Low Lane Farm 7.

Something for the weekend. lads ?

Sorry for the delay...............

Low Lane Farm, Chapter 7.

  “Lee……..”

  “LEE  !!”

  “The van’s outside – GET UP WILL YOU ???!!!” His Mother bellowed up the stairs like a fish wife.

  Lee was up – but not looking forward to his first day at work.

  He had stayed on to do “A” levels as his Mother had insisted, but the combination of yet more school work and the lack of focus of where, exactly, he would end up had made him drop out after his 18th birthday.

  And here he sat, on the end of his bed wearing Adidas trackie bottoms, ironed, a pale blue tee shirt, ironed, clean boxers – also ironed and white sports socks, about to be plunged into some rigger boots his mother had found in the charity shop.

  The boots were size 10s – one size too big, “but you’re still growing !!!” echoed in his ears.  Creamy  browny  and with quite a bit of wear on the soles. He’d flipped them over earlier – and didn’t fancy another man’s boots. Needs must… he supposed. His Dad had buggered off years ago, and his Mum had done all she could – but he knew he could list a million things he’d wanted – which his mates had – which he couldn’t afford. They had enough food and warmth, but he was pissed off about an I-pod or a new mobile phone….

  He plunged his fresh smelling feet into the old boots and tried to focus his brain to a positive direction.

  If he took this job with Dermot – and stuck it out, them just maybe he could have the things he wanted, pay his Mum some rent and stuff…..and put a bit by.

  Girlfriends had never really been an issue. He had his mates – even though most of them were still toiling with their “A” levels….he liked a drink, a laugh, maybe a bit of danger…nothing too illegal…a bit of stealing cars – joy-ridin around town – then abandoning them before the pigs arrived. Maybe speeding up the motorway the wrong way ?? So what ??

  Nothing   really   serious – nobody had got hurt or…killed.

  He’d get pissed every Saturday – who didn’t ?!

  His Mum was out anyway – so what did it matter ?? She knew her vodka went down, but she also knew where her “little boy” was – didn’t she ??

  “LEE – GET DAHN ERE NAH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

His Mother’s voice screeched like a Banshee.

  “I’m ever so sorry, Mr. Dernmot – ‘e’s ushly such a punktuel boy - - LEE  !! – AH there you are !!!!!!! Bleedin’ ‘ell, ‘ow long does it take , eh ???” She ruffled his blonde, short hair whilst thrusting a pack of sandwiches into his right hand.

  “See ya later, Ma”  and with that the door closed and Dermot and his new apprentice labourer walked towards the not-so-new Transit van.

  “Hi, Lee – good to see you again,” Dermot walked to the driver’s door.

  “Yeah – um – right” was all the lad could retort.

  He climbed up into the van, and looked into the back before clicking his seat-belt into position. The jumble of pipes, hoses, yellow waterproofs, old boots and hard hats made his brain click – though he didn’t quite know why.

   There were tools strapped to the sides of the van, tarpaulins dumped on the floor, nails and cable ties everywhere – and yet his eyes returned to some filthy Wellies. He hadn’t worn any since he was a kid. Would his riggers be enough in the real world, he wondered?

  The movement of the van, from its stationary position, shook him back to reality. The image of the battered wellies was on his mind for some reason – but for now he had to concentrate. His first day at work; but why the Hell couldn’t he be back in bed ? His Mum bringing him some tea ? What’s all this about ??

  Dermot made small talk as the radio blathered on in the background. Girls Aloud became Sam Sparro became Nickelback; Lee heard words like “project”, “unusual” and “muddy” but didn’t really concentrate. Besides, he thought “Black and gold” was a top tune.

  They veered into the entrance of Low Lane Farm, and suddenly Lee realized he was off the beaten track. The muddy lane made the van shudder and slide from time to time, making Lee reach for the grab-bars. The further down they went, the deeper the mud seemed to become until they ended up in a yard in front of a smart Georgian farm house; some hard standing was evident, but the area to the right struck Lee as hazardous !

  The front door opened and a man appeared, followed by another.  They seemed close – at least they stood thus. Lee was quite mesmerized. Dermot had had them sussed from day one – and didn’t give a toss; money was money was money. Black – white – pink. C’est tout les memes choses.

  Lee was waiting for the wife to appear – but when she didn’t, and he knew they must get out of the van, he snapped himself back to reality.

  “Good to see you again,” Dermot thrust his hand forward and shook Jonny’s firmly. Ben’s followed. “This is my new assistant, Lee……..” He turned to the van, where the lad was still sprawling, his riggers up on the dashboard, in a relaxed state. Wishing the bacon butties would appear, Lee gave a kind of  wave which ended up appearing fey.

  Ben and Jonny’s eyes met, but nothing was said. They directed the van on its way, Dermot remembered the route.

  Lee watched as the others went back into the house, and then had to lunge for a grab bar in the van as the going got rough.

  “It’s a bit bloody muddy “ he muttered.

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet” was all Dermot could chant in reply.

  It took about 10 minutes for the van to slowly lurch through the deepening mud , trying to keep approximately in the tram tracks made by tractors or quads, until Dermot skidded to the left uncontrollably . Lee swore again, looking ashen. His feet were planted on the floor now, thinking he might have to jump for it. Not that he fancied jumping anywhere – it was such a fucking mess out there.

  “You sure this is safe ?” he muttered again.

  Dermot looked at him, but didn’t speak.

  Wrestling with the steering wheel, he managed to get the vehicle out of its slight rut – the wheels spun spraying mud violently up the formerly white van, Lee’s window was all-but blacked out, and tons more thudded against the underside in wet clods.

  “You can add cleaning the van to your list too !”

  Lee’s stomach went tight. He certainly knew he wasn’t liking this. And he knew his Mum would kill him if he went home dirty. He looked at the rigger boots and hoped they’d protect him a bit. He could always wipe them on grass later,

  Another 5 minutes on and Dermot stopped the van close to a very wet gateway.

  “Right, lad, that’s the project !” He indicated the  barn. “We’ve got about 2 months’ work here converting this. Come on !” With that, he flung his door open and stepped out into the cool morning air. Only then did Lee notice the big wellies on his feet. They looked like they had green toe caps, but they disappeared too quickly into the mud.

  Like a terrified animal, Lee couldn’t move. Gone was the teenage swagger, the cockiness. This was Day One at work in a place which looked like a nightmare.

  “COME ON !!” Dermot repeated.

  Lee opened his door and slid out, the feet on his riggers vanished instantly into some quite thick, brown mud.. He tried to stop from putting all his weight down, he didn’t want his trackies mucked up if he could help it. But within a few seconds it was very apparent that he needed higher boots. The riggers would be swallowed whole, judging by Dermot’s boots which slopped confidently through the churned mess as if on their own. They were already splattered near to the tops.

  “Have you got any wellies I can borrow ?” he asked timidly.

  “In the back, “ Dermot called knowingly as he flung the side door open. It ran back on its runners to let daylight pour into the mass of work gear and tools. Everything a muddy shade of grey brown. The old boots Lee had spotted earlier were within reach, he hauled them from their dirty place and sat on the edge of the van. His arse was already dusty – the chance of going home clean was vanishing from his mind.

  With his England footie socks on and his white sports socks, his young feet were already toasty; but it was a cool morning. He didn’t like being cold – but he hated being wet even more. Gingerly he shrugged off his right rigger boot, the weight of the mud all around the foot making it slide easily, and watched it splat onto the wet ground where it sat at an odd angle. He picked up the old gumboot  and saw the word Scan or something on the side. He immediately thought of  food again, which took his mind off shoving his foot inside.  He hoped it would fit, it looked big enough.

  Dermot was unloading some spades and a pick-axe when he heard something like a muffled scream. “Are you O.K. Lee ?” he called .

  “Yeah, yeah…” Lee replied in a high voice as he tried to get his breathing under control. Something was in the boot preventing him getting his toes to the bottom. He wasn’t prepared for the shock. He gingerly reached inside the cement coated, filthy old boot, it was almost as dirty inside as out, and carefully pulled at the lump deep within the toe of the boot.

  A manky old sea boot sock was revealed.  It would have been cream once, but had had years of wear .

  “Ah – you’ll need them !” Dermot cheerily shouted, wallowing to the barn door with the tools. “Those boots’ll be a bit big !!”

  Lee flipped the boot upside down and scratched away some dried mud to reveal a 44/10 sign. “They run a bit big those, I’ve had them since new,” Dermot called. “Must be ten years ago now !” With that he had disappeared inside the great barn doors.

  Lee was hating this even more. He thought Dermot was a decent bloke, but he wasn’t sure about wearing his boots and socks. Didn’t seem decent – or clean ! They were fucking filthy – and they stank !

  Dermot reappeared.

  “T his isn’t a fucking cat-walk, Lee !! Get them on and give me a hand !! I’ve got to get back for the digger – and it’ll take me an hour or more with the trailer through this mud!”

  Lee carefully shook out the skanky sock and pointed his slim foot downwards… he shoved his toes inside and bunched the sock up as far as it would go so that his foot was fully inside, then worked it jerkily past his heel ; with his trackies gathered around the ankle and held in place, he hauled the sock up just past his knees. His foot looked big – something he was impressed with ! He then reached for the oversized boot again and bravely slammed his foot deep inside. With three pairs of socks and these boots, he knew he’d be protected from everything. He repeated the process with his left foot and stood up. The newly found Wellingtons sank instantly over the ankles and started to pick up a coating of thick mud with every step. 

  He had to convince himself that he could do this – and thinking himself a size 10 lad now did help ! He braced himself to start his new job – his new life.

  …..Besides, the money would be handy too !!

  It wasn’t long before Dermot drove wetly off.

  Lee had got his instructions – quite simply to move all the tools into the barn and start shifting the largest stones out. He had become mesmerized by the other man’s big, old ,rubber boots on his feet though. He was flexing his toes deep within the battered boots and carefully lifting them in and out of some sticky clay listening to the sucking squelch of release. He hadn’t played in the mud for years – but something in him was stirring, more precisely something in his pants.

  He looked over both shoulders guiltily, but nobody was around. He thought no one would ever come down there, fucking filthy place !

  He scraped the boots through sloshing mud pools back to the gateway, he really wanted to get up to the tops ! He lifted the right boot with an effort, a great dome of thick mud right across his foot; the toes were indistinguishable and wide, the boot weighed a ton.

He slapped it heavily back into a tractor rut and lost his footing – immediately the filthy boot sank straight to its rim in sludge.

  In no time at all he yanked out his stiff cock and had exploded all over the sodden ooze which h surrounded him. He didn’t know why he was so turned on – but it was his longest, wildest orgasm in a long time. And he wanted more………..