Date: Tue, 26 Jul 2016 19:38:00 +0000 From: TCHASE MCPHEE Subject: ?JoLLy RaNCHeRs? 16 % This work of fiction is set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons of habitats, governmental or non-governmental areas, farmhouses, nor barns. % If sexual scenes involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if dude-to-dude sex stuff makes you wanna barf or is gonna screw up your mind, you should not read this story. % States and countries have various rules regarding reading or viewing `adult material'. It is up to you, the reader, to research this subject, abiding by their own laws and conscience. The pages of this story contain `adult material', intended for an `adult audience.' Bypass this warning at your own risk! % Sexual safety matters. Guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection and I don't mean going out and hiring a security guard...unless he gives your nuts and bolt a jolt. Hey dudes, if you have enjoyed reading NiFTy stories as much as I have over the years, consider adding some $upport for `internet $pace' or else I will have to start cutting handsome, hairy or steamy characters out of my stories. Do you dare imagine a story without any tops? http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Nifty Stories Archive Donation donate.nifty.org Donation information for the Nifty Stories Archive % "JoLLy RaNCHeRs" 16 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee ^ 0 ^ % Most of the time at the table, even so Rusty thought Danny and Davy were fun kids, he was more enthused with how Michael interacted with them. Too, when Luc came out from the kitchen with 2 chocolate sundaes, Michael accused him of being too lenient on the scoops! This drew the ire of the person concocting the treats, Nick barreling out of the kitchen, the whole tub of chocolate in one arm, manned with a scoop, "who's saying the owner is cheap on the scoops?" Rusty had to laugh, all fingers pointed at poor Michael! Two tables away, an old friend of Nick's yells over, "hey, Nick, while you're at it?" His spoon tapped his bowl, thrown as a hint. This was one of the times Luc found Nick in rare form. He could be cheap, but other times charitable, like right now, walking around the cafe, offering free scoops of chocolate ice cream, on the house! Not only could he be both strict, or witty, he was great in bed! Danny had to run over to his mom's table, when Nick reaches there, "not too many scoops for my mom, Nick," the kid says, "too much junk food is not good!" Kira had learned quite a bunch about Jude, married, to a guy, dying and leaving her with both boys to raise. The husband's family would have nothing to do with her, when it was found she moved the woman she was seeing on the side, into their home. This did not work out for Jude, finding her live-in mate not willing to contribute to the mortgage. Fortunately she was fine with the boys, never mistreating them, but slowly, what they had started to unravel. Just talking with Kira, Jude felt an attraction, but not the sort which would materialize into a love affair. More a `friend' connection. Jude hadn't had that kind of a feeling in a long time, which made her clear all doubts that she did the right thing, pulled up stakes and head out east. It wasn't much of a travel, but hauling a trailer behind the car and two flats later, Jude was glad she was met head on with a friend. "I'm afraid I've had to eat my own words, on the `junk food' rule. It was easier on the road, rather than stopping at a motel, buy food and have to cook for these vultures!" Already, the wheels in Kira's mind were turning, her brain manufacturing how Jude could fit in, "well, you know, my sister-in-law, Alice and I, have been planning to start a victory garden at the ranch, if you're interested?" "Funny you should mention that. I know, my friend, who is a friend of Marco, highly recommended me for the `foreman' job, but I'm really feeling uneasy about it." That was one of the things Kira hadn't gotten to, finding out how Jude got her foot in the door, "Marco hired you?" "Yes, well, through my friend, back in Spokane. Truly, she's been a lifesaver." Checking to make sure her wires hadn't been crossed, Kira says, "so, you want the foreman job, or not?" "Not if there's an alternative, but here's the thing, I really need the salary, you know, for my boys." "Of course," Kira acts flaky, nonchalant about it, whipping out her cell phone. "Who are you calling?" "Just give me a minute." Kira didn't move from her spot, dialing up Marco. When she connected, right off she informs him, "Hey, Marco. I got your foreman here... she's sitting right next to me... yes, I said `she'. He's a she, but don't worry, she's not taking the job... Instead, she's going to manage the sustainable vegetable gardens Alice and I have planned for the ranch... what do you mean, this is the first time you're fuckin' hearing of it? Get a life, Marco. Me an'Alice talked about it last night... well, that's your fault you weren't there with us, to hear it... fine. Fine. Fine. Oh no you don't. You're not going to pull that shit with me. You promised her a salary and that's what she's getting...fuckin' period!" Then she hung up. "My goodness," Jude was a little in shock, "maybe you should take the management position!" Proudly, Kira says, "then who's going to deal with Marco on all the other stuff?!" She liked Kira, for her ways in dealing with Marco and felt as if she not only gained a friend, but also an ally. Little did she know, "oh, if you don't got a place to stay, you can hang with me. We were all going to move out of our condominium, but seeing you have kids, we'll kick the men out and call it our `girl' pad!" "Kira," Jude puts a hand on hers, "how am I ever going to repay you for your kindness?" "Trust me, there are ways!" The two got out of their chairs, which was a signal for Danny and Davy. Already, Michael and the boys, Rusty, Luc and Nick were fast-friends. Michael was almost as pouty as the boys, in saying goodbye, but Rusty soon found out it was an act, "you are so good with kids, Michael!" "I had a big family. We were all close, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins and we saw each often. It's something I look forward to someday." "Really?" Rusty questions with a smile. "Oh, not that I'm putting the pressure on you or anything, Rusty." "Well, not that I was thinking about that, but the fact you haven't even proposed to me yet!" Rusty, who was not as attentive to the boys, as Michael, did overhear Kira using Marco's name, "so, what's up with the boss, Kira?" "You're the boss, you noob!" "You know what I mean." "Well, he didn't like it that Jude turned out to be a woman, but he also knew I was fuckin' him over on coming up with the plan of a manager for the `sustainable gardening' thing." "Hmm," Rusty addresses Kira and her issues, while Nick flirts with Michael, "I didn't even know we had a sustainable gardening program at the ranch." "That makes two of us. Jude and the boys are staying with me at the condo. I'm giving the men the boot!" "I thought everyone was moving out?" "Us girls are staying, but don't worry about me, your father's picking up the tab for the security deposit and first 6-month's rent!" Michael, gravitating towards Rusty, says, "thanks for getting Nick off my back." "You let him fuck you?" "You would let him?" Rusty matter of factly says, "Well, you haven't given me a ring yet, Michael. Maybe you've changed your mind and want to go after an older dude!" "You're joking dude. I'm more into younger!" Before they got too much into slinging sweet nothings back and forth, they decide on what they are supposed to do, in lieu of picking up the new foreman. "I could give you a tour of the town?" Rusty says. "Do you think we could swing by the jewelry store?" "We haven't even slept together, Michael. How can you even think of marriage." "Uh, like, you've been hinting for the past half hour?" Rusty always did that, getting into a certain frame of mind and winding up condemning himself to the gallows! "Maybe we could take a look." Heading out, Nick not only bids farewell, but throws Michael a kiss. "Like, what was that about?" Rusty questions. "He's Italian. Italians are very affectionate." "Well, just watch it that Nick doesn't go too-Italian on ya!" Looking out, into the town, down the street, Michael says, "oh look, is that the jewelry store?" Rusty wasn't sure about this, making a commitment. Though, he could not deny Michael being physically up to his standards, also a family-minded man, but they had just met and he wanted to make sure he was sure, "I thought you were broke, until your first paycheck?" Turning towards Rusty, Michael bit a lip, before saying, "you're okay with waiting?" "It'll be tough, but I think I can do it." They stare at each other, until Rusty notices a drip of chocolate, staining Michael's tank top, "uh, don't think I'm getting sweet on you," he leans forward, tongue touching the middle of Michael's pecs. "I can't believe you did that...in broad daylight!" Michael gasps. "Are you kidding. There are so many gay people in town, you'd be surprised if they all came out of the closet at once!" "Well," Michael says, stripping his tank top off, "maybe we can draw some of them out right now!" Rusty didn't mind, walking down the street with an `exposed' muscle man, especially one as handsome as Michael! However, instead of the whole town, they walked to the ranch truck and headed back. Instead of the turnoff for the clearing and the `log' men, Rusty speeds past. "Hey, I think you missed the turn?" "Thought I would introduce you to Hoot." "Who's Hoot?" "My horse. He stays with me, until he can get a better place." "Your horse has moved in with you?" Michael questions. "Not really. Really it's the other way around. I infringed on his privacy after the cabin fell down. But Monte was nice enough to salvage almost my whole bedroom and move it to the barn." Michael adds it all up, "so, Hoot, he lives in your bedroom?" "I never said he wasn't welcome, but I think he'd have a problem climbing the ladder to the loft?" His brain wasn't assembling the picture, "you're bedroom's in the loft?" "Yeah. I hope you're a good climber!" "I thought we were going to meet your horse?" "We are," Rusty says, "but how long does it take to shake a horse's hand?" "Horses don't have hands!" "Well, hold his hoof. Hoot will love you for it." "Why do I feel like I've just entered the Twilight Zone?" At least Rusty and Michael had something in common, Tv fans of the same show! % In the mean time, an hour ago, Wyatt Post and his employer and so-called partner, in both business and the business of bedding down, walk into the lumber business. Jon Tor, who had just come to work at the `Post & Beam Lumber' store, was at the rack, refilling dowel sticks. "Busy, Jon?" "Not too much, sir," Jon replies, dropping a handful of the long sticks in a square compartment. "Stop what you're doing and bring one of those sticks over here, why don't you?" Wyatt and Jon were more or less in the same boat. Both had been unfortunate enough to be `used' at the Club, and have had the mishap of falling into Jake Beam's corner pocket, without escape. "Yes, sir," Jon innocently takes a dowel stick, bringing it over. However, when he gets there, Jake says, "No, no, no, way too thin." Sending Jon back to the rack, "Wyatt, show him which dowel stick I mean." At the dowel stick rack, Jon asks, "what's Jake want it for?" Not with one of the store employees, Wyatt right now the `only' employee at `Post & Beam Lumber,' clues Jon in, "it has to be just the right size to fit," he chickens out, "you'll see." After all, it wasn't any of Wyatt's business, divulging anything to Jake's new recruit, even though they both were going to be involved in something very kinky and very shortly! Wyatt leaves it in Jon's possession, Jon handing it over to, "here you go, Jake." Same condition as happened to Wyatt, Jake says to Jon, "from now on, you will refer to me as `sir.'" Jon saw no problem there, calling his own father, `sir', "okay, sir." When Jon turns he was sort of shocked, Wyatt standing there, right on the sales floor of the lumber warehouse, shirt stripped. More psyched up on the wavy fur coursing over his co-worker's chest and stomach, he didn't realize anything wrong with being half-naked, during store hours, that someone could walk in on them. "Now, Jon, you will join Wyatt?" He didn't right out get it, Jon repeating, "Join him? I don't get it." Wyatt had experienced Jake's kinky little behaviorisms before. He couldn't say it wasn't cock-invigorating, "he means `off with the shirt!'" Jake didn't thank Wyatt, just stood there, waiting, "today, boy?" Slowly, the thought kicks in, Jon saying, "oh, you mean me?" Wyatt remembers the first time he hesitated, learning how good a shot Jake could be, planting his fist in his gut. In his estimation, Jon was a beautiful ginger-blond lad. Then thinking on it, `lad', Wyatt didn't think there could be more than 4 or 5 years difference between them in age. Now though, he kept his mouth shut. It was one of the things which turned Jake on, waiting to see how stoopid a guy was. Fortunately, Jon reacted much more quicker. Maybe it was because Wyatt stood there, but if he had his shirt off and Jake was asking him to go shirtless, it was no biggie, stripping his Post & Beam tee off overhead. Putting Wyatt down, Jake says, "at least we've got one smart boy here." Then, without further hesitation, "get on with it Wyatt." "What the hell?" Jon says, watching Wyatt carefully insert one end of the dowel stick in his own navel. "Now. You," Jake says. Wyatt adds, "if you know what's good for you," he holds up the other end. Jon couldn't say it was the weirdest thing he's heard of. That would be some dude, after unloading his spunk on his tongue, peed inside his mouth, holding his cock to the back of his mouth and grabbing his head, so he couldn't back out of it. "Time's running out," Jake scantily looks at this watch, not tuned to the actual time. "Here," Wyatt makes sure the dowel stick is stuck deeply into his already stretched bellyhole, holding the other end up. Taking it, Jon was sure he was in deep shit, accidentally pulling the dowel stick out of Wyatt's navel. It falls to the floor, making several tapping sounds. "Pick it up." What Jon perceived as something utterly stoopid, now changes his mind, with the inflection of derogatory stress of Jake's voice. However, bending down to pick up `the stoopid stick,' a kick in the butt is waiting for him. "What the fuck?" Jon sits there on the floor. "You don't do as you're told, that's what you get." Maybe Jon was getting what Wyatt hinted of, thinking twice about working off his bar tab at the lumberyard. In the twinkling of an eye, Jon was up on his feet, running down the aisle which leads to the back door. "Get him!" Jake shouts at Wyatt. Wyatt had just about had enough of this. Bad enough, he was subject to pretty weird stuff and wasn't about to allow Jake ruin another person's life. He stood there. "I gave you an order!" Still, Wyatt stood there, showing Jake he had had enough, putting his shirt back on. Suddenly though, they both hear a loud thud, coming from the front yard of the lumber warehouse. Hustling out, there is a bright, shiny black pickup, one of the forklifts smashed into the side of it. Behind the wheel of the forklift is Jon! Jon could see, with the only vehicle he had a key to, he wasn't going to make a getaway. Out from the truck, one of Jake's friends, and customer, both in business and pleasure derived from `the Club,' comes storming at him, "is that your boy?" Knowing how justice can be handled, on the lumberyard grounds, which to Jake seemed like a private sovereignty, rules and laws not applied with the chainlink fences, "not anymore, Ken!" Ken walks quickly towards the forklift, "wait till I get my hands on you, you little piece of shit!" Apparently, Jon must've gotten a leg wedged in somehow, because even though he was coherent, could not free himself from the work vehicle. "He could be hurt," was Wyatt's concern. Jake, he had no concern whatever, other than what Ken could and most likely `would' do, giving Jake his jollies, which in turn would get his balls churning. Knowing the score, not the first time he's seen Jake with a hand down his pants, Wyatt rushes over just in time, right before Ken is ready to pummel Jon's jaw with his fist. "Uh, I won't do that if I were you?" Wyatt holds the crook of Ken's impending punch. Yelling over, Ken shouts, "wanna call off your bitch, Jake?" Quite humored about the whole ordeal, Jake didn't adhere, except to stroking his cock...slowly. Taking matters into his own hands, or rather fist, Jake decks Wyatt with a punch to the stomach, sending him to his knees. Turning around to the forklift, Ken says, "you're turn now, bitch!" Cleverly, when the punch is thrown at his face, Jon squashes his whole bod backwards, even though it killed his ankle. Ken's fist goes right past Jon's nose, into the side of his own truck, "oh shit-oh shit-oh shit," he withdraws his hand quickly, hopping around the yard, holding an injured hand between his legs. It looked very much like he was playing with himself! "Good move," Wyatt uses the forklift to lift himself to his feet. "Thanks," Jon smiles. However, one thing irked Wyatt, as to why Jake wasn't behind him, with a surprise thrashing from the dowel stick. It would be typical of something Jake would do, beat Wyatt for even some dumb, little mistake. For once though, Ken turned from his vengeful ways, hovering over Jake, flat out on the ground, yelling, "we gotta get Jake to the hospital!" Not which Jake, not mumbling word, was important, Jon says to Wyatt, "yeah, me too. I think my foot is wrapped around something. If I move it, it hurts something fierce." Even though in pain, worse if Jon moves his leg even by a nudge, he's slowly processing Wyatt's next move, drawing his cell from his pants pocket. He's thankful this whole charade didn't go further. Wyatt knew, `shirt first', `pants next', briefs, and so on until he and Jon would be standing there in the buff! When the medics arrive, the only two the hospital `owned,' the young rookie doctor was with them, Jared Krempl, with little black bag in hand. Much as he thought Jon was first in line, Wyatt says, "you better take a look at Jake first." Wyatt didn't understand a whole bunch of medical jargon, but knew Jake in a bad way when one of them yells, "Clear!" The first shock didn't bring Jake back. Second one, thought they had a pulse. Lastly, "clear," didn't result in anything but Jake lying there in the dirt. "Calling it," Jared says, immediately turning towards the forklift. Explaining how all this came to be, Wyatt figured the police would figure that out. Right now, his concern, walking towards Jared, then back, "Jon thinks his foot is mangled under something...or behind it." One thing was for certain, the young doctor wondered why two men, who were supposed to be working, dressed so, casually? Though, he wasn't really minding it one bit! "Let me take a look in here." Shortly after leaning over, seemingly all of Jared's bod fitting under the control panel, they hear, "A-ha!" Even though it should be a serious frame of mind, Dr. Krempl, hinged over Jon's lap, looked like he was ready to be spanked. Getting the full perspective, Wyatt saw how the doctor's pants fit, so snuggly over his rounded `melons.' Coughing, like someone does to get attention, Wyatt asks, "uh, would you be needing any help there, doc?" Extracting himself, Jon asks, "how's it going under there?" Under the panel, things were under control. What was not, is how the doc's cock was, rubbing against Jon's thigh, at the cost of trying to free up his foot, "going good," Krempl turns around, wiping the sweat from his brow. For conversation, he dwells on what he has been presented with, "I can see how you two are keeping cool in this unbearable hot weather?" "Oh, we're not..." Jon was ready to spill it. "What Jon was going to say, apparently the a/c in the office is not working and Jake, uh, Mr. Beam, he doesn't mind it if his workers, uh, work comfortable, if you know what I mean?" Wyatt fabricated the lie. Sounded sketchy to Jared, but faced with two hot, bare chested men, "of course. I understand completely." A bit of euphoria settling over Jon, he could have sworn Dr. Krempl's jockstrap area was sporting something, but wasn't sure exactly what was turning him on, since, being in pain, he wasn't pushing any sexual buttons for him. Not until he thought about it just now, reason enough for Jon to stalk Dr. Krempl's crotch. Wyatt notices Jon looking down, trying to move his head so his eyes could peer down the front of the doc's chest, "how's the foot feel, Jon?" "Foot?" Jon was surprised as hell, "uh, feels pretty good." Dr. Krempl throws opinion, "Pretty good? I'd say, for a broken ankle, maybe more, you should be in quite a lot of pain!" Call it jealously, maybe that's what it was, Wyatt seeing Doc Krempl get his point across by affirming his diagnosis, hand on Jon's thigh, remarking, "I bet you're feeling much better, eh Jon?" "Uh," Jon refuses to entertain Wyatt, "how long before you free me up, doctor? It's getting kind of sweltering out here." "Okay. One last go," Doc Krempl slaps hands together, rubs them like a genie's bottle, "let's see if I have the magic touch." Wyatt sure wanted the `magic touch,' reaching right around the doctor's waist and unbuckling his pants. Except, he knew it not the time, nor place for thoughts like that. "Okay. Get ready Wyatt, to pull your buddy out, right...about...now!" Now, certainly Wyatt was feeling guilty, upon pulling Jon out of the driver's seat, the 24-year old wailing like a hurt animal. In his arms, Wyatt gasps, "oh my god! I think Jon just died!" Dr. Krempl turns around. "Hardly. I imagine, I myself could not have endured that kind of pain!" "Oh. That's good," Wyatt brushes Jon's sweaty hair from his forehead. Then, they hear the medics say, "we're en route." Dr. Krempl had heard them use that before, meaning they are on their way back, "fine." "I can't believe Jake is gone," Ken, who was ready to kill Jon for broadsiding his truck with the forklift, says. Then, turning towards his truck, Ken's forgiving heart is riled up once more, "hey, that little runt owes me for smashing up my truck!" Wyatt was ready to turn into a cheerleader, the doc stepping in, facing the angry monster, "fuck you, dickhead. Can't you see he has a broken foot," Jared makes it bigger than it is, for effect. Only then did Ken back down, "well, I better see if it starts." Knowing Ken, Wyatt knew he could be a nice guy. Just not nice when something rubbed him the wrong way. "What is it you came by for, Ken?" Wyatt asks. "Some lumber and nails, maybe a new ladder." "Take it." "You running the register?" Ken asks, knowing the ginger-kid rung him up yesterday. "Like I said," Wyatt lowers his voice, "take it." "Take it? Are you joking? Jake will...oh wait a minute," Ken suddenly felt more relaxed, the dollar signs in his mind fading, "Jake, he ain't here anymore." Suddenly, helping himself to whatever he came for, plus some, it made Ken forget about ripping off the business owner! With the paramedics taking `dead' Jake back to the morgue at the hospital, it occurs to Dr. Krempl, "uh-oh." "What's wrong?" Wyatt asks. "Well, the ambulance is gone. I walked here. You got a car?" "On my salary?" Wyatt speaks, like the whole world knew what was going on between himself and Jake Beam. Looking up at the sign over the front door, Dr. Krempl says, "you own half of the business?" He was allowing his thoughts to float. Wyatt had it on his mind to inform the doctor, what Jake Beam was holding over himself and now, Jon Tor, "it's complicated. I'll tell you about it sometime." "Fair enough, but about the car?" He didn't have one, but with Jake gone, he might just make it his point to inherit the little red Corvette his `partner' bought for himself last year! Wyatt also knew Jake didn't keep the keys on him, but in the draw of his desk. Making it quick, before Jon melted in the sun, Wyatt hustles over to the office. "What luck," he says to himself, the door to the safe left open. Wyatt knew, for some time of the morning, while Jake sat in his office, doing paper work, he would leave the safe open. Fully opening the door wide, he spies a stack of bills. Now, he wasn't into stealing, but Wyatt felt he was owed some back pay. Forgetting Jon for a short moment, his mind drifted back over many a time a customer would approach Jake, knowing there was a way to release morning wood...and not the sawing kind! Right in the middle of a reverie, Wyatt having dropped his pants for `the boss', leaning over the desk, elbows bracing himself for what was about to take place, sometimes it made him squint eyes, sigh, over a fat doorknob pluggin' his ass, he's jolted out of his dream-like state, the doc calling his name! Not immune to the fact, Jake responsible for willfully having customers participate in `office-rape', Wyatt would keep tally, in his brain, of those whom used Jake's office like a revolving door. Some mornings Wyatt hurt so, he couldn't sit down on his coffee break! That was all behind him now. Plenty there for the having, Wyatt also took a pack of 10's for Jon. Thinking he's been there longer, he would give Jon the pack of 10's and keep 20's for his own wellbeing. Noticing a satchel, he loaded it up, found the keys to the Corvette and hightailed it out of there. Forgetting something, Wyatt turns around, heads back in, sweeping the autographed baseball off of Jake's desk. Rightfully, he wasn't stealing it, Jake confiscating it, just because he could! It was a minor trophy, given to him by his dad. Nowadays, there were plenty of hot athletes to ogle over...an Olympian bobsledder came to mind, but then so was another, a second call from the hot doc! In minutes, Wyatt had the Corvette out front and helped load Jon into the passenger side. However, human cargo wasn't all, Wyatt slipping a large backpack and satchel into a compartment behind the seat. "What's that all about?" Dr. Krimpl inquires. "Like I said, it's complicated!" As always, there usually comes a complicated tale, extracted from a person's life, so many factors, it takes much more than a few minutes to explain. At the least, Jared was satisfied, leaning in the window where Jon winced in pain, "well, you better get him over to the hospital." "I'm awfully sorry," Wyatt looked the part, "about abandoning you." "Don't worry about it," Jason removes his forearms, from leaving on the doorsill, "it's not like the hospital is in another town!" About to cut out, down the country road, leave it to Jon to come around. Running around the car, to once again check Jon's vitals, Dr. Krimpl says, "his pulse seems to be a bit elevated, but normal for a person going through what Jon did." Wyatt says to Jon, "you're not going to faint on me again?" Having know Wyatt for roughly almost 2 days, Jon thought he was hot, but not as hot as the doc, saying with concern for himself, "you're not going with me, Dr. Krimpl?" Jared looks over at Wyatt, having decided it in his mind, voices opinion, "it would make sense, in case Jon has a relapse?" Agreeing, Wyatt opens his door, steps out in the blazing sun and then provides valet service, after Doc Krimpl is inside. Watching the corvette drive away, Wyatt cups his hands, `begs', "take care of my car, y'here?" Indeed, the morning was warming up, Wyatt standing there in the modest parking lot, shirt stripped. Already, he found himself, on his lower stomach, running fingers up his hairy bod, careful not to stimulate his chest, `too much!' Dropping both hands, he turns to walk back to the place where he left his shirt, only with the need to make an about face. He didn't recognize the car, not the man behind the wheel. Driving almost up to Wyatt's knees, the ignition is turned off, driver getting out, approached him with hand out, curtly saying, "Hi. I'm Shane Dean, personal account to Mr. Veneziano. He sent me over to assess the financial situation, with Mr. Beam's passing." "Wow," Wyatt took the accountant's hand, "that was quick!" What Wyatt was also thinking, he's glad he never made it back into the lumberyard stocking area, to retrieve his shirt! Serious nature, turning into a smile, dropping the formal attitude, Shane says, "maybe you can give me the tour." Wyatt didn't perceive it as a request, but what did he care, Dean looking mighty fox, "of course. It would be my pleasure." Whenever Shane met a man of interest, as he did with the furry beast in front of him, certainly he would mix business with pleasure! Hitting the stockroom, which was a partial, outdoor facility, lined with chainlink fence and wooden slats, Wyatt says, "I think I left my shirt in here. I'll be with you in a moment." Back at Marco's office, Shane had been given direction on how to proceed with Jake Beam's financial assessment. Really, all that was required was a walk through and eyeball account of his physical holdings. Right now though, Shane was interested a `more than physical' inventory of materials. Grabbing Wyatt's wrist, "hold on a minute. Why don't you wait up on that shirt?" "Oh?" Wyatt suddenly gets the connection. "Y'see," Shane chooses his words with cunning, "Mr. Veneziano also clued me in on some shady business dealings of Mr. Beam. I thought I should make that part of my inventory assessment?" He knew where Shane was going with this, so took advantage, "you know, in no time, as the sun rises, the indoor part of the lumberyard gets mighty hot?" Following Wyatt's lead, now which Shane has seen the message has gotten through, takes advantage of unbuckling Wyatt's belt, "I'm glad we see eye to eye." Under `duress' from his former employee, not all `tricks' were hit and run. Dropping his pants, getting fucked and by the time he turned around, sap dripping out of his ass, Wyatt's perpetrator nowhere to be seen, there were some who liked a lot of foreplay and some `after-play.' Even, if Wyatt was good at `cleanup,' he would find a tip in his pocket. "What did you have in mind?" What did Shane have in mind? If only he had a clear cut plan, knowing the situation he was walking into, a bear-sized man, decked out with dark brown hair from shoulders to belt line, a little chubby here and there to boot, rugged pecs a man could hold onto...and nips...before Shane could do anything else, "I've gotta get myself a taste of these!" It's not the first time a man savored Wyatt's chest, "oo-o-o-oh-yeah," his head dropped back, feeling the sweet pleasure of cupped lips." Knowing he was keying Wyatt up, Shane's hand on his crotch, "like that do you, boy?" Now, Wyatt knew he was older than the accountant, but it's not like he hadn't played this game before, "very much, thank you, sir." >From sucking on one nip, through the forest of fur, to seeking out both nips with fingers and thumbs, Shane taunts Wyatt's chest, "I think we could have some together." Feeling the same, literally, tough approach at tweaking both his nips, Wyatt says, "does that mean you're including me in your inventory, sir?" He knew the routine, Shane not a stranger to leather clubs, nor bear bars, "depends on how tight the hole!" Wyatt, `woofs!' They had established a connection, but Shane also knew he had Marco to answer to. Didn't matter, his dad knowing Marco from the army. Main purpose was to eyeball the inventory, "maybe we can pick this up from where we're leaving off, later?" "Name the time and place!" Wyatt's nips and balls were coercing him into a favorable reply. "Maybe you can save me some trouble. How many trucks do you think it would take to clean out the lumberyard?" "What was that?" Giggling, Shane didn't want to stop massaging Wyatt's hips, above the belt, with serious attention deficit to what he was supposed to be doing, "nice, smooth skin, where it's not fur-covered. What I wanted to know, is how many trucks would be needed to fill up the entire contents of the store and haul it away, say in an evening?" He didn't get the `why', but Wyatt was aware of the direction Shane was going with this, "it's hard to say." In a way, Wyatt was confused, Shane sinking in and out of business, vs. pleasure. For instance, when Shane mentions, "well, what about that tour?" he's removing his jacket, loosening his tie. Wanting to more than getting on with lumberyard business, Wyatt says, "need help with that?" Playing up Wyatt, Shane knew, trying to pull his necktie out from the knot, making it look like he was having trouble, would get Wyatt involved, "yeah and when you're done, you can help me off with the shirt, boy!" A wink and smile made Wyatt's balls churn, with Shane's hints. Adding some of his own, Wyatt says, "maybe we should start by looking over the books, in Jake's office?" At times, Shane's done the leading, but other times, loved be led into the `den of iniquity', "whatever you think. Grab my jacket, will you?" Also, sometimes following, it helped a dominant, top man to assess more than financial books, eyes on Wyatt's ass-sets! When first it being announced, Jake changing the name of the business to reflect his own surname, `Post', Wyatt was thrilled about getting into a relationship. When it went sour, with the first time he got fucked, being informed by Jake, he was working off his bar tab, Wyatt was appalled at getting his ass reamed. One on one, Wyatt might have been able to fight it off, but with Jake and two others, it was useless to put up a fight, even though he tried. It just earned him a workover, one of the men putting him in a full nelson, the other gut-punching him. It was also the first time Wyatt saw Jake's `true colors', his dick whipped up, stroking, while he suffered. However, a guy doesn't go through stuff without learning a lesson and Wyatt swore he would never go to a bar, get drunk and at least never allow a man to pay for his drinks. >From his bitter lesson, Wyatt also began to taste the honey. Not only sucking down a man's full load, or more than one man at a time, or in succession, some dudes liked to do kinky stuff, not which Wyatt was totally against, especially when it caused him to shoot large loads! "There's some rope in the filing cabinet, if that turns you on?" Sometimes with games, rules needed to be followed, like some kind of high tech protocol. Contrary to this, no way in hell did Shane believe he was going to scare Wyatt off, "really?" "Well," Wyatt says, with casual attitude, "at first I wasn't sure, but when a guy doesn't have a choice...what I'm trying to say is, and I get the feeling this isn't going to turn you off, I like to get tied up, especially by a much younger man?" He was fishing, but so was Shane, "and how old are you, old man?" it was accompanied by a smile. "Thirty-four. You?" Whipping his tie from the collar, Shane says, "Twenty-six. Young enough for you?" "I'm not too old?" Unlike most times for Shane, a guy-to-guy hookup did not wind up with all the mushy kissy-kissy stuff, but he was feeling different just now, approaching Wyatt, lifting his heels off the floor to reach his head up, touching lips, "not really." Being bent backwards over the desk, Wyatt exclaims, "Ouch!" "Whats-samatter?" Shane says, having been football-blocked into standing. "Damn it, Jake...would you believe he won the 2015 County Businessman of the Year award?" "Which should rightfully belong to you?" "Wait," Wyatt was slowly figuring it out, "you knew?" "Me? I'm knew to town, but Marco, yeah he's filled me in on a couple of unruly business practices of the former owner." "Former owner?" Wyatt questions. "You might have been Mr. Beam's `call boy', but there's a lot going on behind the scenes, you apparently didn't know about?" "I knew he dealt with seedy people. On account of `what', that I don't know," Wyatt was sincere. Shane was hungry and it wasn't that he skipped breakfast. If anyone ask, `what would your ideal man be like?' appearance, the hunk wouldn't look much more different than himself; tall, not too wasted away around the waistline, a few extra pounds was okay. He liked staring Wyatt in the face, quite handsome with his beard, short haircut and whether is mattered, or not, the receding hairline, with a patch in the middle. From the top of Wyatt's shoulders, the mass of dark brown hair began, covering both pecs. Starting midchest, all that mass came a single path, tight strands, woven into a single `braid'. The stripe continued, but shortly integrated with a patch, covering his whole stomach, the trail embedded in the beautiful covering of brown. Shane was very tempted to do something, which some men would call `weird,' stick his finger in Wyatt's navel. He loved `em deep and when the moment grabbed him, would bend over and see how far he could tongue-fuck a deep innie. Lost in where the treasure ended, drive to see more, he's interrupted, "so, you done checking me out or what?" Wyatt stands there, holding a document, concluding his reading. "Check you out? What on earth do you mean? Don't be silly!" Wyatt knew. Besides, if Shane were paying more attention to his reading, he wouldn't need to rip the paper out of his hand and recap for himself! Shane finds out what the most important paper, what it means to Wyatt. "So, does it look legal? Does the Corvette really belong to me?" Lurking in his mind, Shane didn't care about the luxury car, more wanting Wyatt to `belong to him,' "really? That's all you're thinking about is a dumb car?" Truthfully, Wyatt was under the impression Shane came into the office for business purposes, but seeing something different, "would you want me to get the rope out of the filing cabinet?" Smiling, Shane says, "trust me, I'd love to hogtie you and do things to you, but lets cut through some of this inventory first and get to those things...later." Wyatt was okay with that. At least there was going to be, a `later!' % Meanwhile, Marco was keeping Rusty busy with the `little stuff', which meant not much which would get the lad's hands dirty. Having `spent the night,' Michael wakes first, turning over in bed, but watching it, that he doesn't roll over the edge and tumble out of the loft. He deems it a close call, the top of the ladder saving his life. Still, it's better than spending the night with his the other 3 he rode out with, from Seattle. With no motel reservation, they camped out. One of the things that irked Michael, even though they were best friends, they knew he didn't mess around with multiple partners. If they wanted to get it on, he'd either have his own tent, or sleep out under the stars. Right now though, stars were in his eyes, looking upon Rusty, lying there in bed, on his back. Last night it had been cool, because he had mentioned, he was into cuddling, kissing, a little sucking, but until he thought he was getting serious with a guy, fucking was off the board. Suddenly flicking his eyes open, Rusty looks to his left, "you up?" Pulling the sheet down, Michael says, "uh, let me look!" "You need to look, Michael?" "Nope. Maybe halfway. Started right after I woke up and began looking at you!" Then Rusty notices something. Getting up, balancing on an elbow, he exclaims, "oh wow. I really did a job on your pecs last night, didn't I?" Rubbing a hand over his big-barreled chest, Michael says, "yeah, my nips are still a bit sore, but tell you, you really got a big reaction out of me!" There were a few things Rusty loved about Michael, his laughter one of them. He started out in what sounded like little sneezes, progressing into a big, `har-de-har-har'! "I can see that," Rusty says, fingers messing with dried substance on Michael's stomach-stubble. Last night, Rusty told Michael it `sacrilegious,' that how dare he shave off that beautiful man-fur! At the time, it wasn't what Michael was thinking, something more bold and beautiful than his contoured abs, which is why right now he was apologizing, "sorry. If it bothers you that much, I can grow it back?" Rusty took this as a test, "like, how long does that take?" Grinning, Michael knew, the wait would be well worth it for Rusty, "um, could take up to a whole year!" Rolling out of bed, Rusty callously says, "well, I'm not waiting that long!" Scared, not scared like scary-scared, but afraid Rusty didn't like him, just because he did a little man-scaping, "you're not gonna like me, just because I'm smooth?" Showing he was playing with him, Rusty says, "who says I don't like you?" "I dunno. I just thought...you're in such a hurry to get away from me?" Michael lay there, splayed out in an eagle-spread position, hands behind his head, flaunting those big pecs, among other things. "Get used to it...I got a horse to feed!" Last night, he gave Evan the night off, one he hasn't had in ages, since Rusty had gone off to boarding school. Yet, it was of no imposition taking care of Hoot, according to Evan learned a thing or two about horses. Having never ridden one, a few falls later he was a pro at it. He also gave Rusty the heads up, how cowboys like other cowboys, who could expertly ride horses! Seeing rusty, a bunch of clothes in hand, hat on top of his head, graze the top of the ladder, Michael hustles, "wait up...I'll help!" He was fortunate, Monte doing the honorable thing, having his dresser hauled over to the barn. Looking through the drawers, he suddenly catches Michael, coming down the ladder, in the reflection of the mirror. He was really built, muscularly, but what stood out, even when he was soft, he was big! "Like, oh my god, Michael!" "What?" Michael says, putting a foot in yesterdays briefs. "Don't tell me you're going to walk around all day in those stinky, smelly, dirty clothes, not to mention, shower?" Dropping the briefs, which looped around one ankle, Michael says, "Shower? Am I invited?" "Here," Rusty throw him some briefs, "you can go through my drawers to look for whatever else you need." Rusty had left himself wide open for criticism, "I can't, until you put them on!" There again, was that kooky laugh, which Rusty could not possibly contain himself, but quickly dummied-up, "I'm going to feed Hoot." Being Hoot's quarters in the same location, Rusty having to walk outside, it suited him to only slip on some briefs. Copying, Michael slipped them over his hips, finding them ample fit, even though he had to reach down in for adjustment! % On the other side of the ranch, about 2 miles slightly up the hill, a small group of campers lay sectioned off in the woods. Last night, Brett led the tirade in wanting to crash, even before his head hit the pillow. Except, he had a problem, sleeping next to Bart. Every five minutes he woke up, with the usual, Bart laughing in his sleep or moving about erratically, flinging arms about. Once, years ago, Brett got a bloody nose as a result of this. Brett didn't blame his friend, not for something which wasn't controllable. He remedied this by stealing a football helmet, picking the lock of a gym jock, running out of the locker room in the middle of the night, after having broken into the school. It remedied the abuse, but he still had problems falling asleep. And then, Bart had the nerve to accuse Brett of being sleepy in the morning, unable to get out of bed! Yup, they were good friends, especially the day before, it sort of a `war', each trying to heave that big saw to and fro, cutting through the very wide log. Both friends thought it kind of cool, two cowboys having pity on them, standing with them on each side of the huge saw. With Brett's sleeping problem, he saw an opportunity, a large tarp lain out on the ground. Grabbing his sleeping bag, he pull it out of the tent, almost toppling it, dragging out to the tarp and making it his bedroom. One of the things which amazed them, Coury took off, saying he'd be back later. At the time, the stars twinkling in the dark sky, Coury had not returned. However, when Brett woke up this morning, he wasn't alone on the tarp. In fact, a hairy forearm was over his bod. He pushed it away as if a scorpion threatened him. Though, he was curious to whom it belonged. Calling the whole tarp his property and upon wakening the owner of the arm, Brett scolds, "what do you think you are doing?" Turning over, it was local deputy, Darryl Dowdle. He could be a real prankster, instantaneous at being funny, which right now, he couldn't hold back, "Ak-k-k-k-k-k!" he screams out loud, like a ferocious bear, right there in front of him. Apparently, what had happened last night, Coury had come back to camp with Darryl. Pack on his back, Darryl didn't see any harm to laying out his sleeping bag next to...at the time, he couldn't tell which of the lads it were. Coury had already claimed the tent. When he entered, he was reluctant, equating it to sleeping right next to Bart in a bed. However, Bart said it didn't matter because they were both in separate sleeping bags. Coury saw it his way. This morning though, it was a different story. Upon hearing Darryl's scream. When Coury woke up, he had to throw Bart and his sleeping bag off his chest, before scrambling through the tent opening. "What the hell's up, Darryl?" "Nuthin'. I thought it was a bear. That's all," Darryl reports. Of all of them, anyone resembling a bear, it was Coury. Brett and Bart, they had nice, slim builds, maybe Bart with a little gut. Darryl was slim as they come, not having to workout to achieve his lithe build. Brett had plenty complain about, "I can't believe you snuck in next to me last night." "Um," Coury smiles, "I hate to be the bringer of bad news, Brett, but the tarp is Darryl's. I just prepped the ground with it, for him." "Oh," is all Brett said. Slowly, Bart makes his way out of the tent. He hadn't shed the sleeping bag, `wearing' it as he stood there, mouth wide open. "Slept good. How about you, bro?" Brett didn't say, either way, "I wouldn't have slept, if I slept next to you, bro," then running sentences, "what's for breakfast?" Coury jokes, "I dunno. Whatever it is you catch down at the lake, I suppose." He took a dive, back into the tent to collect his briefs, wherever they wound up last night. Bart didn't waste any time finding his, "is this what you're looking for?" Coury's brief, hanging off the tip of Bart's finger, "yeah. Give it here." "Say `please.'" He knew Bart was toying with him, gruffly saying, "please." "Say pretty-please!" "Fuck you," Coury steals them! "If only I could have been that lucky yesterday." Though, Bart was just talkin', because in reality, he was more pleasured by being primed by a hot mouth, before taking the plunge! Not far from that stream, Coury did connect with thoughts from last night, but knew 2 would not fit in a twin sleeping bag, "that makes two of us!" Bart wanted an explanation, thinking, had Coury just made a pass at him? "Who's ready for a bath?" Coury calls out, not waiting for anyone to answer, off and running towards the lake. Desperate to get answers, or at least interrogate Coury over what he meant, Bart doesn't wait for his friend. Darryl, half exposed, places hands behind his head, "well, I guess that leaves me and you!" "Wrong," Brett calls it, shedding his bag, "stay here and play with yourself!" He's hot on the trail of his buddy and `warden.' "Play with myself, eh?" one of Darryl's hands is down his sleeping bag. However, Darryl knows the implications of that and how tough it is getting cum stains out of a sleeping bag! As he shimmied himself out, Darryl was a little bent out of shape, with Brett dissing him. Though, at the moment, he wasn't clocked in, didn't have on his deputy uniform and for all intensive reasoning, Brett hadn't broken any laws. It was wearing out though, what his cousin had told him, something about `ginger-guys sticking together.' A family full of redheads, he thought some of the male cousins, uncles, as good-looking as himself. Not a conceited vein in his being, Darryl just laughed about it, about his cousin ever saying such a thing. Even though he hadn't soiled up the insides of his sleeping bag, except for some light goo, probably from the sweet dream he had, the inside was a bit musty, mostly from sweat. Knowing exactly what to do, he walks over to a long branch and hangs it over it. Proud of himself, he dusts his hands off, like clapping. Before he can turn around, Darryl feels something poking him in the back, then words, "don't turn around or I'll pull the trigger!" Too curious, Darryl does in fact turn his head, saying, "what's this about?" "Didn't I say to not turn around?" It was a shame, Darryl was telling himself, that such a hot looking guy could be a criminal, which got him to thinking, "you don't have to do this. You've got a choice, you know?" "I know. You can turn around now." Soon as Darryl turns around, the dude drops the stick, grabs him by the back of the neck and harshly kisses his lips! Knowing this not the aggressor he thought, Darryl pushes the dude backwards, realizing his hands are touching bare flesh, "who are you?" If he felt his life was in peril, Darryl would have decked the guy, but didn't deem an intended kiss a deed worth putting a dude's hardware out of commission. "Ned. Ned Barklee. My uncle owns Karl's Cafe. Make a connection?" "I know Karl. Hey wait! You have a brother, Zack?" Darryl stands there, realizing his hardware is on display, cupping his balls. "Yeah, heard about Zack. He's some kind of hero, right?" "I would say so, finding a baby in the dumpster. Yup. He's a hero" Darryl makes a distorted face, "I've got to water the plants!" "Mind if I watch?" Darryl is quick to say, "you're sick!" It was a shame, some guy happened upon, has to be into that kinky shit! However, Darryl was wrong, taking his leak, Ned looking off into the distance, remarking how pretty everything looked, with the morning sun about to fully sit on the horizon, broken up by tree trunks. "Dean's gonna love it out here." "Dean?" Darryl questions, shakin' out the last drop. "Little brother, I don't blame him about not being interested in college. I mean, if you had parents were controlling, you would want to cut and run too." "Is that how it is?" Darryl asks, as they pass by the hanging sleeping bag. "Exactly where is it you boys are from?" "Back east." "I suspected so. I know my accents. Jersey?" It made Ned laugh, which made Darryl smile, "you `do' know your accents. Tenafly. Ever hear of it?" "Um, not really. Had a buddy from Hoboken. That near there?" "Not far," Ned replies. "I see you have your swimsuit on. Were you headed to the lake?" "Sort of," Ned says, in a way which might make a person think there's more to go on. "But before that, you saw me hanging my sleeping bag and thought you would have a fun little stickup with the naked guy?" "I have a confession to make." "Confession's good for the soul. Go ahead," Darryl looks around for the briefs he shucked last night. "I first saw you, sitting in your patrol car, when I drove my RV into town and then..." "Oh, so you were the one with that monster vehicle?" "That's me, but there's more. You see, when I found Uncle Karl's place, I asked him if he knew the cops on the local force. He said there's two. That's not really many, compared to where I'm from." Darryl, still debriefed, stand there, scratching his head, "well, you see, that there is the difference. Out in the sticks, there's less crime, except for maybe a couple of high school kids who can't mind their own business." He was, of course, talking about Brett and Bart! "If you want, I have a fresh pair in the RV?" Darryl wasn't paying much attention to himself, more figuring out Ned, "Fresh pair of what?" "Briefs. You know, to coverup what I know you already own?" "Oh, so you have checked me out?" A nervous laugh escaping, Ned says, "well, what do you expect, walking around like that?" In a forgiving manner, the ginger-cop says, "how far away is your RV parked?" "Oops," Ned replies, "Uncle Karl's parking lot. I hitched a ride down here from some girl. Nice person. Kira. She said she knows everyone." "I do, which unfortunately, sometimes I wish I hadn't!" Darryl makes light of it. "Oh, so I guess I don't have a pair of clean undies for you." "Never mind," Darryl turns in the direction of the lake, "we'll find a leaf if we have to. Let's have that swim, why don't we?" Darryl was all eyes now, watching Ned strip of his swimwear, "bad enough you lost yours. Don't want to lose these in the lake!" Now, there was something for Darryl to study, which is why he took the brunt of branches on the side trail flinging in his face. Being the leader to the lake, he couldn't quite lead the way, with Ned in front of him! % Copyright 2016 T. Chase McPhee "JoLLy RaNCHeRs" and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author, or you will be forced to your knees.