She believed it'd turn the young boy into a better man if he lived on the farm, working hard and learning the trade from his father. At the end of the day he came home to the house he lived with his dad, who had divorced Joey's mother many years before that. His legs were just as muscular, the shapes of them clear ever under his tight pants.Īnd so he did his tasks everday, sowing grain, carrying the heavy bails up and down from the field to the shed, brushing down his father's muscular work horses, cleaning up their stables and replacing their irons. Thick arms with a long vein running along them, thick pecs, and muscled abdominal muscles out in the open for anyone to admire, all of that muscle covered in a thin layer of sweat. The young wolf had lived his whole life on the farm and it showed: his thick grey pelt almost shining in the ever shining sun as he worked on the land, not just a boy with a six-pack but real man muscles. Always seen walking around shirtless, just wearing a pair of rather tight jeans with plenty of tears and hole, some already stitched close again over years of use, a red large bandana around his neck, a piece of hay sometimes hanging from between his lips. Joey was a tall, rather muscular young wolf.
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