When I was seventeen-years-old my dad was transferred to a small town. At the company he worked for dad was renowned as ‘the repairer.’ The retail department store chain that my father was employed at was very successful and had over one hundred stores in various towns and cities. Dad was famous for sorting out problems in stores that were on the decline and then restoring them to their former glory. Needless to say, we often moved from place to place and very seldom lived anywhere for more than a year. Our family was used to this phenomenon and we always took it in our stride. All the moves we paid for by my dad’s company and they always arranged excellent accommodation for us.
The store where my dad was seconded to, on this occasion, serviced a small town that had a large outlying rural community. Although it had once been one of the top stores in the group, in recent times business had slumped. It was, therefore, my father’s responsibility to analyze the dwindling fortunes of the store and see if he could improve matters.
The new school that I attended in this town provided me with quite a challenge and being a city boy, I stuck out like a sore thumb. My clothing was a little too fashionable and the highlights in my blond hair, subtle as they were, caused a great deal of comment, especially from the other guys. One hefty individual named Roger was particularly derisive about my looks. Although his ribbing was initially verbal, it shortly took on a physical dimension. Slight as I was, I was certainly no match for him.
During break time at school one day, Roger and two of his equally disgusting buddies, cornered me for a roughing up. As they began shoving and pushing me around, out of the corner of my eye I saw a really well-built guy named Dixon approaching us. Dixon was a sturdy eighteen-year-old farm boy who mainly kept to himself. Unengaging as he was, nevertheless, it was widely acknowledged that one simply didn’t mess with him.
“Have you guys got a problem, Roger?” Dixon asked as he arrived alongside us.
“No,” Roger replied, as the usual snarl rapidly evaporated from his face. “I was just having a chat with pretty-boy.”
“It didn’t look like a chat to me,” Dixon replied while running the back of his hand to and fro across the bottom of his nose. Dixon then also widened his stance in an aggressive manner.
“I don’t like you, Roger. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to fuck you up. If you or your buddies ever mess with Wren again, or even walk in the same passage as him, well… then I’ll be having a chat with you. Are we clear on this?” Dixon menacingly warned.
Sheepishly, Roger and his cronies left with their tails between their legs. I was amazed that Dixon even knew my name.
As they scuttled away, Dixon turned to me and said, “I hate that fat fucker.” Then, turning his attention to me he inquired, “Are you okay, Wren?”
“Yes… thanks,” I responded.
Smiling, Dixon then asked, “Would you like a sandwich?”
“Actually, I have my own food, but thank you,” I answered.
“Yeah… but I’ll bet it’s nothing like one of my mom’s sandwiches,” he answered, with a self-confident grin.
Next, he suggested, “Let’s take a seat over there,” as his eyes indicated that we should head off to a bench nearby.
After we were seated, Dixon opened a container with three large sandwiches that were cut into halves. After removing one of the halves, he handed it to me. I had never seen a sandwich so stuffed with beef. Not wanting to be rude and especially after what Dixon had just done for me, I took a bite. It was totally delicious. The homemade sweet mustard on it was incredible. Dixon then told me that his mom always insisted on making three sandwiches for him, although he only ever managed to eat two of them.
As we munched and chatted, Dixon told me that his dad owned a very large farm in the area. He also went on to say that his older brother was already working on the farm. In addition, he proudly mentioned that when he graduated from the school in eight months’ time, he would also be joining them on the farm.
Thereafter, our initial encounter turned into a daily routine and we became good friends. The sandwiches his mom made were always scrumptious and Dixon was very pleased that he had someone to share them with. I particularly loved the peanut butter and bacon sandwiches his mom made, a combination I would formerly never have dreamed of.
I also learned about Dixon’s passion for archery during our get-togethers. On their vast property, they had a large woodland area where at least once a month, Dixon would spend a Friday and Saturday night camping out in his tent. He always took his bow and arrows along on these outings and apart from practicing his skill, Dixon would also hunt for fowl, geese, and rabbits.
I imagined that if the entire world’s population were wiped out and I was left alone on earth with one other person, the person I would choose would be Dixon. One just knew that he was one of the most self-sufficient humans alive. I know that you must be thinking why I wouldn’t choose a family member, but this being a fantasy about survival, just like me, none of my family members would be worth a dime.
As we ate our sandwiches one morning at school, Dixon asked me if I would like to join him on one of his outings that weekend. Although I wasn’t really into roughing it, I simply couldn’t refuse. Dixon promised me that he would only expose me one night of roughing it in the outdoors and resultantly, we would spend the Friday night in his bedroom and only camp out on Saturday.
On the Friday evening that I arrived at Dixon’s home for the weekend, his mother had made the most incredible stew. After dinner, unlike the custom in their home, I offered to assist his to mother clear the table and help wash the dishes. As the other three men at the table gawked at me in disbelief, I got up to assist Dixon’s mother in the kitchen. The three men then continued chatting. To be exact, Dixon’s dad and brother did most of the talking.
In whispered tones in the kitchen, Dixon’s mother spoke to me as we went about our business. Their family had all believed that Dixon may have had Asperger’s syndrome a few years earlier, because of his social ineptitude. This, however, was not the case and Dixon was simply an introvert. She couldn’t thank me enough for befriending him. According to her, Dixon had really come out of his shell since meeting me. Frankly, I told her that I really enjoyed his company and considered him a really great friend.
By the time Dixon’s mom and I returned to the table, the men had an arm wrestling contest on the go. What astonished me was how easily Dixon overpowered his father and brother. They were simply no match for him.
Although I am sure that the two men of Dixon’s family had not viewed me as ‘normal’ initially, when I related the amusing incident at school with Roger, it was as if the ice had been broken.
After Dixon’s mother announced that she was heading off to bed and did so, his dad looked at me and asked, “Wren, would you like to be initiated in country luxury?”
I had no idea what he was talking about and simply shrugged quizzically.
“Shall we show him, boys?” he then asked.
Both Doug, Dixon’s brother, and Dixon nodded enthusiastically.
“Doug, why don’t you get the generator going,” Ken, Dixon’s dad, then suggested.
Twenty minutes later, when we moved outside and approached a wooden construction, I was still none the wiser about the surprise that awaited me.
Inside the wooden structure there was a narrow rectangular entrance with a shower to the left, and numerous pegs to the right. When all the men commenced stripping, I simply followed suit. At this point, I was becoming rather nervous because all the men were ultra-masculine and good-looking. All I could think about was how I was going restrain myself from popping a boner. Once we were all naked, my eyes spun in my head as I observed the three most impressive uncut dicks I had ever seen. These guys were really well-endowed!
Once inside the adjoining steam room, after we were seated, to my dismay the trio sat wide legged with their jewels unabashedly on display. I thought I had died and arrived in butch heaven. Doug also had the habit of continuously groping his package.
“Jesus, Doug, leave that ugly thing of yours alone for a fucking minute,” Ken eventually said.
“Jeez, pop, give me a break already,” Doug replied with a snigger.
My hand ached as I watched this display, wishing that I could help Doug out.
After forty minutes of ‘torture,’ my ordeal finally ended when we all moved next door and rinsed off under the shower.
When Dixon and I arrived in his bedroom, a new dilemma unfolded. He insisted that I sleep in his bed with him in a sleeping bag on the floor.
“I can’t do that,” I protested, “This is your bed.”
“You’re the guest,” he insisted, before resuming, “And as this is my room, I call the shots.”
Defeated, I lay in his bed as instructed. The smell of the linen was heavenly as I made myself comfortable and without much further ado, I was soon sound asleep.
Unbenownst to me, with farmers, the activity in the household got going by six o’clock in the morning. When I was finally awoken at seven-fifteen, the truck that Dixon and I would be using was fully stocked with all we would need for our adventure, and all I had to do was sit down to breakfast.