Date: Sun, 14 Aug 2016 17:53:59 +0000 From: TCHASE MCPHEE Subject: ?JoLLy RaNCHeRs? 18 % This work of fiction is set in the format of real-world situations. Identifying details to real people, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental in nature. % 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 laws and conscience. The pages of this story contain `adult material', intended for an `adult audience.' Bypass this warning at your own risk! % 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. % 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 % "JoLLy RaNCHeRs" 18 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee ^ 0 ^ % % Since being put in charge of accounting, Shane's job at Post & Beam Lumber was finished. He also tired of waiting in line to spend his load. Resting a hard shaft on the palm of his hand, Shane went the rounds 3 times, badgering Marco to take care of business, to either wind up the fucking or pull out of Wyatt's ass canal and give him a chance. So, after Marco telling him to `fuck off,' Shane did just that, pocketing, or rather stuffing his cock and balls back in crammed space, zipping up and getting out of the place, with an annoyed attitude, "well, fuck you too, Marco!" If he were holding the purse strings, Shane not dependent on Marco for his job, maybe he'd take matters into his own hands. Grumbling over it, Shane could have jerked himself off, but knew there would be time for that later. Then suddenly, the dark cloud hanging over his head lifted. When he took the job as accountant, for an out-of-towner, Shane knew he would need to start all over, from the ground up, filling in the blank registering of his cell phone. Growing up in Basking Ridge, New Jersey, he had New York City as his playground and being a leather-top, he made many friends! Even though it wasn't his job, when Marco hired him, he put it upon himself to check out the files of every employee who was hired. Sitting in his office one day, flipping through folders, he didn't have certain info, like `size', but age and appearance was enough of a guide to type certain names and cell numbers into the memory banks of his phone. Thinking on that, while driving to the hospital, Shane pictured Marco, hanging over Wyatt's ass, dismissing it, "gonna have plenty of men to choose from, so fuck you, Marco!" Then, acted like an ordinary, scared citizen, putting the exclamation point on his statement, a horn beep, realizing it was a cop car in front of him at the stop sign! It made Shane smile, seeing the officer look in the mirror, pause and then open the door of the patrol car. Strangely, the officer, whom he recognizes as Deputy Jack, headed his way, tilts his sunglasses, mouths the words, `oh, it's you,' waves a hand and then gets back in his car. "Must be true," Shane thought about how word gets around in a small town. He didn't knock it. Though, as the cop car pulls away and he drives on, it occurs to Shane, either Marco has spoken to the officer on his behalf or else...and this made him smile, it had happened again, his drop-dead, gorgeous looks has gotten him off the hook again! It also could have been the officer not having an interest in men, but Shane swore Marco said the 6'5 cop, looking like his muscular bod was going to bust right of his uniform, looked to fit the description of this one. Also into fabricating stories during spare moments, like lying in bed with a hand wrapped around his pole, Shane thought what a hot jerk off the tall deputy would make. Right now though, thoughts like that, if allowed to perpetuate, could get him into trouble. Purposefully, Shane purchased dark suits, in case he show `stain himself,' but sometimes a shiny, wet spot could be picked up by the naked eye. On his way to the hospital, he didn't want to take any chanced, so settled on taking in the sights of the town, driving there. Arriving at the hospital, he runs into Ricky. Since everyone else was busy, Shane elected him to show him where the hospital records were. Shane was unhappy to find a pile of paper file folders. "Don't tell me the hospital is still in the 20th century?" Ricky, knowing things were a little backward, "uh, yeah, but soon Doc Krempl says we'll be catching up." "I see." Ricky was happy to help Shane, but sad because he dressed in a full suit, dress shirt and tie. One of the things he loved, was peering down the open shirt of the guy he was talking with, seeing what he `owned.' Opening a folder, looking at a paper, something scribbled on it, front and back, Shane asks, "what's this?" Shrugging both shoulders, Ricky says, "looks like Doc Krempl's writing. You should've caught him when he was here." "I suppose he's in surgery?" "Not sure. I think he went out for coffee." "Fine," Shane tosses the papers on the desk. "I'll be back." Ricky bit a lip. For certain, the man needed to get relaxed and surely he could write a prescription, which would entail more than taking 2 aspirin and calling him in the morning. Shane Dean was a hot man and for Ricky's imagination, he would certainly drop to his knees in an instant. There was one thing standing in Ricky's way, the fact he met Jordan Barre. In a way, he looked upon it as a connection to Rusty, his mentor at the boarding school back east. Watching Shane take his exit, Ricky was proud of himself. It seemed he and Jordan had much in common, more than just being a year apart in age. It made him smile just now, how well their puzzle pieces fit together, in the fabric of life. The oldest of several siblings, Jordan took up the slack in a one-parent family. Unlike himself, when Jordan went off to college, even though achieving a degree in education, American history, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with that degree. Jordan had admitted to Ricky, taking the position of `house-man' at the private, exclusive boarding school, one thing he hadn't planned on was meeting Rusty! Regardless, whatever happened, to be a part of Jordan's history, this was the here and now and with a place to live, Ricky was confident he would find his true calling. He even mentioned teaching high school history, which Jordan didn't shoot him down. His reverie fading, Ricky looks up, "Oh my god!" "What?" Jordan asks Ricky. "I was just thinking about you!" Walking up to Ricky, Jordan didn't care if they were in a public place, slipping arms inside the hospital blues, going lip-to-lip. Ricky's arms hung to his sides, "uh, I'm on duty," he abruptly ended the sweet affection. "Sorry," Jordan backs off. "I probably should know better." Smiling, Ricky's not too harsh on him, "yeah, you should! So, what's up? Did you talk to the sup?" Taking Ricky's advice, Jordan did drop by the board of ed. office, "that Dr. Dinkelspiel is quite a character!" Ricky never lost the smile, in fact it turning `toothy,' "Dinky didn't put a hex on you and drop to his knees?" Laughing at Ricky's antics, Jordan replies, "no offense, but I'm not into `grampas'!" Putting a finger to his lips, Ricky thinks, "I'm surprised he hasn't decided retiring. Then again, he always said the only way the public could remove him from office, was in a casket!" "It's not the impression I got," Jordan says, like he has inside info. "Oh? Now that would certainly make you different than all the rest!" "In fact," Jordan is quiet on purpose. "Yes?" Ricky is slowly falling desperate for affection, closing in. Backing off a little, Jordan says, "Dinky says if I can get my admin degree by the end of the summer, he's sure to bring my name up as superintendent of schools?" "Really? Hmm, and I thought Dinky was a bottom. Guess I'm wrong!" Smirking, Jordan stood on one foot, other one relaxed, but his thoughts were not, "for your information, I did it on my own recognition, not falling to my knees and undoing his zipper!" "Of course," Ricky shrugs one shoulder, as if flirting, "you're not into gramps!" "You're pathetic." "One of my strengths," Ricky laughs it off. "Anyway, Dinky says I can do the work online, gave me the website and while I was there, signed me up. I'm now officially enrolled in `superintendent school'!" "Hmm, we should celebrate. Why don't you go over to the Trading Post and have Chris Dallo outfit you in some leather gear?" "Like I said, you're pathetic!" "Where are you going?" "You're on the clock, or did you forget?" "Bummer!" Ricky replies. "Yeah and I still have a job working construction out at the ranch," Jordan replies. Happy-go-luckily, Ricky says, "good thing you have an `in' with the boss!" "Yeah." Fact is, walking out of the hospital, for all of a few minutes, Jordan had flashbacks of being with Rusty. He couldn't deny though, his main focus was Ricky. Their time together last night was great, the sex and all, though he wasn't so sure about all this talk of kinky stuff. Then, hitting him like a ton of bricks, there Jordan stood, right in front of the Trading Post! "Coming or going?" a voice popped up from behind. "Not sure," Jordan hadn't made up his mind if he were for or against this leather business. There were many ways to lead a customer into finding out information, Chris Dallo knowing about fifty ways, "are you here to outfit yourself or someone else?" It could have meant, fishing, camping, rock climbing, cycling, soccer or any of a number of other sports, or designing a dungeon, complete with what a guy wore! `Neither,' Jordan thought, but thinking if he was surely going to assume such a prestigious position in the community, come the fall, he should dress the part, "cowboy hat, I guess would be a start." "C'mon in," Chris leads the way. "You're here by yourself?" Jordan asks, following Chris. Getting an impression, Chris says, "can't condemn a man for beating me to the punch!" Smiling, Jordan says, "I didn't mean it `that' way!" It then occurred to Jordan, how Chris `knew,' but let it go. Then, the possum is out of the bag, Chris asking, "so, are you here for yourself or shopping for Ricky?" "Wait," Jordan is not really surprised, but acts the part, "how did you know that Ricky and me..." "Something you have to know," Chris informs him, "if you want to learn any gossip, you either seek out Kira Valdez or Ricky. My luck, your new boyfriend is Ricky and since that's the case, I'll let you know his birthday is coming up, so I can help you out with that special present for someone who has everything." Okay, well he knew, not which Jordan would agree with them being `boyfriends,' yet. "Um, I hear you're not from around here?" "I was away at college, but plan on making this my home. Why do you ask?" Jordan didn't want to sound accusatory, so words it, "the store keeps inventory of what is bought and sold?" Smiling, Chris says, "not so much of the camping stock, but from the back room, stock is meticulously controlled." Then, before the moment is lost, "wanna take a look?" Having an idea of what lay behind lock and key at the back of the store, Chris having slowly led him in that direction, Jordan says, "would there happen to be something for Ricky's birthday behind that door?" Defining it, Chris replies, "I don't think Ricky would be happy with a fishnet or bicycle helmet!" "Okay," Jordan replies, "let's see what you've got." Chris had changed things around since coming back from college. Leaving for university, he was glad he had discovered the old man's cache, without him knowing it. For himself, he had cataloged everything in the room with information from the internet. For instance, before Chris got to college, he had a general idea of the sizes of a complete set of buttplugs. In fact, one night, near graduating from 12th grade, he had come across videos of dudes inserting all sizes of plugs into greased pleasure holes. Some would howl with pain, followed by pleasure, when their cocks were massaged. He even recalls sitting up astutely in his chair, exclaiming, `no way,' when some muscle head, in a sling, was fitted with a plug bigger than a man's leg! Even though he knew about this, Chris found it more pleasurable to stick his `own' buttplug up a dude's canal! The smaller buttplugs he arranged on the shelf, but the more `ballistic' types he kept out of sight. Thereby, when a questioning man walked into the room and saw the unoffensive gear first, it would keep him from making an about face and running from the store! Not totally ignorant of stuff like ropes, knowing dudes liked to be tied to a chair or bed, Jordan picks up, "what the hell?" "Yeah," Chris takes the man-sized cock and balls out of Jordan's hand, "you know, some guys, they just can't get it up!" It made Jordan laugh! "Yeah, right." Then Chris pries, "How about Ricky? Do you think he needs a big one of these?" Still giddy, Jordan says, "why don't you just ask me if I have a big dick?" A trick to closing the door with his foot, Chris kicks it. Closing with a bang, Chris says, "Go ahead. Show me!" Not about to allow another person to step all over him, Jordan says, "I might need a pair of lips for stimulation... you know, to get an idea of my full potential?" "Hmm, should I give Ricky a call?" "He's on duty. He can't leave." To save the day, there was a rap at the door. "Customer," Chris says. However, when he opens the door, Chris is surprised, Jordan saying, "looks like more than one!" His eyes were affixed, not by the one standing directly in front, but behind the door-knocker. "We saw your sign in the window." For all intentional purposes, Chris' `Help Wanted' sign meant hiring one, but how could he possibly turn two `handsome' lads, "you're looking for jobs; summer? Fall?" It wasn't too tough to hide, the muscle lad behind, speaking up, "we're headed to BU after the summer." "Yeah," the first lad agrees, "and need to earn a little spending money." "You guys got names?" Chris starts the oral interview. Storming ahead of his bud, with more assertive intent, his hand was out, "I'm Rick Rodgers and this here is my bud, Patrick Donovan. We'd sure like for you to hire us?" All Jordan could do was smile. Apparently, the last part had been tacked on, with all Rick could behold, gazing into the room, his eyes partaking of the interesting view. Patrick says of it, condemning his friend's hasty attitude, "Rick, you idiot," then to Chris, "you have to pardon Rick, like sometimes he forgets his manners." However, whether it would embarrass Chris, he didn't actually think it would, Jordan picks up one of the manmade cock and balls, asking, "do you happen to know what this is for, Rick?" Chris turns, taking the polyurethane cock, "really, Jordan?" He set it down. Grabbing Jordan by the arm, "the rest of the interview is outside." However, Rick just had to get his dibs in, "I could demonstrate how that's used, if you want me to?" Since Rick was looking at Jordan, he figured it was asked of him, "I'm not the boss here." "Damn shame," Rick replies. Chris, who had begun to walk Patrick around the store, calls over, "don't you have `work', Jordan?" There was that name again, Rick infatuated with the tag placed on the hot man! "I did, but I would assume, it almost noon, the crew will be breaking for lunch." Jordan had no doubt, as to why Chris was trying to get rid of him. Instead, like a bad boy, he stuck around! He loved it, when 18-year old Rick was trying his best to `pick him up,' "you ever go camping, Jordan?" "Nope," Jordan quips. "You?" "Nah, but if I ever found the right guy, wouldn't mind trying." Jordan knew why Rick said that, Chris explaining to Patrick, how two separate sleeping bags can be zippered into one! "Hey," Jordan says incognito, "just to let you know, I have a boyfriend!" "So?" Rick has all the answers, "they make tents to accommodate three!" He was about to say he wasn't into robbing the cradle, but certainly, Rick wasn't as lean as his buddy and Jordan knew shouldn't show encouragement, but those bulky pecs, filling up that muscle shirt was too much not to, "you workout?" Smart, Rick could figure out Jordan already knowing the answer to his own question, "I could show you some stuff, if you've got the time. Of course," he didn't want to throw a wrench in the works, "your partner's welcome to join us, that is if he's interested too?" Walking around the store, Rick wasn't half as interested in what his job requirements would be, much as finding out about Jordan. In all, he learned Jordan quite educated, that he's been to Boston and the outlying areas, including the cape, is working during the summer to achieve an administration degree and currently works out at the Cleg Ranch, on the construction crew. Of course, Rick includes in his line of firing off questions, "they hiring out at the ranch?" "I thought you were interested in working at the Trading Post?" "Tell you the truth," Rick, the gabby one of the two shows off his conversational skills, "I wouldn't mind being the crash test dummy for all that stuff in the back room, but I bet there's tons of hot construction dudes where you work, eh?" "Oh yeah," Jordan jokes, "the woods are crawling with'em!" Breaking up their little chat, which Jordan finds quite entertaining, Chris says, "well, your friend has a job. What about yourself?" "Much as I wouldn't mind working for you, `sir'," Rick seemed to know `the lingo,' I think I'll try my luck seeking a job out at the Cleg Ranch." Patrick says, "whatever suits you bro." Apparently, Patrick and Chris weren't talking all about lures, rather what could lure Patrick to the back room! "That is, if they're hiring," Rick adds. "Right," Jordan replies. Then Rick divulges, "it's not like we really strapped for a cash flow, eh bro?" Truthfully, they weren't paupers. Patrick's father was the only dentist within tens of miles. Rick's parents were divorced. He lived with his mom, who didn't need to work. His father worked in Texas, for a wealthy cattle baron. With college money, they were set, but with grounded parents, they needed to learn to pull their own weight. "Right, but you know what it means if we get into trouble?" "Us, get into trouble?" Rick replies. However, Jordan, having been a mentor for a dozen boarding school guys, knew why Patrick probably said it. He learned for himself, the hard way, from his pappy, a man's got to answer for himself, whether he choses the high road to heaven, or the lower road to hell! Speaking of the devil, in walks Rusty, "hey, Jordan!" Having not seen his good friend, buddy and all that stuff since yesterday, Rusty walks over, giving Jordan a hug. "Hey," Jordan says, returning it, but wonders, "it's only been since yesterday." Over Rusty's shoulder he's distracted. Though, so is Rick, walking over to Michael, "nice pecs." Michael towering over Rick by about 3 inches, they both found a common trait, "you too!" They punch knuckles. `Oh man,' Rick thought and felt, this guy with big pecs, banging both fists on his built chest, "you and him," he nods towards Rusty, talking with Jordan, "friends?" "Friends, maybe more." "Oh," Rick backs down, "that's cool." Jordan, tracking Michael's pecs and Rick, could only muse, `poor Rick. One more strike and he's out!' Finding Rick an okay guy, except a little immature, Jordan put a buzz in Rusty's ear, whom reciprocates, "I hear you're looking for a job in construction, Rick. What's your experience?" Looking at Rusty, Rick smiles, saying, "I used to have this huge, 8,000 piece Lego set. Does that count?" They laughed, Jordan saying in Rusty's ear once more, "he's not short on muscle. "Could hoist a bucket of nails up to the second floor, no doubt?" Rusty's business with Jordan was of a personal nature, asking him to be his `personal spy', which when leaving the Trading Post, told him to keep a particular eye on Rick! Jordan, everything he touched in the store, Rick was right on his tail, "you want it?" Tenth time in the asking, Jordan knew to reply, "no!" The first 9 items, Rick had offered to pay for. "If you're so keen on buying everything for me, why are you looking for a job?" Rick summed it up in one word, "`rents'. They can't seem to wait until I get some fancy degree in business, to get out there and find a real job in the world." "Business, is it? What kind of business?" Genuinely interested in young people, Jordan's mind was on not only Rick's fine bod, but also what made him tick. However, in the past five minutes, Rick has been gravitating towards the back room, "interested, by chance, in anything in that room?" Chris, he was busy with showing Patrick everything about the store. Surprised before, he neglected to lock the room which was always kept locked, unless the store was closed. Having turned the knob, walking in, Jordan questions Rick, "I don't think we're supposed to be in here without store personnel?" Picking up that poly-cock, balls attached, Rick says, "bet you would love to try this out on some guy, eh?" Taking it from Rick's hand, setting it back down on the table, Jordan says, "maybe, but certainly not `your' ass!" Then the questions rattled off, faster than Jordan could think; top? Bottom? Ever used any of these toys? Etc. To everyone, whether Jordan had or had not, he answered in the negative. But then, it was his turn to return fire, "how about yourself?" Rick's history began to unfold, "some, but not with Patrick. With Patrick we were strictly vanilla. You know, no kinks or twists?" Curious, Jordan comes out with, "Patrick your first fuck?" He smiles back at Jordan, "dude, you think that's any of your business?" "Probably not." However, whether any of his business, or not, Jordan holds up a large buttplug, "ever have one of these up your ass?" Picking up a set of clamps, attached to a chain, Rick evades the question, "hey, want to pin these on my nips?" Patrick and Rick must've not have been too conscientious about getting jobs, dressed in tees. Jordan has to laugh, Rick lifting his tee, holding one of the clamps to his nip! He couldn't say it wasn't inviting, Rick's bulky pecs on display and the meaty nips, "not really. Not into the `kinky' lifestyle." Being disagreeable, Rick confronts him, "but you were holding it in your hand and...you were in this room in the first place, you must have an interest?" "Oh really? You have all the answers, do you? For your information, much like you lured me from the camping department, over to this room, Chris did the same thing. What do I look like?" Smiling, the 18-year old replies, "I'd sure find it a pleasure giving you a blowjob?" All Jordan could do is roll his eyes, saying, "come on, let's get my stuff and get out of here." However, before they left, Chris establishing Jordan a line of credit, but not writing anything down. Jordan, kind of fond of Rick, regardless of their interests, decides they should both trade in their baseball caps for the cowboy style! % Going back to the Open Door, Rusty was amazed how dedicated the men, who chose to venture into town for lunch, looked up to the man in charge. Michael picks up one of the desserts deposited on their table, with ranch hands coming and going, "apple for the teacher?" "Whatsamatter, Michael, you never bribed your teacher?" Taking a bite out of the red orb, Michael replies, "nope. I always did my work. Dotted every `i' and crossed every 't'." "And never kissed the boys and made them cry?" Rusty giggles. "Maybe one or two," Michael says, smiling like there was a story behind all that smooching! Then, looking up, seeing a dude enter, Rusty says, "do we know him?" Michael shrugged both shoulders, "I wish we did!" Mr. Tall, ginger, dark brown hair, bearded and handsome as hell, was headed towards their table, but veered off towards the deli counter. "There goes our `incoming!'" "Yeah," Rusty agrees, "so many men, so little time." "Oh?" Michael says, lisping, "what am I then, chopped pastrami?" "It's supposed to be liver, Michael!" "I know, but I get sick just thinking about it!" "Don't blame ya," the two clinked knuckles. "Hello." Michael's heart raced, his eyes about popping out of their sockets! Rusty, he showed more control, "hi there." "They told me at the counter I could find `Rusty Cleg', here?" Knowing, if a dude were looking for Rusty, it had something to do with the ranch, most likely a job. With more than sugar plums dancing in his head, Michael right out says, "you're hired!" "Michael?!" Rusty says in a blaming tone. Amending his statement, Michael says, "as soon as we find out about you. Where are you from?" Rusty cuts in, "first, if we could have your name?" Michael says, "that was my next question." "I guess I can handle 2 questions at once. The name's Connor McGonigal and I'm from Traverse City, Michigan. Next?" Rusty was not immune to what could be obtained next, but not wanting Michael to get the wrong impression, about how to go about interviewing a candidate, "what type of a job were you looking for?" Wanting to redeem himself, Michael asks, "what are your qualifications?" he looks to Rusty, who doesn't say anything. "My specialty is horticulture, but if you don't have a position which suits that qualification, I can do almost anything!" Michael just stare, being good, and quiet. For certain he had some specialities on his mind, could fall under the `anything' category. Connor rattles off a few degrees, that he had worked all over the world, collecting specimens, growing plants on a plantation, in a greenhouse, in a lab, discoveries of what's indigenous to particular parts of the world and ending with having written articles and having his own blog. "How come you're not some professor in a university?" "I tried that route." He only chose to tell a certain few of his woes, Connor sensing something in Rusty, "but unfortunately I did something totally against the code of teaching, I let myself fall in love, with a student." Stoopid, Michael saying it, but at least they found out, "was it a girl or a boy?" It was all Rusty could do, from lifting his foot, bringing a heel down and crushing toes! "Please excuse Michael. Y'see, he tends to be the type who doesn't know when to mind his own business," Rusty apologizes for his cute boyfriend. Making a pistol out of his hand, Michael points it towards his own temple, "yeah, I tend to be a little looney upstairs!" Connor couldn't help, but smile at Michael's antics. For certain he was not only cute, but very well built. Then, remembering how he acted and what he said would be the judge of whether he found employment, "I know there's laws which prohibit against discrimination against gays, but what matters to me, if you're accepting, I'd like to apply. If you're not, I'll be courteous and go my way." "Accepting?" Michael lets out a little giggle and not minding his own business again, shares, "Bro, if you only knew!" Connor smiles, "oh, not really up on it, you know, the clues as to...never mind!" Whether, he or Michael or Connor was gay or not, Rusty surely was not up on all the doings on his father's slate, "Problem is, I'm not sure where you could be placed in the work force around the ranch." "What about Kira?" Michael responds to the call for action. "That is, if you don't mind working around a woman?" Smiling, Connor shares, "some of my best friends are, women?" Rusty considers, "I suppose it would be good if Kira and the rest had someone working with them, who actually knew what they were doing!" Just then, Monte happens by, but his eyes were more on Connor, as he asks, "I wonder if I can borrow the truck, Rusty? Um," he swallows, so taken in by the beautiful bearded man, "Kira says she needs some hoses and other stuff." Rusty could very well notice the attraction, "Monte, this is our new garden-person," for lack of an official title, "Connor McGonigal." Michael throws his 2-cents in, "my mistake, there's already a `man' working with the women gardeners." Standing, Connor puts his hand out, "good to meet you, Monte." "About the truck?" Confused about one thing, Rusty questions, "tell me, how did you get here, Monte?" Shrugging both shoulders, he says, "hitched!" "What about Kira's truck?" Michael asks. "Yeah?" Rusty agrees. "Kira says, only she drives her truck," Monte replies, shrugging both shoulders again, as if to ask, `what's up with that?' Pulling keys out of his pocket, Rusty, who frankly did not know what to do with the new hiree, "here, and take Connor with you. He's an expert at hoses!" Michael thought it, but kept it to himself, thinking how good the rugged, bearded, bear-of-a-man could be with a full hose! "Oh, one other thing," Connor says, "would you happen to have a place where I can sleep?" Taking responsibility into his own hands, Monte says, "no problem, if you don't mind my snoring?" "What snoring?" Rusty asks. "I better get going," Monte snatched the truck keys off the table, rather than hang around and explain things. Watching the two leave, Michael had it on his mind, "how would you know if Monte snores, or not?" Rather than a long, drawn out explanation, Rusty says, getting out of his chair, "intuition!" Another idea he got in his head, "you know, those two make a nice match." Luc yells, "24?" "That's us," Rusty says. Instead of eating there, they decided take out, which Luc did up for them in a jiffy. Walking out of the Open Door, Rusty stares straight ahead. Talking a mile a minute, Michael suddenly finds he's talking to himself! Having seen where Rusty was off to, Michael hurries across the road. He `sees his ghost', rather probably should have, when he's almost run over by a truck. Looking through the passenger side window, instead a grumpy look, he catches a smile, the cowboy tilting his hat. It's then Michael recognizes Deputy Jack, apparently out of uniform, on his day off. Walking over to the window being lowered, he says, "I should pay more attention to where I'm rushing off to in such a hurry." Normally, in uniform, the deputy would give a person a ticket for jaywalking, not which the country roads were labeled with signs like a city. Instead, "you? Nah, more like I'm in the wrong. If you were alert enough, you would have most probably clock me at doing 1 or 2 miles over the speeding limit," and with a smile, "you would be doing your duty, making a citizen's arrest?" According to Michael, that was the flirt of all flirts, something he's never heard, which unable to think of what to say, leaves it simple, "oh really?" "If you're busy right now, we could put the law on hold?" It made sense to him, the deputy, in plain clothes, wanting more than to be slapped with a ticket, but Michael also wondered, "how do you even know I'm attracted to you?" "Because," Deputy Jack shifts gears, "it's my job to know who's gay and who's not! Be more careful," he leaves Michael with words of wisdom, "wouldn't want you to get run down before you serve justice on me!" As Rusty had already seen, a shirtless dude, holding up a bicycle tire for observation, Michael, without the truck to obstruct his view, looks upon almost the same situation. "Hey," Michael says, which meant he wanted to be introduced to the hot, bearded dude. "Michael, this is Josh. Him and me went to school together." "Hi," Josh says, holding his bike tire with two hands. "Got a flat." Rusty wanted to share some more middle school info with Michael, but for certain not everything which brought the two friends together. Josh, he was careful too, not wanting to break the two up, Rusty already telling Josh, Michael his boyfriend, whether it had officially come to that or not. "No patch?" Michael asks, not which he knew how to patch one, even if his life depended on it! "Normally I would, but had more than one flat this week," Josh reports. Even though late morning, the temps were that of early afternoon, which would be a valid reason for Josh's skin painted with sweat. "I'd offer you a ride home in my truck," Rusty says, "but one of the ranch hands needed to borrow it." "That's okay," Josh says, starting to gather up his stuff, "I'll hike over to the gas station. Lee will probably have the fixin's to repair it." There was a lot to gather, the bike, detached wheel, Josh's shirt, his knapsack and helmet. "Don't mind helping you," Michael offers, picking up the bike helmet. "Right," Rusty agrees, "and maybe by the time we get there, Monte will be back with the truck." The three trek along the side of the road, Josh leading the way, his bike over one shoulder. Michael was a little disappointed, Josh putting his shirt back on. Rusty, last in line, carried the wheel having the flat tire. He smiled, thinking what Michael might have on his mind. Rusty couldn't blame his boyfriend, because if he were second in line, chances are, he would have stared at Josh's ass. In thinking it, his mind flashbacks to middle school, 8th grade, when he found Josh under the bleachers, cock out, jerking off, having watched senior high football players doing calisthenics. He's startled out of his reverie, when Michael asks, "by the way, how did you and Rusty meet, Josh?" Fortunately, they were a hundred feet from the gas station, Josh saying, "it's a long story. I'll tell it to you when I have more time." Taking off, Michael turns around, saying point blank to Rusty, "hmm, it's like he was afraid to tell me!" "And that means?" Rusty confronts. "Nuttin'!" Michael replies, again, shrugging both muscled shoulders. Though, Michael promptly forgot about it, entering one of the garage ports, happening upon Josh, talking with the mechanic. There was no contrast, other than different color hair, fairer skin than Michael, he and the mechanic both with built pecs and swimmers build! % Meanwhile, it didn't take long before Monte and Connor got to know each other. So well, that after they picked up the hose, Monte made a detour, saying he thought he passed by a picnic area the other day, while scouting the countryside. "Well, this here's the place!" In a snide way, Connor says, "are we getting out?" Figuring it an invitation, Monte lifts the door handle, "we really shouldn't!" It didn't take too much time, too many words, before Connor lay stripped, on the picnic table, legs spread, Monte, shirtless, pants divided, leaning over and moistening up the Irishman's 8-inch stick! In a matter of minutes, Connor had Monte hugging a tree, while pumping his cock in and out. Sure, Monte complained of what the bark was doing to the front of his bod, but what happened behind made it feel like a rough massage. Not having a condom handy, Connor still pressed against Monte, the motions of fucking, but his load dribbled down the grains of the tree bark. The two left quite a big puddle at the base of the tree! % 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.