Farm Plan (4)

” You know, the first time I saw that butt hook contraption? I thought we’d have some sort of legal shit hitting the fan.”

“Hahaha…shit…that’s a good one. I gotta tell you…watching it?”

“I know! Seeing her teeny asshole swallow the fucking thing?”

“and the way she squirmed and squealed?”

“My dick may be 65 years old, but that fucker was hard as good Maine granite!”

“Mine too! geezuz I’ve never seen nuthing like that. I’ve seen a lot of shit on the internet but never watched one of those silver ball hook things being inserted like that.”

“I wondered what it felt like when he fucked her cunt. He had to have felt it…rubbing against the underside of his johnson?”

“You’d think.”

“I gotta get me some of that shit.” Bill slapped at a mosquito that buzzed near his ear. He rarely got bit, but this one was persistent. Then again, the two of them were sitting at the end of the dock in the dusk, allegedly fishing.

“We need a few gals to keep our dicks warm in winter.”

“Was wondering if you want to spend the winter up here-you’ve been here for weeks…might as well stop paying rent on that shit apartment in Orono. That way we can start planning the 2014 season. I was kind of thinking of themed weeks and…”

Bill flushed a bit under his grizzled beard as Tim stared at him. Then the two of them laughed. Camp had proven to be an embarrassment of riches, even after taxes and fees. A lot of nekkid people had tramped through the woods and pastures over the last four weeks. They’d spaced a weekend free for any fix-ups that needed attending to, and to give the two men a breather. Running a camp for nekked people was a challenge–but for kinky nekkid people? It was a bucket load of work.

“Tell you what, I’ll think about it.”

“Well, I don’t have an ocean…but I got the lake, and maybe we’ll get a few unattached single sluts who might consider bunking in.”

“That happens and I’m all in.” Tim laughed again. A bite on his line took his attention for a bit, until he landed the medium-sized trout. He dropped it into the bucket with the other two he’d caught.

“I win,” he said casually, as he replaced the lid.


Tim packed in his gear, grinning at the casual insult.

“Told you I would whip your ass–in fishing!”

Bill wheezed out a laugh. Every joke these days carried a double edge to it. One of those ‘entended” things. Whatever the fuck they were called.

Tomorrow they’d work through the buildings and campsites, tidying and fixing anything that needed it. Mini camp would begin on Thursday, for those people who couldn’t spare time enough to come for a full week of camp. That idea had been Tim’s, whose insane work schedule when he’d worked at the shipyard had given him the thought. He wasn’t the only guy who worked like a fucking dog. And there were some highfalutin women who wore power suits during the  work week, and nipple clamps during their off time. A mini camp suited the two codgers–and their clientele–perfectly.


Bill wiped sweat from his brow, swearing under his breath. It was fuck-all hot in here. And while he might’ve worked the farm every day for the last –well…. forever– he’d definitely softened up some since old Bessie had given up the ghost last fall. Fuck all, he’d gotten lazy, unused to having to throw bales of hay around. Shrugging his shoulders to loosen them a bit, he gripped the bale hook and stabbed it into the next bale. With a quick flick, he hooked the other baler into the side, and hefted the cube of hay out of the storage bay and into the barn proper. Those D/s folks liked the realism of hay around their ‘cow’s’–and it was sure easier to clean out the cum soiled grasses than steam cleaning a carpet. He imagined his compost pile would be steaming in January with all the jizz-coated hay he’d be tossing in there.  Done at last, he decided a beer wouldn’t come amiss. Putting the baler hooks away, because gawd knew what those kink-asses could do with those fuckers, and locking the storage door, he ambled up to the house.

Watching his friend make his way slowly from the barn, it was apparent to Tim that they were going to need to extra hands to help out. Not that they were incapable, but it was fucking hard work. While the campers were responsible for cleaning up after themselves, a certain amount of preparation and care was taken so that the environment was safe for all.

Wait a minute. Wait one fucking minute! The lightbulb going off in his head might just blind someone, he thought with a grin.

“Yo!” Rising from his chair, he met Bill at the end of the walkway with a cold brew. “Been thinking. How about we advertise a “special” camp…for that work-break we built-in for July?”

“What kind of special? How could we get everything prepped–“

Tim punched him on the shoulder. “Shut the fuck up and let me explain!” Hooking his arm over Bills shoulder, they walked up to the porch heads together.

“Fucking ingenious. Fucking BRILLIANT!” Bill stopped, his gap-toothed grin splitting his face. “Fucking-A Genius.”

“Thanks buddy…I dunno about you, but I’m beat. And not in a kinky way.”

The two codgers laughed, then walked into their kitchen-cum-office to plan a very special camp week.



“Needs work.”


“Gonna be a shitload of fun.”

“Gonna be shitload of work–for them!”

“Better them than me!”




hope you all are having fun at camp. i hope you consider emailing me if you have a secret fantasy that you’d LOVE to see/experience if YOU were coming to Farm Camp… please? You can send tons of details, or just a few words. Gmail will let you create a persona for your private mail if you want to be totally anonymous. I may not use your name, but your idea? That’d be golden. I’m working a ton of hours this weekend, straight through Monday–I’ll catch up with your emails and comments starting on Tuesday…and hopefully you will have mailed me a shitload of ideas so I can write my fingers off then….riiiight? 🙂 ~nilla~