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- Erik --
The trip to DC had been wonderful -- Gay Pride, playing tourist and of course finding out that Tracer and I could stop using condoms! Our return left us with little more than two weeks until the big Fourth of July celebration. Fortunately, preparations were moving along apace. This year the Fourth fell on a Sunday, so I expected the crowds would be smaller earlier in the day and then grow after the churches let out.
At the old Pittston place the picnic shelter had been set up on the site of the old house. The vendor had promised the picnic tables by the end of the week. I'd ordered six tables, each able to handle six people comfortably. I was still debating renting some extra tables for the celebration, but Tracer thought that thirty-six people eating or sitting in the area at one time would be about right.
After much debate, we'd ordered new inflatable play areas for this year's festivities. The double lane slide and thirty-foot obstacle course would arrive and be set up on Saturday. They, and the petting zoo, would go off to one side of the old barn, but not too far from the shelter.
My plan was to move a lot of the noise and excitement away from the house and, most importantly, away from the stable. Parking would be in the field in front of the house -- we would use the old flatbed trailer and a tractor to provide hayride shuttle service from one end of the farm to the other.
The horse rentals were nearly all booked for the day. In addition to basic riding periods, there would be two thirty-minute basics of horseback-riding classes during the day. The intent was to get folks comfortable before their rides. Ryan and Ezra would work with up to ten folks in the outdoor riding ring before leading them on a thirty-minute ride.
All of this planning went into the real purpose for the entire celebration -- building business. I wanted groups to think of us for events -- horseback-riding, picnics, team building, etc. I also wanted to make sure our beginners' classes would be full this coming fall.
Instead of fireworks, which I'd wanted from the start, we'd finally settled on a band. A local folk music group would start their first set at dinnertime, and then do a second set around sunset.
With his arm still healing, Will had taken over most of the office duties. Tracer and I had each spent time training him. He was sitting at the main desk when I walked in.
"Hey, Erik. What's up?" Will asked.
"Just checking on a few things. Has Jerry called about the grill?"
"I called his office an hour ago. The lady that answered told me the crew would be out today to start setting the stone. Her estimate is that the entire installation would be done by this Friday," Will said.
"Wonderful. We'll need propane tanks to run the grill once it is finished. Call around and see if you can find a place to get what we need. If all goes well, we can test out the grill this weekend."
"Erik, the lady told me that we'd need to get a larger tank, not the ones you get for a household grill. With eight sets of burners, that built-in grill will drain a standard tank far too quickly," Will explained. "She recommended a place to get the larger propane tanks. I have the size of the tank, so I'll call around this afternoon for comparison prices."
"Sounds good. You seem to have the situation under control," I replied. "Next topic. What time is your physical therapy today?"
"Noon. Tracer's going to drive me over. I'm hoping the doctor will let me start driving again after this next visit."
"Well, remember, all our trucks are stick-shift."
"That's why he's not letting me drive yet. I could drive an automatic, but the shifting is a bit much for my arm he says."
"Obey the doctor!" I chided. "You'll regret it if you start abusing that shoulder before it's ready."
"I know," Will sighed.
"OK. No more father-hen from me. You probably get enough of it from Ryan."
"Yeah," Will said with a grin.
"I'm going back out then, looks like you have everything under control."
I turned and left the office. As I walked out, I thought about Will's "Yeah." In talking with Ryan, I'd heard enough to know that though Ryan had promised not to be a `smother-mother' he was just barely keeping that promise.
I looked across the field and saw Ryan out in his practice field. He was determined to compete in the gay rodeo. To that end, he'd set up a practice area with two courses on the field. One course was for barrel racing, the other one for pole bending.
At the moment he was putting Lucky Lady through her paces. Rider and horse had to become one to compete successfully in pole bending, and riding a new mount had Ryan at a distinct disadvantage.
Ryan spurred Lady from the starting line straight along a line. As he reached the sixth, and last, pole they executed a tight one-eighty turn around it and started weaving between the poles back towards the first.
They weren't as graceful a team as they would need to be for competition. They had knocked over one pole by the time they made it back to the first pole and again executed a tight turn. The first pole rocked as Lady's body knocked into it, but it didn't fall. As they weaved in and out back along the course from pole one to pole six, Lady's rump knocked down two more poles. Finally, they executed the final tight one-eighty turn around the sixth pole and headed back to the finish line in a hard run.
While I watched, Hank walked up beside me.
"He's not really getting it, is he?" Hank asked.
"I think he'd be doing better on Empress," I replied. "Unfortunately, at twenty-three she's too old for competition."
"Yeah, hadn't thought of that. He's been riding her since he got here."
"Yup, he's only been riding Lady since we got back from DC."
While we talked, Ryan had reset the poles and run the course again. This time, as we watched Ryan and Lady's attempt, he knocked down two poles in the pattern and stopped. Dismounting, he set all the poles back in the line. He then remounted and trotted back to the starting line for another run.
"How does he think he's doing?" Hank asked.
"He's not happy with his times. Evidently, he searched different sites in the gay rodeo circuit and found some winning times. He's well behind those," I replied. "Worst of all, from his perspective, he's only got two months till the next competition."
"I don't envy you."
"Why me?" I was puzzled.
"Unless he realizes he can't make it, you're going to have to explain the facts of life to him."
"Ugh. Hadn't thought of it that way. Yeah, I guess I'm going to have to keep counseling him not to get his hopes up on this year. Probably not until he graduates college will he be able to practice enough to compete."
"Very true," Hank responded. "Well, back to work. I can't let the boss see me goofing off!"
As Hank walked off, I looked over at the practice field in time to see Ryan throw his hat to the ground. His `mad' was evident a mile away. He dismounted and put the poles back up.
I decided to tempt fate and walked over to them.
"You OK?" I asked.
"YEAH!" Ryan was obviously irritated. "Lady's just not getting it. Maybe I need to try another horse."
"Could be," I replied calmly. "Could be you two will take more time to become a team."
"She just doesn't follow my commands."
"Lady's a good horse. You've been riding Empress for almost twelve years. You two should be able to read each other's minds. It's going to take time till Lady can do the same."
"I know. I know. But I don't have a lot of time," Ryan answered forcefully.
"You have all the time in the world, Ryan. Don't set artificial goals you can't meet."
"DAD, I'm not a kid," he yelled at me.
"Then don't respond like one," I replied keeping my voice soft. I decided to choose my words very carefully as I went on. "Since you got home, you have been extremely focused on getting ready for this competition. That's very admirable. We all set goals that push us, but sometimes those goals aren't attainable. I'm just reminding you of that."
"OK," he said in a huff.
"Go back to practicing," I replied. "I'll leave you be."
With that I turned and walked off. Instead of heading to the stables, I decided to be a meddling father for a few minutes. Will looked a bit surprised when I walked back into the office.
"Got a personal question for you," I said to Will. "What do you honestly think of Ryan's attempts to get ready for the rodeo?"
I didn't need a verbal answer. The look on Will's face spoke volumes.
"Never mind," I continued.
"Honestly, it's annoying. But in the last year I've learned that once Ryan sinks his teeth into something, he's not going to let go until he decides to. No matter what you, me or anyone else says -- he's going to plan on making the rodeo `till he realizes he can't."
"You're just like your brother. Wise beyond your years -- at least sometimes."
"Thanks for the compliment," Will answered. "I think."
"I know I just ticked him off a bit," I admitted.
"Uh oh. Thanks for the warning."
"Well, this time I'm going straight to the stables and avoiding distractions. I promise."
I turned and walked out the door. I hadn't gotten twenty steps when I noticed Janet coming up the driveway. I stopped and waited for her to park.
"To what do we owe this honor?" I asked as she got out of the car.
"I'm meeting with Will."
"Huh?" I stuttered. "I mean, excuse me?"
"You did say that I should work with the hmmm... how did you put it -- `please work with the younger generation to get an accounting system on the PC at the office' -- as I recall," Janet answered.
"Me and my big mouth. I will have to learn to use this beast, I'm assuming."
"Yes, you will," she replied. "But my plan is to train Will, Ryan and Tracer, and then have them train you. I don't have the patience to try and train you."
"Funny," I replied with sarcasm dripping. "Seriously, I'd focus on Tracer since Will and Ryan leave for college in the fall."
"Well, I'm going to work with Will to get it up, running and all your data in it. He'll be the first `expert'. Then he and I will bring Tracer up to speed with the maintenance and operation of the software. Then someday we'll teach you." She said the last with a sly grin on her face.
"Mighty kind of you, Miss."
"Think nothing of it, Sir."
With that Janet took off towards the office, and I turned and walked to the stables. The interaction with Janet had pushed the rodeo situation with Ryan to the back of my mind. Now I was thinking about the new computerized accounting system and wondering if I could learn it. Fortunately, with Tracer taking on more responsibility in the office I could dump that task completely on his shoulders. I dumped both worries off a cliff in my mind and got back to what I loved -- tending horses.
That night while Tracer and I were snuggled up in bed, when he rolled over to face me. "What's wrong?" he asked. "You're stiff as a board, and not in a good way."
I chuckled a bit in response.
"Seriously, Erik. What's bothering you?"
"I thought I'd dumped the stress out of me earlier. Guess I haven't. It's Ryan's obsession with competing in the rodeo. He's so focused on it that he's slacking off on work, and acting grumpy because he realizes he's not going to make his goal."
Tracer repositioned himself so that he was seated more upright in the bed. "So what are you thinking of doing?"
"I guess I'll sit him down and talk to him about it."
"Mind some advice from his Step-Dad?"
"No, insights are always welcome," I replied.
"First, lay off the comments, the questions or anything to do with the rodeo. Second, if he's not doing his job -- tell him. If Hank or Ezra slacked off, you'd find out what's bugging them. But you already know what's bugging Ryan."
I started to respond.
"Hold on a second, let me finish," Tracer continued. "He gets paid for the job and got in a huff when you told him to stop working at the end of the school year. If he doesn't want to work so he can focus on the rodeo, that's his choice. But it's one or the other. Finally, he's a big boy. He'll be eighteen in a few more weeks; if he wants to try, let him. Fail or succeed, it's all on his shoulders. Actually, one more thing. The rodeo is after school starts. He's going to be too busy by the time it comes around."
"Like I told your brother earlier -- you are wise beyond your years," I complimented.
"Not really, I'm just closer in age to Ryan. So I can put myself in his shoes and look at it. I know how I'd respond if my parents started ragging on me about something I wanted to do."
"I can't see you doing something like this."
"I'm a different guy, true. But on the right topic..." Tracer trailed off. "So, Mr. Stiffy, roll over onto your stomach and I'll rub your back."
"That sounds like an offer I can't refuse."
Tracer's hands felt really good rubbing up and down my spine. He had straddled my back and started to really dig into the knots in my neck and shoulders.
"I'll have to get you to do this more often," I mumbled.
He worked his hands up and down my back in long strokes that dug in just deep enough to ease the tension.
After a few more minutes of his manipulation, I felt his dick poking against my butt cheeks.
"Feels like I'm not the only `Mr. Stiffy' in this bed."
"Hehehe, very true."
As Tracer continued to rub my back with his hands, he started humping my body with his dick. His hands worked lower and lower, finally massaging my butt. He worked my butt muscles good, paused for a moment then spread them apart a bit.
"Oh, fuck," I moaned into the pillow, as I felt Tracer's tongue invade my ass crack.
His tongue darted around my ass trench. Periodically he let it slip into my hole, eliciting a deep groan from me. To me, Tracer was an expert at rimming!
As I felt Tracer push his tongue into my hole, I pushed back -- helping him go much deeper. With this effort, my ass really started to open and his tongue kept slipping in deeper.
I felt a bit of Tracer's spit running down my crack and onto the back of my balls. Tracer must have noticed it, because moments later I felt his tongue work from my balls back to my ass trench.
Tracer's tongue abandoned my ass, and that's truly how it felt -- abandoned.
"Time for more fun," Tracer said.
"Yeah, I think you're right. Let's try you fucking me again."
"Lube up your dick and put it in me nice and slow, Baby. I don't want to waste this opportunity -- all that tongue work and spit has me opened up good."
"You sure?" Tracer sounded doubtful.
"Yeah," I replied. I started wiggling my ass back against him. "Do it!"
Tracer reached over and grabbed the lube out of the nightstand. A moment later a chill ran up my spine as he worked a lubed finger into my ass. He worked the finger in and out a bit and then I felt more.
"What's that?" I asked. My voice a bit muffled as my face was in the pillow.
"Two fingers," he answered.
He worked them around a while and then I felt more again.
"Three fingers," he indicated.
My hole felt good as his three fingers slid in and out.
"Ready?" Tracer asked. "You seem opened up pretty good."
"You're the driver," I responded.
I felt the head of Tracer's dick up against my hole.
"Don't tense up," Tracer urged. "Push back as I push in."
As I pushed back, the head of his dick popped in.
"Oh, FUCK!" I moaned.
"Does it hurt?"
"Yeah, but I'll get over it. Stay right where you are for a minute."
Tracer held still a few minutes. Then he started gently rocking, his dick not moving in any deeper -- just working around at a consistent depth.
"More," I said quietly.
Tracer started pushing down, his dick slipping into me very slowly.
"More," I repeated.
"I'm giving you more!"
Suddenly, I felt Tracer's pubic hair rubbing against my ass cheeks. Tracer leaned his head down, close to my ear.
"I'm in all the way," he reported.
"Stay there a moment or two."
Tracer held still for a short while. As things got more comfortable, I started moving my ass around a bit.
"Ready for more?" he asked.
"Yeah. Fuck me."
With that, Tracer started pulling his dick out -- not all the way - but almost. After reaching the point where the head of his dick was all that remained in my ass -- then he started pushing back in. He built up a nice rhythm of slow, long strokes.
"How you feeling?"
"OK. I'm getting used to it," I replied.
"Exactly," I responded.
Tracer continued his slow fuck. His pace didn't vary much and he never pulled all the way out.
"You're not enjoying this, are you?" I asked. He'd been fucking me about five minutes in total.
"I told you before; I'm a bottom. I love getting fucked!"
"Well maybe you should!" I answered.
"I should what?"
"Get fucked. Pull out and flip over. I'm gonna plow you deep."
Tracer pulled out and lay next to me on the bed. He reached down and put his hands under his knees, pulling them up and exposing his ass.
I grabbed the bottle of lube and slicked up my dick. I took the bottle and placed it against Tracer's hole, squirting some directly on it. I put my lubed-up dick against his rosebud and started pushing in.
"Aw, fuck yeah!" Tracer moaned.
My dick slipped in all the way, my pubes rubbing against his balls. Buried in his ass, I started working my dick around poking and rubbing.
"Damn, your dick feels good! So fucking good!"
"I love your hole, tight, wet and ready for a fuck."
With that, I pulled all the way out and then pushed right back in. I started a long dicking of Tracer's ass. Plunging all the way in and then pulling all the way back out.
"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!" Tracer groaned. "Fuck me hard, Erik!"
I grabbed hold of his legs as I pushed back in, then I started a series of rabbit-quick fucks in his hole. The head of my dick battered his prostate.
"Oh, Damn. Oh, DAMN," he panted. "I'm gonna cum if you keep that up."
I redoubled my efforts. My dick worked against his fuck nut, rubbing and rubbing more.
My efforts were rewarded -- Tracer's dick shot cum across his chest. As his cum sprayed, his ass spasmed around my dick.
"FUCK," I yelled as I shot my load up in his ass.
I collapsed on top of Tracer, my dick still deep in his ass. I leaned forward a bit and kissed him gently on the lips.
"So, did you enjoy getting fucked?" Tracer asked as we broke the kiss.
"It was, OK," I answered. "I know you're not big into fucking."
"Naw, not really, but I can do it if you really want it."
"Well, maybe once in a blue moon to scratch an itch," I admitted.
We pulled apart and quickly cleaned up.
"No more Mr. Stiffy?" Tracer asked as we snuggled up together in bed.
"Well, not down there." I drifted off into a deep sleep.
The next morning, I woke with a fresh attitude. Hopefully, it would lead to less stress.
Two days later, Will stopped me as I was passing through the office.
"Erik, do you have a few minutes?" Will asked.
"Sure. What's up?"
"Janet installed the new accounting software and I need to talk to you about some of the details. Also, I think that the computer running the software needs to be replaced or upgraded."
"Will, I'm pretty clueless when it comes to computers. Remember, I was in college when IBM launched the first PC. It wasn't something I had a lot of opportunity to learn."
"Didn't you use a computer in your job before y'all moved to the farm?"
"Not really. I was in sales. I went out, met the customer, convinced them to buy our product, returned to the office and turned the invoices over to someone in accounting. They took care of the computer work."
"Do you surf on the Internet?" Will asked.
"Again, not really. The only site I spend much time on is the American Quarter Horse Association."
"What do you do on that site?"
"All the things related to breeding horses - register foals, transfer horses, check pedigree records. They have classifieds where I find a horse now and then -- mostly for the rental business."
"A horse from a classified?" he asked.
"You'd be surprised how many people buy a horse and then realize the amount of work involved. Then they get the farm boarding their horse to sell it for them. Fastest way is to post it on the AQHA web site."
"Gotcha," he replied. "OK. Let's start with the basics. The computer we use in the office is old and needs an upgrade. It meets the minimum specifications for the software, but it's going to be painfully slow running it, I can already tell."
"Fine, pick out a computer with what we need and buy it. Ryan, Tracer and I all have access to the corporate credit card, so any of us can pay for it," I answered. "Next issue?"
We got into the fine details of ensuring that Will and Janet were setting up the accounts and financial data in a manner I could work with. Since Janet was running the set up - as she had with our overall accounting for years -- it all fit perfectly.
"It sounds to me like the two of you have this well in hand. Janet runs the accounting, I just push the paper and fill in paper to send to her. This way, I won't do paper and, from what you say, I can transmit the data to her as needed."
We finished up the last details and I continued on my way to the stables -- too damn many chores in one day!
Copyright 2008 BndgDawg (BndgDawg@gmail.com). Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
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This is Chapter Twenty Four of Double Trails. I hope everyone enjoys reading the story as much as I enjoy writing it. I look forward to positive comments, constructive criticisms and otherwise pleasantly worded feedback. Questions about the story are also welcome! I try to answer every e-mail I receive. Flames and attacks will be ignored and the sender's address blocked. Write me at BndgDawg@gmail.com
Thanks to Rock and Chael for all their comments, feedback and most importantly all the editing. Their skill and effort have polished this story greatly.