

I was suspended for three days, something that angered my father until I explained myself. His reaction was to storm the school and demand the principal apologize to me. I don't think Mr. Raines was prepared to deal with that confrontation; he apologized and then was promptly out sick for a week.

I was a hero to some but I brushed it off. I knew Stan was terminally embarrassed and I would do nothing to increase that feeling. It turned out that he was grateful and words alone could not express his feelings. We continued to sleep together and the sex was all apart of what we shared. But I had seen Stan vulnerable and that only brought him closer to my heart.

I'm not sure exactly when I figured it all out, but when I did I had to tell him. My words only brought a smile to his face and our very first kiss.

"Stan ... I love you," I blurted out.

"I know, I've known for a long time, but you're not gay," Stan said. "And I am."

It was a momentary shock but it made all my thoughts coalesce, of course, that was the answer. Stan's admission fit right into place with what I thought of him, he was gay ... I knew that.

"Then I love a gay boy." That was my response, and he kissed me long and hard. It was the beginning of my own doubts, was I gay too?

We argued the point for months and in all that time Stan never pushed me to make the decision. I could be straight and love him, he accepted that. But maybe I was in the middle by choice, being gay was incredibly hard. And then we met Freddy.

I was happy to watch their relationship develop, doing what I could to ease it along into a major love affair. I didn't think I was envious, or even jealous as my sexual activity with Stan ended. He began sleeping with Freddy as he should. No, I wasn't ready to commit and Stan needed a commitment, Freddy provided that. And now I had Tally.

"Blessed be those who give of themselves for the sake of love, it is truly the way of our Christ and Savior. For even Jesus knew he loved those who hated him. I ask you, can we be any less to one another knowing that God wants us to forgive our trespassers?

"The symbolism of Jesus on the cross, surrounded by thieves and murderers who were executed that blessed day tells us what we should think. For even as he suffered for our redemption he forgave those who suffered around him. His goal was to save the world and he began with those poor men hanging beside him.

"One tortured soul at a time, thus a church was built for the everlasting glory of God. Go home with your families and think of the majesty in his plan. Love thy neighbor and be kind to him who would do you wrong. There is strength in love, strength that not even the devil may overcome. Go home with God in your heart. Amen"

"Amen," we all responded. Again my thoughts had kept his message from reaching out to me, but I had caught the meaning in those few words. Give of myself for the sake of love, I was doing that. It was more than my love for Tally; I was giving myself to that entire family.

The gathering in the parking lot was congenial; Tally and I stood with the family and watched the others being sociable. Reverend Layne stopped next to Granny and asked why Rick had chosen not to attend.

"He wasn't feeling well, Reverend. He was a bit off color this morning," Granny said.

Tally and I turned and ran for the trees, bursting out laughing once we were away from the others. No one was supposed to say anything about Rick, Jim had made that quite clear. I was amazed, Granny had done it all with such a straight face.

"We're headed for the corn field straight away when we get home," Tally said.

"Oh? OK, got something on your mind?" I asked.

"Yes ... you," Tally laughed. "I'm so horny I could bust, we didn't do it yesterday."

"Well then I suppose we better or you'll mess your pants, what will Jim think?"

"I volunteered us to check the ponds. He wants to water again starting tomorrow."

His level of lust was apparent as we got back from church and changed into our work clothes. I was just like him now, overalls with nothing on underneath. It allowed my skin to breathe and the sweat to evaporate; it also encouraged Tally to grope me when no one was around.

We went downstairs and ran straight in to Jim. "Check the water levels, you know where the markers are," He told Tally. "Also take a look at the dike on the north pond, don't drive on it, get out and walk. It was weak this past spring when we had all that rain. If we have to drain the pond and rebuild it we will, but I'd like to wait until the corn is in, that's a big chore."

So the ponds were just another man made tool, I'd thought so. It was just too convenient that where they needed water there happened to be all these little ponds. Now I knew they'd been built, probably by Tally's grandfather. Tally started for the door and Jim called him back.

"Take the truck; you're old enough to drive." And with that he handed Tally the keys. What fifteen year old boy could resist driving a truck, especially his daddy's? Half a dozen miles on the county road didn't seem like much of a risk especially since Tally had done it on the tractor so many times, the truck ought to be safer.

Tally looked both ways when we got to the end of the driveway, then he looked at me.

"You OK with me behind the wheel?" Tally asked.

"Of course, I feel perfectly safe," I replied.

Tally grinned and hit the gas. We chirped out onto the asphalt and sped down the road towards the north fields. Even when he hit forty Tally was in total control and paying attention to the mirrors. He slowed down and made the turn in that I still couldn't see, and I knew it was there. We drove the narrow gap between fields and felt the tires give a little in the soft ground.

Finally we made it to the pond area and Tally stopped. "Whoa, it's really low," He said. We got out and walked around the edge until we got to the high side and the reason for the low water was apparent, the dike was leaking badly.

"Damn, this is a week's work easy," Tally said.

"Jim said we might have to rebuild it, but how is that possible?" I asked.

"The pond has a drain; in fact you can see the pipe sticking up out there already. We fish out the plug and the water flows out. Two things bad about that, it floods the corn down there and we lose about six acres, then we'll lose more when they bring the bulldozer in here."

"You guys have a bulldozer?"

"No, but Darryl does ... the guy with the bull."

I laughed. "Does Darryl do anything besides rent out bulls and bulldoze people's problems away?"

"No, not much ... that pretty well sums him up," Tally said. "He's also a drunk."

I shook my head. Having to deal with Darryl didn't sound like a good idea, except that the dike was leaking like hell. We walked towards the area of the leak and felt the ground get softer under our boots.

"We better stop here, the ground might cave in," Tally suggested.

Too late, the soil started to slide and we went with it. Tally fell and I grabbed him, bringing us both down in the mud. The motion stopped only when we got to the bottom, now we both looked like mud puppies and I started to laugh.

"Fucking hell," Tally squawked, shaking the mud off his arms and legs.

I was still laughing when he jumped on me, rolling the both of us in the silty soil. If anything I felt a sudden kinship with the pigs in their sty, it was hilarious. Tally finally gave in to the laughter, wiping the brown crud from his face.

"OK, and now I have to drive us back, dad will be pissed when he sees the mud in his truck," Tally said.

"So we rinse off first, might be fun," I suggested.

We trudged up the dike and walked back around until we were close to the truck. Off came the boots and overalls, we were both a mess. The pond water wasn't that deep and I felt the mud ooze up between my toes as I splashed water over my head. Tally and I watched each other and that did it, we both got hard.

He virtually dragged me from the pond and pushed me up against the truck, smothering my face with kisses. He was hot and that meant he was goin for it anyway he wanted. I loved it when he got assertive like this, there was nothing to do but enjoy the ride.

Tally's tongue was down my throat, his hands grasping at my cock as I felt his pushing between my legs. He let go of my cock and yanked open the passenger door of the pickup.

"On your back, legs up," Tally commanded, and I scooted my butt up onto the seat.

Tally helped raise my legs and I braced my feet on the roof of the cab. He was all over my cock and balls, lifting them up and plunging his face right in my butt crack. Oh God, he hadn't fucked me in days and I was ripe for the moment.

My butt was coated in his saliva as he stood up on the door sill and leaned down, aiming his cock at my anus. He leaned forward and I relaxed as he slid into me.

"Oh God ... yes ... yes," Tally said as he started pushing ever deeper. His cock felt longer, fatter, stronger ... and even if it was my imagination I was overwhelmed buy his demanding presence.

He leaned down and laced his fingers behind my neck, pulling against me and seating his cock firmly, I could feel his balls slap against my butt. And then he went to town ... slowly, with deep casual thrusts. I was ready to be ravaged and he had taken the opposite tack, going slow meant he would be at it forever.

But this was all Tally's way of heating me up, and it was working. He swung his head side to side, whipping me with his long hair and giggling in the process when that brought a groan of passion from my lips. He ground his hips, reaming my butt and making me well and truly fucked.

Of course he would groan his way into a mighty orgasm, but for the moment he seemed to be feeling me out, catering to my needs. God, I loved this boy and what he did for me. He pulled back a bit and rubbed the head of his cock on my prostate, sending shudders through my body. I saw him smile, he was playing me and I was ready to sing whatever song he wanted.

The thrusting eventually picked up speed, which was Tally giving in to the sensations surrounding his cock. I felt him tremble and he gasped for breath as he tried to hold off the flood, but to no avail.

"Aw ... fuck, oh yes," Tally gasped and I got that deep groan from his throat that always signaled his orgasm. He leaned down to bite my left nipple and then he flooded me with his seed. I was ecstatic as he kept rubbing in and out; trying to keep himself hard for me but it was a lost cause. Changing course he pulled out and went for my cock.

It took all of thirty seconds of his vacuum sealed mouth on my cock before I exploded, almost screaming with the pleasure. My legs were cramped, I couldn't move but I sure could cum. Tally gulped the proceeds of my offering and sucked hard for more. Then we both collapsed.

"Tally ... pull my legs down, I'm stuck," I groaned.

His hands grasped my ankles and he slowly lowered my legs, allowing the blood to flow back. I lay back on the seat and he stared down at me.

"God you're a good fuck," He said.

"The best you ever had?" I asked.

Tally grinned. "Maybe."

"Besides Jerry, did you ever have another boy kiss you," I asked.

Tally blushed and so I guess the answer was yes. "I told you, there were a few guys off the river that did things with me, mostly they gave me head and I returned the favor on a few of them. Mostly the college boys, the older guys didn't impress me."

"Jeez, Tally ... how many guys were there?"

"Um ... six or seven, but only one of them ever kissed me. But nobody kisses like you do."

"Six or seven blow jobs, wow ... "

"I wouldn't ... I couldn't let them fuck me. I wanted to know what it was like, but something scared me off. They didn't care about me like you did, I woulda got hurt."

"I'm glad I was your first, that was very special," I said.

"You fucked that Charlie guy ... was he special?"

I nodded. "Yes, it was special only because he was the first. He taught me to be patient; otherwise I might have hurt you too."

"So I'm really your second boy," Tally said.

"No Tally, you'll always be the first. I loved Charlie but I didn't know what that meant, I think maybe I just loved him for the sex. I didn't know what it meant to really love someone until I met you."

Tally smiled. "You always know how to say the right things, wish I did."

"Baby, to be right you don't even have to say a thing."

And that was the right thing to say, for Tally leaned down and sucked the tongue right out of my mouth. But then he gasped.

"Oh God, we don't have any clothes to wear."

I laughed, he was right. We were naked and the overalls were trashed and muddy. Jim would kill us if we wore them in the truck. It would take hours for them to dry out, what a mess.

"Got any pants stashed in the barn?" I asked.

"No ... Shit, what are we gonna do?"

"Go home naked I guess ... what else can we do?" I asked.

"Oh ... we'll never hear the end of this, you know that," Tally groaned.

"We were just doin our job, stuff happens, just like your dad says."

"Yeah ... but not this."

Tally drove us through the corn field and as we went it suddenly got funny. We were both in hysterics by the time we got to the road.

"Oh look, it's the Reverend, hey Reverend, got any pants?" That did it. Tally put the truck in park and we laughed it all out. It was all a joke, if we had run into the reverend I imagine he might have been helpful ... but no such luck.

Finally Tally was back in control and we drove the highway, fortunately no one paid attention to us, just two boys without shirts. But then we came to the driveway and rolled up beside the barn. We sat, wondering what to do next. Jim spooked me when he came out the side door and walked over to the truck.

"So what did you boys ... ?" And he stopped, looking down at Tally's naked body. I at least had covered my crotch. He smiled. "This I gotta hear."

"The pond was low, the dike caved in, we got all muddy ... and this is your new truck." That was all Tally had to say and Jim nodded.

"Well thank you for that; let me go get you some pants." And with that he stripped off his shirt and threw it to me. I heard him laughing as he strode across the yard towards the house. I quickly donned the shirt and pulled it down, it barely covered my parts.

Brad rode by on the small tractor and stopped, reversing to give us a second look. Tally groaned as Brad climbed down and approached.

"Brad, give me your shirt," Tally pleaded.

"Why what ... .what the hell?" He started laughing.

"The shirt ... please?" Tally asked.

Brad stripped off his shirt and handed it over, laughing the whole time, fortunately Jim returned with some overalls. As Tally and I got dressed we told them both what had happened, omitting the part where Tally reamed me out.

"Damn, there goes the week," Jim said, and he was right.

Of course everyone heard about our naked adventures at supper, Granny smiled knowing full well we'd enjoyed being naked together. We had the cake after supper and Tally beamed as we sang him the birthday song. The family made light of our little adventure, even Rick wasn't about to kid us too far, it all might happen to any of them one day soon. And thus began the busiest week I'd ever experienced.

Monday we fished out the chain to the plug in the pond and pulled it. Within an hour the lower field was flooded and Jim pretty much knew there was six acres of corn gone to hell. The pond took all day to empty and then it needed to dry out a bit, so they arranged for Darryl to come over on Thursday.

Brad and Paulo started mowing hay and Tally began to sneeze just like Granny had said he would. By nightfall Tally could hardly breathe and we dosed him with pills. By nine o'clock he was fast asleep. That's when Jim pulled me aside for a chat.

"Think you can run that small tractor with a rake behind it?"

"I never tried ... doesn't Tally usually do that?" I asked.

"Yes, but he suffers for doin it too. Last year I got him a mask but that didn't help much, the pollen dust off the hay is too fine. Would you like to try?" he asked.

"Yes sir, I want to pull my weight," I said.

"I know you do. You'll have to wear a long sleeve shirt and I'll get you a hat, the sun will burn you to a crisp out there."

And he wasn't kidding, by Wednesday afternoon I was hurting. I was covered in sweat and dust, the shirt itched like hell and my eyes were bloodshot behind the goggles he gave me. I don't know how Tally did it, but then he was just doing his job.

Once the initial dose of medicine took effect Tally worked out in the barns, staying away from the hay operations. But by Thursday he was over at the pond watching Darryl and the bulldozer, I was still on that damn little tractor in the hay.

I knew we would get separated during the work day, but not for the whole damn day. By nightfall my butt was sore as hell and a hot bath seemed to be all I could think of. My muscles ached, the tractor rattled and shook across the field, jolting every bone in my body and straining the muscles I needed to steer. I was a mess.

It was almost dark when I drove in, following Brad in the big green monster. I headed straight for the bath tub to get the dust out of my head and Tally brought me a plate of food. I had never eaten in a tub before, but he made it work.

Tally knew what the strain was doing to me in his old job and thus he was the most sympathetic person in the house. Fortunately the others didn't question me, maybe my dire look held them off. But Tally fed me bites of food as I washed; it was almost romantic except I was in pain.

I finally rose from the tub and groaned at the effort. There was no doubt in my head; I was going straight to bed. Tally helped me dry off as I could barely bend over to reach my toes. And then he left the room as I slid into my boxers. I staggered down the hall to the bedroom and dropped on my bed. Tally was back a minute later with a bottle in his hand and he closed the door.

"I got some liniment, it really helps."

"I'm crippled for life, how can I go back out there tomorrow?" I said. I was close to tears because I felt like a failure.

Tally sat down beside me and smiled. "Everyone knows how hard you work; you do it better than me."

"No I don't, I'm not strong enough," I mumbled.

"Yes you are, it just takes getting used to. You haven't used these muscles like this before, it will get better. Tomorrow Paulo will rake, Dad said so."

"I can't just stop and take a day off, Tally."

"No, you'll do other things like me; you'll feel better in the morning."

And he opened the bottle, spreading the cool liquid out across my back and shoulders. The smell was overpowering at first but finally faded as I absorbed the liquid. And that's when I learned how strong my Tally really was as his hands rubbed the soreness right out of my body. I had never felt Tally be anything but gentle, tonight was different.

His fingers seemed to reach right through my skin to the ache and I groaned so loud anyone listening might think he was killing me, and he was. Those hands created a different pain and I suddenly realized my body was on fire.

The liniment was cool at first and with rubbing built up an extreme heat; I knew my skin was aflame. But it wasn't and Tally assured me it was all for the best. Under different circumstances having him rub me from head to toe would have created tremendous passion, but instead I felt helpless to move.

On and on he worked my muscles until the heat ebbed and a tide of relief washed over me. I never knew he had such patience, this was an extreme display of his love and I was going to be forever grateful. And my mind knew I wanted to say I loved him for this but the words just wouldn't come out as I drifted off to sleep.

And sometime in the night I awoke to the feel of his body next to mine, and I cried. God help me, this was all I ever wanted. To feel his warmth beside me was all I needed to live. And I sobbed with the joy of his being; just knowing he was mine assured me I could overcome anything.

And as if sensing my need Tally cuddled up closer as I wept in the darkness. I wasn't alone in this world; I would never feel that way again. This boy ... this wonderful young man was all the strength I needed. Thank you Lord, I am truly blessed. It was the first prayer I had uttered in a decade, I had a feeling it would not be the last.

True to what Tally had said, I did feel better in the morning, but still wretchedly sore. Granny gave me a large glass of juice and the sugar rush carried me out the door into the heat of another dark July morning. I helped with the milking, moving slow but trying to be consistent with the cows.

In these few weeks I had come to know some of them, for even cows had personalities. I still swear they smiled at me but Jim laughed it off as silly, Tally didn't. Maybe we both had the kind of creative imagination Jim lacked; somehow I wanted smiling cows around me. But not old Rita, she was on the verge of stopping her milk.

Not all the cows had names, I would never have learned them all anyway, but Rita was made obvious by her markings. The Holstein cows were fairly uniform in color, black and white with various patterns all over their bodies. They were the big guys too, some of them weighing in at fifteen hundred pounds Jim said, a warning that I was but a tiny step away from danger around them.

The dusty brown colored cows were of the Jersey variety, prized for the high quality of their milk. Rita was one of them and she had a distinctive white patch across her face. They were a small breed, two thirds the size of the Holsteins and a lot more friendly. Rita liked affection, offering her head for a scratch as she came into the milking pens.

But Jim said she was going to lose her milk very soon and that would give her a personality change as well, I had to take his word for it. Still she seemed to favor me and I scratched her ears before hooking her up to take milk. Tally called her my girlfriend, and because I was familiar with her I quickly noticed the change, she almost head butted me this morning.

I moved back from the gate and Rita refused to go inside the pen, but her head had almost swiped my hip, and with a thousand pounds of cow behind that move I would have been hurting.

"Jim," I yelled, "Rita's on the outs."

Twice she balked at entering the pen and her flank slammed against the gate behind which I stood waiting. Jim slapped the cow he was working on and she wandered off down the hall towards the door, then he came for Rita.

"Her udders don't look full at all, let's give her the day and see if she fills up," Jim said. He leaned over the rails and tapped her head, she backed away, he tapped again and she backed out of the stall. He slapped her flank and she trotted down the hall and out the back door. It was amazing, Jim knew exactly what to do to motivate her ... my first lesson in cow psychology.

"Poor old girl, she'll be out to pasture before long," Jim said, and then he turned to let in the next cow.

I knew what he meant; Rita might be sold for hamburger very soon. I had taken some interest in the breeding of the herd; it was all a part of understanding how the dairy business worked. A quarter of the herd was either pregnant or had just given birth this past spring. The number of calves attended by mothers seemed to confirm that.

Each dairy cow had to give birth to begin the production of milk; a calf would get most of it during that first year's cycle. But then the ladies would be milked until production ceased, then they were off to the slaughter house as their offspring took their place. It was a cold reality, but this was a business. Maybe that's why Jim didn't see them smile, he didn't want to.

Tally had said that cows were bread for the milk and babies; he didn't get too attached either. Cows and pigs were not pets to a farm boy; they were a necessity of life. My city boy attitude understood that way of thinking, but they still smiled at me.

Brad was down keeping an eye on Darryl, someone that I had yet to meet. But after breakfast we rode down to take a look at the new dike they were building, Jim drove us this time. We could hear the thunder of a large diesel engine long before we left the cornfield. I could see the tracks the bulldozer had made through the field, another bunch of corn gone to waste.

The big Cat dozer had torn down the old dike about halfway and we were there to reseat the drain before Darryl built it back up, it meant a little shovel work for my sore muscles. The man on the dozer stopped when he saw us and he climbed down to shake Jim's hand.

Darryl Hooks was a country boy poster child, he had that long stringy mullet hairstyle and a huge pair of dark sunglasses, the only thing missing was the can of beer in his hand, which would probably come later. I imagined he was making good money for the work, bulldozers weren't cheap and this one looked fairly new.

I stood back as Darryl explained the reason he thought the dike had failed, poor soil he said. Tally and I had slid down in that muddy crap and so Darryl suggested that Jim get some better stuff trucked in. I knew Jim could see the dollar signs; buying soil was like burning money when there was a farm covered in the stuff. But tilled land was the wrong material, Darryl suggested rockier soil, and of course he knew just the place to get it.

Buying soil from a quarry could get expensive at maybe a thousand dollars a truckload, and they needed twenty loads, about two hundred forty cubic yards Darryl guessed to undercut all that silty mess. Twenty thousand dollars plus Darryl's fees, I could see Jim weighing the cost in his head.

Tally and I walked over to look at the drain pipe we would have to reset.

"Guess the profit just went out of this year's crop?" I asked.

"Some I guess, I don't pay that much attention to what Dad does with the money. But we have insurance on the ponds, guess that will help. Jeez, look at that mess," Tally said.

"I'm wearing boxers today, not gonna go home naked again," I said.

"Yeah, once is enough," Tally said.

"Look ... thank you for last night; you really made me feel better."

"You're welcome. I know what you went through, that's one of the worst jobs we have and you did it to cover my ass. The wheat is just as dusty but less work for us, the corn is a different matter, depends on how much Dad plans to sell."

Jim and Darryl had finished their negotiations so Tally and I got out of the way as the dozer went back to work. We stood beside Jim as Darryl began to tilt the blade enough to cut a long groove in the flat plane of the dike.

"He's going to cut a keyway so the new soil will slot into the stuff below and keep the dike from sliding apart," Jim explained. I thought he would be unhappy but he was smiling.

"This is gonna be expensive, isn't it Dad," Tally asked.

Jim nodded. "Yeah, but what insurance won't cover I can write off in taxes, a win for us, we get a new pond for a whole lot less than you might think."

Our shovel work was off for the day, the new soil wouldn't start trucking in until tomorrow. Jim drove us back to the house and parked beside the barn. Brad and Paulo were working on detaching the mower head on the tractor, Miguel was tending Granny's garden and Rick and Barry were off rebuilding the pig pens, everyone was busy except us.

Jim smiled. "Why don't you guys take Evan's Jeep and go inspect the south pond. No hurry, you got all day ... I'd take some fishing poles if I were you, Granny might like some nice bass if you catch any."

"Really? Wow," Tally said, and he gave his father a hug. We'd been given the day off.

I had watched father and son over the past several weeks; Tally had a whole lot more going on with his dad than I had with mine. But they worked together; the bond was strongest when they could depend upon one another. No wonder Tally had such strength of character; his father had forged that with hard work and affection.

I'd never seen this pond which was tucked away at the far end of the property surrounded by corn and old growth trees. Being the furthest from the river I didn't know how water even got to it. Tally took some poles from where they hung under the eves of the equipment shed while I went in to fix us some sandwiches.

"Where you headed?" Granny asked.

"South pond ... never saw it before," I said, proceeding to make a couple of ham sandwiches.

Granny smiled. "Jessie's fishin hole, that's what it is. He made sure to keep the fish stocked up in there; Jim added some more couple years ago, they ought to be fat and ready this year. You best take some towels too; I know Tally loves to swim there. Cold as the dickens year round from all those springs."

"OK, maybe we'll have some fish to fry for supper. We're canning tomorrow, right?" I asked.

"Yes, Miguel is out pickin tomatoes right now, we ought to have a fine batch this time."

I went upstairs to fetch a couple of towels, and then returned for my basket of sandwiches and the jug of tea.

"Here, take this with you and give it to Tally," Granny said, handing me a young red rosebud.

"What's this for?" I asked, and she smiled.

"Jessie is buried up there, it's for his gravestone."

I was pretty sober as I slid into the Jeep beside Tally and handed him the rose. The fishing poles were sticking out the back and I lay our lunch and the towels on the back seat.

"I didn't know your grandfather was buried up there."

"Yeah, it was his favorite place on the whole farm ... it's really nice there," Tally said, looking down at the rosebud in his hands. "Granny always sends him flowers."

I drove the road towards Indian Rocks, passing the rows of corn in the south quadrant of the farm. As usual, Tally had me slow down and then turn into a lane at the end of the field. I drove past row after row, about a half mile off the road, and then I saw the tree line ahead beyond the corn.

I could see why this place was special. On one side of the huge elliptical shaped pond were the tall old growth trees, on the other corn. At one end stood a jumble of boulders, and a stream emerged here, flowing into the pond from the deep shadow of the trees. A lone willow tree stood there, it's branches dipping into the pond and beside it stood the gravestone.

The setting was idyllic, and as we stopped to park in the shade of the forest I could see fish jumping to snatch the summer flies out of the air.

"Wow ... beautiful," I said.

"I knew you'd like it, Grandpa used to bring me here. Sometimes it makes me sad to see that grave, but he was so happy here, I can't stay sad for long."

We walked to the grave and I saw the lines carved in the stone, and I read.

"You're named after your grandfather, you never told me that."

Tally smiled as he laid the rose on the stone. "That's why I still feel a part of him, always will."

I gave him a hug as we felt the afternoon breeze sweep through the branches of the willow; I had always felt these trees were somehow sad, but that feeling wasn't with me today. I could understand now, Tally was bound by more than a name to his ancestry; this place lived in his heart.

We sat in the shade of the tall trees, a place where Tally told me the fish couldn't see our shadows on the water and thus get spooked. The thought had never occurred to me and I had been fishing for years. Tally baited our hooks with bits of bread and propped his pole up in the five gallon bucket that he'd brought, sure that we would catch a lot of fish for our supper.

The breeze out from the trees at our back was most welcome, and soon we stripped off and lay back on the towels, but not for long. The bucket fell over, signaling a bite on the line and Tally reached for his pole. The first bass was all of three pounds and Tally threw it back, assuring me we could do better. But there we were fishermen now, and sat up to pay attention.

In two hours we caught fifteen fish, half of them too small to keep, but seven were great big six to eight pound keepers. Tally laid his towel beside mine and we both lay back to enjoy the shade.

"Granny says you swim here," I said.

"Yeah ... a bit, have you touched that water yet? The surface is OK, but you go down three feet and it's freezing, even this time of year. Dad said they used to skate on the ice here in winter, but it hasn't frozen over in a bunch of years."

"I rather like my balls nice and warm, think I'll pass on the swim," I said.

Tally laughed. "I kinda like your balls all nice and warm."

"I haven't thanked you properly for last night. Usually when someone touches me like that I get horny, I was too far gone for that last night ... but now ... "

I needed to love him and Tally was more than willing to agree. Being his lover under the wide blue sky was something I would never cease doing. And as he rode my lap I looked up at him, in awe of the vision. For Tally was a pure golden boy, his hair bright and shining in the late afternoon sun.

His body was changing, I could see the signs. The dust of blonde fuzz on his lip, the small tufts that had begun to grow under his arms ... he was headed for manhood. And what better place to view his beauty than from below, looking up into his face filled with the passion of our lovemaking. His mouth was open as he panted, his eyes a mere slit of their normal roundness as he rode my cock into sexual oblivion.

I no longer felt the need to control my orgasms, he did it all for me ... I went where he lead. Reaching across my stomach I grasped his fullness, knowing it was time to bring us to the edge of our desires and I groaned in symphony with him as we both came. The timing exquisite, the result magnificent, and we both gave up our abundant seed for the glory of love.

I laughed with joy as Tally shook his head, babbling in tongues to express the wonder of that feeling we shared. He was a happy young man and again I felt his strength as he fell forward on my chest and smothered me in kisses. Happy the man who has his desires fulfilled, happier still he who gives them life.

And as the feelings spread between us so did the gelled mass of his cum, he had hosed me down pretty good.

"Jeez, Tally ... you been saving up for this or what?" I asked.

He giggled ... my favorite sound. Although I would be hard pressed to name one thing I liked best about him, I was sure of that sound.

"You just inspire the best in me," Tally replied, and then he looked down. "My balls feel empty, what about yours?"

"Yeah, you got it all this time," I said.

"When do guys stop having sex, how old do you think?"

"I'm goin until the day I die, you might even be the one to kill me with all this lovin."

"I never wanna stop lovin you ... never ever," Tally said.

"Your wish is my command, babe."

"We better wash off and take the fish home," Tally said.

We walked around to the stream and Tally led me into the pond from there. The years of flow had washed fine gravel out into the pond and I didn't feel the mud between my toes until the water suddenly turned cold.

"See, it's like ice down there ... Grandpa said there were three springs that fed this little pond and that's why he chose this site all those years ago."

"So all the underground water from the hills must come up here and never make it far as the river," I said.

"Probably so, Dad says this has never run dry even in the worst years."

Tally sat down in the gravel and I laughed as the cold water surrounded my crotch, those parts of my body seemed to shrink before my eyes.

"Good thing we had sex before, I couldn't find my cock now if I had to," I said.

"Oh, I'd find a way," Tally said.

He held the bucket in one hand and stopped to run a hand across the gravestone as we left.

"Bye Pops, I'll come see you again soon."

If only I had known the man, I was sure to see the best parts of Tally's personality in him. For just that loving gesture was something I expected of the boy, he carried the responsibility of loving people very near the surface in his mind.

We had no lid for the bucket and the fish sloshed around on the floor between Tally's legs, I took it slowly back to the road.

"We'll have to come back here more often," I said.

"Yeah, even when the corn is cut down it's still pretty private," Tally said. "By then I ought to be able to drive."

"Oh yeah, you're gonna get that permit next week."

Tally nodded. "Dad said Thursday we'd go to Motor Vehicles, you gonna help me study for the test?"

"I'm going to help you study everything. You already have an A in sex ed," I laughed.

"I love that class, the teacher is real cute."

Tally laughed at my expression, he had never called me cute before. I fed off his beauty and never spent much time thinking about my looks, but now I knew what he thought.

The fish were a hit, and Jim cleaned them all out on the back porch before handing them over to Granny. She slid the uncooked meatloaf back in the refrigerator and got out her fry pan. Dipped in milk and breaded, fifty pounds of fish went like lightning at the table, there wasn't a morsel remaining by the end of supper.

I lay in bed that night with Tally asleep in my arms and thought about today. I had a vision of the pond in winter, the snow blanketing the ground and the icy surface of the water gleaming dully in the cold light of the winter sun. And there under the bare branches of the willow, a single red rose lay atop the grave of the man who had built all this.

For he was still alive in Tally's mind, and the hearts of all who lived here. What a tribute to his life and the love he shared with this family. I didn't know how long it had been since Granny had visited the grave but I would ask. I wanted her to have that time with Jessie; it was hard to imagine the depth of her loss.

But she had Jim and Tom to remind her of the man that had taken her in marriage, which had to ease the pain of remembrance. I would ask her more about him, I needed to know what drove the man to fulfill his dreams. This farm was a symbol of that dream and the life he gave to give birth to it. These people felt that legacy in every day life, I could see that. I just wondered what other dreams had to be put aside for this one to live.

My attraction to the Winslow name went beyond Tally, although he was the best part of the discovery. I wanted to know more about Jessie, for in finding him I would know more of what I needed to do to make Tally into the man his Grandfather would have wanted to know and cherish. For surely Jessie had dreams and hopes for each of his grandchildren, I wanted his desires fulfilled. I wanted Tally to take his rightful place in the shadow of a great man I had never met. Only then could Tally take that one more step into the light, and be the man I would love forever.

On to Chapter Twelve

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