Westcott Family Farm

By: Nicholas Hall
(© 2021 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

nhall@tickiestories.us

Chapter 19

“Of all the arts beneath the heavens
that man has found or God has given
none draws the soul so sweet away
as music’s melting, mystic law;
slight emblem of the bless above
it soothes the spirit all to love.”

(Hogg) 

I’m certain, from the class I took in Human Psychology, knowing there are various stages of grief, I must’ve experienced one, all, or none of them. Things were happening way too fast in my life for me to really contemplate them! I was sad, missing my sister, but comforted by the presence of her sons, now Andy and mine to raise and love. They were a comfort to me and I hoped we were a comfort to them.

In the first two weeks after her funeral, Mattie started his therapy sessions, Andy switched to a day shift permanently (for which I was thankful), I purchased a studio, upright piano so Mattie could begin his piano lessons with Mrs. Boyer, and we took final possession of a rather nice one hundred acre farm, with house and outbuildings, about two miles down the road from us. It wasn’t totally unexpected, yet it was!

Dad was approached two years before he died, by John and Sarah Higgins, our quite elderly neighbors, concerning the possibility of purchasing their farm someday- not right away because they needed a place to live and they loved the place.

The farm, one hundred and twenty acres of combined crop land, some pasture, some hay ground, and a nice, approximately twenty acres of hard wood (maple) forest. The home was as two story, four bedroom, albeit rather small except for the master bedroom (three up and one down, two bathroom, modern appliances including LP gas furnace, and finished basement with a pool table. John loved to play pool!

The outbuildings included a two-car garage, small, but adequate barn with a six-stanchion milk parlor, an attached milk house, hog house and yard, chicken house and yard, a medium garden space, and a small orchard area with two or three apple trees of unknown variety.

We’d been plowing their driveway during the winter for several years at the time and kept them well supplied with fresh vegetables and some beef and pork. They were good neighbors and great people! They never hesitated to help Mom and Dad in their younger years and we figured turn-about was fair play. They’d raised three girls and, according to John and Sarah, the girls had no desire to return to the farm. In fact, all three were married with grandchildren of their own and lived out of state.

Dad knew John’s retirement was small and he rented out his crop ground to us for additional income. So, when Dad was approached, he suggested the Higgins’ consider a land contract with the right to live in the house as long as they so desired. They agreed so the contract was drawn up and everybody was well satisfied. Since we now technically owned the property, we also took care of maintenance on it.

John passed away in the May before the boys cam to live with us. Sarah stayed alone, tidying up affairs and other such necessary things until she could move in with one of her daughters. To make a long story short, the family attorney contacted me (two weeks after Janet’s funeral) to see if I was in a financial position to pay off the land contract. Sarah’s family decided she’d need the money up front for her care. I had misgivings concerning their motives, but we’d been paying on the contract for eight years. Dad made a substantial down payment when the contract was executed so the remaining principal was not very much. The land, at time of purchase, wasn’t assessed or valued very high since it didn’t have lake access and the quality of the crop land was marginal.

Frankly, with everything going on, Sarah’s absence, the fate of the farm, and my contract completely slipped my mind! Mrs. Jensen paid the bills, Ted and Lee watched the place, our crops there, and made any needed repairs they could see needing to be done from the outside, so I hadn’t paid much attention, I fear.

So, I said “yes!” Now I had an empty house and farm land to decide how to use. We had potatoes planted there, but hadn’t pastured any of our beef there. I really had to put together a business plan and land use plan for the property for the next year.

As if all of this wasn’t enough, not a week later, Mrs. Jensen’s husband suffered a mild stroke and she informed me, as much as she hated to do so, she was going to retire and care for him.

What could I say? They were both in their seventies.

I must confess, I did have much to say, when it was just Andy and me alone (I thought). I needed a bookkeeper/accountant; one with experience, preferably one who understood a vegetable and fruit farming operation.

David overheard my grumbling, sensing the anxiety concerning finding a bookkeeper, about the second day after Mrs. Jensen’s announcement.

“How about Mrs. Alverez?” he suggested, while we were all seated at the dinner table, hopeful I think he’d then have the opportunity to chase after Carisa.

All eyes turned to me and six boys waited for an answer.

“Mrs. Jensen could help her,” Jamie volunteered.

“At least a couple of hours per day until Mrs. Alverez got the hang of things here,” David offered in support of his original suggestion.

Mattie looked at me expectantly and bobbed his head vigorously up and down indicating he’d be in favor of the idea.

I nodded thoughtfully to appease the eager group, but didn’t say yes or no to the idea. I had to think it through. In some ways hiring her, if she accepted, would solve two problems. The first would be my bookkeeper situation and the other the empty house down the road. I could offer her the house as part of her job benefits. Of course, I’d still offer her a decent wage, but it wouldn’t be as much as I’d been paying Mrs. Jensen. She’d been here forever and worked her way up.

Now to see if I could hire Mrs. Alverez and see if Mrs. Jensen would agree to mentor her for a while.

Mrs. Jensen was most amicable towards my proposal, providing Mrs. Alverez was all she claimed to be and agreeable to the arrangement. It’d be a way for Mrs. Jensen to retire, yet maintain her loyalty to Westcott Farm, by easing out, so to speak. In the meantime, one of her daughters would help out by caring for her husband once he was out of the hospital and rehab center located in a residency facility. According to Mrs. Jensen, his doctors thought it’d be another three weeks, in both hospital and rehab, before they’d consider allowing him to go home. She would work mornings for us familiarizing Belle Alverez with our bookkeeping and records keeping. If Mrs. Alverez didn’t take the position, Mrs. Jensen would only work mornings until we found someone, with the caveat I’d better find one within a month or so.

I called Belle, informed her I was seeking a bookkeeper/office manager and why. I noted to her I recalled our previous conversation concerning her degree work and I’d be interested in interviewing her, if she was interested.

She was, so we set up the interview for two days hence at the office.

Belle arrived at the appointed time, seated herself, at my invitation, in my office, and handed over a manila folder I discovered, upon opening, copies of her two-year degree diploma, transcript of classes, and references.

“As you can see,” she explained, “my accounting/bookkeeping degree was obtained before I married, so it’s a bit dated. Once I married, we moved to Texas and began following the crops much as my parents did while I grew up. They finally settled as ‘permanent migrants’ in Wisconsin where my degree was obtained. I have bookkeeping and accounting experience in many places with different accounting firms and offices, depending where we were during our slow time.”

Most of her experience was during the tax season. It was her husband’s slow time so she’d work then to supplement their income. I noted her most recent experience was the immediate past tax season with the accounting firm we used on the farm. I was about to ask her about it, when she offered,

“We were in Texas about a year ago when a raid by ICE agents abducted my husband and without a hearing, deported him to Mexico. Granted, he was an undocumented but I thought even those without papers would be granted a hearing. Evidently, he was to remain in Mexico until his hearing was scheduled. He was granted no counsel in the United States. We were fortunate, I felt, my entire family was not nabbed, although my children and I are U.S. Citizens. I’m not certain that means anything in some parts of the country.”

After learning of her husband’s death, she contacted her cousin, Pastor Rodriquez, and at his invitation, headed north. He helped her find housing and a position as a housekeeper with one of the local motels, but when a temporary position at the accounting firm opened during the tax season opened, she took it. She could earn as much in four months there as she could in six or seven working as a housekeeper in the motel. The motel refused to take her back when the temp position ended.

“So,” she confessed, “it’s been a bit stressful since then. If it hadn’t been for the generosity of my cousin, unemployment benefits, and the SNAP program, I don’t know what we’d have done.”

Wanting to see her reaction, I asked, “You realize this is the same accounting firm, your last employment, I use?”

“Yes!”

“Yet, you made no mention of it.”

“No. It’s not my place to break the confidences of my employer and who they do business with.”

That more than satisfied me!

“If I may be so bold as to continue, now you and I are both aware of your affiliation with the firm, do you have any familiarity with how farm production revenues and expenditures are incurred and recorded for tax purposes and income statement and balance sheet presentations, specifically Westcott Family Farms?”

“Yes, in fact, I was the employee who prepared your tax returns this year for last.”

I explained the benefits for the position including family health insurance, vacation, sick days, bonus plan, and housing. It was more than agreeable to her.

Belle Alverez started the next day and as she became acquainted with the office, we busied ourselves getting the Higgins place ready for family occupancy. All the major appliances, furniture, including the pool table, remained in the home. Sarah’s family removed all personal items including dinnerware, utensils, bedding, towels, and other such items.

With what few household items Belle had in her rented home and a couple of visits to St. Vincent de Paul’s and the Salvation Army, we soon had the place ready, two weeks to the day she started work, for her and her family to move in.

Vinnie wanted to work and I decided I could put him to good use on the same crew as Robbie and Paul. They could teach him the ropes. They were about the same age, although I’d learn later, Vinnie was the youngest of the three. Carisa was delegated, by her mother, to babysit the younger boys, although David did find excuses to cruise there on the ATV. As far as Luis was concerned, anywhere Mattie was you’d find Luis.

Our boys had chores to do around the house and the farm, including caring for the pigs, the yard, and helping either Mrs. Boyer in the kitchen or Mrs. Williams on the days she did laundry and cleaned. David worked mornings in the office with Mrs. Jensen and Mrs. Alverez, Scott helped at the roadside stand, leaving Mattie, Eddie, and Jamie to help around the house and on the farm where ever they were needed. They became our “go-fors” so to speak.

Mattie had been at his piano lessons for about a month when the Alverez’s moved in. He spent up to two hours per day practicing. Mrs. Boyer increased his lessons to twice a week, explaining,

“He can already read the music; he just needs to learn the piano keys and what combinations produces the sounds he wants on it. It takes a lot of finger practice.”

Jamie, overhearing her comments, after she left, bent over, pulled down his shorts (sans underwear) spread his cheeks, exposing his pink, tight hole, smirking, using his best Mr. Sickles voice, “Young-un, give this here a little finger practice and I’ll jest hoot out the entire Star-Spangled Banner, in any ol’ key your sweet heart desires.”

******* 

Vinnie stayed close to Robbie and Paul on his first day on the job. There was little difference, other than fewer varieties of vegetables being raised, the livestock, and the smaller crop, with the U-pick market, designed for local markets, from what he’d witnessed or been involved in as a boy in a migrant family. In some states, he was allowed to work at age twelve and did. Granted those in the migrant camps spoke almost exclusively Spanish, but here, English was the primary language. Either way, he felt comfortable in both and could switch with ease.

The first day he worked, Robbie, Paul, and he spent hand hoeing weeds from row upon row of pumpkins. The plants were vining with young fruit on them so hand hoeing, rather than with a tractor and cultivator, was necessary. At lunch time, he sat with Robbie and Paul under the shade of a maple tree to eat lunch and enjoy the shade. He’d forgotten to bring a soda (actually, they didn’t have any in the house.). Soda was not necessarily important in a household with a very limited income. Robbie brought an extra so he shared it with Vinnie.

Vinnie watched his two companions closely. They were very comfortable with each other; entirely too comfortable, Vinnie thought, to be “just good friends.” The three of them lined up to take a piss after eating before they returned to work. Vinnie’s eyes drifted to Robbie’s and Paul’s open flies, got a good look at one very large and one average uncut cock.

His glance didn’t go unnoticed by Robbie and Paul, both just as curious as he was, although theirs extended to inspecting what the good-looking, slim Latino was packing in his pants. They noted, with a wink to each other, his slightly above average uncircumcised penis, met with their approval.

At the end of the day, Robbie, Paul, and Vinnie, albeit the work crew was much smaller than when strawberries were in season, were the last in the locker room. Robbie asked Vinnie if he was going to shower before leaving, but Vinnie told them he’d have to wait until he got home.

“Tomorrow,” Paul advised, “bring a towel and body wash, along with some clean clothes, and take your shower here with us. We’ll be working cattle tomorrow so why go home smelling like cow shit when you can be clean and delightful to everyone.”

Jamie was the only one who asked how Vinnie’s first day or work went.

“I guess pretty good,” Robbie answered. “He knows his way around a vegetable farm and the equipment, that’s for sure.”

“So,” Jamie continued, “how about his own equipment?”

“Why? You interested?”

“Well, he is pretty cute,” confessed Jamie, but commented no further as he walked away.

The next day, at shower time, Vinnie produced clean clothes and shower gel from a rather well-used gym bag. He watched as Robbie and Paul shed their clothes and slowly took his off as well, fixing his eyes on Robbie’s large, slowly enlarging cock. He could feel his cock begin to do the same. Rather than try to hide it, since it was apparent neither Robbie or Paul, who’s cock was now at full upright erection, seemed to care, he followed them into the shower room. There was some satisfaction, although his dick was not as large as Robbie’s, it was longer and fatter than Paul’s, although Paul’s was very nice and appealing.

“My god, Robbie,” he commented noting Robbie’s cock was now fully erect and curving up from his crotch, “how big does that thing get? It’s huge!”

“Wait until you see my Uncle Jake,” Robbie answered with a grin.

“All of the Westcott’s have huge cocks, even the youngest ones,” mused Paul, reaching over and giving Robbie’s turgid member a couple of strokes, “although I think Mattie someday will be labeled, Supercock!”

“You mean the one that’s Luis’ boyfriend?”

“Yep!”

Vinnie could feel his own erect member twitch and stiffen even more at the thought of a plethora of cocks in the Westcott Family as he stood staring at Robbie’s erection, large swollen head uncovered, the shaft curving upward from the root where a sparse bush of dark pubic hair grew. He looked at Paul, his average cock erect as well, as Paul soaped up Robbie’s and gave a few more strokes. They were staring at his erection as well. Last he measured, it was just a little over six inches, but on his slim body, it looked larger. A few dark pubic hairs grew near the base, not an abundance, just a few. He was certain as he grew older, his cock would grow more as well as pubic hair.

He really didn’t know what to expect, watching Robbie and Paul, what would happen at shower time, other than get cleaned up and put on clean clothes. Vinnie was more than just a little surprised to see Robbie, after both boys were clean, to drop to his knees and give Paul a masterful blow-job. At least that’s what he thought, having never seen one given or had one administered to him. He watched, slowly stroking himself as Paul bucked his hips and shot his load into Robbie’s mouth where it was swallowed and savored.

Before Vinnie could say, “Feed the monkey and watch him shit,” Robbie was upright, Paul was bent over in front of him, leaning up against the shower wall, and Robbie peeled his big banana, and seated it deeply up into Paul’s rectum, pumping hard and fast.

In no time, Robbie grunted, excitement and lust in his voice, “I’m cumming!”

“Quick, Vinnie,” Paul ordered, “reach between us, grab Robbie’s cock, and you’ll feel him shoot into me!”

Vinnie didn’t hesitate, slipping his hand in-between Paul’s smooth, firm buttocks and Robbie’s thrusting crotch, clasping his hand, best he could, around the hot, big cock pistioning back and forth in Paul’s sphincter.

Robbie groaned, “Yes!” thrusting forward, hindered only by Vinnie’s fingers around his instrument of pleasure and breeding from burying pubes deep, and began pulsing, swelling, and spewing his voluminous teen semen into his lover’s bowels.

“Amazing!” said an astounded Vinnie as Robbie’s cock pumped, feeling the sticky cock-snot oozing from Paul’s butthole and around his fingers. His observation and comments were interrupted when Jamie stepped into the shower door.

Robbie, cock still dripping as he extracted it after his coupling with Paul, looked up, saw Jamie bare-assed naked, work clothes in one hand, and his three-and a half inch boy cock pointing straight out in front.

“What’cha’ need, Jamie?” Robbie asked.

“Uncle Jake said I needed a shower; a good scrubbing to every crack and crevices from top to bottom, but I forgot my body wash.”

“What happened?”

Eddie showed up in the kitchen after chores without Jamie. They’d been at the hog yard filling feeders and waterers. Wondering where Jamie was, Jake soon found out his nephew was standing outside on the sidewalk. Inquiring why, suspecting some sort of mischievousness knowing Jamie as he did, was informed Jamie was outside because he “smells like pig shit.”

Wondering why Jamie smelled like pig shit, Eddie just grinned and responded, “Yep; fell ass over face into the hog yard into the hole they’d been wallowing in. The hole was full of pig shit and water.”

Jacob decided he better take a look or sniff and stepped outside. Even from a distance, he caught the smell wafting from Jamie.

“You need to scrub,” he informed Jamie and turned toward Eddie.

“Robbie is in the shower house and he’s the oldest,” Eddie pleaded, “so he should do it.”

Jamie was handed a clean towel, wash cloth, some clean shorts, and a plastic bag to put his dirty clothes in and sent to the shower house.

“So,” Robbie said, “get in and get cleaned, you stink!”

“I forgot my shower gel,” confessed Jamie, his eyes fixed on the hard, brown phallus Vinnie had poking out and up in front of him.

Robbie noting Vinnie’s pecker start to twitch as he stared at Jamie, made a command decision, deciding perhaps Vinnie would enjoy fondling his younger brother’s balls and peg, asked Vinnie if he’d mind doing the job.

“Not a bit!” Vinnie answered.

A giggle and an enthusiastic “Yes!” came from Jamie as he scampered to where Vinnie was standing under a showerhead. Jamie gave Vinnie’s cock a couple of strokes, commenting how nice it was before draping his washcloth over the thick root, and backing up so the stiff protuberance rested in his small ass crack.

“Do my hair first, please!” he instructed Vinnie. “You’ll have to use your shampoo and body wash since I forgot mine.”

“Take your time,” Robbie advised.

“Oh, we will,” smirked Jamie, wiggling his butt causing Vinnie eyes to roll up in concern he’d shoot his wad right then and there.

“Definitely a player,” Robbie said as they walked from the shower house.

“You got that right,” acknowledged Paul. “You know, I wouldn’t mind giving his sweet, brown piccolo a toot or two if you wanted to fuck him.”

“Have to think about that! Don’t want to rush it though!”

To be continued...

Posted: 05/14/2021