Growing Up Ch. 01

Growing up on a farm in West Texas in the 70s was a time in my life that I will never forget. Especially this particular summer because it was the bi-centennial summer of 1976. It was also the summer that I would realize my true self regarding what I wanted in a partner. Girls were always the talk among friends. At my age, it was just all talk. But for me, things were different.

At an early age, I had always been intrigued by a man's body. But you are quickly taught that men don't look at men. So I learned to hide my intrigue and would steal glances at my friend's bodies or sometimes strangers in certain situations. But those are moments that I would rather forget.

Instead, I want to remember someone I met in January of 76. The farm owner that my grandfather worked for always hired migrant workers on the first of the year; he would employ only two workers. Most of the time, they would be older men working the entire year on the farm, sending their money to their families, and leaving around December.

However, this particular year he would hire three.

After dinner, from time to time, my grandfather and I would walk down to the workers living quarters in the early evening hours. There the men would get into cards and domino games, or the two older men, in their late 30s, would sit around bullshitting with my grandfather. But Martin was younger and, at the time, only 22 but could pass for my age easily.

After the first few nights, he wandered off alone when the older men started their bullshit sessions, and I followed him. That's how we started getting to know each other. I had just barely turned 18, and being a senior in high school, Martin had more in common with me than the others.

We would talk about school and the day-to-day events in my life. As a high school dropout, Martin was always interested in my daily school life.

My senior year was always the main topic of our conversations. After a while, Martin became someone I could talk to for advice. Being eighteen, naive, and unpopular in school was a struggle. However, Martin's advice would turn out to be gold. He helped me maneuver the pitfalls of being an unwanted, mostly unnoticed senior in high school.

After a couple of months, the other two men became unhappy with their jobs and ended up quitting and returning to their families. Martin, on the other hand, stayed and kept working. He had no family waiting on his financial support, so he stayed and worked for himself and the experience.

Summer finally arrived, and school ended. Martin and I were closer than ever. I started noticing things that were getting harder and harder to hide. I saw his shoulders, how they were always back and very broad, and the muscle tone when he would take his work shirt off. His biceps and forearms were well-defined.

It took every ounce of energy to keep from gasping the first time I saw him pull off his shirt completely.

Then one day, the unthinkable happened. He stood against his front doorway, and I sat just outside on the grass. I have no clue what the conversation was about, but I can remember it like it was yesterday, staring at the crotch of his faded jeans.

I could see the outline of his cock. I couldn't take my eyes off it. Then the conversation just stopped. I don't know when it stopped or how long it stopped. I only remember looking up and those big brown eyes staring at me. I could feel my cheeks flush, and I knew I was blushing. Badly.

I quickly looked away, and my heart was racing. I would think to myself, how could I be so stupid? I was sure I had offended Martin and, at that moment, had no clue what to say. Then, panic-stricken, I jumped to my feet. I stuttered something out loud and managed to excuse myself, and I quickly went home.

Was Martin going to change? Was he going to start thinking that I was some fag? Did I disgust him? All I could think of were the questions running through my head. I tossed and turned that night as I lay in bed. Did I ruin it? Was Martin going to change? So many things came to mind, but most of all, I thought of the outline of his cock.

It had been days since I had gone to visit Martin. I had started working with a friend on his farm, helping his family. I would be up early in the morning and so tired that by the time I got home, all I wanted to do was eat, shower, and go to bed. But lying in bed late at night, I always thought of Martin and what he could be doing at that moment. Was he thinking of me?

Work on my friend's farm was finally all caught up, so I wasn't working as late plus, in a couple of days, I would have to start looking for another job. I had until September before I had to check into my college life. Everything was all set up for the next phase of my life. All I had to do was get through the summer.

Late one night, I walked towards where the farm equipment had been left. I kept kicking at the ground and mumbling to myself when a voice out of nowhere called out and scared me.

"So, did you get lost?" My heart jumped into my throat, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

It was Martin sitting on one of the pieces of equipment, calling out to me. My head was flooded with so many thoughts and emotions that it seemed like forever before I could answer him.

"Not lost, just putting in a lot of hours at work." Smiling as I answered. Trying to hide how much he had scared me.

"I know how that goes," Martin responded, and just like that, the conversation started as if it had never stopped.

It was as if nothing had happened. I suddenly felt at ease and comfortable again. Not a word was mentioned about the awkward situation from days before, and to my wonderful surprise, the big lug hadn't changed. We were just two guys hanging out and talking about our day.

The weekend arrived, and I usually went to the city on Saturdays with my grandfather. My grandfather was always quite the lady's man, and at the time, he had a lovely lady friend he would stay with over the weekend.

I would go because my grandfather's girlfriend had a couple of really cool daughters, and they were always really sweet to me. So I would hang out with them. Sometimes I'd go to movies, parties, or other social events with them. It was never sexual, just friends.

But this weekend, I decided to stay home and hang out on the farm instead.

After my grandfather had left, around noon, I headed down to see what Martin was doing. I knocked and heard a voice call out, telling me to come in. As I walked in, Martin was getting out of the shower. He was still slightly wet, with a towel wrapped around his waist and another over his head.

The towel around his waist came down to his knees, but as he walked, I could catch glimpses of those muscular thighs when the towel would part ever so slightly with each step he took. I could tell that he was surprised to see me.

"You're home?" He would ask.

"Yeah, I decided to take a break from hanging out with the old man." I'd respond.

Then he cracked his wonderful smile as he ducked back under the towel and continued to dry himself off. I didn't wait for him to invite me inside, and we immediately started talking. Without thinking, I followed him into his room and plopped myself down on the edge of his bed.

I was hypnotized watching him drop the towel he used to dry his hair on a chair beside him. Then, without skipping a beat, he removed the towel around his waist.

He was standing there, his back to me, and if you asked me today what he was saying, I wouldn't know if my life depended on it, but I remember that body.

Being a farmer means hard physical work. He did a lot of lifting, walking, and handling heavy machinery, and his body was perfect. His back was just as chiseled as his chest. His upper back was broad, his upper torso making an ideal V outline down to his waist. His bottom was firm and round, and finally, my eyes led me to those massive thighs.

As he turned, I lost all train of thought because, for the first time since we had met, I would see his cock. Remember, it was the 70s, so there was no shaving or trimming back then. So there he stood with this thick, hanging cock. The thick shaft hung down, resting over these two giant swollen balls, or at least they seemed swollen to me. His glorious cock and balls were nestled against a nice dark thick bush.

I was breathless.

This day wasn't the first time I had seen a man's cock, but it was the most defined cock I had ever seen. The head of his cock was huge, and the shaft was very thick. The length was the longest I had ever seen, and he wasn't even fully erect.

Once again, I looked up, and Martin had caught me staring. But this time, before I could react, before I could run.

"Hey, whoa, c'mon, stop," he exclaimed, raising his hand for effect to make sure I didn't move.

My face was turning very red because I could feel the heat in my face getting more intense. I knew I was blushing hard.

"You don't have to run away," he said.

Then he calmed me down and told me how he had thought about that day when I took off after getting caught staring at his crotch. It looked like he was about to get dressed; his voice reassured me, telling me I had no reason to run away. Martin explained that I didn't have to worry about him being mad, liking, or not liking that I was staring at his cock.

He would explain that he didn't know how he felt about it. He just knew that he liked me and would never want to hurt my feelings or embarrass me. Then he asked me if I wanted him to cover up. Did I want him to get dressed?

"No," I answered. Looking into those gorgeous brown eyes, standing there feeling the most vulnerable I'd ever felt in my young life.

Martin walked over to me and then sat beside me, reaching back and grabbing the pillows behind him. He would position the pillows so he could lay down on them, naked, next to me. Then Martin started talking.

He would tell me he's always liked girls and had never thought about being with a guy. But he said that with me, it was different. He would go on to tell me that he enjoyed our conversations and that he thought I was pretty.

Pretty? He thought I was pretty? At first, I was offended, but then as I thought about it, sitting there in silence, I was ok with it. I had one hand in the other and looked down at them. His words echoed in my mind; He thinks I'm pretty. Just then, a half smile crossed my face.

"What do you mean I'm pretty?" I asked in a whisper.

He let out a soft laugh and explained that I had beautiful eyes and he thought I was cute when I would blush. But what he thought made me pretty was my smile.

"Your smile makes you beautiful, chiquita," he said as the palm of his hand came to rest on the middle of my back.

My eyes grew wide, and I didn't know how to respond. Chiquita? Do I look like a girl? Why would he call me a girl? But, thinking back on that moment now, I can understand what he was talking about, even if, at that moment, I was perplexed and confused.

I was about 5'6" and weighed around 140 lbs. I have light brown eyes, and at that time, I had shoulder-length straight hair, a brown-reddish color. I wasn't what you would call a hard body, but I was not fat. If I described my body in today's terms, I had curves.

I had a thin waist and most definitely a bubble bottom. I also had boy boobs. Don't laugh. My chest was not tight and hard like Martins's, but I still had a bit of baby fat, and my nipples were what you would call puffies in today's terms.

But I didn't know all these things right then, and it didn't matter because, at that moment, all I cared about was that he thought I was pretty. So it would be a while before I understood being called a chica.

Martin reached up and started stroking the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair. He then asked me to lay back with him. I did as I was asked. He would place my head on his chest, turn me on my side to face him, then put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. My free hand would find itself lying on top of Martins's stomach.

I was so scared and nervous, but most of all, I was so excited. Martin would lean down and kiss the top of my head. I could've died right there. Then, without thinking, my hand slowly went down his stomach. Past his lower abdomen until my fingers came in contact with his pubes.

I froze and didn't know what to do. I slowly started to run my fingertips through those luscious pubes. I couldn't get over how soft and silky they felt in my fingers. I could notice Martin's breathing beginning to change. Then I took a deep breath and held it as I allowed my hand to slide even further until the palm of my hand was over the shaft of his cock; I exhaled.

I slid my hand over the shaft of his cock, and to this day, I can remember how soft and smooth the skin on his cock felt. But I could not close my grip entirely on the shaft of his cock. I had been able to palm a basketball since the start of eighth grade, so when I tell you that I have large hands, I have large hands.

But I could not close my grip around his cock. So I lay there, my head on Martins's chest and his thick cock in my hand.

I slowly stroked it feeling it getting stiffer and thicker. As I slightly raised my head, I could see that his cock was not only swelling, but it was getting longer. I started masturbating at a young age, so I knew what I was doing and its effect on Martin. I understood how good it felt to stroke my cock, so I could tell by the way Martin would squirm and his breathing how it became more profound; he was enjoying what I was doing.

Staring at Martins's beautiful cock in my hand, I found myself lowering my head down to it until the head of his cock was right in front of my face.

"What are you doing?" He asked in a raspy lustful voice. A voice I'd never heard before that moment.

"Nothing," I replied with a lustful, devious voice. A voice I'd never heard come out of me before.

Then without warning, I slipped that fat, purple, swollen cockhead into my mouth.

I had to strain to open my mouth to let it slip in, but once his cockhead was in my mouth, I instantly knew what to do with it. I started suckling that wonderful cockhead in and out of my mouth. Never letting it completely escape my lips and then sliding it back into my mouth. Having to open my mouth that wide and using my tongue caused my saliva glands to kick into overdrive.

Soon the saliva in my mouth was too much to contain, and I could see and feel the saliva drooling down his cock shaft over my fingers wrapped as best as they could be around his cocks shaft.

"Swallow," I heard him say in a soft voice.

Swallow? I thought to myself. I did as he said and gulped down much of the drool that had built up in my mouth as I sucked his cock.

"Swallow," he whispered, and again I would do as I was told. I swallowed.

Soon I was getting a rhythm and now did not have to be reminded to swallow. I was finding the perfect balance of saliva and cock in my mouth, no longer needing to be reminded when to swallow.

Martin began grinding his hips upward to match my head's downward movements. I didn't realize it then, but he was fucking my mouth gently and softly. I was so lost in my act that I didn't notice Martin's breathing begin to race, along with the thrusts in his hips. Then he took in a deep breath and grunted out in a loud voice.

"Swallow!" Without hesitation, I did as I was told.

Except this time, just as I was about to swallow, Martin dumped a very thick strand of cum in my mouth. Because I did as I was told, the thick strand of cum slid down my throat.

"Swallow!" He cried out with a perverted grunt.

Again I did as I was told, and another massive strand of cum was dumped into my mouth.

"Swallow." His voice would call out again!

Oh my god, not again, I thought. I had just swallowed the first load when the second load was in my mouth. I had just taken a deep breath to swallow the second load when the third was already being dumped into my mouth.

I felt panic because it was just too much, but I swallowed. I could only take down half the load before needing to breathe again. By this time, I had lost count of the times he dumped his creamy wonderful cum in my mouth. That's right, wonderful and creamy. It would be some time, later down the road in life, before I would realize just how good the quality of Martin's cum was.

I was gulping down what I could; the rest was escaping from the corners of my mouth, drooling down his shaft. Air bubbles were forming from the cum that was escaping my mouth as I tried to breathe in-between loads. Then finally, he stopped cumming.

I kept swallowing, and Martin lay there, his body slightly twitching as I continued sucking his cock. Swallowing all his cum down my throat. Then without having to be told, I started licking the shaft of that beautiful cock, ensuring I cleaned every bit of his cum off of it and into my mouth.

His cock was clean, and I was finishing squeezing out the last drop of his cum from his cock. Then, suddenly without warning, Martin grabbed me and threw me up onto the rest of the bed; then, as quick as he threw me, he was lying next to me. With one flip, I was on my side, and he was behind me. He was holding me, spooning me.

He was completely naked, and I was still in my t-shirt and jeans. As we lay there, I could feel his hard body pressed against mine and that fat, thick, semi-erect cock pressing against my ass.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I grabbed onto those big muscular forearms. I was happy. For the first time in my short life, I was not just happy; I was also content.

"Que voy a hacer contigo chiquita (What am I going to do with you, little girl,)" He whispered; my heart began to race.