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Chad had abandoned his two friends to do the dirty work of disposing of Ryan's body. Mike had found an old fence post that he was using to soften the ground so that he could scoop away the dirt with his hands until Scott returned with a shovel the he had “borrowed” from old man Jensen's farm about a half mile away.

Scott was clearly winded from the jog down to the farm. He pulled his shirt off and used it to wipe the sweat from his face. His bare chest was now beading with sweat as he panted from the run. Mike had only dug down about 6 inches in the time it took Scott to make the trip. But now that he had a shovel, he knew he could make much better timing in digging the hole.

The pair made haste to start digging. The two strong football players worked as a team, Mike breaking up the ground with the post as Scott scooped it out of the hole. The warm afternoon sun beat down upon their sweaty backs as the labored to get the hole at least 6 feet deep. Mike would occassionally look over to where Ryan's body lay against the base of the tree, almost as if he were merely resting.

It took some time, but they finally reached about five feet and the two were already exhausted from the work. They stopped and leaned their backs against the side of the hole. The cool dirt provided some relief from the heat of the afternoon. Sweat continued pouring down their brows as they leaned back, closing their eyes to the sun.

The two rested there, panting from the hard work. “I think that's deep enough,” Scott said, breathing heavily from the workout. Both of them were exhausted. They knew they really should go deeper, but the work was too tiring to keep up. Mike put one arm around his friend's shoulder. “I think you're right.”

“No, it's not.” The voice of old man Jensen startled the two young men and quickly brought them from their exhausted state. They were now wide awake and aware.

Old man Jensen stood on the side of the grave, looking down at the two with a wiry look in his eyes, leaning against his pitchfork. He had apparently been watching the two for at least a couple of minutes before they noticed him. “The hole needs to be at least seven feet to hide that body. If you leave it that shallow, then you gotta worry about some coyote digging it up.”

The two guys, stared up wide-eyed at the old farmer, who held out a canteen. Scott took it from the old man and took a good drink. The cool water was very refreshing for his tired body. He handed the canteen to Mike and looked back at Mr. Jensen. “Why would you help us?” He asked the old farmer.

“That boy there is one of them Wenderleys from the city. His uncle is a kingpin for the mob. We don't need that sort of trouble here.” The old man gave Scott a sly wink as Mike handed him back his canteen.

Old man Jensen watched as Scott and Mike started working on the hole. After about five more minutes of heavy digging, Scott had to stop again to catch his breathe. His day's workout, followed by the jog to Jensen's farm, now a few hours of digging had taken its toll on him physically.

“Gotta go deeper, there.” Old man Jensen was quite the motivator for the two, but Scott just couldnt push himself anymore.

“I can't, I'm too exhausted,” Scott let out between breaths. “The ground's getting harder the deeper we go.” Mike took the shovel from Scott and started shoveling more dirt out of the hole. Though he was tired, Mike was built like a work-horse. No one was sure if he had a lot of stamina, or was just too stubborn to quit.

“Tell, you what, boy, since you just came from a long jog to and from my place, you go home to your pa and I'll help Mike here finish the hole.”

Scott looked apprehensive. Why would old man Jensen help them? He wondered, but Mike gave him a reassuring nod and pat on the shoulder.

Scott climbed out of the hole and gave the old farmer a look of uncertainty. The thin old man had clearly lived a rugged farmer's life, as Scott could see each strand of muscle peeking out opened buttons of the man's thin flannel shirt.

The farmer gave Scott a nod and began using his pitchfork to soften the ground while Mike grabbed the shovel and started removing the soil. After about thirty minutes more of digging, they finally reached a depth that was acceptable to both of them, Mike boosted the old man out. Some dirt fell back in as the old man got out of the hole, so Mike began digging that dirt back out while the old farmer picked up Ryan's body and brought it over to the hole.

Mike looked up at Ryan's limp body in the farmer's arms. He leaned the shovel to the side and reached up. The old man handed the body down to him and Mike slowly caressed his classmate's smooth, slender body in his arms. He hugged the body close, feeling the soft skin against his own as he turned around in the hole. He laid Ryan's body down gently and carefully. A single tear ran quietly down his cheek as he rubbed Ryan's hair from his forehead one last time.

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you wanted to f** that boy,” the old farmer said with a hollow laugh.

Mike picked up the shovel and tossed it to the dirt pile and held his hand out to farmer Jensen to pull him out of the hole, but found himself instead, staring down the barrel of Jensen's pistol.

“Oh, shit, no.” Mike muttered as he stumbled backwards over Ryan's body.

“You know, killin's a sin, boy.” the farmer said with a grin.

Mike cowered down with one hand out and the other hand around his head. “Please, we didn't mean to... I.... I mean.... it wasn't me. Chad stabbed him... then Scott..”

“Stop your fussin, ya damned pansy.” The old man's voice was cold and harsh. “I ain't gonna shoot ya.” With that, he began pulling the trigger, which only resulted in a loud clicking sound. The initial sound of the clicking made Mike scrunch together in fear, but the sound of the empty gun quickly eased his heightened anxiety. He began to relax as he heard the old man laughing at him.

Mike, embarrassed, stood back up. “Ha, ha. Very funny, now help me out of this hole.” He said, with one hand out.

“Sure thing.” The old man holstered his pistol, grabbed Mike's hand and pulled him up out of the hole. Mike was impressed by the old man's strength. The old man seemed to have exerted very little effort in pulling him up.

Once back on solid ground, Mike tried letting go of Jensen's hand, but the old farmer held a tight grip. That's when Mike noticed him wielding a hunting knife in the other hand. With a fast jerk, the farmer yanked the linebacker straight towards him Mike felt the cold steel of the knife thrust into his deep navel. The sides of the blade were cold at first against the inside of his navel, but it warmed as blood began slowly seeping out around the blade. Mike let out a gasp as he felt the farmer's fist ram into the center of his gut.

Mike's eyes widened in shock of what had just happened. He tried to push the old farmer away, but the old man managed to pull out the blade and ram it right back in. A shocking pain racing throughout the lineman's body and his let out a shrill yell in pain. The old man let go of Mike's hand and wrapped his arm around Mike's broad shoulders, holding him in place, letting the boy feel the blade as he jabbed him several times in his gut.

“No... no.. please,” Mike begged, his muscular chest shaking from fear and pain. His brown eyes began flooding with tears as he pleaded.

“Now you're cryin' like a pansy again. You little pussy.” The farmer followed up his mocking by pulling out the blade and licking it while gazing into the young man's eyes. Mike's wide eyes stared back in shocking disbelief. “Now, I gotta go kill that Chad fella. We can't have youngsters from out of town murdered here. That's just invitin' trouble.”

The old man shoved Mike back, sheathed his knife then turned to walk away. Mike's thoughts turned immediately to Scott and Chad and what old man Jensen would do to them. Mike knew he was the only one who could stop the old man. He had spent his days on the football field defending those two and was not about to let them get killed. Mike's pain seemed to subside as his anger began swelling within him. He quietly picked up the shovel and made a charge at the old man, but the old man ducked down under the swing of the shovel and rammed his pitchfork all the way through Mike's gut.

“Haaaauuuuugghhhhh”

Mike stood there stunned with the shovel still over his head. His eyes wide and his mouth agape. He looked down and watched his husky torso heaving for breath with the the prongs of the pitchfork entirely embedded in his gut. He felt a throbbing orgasm soaking the inside of his shorts. With each shaky breath, he could feel the rusted prongs protruding all the way through him and out his back. The pain was unbearable, but the shock kept him from crying out.

Old man Jensen grabbed the shovel out of the boy's hands and tossed it down on the ground. Mike lowered his hands to his sides and turned his gaze back up into the old farmer's squinty eyes. With a powerful yank, the farmer ripped the pitchfork out of Mike's gut causing Mike to stumble a couple steps forward, and stand there, swaying. Feeling a sickening in his stomach, he lowered down to his knees. He could feel the blood and semen seeping together around his thighs.

With a heavy boot to his chest, the lineman stumbled backwards, falling with a hard thud into the grave where they had dropped Ryan's body. He was slightly dazed, but managed to curl onto his side, and wrap his arms around his beefy gut.

Mike laid in the hole next to Ryan's still warm body. He stared into Ryan's blank eyes, knowing he was on his way to joining him. He cradled his beefy arms around his gut, trying hard to bare with the excruciating pain that was rippling throughout his whole body. He looked up and saw old man Jensen standing over the hole with the pitchfork raised, poised for another strike.
When the old man rammed the prongs down at Mike's chest, the lineman quickly grabbed Ryan's body and held it over him, shielding himself from the assault. The pitchfork sank into the dead boy's back. This last fight merely amused the old farmer as he pressed down harder and harder, sinking the prongs deeper into Ryan's corpse until the tips stuck out of the other other side of dead boy's body. He knew the college boy couldn't hold out very long.

The prongs protruded about four inches out of the center of Ryan's chest. Ryan's still warm blood oozed and dripped over the lineman's body. Mike could see Ryan's glossy eyes staring down at him. The pressure from the pitchfork gave some animation to the handsome young man's body and it was almost as if it were Ryan himself threatening to impale Mike's chest with the protruding prongs.


With a final thrust downward, Ryan's body slipped out of the lineman's grasp. Ryan's handsome bare chest slammed squarely against Mike's and the prong tips sank into his beefy pecs. Mike's thick, hairy leg instinctively kicked up and wrapped around Ryan's calves as the prongs penetrated deeply into his lungs and heart as his manhood let out a second round of his final juices as his hips jumped up. He wrapped his strong arms around the young man's smooth, motionless body trying to seek some comfort from the fear and pain. Blood began flowing from Mike's mouth as he let out a a final heave and his brown eyes gazed blankly at the old farmer.

The old farmer buried the two bodies together, leaving only the tip of the pitchfork handle sticking out of the ground, marking the grave.

Another hot story. Thank you very much.