Out on the Farm by Rev Me

 My family's property was a decent size of about 5000 acres. Mostly scrub so me and my buddies often used to thrash around the scrub and the creeks in our beat up old bombs, farm cars, utes, etc after school or on weekends. Thrash em to death then just buy another 100 buck clanker to do it all over again with.

From my earliest memories I had always been turned on by a motor havin' the guts revved outa it. Watchin' the black smoke billow outa the pipe, the hot engine smell and the way the car rocked from being flogged gave me the biggest stiffies. My best mate Mick was a real animal, had no mechanical sympathy at all. Soon as he sensed his beast was about to die his size 12 foot killed it, by revvin' the motor till it sent a piston through the bonnet in often spectacular style. More stories on that line later this one is about me and our old Toyota Landcruiser 4WD ute. Being our old farm mule, it sorta didn't take long for it to get really run down. It sported the very powerful NOT 6 cylinder Toyota motor which until my foot held it to the floor, sounded like a wounded fart, then its pain became a real turn on. I remember havin a shit day at school and decided I needed some revvin' relief as soon as I got home. After getting' off the bus and running to the house, I changed into me flanny shirt and trackies and Blundstone workboots as it was the middle of our winter. As I took of my nikes I noticed my foot was soaked in sweat from playing Football that afternoon, the white socks were heavily stained in foot heaven smell, and as I slid my right size 10 foot into the boot I new this was gonna be fun.

I was pretty innovative, even as a kid, and when the exhaust got ripped off from thrashin' around the farm creek, I welded up and created a work of art. The exhaust was now routed through the bonnet and angled out to the right of the drivers door. Just perfect for watchin' the torture my foot was providing for those poor innocent pistons and valves. The ute was not even in sight and my cock throbbed and pulsed through my track pants, creating a big tent effect that turned me on even more.

I opened the door and there it was ready waiting for a good thrashin' and I was not gonna disappoint it. I pumped some fuel into its tank to make sure I had enough then fired it up. My mate had wired up a makeshift tacko in it and we had the redline set to around 5000 rpm. Nobody was home so I decided to see what happened when my foot held down flat after startin that cold engine. It fired up quick enough after the few pumps I gave it, but with the choke out all the way would not rev over 4000 rpm and the black smoke that was pissin' out from the exhaust made me think about liftin my right foot from where it was feelin' pretty comfortable now, flat to the floor.

I started revvin' the gas pedal, rockin' half way to flat as quick as my sweat stinkin' foot could go, watchin the clouds of smoke bellow outta the pipe. I pushed the choke in and settled into my routine flat to the floor for about 10 sec then big fast hard revs.

When I finally was able to hold 5000 rpm for about 20 seconds I knew it was warmed up. I backed it outta the shed jugglin' the clutch so the revs never dropped below the red zone. Put it into first and dumped the cluch, gravel spewed everywhere, then flat changed into second watchin' the smoke go from black to a nice grey colour.

I settled down to a sane pace through the paddock till I came to my favourite revvin' spot, down near the creek, and placed the stick in neutral. I decided to give the gas pedal a treat and took my boot off and placed the now soaked revvin' foot onto the polished surface. It felt cold under my hot foot and I had to curl my socked toes around the top of the pedal to make sure it did not slip off. I revved slowly at first rockin' it gently only to half throttle for about five minutes while massaging my pulsing hot cock, then without mercy, floored it with all my weight. The motor bellowed, then shrieked, the fan belt squealed in pain as I pumped and floored with all my foot strength while beatin' off to the awesome sound. The cabin was now tingling, alive with hot exhaust fumes, as I revved the guts outta that motor for over 15 minutes until the engine temperature light was glowing red hot and the last of the cum stains had dried on my t-shirt from the torture my foot had placed on that motor. The exhaust outlet was white, pure white, and looked as if somebody had poured white paint down it, only it and I knew of the cannin' it received that afternoon. And it was not the last time either it would have to endure this pleasurable torture.