A SUMMER IN THE FARM PART II

AT THE CORRAL ROAD BAR

From Garrison´s farm, there was a while of country roads before reaching The Corral. Kyle and his crew drove through stretches of tall trees along the way, which at times opened up clear views of rolling hills, cattle-dotted fields, and a few nearby farms. When the boys spotted the neon sign of the road bar in the distance, the evening star had begun to twinkle as the shadows cast by the surrounding mounds slowly spread, refreshing the air.

As they pulled into The Corral's parking lot, Kyle slowed near the entrance for a quick peek inside and came to a stop. “The pool table's free, guys. Hop out and grab it while I park.”

Mark and Jeremy did so and entered the place. Country music played from a jukebox in the background, blending with the chatter of voices, the occasional burst of laughter, and the clinking of mugs and glass bottles being plopped down on tables—contributing to the faint sour smell of stale beer and damp wood that lingered in the air. Neon signs of popular liquor brands glowed on the brick walls in the cozy half-light of the rural establishment. The few patrons—locals and regulars of the roadhouse—immediately noticed the new faces. Mark’s steps were firm and confident, as if he owned the place, while Jeremy followed, glancing around, uneasy under the gazes that tracked their path to the billiard table.

Soon after, Kyle showed up at the entrance. He paused to greet the bar’s regulars and staff—faces he already knew. They welcomed him with smiles, handshakes, and the usual small talk that often turned into brief chats, sometimes spontaneous, and other times just polite, but always pleasant in their own way. Jeremy watched Kyle, quietly admiring how easily he made friends wherever he went, while Mark looked on with visible impatience.

“Hey, Kyle!” Mark yelled.  

Kyle glanced over at him but kept chatting with the bar regulars, whose nodding faces turned toward Mark and Jeremy as Kyle gestured toward them.

Kyle joined his friends and took a cue from Jeremy, then joked to Mark, “Bro, you’re like a jealous girlfriend—can’t even talk to other people for five minutes!” Then he turned to Jeremy with a meaningful wink, “And he says you’re the one who can’t live without me, Jam! Well, shit, man! Haha!”

Jeremy chuckled as Mark shook his head wearily. “C’mon, man, stop playing the fool and let’s play!” he said, gesturing toward the billiard table with the balls already racked.  

“Well,” Kyle answered, “I play better than you guys, so you both team up to play against—”  

Mark interrupted him, “You better than me, my ass, dude!”

“Ok, then!” Kyle answered casually, “Jam, we team up.”

The game went on as balls dropped into pockets with the clicks of cues striking and the clacks between them. All that accompanied by sips of drinks and laughter at the vagaries of luck—the failed easy shots and the pulled-off difficult ones.

The group of friends was on their last game when it was Jeremy’s turn. He had to deal with a tough angle to make the black ball go into its pocket. However, under Kyle’s guidance, Jeremy made a clean, swift shot that sent the ball into the pocket. Kyle burst out laughing. “Hahaha, didn’t expect that, did you, Mark?”

Mark rested both hands on the edge of the table, shaking his head with disbelief and amusement. Kyle was still giving Jeremy a congratulatory bro-slap when Mark raised his hand to join in. Then they agreed to have dinner and sat down at a table.

The waitress, a young girl, approached. Kyle seemed to know her well from before, as their flirty exchanges and her teasing compliments about his muscles showed—muscles which Kyle flashed in response with a confident smile. After handing over the menu, she soon came back with the drinks and set down a generous bowl of appetizers, sliding her hand over Kyle’s broad shoulders as she left.

Mark took one of the peanuts, "Man, judging by the size of this bowl, I can tell you’ve already fucked Alice, haven’t you? Haha."

Kyle chuckled while cracking one, “Perks of being a stallion, dude. She always brings me an extra dessert for free. You’ll see later, guys.” Then he placed the menu on the table in front of him.

“But she seems pretty pleased with you,” Mark said. “Not like the other girls who called you today and got so pissed off.”

Kyle smiled without looking up from the menu. “She hasn’t asked me yet about a serious relationship. When she realizes she can’t have a stallion in bed that behaves like a pony outside of it, she’ll start crying and whining—calling me insecure, narcissistic, full of myself, and all that bullshit,” he said, with the slightest hint of worry while flipping through the menu. “Alright, let’s talk about what really matters!” He slapped the menu down on the table with a thud to grab his friends’ attention. “Food!”

After agreeing on Kyle’s suggestions, Mark’s, and Jeremy’s preferences, they all placed their orders with the waitress. When the food arrived, Mark and Jeremy were impressed by Kyle’s four-person bundle tray loaded with some of the heartiest meals on the menu: pulled pork, mashed potatoes with gravy, fried chicken, and macaroni and cheese—each serving big enough to satisfy any person on its own.

Kyle was already picking food from here and there from his tray when Mark held his meal, “Man, that bowl of mashed potatoes is bigger than my burger, haha!”

Kyle moaned in agreement at full cheeks without looking away from his servings.

Jeremy took a slice of his pizza and said, watching Kyle’s forkfuls fly to his mouth, ”Wow, Kyle! I think I’d rather buy you a suit jacket than take you out to dinner! Hehe.”

Kyle flicked a hand to his chest and gave Jeremy a cartoony look of grief. “What? Is that because you don’t like me anymore as a country boy?"

Jeremy quickly said, shaking his head with worry, “No, no! I was just kidding—I meant the money! A suit jacket would cost less than your dinner!”

Kyle turned his head to Mark, sharing a laugh at Jeremy’s occasional tendency to take things literally and his sudden urge to make up for his unintended “contempt.” When Jeremy realized this, he just kept a small, guilt-free smile, glad at his friends’ amusement.

Kyle reached out toward Jeremy’s plate. “Here, give me some pizza, Jam. You gotta make it up to me for hurting me!”

“Yeah, sure!”  

Kyle took a slice, folded it lengthwise to fit it all in his wide mouth, leaving just the crust between his fingers. “You know what, Jam,” he said, chewing for a moment and managing his big bite to mumble through it, “I think you became one of my best friends when I found out we both dig anchovies and Roquefort on pizza! Haha.”

“Fuck! No one likes anchovies and Roquefort together, guys!” Mark grumped with a mix of amusement and disapproval, “That’s disgusting as hell! Haha.”

Kyle just shrugged and grabbed another slice. “That’s a perk, right, Jam?” he said, holding it up before taking a bite. “More for us! Haha.”  

“I agree! Haha,” Jeremy laughed.

Mark gave up with a lighthearted facepalm and took another mouthful of his burger. Kyle reached out to grab some fries from Jeremy’s plate and said, “Why aren’t you picking up fries, Jam?” As soon as he tasted them, Kyle furrowed his brows. “Ugh, they’re cold!”

“It’s just that—”  

“Alice!” Kyle called out loud enough to be heard across the room, waving at the waitress. She came over right away. Kyle handed her the plate. “My buddy’s fries are cold. Can you bring us some hot ones?”

The girl apologized, “Oh, I’m so sorry! Don’t worry, I’ll get right on it.”  

Kyle said, “No problem!” as she walked away briskly with the fries. Then Kyle turned to Jeremy and teased, “Why didn’t you say anything? Afraid of looking like a jerk, as usual?”

Jeremy shrugged, “I didn´t wanna cause any trouble for your friend.”

“Jam, she’s not my friend,” Kyle replied, waving his fork with detachment. “She’s just my booty call… like the others. And besides, you’re not asking for any special favors here! They owe you hot fries!”

“Yeah, Jam!” Mark said, pouring ketchup over his onion rings. “And stop being so considerate to people you don’t even know and who don’t give a shit about you! You’ll do better!” 

Kyle winked at Jeremy with a teasing smile, “And what about those onion rings, Mark?” He said, flicking a cheeky handful, “Are they nice and hot?”

“Hey, asshole! You took half of them away!” Mark complained as Kyle shoved them all into his mouth.

Kyle laughed at puffed cheeks and garbled, “Man, I care that you have them hot, and you insult me?” Then he turned to Jeremy, who was already chuckling. Kyle added with a comical gesture of indignation, ”Jam, the world’s full of ungrateful people!”

Soon after, the waitress brought them a fresh batch of fries, and Kyle took the chance to order some more onion rings to make up for Mark.

When Kyle’s friends finished their dinner, he loaded his fork with cheesy macaroni for one last big bite. With his last big mouthful rolling around in his jaw, he slumped back in his chair, sliding his hands down his shorts and grunted, “Time to make some extra room for dessert!” He sucked in hard to pop open his jeans with a groan of relief—the waistband button had been digging into his belly for a while.

Alice took their orders and brought a double piece of pecan pie for Kyle, a brownie for Mark, and a decaf for Jeremy.  They were halfway through dessert when Kyle’s eyes locked onto a girl heading toward their table with a clearly annoyed stride. Kyle muttered to his friends, amused, “Oh, shit… That’s a girl I’ve been hooking up with. I told her I was staying in this weekend.”

“Hey, Carol!” Kyle said with a smile as the girl reached their table. “Good to see you!” No sign of guilt in his voice.

Carol crossed her arms and answered, “Oh, yeah? I can´t say the same!”

Kyle just shrugged while chewing a big mouthful of pecan pie and mumbled with no embarrassment, “Well, do as I do, Lady … lie, and that´s it!”

At such a witty, clever reply, Mark and Jeremy couldn´t help but laugh.

Carol, shouting, ‘You fucking brat!’ slapped Kyle’s shoulder with all her spite, but the big man didn´t even flinch, as if that hit were imperceptible to him, like a mosquito bite.

As she walked away, Kyle took a long gulp from his soda glass. “What does she want here anyway?” he wondered, sucking a spoonful of pie into his mouth for more.

Mark elbowed Kyle and nodded toward the bar. “Man, looks like she and the waitress know each other.”

The boys noticed the girls throwing glances at their table as they exchanged a few words. Mark added, chewing his brownie, “Haha, man, they’re gonna find out you play both sides.”

At that moment, Jeremy, who usually stayed silent during Kyle and Mark’s man talks about women, said with rare conviction, “Kyle owes those girls no explanation; he never promised them eternal fidelity,” then took a sip from his cup.

Kyle and Mark exchanged a look and nodded to each other in agreement, their lower lips sticking out. “So dead right, Jam! And you do know me very well!” Kyle said, “But yet I´m still worried, guys … I´m gonna lose my extra dessert for free!”

A few minutes later, Kyle put his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and, holding up his last piece of pecan pie, said, “Jam, could you get me a glass of water so I can wash this down?” Then let out a pleading groan of satiety.

Jeremy just nodded with a quiet “hmm” and stood up. After he got back with the glass of water, Alice approached with an upset face, holding what seemed to be a ticket.

Kyle, looking at her with a crooked smile, said, “No extra dessert today, baby?”

Alice just ignored the question, clutching the ticket in her trembling fist, “Do you like Carol?”

Kyle´s face lit up with sparks of craziness in his blue eyes, “Yeah, she´s hot! Why do you ask, Lady? You up for a threesome?” His mouth widened into an expectant smile.

The waitress just threw the bill at Kyle, shouting, “I hate you!” before walking away. When Kyle checked the ticket, he said with a comical look of disbelief, “Fuck, she charged me the glass of water!”

The three friends laughed and joked about the whole thing. Then, Kyle sank his hand into his pocket to reach for his wallet; his thick triceps bulged up big as he dug into his jeans. Kyle nudged Jeremy with a grin. “Jam, you cool to pay the dinner at the bar for me? I’ve only got big bills, so I can’t just leave the cash on the table.” He shoved a few large notes into Jeremy’s hand. “I’m done with the drama tonight, haha—handle it for me, will ya?” Jeremy just chuckled and headed to the bar.

Dude,” Mark said, laughing. “There’s definitely something wrong with you! Chicks either adore you or hate you in a second!”

“Hehe. Yeah, man”, Kyle answered without losing sight of Jeremy, “And now that I´m buff, it´s even worse! Hehe,” He softly chuckled around sluggish pats on his stuffed belly, “Ughhh, I´m so stuffed—I ate a ton! Hehe”.

“Tomorrow I wanna-” Mark suddenly stopped talking when Kyle stretched his neck out; his suddenly widened eyes fixed on the bar´s direction with a restless look. Kyle shot to his feet with a rough scrape of his chair. The few bystanders whipped around. Their faces turning as they tracked Kyle´s brisk path through the tables toward the bar.

Kyle stood up to a gutted, burly biker, thinking he was harassing Jeremy, “What the hell is going on here?” Kyle asked, staring at the motorcyclist with a rough expression, somewhat gasping from his rush at full gut—like a bull after a furious charge.

Jeremy took his friend´s forearm. “Everything is fine, Kyle”, he answered, worried as he noticed Kyle´s angry demeanor. “I already paid the bill and got your change. Let’s go”.

But Kyle stood his ground. From the lower corner of his eye, he noticed the biker´s round gut compressed on his lap, sitting on his stool; Kyle instinctively let his stomach go loose without any restraint on its fullness, like an animal puffing up to impose his dominance with sheer size.

 The motorcyclist answered conciliatory but unafraid, “Hey, big guy, easy. We were just introducing ourselves! I take it you two are pals.”Then he extended his hand toward Kyle. “Mick.”

Kyle grabbed Mick´s hand with an audible catch, “Kyle!”, holding it firmly while shaking and keeping steady eye contact with the biker, who included Mark in his introduction when he came over. Then Mick turned to the bartender and raised two fingers. “One mug and a pitcher of beer!” he called out. “You guys want anything?” he asked Mark and Jeremy, who politely declined.

Mick and Kyle watched the bartender behind the dispenser, observing the beer gurgle as he filled the glasses one after another until the foam nearly brimmed at the top. The barman plopped the pitcher and mug down on the counter in front of the two big men; both vessels stood at the same distance from Mick and Kyle.

Kyle immediately grabbed the pitcher with a heavy hand and grunted. “Cheers!” Holding it up toward Mick.

“Cheers!” Mick answered while they knocked glasses, and they both raised their drinks for a long swig.

Jeremy thought he caught a flash of fierceness in Kyle’s blue eyes just before the jar hid his face. Kyle opened up his mouth grossly wide, as he threw his head back to make all the beer go down. The bottom of his pitcher angled higher and higher toward the ceiling as Kyle's loaded gulps turned rowdier and larger inside his throat, eager to chug every last drop.

Despite Kyle´s bigger drink, the two tanks plopped down their empty glasses on the bar with two simultaneous noisy clunks. Kyle was wiping the foam away from his lips when his hand shot to his belly with a thud. All bystanders' eyes were on him as he frowned in discomfort; before he could even feel it in the rush of drinking, his four-person dinner in his belly began soaking up that torrent of beer—All that hearty food blowing up and stretching his already maxed-out stomach with painful tightness as it grumbled in protest.

“What´s the matter?” Mick asked, watching Kyle struggle. “Was that more beer than you can handle, big boy?”

Kyle´s pained frowns now blurred into an angry scowl at Mick while he swallowed down the grumbles of discomfort rumbling in his throat. To Kyle, Mick’s question sounded like a taunt, barely masked by concern.

A sudden thunderous burp broke into the establishment through Kyle´s wide-open mouth as he grotesquely twisted his lips to squeeze its length til the last drop of air. Kyle gave a couple of relaxed but confident smacks on his belly, “Just some wind trying to get out. Nice pitcher to wash down my four-person bundle.” He let his moans of relief roll out like groans of pleasure, eyes on Mick.

“Well, that explains a lot!” Mick said.

Kyle threw a squinted gaze at the biker, his mouth rudely half-opened, like he was too blunted by his fullness to ask directly: ‘What´s your point?’

Mick kept his casual manners and explained nonchalantly, “It´s not that you enjoy brightening everyone´s view with your happy trail”. The biker said, nodding toward Kyle´s short jeans, “It´s just that button got too tight after your big-man dinner, huh?” Then he playfully stirred Kyle´s stubbly golden line with his chubby finger.

At the direct touch of Mick’s index finger on the lower skin of his belly, Kyle remembered his unfastened jeans—left open in his rush to protect his little friend. Mick, Mark, Jeremy, the patrons, and even the staff first glanced at Kyle’s exposed underbelly, then all turned their attention to his face, watching closely for his reaction.

Kyle just let his eyes lazily drop. His chin sinking between his pushed-up pecs, unable to catch sight of his jeans under his engorged gut. Kyle looked back at Mick and grunted without much effort for articulation, “Too much big man and food for these jeans”, a couple of relaxed but loud thuds followed right under the protruding base of his stuffed belly, showing off its solid, thick mass and size, hovering further than his loose jean folds and straining his shirt buttons; the hem riding up, unable to cover his navel. Kyle´s entire happy trail—down to the last dirty golden hair between his wide-open zipper—in brash display for all to see, without Kyle´s slightest move for restraint.

“Sure!” the biker admitted with a knowing nod.

Kyle placed his hands on his friend's shoulders and said, “We were just heading out. Thanks for the pitcher—see you around.”

“Alright, man!” Mick said, “I´ll be around with my pals; hopefully we'll run into each other again over dinner; they´ll surely freak out at your eating, strongman”.

Kyle nodded. “Sounds good, dude”, he said, starting to walk off with his friends as they all said bye.

Outside, night had already fallen. As they walked to the car across the parking yard, Mark said, ‘Hey man, hand me the keys—you drank a lot”.

“I’m 300 pounds of muscle, dude,” Kyle said, the folds of his unfastened jeans flaring and clinking as the gravel crunched beneath his steps louder than his friends’, “you need more than a pitcher to get me drunk.”

Once at the car, Kyle took a moment to lean back on the door to catch up on air. Kyle heavily arched back to massage the very bottom of his gut below his peeking underwear; he was so stuffed that just the elastic waistband of his briefs discomforted him—grunting toward his friends as his chunky fingers traced back and forth under the tight grip of his briefs. 

Kyle then unfastened his pale sleeveless shirt, button by button, with just a little effort; the thick, blown-up swell of his belly was already doing half the job, tugging them open for him. 

Mark exclaimed, “You’re a beast, man! Look at that shit!” He smacked Kyle’s huge, engorged gut with a full-handed slap—the sound thick and heavy like a bass drum. “You were so full after dinner, and you still went for that pitcher! But why’d you jump up from the table like a bat out of hell after that bicker?”

“That biker was making fun of Jam,” Kyle said firmly as he opened the car door. He got behind the wheel and shut it with a thud. Then, he rested his head back against the seat to take a few deep breaths.

Mark sat next to Kyle and said as he buckled up, “What are you talking about, man? He was  nice to us!”

“Yeah, he was quite nice,” Kyle grumbled ironically and said, “As soon as someone his size like me showed up!” Then he released the handbrake with more force than necessary.

“Man!” Mark insisted. “What the hell makes you think that guy was making fun of Jam?”

Kyle started the engine and pulled onto the road. “I could tell by the way he looked at Jam when he was talking to him.”

Mark turned to Jeremy in the back seat, “Jam, what did that guy say to you?”  

Jeremy shrugged, hesitant to contradict Kyle, “He just said, ‘Hey, friend, you’re new around here, right?’ and then introduced himself.”

Mark said to Kyle, “You see? You’re too protective of him, and that’s making you see things that aren’t there! Stop treating Jam like he’s a kid!”

Kyle scowled and said with seriousness bordering on anger, “Mark, you weren´t watching, for one thing, and for another, you, Jam, don’t always catch these things! Just like when those assholes, Zack and Preston, were totally making fun of you right to your face when you explained the meaning of ‘Ameno’ lyrics. I had to step in and stop them from dropping hints about you being a weirdo. Don’t you remember? Besides, Mark, I don’t treat Jam like he’s a kid; you know I see him as my little brother. You’re protective of your brother Jeff, too, aren’t you, Mark?”

“Of course I am!” Mark answered. “But Jeff is  twelve, not around twenty like Jam!”

“So what!? That doesn´t matter!” Kyle replied, “Jam didn´t hit the streets that much!”

Mark leaned back in his seat and nodded, “Whatever, man!

During most of the drive back to Garrison’s farm, Kyle and Mark held one of their typical guy conversations about girls—mainly about Alice and Carol—while Jeremy remained quiet in the back seat.

With his gaze lost in the dark landscape passing by outside the window and the constant hum of the road in the background, Jeremy felt a mix of vague unease from Kyle’s recent scolding and a faint warmth from his friend’s protective instinct.

To be continued.