When my long-term relationship ended I decided to move to a remote one-horse village. Business in the place consisted of one shop across the road from me on the main road, a pub about one hundred metres away on my right, and my gallery. There were also about forty homes scattered about and a population of no more than one hundred people living there. My decision to open the gallery was that the village was on a tourist route and also housed ten full-time artists. The artists only opened their homes to the public twice a year, for two days during an art route. I figured that with the gallery, I could offer them full-time representation in their own town. The idea was welcomed by the artists and I received their full support.

The region was essentially a farming community and the town was regularly frequented by all the farmers in the neighbouring area. There were also several nearby towns ranging from ten to twenty miles away, and the inhabitants of these places also often visited our small village. The men in the district were all very butch and I had a constant supply of eye candy from the shop across the road. Visiting the pub was also a source of total delight to me and I would often be in horny overload upon my return home. Having never hidden the fact that I was gay, my initial presence was met with scepticism from many of the locals. After a few months, however, the novelty had worn off and everyone became much friendlier toward me.

The people in the area were a very earthy bunch and apart from their crude language could be very vulgar at times. It took a few months to get used to this but I quickly got into the swing of things and eventually overlooked this inconsequential oddity. As I settled in, the place grew on me and I was soon extremely pleased with my ridiculous decision to live here. Although I had visitors to the gallery during the week, they were few and far between. Most of the business usually happened on weekends when the village got a lot busier.

***

One Wednesday I sauntered across the road to buy a few things. Apart from Mannie, the shopkeeper who was there as usual, a very tall man named Tom was also in the shop. I had seen Tom from time to time but he had not really made a great impression on me. He was rather sinewy and tall, standing at about six-feet-four-inches tall. While in the shop it struck me that he was actually better looking than I had initially thought. Tom wore wellington boots, long shorts in need of a wash, and a t-shirt that had seen better days. His hands were huge and definitely belonged to a farmer. Tufts of dark hair sprouted out from under a baseball cap he was wearing. He had two day old stubble and a rather thick moustache.

Tom had a lovely smile and intense green eyes. All in all, he was quite hot! Mannie then introduced me as David and then made a crass joke. He said that he was dying to try-out the gay thing, before adding, “If you can take the shit, I can take the pain.” As normal, he almost split a gut at his own joke. Tom and I politely laughed along.

Mannie also mentioned to Tom that I made the best coffee in the entire area. One of my few extravagances before moving here was a Swiss coffee machine, which I had purchased because of my obsession with the beverage.

After I returned to my gallery I was surprised ten minutes later, when Tom announced himself at the door. Naturally, I offered him coffee before he took a brief walk around the gallery. He then inquired about a narrow staircase in the entrance that lead up to my studio and bedroom. Tom then asked if he could take a look up there. As he did so I followed him up the stairs.

When we arrived upstairs my heart almost stopped. My computer was on and was displaying my collection of naked men as screensavers.

Tom then placed his hand under my chin and tilted my head towards him. With his thumb, he traced the outline of my mouth before pushing his thumb between my lips encouraging my mouth to open. Following that, Tom inserted three fingers into my mouth. As I sucked on his fingers I could clearly see signs of movement in front of his shorts. A fourth finger was now added as he cupped the back of my head with his other hand. As he played in my mouth, spit started drooling down my chin and onto my shirt. Next, he instructed me to pull his shorts down. A large dark uncut cock emerged after I did so.

His dick had a slight downward curve and there was a thick vein that meandered from the base of his knob, almost all the way to the tip. After removing his fingers from my mouth he placed both his hands on my head and pushed the fleshy cylinder towards my lips. His entry was slow at first, but soon he was applying pressure to the back of my head as his cock slid in deeper and deeper. Once the monster had broken through the back of my throat he started skull-fucking me in earnest. As he began to groaning loudly my drool became a torrent and shortly, the entire front of my shirt was wet. When he was about to cum he retracted his cock and gave me a spunk facial of epic proportions.

Tom then scooped all his cum off my face and fed it to me. The lumpy seed had a fantastic taste. After I licking his hands I also cleaned his cock and balls thoroughly. Before we descended the stairs I put on a clean shirt. As he was leaving he told me that he would be coming for coffee every Wednesday. I was also informed that we would be taking things a lot further the following week.

A week later at eight o’clock in the morning, an hour before my gallery opened, there was a knock at my door. Tom was standing there when I opened the door.

“Hi,” I said, “Have you come for a cup of coffee?”

“No,” he replied, “I’ve come to fuck you, get your fucking arse upstairs.”

I lead the way and after we arrived upstairs I looked at him in anticipation. “Don’t waste my time, strip and assume the doggy position on the bed,” he informed me.

“Let me get some lube,” I advised.

“Nah… I’ll supply the lube,” he commanded.

After removing my pants I got on the bed as instructed. I then heard him spitting twice before I felt his cock at my pucker. Tom was not a patient fucker and seconds later he thrust his knob into me. As I yelped I got two hefty smacks on my arse.

“Shut the fuck up you pussy,” he said, as he speared into me.

Thankfully, the discomfort shortly subsided. As I continued to yelp he spanked my backside. “Shut your mouth pussy-boy, this is exactly what you deserve,” he intoned.

Tom was not into gentle fucking and pummelled me relentlessly. As he did so I felt his fist hitting the small of my back. It wasn’t hectic and I was totally into his authoritarian roleplay. A few minutes later with his rough hands frantically pulling my rump onto his dick, Tom commenced unloading his spunk into my arse.

Once he had exacted his dick he told me to kneel before him and lick his dick clean. Afterward, he began to piss all over my head and body.

“Fuck yeah,” he exclaimed as he did so, uttering a string of expletives in the process. Finally, after slapping my face with his cock a few times he concluded, “I’ll see you next week you fucking pussy.”

With a laugh, Tom pulled up his pants and left.