It’s about 10am when I arrive at your home. You are both waiting for me, expectantly looking forward to an adventure that I have promised you both.
You are dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and little-boy trousers. You look like an adult dressed as a twelve year old. I also know two other things about you as I have instructed your mom to ensure that they are in place. The first is that you are not wearing underpants, the second is that your cock is secured in a pretty pink plastic cock cage.
Your mom looks magnificent. She's dressed in a halter top that displays her magnificent breasts to their full advantage. Beneath it she wears a short flared micro-skirt that scarcely covers her cunt. The outfit is set off with a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals.
You get into the back of the car, a beautiful red Corvette convertible and your mom joins me in the front. Before we drive off I slide my hand along her thigh. She opens her legs slightly and I move on up to the apex of her legs. Yes, as instructed, she is not wearing panties. My fingers briefly caress her naked shaven cunt lips and I feel them separate a little, welcoming my exploring fingertips.
We set off, leave town and drive out into the countryside for about twenty miles. The roads get ever narrower and more rural. Eventually we come to a rough track on the left side of the road. On the opposite road bank is a small wooden fingerpost with an obscure symbol on it, pointing down the track. I turn the car down it and drive carefully along it for about a quarter of a mile or so. Eventually we arrive at a farmhouse and some outbuildings.
Parked at the front of the house is a tractor with a man in his forties sitting in the cab. As we arrive, he turns the engine off. I pull up, switch my engine off too and turn to you. “Go and ask him for the code,” I tell you, “And if he gives you any instructions then you are to obey them without question.” You nod, intrigued, and open the rear door.
He clambers down from the tractor and you walk toward him. “Mornin’”he says, “Y’need the code?” You nod. “6523 today”, he says, “Kin you remember that?” You nod again, and stand in front of him. To your surprise, he reaches forward and slides his hand down inside the waistband of your shorts. As his fingers start to explore you feel your cock stiffen. He feels the cock-cage encasing you and chuckles. His fingers explore downward and caress your balls. Your stiffening little cock expands still further, feeling as though it might break the plastic sheath that surrounds it.
He brings his other hand forward, takes the waistband at the back of the shorts, then uses both hands to slide them down almost to your knees. Your caged cock is now clearly on view. He looks at it for a few moments, then says, “Pink eh? I reckon you're one of them sissy Bois.” You nod, nervously. “Well”, he continues, “I reckon ol’ Rick there will be fuckin’ my wife before the day’s out, how do you feel about my cock and that pretty little arse of yours?” It appeals to you greatly. You nod enthusiastically and your cock feels as though it's about to burst inside the imprisoning pink plastic. The farmer grins too. “Go give Rick that number, get yourselves inside and settled, have fun and I'll catch up with you later.”
You hitch up your shorts and return to the car. Your mom's skirt is bunched up around her waist. You watch as I gently stroke her cunt lips with my fingertips. Her vagina glistens with dewy moisture, it is very wet. She has a hand down the waistband of my trousers; you know that she is fingering my cock.
You jump back into the car. In front of us is the farmhouse, with several large barns away to the left. From the right-hand side of the house, extending along for a couple of hundred metres, is a thick, high, evergreen hedge. About a third of the way along this hedge is an entrance, gated with a solid metal door. We drive up to it, and I punch in the code numbers you've given me into a keypad mounted on a steel post a couple of metres short of the entrance.
The door opens, I drive us through, and then reverse into one of several parking spaces nearby. I turn off the engine and both you and your mom look around. “Welcome to The Farm”, I say, “There are a few things that I need to explain to you both before we go any further. The first and most important is this. This place is what you might call a libertine naturist club. Nudity, at pretty much all times, is important. There aren’t too many rules, but they count. The attitude here is very much “anything goes” within reason. Thus, if a member of equal or better standing here than you makes a sexual request of you then you are expected to comply. What do I mean by standing? Well, there are four levels of membership here. The first is non-members, which is what you both are at the moment. You can recognise a non-member, because they will be wearing a white wristband.” I reach forward, open the glovebox and fish out an envelope. From it I take two white wristbands and hand one to you and one to Lisa. you both slip them on. I continue. “As I say, nudity is the general rule, but you are permitted footwear, except in the swimming pool area, and small items that enhance or indicate your sexual tastes or preferences. Thus your cock cage is acceptable, as is the filigree chain your mom’s wearing which has the key to your cage on it. Items such as butt plugs and piercings are welcome, provided, in the case of the piercings, that they’re not over-done. Non-members are allowed a maximum of three visits, then they must either join or leave for ever. By the way, everyone has to sign an NDA and you can be sure that any breach of it will be dealt with severely. You may well meet people here who are known to the public and you may be surprised by the identity of some of them. Under no circumstances do you discuss the club with anyone else. If at some point in the future you want someone you know to visit then there’s a laid-down procedure to follow which I’ll explain in due course.”
“The next level of membership is that of “low standing”. These are people who have been provisionally accepted into membership here but are here on a probationary basis, usually for a year. If an LS member transgresses then the likelihood is that they will be made to leave and not allowed to return. If a more senior member transgresses then they may be reverted to LS status for a defined period of time.” LS members are identified by a green wristband.”
“The next level of membership is that of “regular standing”. These are members here who have successfully passed through their probationary period and are the ordinary members of the club. They have certain additional rights which I’ll explain when you need to know them. RS members wear an amber wristband.” At this I reach into the envelope again and pull out an amber band and put it onto my left wrist.
The final level is that of “high standing”. These are the senior members here, one or two elected by the membership each year, some through many years of unblemished membership, some because they provide particular services to the club. So, for example, Bob, the farmer that you met on the way in is an HS member, and when he’s in here rather than working on the farm, he’ll be wearing a red wristband.”
“I'm sorry if that's all very long-winded but it's important that you both understand the etiquette here. I love this place, I love the people that come here, I love the fun that I have here and the wide range of sexual predilections and experiences that are on offer. I hope you will both enjoy them too and benefit as much from them as I have. Do either of you have any questions?”
You both shake your heads to indicate that you don't. “OK”, I say, “Let's all strip off and then go across to the office and get the paperwork done.”We step out of the car and strip off, savouring the feeling of the warm summer sun on our bodies. I lead the two of you across toward the back of the farmhouse. As we walk, you both look around, taking in the scene. The grounds are immaculate, beautifully manicured lawns and paths, wooden seats some with cushions, dotted about, and a number of small cabins. You can see that the hedge through which we entered at the ground extends around all four sides of the extensive area that it encloses. The water in a ground-level swimming pool glints invitingly nearby. There are eight or nine people scattered about, male and female, of varying adult ages and all naked.
As we walk along the path to the back of the farmhouse we pass a bench. Two men are sitting on its padded seat, on towels that have been laid on it. One of them appears to be in his mid sixties, with trim grey hair and moustache, he is slim, with a bearing about him that might best be described as “military”. The second guy is much younger, probably in his mid twenties. They are openly masturbating each other, sitting shoulder to naked shoulder, each with a hand around the other's hard cock, slowly and intimately massaging.
Our approach does not put either of them off their slow, languorous stroking of the other's rampant penis. You notice that both are of a good size and you feel a thrill of both excitement and envy run through you.
“Good morning, Colonel” I say, as we arrive in front of them. “Morning Rick”, he replies, “Have you brought along some new friends?” “ I surely have,” I reply, “Let me introduce you to Lisa, and her son, Ryan.” He looks you both up and down and very evidently likes what he sees.
