DISCLAIMER: WARNING!!  This is a work of homoerotic fiction written by an adult for the purpose of entertaining other adults. If you are not eighteen years of age or you have any problem with this type of literature then this is a warning to read no further. The author will not be held responsible for any reason if you choose to disregard this disclaimer.

(Codes: M/M M/b M/t Gay Incest Anal Oral )

If you enjoy this story please remember to support www.nifty.org  with your generous contributions.

Copyright 2004/2005 ~ Waddie Greywolf
Comments/Questions: waddiebear@yahoo.com
Visit: http://www.asstr.org/~Waddie_Greywolf


By Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 1 ~

Vincent & Casey Longhorn ~

“Why, the Hell, would you even consider such a thing? Goddamn it, Son,— sometimes, I just don’t understand you a’tall!   Shit, boy!  You be think’n like a crazy man; almost as crazy as that looney old coot you wanna’ meet up with!  All you’ll be doin’ is openin’ up a can a’ worms what’ll come back to haunt you, and take a big chomp out a’ your ass. Trust me,— no good will come of it, and it could mean a world of hurt for you’n me both!  Mark my words,— you just wait’n see, buckaroo!  

And,— if’n he hurts you half as bad as he did me, I’m gonna’ wanna’ go an’ kill the son of a bitch! If the good Lord can forgive me for kill’n Charlie in Nam, he’ll shore’ as Hell forgive me for re-tire’n his tired old ass a little early!   However, society may not, and then you’d have ta’ come visit your old man on death row in prison.  Would ja’ like that?

I just smiled at him and slowly shook my head, ‘no.’

Damn it all to Hell, Casey,—  I wish’t I’d a’ never told ‘ju ‘bout that worthless old curmudgeon!  I should a’ just told ju’ he died! He ain’t no damn good, no how!  That old hardheaded bastard,— he ain’t never gonna’ change his way a’ think’n! He’s got his hypocritical head so far up Jesus’s butt he couldn’t see the light of God Almighty if’n he was stand’n in two buckets full of it up to his boot tops and Jesus took a fart!” shouted my dad to me as he slammed his hands down on the arms of  his wheelchair.

I tried hard not to laugh.  God knows I tried ‘cause I knew how serious he was, so I remained silent out of respect for my old man; however, inside I was laughing my ass off at his outburst of anger. Dad always could find the most colorful words to make his point when he was venting anger.

“It’s all right, Dad,— no, really,—  it’s okay! Don’t feel like ya’ haf’ta hold back none!  Lemme’ know how you really feel.”  I joked with him and at least got a smile out of him.
“Fuck you,— you asshole! I’m dead serious about this, cowboy, and you know it!”   he couldn’t help but chuckle, “‘Sides,— I done raised  ju’ up better’n ‘nat!  Some things in life you just have to accept as they are!  Y’ain’t never gonna’ change that old fart!  What da’ ya’ think?  Ya’ gonna’ waltz up to him, stick out chur’ hand and say, ‘Howdy, Granddad!  I’m Casey, your only grandkid you never knew about.  Oh, yeah,— and, by the way,— I’m a cocksucker!?’”

“I just ain’t a’ gonna’ tell ‘em.”  I replied, “I ain’t gonna’ tell him nothing ‘bout me.  Tell me,— how’s he gonna’ know I’m even related to him?  You done went and had our name changed before I was born; even before you’s shipped to Nam.  I don’t carry his name."

“Listen to me, cowboy! My old man may be a lot of things, but he shore' as Hell ain’t stupid. All it ‘ud take is for him to look into them damn violet eyes of your’n to know some-um ain’t kosher in Denmark.  He give you them violet eyes.  Runs in the Langtry family.  I didn’t get ‘um but your Uncle Seth had ‘em just like our dad!  So’d yore’ Great-aunt Lillie. Your Great-granddad was her brother. Now, you tell me,— how many cowboys you run into out there what got violet eyes?”

“So, it’s a coincidence.” I tossed off. My dad responded with a snort. He wasn’t buying it.
"Look, Dad, I know the whole story. You told it to me about a hunner’t times.  How you got momma pregnant with me when you’n her was only sixteen. Then, after granddad caught chu’ and Bubba Swanzey  suck’n each others dicks in the barn he kicked you out.  You joined the Marines and got sent to Nam.  He got so angry at you he kicked you out of his life, but  nobody can stay angry forever, Dad.  It takes a Hell of a lot more energy to be angry with someone than to forgive. ‘Sides that, you married momma  a‘for you went to Nam and granddad and grandma had you when they was only sixteen.  Two years later they had Uncle Seth.

After Granddad cut you out of his life, you got pissed at him and cut him off completely when you went and changed our name. How do you know he ain’t felt bad about what he done to ya’ and tried to contact you?  How could he?  He don’t know our name. Your younger brother, my Uncle Seth, went an’ got hisself  killed in Nam.  Granddad’s gotta’ be a lonely old man. I’m twenty-one so he’s gotta’ be fifty-three.  That’s pretty damn old! He might not live a lot longer.  I might not have another chance.  Look, Dad,— I just wanna’ meet him, be around him for a while, get to know him, see what kind of man he is, and judge for myself.  He don’t haf’ta know who I am.”

“Oh, bullshit!  Who you think you’re talk’n to, boy? You never could keep no damn secrets.  Them folks you tell it to can’t neither!”  Dad laughed at me. “You tried for years to keep it from me you had a hitch in your get-a-long; you liked rodeoing with the boys a little bit better’n the girls.  Hell, I done know’d it from the time I come back from Nam my boy was gonna’ like his vice, versa!  Didn’t make me no never mind, but your momma and I talked about it.

She know’d it a’for I did.  Mother’s know that sort of thing about their sons. She just figured you was chip off the old block.  Hell fire, I guess it was me what give ya’ the damn gene. I won’t deny I shore found ole Bubba’s dick mighty tasty. Yore’ momma knew about that, too. Ain’t too much you can hide from folks in a small West Texas town.  She didn’t care, but I never had nothing to do with another man after I came back from Nam. I was faithful to your mom, Son.

I remember the first night you sucked my dick after yore’ momma died.  You was feeling scared and all alone, so you asked to sleep with me a couple of nights. You done thought I was asleep one night, but I was a’ playing possum to see what you’d do. After driving me nuts for more’n an hour lick’n and a’ suck’n on my balls you finally decided to get down to the main course and wrapped chur’ pretty little lips around my stiff dick. Thought I was gonna’ pass out for sure.

T’was like them pearly gates parted for me and I passed on through.  Surprised the Hell out a’ me! For a kid, so young, you weren’t too damn shabby neither!  Got me old cock off quicker’n shit through a goose!  Swallowed ever’ bit a’ my cowboy spunk right down like a pro.  I was right proud of ya, boy. I done figured if my boy was gonna’ like to suck a man’s dick, I didn’t never want him being called no lousy Goddamn cocksucker!” I cringed at dad’s candor, he took a sideways glance at me and chuckled.  "Over the years, you’ve gotten a Hell of a lot better; you’ve only improved and to be honest with ya,’ boy, I don’t know’s your old man can give you up that long to go rodeoing after a dream that may never come true.  ‘Sides that, you're gonna’ miss your old man’s warm mouth wrapped around your big, fine taste’n cowboy dick and knock’n on your pretty little back door during the middle of a long winter’s night.”

Dad shifted in his chair and laughed at my uneasiness. Then, he grinned at me with his patented West Texas shit-eating grin, winked and I knew the next words out of his pie hole would be pure, unadulterated bullshit.

“Side’s, you’s the one what done turned your poor old man into a full blown, gin-U-wine, gold plated, butt-fuck’n faggot! Now, you’s gonna’ go running off to ride the circuit and take away from me the warmest mouth and tightest little asshole I ever did fall asleep in. Thanks, one whole Hell of a lot, buckaroo, for think’n ‘bout chur’ dear old dad!  You done went and created this monster; now, you wanna’ lock him in his cage and have the neighbors feed him while you go play cowboy? I don’t think so!” Dad tried like Hell to keep a straight face; however, when he glanced up at me to see if I was buying any of it, he broke out and roared with laughter.

“Ah, fuck, Casey!  You know how much I love ya!’ God as my witness, boy, I loved yore’ momma; however, in many ways, you be the one what done taught me what love is all about. I won’t never deny that.  I know you would love to meet your grandpa. If he were different I would be the first to take you by the hand  to meet him; but, he ain’t! We don’t need that old bastard in our lives, Son.  He’s nothing but trouble. He’s tomorrow’s bad news come early. I’m just so damn proud of who you are today and what we mean to each other, I’m afear’d of losing it and you, Son.”
 Underneath his bullshit, I knew my old man had genuine concerns, was frightened for us, and he was hurting.

“Come go with me, Dad.  I’d love to have you along. There’s plenty of room in the new motorcoach I bought last fall.  Let’s hire someone to run the ranch. Come rodeo with me, Dad.  You’n me, we’s partners, Dad. Together, ain’t nobody what can beat us with a rope.  We done won ever’ damn rope’n competition in the western states, ‘cep’n Texas.  I understand why y’ain’t never wanted to ride in Texas. That’s okay, but I wanna’ try my hand on the circuit, pa.  Grow a beard, Dad.  On a slim chance we should run into granddad, he wouldn’t recognize you today.  With you as my partner we could go all the way, Dad.  We may not have another chance.

You get around on them store bought legs of yours real good.  Don’t nobody even know you had your legs blown off in Nam.  Hell, I ain’t never seen me no sexier walk than you got when you wear them legs what’s got your big, cowboy boots attached to ‘em.  You walk, for all the world, like any other genuine buckaroo on the circuit.  Can’t nobody tell. The only time you use that damn wheelchair is when we’re home relaxing.”  I grinned at him, “I always did kind a’ like you in that chair ‘cause you can’t get away from me when I got me the honggries for some good, hot cowboy dick.”  I roared with laughter as my old man waggled a finger at me and raised an eyebrow in mock disgust. “Hell, it was you what taught me to rope and ride, Dad.  You ride as good as I do with them artificial legs.  You taught me to be a champion, Dad?  Something I couldn’t a’ learnt from nobody but a champion.”  
My dad looked at me with the greatest love in his eyes, blinked back a tear, and hung his head.

“I ain’t half the man you are, Son.”  He said softly.

“What the Hell you talk’n about, old man?  When I’m a’ laying out, underneath you, you’re up on them stubs with that big, buckaroo dick a’ yours sunk six fathoms deeper in my ass than the Titanic lays on the ocean bottom,  just a’ fuck’n  me like an untamed bronc with a burr under its saddle, you shore be a’ fool’n me you ain’t half the man I am!  My old man’s the only man who ever fucked me so good I stay fucked  maybe four to six days afterwards.  I’ve marked ‘em off on a calendar.  Ever’ morning I get up, look at myself in the mirror, and if’n I’s still got that silly fuck’n smile on my face, I know I’m good for another day or two. After my dad fucks me,— I know’d I been fucked by a man; my old man; the best old man a buckaroo could have!”

That got him laughing again as I went to him and grabbed me a big ole handful of cowboy-dad dick through his Wranglers.  He whooped like he was about to be scalped.

“Get away from me you pre-vert!” he yelled in laughter, “You ain’t a’ gettin’ no in-between meal snacks, neither!  Spoil your dinner! When you come sniff’n ‘round after my dick, I better hear me some heartfelt begging about how you’s got yoreself some powerful honggries for a taste of the sweetest cowboy dick you ever had melt in your mouth.  I shore as Hell don’t know about all that other nonsense you been talk’n ‘bout, but I know fer damn sure you inherited another one a’ my genes.”

“Yeah,— what’s that, old man?”

“The bullshit gene!”  He roared with laughter. “Damn!” he continued, “I think you got a double dose of it, Son!  What don’t come out chur’ ass, comes out your mouth!”

"There again, old man, I learn't it from a champion!" I retorted.

We were both laughing so hard I got the hiccups.  I couldn’t stop.

“Champion, my ass! I got chore' champion!" he grinned as he grabbed his big cowboy dick though his Wranglers.  "Com’mer, boy!  I's got just the cure for them hiccups.”

I moved in front of his wheelchair still hiccuping.

“On yer’ knees, asshole!”  He ordered me.

I love it when my dad talks dirty to me and orders me about.  He grabbed me by the back of my head and roughly pulled my face into him until my nose was buried deep into his crotch. I could only smell his masculine odors and his massive cock hidden beneath the denim of  his Wranglers.

“Breathe deeply, boy!” He barked at me. “That’s the smell of the man what loves you!  You think about how much you wanna’ please your old man; think about how far down that tight little cowboy throat of yours you’re gonna’ take your old man’s dick tonight; think about his cock being the sacred tool what created you, boy, and I guaran-damn-tee ya,’ them hiccups will vanish.”

I took in several deep breaths of my dad’s signature masculine smell. Dad never used perfumed soaps or deodorants of any kind, but he would sometimes use his favorite Aqua Velva after shave; nevertheless, he always had a clean, virile, deep musky odor about him that would drive me crazy even when he simply passed by me and I’d get just the faintest whiff of him.  Damned if he wasn’t right.  Sure enough, ‘them’ hiccups vanished.

* * * * * * *

If you haven’t gotten the message by now, my dad was my personal hero.  He was a simple man of the Earth who found himself in a world in transition between good and evil.  He did his best at what he could do to make change, but he stood fast in the face of wrong.  He wouldn’t allow the insidious evil or oppression of his personal freedoms under the name of false, misplaced, abusive religious piety, or unholy, self-serving righteousness, to sway him from his deeper beliefs in love.  He gave his all for his country and never began to question until after he’d done what he saw as his duty.

My Uncle Seth followed his beloved brother and joined the Marines. I never met Uncle Seth.  He was killed his second week in Nam; a week after I was born.  His old man, my granddad,  let his youngest son march to his death without ever telling him he loved him. A year later, a land mine blew my dad’s legs off at the knees and he returned a hero.  Dad was awarded several purple hearts and a bronze star for heroism.  Even though his legs were blown off he was the platoon leader and  managed to pull himself to others more wounded than himself to offer help and comfort. Since dad changed his name before he left, my granddad never knew.

He returned to the States and the VA fitted him with two artificial legs he learned to use almost as well as his real ones.  He taught himself to walk with little or no noticeable affectation to his stride.  He learned he could still ride a pony and once again took up the passion of his youth: team roping. Through the G.I. bill he went to a community college and learned how to become a successful rancher.  Again, through the G.I. bill, he financed a small ranch. Even though dad and my mother worked for the first several years at other jobs they were soon able to quit and run the ranch full time.  We lived on the ranch outside of San Diego for most of my life. Dad and I are still living there.

My mom got cancer and died when I was fourteen.  It was a blow for both dad and me.  I had all ready begun to go through puberty and quickly realized no one could ever top the sexual fascination I developed for my dad.  I would jack off two or three times a day thinking about all the wonderfully nasty things I could do with him if I had the chance. The fact he had his legs cut off at the knees never entered my mind.  He was always that way as long as I could remember.  He was my dad and he kept his body in top physical condition. He neither smoked nor drank and ranch work was a lot of hard, physical work most of the time.

My dad was a tall, six foot four, lean, strong, masculine cowboy.  He loved the idea of being a Western man and he worked hard to perfect the image.  For me, he became the epitome of what a cowboy rancher should look and act like.  He was good hearted, generous to a fault, and tried to help his neighbors when he could.  He was always truthful with me and treated me as a beloved companion rather than strictly as a son.

One night, about a month after my mom passed away, I couldn’t sleep.  I would cry myself to sleep, but I didn’t want my dad to know.  I wanted to be strong for him.  I knew his heart was broken and if it hadn’t have been for me, I think he would’ve given up.  He knew he had to keep going for me. I woke up and found my pillow and bed around my head was soaking wet.  I knew I’d cried a little before I went to sleep but not enough to soak my pillow and upper portion of my mattress.

A horrible thought crossed my mind; did I wet the bed?  But, I couldn’t have, could I? It wasn’t wet around my waist and even though my dad taught me to sleep in the raw my dick wouldn’t be able to piss so high it soaked my pillow.  I was baffled.  I was also a little frightened.  I didn’t know what was going on and I never felt more alone in my life.  I got up from my bed and slowly walked to my dad’s room.

He always left his door open so he could hear me call out to him in the night if I was frightened or needed him for anything.  It was a full moon lit night and I could see everything in the room clearly.  I  quietly walked up to his bed and stood there silently as I watched him sleep. It was a warm summer night and he was sleeping in the raw with no sheet or cover over him.

He was laying on his back breathing softly.  His enormous dick lay up and to the left of his stomach and his huge balls hung loosely between his massive thighs.  I could see the two stumps of his legs stopping at just below his knees.  It didn’t bother me his legs weren’t normal.  He was my dad.  He was perfect like he was.  I stood for the longest time marveling at his beauty.

He didn’t shave as much as when mom was alive. Since it was only the two of us and a couple of ranch hands he’d go several days without shaving and began to look pretty scruffy after a while.  He would usually shave once or twice a week.  He said it saved him time. I thought his several days worth of beard made him so virile looking he would keep my dick hard for days until he shaved.

My dad was beyond gorgeous.  He was a God to me. I would’ve worshiped at his feet,— and, over the years, have done so many times. As I was standing there I knew my feelings for him were overwhelming all my senses.  I could even smell his clean masculine odor and my dick began to get hard.  The longer I stood there the harder it got.  I had to play with myself.  This was too sensual to be able to privately look upon my personal God and have such an erotic moment without manipulating myself.  I began to slowly jack myself off and really wasn’t paying much attention to dad.  I threw back my head and was really getting into my fantasies of him and me together while only allowing myself to glance upon the beauty of my God enough to trigger another wave of sexual excitement through my body.  Finally I allowed myself one good look of  drinking all of him in, when I got a shock.  Dad was laying on his side propped up on his elbow watching me.  He was smiling at me.

“Casey?”  He asked softly with concern in his voice.  “You all right, Son?”

I stopped playing with myself immediately and ran from the room in embarrassment.  I flew to my bed in tears and lay there crying my heart out.  Dad had a way of whistling real loud using two of his fingers when he wanted me for something.  He taught me never to ignore his whistle.  It was a signal for me to come to him immediately in case he needed me in an emergency.  I was deep into my pillow when I heard his whistle.  My first thought was he tried to get to his wheelchair, fell to the floor and couldn’t get up. No matter how embarrassed I was or how much I was hurting that was our signal my dad needed me. I hit the floor on a run for his room, ran through the door and over to his bed.  He was still laying there, but he was holding his arms out to me.

I didn’t hesitate; I was in his big arms in a minute crying my heart out again as he stroked and petted me to calm me.  For some reason I knew I was safe in his arms and I didn’t really have to say a word, he understood.  However, after he got me settled down he began to ask me a few questions.  He looked down at my crotch and smiled.

“Nice big dick ya’ got there, youngster. Hell, Son, I weren't near that big at your age.  I do declare, you're gonna' be bigger'n me or my brother.  I think you inherited that from your granddad.”  He complimented me.  I didn’t respond.  He kept stealing kisses from me; kissing me behind my ear and on my neck.

“You know you just paid your old man the sweetest compliment a son could give his dad?”

“No, sir.”  I answered meekly.

“Well, ya’ did.  I woke up and found my beautiful cowboy standing by my bed with a fistful of his big, buckaroo dick playing with hisself while he admired his dad.”

“I’m sorry, Dad." I was quick to explain, "I was scared in my room.  Something’s happening to my body I’m afraid of and I came in here to talk to you about it; maybe, ask you to let me sleep with you the rest of the night. But, when I got in here, I saw you was asleep and,— you just looked,— so,— ” I started crying again and he stole some more kisses to calm me.

“Let’s understand one thing between us, okay?”  He asked rhetorically. I knew there was more to come, “Don’t chu’ never feel embarrassed or upset over your feelings for another person; especially, your old man.  What you were doing a while ago was a response to an honest feeling you were having about your dad and there ain’t nothing wrong with that; it’s nothing to be ashamed of.  Now, the next thing,— can you tell me what’s going on with your body that’s making you afraid.”

“I haven’t told you, Dad, but since mom died I cry myself to sleep almost every night; however, lately I’ll wake up and my pillow and all around my head will be soaked.  I don’t mean just wet, I mean water logged, soaked!  I’m afraid because I thought I was wetting my bed, Dad, but it ain’t down around my waist or the middle of my bed. I haven’t told you ‘cause I get up in the mornings, strip my bed, and wash everything including my pillow and then dry them.  Everything’s ready for the next night; but, damn it, Dad, it’s happening more and more often and I’m getting tired of having to change my sheets ever’ damn day.”

Dad didn’t say anything for a minute, like he was thinking. He just held me close and stole another couple of kisses.

“Know what, cowboy?”

“What, Dad?”

“I think I know what’s wrong, but I think your idea of bunk’n it in with me for a couple of nights is a good idea.”

“What da’ ya’ think's wrong with me, Dad.”

“I don’t wanna’ say what I'm think right now; but, I will tell you this, Son, I’ve cried myself to sleep many nights. Ain’t nothing wrong with crying when you miss someone.  Don’t mean you’re weak or you ain’t got control of yourself.  It’s just you’re still grieving for your ma, boy.  So am I, for that matter. It’s probably gonna’ take us longer than either of us thought.  I can look at you sometimes and know you’re thinking about her. I know the way you look at me, now and then, you know I’m a’ think’n ‘bout her, too. That’s part of grieving, Son.  It’s part of life.  It’s part of learning to let go.  We have to let go, Casey, we ain’t got much choice in the matter; however, yore’ mom wouldn’t want either one of us going on grieving too long for her. Know’n and love’n yore’ ma like I done, I know’d she’d want us to go on with our lives and take her love and memory with us. In a way, I guess I’m a little more fortunate than you, Son.”

“How’s that, pa?”

“After I planted my seed in her, she carried you in her body for nine months; then, when she had you, she gave me the greatest gift a man could ever receive; she gave me you, Son. You’re a part of her, but you’re a part of me, as well. You came from her body and, in effect, I still have a part of her to help me let go. I have to go on to make sure that part of her is okay and grows into a fine young man.

 I’ve heard you crying, sometimes way into the night, but I didn’t know if I should come to you or not. You ain't said much to me since your ma died.  I thought you was working things out on your own.  I didn't wanna' push and make things worse.  Glad ju' come to me, though.  It's always important you do, Son, when ya' ain't sure 'bout something. However bad you might think it is, your old man ain't never gonna' turn you away.  

Somehow, I’m a’ think’n this is God’s way of telling us we need each other,  we need to stop being so damned macho independent, and lean on one another a little more.  After all, we’re all we got now, pardner.  So, get yourself comfortable over there next to me, and when I think I'm sure I have an idea what's wrong with you, you’ll be the first to know, okay?”

“Okay, dad.  Dad?”

“Yes, Son?”


“S’what I’m here for, buckaroo. I love you, Casey.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

End of Chapter 1 ~ Texas Longhorns
Copyright 2004/2005 ~ Waddie Greywolf
All rights reserved ~
Mail to: waddiebear@yahoo.com