Ben’s name was actually Bernie, but when I first met him I could not make out his accent to I called him Ben. Because this was deemed to be cute and funny it just stuck really. Many years my senior, Ben would often invite me to visit his farm and it was not long before he was giving me a grander tour and showing both his barns and the quiet woods at the base of the fields. This is by far where the best memories come from. From when we first met there was an assumed tension between us and after showing me round once, he brought me back to the barn later in the evening and told me that this is where he got up to his fun. When I asked what he meant he simply peeled his clothes off and sat on a hay bale stroking his soft cock. There was a long conversation then about wanking and I remembering feeling a mixture or fear and shame, no one had ever been so open about sex things before so it felt very confusing. But he put me at ease and so it was inevitable that shortly after the bizarre conversation began, he was talking me though taking off my jeans and sitting with him. It was both sordid and sexy when he said that what makes sessions like this better is when there is more interaction between friends. He took me in hand to show what he meant and his large hand lifted my tee shirt to take hold of me small hard cock. I was very familiar with the feelings of a wank, but I never imagined it could feel as it did right then, another hand doing the work, teasing my orgasm closer and closer. My excitement was evident and Ben talked softly to me saying that it was okay for me to come. I breathed hard and my back arched me backwards as he pumped my seed from me, mostly being caught in my tee shirt before I heard the familiar sticky sound of his hand on my shaft as he slowed his pace on me. He lay back and then lifted his bum slightly off the bale as he wanked. In no way did he put any pressure on me, and I certainly did not feel any pressure, but I knew that I wanted to return the favour. I wrapped my hand around him and I was amazed at how big he felt in my grip. He was hard a rock, it felt so hot and was smooth, contradicting the rest of his skin on his body, older and weathered it seemed. I stroked his cock for some time and I was starting to worry that I was doing it wrong – I had come in what felt like a matter of strokes, but Ben relaxed me more, talking softly still and offering me encouraging comments and groans. When his orgasm finally arrived I was taken by surprise, only when the first line of come launched from his swollen tip did I realise that he was all tense, his face red and holding his breath. After the first shot he let out his loud, guttural cry and I watched in amazement as hot thread after hot thread shot up and around his body until his come subsided to hot runs that oozed out and ran down my hand. I kept my hand on him, feeling a pulse in his thick member as it softened. I was really not sure what to do or say next so I was very relieved as he sat back up and started a gentle laugh. I flinched as he grabbed hold of me, but he was laughing and I soon laughed too. His hand reached for my cock and he liked that I was hard again. I had not noticed, but I smiled as he told me how that was a good sign as to what fun I was having. He told me I could wank that one out myself later while I thought about what we might get up to next time. We walked back to the farmhouse and as he bid me good night he said that I really enjoyed it in the barn then maybe he would take me to the woods in a few days. Back in my bed that night I wanked hard and I was amazed at how much I came, considering that only an hour before I had already spunked. I left my hand and nob sticky as I drifted off to sleep already looking forward to going to the barn again.