Low Lane Farm Chapter 8b.

Low Lane Farm
Chapter 8b.

 
  “Waterproofs !?” Lee smirked to himself, as
an afterthought to Dermot’s comment. He’d been given some old, ripped up
workman’s trousers made of yellow PVC, with torn pockets and frayed legs. He
knew he’s need something more substantial to keep him drier and cleaner, once
he started sifting the wet mud.

  But that was tomorrow’s task. He had arrived
in the farm yard. The heaviest clumps of clay had fallen from his boots as he
slouched up the lane; now he stood in dirty joggers, a splattered top, an open
hi-viz sleeveless jacket and the Wellington boots he thought of now as his. He
was becoming a true son of the soil – from head to toe !

  He quickly phoned his mother, who expressed
concern about his eating, and then he continued approaching the buildings. No
vehicles, no sounds apart from the wind. The daylight was fading too. First he
found the key to the stable block, behind a plant pot, and checked it worked.
The wooden door opened easily, revealing the stairs within. That’s where he’d
curl up later.

  The farm house stood obviously empty. The
adjacent outbuildings were nearby, housing some bigger boots – he knew, having
seem a door ajar once when Dermot drove slowly through. Ben had been standing
holding 2 pairs of waders, looking as if he were coming out. Lee hoped big time
that they were still inside.

  The first door he pushed open was full of
logs and coal; the second a load of old junk to his eyes. The third made his
cock stand instantly hard in his joggers.

  Not only did he spot old waders hanging from
hooks, he spotted about 3 racks full of filthy old wellies, overalls hanging
from nails and assorted other clothing dumped on the soil floor. His brain went
into over-drive. The selection of items took his mind back to being a kid in a
sweet shop. What to choose first ? He really could not decide. Adjusting his
cock to a vertical position, he took a step inside.

  There must have been 50 pairs of boots in
there, waiting for him in the gloom. Sadly there wasn’t a light. HE now knew
that his bosses had a thing for old workwear and mud ! He had suspected it, but
hadn’t wanted to give anything away about himself. Even he was still coming to
terms with getting so turned on by being stuck fast in acres of clinging, deep,
thick clay. The sights and sounds of hauling his wellies out of the squelching
mud were enough to make him erupt time after time. Knowing he was wearing
somebody else’s gear did it for him too – now he had the chance to REALLY test
drive a load of the other guys’ gear !

  He reached up and held the dirty old green
army overall. It was dry and dusty, and he knew he had to wear it. And the
straight topped waders he saw at his feet. And some mud caked rubber gloves on
a hook opposite. And.....

  Suddenly his phone rang.

  He nearly died on the spot. His mind was in
another place. He snapped back to reality, back to knowing that he shouldn’t be
there at all.

  “Who the fuck...?” He fished the mobile out
of his joggers and stared at the number. Not one he recognised.

  “Hello....” he started, hesitantly. He knew
he had his Mother’s and Dermot’s numbers stored.

  “Hi, it’s Jonny”.

  Lee looked immediately over his shoulder.
Panic shot through his whole body. He released his grip on the overalls and
started backing outside.

  “Sorry to bother you,” Jonny continued, “but
are you still at the site ?”

  “Yes,” Lee lied. A croak in his dry throat.

  “Great, I thought you would be. As soon as we
got to London we knew one night wouldn’t be enough, so we’ll be away for three  days – is that OK ?”

  Lee collapsed silently against the door
frame, looking skyward. “No problem” he muttered feebly back.

  “Help yourself in the stable block, Ben put
fresh milk in the fridge yesterday. If the weather’s shit and you finish early
use the shower too if you need to. I know it’s a mucky job...”

  “But someone’s got to do it...” Lee thought
to himself. “Thanks, yeah...” was his real response. They exchanged a few
pleasantries and the phone went dead. Lee was now officially alone at Low Lane
Farm. The quagmire was his to explore at leisure !

  By now he was nearly needing a torch. He
pulled the faded, drab green army overalls down, Jonny’s he suspected, judging
by the size, and began removing his gear. He kicked the battered wellies off
easily, then pulled down his grey joggers. He let them fall on the dirt floor.
The hi viz vest he let drop too. The late winter air was cool enough to warrant
layers on top as he plunged his right socked foot down into the green material.
His left foot followed and he carefully started to button up the garment.

  He had never worn overalls before, but looked
the look and feeling. Army cotton all the way from his shoulders to his feet.
He picked his Wellingtons up again and thrust them back on before walking
outside to see what he looked like. He walked around for a few minutes, kicking
at the ground, stomping through puddles, admiring his look. His cock was
desperate for attention, almost coming alive in his pants.

  He knew he wanted to be naked in them.
Quickly he went back indoors, stripped everything off except his big seaboot
socks and quickly pulled the overalls back on – Jonny’s overalls. He could only
imagine what fun and games his handsome boss had had wearing them. He knew he’d
love to play with Jonny and Ben in the mud, but he knew that was most unlikely.

  Now for those ancient Century waders. He’s
seen the rectangular label before. They were impossibly plastered in drying
mud. Must have been worn recently, he thought to himself. Mud and clay fell off
as he gathered the leg of the overalls around his ankle and gingerly pushed his
right foot inside. The boot was way too big. Ben’s ?

  He dragged it up his thigh until it touched
his tent-pole which his crutch had become. Glancing inside the second wader a
very feint 12 stamp was just visible.

  He had never worn such massive boots before.
The sensation drove him half wild. A seeping damp patch of pre-cum smeared the
inside of the overalls as he stepped noisily outside into the rapidly darkening
evening. He HAD to have a muddy walk to feel exactly what size 12 boots and
overalls felt like ! It didn’t matter if they got even more plastered, they’d
dry before anyone would find them, after all.

  Back out of the farm, the track was bordered
by ploughed fields and set-aside areas. The field on the right, which Lee had
driven past many times, never seemed to dry out. It had been deeply ploughed in
the autumn – until the time the John Deere got hopelessly stuck, and Ben had to
be rescued. Since then, the tractor furrows had filled with water, the soil
remained saturated and a very interesting looking turning circle had been
totally impassable. This was where Lee was headed, lolloping along almost at a
jog, in the hugely over-sized boots. The rubber flapped around his thighs, his
feet slipped around inside the boots which had a life of their own,his cock
swung like a pendulum.

  He reached the gateway and stepped inside.

  A very different sea of mud to the one he
worked in daily. This one was more of a darker loam soil, which had been
untouched for weeks. And yet the deep, wet wheel tracks looked fresh.  He wallowed straight into one and proceeded
forwards at about 10 inches deep.

  He gouged the enormous feet along through the
creamy mud, lifting them occasionally to view the pile of wet slop on his boots
they became lumpy and unrecognisable.  Heading downhill slightly, he knew things were
getting deeper. 15 or 16 inches deep now – his Wellingtons would really have
struggled. He didn’t like the thought of over-topping them with cold water, so
was delighted to have great , tall rubber shafts up to his balls.

  Near the turning curve he lost his balance
slightly. He slammed his left foot into the mound of mud between the tracks –
and sank...

  The dense, deep sludge was being held
together by the water only, so when Lee plunged heavily into it, the sodden
mound gave way.

  He re-gained his balance, a few inches over
knee deep. The wet ground seemed to be wanting to devour him. A sensation he
knew he could not resist. He hauled the huge wader out of the gloopy mud and
held it over the thicker sludge for a moment – them slammed it in hard ! The
tractor had churned everything to a smooth, now thickening consistency. He was
instantly half standing in about 20 inches of gluey ooze which wanted to hold
him. Gaining his balance he brought the right boot in to join its partner. At
that point he had to reach for his throbbing uncut cock. He scraped the massive
boots along the ground knowing he could fall at any second; they became so
balled up underground that after 3 or 4 minutes all he could do was lean
slightly forward.  He slowly, silently
sank to about 45 degrees – but still standing up. The mud had him !

  He bent his knees a little and lunged
instantly to the tops of Ben’s waders. 30 inches of rubber had vanished in the
thickening sludge, the thighs of Jonny’s overalls were perilously close to
succumbing too. He continued leaning ever so slightly further forward, his mind
racing. He wanted the tip of his throbbing cock to just touch the cool mud...

  He thought about what happened next for a
long time afterwards !

  The consistency was just right for his hard
cock to plunge into it and tease it, and leave the hole where it had been. He
became mesmerised.

  His beautiful, slim dick pointing out of some
borrowed overalls, being naked beneath, in Ben’s oversized waders, in a sea of
mud. He leant further down, to a perilous angle and plunged his cock in all the
way, until the eight inches was fucking the mud and the overalls were beginning
to get damp.

  He carried on. Possessed by the whole
situation ! He withdrew his cock by arching his back – he then realised he
couldn’t easily move the waders at all. They had become stuck fast, the mud
having oozed over the backs of his legs, taking him prisoner.  This made his cock even harder still. The mud
was seeping into the overalls as he began slowly fucking the mud, slapping his
stomach further and further into it...

  In the back of his mind he was thinking the
gear would dry out – or he could hide it. They had plenty of other boots, after
all ! But for now he just had to go for it !

  He rammed his cock into the thick mud again
and again, the waders filling up with mud now at the front, his overalls sodden
and heavy. His arms were plunged in too, way past the elbows. He was getting so
close to shooting his load – having never been so fucking filthy in his life.  He wanted to roll over and finish jerking
himself off, but found it almost impossible to move.

  Very slowly he started a sort of roll onto
his left side – the waders firmly anchored in the deep mud. He pushed and
hauled – sweating by now – until one boot dislodged itself a bit and he managed
to fall onto his left side. Half his entire body was now a mass of dark brown
sludge.  After many minutes writhing and
submerging himself even more, he made it onto his back. His legs were still a
bit twisted, as the oversized waders had minds of their own – remaining very
deeply stuck.

  After more struggling he was fully,
comfortably on his back. He had to let his head fall backwards through
exhaustion. The cool, wet mire made a comfortable pillow as he actually
realised what he was doing. He looked very swiftly around him in the fading
light and  - without touching it – his
cock exploded ! Wave after wave of hot cum jetted out all over his stomach and
chest, soaking the overalls again. His whole body finally juddering to a halt.

  After what seemed an age, Lee managed to sit
upright. He thought he had actually passed out for a short while, so violent
was his orgasm, so relaxed his body. Trying to stand was another matter. The
enormous waders were plastered inside and out and weighed a ton each; the
overalls – no longer green – likewise. He was panting wildly for breath in the
cold evening air, when he eventually managed to writhe round  to his knees in the middle of the sodden,
churned up field.

  Plunging his arms in again for balance , he
struggled to stand. Eventually gaining his balance, the lad made his first
faltering, filthy steps. He was almost totally covered in heavy, clinging wet
soil now, resulting in gouging his feet forwards, falling frequently, crawling
for a bit towards the field edge and slightly drier ground.

  Reaching the gateway again, Ben’s huge waders
collapsed under their own weight and flapped around Lee’s shins. The young guy
was shattered now, panting hard and suddenly feeling cold. He meandered down to
the farm yard, which remained silent and pitch black. He was praying the
evening’s adventure would remain indelibly in his brain for the rest of his
life as he rounded the final corner. He smiled to himself and gave his cock a
friendly rub.

  Suddenly a bright light appeared from above
him. He thought he was going to have a heart attack Somebody must have come
back. What if they’d found his stuff ? And the shed door open ?

  He shielded his eyes until they grew
accustomed to the glare – only to realise he had triggered a sensor. Jonny and
Ben often had to work after dark in the winter so an outside light was
imperative, a fact that filtered into Lee’s exhausted mind. This, at least,
would made getting tidied up easier.

  He ambled to the shed door and kicked off the
wrecked waders. One sea boot sock came too.

  Next he shrugged himself out of the heavy,
wet overalls and stood for a moment in one dirty sock.  He looked down at the aftermath of his
adventure as his cock began to rise again, as if it too were enjoying the scene
of destruction.

  Heading to the outside tap, Lee washed his
hands and lower arms, then pulled on his grubby work gear.  Barefoot now, he grabbed the first pair of
Wellington boots he could reach. Century Safety boots with enormous green steel
toe caps, he noticed.  He didn’t care
about the size – he wanted to be in the warm now. Lumbering around as carefully
as he could, he hung the muddy garments up on hooks, with the intention of
tidying up in daylight.

  He headed to the stable block door, unlocked
it, switched on the light and went inside. It was quite warm, plainly decorated
and completely silent. So quiet in fact, that he could hear the blood rushing
in his veins. He knew he shouldn’t really
be in there, and certainly not in a mud-smeared state, in danger of leaving
marks and traces everywhere in his wake !  He knew if he shook off the steelies he would
leave footprints up the fawn carpet, so he gave them a good brushing on the mat
and hoped for the best.

  Upstairs he found a well-appointed loft
conversion : a small kitchen, a clean shower room and a living room. He knew he
could crash out on the settee. He felt as if he could sleep standing up !

  Following a steamy hot shower, a mug of
coffee and the discovery of some frozen food items, he popped a  chicken-ding in the microwave and sat down.
The machine’s ding woke him up about 4 minutes’ later. He devoured the food –
had a second, Chow mein this time, and fell fast asleep, naked ,where he sat.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  The next morning he was awoken by a vehicle.
Initially he didn’t know where he was. He shot up from the settee just in time
to see the post van leaving.

He
remembered the night before with a massive surge of excitement, then thought of
covering his tracks. Whilst the kettle boiled, he padded around the flat. In
the bedroom was a double wardrobe. He innocently opened it, hoping for something
he could borrow.

  He certainly wasn’t expecting a new pair of
orange overalls, labelled Dickies and a pristine pair of ancient, black rubber
chest waders.............