CYOA3 – Farmer's Delight – Chapter 15: Home Movie

Previously: Farmer's encounter with Sam and Sebastian found a very satisfying end.

Content this chapter: voyeurism; unknowing exhibitionism; feminization; cheating

Note: Elliott is not trans, he simply enjoys being feminized a whole lot.

---

It’s been… awkward to come face to face with Kent after fucking his son in a barn not quite a week before.

Especially since now that he’s right on Farmer’s front porch, looking tired and like he’s attempting to keep himself together with string and glue, Farmer can see that Sam is pretty much the spitting image of his father.

Younger and more carefree and with a spark in his eyes that has gone out of Kent’s own expression, but… yeah. Definitely father and son. As Farmer thrusts out his hand to shake and feel how bone crushingly tight Kent’s grip is on him, he wonders if he would whimper just as sweetly as Sam did if he got speared on dick.

“Good to meet you. I didn’t know you’d be back this soon!”

“Yeah, well. It was a surprise for everybody.” He does not quite look Farmer in the eye, though it does not necessarily feel like he has something to hide. More like he’s still fighting with his own demons. When their hands drop back to their sides, he straightens his spine out a little. “I heard you’ve been taking care of my boy for me while I was gone.”

Farmer smiles.

“Thank you for that. I appreciate it. And uh… welcome to the community. It’s good to finally have a local farmer again.” He looks around slowly, nodding with stoic approval. “You did a good job of getting things up and running.”

Farmer’s smile widens and he stuffs his hands in his pockets, slowly rocking on his feet.

“No worries! I see him and Sebastian as really good friends. They’re good young men. Helped me out a ton already.”

Kent nods slowly, nothing in his posture or tone showing that Sam let anything slip of what really is going on between the three of them.

“So I’ve heard. Thanks for getting him to do something other than that damn no future Joja shit he’s been stumped with.”

Farmer’s brows lift.

“Not a fan of Joja, I take it?”

Kent rolls his eyes and waves him off as he turns to start trudging back down to the town proper. “Don’t even get me started. Anyway; have a good day, sir. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

.oOo.

Farmer wonders later if Kent ever thought that ‘seeing a lot of each other’ would involve Farmer squatting outside of Elliott’s beach cabin and seeing him and Kent getting hot and frisky with each other inside.

Somehow he doubts that.

He didn’t come out here specifically to be a peeping tom. It just happened to work out that way when he went to check on his crab pots and heard a pitchy whine from Elliott’s little house. He’s not dumb enough not to recognize it immediately for the sex-sound that it was, but he had more so thought he would see Elliott on his bed, fucking into his fist, lip clenched between his teeth as he tried to temp down on all his sweet little noises…

What he did not expect was to see Elliott with someone else and that someone to turn out to be Kent.

Kent isn’t naked yet like Elliott is but he’s got his shirt up and clenched between his teeth, showing off the expanse of his tight, military trained abs. He looks fucking hot and Farmer immediately is jealous of Elliott.

Not that Elliott doesn’t look good as well. He takes care of his body somehow, even though in the few times Farmer has spoken to him, he seemed to have his head firmly in the clouds. Always talking about something quaint, or the book he is fretting over writing.

He can see that there is a half-written page in his old-timey typewriter right now, waiting for him to come back after he got stuffed full of cock and cum. Maybe it helps with inspiration? Farmer certainly could believe it.

His long red-brown hair is cascading down his back, tickling the top of his plump ass. There’s a dark shape hidden between his spread cheeks that makes Farmer think that either this encounter is not as sudden and unexpected as he thought, or Elliott just likes to spread himself on toys.

Maybe that’s why he’s always smiling so serenely whenever Farmer is talking to him… oh what a wonderful thought that is.

Farmer exhales gustily and shuffles his legs underneath him to squat more comfortably, staring through the window. If Elliott had not wanted an audience, he should have invested in some drapes. As it is, Farmer does not feel remotely bad for watching them play without them being any the wiser.

He wonders if Kent’s wife knows about this. If she kissed her husband and sent him out on his way to dick down some pretty himbo because she might not like to take it up the ass – or Kent likes some hard male body every now and then, learned to appreciate it from months out with his comrades and them needing to blow off some steam every now and then…

Or whether she is none the wiser, thinking Kent is out and about, connecting with nature, getting his head back on straight – hah – after coming back from war clearly traumatized.

Farmer can’t quite figure it out but he finds that he does not incredibly mind one way or the other. The first one would be hotter, he supposes, so he likes to think that Jodi knows about her husband going and dicking down Elliott on the regular.

His hand drops to his crotch, loosely grasping his growing erection through his overalls as he watches Kent grab Elliott by the ears and pull his mouth on his dick. They’re in the middle of the cabin, Elliott squatted in front of Kent, his legs spread, holding on to the other’s hips for balance as he gets pulled onto cock and takes it like a champ.

Farmer is honestly surprised because that dick looked massive, long and thick with a wicked upward curve that made his mouth water and his own hole clench in sympathy. God, he really needs to get his hands on that dick one of these days…

The window he’s crouching under is opened just a crack, allowing him to hear the wet clicking sounds of Elliott’s throat as he gets pulled on and off of Kent’s dick as if he were nothing but a glorified fleshlight for the veteran.

Fucking. Hot.

Every time Kent bottoms out, Elliott’s throat visibly bulges around the thick cock. His face flushes progressively hotter until it’s barely a shade off from his long hair. When Kent finally pulls out completely there are thick strings of saliva stretching between his spit wet cock and Elliott’s open, panting mouth.

He has to cough, his eyes looking watery from what Farmer can see from his perch; he must have been close to choking on Kent’s cock, chest heaving.

Kent cards his fingers through the other’s hair and, in a surprisingly gentle gesture, brushes some of it behind the curve of Elliott’s flushed ear. They stare at each other for a moment, making Farmer wonder whether there is more to the whole thing than just some convenient sex. Maybe they really were boyfriends? Which would be kind of cute.

The war veteran and the soft-hearted writer…

After a second of them just staring at each other, Kent reaches up and pulls the shirt completely off his back. Presumably so he can talk to his lover, fingers still carding through Elliott’s long hair.

He murmurs something but it’s too low for Farmer to make out other than the bassy rumble of his voice. Elliott nods slowly. He attempts to get up with the grip he has on Kent’s hips but his legs must feel like jell-o because he fails to do so, a self-deprecating grin spreading on his face.

Kent swoops down, grasping him underneath the arms and pulling him up with no visible strain. Farmer can feel a little swoop in his own belly, watching it. There’s something irresistibly romantic about getting lifted around as if you weren’t a grown-ass man and from the look Elliott is bestowing Kent with, he feels the exact same way.

Kent does not notice. His face is tight and as unamused as ever as he looks down at Elliott’s legs, apparently waiting to make sure the other got his blood circulation and strength back enough to not crumple back down on the ground.

Once Elliott is stable, Kent takes his hands off of him and reaches for his belt, unbuckling it. He’s all efficient, precise movements; like he hasn’t been balls deep down Elliott’s throat, getting him to choke on his dick until his eyes went soft and far-away and his fingers spasmed against his hips.

Farmer exhales softly. That is different to Sam. Kent’s son is a ray of sunshine, really; so happy-go-lucky and eager to please. So sweet and obedient and… not like Kent at all. Gruff. Quiet. Very introverted.

He wonders if he’s always been that way or if the war has made him so. His hands are big and calloused but very gentle once he’s gotten naked and reaches for Elliott again who has taken to leaning with his naked ass against the edge of his desk, one leg up on his chair and fingers playing with the plug inside his hole.

His expression does not match the way he acts. His eyes are intense, jaw clenched like he is about to fight, but his palms look gentle when they cup Elliott’s shoulders and pull him away from the desk.

Farmer can hear Elliott’s slutty whine when he stumbles and the motion makes the toy suddenly get sucked back into his body; presumably pressing against his prostate.

“Please,” Elliott gasps when Kent just keeps holding him at arm’s length and staring at him with what Farmer thinks is quite an inscrutable expression. “Please, I need it.”

Kent does not move. He just keeps staring, his jaw tight and the cleft in his chin becoming somehow more pronounced when the corners of his mouth pull down as if upset.

Elliott seems well acquainted with the moods of his bed partner. Where Farmer would get nervous, he just gets more squirmy in Kent’s hold, not attempting to reach for him but kind of dancing on the spot, his long cock bouncing with the movements. “Please fuck me?” he says in a sweet voice; almost that dreamy cadence he uses when he talks to Farmer occasionally. “Please fuck my pussy hard?”

Farmer bites the edge of his hand to keep the noise down that wants to spill out of him. His other hand is fumbling with the fly of his overalls, fingers stupid in his eagerness to get at his cock while he stares inside the little cabin.

Kent’s tense shoulders start to relax a little but he is still stoic and unmoving, staring at Elliott until the other starts to fidget even more and then says breathlessly like something inside him snapped: “Please fuck my nasty little pussy on your big fat cock! Please dick me down deep and make me take your cum! Please breed me up, please-”

Kent grunts and pulls him in then, burying his face in Elliott’s neck and curling his arms around his shoulders in a crushing hug.

He doesn’t say anything but it’s obvious he’s overwhelmed with emotion. When he pulls back a little to stare into Elliott’s face, his own cheeks are flushed a fetching red. Is he embarrassed somehow? Not enough to not be impossibly turned on, apparently. His cock is as hard as ever with that wicked upward curve that Farmer can’t just not stare at and fantasize about what it would feel like inside him.

It looks like it would be perfect to press into his prostate. A living, hot, fat prostate toy right there on this poor traumatized man.

Farmer is sure he could traumatize him a bit further if he just let him.

He’s also sure that Elliott could heal him if he just let him. At least it seems that way with how Kent is staring at him in that moment, gently gathering that long, red hair at the nape of Elliott’s neck and watching him and then leaning in for a kiss. Slow and wet and sensual and with so much emotion that it crawls down into Farmer’s belly and rolls up there like a little animal.

It looks like something that he wants. But he’s not too picky. He’ll settle for watching, too. Especially when Kent starts to bully Elliott over to the bed; not to put him down in it, just to lean him over the side of it, his hands stroking along his curved spine until Elliott whines and straightens it out.

He’d just need to lift his head and swing it a little to the right to basically come nose-to-nose with Farmer in the window. Hell, Kent would only need to pay some attention to the front himself; maybe check whether someone is visible because they don’t have any curtains pulled in front.

But neither does. So Farmer stays right where he is and watches and listens and squeezes his cock like he’s angry and the stupid thing when really, it’s the most innocent player in the whole game.

It’s just doing what it’s been designed to do; and it’s doing it wonderfully. Just a helpless, dumb dick twitching in his fingers and dribbling out excited pre-cum when Kent pulls on the plug inside Elliott and makes his muscles stretch around it and causes him to whine drawn out and delirious.

Elliott is talking again and who thought that he would have such a nasty mouth on himself? That he’d be a dirty talker that tends to blush and get nervous during normal everyday fucking conversations?!

Wonders never cease to be, it seems.

“S-stretch my pussy, please,” he whimpers, his back arching downward, hips tilting up further. “Just a little more. Just a l-l-little, oh God, it’s not… it’s not enough, Kent, please- just- Fuck, I need your dick. It’s so big and heavy and it f-f-fills my cunt so well. You make me feel so g-g-good you make me feel like the p-prettiest girl-”

Kent makes a sound then, cutting Elliott’s mad rambling off with a choked little whimper, his eyes huge and watery as he stares down at him. The toy is dangling from one lax finger. Farmer wishes he could see Elliott’s hole; how the muscles are so soft they are undoubtedly gaping open just for Kent.

There’s a heavy thud when the toy falls to the ground and Kent grabs Elliott’s hips, holding them nice and tight. Farmer can see how his thumbs are massaging in tight little circles into the small of the other’s back. Elliott whimpers, the sound reedy and almost too soft to hear through the cracked window.

Farmer’s cock jerks in his grip. He’s seen a lot of porn. He’s made a lot of porn. But there is something mesmerizing of watching something like this unfold right on front of him. Seeing and hearing the emotions warring inside Kent as he licks his lips a few times, trying to hype himself up into saying something and ultimately settling on: “You are the prettiest girl. Never seen someone like you.”

He takes one hand off Elliott’s hip and grips his cock, slowly starting to drag the tip along the cleft of his ass. Farmer wishes he could be closer. Could watch how it caught on the open gape of Elliott’s hole and vanish inside it for maybe an inch before being pulled out again.

Elliott visibly is holding his breath. It’s difficult to make out his expression with his hair falling like a curtain into his face, but Farmer wonders whether he even realizes that Kent might be truly in love with him. Not just playing along; not just humoring the fantasy, but really thinking that Elliott is gorgeous.

“Please,” Elliott whispers, voice breaking at the edges when Kent trails his cock once more up and down, not sliding in just yet. “Please, Kent.”

Kent swallows thickly. His jaw is set and his lips are pursed tightly. He looks angry, for all intents and purposes, but his movements are still gentle, still loving as he starts to slowly push into Elliott’s body.

Elliott throws his head back, jerking it impatiently to get the hair out of his face, his cheeks flushed red and skin glistening with the moisture of his sweat.

Kent quickly reaches forward, starts to gently gather up his hair again and holding it in a loose fist between his shoulder blades. Elliott smiles, his expression dreamy. He turns his head to peer behind himself at Kent and does not need to ask for the other to lean forward and give him a kiss, cock sliding deeper until he bottoms out and Elliott whines a high-pitched keen right into his mouth.

Farmer exhales a low moan himself, right into the crook of his elbow, trying to remain as quiet as possible while his eyes are glued on the both of them, watching them kiss, the slip of their tongues bright and wet between their lips, and Kent slowly rolling his hips in a few experimental, if awkward, thrusts.

There is nothing boyish about Kent. He’s hard and rugged all over; only the shade of his hair vaguely reminiscent of his son – but Farmer can’t help but think of Sam even so. That Kent, with just a bit of encouragement and the space allowed to breathe, would be just as eager and enthusiastic. Just a sweet and eager to please.

Though, really… looking at him… he is a complete service top. He keeps gently holding Elliott’s hair out of the way for him, his hips gentle and rutting, fucking him just hard enough to make him sing and not brutal enough to make him topple over and sprawl on the bed.

Elliott is digging his fingers into the bedding and Farmer just knows that that thick cock is feeling absolutely incredible inside him. He just knows that Elliott has gotten addicted to it a while back. That he laid in bed, waiting for this man to come back from deployment and desperately fucked himself on a toy.

Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he made himself wait. Edged himself into oblivion and back and that is why he’s always so spaced out and a bit funny with how far away from earth he sometimes appeared.

Farmer can understand that. He hadn’t really thought about Elliott all that much but just then he feels a kinship that has his chest ache alongside his cock as he jerks himself faster.

Kent leans away from the kiss. Drool stretches between their open, panting mouths and makes them both look so youthful and eager in that moment. Farmer drags his thumb tightly across his glans. The sensation shivers down his spine, settling hot and elastic in the small of his back. His eyes flutter closed and he just listens for the moment to the slap of skin on skin and the low, throaty whines pressed out of Elliott every time Kent pushes in deep and fills him up all anew.

“Gorgeous.”

Farmer’s eyes open, startled by the sound of Kent’s voice. Elliott must be just as taken aback because his eyes flutter open blearily, his mouth hanging slack, gasping. He half turns his head but he seems incapable of really committing to the motion. His arms are shaking desperately and he looks like he is not going to last for all that much longer.

“You are gorgeous,” Kent tells him in a low voice that somehow manages to be flat and yet full of emotion. “You are the prettiest-” He pauses, seems to think about his wife for a scant second, licks his lips and leans over Elliott’s back, his hips pumping faster in mind numbing plap, plap, plaps that dig themselves deeper and deeper into Farmer’s brain. “The prettiest girl there is.”

Farmer watches Elliott flush red hot down to his chest. His eyes tearing up as he twists again to beg for kisses that Kent gives him; and Farmer marvels at this little snippet of life he has been privy to. It has nothing to do with him. It feels part of a bigger story between these two men, but he is grateful that he had been in the right moment at the right time to witness it even so.

He hopes he will be able to catch them again someday.