BROKEN
By Wes
Leigh
This is a work of fiction intended
solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance to any real people
or places is purely coincidental. Readers who would like to chat are encouraged
to contact me at weston.leigh@protonmail.com.
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the author and is protected by copyright laws. The author retains all rights.
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Driving home from the auction, I sit next to Monty with his
arm around me and my hand resting on his leg.
"You want to explain to me how we became co-owners of
Misty?" I ask.
"Well, it's like this, Cowboy. When I saw them lead her into
the auction ring, I knew a good horse was up for sale. Great bloodline, from
what I've heard. Outstanding confirmation. And rumor has it she's been trained
by two of the best horsemen this side of the Mississippi."
When I hear that, I giggle and lean my head against his
chest.
Monty hugs me against his side and continues, "She looked up
at me, and I knew what she was thinking. `You better buy me and take me home
with you,' her eyes were saying. `Why would I do that?' my eyes ask her.
`Because,' she replies, `I'm gonna be a champion show
horse one day, and no one else here knows how to train me up right.' Well, I
leaned forward and asked her, `Don't you know a horse can't become a champion
by herself? She needs a good cowboy to ride her to victory.' Now ... I don't know
if you can believe this Truman, but I'll swear it happened. Misty nodded her
head at the door you went out and looked back at me and said, `I have a good
cowboy. The best rider ever. Now are you gonna bid or
sit there and let someone else take me home?'"
My fingers are tracing circles on Monty's thigh. I'm
struggling not to laugh at what he's telling me. "Do horses always talk to you
like this? Is that why you're such a good trainer?"
"They do," Monty assures me, "although some horses don't
have much to say. They can be pretty simple creatures, you see. But this little
filly was smart. Her eyes spoke to me, and I knew I had to buy her. Fortunately,
I have a nice bit of savings stashed away from my time in the army. It's a good
thing, too, because there were four other bidders who were bound and determined
to take Misty home. Not as determined as me, because, like I said, I know a
good horse when I see one and she kept looking at me and nodding her head when
she wanted me to raise the bid."
I'm giggling now, sliding my hand higher up his thigh. "So,
you outbid everyone and bought Misty? Then how did my name get on the ownership
papers?"
Monty's hand is caressing my shoulder now. His thumb is
making small circles on my neck, matching the circles I'm making on his inner
thigh. "That's the funny part, Cowboy. While we were walking down to sign the
papers, your father took me aside and asked if I'd let him buy the horse back. Seems
he wanted to give her to his boy as a birthday present or something."
I turn and look at Monty with a big grin on my face. "He
did?"
"Yep," Monty replies, "but I asked him why Carson would want
a horse, since he's going off to college soon."
I punch Monty's leg for teasing me. "Poppa has two sons, you
know."
"Oh, I do. And one of them gave me a huge kiss, right on the
lips, in front of the whole world."
I giggle. "I did, didn't I?"
"Yep."
"I'm sorry, Monty."
"Don't be. I enjoyed it. Especially when your Poppa's eyes
got really, really big."
I laugh and ask, "So get back to your story. What happened
next?"
Monty grins and continues. "Well, your Poppa agreed that he did
indeed have two sons, and with Carson heading off to college this fall, it
probably wouldn't be a good idea to have his oldest boy look after Misty. I
asked him if his other son was any good with horses—" I punch his leg again,
harder— "ouch! And when he said the boy could ride a bit, I decided to take him
up on his very generous offer, but I said I wouldn't sell her back. I'd only
sell him half, because I want to partner up with his boy. I'll do the training.
The kid can ride the horse. Maybe together, we'll turn Misty into a champion
show horse."
I slide my hand up to the hard lump jutting sideways in
Monty's jeans and give it a hard squeeze. I'd better take care of my partner
soon. I'd do it now, but he probably won't let me, not while we're driving. But
when we get home, it's the first thing I'm going to do.
͠ ͠
͠
Actually, it's the third thing I do.
The first thing is unloading Misty and taking her back to
her stall. I spend a long time, just hugging her and rubbing her neck and
shoulders and side. Monty's right. She does speak with her eyes, and she told
me she was home where she belonged.
The second thing is eating the incredible supper Momma has
waiting for us. She's not surprised we did so well at auction, and she doesn't
bat an eye when Poppa tells her about Monty and me owning Misty now.
Finally, while everyone else is watching television or
reading magazines or doing a crossword puzzle, Monty and I are saying good
night and headed for the bunkhouse.
We're tired. It's been a long day. We both need a shower,
and while the water is spraying down on Monty's back, I'm kneeling in front of
him, licking from his balls up to the end of his cock. He's rigid. The purple
cap is swollen. His balls are heavy. The veins on his shaft are sticking out. I
stroke him with my hand, loving how beautiful his cock is.
I pull him down and take just the tip in my mouth. I suck
gently, sliding my tongue around the ridge and into the hole and around the ridge
again. I push forward, feeling the spongy cap sliding along the roof of my
mouth. My lips are pressed tight against the shaft. My tongue caresses him.
Monty places his hands on my head, gently rubbing my wet
scalp, moving my hair to the side so he can see my eyes shining up at him.
I make another inch of his cock disappear into my mouth. It
touches the back of my throat, so I gag slightly, but control the urge, and
slide him deeper still. His cock is in my throat now. My eyes begin to water
instantly. I push again and swallow the rest, pressing my lips against his
furry pubes and heavy balls. I hold myself there, swallowing, gulping, then
pull off and hold just the end of his cock in my mouth. I breathe deeply
through my nose, hold my breath, and slide his cock back into my throat.
Monty groans above me.
I look up and he's staring down, his eyes locked on mine. He's
speaking to me with his eyes too, and he's saying, `I adore you, Truman
Nathaniel Greene, with all my heart.'
I adore him too. And I'm going to make this the best blowjob
he's ever had!
͠ ͠
͠
Cuddling in bed that night, he asks me one more time if I
want a blowjob too. I turn him down again. I don't know why, because my cock is
so hard I think it will break if I try to move it, but
I've decided that I don't want to cum tonight.
When I sucked Monty in the shower, he came so hard that my
mouth couldn't hold it all and his sticky cream was dripping down my face onto
my chin and neck and chest. When he finally stopped shooting, I stood up and
Monty washed me off. Then he tried to suck my cock, but that was when I told
him that I wanted tonight to be about me taking care of him. Nothing else.
I think this may be another sign of being in love. I'll let
him suck me in the morning. Or maybe just after midnight, if we're both still
awake. But for now, I want to hug him and hold him and press my boner against
him and fall asleep. We're partners now. Maybe everyone else thinks we're
partners because we own a horse together, but we know that it's more than that.
Much, much more.
͠ ͠
͠
Monty and I start training Misty the next day. The state
fair is coming up in two months and we want to enter her in the Western
Pleasure and Western Riding events. I'm very nervous. The competition will be
tough, and she's still a green horse. She's smart, but this will be all new to
her. Heck, I'm a green rider. I've never competed against other riders before. But
Monty says he's not just training Misty. He's training both of us, and he'll
have us ready.
I hope so.
͠ ͠
͠
The school year finally ends. Carson graduates, and we all
watch him walk across the stage to get his diploma. All the school cheers for
him, because he's a star football player, a good student, and a heck of a nice
guy.
No one cheers louder than me. He's also the best big brother
a guy could ever hope to have.
He turns and looks for his family when he's receiving his
diploma. He smiles when he sees us, and for the first time in my life, I think
I see tears in my brother's eyes.
I'm so proud of him.
͠ ͠
͠
Mattie settles down, once school is out. I suspect that
she's unable to recharge her malignant energies because she's no longer
spending time with her fellow witches from the Dark Nebula. Or it could be
because Momma is keeping her busy with chores. Mattie is responsible for the
vegetable garden and greenhouse, and she's having trouble keeping the rabbits
out. I'd suggest she use her evil spells on them, but she probably wouldn't
appreciate my humor.
͠ ͠
͠
Poppa surprises me a week before the state fair with a big
box, wrapped up in gift paper. "Consider it an early birthday present," he
says.
I tear through the wrapping paper, like I do every birthday
and Christmas. Lifting the lid on the box, I see a shiny, black silk dress
shirt. Western style. Silver piping along the edge of the collar and pockets. Pearl
snap buttons. It's gorgeous. I pull it out and find gray dress jeans
underneath. Below the jeans are gray riding boots.
Poppa is grinning at the astonished expression on my face. "These
should make you look snappy up on Misty when you're riding her around the ring
at the fair."
Momma nods. "We want our boy looking his best."
I give Poppa a huge hug, then drop the shirt in the box and
run to Momma, hugging her around the neck and kissing her on the cheek.
They both laugh at me when I grab up the box and everything
in it and run out to the bunkhouse to show Monty. He's not surprised. He's
holding my hat in his hands. He's had it steam cleaned, and it looks like new. The
black felt is spotless, and the blue headband is brighter than ever. "It's
going to make your blue eyes shine," Monty says, holding it out to me.
I take the hat, put it on my head, and stand in front of a
mirror, staring at my reflection. Monty stands behind me and wraps his arms
around me. He hugs me, rocking me gently from side to side. He's right. My eyes
match the hatband, and they both seem to glow.
͠ ͠
͠
Sitting on Misty's back, I'm waiting with the other
competitors for an official to open the gate and let us into the ring for the
Western Pleasure class.
I know Misty and I look good. This morning, I washed her
twice and brushed her out, then meticulously combed her black mane and tail. Her
legs shine like a raven's feathers, a deep black gradually brightening to the
smoky gray of her sides and back. My gray boots and gray jeans match Misty's
coat perfectly. My black silk shirt is glittering in the sun, like a night sky
filled with stars; it matches her legs, mane, and tail. The blue hatband in my
hat complements the turquoise medallions on Misty's bridle.
We look like we belong here, but I feel my stomach churning
with anxiety. My legs are shaking and I have to hold the saddle horn to keep my
hands from quivering.
A man unlatches the gate and swings it open. The riders in
front of me urge their horses into the ring at a walk.
"Let's go, girl," I whisper, my voice shaking.
Misty's ears prick forward. She arches her neck and prances
as she walks. I begin to calm down, knowing my horse isn't the least bit
afraid. When we pass through the gate into the ring, my legs stop shaking. My
teeth unclench. I'm where I should be, on Misty's back, showing everyone what
she can do.
Monty has coached me well. Everyone else heads along the
right wall of the arena. I turn left and walk Misty in the opposite direction. The
judge sees me and turns to follow us. I take Misty down the left wall and give
her the leg command to turn. My hands are motionless above her withers.
Inexperienced riders and horses use neck reining, so I'm showing the judge that
Misty is well-trained. She responds to my leg cues and turns gracefully, in
full view of the judge, and makes a large loop before falling in line behind
the other horses. The judge takes another look at us, then turns back to study
the rest of the competitors.
I see Monty in the stands. He gives me two thumbs up. Then
he grabs his mouth and pulls his lips up in an exaggerated smile.
Oh, yeah. He's reminding to enjoy myself out here. Smile. It's
Western Doggone-Pleasure, so I should be having a good time. When you're
competing, it's easy to forget that. You can get so focused on doing everything
just right that you begin frowning or scowling. Monty wants me to make it clear
that I'm having the time of my life, and I am. Misty is a joy to ride, and I
feel myself sitting straighter, pushing my heels down farther, and my face
beaming.
The judge is watching us again. I can see him out of the
corner of my eye, turning slowly to follow Misty and me as we walk around the
ring.
Misty is moving great. Not a slow plodding walk. Not an
anxious, stumbling walk. She's moving with a smooth, gentle stride. Her neck is
curved and she's showing off what a beautiful filly she is.
The judge holds two fingers up in the air.
The public address system crackles, and the announcer says,
"Trot. Trot your horses."
The judge is still watching Misty and me. I click my tongue,
and Misty steps out in a slow trot. I catch the rhythm perfectly on the first
stride and move with her. I can't be sure, but I think the judge nods his head
once when he sees that. I'm looking straight ahead, smiling. "Good girl," I
softly say. Misty tosses her head and prances.
We make it once around the arena at a trot. The judge holds
up three fingers. "Canter," the announcer says, "Canter your horses."
I nudge Misty with my right heel, cueing her to take the
left lead. She leaps forward and canters effortlessly around the ring. Her mane
and tail are flowing in the breeze, and I know she looks amazing. Her stride is
graceful; it's like I'm sitting in a rocking chair.
"Halt!" the announcer cries.
I've been expecting this. Monty warned me that some judges
do it, to see if the riders are paying attention. I sit back in the saddle and
pull the reins toward me. "Whoa, Misty," I call. She slides to an easy stop,
pulls her legs back under her, and stands calmly, waiting for my next command.
I know the judge is facing us this time. My head is turned
just enough to see him.
"Turn your horses at a walk," the announcer says. We all
move out again, circling to the middle of the ring and heading back to the left
along the outside wall. A few of the riders cut their horses too sharply into
the turn, and it looks awkward. That's not the horse's fault. We riders are
supposed to make our horses look good.
Misty and I make a large, gradual turn. I glance at my
family as we go by. Monty nods his head at me. He knows we're doing great.
͠ ͠
͠
The competition is over. We're sitting on our horses, lined
up side by side in the middle of the ring. We've ridden in both directions at a
walk, trot and canter. We've been asked to halt and stand patiently. We've backed
our horses. And now we're waiting for the judge to make his final decision.
He's walking slowly down the line, looking at each of us. I'm
staring straight ahead, smiling big. Misty is standing calmly, but she's
watching the judge. I see their eyes connect, and I imagine her telling him
what a smart girl she is. I smile even bigger. He glances up at me, nods, and
keeps walking.
When the judge reaches the end of the line, he moves around
behind us, walking slowly again. We all have our competitor numbers attached to
our backs, so I know he's writing down the winners in the order we've placed. I
hope we do well. I know we're new at this, and some of these other horses look
amazing, but I'd love to take home a ribbon for Misty. It would be super,
considering this is her first time showing.
A runner takes a slip of paper with the judge's results to
the edge of the arena and slides it onto a clipboard. The clipboard is attached
to a rope running up to the announcer's booth. Someone hauls the clipboard up
into the booth, and we all anxiously await the results.
The judge walks back in front of us and he points me,
motioning for me to walk Misty forward and line up next to him. Does this mean
what I think it means? I look into the stands and see Monty standing to his
feet, pumping his fist in the air. Momma and Poppa hug each other. Carson gives
Mattie a high five.
The judge points at another rider and has her walk her horse
behind Misty. Then he sends a third rider behind her.
The PA system crackles. "Folks, here are the results of the
open Western Pleasure class. First place goes to Misty Morning's Kiss, ridden
by Truman Greene."
I grin hearing the announcer using Misty's registered name. Pretty
fancy, huh? Now that's she's a champion show horse, I might have to start
calling her by the whole name.
A smiling woman walks up to Misty and me with the biggest
blue ribbon I've ever seen in my life. She attaches it to Misty's bridle. I feel
my eyes brimming with tears. I'm so darned happy right now and so proud of
Misty. I pat her neck, telling what a good girl she is. I tell her to walk, and
we start around the arena, to the cheers of the people in the stands. Misty's ears
are flicking forward and back as she walks, and she arches her neck a little
higher. I think she knows how special she is.
The announcer continues. "What you folks may not know is
that Truman is only thirteen and Misty is a two-year-old. Looks like we can
expect many more years of competition from this young cowboy and his filly. Let's
give the youngsters a big hand!"
My family is screaming and yelling. I'm feel my heart
bursting with pride, and I can't stop the tears from flowing any longer.
The announcer continues calling out the names of the second
and third places finishers, but I don't hear it. I can barely see, for all the
tears. Misty and I lead the way around the arena until the other competitors
have ridden out of the ring, then we follow them.
My family meets me outside the arena. Monty and Carson stand
on each side of Misty, Monty resting his hand on my thigh, Carson gripping my
knee. I put my hand on Monty's and press down to let him know how much I love
and appreciate him. Momma reaches up and squeezes my elbow, and Poppa claps me
on the back. Even Mattie is smiling at me, grudgingly.
͠ ͠
͠
We have a different judge for the Western Riding event. She's
an older lady, with fierce eyes that don't miss a thing. She's squinting,
watching me as I ride Misty into the ring. It's our turn to ride the pattern
while the judge critiques our every move.
We start out at a walk. Misty is alert, ears pricked
forward, stepping out nicely.
I click my tongue, and she trots. I catch the beat perfectly
and move with her. There's a pole on the ground in front of us. Misty trots
over it without pausing or changing her stride.
I nudge her with my right heel and send her into a left-lead
canter. We make a gentle curve around the far side of the ring and head back
toward the judge. We continue the curve and then make a flying lead change to
the right lead, curling back to the right. Then we make another flying lead
change, switch back to the left lead, and I ride Misty past the judge.
Another easy turn. Lead change.
Turn again. Lead change.
Over the pole at a canter, turn, lead change, turn again. I'm
so proud of Misty. Her lead changes are a thing of beauty. More like a ballet dancer
than a horse and rider.
We make the final turn and head straight toward the judge. I
urge Misty to pick up the pace slightly. We fly down the middle of the arena,
her mane and tail billowing out. I lean back and pull on the reins. Misty braces
her haunches beneath her and slides to a smooth stop, then stands up quickly. I
give her two seconds to collect herself, then I make the tiniest tug on the
reins. "Back," I whisper. Misty knows the drill. She tucks her head and steps
smartly back a dozen steps until I drop the reins forward and whisper, "Whoa."
She stops immediately and stands calmly, mane fluttering in the breeze.
I look at the judge, nod my head, and wait.
She nods back, unsmiling, and looks down at her clipboard, making
a few notes.
I walk Misty out of the arena. I'm happy, because I'm proud
of how we did, even if we don't get a ribbon this time.
͠ ͠
͠
Several more competitors take their turns in the ring. They're
good. Very good.
͠ ͠
͠
The judge calls us back into the ring for the results. I
ride Misty in and line her up with all the rest of the competitors. The judge
turns and points at me and Misty. Now she's smiling at us.
͠ ͠
͠
I ride Misty out with another blue ribbon attached to her
bridle.
͠ ͠
͠
Riding home between Monty and Carson, I'm holding both ribbons
in my hand, rubbing my thumb slowly over and over the shiny blue fabric. Monty
was right. Misty had what it took to be a champion show horse, but I think she
surprised us all by how quick she did it.
I lean over and rest my head against Monty's shoulder and
fall asleep.
The end of BROKEN, Chapter Twenty-Three