Farmhand Ass for Double Pay

Franklin had run the old county-road farm by himself for years, but at forty he finally admitted he needed extra hands. That morning he hired three nineteen-year-old farmhands—Hector, Colton, and Boone—to put in a full day of grueling chores around his rural property. They showed up at dawn in work boots and faded jeans, ready to earn their pay, and Franklin put them to it without delay.

The sun climbed fast and brutal. They mended fence along the back pasture, hauled hay, stacked feed sacks, and wrestled irrigation pipe through the rows until their shirts turned dark with sweat. Hector’s black hair stuck to his forehead; the thin cotton clung to the hard planes of his chest and the tight taper of his waist. Colton’s shirt rode up every time he bent, flashing a strip of tanned stomach above his belt. Boone’s jeans hung low on his hips, the denim stretched over a round, muscular ass that flexed with every lift. Franklin stole long, hungry glances whenever they weren’t looking—at the way sweat darkened the seats of their pants, at the thick outlines swelling behind their flies as the heat and labor made everything tight and restless. Unspoken heat thickened between them like the humid air. The boys caught him looking more than once and didn’t look away. They grinned, stretched a little slower, let him see.

By late afternoon the work was done. The four of them stood in the dusty yard, shirts plastered to skin, breathing hard. Franklin wiped his face with a rag and looked them over, slow and open.

“You boys earned your day rate,” he said. His voice was rough, no pretense left in it. “I’ll double it. Right now. Cash. If you three come into the barn with me and let me fuck your asses and cum in each one of you.”

Silence hung for a heartbeat. Then Hector laughed, low and eager, and glanced at the other two. Colton’s tongue wet his lower lip. Boone’s hand dropped to the obvious bulge in his jeans and squeezed.

“You’re serious,” Colton said, already smiling.

“Dead serious. I want to pump a load in each of you. You want the money, you bend over and take it. All three of you. Gladly, or we forget I asked.”

Hector’s grin went filthy. “Hell yes.” He looked at Colton and Boone. “You in?”

Colton nodded, eyes dark. “Yeah. Fuck yeah.”

Boone let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Double pay to get railed? I’m already hard. Let’s go.”

Their cocks were visibly tenting their jeans as they followed Franklin across the yard. No one hesitated. Lust and the filthy, simple deal had them all walking fast.

The barn was dim and smelled of hay and old wood. Dust motes hung in the last strips of light. Franklin shut the big door. He didn’t waste time. He pointed Hector at a waist-high hay bale.

“Pants down. Hands on that. Ass out.”

Hector shoved his jeans and underwear to his knees in one motion. His cock sprang up, thick and already leaking. Franklin spat in his palm, slicked his own heavy cock, and stepped in behind the nineteen-year-old. He palmed Hector’s firm cheeks, spread them, and pushed the fat head against that tight pink hole. Hector pushed back with a groan.

“Do it. Fuck me.”

Franklin sank in with a long, relentless stroke. Hector’s ass clenched hot and snug around him, and both men cursed. Franklin grabbed Hector’s hips and started pounding him standing doggy-style, the slap of skin echoing off the rafters. He fucked him deep and hard, balls slapping, watching that young ass ripple. Hector braced on the hay and shoved back to meet every thrust, moaning loud.

“Shit—yeah—fill it. Cum in me, Franklin—”

Colton and Boone had their cocks out, stroking, watching Franklin’s thick shaft disappear into Hector over and over. Franklin reached around and jerked Hector’s cock in time with his hips. Hector came first, spattering the hay, his hole clamping down. Franklin buried himself to the root, hips jerking, and unloaded a thick, pulsing creampie deep in Hector’s ass. He held there, grinding, pumping every spurt inside him while Hector whimpered and clenched to keep it.

Franklin pulled out slow. White cum leaked from Hector’s stretched hole and ran down his balls. Hector stayed bent, panting, ass still presented.

“Next,” Franklin said, voice hoarse.

He turned Colton toward the wooden sawhorse. Colton shucked his jeans and sat back on it, then let Franklin push him down so his shoulders rested on the wood and his ass hung off the end, legs spread wide. Missionary on the sawhorse, Colton’s cock lay hard against his stomach. Franklin lined up and drove in with one powerful stroke. Colton’s mouth fell open.

“Fuck—you’re big—”

Franklin hooked Colton’s knees and railed him with deep, heavy thrusts, the sawhorse creaking. He fucked him like he meant to breed him, watching his cock piston in and out of that tight nineteen-year-old hole. Hector, still dripping, stood nearby stroking his half-hard cock, eyes glued to the stretch of Colton’s rim. Boone stroked faster, precum shining on his fist.

“Take it,” Franklin growled. “Gonna dump another load in this ass.”

Colton grabbed his own cock and pumped it. “Do it—cum in me—please—I want it—”

Franklin slammed in to the hilt and came hard, groaning, flooding Colton’s ass with a second heavy load. He kept thrusting through it, pushing the cum deeper, until Colton came across his own chest with a shout. When Franklin pulled out, a thick rope of white followed, dripping off the sawhorse onto the dirt.

Boone was already on all fours in the hay, ass up, looking back over his shoulder. “My turn. Don’t you fucking stop. I want that cum.”

Franklin dropped to his knees behind him, spit once more, and shoved into Boone’s tight hole in one long slide. Boone’s back arched. Franklin grabbed his hips and started slamming him, the hay rustling under Boone’s hands and knees. He fucked him deep and mean, the last of his stamina poured into it, balls tight, cock still slick with the previous loads. Hector and Colton watched, both stroking again, moaning at the wet sound of Franklin’s cock punching into Boone.

“Beg for it,” Franklin said, pounding.

“Cum in my ass—fill me—please, Franklin, give it to me—” Boone’s voice broke into a moan. “All of it—”

Franklin’s rhythm turned brutal. He reached under and jerked Boone’s cock. Boone came with a cry, hole spasming, and that was enough. Franklin buried himself, hips flush, and deposited the final heavy load, pulsing again and again into Boone’s clenching ass until there was nothing left. He stayed locked there, breathing hard, feeling Boone’s hole milking the last drops.

He pulled out of Boone’s dripping ass and sat back on his heels. Cum leaked from all three well-fucked holes—Hector still standing with it running down his thigh, Colton spread on the sawhorse with a glistening trickle, Boone on all fours with a thick white bead sliding out of his stretched rim and into the hay. The barn smelled like sex and sweat. All three nineteen-year-olds were grinning, wrecked and satisfied, cocks spent.

Franklin stood, tucked himself away, and pulled a roll of bills from his pocket. He counted out each man’s doubled wages in cash and pressed the money into their hands. They took it without shame, still half-naked, cum still leaking.

Colton laughed, stuffing the bills in his jeans. “Same time tomorrow?”

Boone wiped his mouth and smirked. “I’m free. Overtime’s the best part of the job.”

Hector tucked his cash away, glanced at the other two, then at Franklin, still grinning, and said, “You gonna creampie all three of us again if we come back at dawn, or you want us to bring a fourth?”