The story of Jack and the Beanstalk, in which even the title has phallic connotations, was an amalgam of English and German folktales.
In sexualizing it (or, possibly re-sexualizing it) the first question is will Jack be attracted to someone who said he'd grind his bones to make his bread. In answering no, the next possible partner is the peddler who gives Jack the magic beans. Our story makes him a hero, rather than charlatan, a most desirable hero. During a time when it was difficult to rise above one's station, he gives Jack the means to change his life, with only a giant standing between them
Maisie bumped him in the back with her snout and he slid an arm around her neck, patting her side. Her clanging bell and heavy hooves provided the cadence for their slow pace into the dalton. Jack waved at people he knew and looked up at the sky. The animal clouds from earlier had flattened and greyed, like Jack's mood.
Nearing the Jones farm, he noticed the old man completing a transaction with a peddler on foot. He was young for a traveling merchant and had the darkest skin Jack had ever seen. His smile as he shook hands with Old Man Jones was infectious and Jack's own frown reversed, the corners of his mouth twitching up.
The peddler stepped onto the road ahead of Jack. The tightly strapped pack bulged with goods and stretched from above the man's shoulder to the top of his arse.
It was around dinner time for the townspeople and the road was empty, save for Jack and the man who walked ahead of him. Jack clutched Maisie's bell rope, unable to take his eyes off the high, toned buttocks and the workings of the long leg muscles. His grip on the rope tightened until the cow mooed in protest.
"Mah turn," the peddler said, still strolling ahead. "Ah want to watch you walk for a while." Jack stumbled at the words and man turned, flashing the seductive smile in his dark face.
"I don't know what you mean," Jack said, his face warming and reddening like the setting sun.
With a laugh, the man shifted the weight on his back and headed toward the black-haired younger man. "Ah know when Ah'm bein' watched and, Boy, with your hot stare, you lak to burn a hole through mah ass."
His accent was sharp, with definitive R's and lazy I's different from anyone Jack had ever heard.
"You're not from here, are you?' he asked, taking a step back as the peddler, very handsome, Jack now saw, drew nearer.
"No. Ah'm from America—Tennessee, to be exact. How tall are you?"
Jack shrugged. "I don't know."
The American stood in front of him, looking up with the smile that make Jack's balls roll. "Yeah, well, Ah'm six foot and you're at least a head taller'n me." He put his hand on the top of his head and glided it across to Jack's chest, allowing it to linger, flattening it above Jack's rapidly pounding heart.
"Uh, do you always touch men?" Jack asked through dry lips, over the sound of Maisie's clanging and his drumbeat of a pulse.
"Ah'm a peddler. Ah've spent as much time in barns with farmers as I have with farmers' daughters." He chuckled at his own joke. "And ah know when a man won't mind bein' touched."
His blood racing like a thoroughbred, Jack gulped, causing his Adam's apple to bounce and betray his excitement, thus, emboldening the American.
"Your height got me wonderin'," he said, dropping his eyes and not in shyness. He brushed the front of Jack's dungarees.
Jack's breath caught as the peddler raised his brown eyes again, sparkling with mischief and challenge. "Wonderin' what?"
The American smiled, nodding his head to the rope in Jack's hand. "Ah'm Enoch. What are you doin' with that old cow?"
Jack tore his eyes from him to Maisie. "I need to sell her."
"You won't get more'n a shillin' or two for her. Need the money that bad?"
"Doesn't everybody?" Jack asked with a shrug, tightening the hold on the rope in a defensive grip, bringing on more lowing from the animal.
With another chuckle, the American agreed. "Guess that's so. What's your name?"
His testicles leapt as the peddler grazed him again. "Jack," he groaned.
"I gotta take this load off for a while, Jack."
"You want me to come with you?" Jack surprised himself by asking. "There's a spot up there that can't be seen from the road."
The American lifted his eyebrows. "You know a lot of secret spots around here?"
"Enough.
"You're a looker, kid. But Ah don't fuck just anybody Ah see along the road."
Jack lifted his chin, his voice hardening. "I don't either."
"Alright, tug your cow along and show me this spot."
Ragged breaths would betray his excitement, so Jack fought hard to control his body as he led Enoch past the next farm to some stone steps. When they descended, it would be just a few feet to the rocky brook. They'd cross that and turn left to the old willow tree, a canopy of green that touched the ground and secreted anyone beneath its fronds.
"How is someone from Tennessee in England as a foot peddler?" Jack asked, willing his erection to wait just a few more minutes.
Enoch laughed. "Long story, but if you really want money and we were in Knox County, you could get a reward for a fugitive slave."
Jack let him walk down the steps first, taking the opportunity to appreciate the peddler's pack bouncing up from contact with his enticing ass.
Enoch looked back and smiled when they came to the brook. "After you."
They shared a grin as Jack tied Maisie to a wild mulberry bush next to the water. She gave him a grateful moo and began eating the foliage. Jack stretched his leg to the first round stone that filtered the brook's blue water. "Watch your step," he warned Enoch. "The rocks can be a bit—aah!"
The water was deeper than Jack had thought. He fell in with a splash, to the delight of Enoch, who extended his brown hand to help him up. Jack rose, still holding his hand, their bodies close together. He'd never felt so desperate for anyone before. Their eyes held, betraying every emotion between them. Jack's wet trousers betrayed more.
Enoch snickered. "We better get to where we're goin' or you're gonna bust outa them breeches."
"It looks like you wouldn't be far behind me," Jack said, lowering his glance.
"Let's just get there," Enoch rasped, his voice lower and no longer laughing.
Jack's wet breeches squeaked and dripped as he hurried to the willow drape. The temperature dropped out of the waning sun and he shivered.
"You should take off that wet shirt," Enoch suggested, dropping the pack to the ground and walking closer, his dark brown eyes reminding Jack of heating tinder wood.
His fingers shook, seeming to have grown too large to manage his shirt's buttons.
"Let me help ya with that," Enoch offered in that low voice that went straight to Jack's already protesting groin.
Enoch's shirt had cut-off sleeves. Jack ran his hands over the hard, brown biceps as his vest was unbuttoned and opened...as his chest was bitten and slathered by Enoch's tongue...as his fly was opened and grateful cock momentarily released, before being trapped in a powerful hand.
Enoch took Jack's hand and guided him to his own freed and insistent meat. Jack rubbed over it, learning the uniqueness of the pattern of veins under the skin, the texture of his foreskin. Circumcision wasn't common but Jack had seen that one man, Joshua, with the curling beard and exposed tip before, so he wasn't surprised. He pumped faster, his hand bumping against Enoch's swollen testicles, eliciting short, broken breaths inaudible outside the willow.
With his free hand, Jack tugged down Enoch's trousers, claiming handfuls of his buttocks. Enoch reciprocated, dropping Jack's to his thighs and slapping the wet cheeks.
Jack closed his eyes, as the wonderful feelings in his body spread to his brain. He pushed his hips to get even closer to the shorter man, giving himself to expert manipulation.
Enoch's moan was the best sound Jack had heard all day and he joined him in a low keen, their voices and bodies in uncanny harmony.
"I'm...I'm..."
"So am Ah," whispered Enoch, raising his head to tickle Jack's ear with his breath.
Jack lay his head on top of the American's as his semen flowed inside him like the brook beyond their willow tent, damming at the opening, the pressure intense, until the force, the need broke through, gushing into Enoch's hand and on his muscular, brown diaphragm, like the brook overwhelming its banks.
Enoch shuddered thrusting against Jack, seeking his own relief. Jack jerked his hand more rapidly, offering the man safe haven for his outburst, savoring the feel of the slickened shaft.
The peddler dropped his head on the abnormally tall local boy's chest. His exhale was low and long. "That beats all the times in barns with farmers." He wiped his hands on the sides of his breeches and wrapped his arms around Jack's waist.
"What about the farmers' daughters?" Jack huffed, angry at himself for the jealousy he heard in his voice.
Enoch looked up at him, his brown eyes mellow after they'd earlier burned. "No contest," he hesitated before adding, "but I gotta go now and you need to take care of that cow."
"Maisie," Jack said. He buttoned his shirt and pulled up the still-damp dungarees.
Enoch smiled as he settled his pack back over his shoulders. "Maisie."
They shared a final hug and separated as they exited the natural curtain. Jack frowned. Where was the cow? She wasn't there with the mulberry bush.
"Maisie," he shouted, running to the shallow spot in the creek and splashing in to the other side. The rope was gone, and the cow bell lay on the ground. "No," he cried.
He ran his hands through his black curls and crawled around for any sign of the animal of the person who had taken her. "Ma's gonna kill me. Maisie?"
"Jack, she's gone." Enoch lay a soothing hand on his shoulder.
Jack sat with his knees raised to support his arms and distraught head. He rocked back and forth, hoping for a miracle, while the other man stood over him, unsmiling.
"Ah feel bad about this," Enoch said, digging in his pocket. "Here, Ah've got a shillin' and..." he pushed his hand deeper in the pocket, "Ah've got these."
Jack lifted his head and Enoch dropped into his hand a shiny coin and five shriveled, green things. "What are these?"
"They're magic beans."
"Magic beans? What kind of magic?"
Enoch's smile returned. "You'll see. Just plant them when it rains." He held out his hand. "Get up, Jack. You need ta get home. Ah'll look for ya when Ah come this way again."
Jack allowed the peddler to help him up and stared down at the six items in his hand. This wouldn't satisfy his mother.
"Remember, Ah told ya she wasn't worth more than a shillin' or two," Enoch said as he walked up the steps to the road. "Plant the seeds. You've got luck comin' to ya."
"Or, I could turn you in for the reward," Jack said, taking Enoch's arms as if he'd captured him.
In the moon's first beams, Enoch frowned. "Don't let down a friend, Jack. Ah'll do everything Ah can for ya, but don't let me down."
He shifted the weight of his pack and resumed his earlier trek. Jack watched him walk away, confused but happy. This felt like and important meeting, not just a one-off in the willow.
"Ah know ya got yer eyes on mah ass again," Enoch called back without turning around.
Jack grinned and headed in the opposite direction, minus Maisie, but with a coin and beans.
"And Ah got mah eyes on you," Enoch added from a few feet behind him.
The road in twilight was deserted. How often did Jack have the chance for such mischief? He lowered his dungarees, his arse catching the light of the moon.
"Whoa, Ah'm for sure lookin' for ya when Ah come back."
Chuckling, Jack pulled up his pants and ran home.