Gay naked farmers

Used to be I was a skinny little shit when I lived in town as a teenager. Dad owned a small engines repair shop in Lennville, population all of seven hundred. When I was young, I didn't know what I wanted or who I was. I wasn't supposed to want to be a farmer. Where's the future in that? But farming ends up being just where I belong.

Somehow, at 27 years of age, I found myself tending farmers, working fields, cutting wood, getting all sweaty and muscular and loving it. Working on a farm sure did wonders for my physique. Now I've got a strong body and thick farmer forearms covered with my own curly brown body hair. Being a gay farmer isn't all that easy.

Country folk tend to be a bit cagey about that kind of thing. But I'm telling you, if I was sweating over my work, I sure was sweating just as much after my fellow farmers. Farmers tend to help each other out so I get to meet and see quite a few and, well, there are some mighty gay farmers around these parts. Even the 50 year old widower naked the road.

Hell, he showed me a thing or two about the farming life. He dropped by one day all duded up in his suit, on his way to some sort of meeting, or so I thought. He found me in the barn stacking square bales.

He's talking to me while I'm stacking, next thing I know he's right next to me, stripped down to his boxers, hauling hay bales. That's a farmer for you, always ready to lend a helping hand, gay matter what. He didn't want to dirty his nice clothes, you see, so he just took them off.

He's a good looking man, with them deep creases at the edges of his eyes and around his mouth from his skin tanning out in the fields year after year and from lots of laughing and smiling. Yep, he's always got a ready smile for you or a joke. He doesn't have any of that loose skin like some older men get.

So I guess the wrinkles and naked skin just make him look more rugged than anything else. Heck, he doesn't look fifty at all, more like, well, at least ten years younger. His body's farmer else, too! A lifetime of hard work, good food and good genes sure did him some good. I couldn't help but notice his tree-trunk legs coming out of his thin cotton shorts, or his tight, furry belly and thick smooth pecs.

And, of course, those farmer arms with the thick, rough fingers.