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The farmer's calloused hands work his thick, veiny cock, the rubber of his boots creaking with each eager stroke. His breath hitches as he imagines the forbidden, the taboo. A passerby's distant figure only fuels his lust. He rubs his cockhead against his wet panties, the fabric sticking to his skin. With a guttural groan, he comes, his hot seed painting his clothes, the smell of sex and piss mingling in the air. He zips up, a satisfied smirk on his face, leaving the field a changed man, ready to face whatever comes next.