| My
day on a Farm by G.H. Phillips (copyright 2003) |
From my childhood
stories titled, The Rope, the Spinning Carnival Ride, and a few other
things. These are all true stories of actual events in my life and are
written to the best of my memory.
There are a few events, which I consider as part of the "coming out" phase of my life. This particular event took place a whole 5 years before my first real boyfriend and was kind of a turning point for me. I realized I could really love another man… My first real job was working in an industrial wood shop. This job took place the summer of 1976, between my sophomore and junior year of High School. The job was very interesting to me; you never knew what was going to happen when you came into work for the day. On one of those days, first thing in the morning, Jake, the owner, came in and asked, "How'd you like to go to New York State for the day and bale hay?" I, of course, said yes! Off we were, in his huge motor home, four employees, including the boss and me. Two hours later, we met the farmer, Mr. Snyder. He had mowed the field earlier in the week and then let the hay dry and was in the process of wind rowing it when we arrived. He made the decision that the hay was dry enough and we could start baleing. We helped him hook up the Holland America, and we were off. I had no idea what I was in for this hot, sunny day...yeah, no idea at all. As we got further into the morning the hay bales seemed to be coming faster and faster. We were already getting tired—and it wasn't even lunchtime yet. Mrs. Snyder had brought drinks out to us a few times that morning so at least we didn't need fluid. Then, finally, it was lunchtime, or so the farmer said. It was kind of cool. He looked up at the sun, turned to us and said "Ayah, about time for lunch." This, though a simple event, fascinated me, he could tell the time by the sun's position in the sky. By the way, he wasn't wearing a watch that he could slip a look at. As we were on the way back, we could hear the lunch bell, one of those old-fashioned triangle bells; we knew he was right! We quickly washed up at a sink on the outside of one of the storage sheds, then went over to sit at a table fit for a king, a farmer-king. The table was long and had benches built into it and was covered in a white- and red-checked oilcloth. I must say the table looked perfect and exactly what I would have expected. You knew it had been used for this purpose many, many times, as this obviously wasn't the first baleing session at this farm. We sat down to a great lunch of hamburgers, hotdogs and all kinds of salads. I remember very well sitting next to one woman; I was hungry and eating away. She smiled at me and said, "you think this is big, wait till dinner!" Well, I was impressed. We ate our fill, then headed back out to the fields yet again, but not until we had a short "rest" for digestion. The farmer didn't want anyone getting sick or passing out; he, of course, knew best. We were just teenagers. We headed out and started baleing again. It took all day to fill the huge wagon with hay. This might not sound like a lot of hay, but it was, it was stacked rather high. I remember him telling us just how to stack it so it wouldn't fall when we did the hilly areas. I was fascinated by this farm work. These guys have spent their lives working in the fields and knew just how to do it. I'm sure this farmer could tell by the smell of things in the air what day of the month it was. I wouldn't doubt that he could also tell where he was in the field by the bumps the tractor went over. We finally finished the huge field and it was time to stack the hay. By this time, I was ready to die for the evening, screw dinner, everything else, just let me sleep! Well, that wasn't to be, yet; the hot stuffy barn was the next leg of our journey… *** Out in the rural areas, the farmers and their families all stick together. People would show up even if there were a slight possibility one needed assistance. Well, the people around Mr. Snyder's farm were no different. When we were on the way to the barn with the hay bales I spotted what looked like a very cute guy walking towards us. When he got to the side of the tractor and started talking to the old farmer, I got a much better view of this boy. My first impression was that he was an angel. He was all of 16, which was a year younger than I was, but oh man, what a pretty, beautiful and hunky young man. He was around my height of 5'7" or maybe a little shorter. He wasn't chunky and wasn't skinny. He had the most beautiful jet-black hair, just long enough, but not too long. He was wearing white cutoff jeans; and they were cut just short enough. They were snow white, an excellent contrast to his brown-tanned, flawless skin. What really got to me was that he was wearing royal blue colored nylon gym shorts under those cut offs. I could see the waistband slightly above them. I might add, this was all he was wearing besides ankle socks and a great looking pair of sneakers. There are, in my opinion, only a couple of months in a young man's life where they are "just perfect" and at their stunning peak in beauty. They are angelic, boy-like and yet starting to turn into a man, and in a word, perfect! I'd say I met this young man at that point in time, no doubt about it. I will never forget Jason; I still remember everything, right down to the scent of him. *** There are times when one will meet a boy that affects you to the point of having trouble breathing and/or talking. It's hard to explain my feelings at that age, but there was a heat/energy that seemed to radiate in waves from this boy's body. It's a moist kind of heat, steamy, fuzzy and inviting, which produced very strong feelings from deep within me. I know this sounds odd, but that's how it felt at the time. Certain boys at school would do this to me; I'd look at them and see these hazy, steamy, fuzzy waves of energy coming from them. This feeling had happened numerous times over my life. One guy who did this to me was our neighbor, Walter. He lived on my street, one block down. Walter was a little older than me, perhaps 3 or 4 years, and was a jock. Not the typical jock. Oh no, he was very much an atypical one. Walter was a sweet, kind guy, and…oh so beautiful, the stuff that dreams are made of! Walter had to be 7 foot tall, or at least, at my age he seemed to be. When he smiled at me, I'd melt. All those beautiful white teeth. Walter made me breathe funny when I talked to him. I had trouble getting the words out before running out of breath. Yeah, I had it bad for him… but…yet, I didn't know why. I would think that it would nice to get close to him, but to what end? Hugging? Kissing? Guys don't do that, faggots do, and I wasn't one of them! Hugging, yes, perhaps a rub on the back, but kissing? I don't think so. Well, unfortunately, nothing ever happened between Walter and me but how I longed for it, whatever "it" was. I would have started a whole new lifestyle a lot sooner! *** Well, Jason's chat session with the farmer was too short for my liking, but then, much to my approval, he hopped on the wagon for the ride to the barn. As soon as he jumped on, he was friendly, introducing himself to everyone, including me. Funny, I was so taken by meeting him, and when he shook my hand, I felt an energy pass from him to me…that teenage sexual-electric-energy. While on the wagon, I had a chance to check him out a little closer; this I did rather discretely, as I didn't want my friends to know what I was thinking. This boy was very well built, but not from working out; he didn't need to. It was from the farm work. He had arms that were just perfectly built, and when he lifted them… His chest was absolutely perfect; clean of hair with dark, nickel sized nipples. He had a flat, tapered tummy with just a hint of that hairline, another trait of youth that I love to this day. He had solid, muscular legs and my favorite type of butt, solid and round the perfect size for his build. I know I run the risk of this sounding like a story in a skin magazine, but I really have to describe Jason.  I saved the best part for last, his face.
This boy had the face of an
angel. They say we are made in His image, and looking at Jason, I could
only say that He must be beautiful. I was at or very close to the
boiling point already, and the evening was yet young. To say the least,
I was already smitten with him.We arrived at the barn, a little too soon, I thought. I was perfectly willing to spend the rest of my life taking in the sights, sounds and scents of this very cute boy. We all hopped off the wagon and the farmer tried to back it in, but after the third time, gave up and let Jason do it. He did it in a matter of a minute, on the first try! This poor farmer was very old, perhaps mid 70's and had obviously seen better days as far as driving and backing into tight spaces. As we unloaded the hay bales, I tried to stay close to my new, hunky friend. I have always been turned on by the scents of a guy and even when I was a teenager, I was aware of this. He was clean, but the scent from all the work of the day and the hay bale stacking in the barn, was ever so faintly in the air. I was getting aroused. The barn was very hot, and so was I! I had to think about other things and quickly too! I was so aroused from the days hot-sun, and the evening's hot-son too. We did finish up, and thankfully, no one noticed that I was sporting a stiff boner. Thank goodness my work buddies didn't notice, as the both of them would have made a spectacle over it, and I would have been embarrassed to tears. One thing was for sure, I was treated to the view of this hunky young man stretching and bending in every position and it was burned into my mind forever! We eventually finished the work of stacking the hay bales, and not a moment too soon, as I couldn't take much more of viewing Jason. The job was done now, and dinner was going to be served very quickly afterwards. We were told there was a stream across the street if we wanted to go into it for a dip. I believe they even had shorts for us to wear if needed. Since Jason stayed at the house, so did I. I wasn't about to let him out of my sight, not just yet. I’m sure I could have used some time in the stream, not only to clean and cool me off physically, but mentally too. Then there was that sound, and if I live to be a hundred I won't forget it—the dinner bell. They had a rather big version of the triangle bell. It had to be 15 inches on each of its three-equal sides. That sound really meant something to me, as this was a kind of history playing out. It also meant it was dinnertime, and I was hungry, as was the rest of the group. I will never forget the spread that was put down for us. There was everything! People from the surrounding farms had come and they brought food of all types. There was grilled chicken, steaks, hot dogs, hamburgers, corn on the cob, baked beans, lasagna, potato salad, macaroni salad, tossed salad—you name it! The food was flowing freely, as were the stories of long ago on this farm. I wish I had the sense to write things down or at least try to remember them, as some were funny and all were interesting. I remember laughing so hard. You may be wondering…but, yes, I did sit next to my new hunky friend, Jason. What a perfect name for a perfect looking and acting young man. I felt so attracted to him, I wanted to grab him, hug him, take him inside of me so I could show him, not only tell him, how I felt. When I say this, I don't mean that in the sexual sense, but to take him totally into my body with me. He would feel, smell and taste what I do, and the same for me. He was the sweetest guy I had ever met, other than perhaps Walter, a few years before that. Jason was more my age, and so maybe that's why I felt more attracted to him. I was so taken by him, I just sat there and watched and listened to him chat to everyone. After a very short time, all I could hear was his voice echoing in my head… My mind was racing at hundreds of miles per hour while this was all going on. As he sat next to me, I was so aroused from the heat and natural scent of him combined with the hay. I was having stirrings down below, yet again. I remember Jake asking me a question about something or other, and I was just day-dreaming over Jason, mentally running my hands all over him, kissing him from head to toe…spending much time in the middle—then I woke up and asked him to repeat the question. Jake looked at me kind of funny. I was pretty sure that he had no idea of what I was thinking… Or did he? I must have looked like a love-struck teenage girl the way I was looking at Jason. The funny thing was he saw me looking and never once gave me that "stay away" face. Perhaps he sensed that I was enamored of him. Perhaps he was with me? So many questions, so few answers. I thought about asking Jason to show me around the place, but then thought that was being a little too forward. How silly I was then. I bet he would have been happy to show me around. I couldn't take my eyes off of Jason. We hung around for a while chatting, but it was getting late so it was time to head out. The trip home was easy. I ended up getting home late and I got to bed around 1:30 in the morning. I was very tired and couldn't wait to have a shower and hit the hay, no pun intended. I went to bed that night only after delving into the memories of that day and only after I exercised my ability to fanaticize, did I go to sleep. I lay in bed wondering what my new friend Jason was doing at that moment. Was he doing exactly the same thing I was doing, thinking about me? Had he felt the same about me? I'm sure he didn't, but you never really know. Back in those days, I was far too shy and would never have asked for a phone number or anything like that. Yeah…Jason, I wonder what happened to him. Did he turn out gay? Is he straight and married to his high school sweetheart, and now the father of lots of kids that are beautiful, beautiful just like him? I often wonder about what happened to that boy with the white cut-offs with the royal blue nylon gym shorts underneath…the boy who aroused me to the point of almost embarrassing myself. For that matter, I wonder if he even remembers me.  I look back at pictures of when I was 17 and think, boy,
I was pretty
darned cute. Why do young guys usually think they're dorks? I was
afraid of my own shadow, because of that I missed out on so much. I
missed out on meeting a few nice guys only because of my shyness, or
insecurities. There was one other story that involved a coming out of
sorts. This was in 1980, four years after my day on the farm. I was
very taken by the site of a guy I was eventually introduced to. Before
I left that visit, I was going to meet him, even if I would make a
scene in doing so. I did get to meet him, but didn't have to do
anything myself. He came to me. This is another story for yet another
time. Suffice it to say it will be quite erotic, as this was my "coming
out" in a sexual way. I did, as they say, make up for some lost time.All written material copyright Gary H Phillips, and cannot be used in any form without express written permission from the author. |