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Unlike my stories in Nifty's gay authoritarian section, this one has no scenes of discipline, only sex between a sixteen year old boy and a man in his mid-twenties
Other Nifty stories by PJ Franklin in the gay, authoritarian section:
Jesse: Nebraska Rancher's Son: nebraska-ranchers-son/
Twenty Minutes To Midnight: twenty-minutes-to-midnight/
Dog Star: dog-star/
My Sarg, His Son, The Lieutenant and Me: my-sarge-his-son-the-lieutenant-and-me.html
A Foresmark New Boy: foresmark-newboy.html
Presidential Executive Order #137099: presidential-executive-order.html
Go All The Way: go-all-the-way.html
Paying Back The Ranch Hand - Conclusion
There are two jobs I hated worse than slopping hogs even, one is mending fences and the other is working in the barn's upper hayloft. The first is hours of boring, seemingly endless work including getting nipped and scratched up by handling prickly barbed wire. As for the hayloft, on an already hot day outside, it is hotter than hell up there, sometimes a good twenty degrees or more than the floor of the barn. At times, Lance made both jobs a bit more tolerable.
A few weeks after Lance and I got sent to the city to do some equipment purchases for my pa, he told me to round up somebody to help mend broken fencing way out at the furthest part of the spread. I spent all of three seconds, if that, figuring which ranch hand that would be. Mama fixed us up a nice lunch in a basket as we'd be out there all morning and half the afternoon.
I guess by now Lance and I were some kind of secret lovers, what kind I wasn't sure. Lance told me he had kissed and screwed girls and liked it and now he liked kissing and screwing me. I didn't mind or care. I had kissed a girl a couple years before, but that was all. It was OK, but she wanted a lot more and I was not ready. I did ask him if I was as good as any girl he'd been with. I was just kidding really, but he grinned and nodded,
"Better'n just one. That gal was a real firecracker!" Lance teased me all the time like that; I liked it when Lance teased me.
Anyway, we drove out to the first fence that needed fixing and started in, him standing down a ways, a lit cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth, sweat already pouring off his forehead. I found myself imitating him. My cigarette was dangling out of the same corner of my mouth and when he stripped off his shirt when it got too hot, I did the same thing and stripped off my shirt.
Looking at him that way got me all worked up on account of his chest muscles and hairy chest. Then he would look over at my hairless chest, his look lingering a little. Oh, I had hair, but you just can't see blonde hairs like you can black ones. Then I would tease him back,
"Get back to work Burrows! Pa didn't send us out here for you to gawk at nothing! "
He would chuckle and shake his head a little, then get back to work. I have to admit, for such a strong man and prone to smoking and drinking his share of beer or whiskey when it came his way, Lance Burrows was not a loud or demanding guy as many were of my acquaintance. He was actually kind of quiet and thoughtful and never demanded anything from me, he didn't have too. It was me that did the demanding, just like now.
We were working away, or at least he was. I got too distracted after awhile. I was nursing a boner in my Wranglers and my head kept twisting to look at him working away, stripped to the waist, that black cowboy hat of his kind of tilted back just right and all … fuck! Finally, I stomped over to him,
"God dammit Burrows! I shoulda' picked somebody else to mend fences with, I can't even think with you standing half naked like this!"
"What!" he kind of smirked at me with this look of fake innocence on his face and turned around, taking the cigarette from his lips. I glared at him, dropped my cigarette into the dirt and smashed it with my boot heel. Then I pushed him back firmly to the fencing posts, got down on my knees in the dirt right at his cowboy boots and unzipped his fly. I looked up to him with a little scowling grin,
"Yea, like you don't know a damn thing, do you!" I said and he chuckled.
As I pulled his snake out of his pants, it wasn't hard like mine, not yet anyway. So I started to lick at his big ol' prickhead. He got plenty hard then, plenty quick too. I looked back up at him and putting his cigarette back in his mouth, put his hands aside my head said out of the corner of his mouth kind of rough,
"Smoke that pole boy!" and then took a long drag on that cigarette, blowing the smoke out the other side. I liked it when he talked a little bossy to me sometimes, not that I wouldn't have done it anyway.
I took my hands, grabbed at his hips and then started to bang that hard dick up against my tonsils.
"Ohhhyeaa, that's it, you hot cowpoke you!" he said, now one hand on a hip, the other fingering the cigarette and smoking away on it. The harder and deeper I sucked that prick down, the longer and harder his lips sucked on his cigarette.
He started to growl and tense up and I got myself ready. He grunted hard, "OHYEA!" and Lance flooded my mouth with his seed, lots of it too, just like always.
"Mighty fine, " Lance said with a low sigh and I stood up as he stuffed that monster of his back into his Wranglers. Then I unzipped my Wranglers and stepping forward, laid my lips on his. We kissed a long moment as one of his hands reached down to fist my hard prick, the other in back of my head, then when I was ready, he turned me around, pulled my body into his and pulled me off, my body shaking with delight, my prick spraying the dirt clods in front our work boots with my stuff.
I gave a satisfying shudder at the end, put myself back together, lit a new cigarette for myself and we continued on mending broken fence for the rest of the day.
* * * * * * * * * *
A few days later found me sent up into the barn hay loft to haul up and rearrange hay bales. The heat and humidity up there was fierce. I wasn't up there fifteen minutes before I heard somebody say, "You up there Stevie? It's Lance, you need some help?"
I grinned to myself, "Get your ass up here Burrows if you know what's good for you!" and in a few moments he was up there helping me move those heavy bales around a bit and hauled up new ones from the barn floor besides using the block and tackle rope pulley.
Once again, shirts were off and sweat was pouring off of us in that horrible heat and my mind was wandering to the few days before when we had been out fence mending and I sucked his dick off. Well, I wanted more from him this time, but waited until we got done with our work first.
"Whew! Hotter than hell up here!" Lance said, his hat long gone and he pulled off his work gloves.
"About to get hotter yet Burrows," and I pulled off my work gloves and kneeled at his boots then looked up with a smirk,
"I'm in the breeding mood!" and reaching up, unsnapped his Wranglers, unzipped the fly and pulled his jeans and boxers clear down to his knees. I helped him out of his boots and clothing and by now his prick was ready to go.
I stood back up and chucked off all of my own clothing. He picked up all of our clothing and layered it on top of a single bale and I climbed up on top on all fours, my ass sticking up right at the edge. Lance kneeled in back of me and did one of my favorite things and started a spit-sloppy tongue bath of my backdoor. He had me moaning and writhing about some, pushing my butthole into his face, him with a couple days growth of beard. I kind of liked that scratchy feeling on my ass sometimes.
I also loved the way Lance used his slippery wet mouth muscle and darted it in and out of my love tunnel, but soon I wanted something a lot bigger in there.
"You ready for a little animal husbandry?" I said looking back at him with a lustful grin. He poked his head up, a big wide grin on his face, "You got it cowpoke," and then he stood up,
"Turn over. I want more than just a fuck," and he helped me onto my back. My ankles were up on his shoulders in a few more seconds and his prick started to work inside my chute a few longer moments after that. Then he leaned way forward and I took my feet off of his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist, crossing my ankles behind him.
He pushed all the way in causing my body to tense, but he leaned over until I could feel a kind a sweaty steam off his chest and kissed me, one of his hands pumping away on my dick. It was a furnace in the loft, in my ass and in my mouth too. He wouldn't break the kiss as he pumped my dick and pounded my ass, slapping his big hairy balls up against my cheeks.
We shot our loads nearly at the same time, his breeding juice squirting way up inside of me, my stuff drenching his hand. Loose hay on the loft floor makes a nice way to soak up spent spunk and he used it. I just smiled and sighed and after he stood up, even the loft felt a little cooler for how much more heat we had made together. I was dying for a cigarette, so was he, but you don't smoke in a barn, ever. Well, unless it's a couple guys smoking their own sticks like we had!
I wasn't really all that surprised that Lance sat down with me today to tell me that he was moving on. He had finally saved up enough money to have bought his own small place a bit of distance from pa's spread. That's what most good ranch hands did over their years, saving up their money and moving on to do their own thing.
"I wish I could just go with you, " I said with a lump in my throat. He smiled and patted my back,
"Well, your place is here, but you can visit if you like."
His offer made me feel better. A few days later, he packed up his truck with his stuff and before he drove off, he took me around the side of the barn and we kissed one more time, "Take care Stevie, you're a good man."
I thanked him and watched his truck drive away.
I didn't get to visit Lance at his new place for another month, but when I finally did, I arrived late one morning. It was a small farm, but really nice. I knew I had expectations for my visit with Lance, but when he walked out to greet me with a woman on his arm, I realized that I needed to tuck my feelings back where they belonged.
The woman's name was Myra and she was really nice, too. I think she knew that Lance and I had been intimate, but she still treated me like I was a friend. Lance treated me like a valued friend too, but he gave me no sign that anything more would ever happen between us. I drove away a few hours later feeling a bit sorry for myself and that lasted for about a week before I finally let it go. I had learned a ton about myself from my time with Lance and I would be fine.
About a month after that, pa called me into the yard. There was an old truck there and a stranger standing beside it with my pa, a man who was dressed like a ranch hand. I gave a big sigh of recollection of that first day I had meant Lance months and months before. I walked up to the pair and looked at the man. He looked a lot younger than Lance; his hair was a light brown.
"Stevie, this is Wally Hagger. Ol' Lance Burrows sent him our way, said he didn't need a ranch hand, but maybe we did, so I just hired him. Why don't you help him stow his gear and show him around."
Wally held out his hand, "Call me Wally. Mr. Burrows told me to say 'hi,' to you, that you were a decent cowpoke," and then Wally gave me this little wink and I shook his hand and let my eye quickly scan him head to toes, "Stevie is fine."
Wally's handshake lasted just a little too long and on top of the word and the wink, told me all l needed to know. Thanks Lance. <smile>
© Copyright PJ Franklin August 4, 2009
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Last updated: August 4, 2009