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Low Lane Farm - Chapter 10

Low Lane Farm

Chapter 10.

Before he could really engage his brain, Lee grabbed Jack's neck and pulled his face towards him. Their lips locked and in no time Jack's tongue had invaded Lee's hot mouth. It flicked around wildly, making Lee moan with sheer pleasure . This again was totally unchartered waters for him, but he knew he wanted this lad.

He pulled back, gasping for air, watching saliva drip from Jack's mouth. He couldn't believe the sight in front of him. A hot young guy, plastered in runny mud, wearing the enormous BTR waders he had “borrowed” only a couple of hours before.

Jack hauled his right foot slowly upwards with a loud Thwwk . So much clay was on the boot he could barely lift it. He rammed it into the sludge between Lee's feet and started rubbing his leg against Lee's overalls. A mass of oozing mud got smeared from one lad to the other. Lee could feel the dampness seep through the material, Jack continued to thrust forwards , his right leg going up and down Lee's thighs coating everything is a thick layer of brown.

Very slowly Jack starting falling forwards, despite his left boot being anchored. Lee's feet were also knee deep and not moving. Somehow Jack managed to right himself, so he continued smearing the thick grey/brown clay from the enormous BTRs up and down Lee's thigh and knee. Jack's wellies had vanished. Lee began to moan .

The wader was impossibly heavy, so Jack had to almost entwine his leg around Lee's . The thick, sticky glutinous noise of the mud was all they could hear, aside from very heavy breathing. Jack couldn't exactly feel Lee's rock hard cock through the thick black rubber, but he knew it was there. He shoved his knee higher and put more pressure in it. That's when they both slowly, oozily fell over.

Jack positioned the wader between Lee's thighs and plunged it up and down a dozen times , slightly softening the mud and coating the rubber even more. The wet, squelchy noises brought both of the lads even closer. Somehow Jack thrust his knee onto Lee's crutch and gently massaged the other lad's cock. Lee was almost covered in clay as Jack applied a final bit of pressure.

Lee couldn't control himself. He was sweating, despite the air. His breathing got harder as Jack started to lay on him, sinking into the thick mud. He kissed Lee hard on the mouth again just as he began to cum. Waves shot from him, smearing the sodden overalls. He really was a proper mud man now. No fantasies, no videos. He was living this unforgettable moment. His first time with another guy, and in the most perfect filthy way.

“Will that do you ?” Jack cheekily asked, looking at his new friend's flushed face.

Lee was panting as if he'd run a marathon. He couldn't believe the sight in front of him. A very good looking dark haired lad in enormous chest waders, and all around them was the thick clay almost swallowing them whole.

“My turn now” Jack called. “Lift your foot up!”

Lee looked at him questioningly. He tried to, but the Le Cham was completely buried.

Jack noisily hauled himself to his feet, the mud sucking hungrily at his boots. He stood aside Lee, looking like a Collusus. A mud caked statue. A statue with a wicked glint in its eye.

He leant down and started to dig away some of the mud. Very slowly the left Wellington revealed itself. All the way to his chest, Lee was impossibly heavily daubed in clay. He didn't think he'd ever stand again. He felt as if he could lay there forever, reliving what had just happened.

Jack hauled on Lee's leg, dragging the totally plastered boot from the ground. He tried to adjust his footing, but the size 12s had sunk again. He hauled with all his might to pull the boot up. The thick, sticky suction eventually gave a little. Still holding Lee's foot he stepped forcibly forward and stopped, allowing the wellie to land heavily at the tops of his legs. The squidging, gluey sounds continued, as Jack forced Lee's foot heavily against his straining cock. The chesties were driving him crazy anyway, and now more thick clay was being transferred back to him.

With great experience he managed to thrust himself forwards and backwards, whilst rubbing the boot up and down. Suddenly an almost feral moaning started in his throat. Lee looked both scared and totally in awe.

Jack's breathing got faster and his volume increased as Lee's foot involuntarily got roughly pushed and shoved around, until Jack let out almost a roar. What seemed like 10 minutes later Jack let go of Lee's leg and let it drop heavily back into the churned up morass.

“Fucking Hell, that was good !!!” he bellowed. Lee looked delighted.

Gradually Jack started to extricate himself from the battlefield. He stumbled a few times as he retreated. Once on slightly firmer ground, still breathing heavily he turned and said that he'd better get on.

“I'll catch you later” he shouted and yomped back to the quad.

In no time he was on it and the sound of the engine brought Lee to his senses.

“ BUT...WHAT ABOUT....” he yelled, to no avail “ what about the waders ?” he concluded in a normal voice.

Too late, Jack was racing out of the gateway, waving over his shoulders. Suddenly he had gone.

Lee was both happily shattered and seriously worried about the once new chesties.

Christ, all this and he hadn't had breakfast yet.

About ten minutes later, Lee realised he must move from his remarkable clay bed. He thought he had actually fallen asleep a bit, so forced himself to come to his senses. He tried hard to sit up, but his sodden old overalls were as one with the mud. He was so heavily plastered he could barely move. He tried to lift a leg, it too weighed a ton and didn't seem to want to behave either. Gradually he started to roll left and right to create some space between him and the clay.

A few minutes after that he was able to plunge his left elbow into the quagmire and begin to prize himself up a bit more. He hauled Jack's boot out and flopped it heavily on his other side almost forming the recovery position, which allowed him to gradually get to his knees. It started to drizzle as he knelt there utterly filthy and shattered. He was getting cold now. Part of him wanted a hot shower and to go back to bed, but his conscience reminded him that Dermot might nip back and that Ben and Jonny were returning the next day.

He slurped his body vertically and managed to stand, the big wellies planted almost to their tops in the churned up gloop. Gradually he started to step forward, noisily plunging his feet into the deep sludge, making slow progress towards the lower gate.

The rain got harder and his overalls were completely sodden. He knew he had to get back to the boot shed as quickly as possible to change. Wet mud was slopping from his body down his legs as he turned the corner into the silent farmyard. He spotted the previous day's overalls on the washing line. No point hanging anything else now the weather had changed. He lumbered into the dark, dry shed and flicked on the light.

The heady aroma of rubber and canvas, damp clothes and mud hit his nostrils powerfully. His cock started to tent the filthy overalls. There was nothing he could do to stop this involuntary reaction. Under different circumstances he could have gone beserk in there, thrashing his plastered body amongst the boots and gear, hauling them off the shelves and burying himself in a mound of old boots. But common sense had to prevail, sadly. He had to crack on up the lane, and make the place here look untouched that evening. There might not be another chance to be alone on the farm, after all.

At the back, on a shelf , were some folded waterproofs. He grabbed one dusty dark green item, a jacket, and found underneath if the matching trousers. Obviously very well-worn. The fact they were used really appealed to Lee. Besides, after he had done a few hours grafting they would be infinitely muddier than they were now.

He prized off Jack's right boot and wriggled off the other using his socked foot. He sea boot socks were the cleanest items on him, and they were far from spotless ! He undid the poppers down the front of the overalls and shrugged them off his shoulders. The wet mud did the rest, as the sodden weight made them fall to his feet. Carefully he stepped out of them and stood admiring the scene. One almost naked lad surrounded by battered, muddy clothing. Alone. Horny.

Later, he promised himself.

He reached down, pulled his grubby socks up and gingerly stepped into the waterproof trousers. The PVC felt freezing on his bare legs. He noticed an old quilted shirt hanging on a nail behind the door , so he quickly pulled that on before the mucky jacket. Now, at least, he would be dry to continue working. He knew he would

be warm enough in no time.

He had formulated a plan, if the rain did continue, he would shift a quantity of the wet mud into the barn, close the door and spent a few hours sieving. That way Dermot couldn't ask him what he'd been up to skiving. He was hardly likely to weigh the amount of sieved soil, if indeed he came back at all.

Lee pulled the Le Chams back on, knowing that Jack must return soon. Surely ? If they were at the barn, then they could swop boots again and they were quits. Except for the mess the BTRs were in. He couldn't fathom how he would have the time or opportunity to return them to their original condition. Maybe he could hide them, do it gradually, and nobody would be any the wiser...

He switched off the light, firmly closed the door and trudged back up the lane. It was still barely 11:00 ffs. He walked as quickly as the muddy track would allow and was soon devouring both packs of Aldi sandwiches which Dermot had provided. And the crisps and a can of pop.

He went to the back of the barn, where his big Century steelies were waiting. The feet were far too big for him practically, but he loved their size and weight. He thought an extra pair of socks might help, and as if luck would have it, shoved into each outer pocket of the newly acquired jacket was an extra sea boot sock. He discovered them accidentally, much to his delight, whilst he was walking. He kicked off Jack's rubber boot, stood on the sacking and pulled on the additional layer of old wool. Immediately the big industrial boot felt better. He really felt as if his foot was filling it. A feeling he liked ! He repeated the process and set to with the wheelbarrow.

By now it was sleeting.

Everywhere was at least ankle deep in thickening sludge. Some places up to knee deep. In no time, Lee's big steel toe caps looked about size 12s or more. He loved them ! He worked methodically, filling barrows with wet mud from the large heap, shoving them as hard as he could through the quagmire and into the barn , where it was dumped. Backwards and forwards, dry in his newly found waterproofs, but sweating inside them. He found some planks to lay down like duckboards, when his access became impossible to wheel through. His boots were caked up to the seaboot socks, he was getting tired and needed a break.

He kept going for another 5 barrowloads, then went inside and hauled the big barn doors shut.

He had dumped quite a spreading mound, like a massive cow pat right next to the pit. Not too far to shovel onto the sieve.

He sat down on the sacking to get his breath back and have another can. He kicked his boots into the sludgey gloop, left and right, forwards and back, scraping his legs together , scraping the mud over the tops of his shins and knees. He couldn't help but scoop up a handful and plonk in onto his crutch. Needless to say, he was rock hard again.

The more he tried using a spade or trowel to spread the wet mud across the sieve, he realised it would take years to refill the pit. There were relatively few stones as it happened, so he decidedly to sift the soil with his hands and remove anything larger that a conker, if he could, He found some long rubber gauntlets in the sacking and hauled them on, reaching above his elbows. The sight and feel of the thick rubber made his cock stand to attention again, prompting a quick rub !

His heavy boots, waterproof trousers and gloves were completely filthy in no time, as he knelt in the mud looking as if he were panning for gold. He scraped his hands from side to side and forwards and back , just like earlier, removing anything hard and throwing it towards the barn gates. They would need stones outside anyway, unless the intention was to make the gateway totally impassable.

One the pile was as clear as it could be, Lee stood up and hastily shovelled the mud back into the hole.

This procedure was repeated for about 5 hours. The sleet came and went. His barrow got heavier with wet sludge and he just got dirtier and dirtier as he slaved away. Shovelling, kneeling, sifting, dumping. Load after load, until he was shattered. At least a very noticeable heap of mud was forming in the pit, much to the lad's delight.

At least Dermot couldn't say he was slacking !

It was about 4 pm when he went outside, clutching what was left of his bag of food, checked all the tools were within and hauled the great barn doors shut. It was getting dark and the sky was threatening. He gouged his way back along the track and got to the farm as the heavens opened. He darted into the boot shed and slammed the door on the elements.

Inside, the now very familiar sights and smells greeted him. Rack after rack of boots of all kinds, all sizes and in a range of conditions. A split old knackered Bullseye here, a pair of pristine Aigles there. Something for everybody. He had a real urge to try them all on ! Be in them. Live in them. Bury himself under them. Be them...

Ben's massive extra high Armasols caught his eye immediately. He picked one up cautiously, looking at the gold label, the size stamp, the sole, the huge orange toe caps. The grubby canvas smelt slightly of sweat and hard work. He breathed in the scent of the enormous boot. Not that long ago, he wouldn't have dreamed of doing anything so perverse.....now he had become a booted mudboy who needed to cum a dozen times a day ! This job had opened his eyes to a new world. He just hoped the job went on for years.

He carelessly threw off the waterproof suit, left his shirt and socks on and plunged his feet into the Armasols. He could almost take two steps before the boots moved !

He wandered to the back corner where a heap of old gear lay. An army coat, some camo trousers, some battered waders, rubber gloves, a tarpaulin, bin liners. All pretty much the same shade of mud. Precum started to drip from his solid cock, which was standing at about 60 degrees, throbbing. He laid down on the heap, burrowing and writhing about, getting covered in dirt and dusty mud. In his mind he was now a filthy pig boy who never wanted to be clean again.

He crawled under the tarpaulin, hauled the waders and gloves on top of him and rolled over a couple of times. He thrust his right arm into one of the unrecognisable waders and rubbed his cock hard with it. He shoved it between his dirty thighs and started to ride it, getting faster and faster with his movements. Ben's wellies were almost falling off his feet and he thrashed about, until the inevitable happened.

Gazing around him. He knew he was in paradise ! His cock erupted all over the filthy wader and his stomach. Gush after gush, he was seeding the dirty boot. He smeared it across his chest and tummy until he couldn't move at all. He was physically shattered.

An hour later, Lee was happy that the boot room looked virtually the same as it had done before. The only exceptions being the two pairs of filthy wet overalls which he had draped from the top shelf, anchored by two big boots each. He doubted they'd be dry by the morning, but he felt Jonny would understand.

He opened the door, flicked off the light and dashed to the almost adjoining door. The sleet has thickened. It was a vile evening.

He kicked Ben's Armasols off on the mat, pulled off his socks and the padded shirt and padded upstairs naked straight into the shower room. He daren't touch anything else. He caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. He looked as if he had been mudlarking on the Thames.

In a way, he had.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, he woke up. He barely remembered eating the pizza. He had slept like the dead.


Dawn on his final day alone on the farm.

Mercifully it wasn't raining. A strong wind was blowing, chilling him as he stepped outside, but he knew he had to get the two pairs of sodden overalls on the line, possibly even some other boots into an airy , safe space.

He had tidied up upstairs, packed his few bits into the Aldi bag which he left at the bottom of the stairs, locked the door and replaced the key beneath its plant pot.

In no time he was back at the bar, Jack's wellies were safely inside, he started slaving away in the huge Century wellies again, enjoying ploughing through the porridgey sludge. All that remained was the filling of the hole. Not an easy or quick job, but one he laboured away at until Dermot arrived with coffee. He felt that everything which had been worn or even trashed in the mud could be explained. It wasn't as if he were working in a department store, after all. The only thing he was extremely concerned about was the missing chest waders. He didn't even know where Jack lived, for fuck's sake.

The coffee was hot and strong, the sandwiches were a bit flaccid and bland, but Lee devoured everything Dermot produced from his bag. Crisps, apples, chocolate, the lot.

“Anyone would think you'd been in a war zone ! Or a famine !”

Looking around him, Lee cheekily responded that he had. He didn't want Dermot to think he was having the time of his life !!


The old crone opposite fixed the two good looking younger men with her good eye.

“My husband did that to me once on a train, after the war. Got his toe caught between the wooden slats !!!”

She waited for a response. Her partial deafness meant that all around must have heard.

Jonny felt his face reddening.

Under the train's table, Ben very slowly lowered his socked foot from his lover's crutch.

Ben had taken his shoes off about an hour ago and thought it would be nice to start playing with Jonny as he read his copy of The Guardian. It stopped him moaning about the incompetent government, acts of fascism of a princess they would never, ever meet. His moaning changed in tone. His thighs parted and his cock grew. It always did when Ben's big feet were near him.

“There was no upholstery in those days” she proudly crowed, we had to sit up properly, no slouching about like nowadays. That's how it happened! The train jolted, you see, just before Durham. I knew he was enjoying himself and I didn't mind it at all. Didn't have to have him on top of me grunting away. Anyway, suddenly he seemed to shout ! He never used to make a lot of noise, if you see what I mean...” she looked conspiratorial.

Jonny mouthed to Ben “I hope she fucks off soon !”

Ben turned and calmly asked “Do you enjoy watching people giving massages ?”

“Massages !? Is that what you call it nowadays ?” she screeched.

A family from South East Asia in the nearby seats turned in wonder, shielding their children's eyes. A French couple also turned and smiled, understanding fully the nuance. All bound for Edinburgh, no doubt. Ben and Jonny just couldn't wait to get back to Low Lane.

In London, no matter where you went, there were always millions of people. Walking in the opposite direction. Holding phones in front of their faces. Bellowing.

Hellish place ! Yes, they had enjoyed the cinema, theatre, certain shops and seeing distant friends who they vowed to “see again soon”. But...nothing beat the silence and distractions of the farm.

“Once the guard came, he managed to extricate Eric's toe. He was ever so embarrassed. So was Eric. Oh, is that the Cathedral ? My stop at last !”

Ben whispered “Thank Fuck”.

“I heard that, young man!” And with that, the obviously elderly woman was out of her seat with surprising agility and was wrestling with her suitcase before the train had come to a complete stop.

Suddenly all was quiet again, but the moments had passed and Ben decided to put his Timberlands back on. Jonny laughed and adjusted himself. The visitors turned away, the miles disappeared, Newcastle came and went and suddenly the beautiful glistening sea dominated the view to the east.

The train pulled slowly into the tiny rural, seaside station. It was cold on alighting, but not raining or snowing. The Land Rover stood where Jonny had parked it. He wasn't even sure he'd locked it.

“We're not in London anymore” Jonny murmured.

“Nor Kansas ! Now get driving Dorothy !! I want your cock in my mouth .”


A quad noisily and messily shuddered to a halt inches from Dermot's van.

“Hoi !! Watch out ! This isn't a fucking race track ! What are you doing ?” The van wasn't new, and definitely wasn't clean, but he didn't want it totalling !

The vehicle had splattered clay up the back of the van, which Dermot had turned round for a quick getaway later. At least he wouldn't have to thoroughly clean the windscreen.

“Can I help you ?” he asked the newcomer.

“Just bringing these back” the lad replied, hauling what looked to Dermot like a sack of mud off the back of the quad. The atmosphere was tetchy as Jack splashed his way over to Lee and thrust the wet waders into his arms. Lee was the colour of an over-ripe tomato.

“You got my wellies then ?” Jack asked loudly.

This was not a conversation Lee wanted “in public”. He had fancied a filthy swop over, with tons of cum.

“I'll go and get them...” Lee spluttered as he sidled off to the barn. Dermot was looking suspicious.

“I won't ask” Dermot announced, not quite comprehending.

“Don't” Lee abruptly responded. His anxiety and guilt showing. His boss was taken aback, “I'll tell you later” Lee added.

Jack strapped his Le Chameaus to the quad with a couple of bungee cords, planting his feet confidently in the mud as he did so. He had an old pair of non-descript wellies on, good enough for work. He sploshed back over to Lee and thrust a grubby piece of paper into his dirty hand.

“Here's my number, if you want to hook up again.” Now it was Jack's turn to seem a bit worried. He knew bloody well he wanted to, but did Lee ?

He turned to get back on the quad as Lee shouted back “ Of course I fucking do !!! Yesterday was amazing !” He didn't care Dermot was rubber necking, the look on his face a picture.

“I'll call you”. With that, Jack was reversing away from the van.


The farm was as silent and peaceful as the day they left it. It seemed like weeks ago.

“Looks like young Lee has been doing some washing” pointing to the line.

“More like some mudding” Jonny responded, smiling, “ You don't think we have a protege do you ?” They assumed he had had to find some more clothes because of the conditions. Jonny also wondered what else he might have discovered...

They jumped out of the Land Rover, Ben went to the stable block and found it spotlessly clean, just the supermarket bag at the bottom of the stairs; Jonny started carrying the suitcases and shopping into the house. The long corridor lined with old rubber boots was also exactly as they had left it. Very little post shoved through the door was the only extra thing.

“Let's have some coffee and get squared up, then we'll drive up the lane to see how they've got on” Jonny suggested. Ben responded affirmatively and grabbing his crutch gently kissed him firmly on the mouth.


“You expect me to believe that you just found those waders for work and they ended up in that state ??” Dermot wasn't exactly unkind, more bewildered. “My boots get filthy to the knees, but not much beyond. That's what wellies are for. There's even mud inside !” He dropped the heavy rubber he had been holding, trying to make the minimum contact.

Lee wanted to run away, but couldn't.

“Try them on then !! Let's see what they look like. I might eveb buy a pair for jobs like this. I must say, I can't fault you,” The mood was becoming gentler.

After all, Lee may have told a lie of two, but he hadn't killed any body or robbed a grannie of her pension ffs.

He lugged the heavy BTRs into the barn and kicked off his plastered steelies.

The lad sat down on an old bale , spread out the waders and deftly started pushing his muddy right sock inside. He was deliberately trying not to catch Dermot's eye.He could feel his cock responding, even though he didn't want it too. He was in a position now that boots + mud = erection. A bizarre Mathematical law. One he would never forget. Ever. If only the other algebraic stuff had been so obvious...

He thrust his left leg in and stumbled to his feet, which were now way down inside the heavy, black rubber again. He also knew what Jack had done in them....he tried to stop them tenting. They were absolutely filthy inside and out. Not quite what Lee had intended, but there was no going back now.

“Do you want a hand with those braces ?” Dermot was fascinated. “and you say they got like this whilst you were working ?”

“ Y...Yes” was all Lee could manage, still avoiding eye contact.

The silence seemed to go on for hours.

“I think you deserve a fucking bonus in that case ! You must have been slogging away for hours !!” Remind me tomorrow.

Lee almost wept.

Not only was encased in filthy, heavy rubber, with a cock he was trying to control, he was about to get extra pay for it !?! Fucking result !!!

“Give us a twirl then” Dermot said, camply. Lee wasn't sure what he meant, but turned round slowly to the best of his ability.

“I've never seen a pair of boots like that before. Where did you find them, you said ?”

“In the stable block, in a wardrobe.”

“And they were clean ?”

The severe embarrassment returned, despite the growing wind. “Er...”

“I thought so. Look, I'm as broad minded as anybody else, I know our bosses here are a couple, and I know they don't care about getting muddy. So fucking what ? BUT something tells me these waders are vintage and probably valuable. I don't get it my self, but there are people who get off on old boots, I've seen it online. They even collect them.” Lee wanted to die.

“I can't see how you're going to clean these up and smuggle them back indoors without being...”

At that moment the Land Rover appeared over the brow of the hill. The wind had carried the engine noise away. Ben and Jonny were there before anything could change. Or be hidden. Or for Lee to shrivel up.

Usually the sight of Ben getting out of the Landie, wearing his enormous Armasols would have made Lee's mouth water and his young cock strain. But not today. Ben ploughed through the slop confidently towards them, smiling. However, when Jonny rounded the bonnet his expression changed significantly.

Jonny was initially incredulous, then furious.

He broke into a lope, then almost a sprint through ten inches of mud – straight towards Lee.

“ WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING ?!” He tackled Lee with ease and lifted him off his feet, even though he was wearing several kilogrammes of mud and rubber. He had challenged far bigger guys than Lee on the rugby field. He held the lad in his arms and powered straight towards the mound of sodden mud, into which Lee became embedded. His heart was pounding/ He was terrified.

“What the f...” Dermot called. He had never had one of his staff treated like this before. “ You can't...”

Ben had never see Jonny look so angry. He couldn't really believe his eyes. Both guys were now seriously stuck into the mound. Lee's back, including his hair and Jonny's front were plastered.

“WELL ??! What the Hell do you think you're doing, stealing those waders ? We leave you here, trusting you and you go nicking things ? Fucking disgusting !”

Dermot had a feeling they might be special.

Ben was greatly amused at the scene.

Jonny was irate.

Lee wanted to die. Again.

“I'll tell you what you're going to do. And that is to clean them until they are SPOTLESS - do you hear me ?!” Lee seemed to bleat something.

“How the Hell you're going to do it, I don't know ! They were meant to be a surprise birthday present for Ben for next week. Now look at the state of them !!”

Jonny shoved his hands into the mud pile and eased himself vertical again. His jeans and shirt were in a heck of a state, his battered Bullseyes unrecognisable. He walked over to the external tap and cleaned his hands, still muttering oaths. He then stormed back to the car and reversed back along the lane.

“Looks like I'm walking home then ” Ben called.

He plunged over to Lee, who had started to cry. He placed his enormous wellies either side of the waders' feet and started to pull Lee out of the mess. The sticky extraction sounded amazing to Ben. He had missed getting dirty in London. He leant forwards again and whispered “I think they look fucking horny as hell ! I love what you've done to them !! Leave him to me !” With that Ben winked at the filthy lad, who was wiping tears from his streaked face, waved to Dermot and called “See you tomorrow !” over his shoulder as he sloshed through the gloopy mud of Low Lane.


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