I clutched the shaft and ran my thumb over the piss slit. He grumbled and more fluid drooled from the gaping lips. Although I already knew it wasn’t urine, I brought my digit to my mouth for a taste of his juice. He grunted again at my ribald display. My hand took hold again and ran that cock from the head down to those silver-grey coated balls. His calloused paw was still on my stiffie and he was slowly whacking it as if it was his own. His hand was strong and sure, the fingers like sausages. His brawny forearms were thick and corded. Running my free hand up under his t-shirt I felt what once must have been a rugged chest. His meaty pectorals were coated with fuzz and his nipples were quite large and rigid. I took one between my fingers and squeezed, eliciting another deep groan from the Silverdad. “You’re in good shape for a guy your age,” I acknowledged. He proceeded to tell me he had worked his father’s farm from a young age and then took it over after his Pa was gone. Apparently, they had a huge spread with fields of wheat and corn which the family cultivated and sold at the market. When bailing straw and
