Date: Thu, 8 Sep 2016 13:08:51 +0000 From: TCHASE MCPHEE Subject: ?JoLLy RaNCHeRs? 21 % 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 Nifty Stories Archive Donation donate.nifty.org Donation information for the Nifty Stories Archive % "JoLLy RaNCHeRs" 21 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee ^ 0 ^ % Growing up, living in a mansion, in Tenafly, New Jersey, Dave was his parent's last hope, a `normal' boy, reaching adulthood, fathering grandchildren. Alas, it didn't come out exactly the way it happened to Ned and Zack, but on the day when Dave was leaving, his friend comes rushing up the long drive and before he could give him the `icksnay', that the `rents were on the porch, waving goodbye, Dave was freaked, his buddy hugging and kissing him! Good thing Dave was all packed, diving behind the wheel and driving out of there like a bat out of hell! No biggie, Dave already learning how a person of gay gender was treated, like an abandoned child. It didn't bother him, the last reaction, his parents on the porch, a look of disgust on their faces, like eating sauerkraut topping on ice cream. Still, it wasn't half near as shocking as the siblings' parents catching Zack on his knees, servicing his brother. In fact, an education in itself, Dave watching Ned blow his load, Zack not able to swallow fast enough...man, he didn't know a guy could produce so much `fluid'! Dave didn't stick around, to watch the sparks fly, their father angry, running in Zack's room, slapping the two around, yelling and screaming. Ned was sorry he had his camera with him, having photographed Zack's cock and balls, laying out nicely on the bed. Second frame had Zack, holding both their cocks and smoothing them together. Good thing the camera didn't get smashed in the ruckus. That was one of the things Dave had brought with him, Ned and Zack's `sex album.' It was cool to jerk off, flipping through the pages. To safeguard against getting any of the pictures `wet', he filed them into plastic pages, then placed them in a notebook. Long before leaving home, Dave `inherited' Ned's BMW. His father said he could have the car, but only if Dave took responsibility in the upkeep. One of those things was working for gas money. What good was a car, if it was sitting in the driveway? Dave found an outlet which he could work with, in the form of 9-inches! One of the best gay playgrounds in the world, New York City took up much of Dave's teen-time, finding out about how `the other half' lived. Around his small NJ community, there wasn't the action happening, as in the big city. So, on weekends he jumped on a train and headed out to make gas money! First time he got picked up, was outside a gay club. He wanted like hell to get in, but was too young. Even though he packed a hefty drill bit, he still looked more like 16, than 18. Though, some guys didn't give a hoot, nor a holler, how old a dude was, long as he was packin' something big. Dave had to laugh, after getting into the club, on the arm of a `gentleman'. The older man, Dave guessed, in his 30's, all he wanted was to carry him around the club on his arm and wow his friends. Not every learning experience was on the internet! His first time, he learned a lot. Sure, he knew dudes had sex in the men's room, but with a few hours of `hands on' experiences...one thing Dave found out, some guys used a system. A dude would approach him at the bar and lure him back to the pissing facilities, only to have a second waiting. It scared Dave at first, but soon he found, sandwiched in between two dudes, a fuckin' thrill. While chest to chest, his shirt was worked off. Then, the guy from behind reaches around his waist and unbuckles his belt. Dave never found his shirt that night, but what he did realize, how nice it was, having a tongue work him over, from neck to navel. He didn't quite make it down to his nuts and bolt, because the guy from behind worked his way around, and started nibbling on the sandwich meat! Dave almost felt his eyes pop out, when hands on ass, there to separate his cheeks, were pulled apart to accommodate a tongue! It was so cool how one of the two kept his cock hard, which the sucker termed, his `shaft'. While the dude worked his way down to his shaft. Then, Dave surprised himself, the tonguing of his ass chute stopping and feeling something in it's place. Like some dominant master-dude, Dave's hand is there, reaching down and back, grabbing up a hard tube, saying in a blaming tone, "uh, don't put that there, dude!" This happened out in the broad open, between the sinks and stalls. Dave was aware, a crowd building, standing there, dropping pants, stroking to the spectacle before them. In a serious mood, he didn't count on being the brunt of everyone's laughter, Dave directing the other dude's hard shaft to over, in front of himself, "stick it in one of them...take your pick." What Dave hadn't realized either, another lesson of the gay life, a top guy was licking his asshole...like, he was priming it to stick his cock in...like that's so weird that a guy who likes to fuck, always lubes up with his tongue. Dave thought only bottom guys do that! It was kind of erotic, being the center of attention, while 4 dudes, with their cocks hanging out and stroking, cheered him and his two suitors on, with `oh yeah,' `man, that's fuckin' hot,' or `suck that cock, boy!' While Dave was the center of attraction, his momentum wasn't building, entirely on the lone dude, who tantalized, working his luscious shaft, but the duo beside him. It became a real sweat festival, others entering, some standing there to stroke, while others, who have never met, became fast friends. If that wasn't enough, a chubby, hairy dude, with a black, leathery harness over his shoulders and pecs enters. Dave's attention is drawn away from the fucker who was entertaining him. On Dave's mind is, `now what's with these guys?' The chub wasn't alone. With him was another dude, dressed in a leathery type of uniform. Dave wondered if they were together? Certainly they had to be, another stout dude holding a `dog leash', attached to a collar around the chub's neck! Dave thought the attire was attractive, the harness corralling in the chub's big, bulbous pecs. Through each nip were tiny `barbells'. He had notice a student in the locker room at school, a ring piercing on his nip, but never something weird like this. Then Dave learns something new. What looks like an ordinary pair of pants, only made of leathery substance, is not all what it looks to be. The leash-holder reaches down, grabs the chub around the balls, and gives a pull. With unsnapping sounds, a patch where his lower anatomy was situated, is pulled free from the rest. It comes off entirely, a hefty set of shaft and balls falling out! Not the end of what seemed like a flick, complete with a directed script, the leash-holder says, "okay, who wants to suck my boy dry, for 50-bucks?" Suddenly, Dave realizes it, the dude on his own shaft, sucking for free! Main reason for being there at all, Dave has lost sight of what is real. Backing away, he yells out, "who wants to suck mine for $40-bucks?" The heavily leathered dude gives Dave a dirty look! The dude on his knees looks up at Dave, saying, "but you didn't charge me?" "That's because," Dave thinks quick, "it was a commercial!" Then it's heard above the crowd, "35!" "25!" Dave counters. Rather than get in a fight about it, apparently the leather-man favored Dave, rather than be his foe, "Who'll lay down 10-bucks to watch my boy suck both our cocks?" Not really knowing if it were possible, Dave never hearing of a guy with a mouth big enough to suck down two, thinks himself funny, yelling out, "or who'll give me 100-bucks to suck 3 cocks?!" It sounded funny to Dave, but was shocked when guys began to whip out $50-bills! Two dudes payed Dave 100-bucks, but failed at trying to get his, the chub's and the leather-man's shafts all in their mouths at once. Still, Dave figured, the fee was worth trying to do something they hadn't the resources to try. Like, with so many wannabe's in the room, with apparently what Dave perceives, him and the leather-man the only two tops, it was an easy kill on raising gas money! It tickled Dave, laughing out loud, when the leather-man shoots his load, it oozes out all over the bottom-dude's face and chest. Another laugh was had, when some young dude sneaks up behind the leather-man's `property', as Dave learns the proper calling, to fuck him. After a while, Dave learned this was serious business, not laughing out loud, but wanting to, when the leather-man grabs some dude by the balls, who was ready to plant his cock in his boy's ass, "hey, you think you can fuck my boy for free?" Dave waited, the dude scared shit. "Uh...no, but trust me, mister. It's my first time and I didn't know," the young dude gulps, "I had to pay?" Apparently, he was around Dave's age. Dave, he was the same way, new at all this stuff. If he had known that guys would pay to suck him, he might be rich as his old man by now! His own ignorance was enough for Dave to say, "why don't you cut him a break?" Instead of the roomful of bottoms, vying for a mouthful, the leather-man seemed to treat Dave as an equal, "you think so, uh..." For the first time in the passing of two hours, Dave felt on the same level as the top-man next to him, "the name's.." It was all too obvious, Dave a novice in this place, which has the leather-man cutting in, leaning to his side, into Dave's ear, "don't use your real name." "Huh?" Dave looks to him. He gets in return a smile and a wink, which made Dave feel more relaxed. Learning back, he says, low-keyed, "why not?" "Trust me!" There was that smile, which seemed to only channel down to Dave, which he then utters, "um..." He couldn't make up his mind, so it's pinned on him, "you look like a Johnson," the leather-man peers down to Dave's extended 9-inches, "first name, Mark!" "Johnson? Mark?" Dave questions. "Like, where did you come up with that?" "I'll tell ya later. You can call me, `Slade.'" With money shoved in their faces, there wasn't much time for conversation. For the rest of the night, rather early morning, when the club's bouncers came in to clear the room, `Mark Johnson' and `Slade' provided entertainment, at the expense of their cocksuckers. Of course, they didn't come for every guy who latched onto their meaty meal, `Slade' telling `Mark Johnson,' a time limit helped to keep their balls fully loaded! After leaving the men's room, `Slade' invites `Mark' back to his apartment. When they left the club, Dave finds out he was not in an ordinary dancing establishment, but a leather club. He wondered why he was the only one in street clothes. Having lost his shirt at the club, `Slade' makes sure someone gives up their leather vest, so the pair doesn't need to walk the streets shirtless. Dave was really knocked out of his gourd, when he finds out `Slade' is really Mark Worthington III, a rich financier on Wall St.! He also learns Mark is 37-years old. Another thing, there was only one bed in the apartment, which meant, if he stayed the night, he would have to share. Dave did question, if they did sleep in the same bed, could they not use fake names. Mark was Mark and Dave was Dave. They had gotten to the upscale apartment around 3a.m., at which time Mark wasn't ready for bed, inviting Dave to share a `bath.' Dave had never showered with a dude, except at school. He had played football, just so he could shower with the team. Of course, he had to make up, being hard was his natural length! The bath was nice, Dave finding out a lot about Mark. He was surprised again, when going to bed, Mark more `the bottom', his face planted in the pocket of Dave's crotch. Too, when Dave hints he's `close', Mark is the one to suggest taking it lying down or should he be doggie-style? Dave chose `dog', on account of he was interested to see where he was going, before his tip got there! Before getting into the dog-fuck-style, Mark reaches over to the night table, opening the drawer. It was kind of a bonus, Dave looking up at the cavern of Mark's bod. With `here we go', Mark pulls out a square, tinny package, saying, `you wanna do it, or should I have the honor?' Not knowing the answer, Dave left it up to Mark, `what do guys usually like?' `What guys like,' Mark tore off an end of the packaging with his teeth, spitting it out to his left, `is to get with it, before both guys lose it?' Dave thought it `real.' Never having put a condom on, Dave had Mark do it. It was such a pleasure, Mark forming the condom down his 9-inch tube, lips making the latex item coat his shaft! As Mark had warned, they hustled to get into place. Mark did get a little hyper over, `watching it,' when Dave got his digs in, without any lube, except Mark's saliva. Though, Mark had no one to blame but himself, remembering the first time he fucked a guy, not knowing you were supposed to lube it up. It was his fault there wasn't enough lube, before Dave dived in! It wasn't that Dave hadn't seen what it was like to fuck a dude, being at the club that night and porn flicks, at home. He guesses, putting 2 together, Mark in leather gear and having fucked a dude at the club roughly, that Mark liked to not only give, but get it. Regardless, Dave's first fuck, it was awesome! One little glitch, embedded to the hilt in Mark's ass, Dave thought he heard the door keyed. Sitting up and back, on his knees, caused his shaft to fall out, `did you hear that?' Mark turns his head, `relax. You can put it back in, it's only Hans.' `Hans?' thought right off, Mark having a partner. `The bouncer at the club?' `Right,' Dave pictures the 6'4, bulky dude, whom walked around like a prizefighter. Feeling an explanation was needed, `Hans and I have an open relationship.' `Oh? Does he like to fuck or get fucked?' He left Mark's apartment at 6a.m. In order to be at school by 8, Mark had his limo take Dave home, or rather dropped right off at school. Dave was dressed in a full set of Mark's clothing, which became a `present'. It wasn't the last time he saw Mark, in fact, both him and his partner became a big part of Dave's `city life'. Also, he never had to travel mass transit, to and from the city. When in town, Dave shacked up with Mark and Hans, doing a lot of stuff together. Some events were of a corporate nature, Dave on Mark's arm. Other times, they did stuff Dave liked to do, like shop, Mark becoming a teenager again. One thing was certain though, Dave never had a problem getting into the club! Saddest day of Dave's life, was leaving home, which also meant the NYC gay life...missing mostly Mark, but also Hans. Dave and Rick's trip to the Trading Post was uneventful. They parked, but walking up to the door, the sign read, `Closed'. Figuring that was that, Dave dropped Rick off at the cafe and headed off towards Cleg Ranch, turning the page of the next chapter of his life. Reporting to the ranch, Dave didn't know what he was in for, until setting foot in the kitchen tent. After brief intro's, Antonio set him to work at `dish maintenance'. His tools were laid out for him, sponge, means to wash, a deep basin, retractable spraying hose and plenty of soap. "Have fun," Antonio says, on furlough from the kitchen for a couple of hours, being he didn't need to peel potatoes, nor worry about scouring pots'n'pans. Outside the kitchen tent, Antonio inhales a deep breath of fresh air, unladen with garlic, oregano and other Italian aromas. The only ingredient in his kitchen, which Antonio lacks, sets him to thinking about fishing, "now, about that fish sauce!" About ready to investigate the lake, finding equipment stood in his way. However, right now, Antonio is interrupted from behind. "All done!" Of the 10 or so pots, utensils and the like, sitting in the sink, Antonio interrogates, "that's impossible, Dave," he drops both extended arms from the airy stretch. Making an about face, Antonio marches right back into the kitchen tent. Dave follows, already with a gloating attitude on his face. Flabbergasted, Antonio exclaims, "how did you..." Showing the boss his system, Dave explains, "first I set all the pots out," places `imaginary' pots on the floor, "picture them here and then," Dave reaches for the squirt bottle of detergent, "put a glob of goo in each pan," makes like he's doing it, but with the top jammed shut, "then," he reaches for the sink sprayer, "give each one a spray," places the hose back in place, "grab my sponge," Dave bends over with his sponge, mimicking scouring a pot, "and done!" Well, much as he liked the performance, Antonio enjoying the `scouring' part, Dave bent, pants riding down his backside, "but are they clean?" "Check for yourself, boss!" the 22-year old pot-scrubber replies. This is the part Dave liked, watching `the boss' scrutinize each pot, taking it from the drain, turning it over, setting the bigger ones on the hardwood floor, checking it for cleanliness. Dave did get a few pulses, each time Antonio `bent over', wanting to `divide and conquer', that hairy ass-crack staring at him from a distance. If a little more friendlier, Dave would move in, unbuckle, unzip and 'help' Antonio check all the pots out. He does get close enough to feel his pants touch Antonio's rear... "What do you think you're doing?" Antonio straightens up, his broad bod almost bowling Dave over. "Nuttin'," Dave says, smiling. "Uh, just making sure you think I did a good job. That's all!" Antonio, he just didn't know, had no real proof Dave was checking more than the pots out over his shoulder. Best thing to do, in a situation, is change the subject, "what do you know about fishing?" "Um," Dave's face looks like an upside down grin, "nuttin' much, other than my mom making me run in the fish store, while she was double parked, and picking up her order." "Hmm," Antonio rubs his stubble. Before happening upon the kitchen, Dave did trek through the great, green outdoors, "but there's a lake not far from here. All we need are a couple of hooks and some string?" "I see," Antonio's eyes `check out' the lad. At 28-years old, time was ticking away faster than Antonio could count. Only yesterday it seemed like he got the job at the Italian restaurant, delivering pizza, lasagna, anything which could be considered take out. He had started out at culinary school, but for the lack of funds, needed to quit. Nine long years ago he took the delivery job, hoping somewhere, sometime, he might happen upon the right man to fill his life with love, happiness and joy. Justin might have been that lad, but alas, not really his type. Alas, Antonio was reluctant to jump on the next opportunity. He also knew if he hesitated, what could be good fortune, might be lost. "Where do you think we can get some equipment?" Now Dave, being a nice guy, also learned, with older brothers and cousins, as youngest of the Barklee clan, he could more `assertive' and `aggressive', these traits becoming his greatest ally in the big city. "I hear the Trading Post in town has fishing gear, if you've got some wheels to get us there?" Dave had `wheels,' a nice, up to date BMW, but why should he burn his gas, when another car is available? "That's okay. I'll shop on my own." Rightfully, Dave didn't come into the Trading Post for anything other than a cowboy hat. From experience, he knew, if a dude didn't have the interest, he wouldn't hang around. This guy was `hanging!' True to Dave's thinking, the dude didn't make a quick escape. "Of course, it depends on what kind of fishing you intend on doing?" Antonio shuffles both feet sideways, reaching for a lure on the pegged fixture. "Well, being we're not near the ocean, it's not going to be deep sea!" It could have construed as a wise-guy remark, but Antonio could see the cute little smile out of the corner of one eye, remarking, "not into surfing, eh?" "You surf?" "Nope." "Me neither." "Well," Antonio has a go at some humor, "I'm not bad on the internet!" Dave though the pun dated, by laughed any how. If he was dead set against a guy, he'd let him know. Never the less, the way the cubby-dude's shirt was pulling at the stomach, pecs, his pants... "One of the best ways to meet a `person,'" Dave lays down his rules of attraction, "but realistically, I much more prefer face to face?" "Oh yeah," Antonio feels flush, jumping to his own conclusions, "I heartily agree." >From experience, Dave was about 90% sure this guy was `gay'. There was always that 10%, in his book of how it goes. He's been wrong a couple of times. One dude, in the city, he walked away, but at convention center, of Trekkies, another straight guy wasn't too forgiving, being insinuated he was gay, Dave kicked out for immoral conduct by the dude's friends...more than kicked out, chased for two blocks, ducking into an alleyway, hiding in a dumpster. This time, Dave went on gut instinct, "I'm Dave and I'm not really shopping for fishing equipment!" Turning to the cub, Dave's hand was out, ready to make an acquaintance. In the back of his mind, he already planned the front door as his escape! "Dave, eh?" Antonio felt a little shy, but took the hand. Justin didn't work out, but figuring there weren't many other trim guys who would take an interest... "Antonio Lombardi," and with a surefire hookup line, "I'm head chef out at the Cleg Ranch. Thought I'd fix some fish for lunch..." his hand was melting, "or dinner." Sensing he was crazy about this guy, Dave doesn't allow time to pass, "I accept your invitation." "What invitation?" Antonio is too slow to digest. "Oh? Dinner? You thought I..." Putting the screws to Antonio, Dave says, "unless you were planning on only catching 1 fish?" "Oh no," Antonio mimics with his hands, "I'll need much, much more than that." "Cool. When do we get started?" More info given about himself, the dazzle in Dave's eyes gave Antonio more to go on, than digging for information. "Well, then, why don't we shop!" Truthfully, Antonio hadn't fished in years, but with willfulness, on behalf of Dave, he was willing to rekindle his hobby, plus didn't mind being a mentor to the lad's tenaciousness...or was it more than that? Like himself, Dave saw that Antonio hadn't bothered with traditional fashion, a team baseball cap on his head. While Antonio picked stuff off the rack, then targeted fishing reels, he found himself a beige straw hat, dark brown and tan band around the center portion. He thought Antonio would look good in a black hat. Though, it did not resemble the curves of a cowboy hat. Regardless, creeping up behind him, Dave plopped it right on his head, "there!" Squatting down, his fat ass filled the seams of his pants. Knees to the bottom of the fixture gave Antonio the leverage to bend his neck backwards and look up. "How do I look?" "Kind of weird, upside down?" Antonio stands, staring into Dave's eyes, "now?" "Awesome!" Dave smiles a toothy grin. What Antonio would grow to know, Dave's smile would become like a worldwide trademark, "awesome. Right. Exactly what I was thinking." They stood there, neither one of them flinching a muscle. The gap closing in on his statistics, of whether Antonio were gay or straight, Dave dares to place both hands on the sides of the cub's shirt, "damn it, I hope you're gay!" "Well," Antonio says in a huff, but smiles, "I was kind of hoping the same!" That's how the two came together, after all the pussy-footin' around. More there inner feelings spoke for them and bringing them out into a conversational effort, right there in the middle of the store, they found true love! After that first kiss, Dave says, "ready to catch some fish?" "Right after we find a room!" Of course, the owner, Chris Dallo, always had his eyes and ears open, walks over to the two, "if you two need some privacy, got a room at the back of the store?" Such were the tingling of their loins, both jumped at the opportunity. However, when Chris throws open the back door, they are both quite astounded, Dave saying, "Wow!" Chris' real aim was to gain some sales out of the two customers, "if you feel obligated to fulfill a debt of gratitude, pick out some items you might like. Price is either on the bottom or a hanging tag." More than picking up a buttplug, plank of wood for whacking an ass, or bondage frame, which Antonio did check out the little white tag hanging from it, $250.00, but Dave's fingers ran along the silvery chains, arranged to fit a `human-sized filling', "I think we need to be left alone to decide?" "Suit yourself," Chris closed the door, sealing the two inside. A room without windows and only one way in or out, he didn't fear anything being stolen. Small stuff, the secretly-installed sensors would pick up nip-clamps or legal size police cuffs. Chris knew from experience, having already caught a culprit trying to steal from him. He made him pay, without having to call the Sheriff! "Question is, who's it going to be?" Dave turns to face away from the chain-linked hammock. Unbuttoning his shirt halfway, Antonio says, "are you asking me if I'm top or bottom?" Again, that killer smile, which could mean anything, Dave says, "as for me, I wouldn't mind being in or out of it, so take your pick!" It's the way Dave's played it, ever since spending weekends in NYC. He found the best action a result of either seducing a man into sucking him off. Later on, Dave learned from further experience, how easy it could become, whipping out a condom, tearing the top off with his teeth and fitting it over his fat 9-inches. Of course, Dave didn't think it funny, was scared shit, when the first time he tried fitting a too-small sized condom over his hard shaft, only getting it halfway up his cock. He didn't even stay the weekend in the city, but hustled home, checked out a clinic on the net and submitted himself for AIDs testing. Fortunately, he was negative, but from then on always used the `larger' size! "Well, if you're giving me a choice," Antonio says, slowly, like he's feeling any guy out, "I'd have to choose, pumping your guts full of lead!" He laughed, which the jolly way his stomach bounced, made Dave want to explore inside the shirt, as starters! Probably Antonio was nervous, because he hadn't had a steady, young guy in a long, long time. It wasn't any different being with Justin, but somehow, feeling the soft way Dave unbuttoned his shirt... "Oh-h-h-h-h-yeah..." Before pulling the shirt out of Antonio's pants, Dave's lips were inside his shirt, teasing tender nips! "Like that, do you?" "`Don't stop,' enough of an answer?" Dave's perception right now, was falling to his knees and unbuckling Antonio's belt, stripping it from the loops. "It's not exactly how I had it planned," Antonio vaguely states. Dave is perplexed, "you have a plan?" Putting a finger under Dave's chin, Antonio uses his charm to pick him up off his knees, "not really." Totally unplanned was walking into the Trading Post and falling for such a hot guy such as Dave. Balls calling to him with a disco beat, Antonio wanted to work things much at a quiet, subdued tempo. The situation not fast-paced, at jogging speed, it's the way he always thought the beginnings of true romance should go. With Antonio leading him on with a tender kiss, Dave took it upon himself to strip. First himself, working his own tee shirt off, he unbuckled his own pants. Stripped down to his briefs, Dave worked to even up the score with Antonio, working shirt off his broad shoulders, than picking up where he left off, at the buckle. Neither thought about shucking boots, but Antonio had an answer for that, laying Dave down, across the leather, supported at four corners by chains. Having never played victim to a harness and chains, Dave felt more than comfortable, lying back in it, grabbing above his head with both hands. While Antonio tore at the laces of Dave's boots, "I hope I'm a tight fit." Pulling each of Dave's boots off, Antonio questions, "why wouldn't you be?" He knew, but wanted to hear it out of the cattle's mouth. "I think you know," Dave read his mind! Holding the second boot, still on Dave's foot, Antonio says, "you're clean, aren't you?" "I take it you're not talking about my socks?" Smirking, Antonio looks at Dave, hands frozen to his left boot. "Of course I'm clean," Dave says, "I'm not that kind of guy?" Contrary to thought, Antonio didn't think Dave was a careless kind of guy. His intuition was telling him so, or else he wouldn't have initiated some sweet kissing, nor would he have Dave lay down in the leather sack, balls falling over his ass `door.' "I didn't think so," Antonio hastened to yank off boots, followed by pants. Staring at Dave's cooped up balls, "are you sure about this?" "Sure as I think it's gonna rain today!" A hand on Dave's brief, Antonio asks, "Is it supposed to rain today?" Smiling, Dave replies, "I dunno!" What Antonio figured, he didn't know either, if it was supposed rain. For certain, he knew, if and when he moved in to invade Dave's `privacy,' it wasn't going to go as tough as the other way around. >From looking over his own tall stalk, more revealing now that Antonio has removed his briefs, to watching the stripping of his fucker's tool, Dave knew it wasn't about to be a harrowing experience. He's played the part of fucker and being fucked. A versatile kind of guy, he knows how impalement can feel, based on size. Right now, Dave knew he had it over Antonio, about 2 inches longer, wider by a fraction. He's been fucked by cocks bigger than himself and knew how the initial insertion can be. With the cock staring him in the ass, Dave was under the impression things were going to go easy. Not true, after Antonio gently moved his cock into place, feeling the tip at Dave's doorway. Where he lacked in length or circumference, Antonio could sure drive a point home! % Bart had searched high and low for Coury, thinking he might be back at work, down by the creek. Studying the situation, Bart had wondered why such an elaborate structure had been designed and half-constructed over a `trickle' of water? Regardless, he wasn't there to criticize, though kind of cool picking out which construction men he'd like to own! A strong feeling down in his soul, Bart didn't compute why a guilty feeling came over him. First thing to pop into his mind was `Coury'. Then, out loud, condemning himself, "nah!" Walking back over the `trickle', he headed back to the main part of the ranch. He dreaded going back to the pile of potatoes and feeling kind of `yucky', decides to cool off with a swim. Approaching the swimming pool, he almost did an about face. Had it not been for what looked like the adjournment of men from one of the tables, he would have walked off. Instead, he waited until everyone had whittled down to a few, Coury among them. "Hey." Coury, after scooting his chair under the table, turns around, "potatoes all done?" Looking dejected, Bart says, "you didn't miss me?" It was a rush-rush morning, Coury's only deviation, what he and Bart did, off the record. Right now, even though he knew of Antonio's dinner menu, "that's not what I asked?" "Oh. So you've already forgotten about what happened a little while ago?" "Look, Bart, maybe I shouldn't have..." "Oh, I get it," Bart wasn't dumb on matters of the heart vs. a dude's pulsating balls, "you needed a quickie and I just happened to be the only guy around?" "Look," spur of the moment, Coury didn't know how to communicate his position, "it's complicated." Instead of turning and running, Bart's feeling weren't totally crushed, "then, how's this..other than me and you being what we're supposed to be to each other, do `how' we want to be, in secret?" Not sure he got it, Coury says, "not sure I got all that?" Certain he had strong feelings for Coury, Bart evaded the l-o-v-e word, "I know it didn't start out like this for Brett and me, but I like you Coury." Then, from the other side of the pool, "I hope we're not interrupting anything?" It was tough for either Coury or Bart to keep on target, Michael being the spokesperson for he and Rusty. "No, nothing," Coury replies. Michael was used to it, certainly around the ranch now, guys staring at his humongous pecs, "good. Some meeting, eh?" Not which Coury was ignoring Bart, says to Michael, "you and yours seemed to make a quick enough escape?" Rusty had circled around Michael, talking with Coury and not really familiar, "Hi. I'm Rusty." Perhaps he didn't know recollect meeting Bart, "I know. Coury's the person I report to, but you're both of us' boss." Still not used to assuming his new position, "let's keep it simple. Just call me `Rusty'." "Ok. Rusty." >From the meeting, Rusty and Michael had hurried away, changed from official business rags at the barn and then hustled back, wanting to so bad cool off in the pool. "I take it you haven't been in the water, yet?" In a pouty manner, Bart says, "nah. I'm really supposed to be peeling potatoes, so I better get back to it." Exercising his corporate say so, Rusty replies, "Well, since I'm your boss, I order you to forget about potatoes, strip down have a swim with Michael and me!" Rusty's laughter made Bart feel not so bad about missing out on the mountain of potatoes. Instead, he took the boss' invite and `stripped-down'! Before Coury could bat an eye, Bart had tossed his tee shirt on a chair, unbuckled his fake-army fatigues, dropped his pants, "oops! I'm always forgettin'!" Rusty didn't mind, sitting there with his feet in the water, watching Bart turn around, bend over, untie boot laces and then work each leg of pants off. "I guess I better keep my briefs on," he turns around, walks towards where Rusty sits. "Yeah. One of the things brought up at the meeting of the mindless," Rusty laughs. "About?" "Guys running around here in the buff. Now that we have girls and kids around here, we need to put a hold on that stuff." With no other conversation in mind, Bart turns his head to see what Coury is up to. Kind of weird, he's feeling up Michael's pecs. "Um, you don't mind stuff like that happening with your boyfriend?" Rusty did. Choosing wisely, "Hey, over there...I hope that's suntan oil Coury's rubbing on your chest, Michael?" Michael's jaw drops, looking at Coury. They can hear him say, "I hope you didn't think I..." Reason Coury was feeling up Michael's pecs, was provoked by a gym-muscle-stud's way of thinking. Coury had started up the conversation with just that, admiring Michael's contoured chest and how it got that way. Yet, instead of causing commotion, he yells back, "almost finished!" Bart says so only Rusty can hear, "you're not gonna fall for that, are you?" Turning to Bart, Rusty remarks, "yup. I am!" Reporting right away, Michael says to the two, "move!" Bart sway a little to his right, Rusty to his left, Michael plopping himself down in the middle. Before Coury decides to sit, he feels it wise to not get his pants wet, takes off his boots. Before the pants, the shirt comes off. "Isn't he beautiful?" Bart says, in that sweet, eloquent way of thinking, like `I'm in love!' "Yeah, really," Rusty replies, yet glances over his boyfriend's chest! "Hey, you know what?" "What, Michael?" Rusty replies, making fun of him coming up with such an excited idea. "Don't plagiarize me," Michael replies. "It's patronize, which I'm not doing!" "Oh." Sitting down, his ass making a `splat', Coury says, "what's your plan, Michael?" "We should have an exercise club." Having felt `Michael' against his arm for the past few minutes, Bart says, "and you should be our trainer, Michael!" Agreeing, and with the power instilled in him, Rusty declares, "I think it's a great idea. I hereby make Michael head of `Michael's Exercise Club'! Who's in with me?" "I am," Bart says with conviction. Turning and looking at Coury, "and Coury." Not which he wasn't against looking up to Michael for exercise tips, Coury remarks, "I can't think of a better trainer!" With the afternoon construction winding down, work not ending at a certain time, but rather merited by a job completed, others begin to arrive to cool off." % With the full scale meeting of the minds winding down, the gathering was reduced to Marco, Rusty, Shane, Marco's rookie attorney, Aldo Iacono and Jared Krempl, who was slowly working his way through a change of environments, the hospital, to the ranch. For certain, Jared's plan included Marco's sidekick attorney. It was a crying shame Aldo had to dress in a suit and tie, so formal for an informal setting, table at poolside, with a slab for a house fallen down. Mostly, there was `green' all around, which made everyone more comfortable than a stuffy boardroom. Though, when things took a turn towards the better, Shane leaving and conversation between father and son, it singled out his prey! "Hey, Aldo," Jared calls attention when the lawyer starts walking away. "You don't know me, but I know you..Jared Krempl, doctor at the hospital?" "Oh. Hi," Aldo acts shy. "I remember, from when Marco introduced you." `He remembered,' which struck Jared in a nice way, `I wonder why that was?' If it was easy to read a guy's mind, Jared would not have to guess, the reason Aldo looked away, while giving his 4-point speech, for fear his eyes might settle on one hot individual, round the table! "Well, I just thought we should know each other more personal," Jared didn't like how that came out, "I mean, what I meant is, on one to one, instead of as a group?" Aldo had wished Jared did not go on, far as to complicate what could be simpler put, "Oh really? Then I'm glad you decided to call my attention." True love rarely came these days, based on first encounters. It seemed the case, Jared taking it upon himself, to freely walk in Aldo's direction, "really?" "Really," Aldo smiles, sensing he's being a little stoopid. Having walked far, far enough, though as not to be seen, neither would remember later which were the one to walk away from the road, more towards the forested area of the dirt path, but for certain, Jared had been the one to drag Aldo into the forest, necktie as a leash! % Shane had lit out at quite a fast tempo. He had tons of work, which Marco had just dumped in his lap. Instead of just accountant, Shane now wore another hat, `human resources'. In addition to his regular work, Shane had been bucking Marco for a raise. The raise he got, but also added responsibility. So, in the long run, getting into his car, Shane cursed himself out for even bringing up the fact, needing a few extra bucks for all the hours he was putting in. Why did Shane even bother? Little did he expect, when taking on the role of accountant, that there would be a division between `work' and `pleasure'. Shane had been brought up in affluent Basking Ridge, NJ and in his teen years, suffered through living with quite rigid conditions around the Dean household. His father, a corporate attorney for a well known NJ pharmaceutical company, benefitted greatly, from the father's 6-digit salary. Treated better than his sister, was most likely because she was an older sibling. When the `rents found out she preferred life as a lesbian and not homemaker, nor baby-maker for their grandchildren, it put him in the realm of being a `normal' son. Sure, he had to stay in the closet all through high school, but it was a small price to pay, in exchange for being lavished upon with a car, rather large allowance and freedom to go to the city, or out with the boys. It's not like he didn't have pals, in the same predicament as himself. For certain, Shane was not about to go to college and not have a working knowledge of how gay sex went, all the advantages of learning how to pick up guys, learning the do's and don'ts of his interesting `hobby' on the side. Smarter than his sister, Shane even became mates with one of the `lesbians' at school and for the rest of their high school years, faked being boy-and-girlfriend. For certain, in college Shane found his true self, coupling sex with other attributes, which took the edge off his studies. The first couple of parties Marco had at his house, Shane loved putting into practice things which were more in the learning stages of college. In addition to dominant tops, like himself, at the parties were tons of guys trying to catch his eye. It was one of the reasons he didn't mind working for Marco, with the pay scale not what it is back east. Who would dare to argue, when lying on a sofa, glass of champagne in hand, two boys licking at each hairy nip, another two keeping Shane's balls bathed and a maso-dude trying to keep him hard? Shane didn't work out, but lucky for him, had the genes which made it look like he did. Barreled stomach, a defined stripe of dark, ginger-red hair running right down the middle of it. Pecs were completely covered with the ginger stuff, almost disguising his rosy-red nips. Shane was kind of sensitive up there and loved training a boy to properly take care of him, both up top and down below. It not only took the wants of a boy, but a man who knew how to take care of what turned both players on. Some were into taking mind-boggling amounts of pain, staying hard and dripping throughout the ordeal, while others were just working for a deep fuck. Shane knew how to show who was boss, while both got hard and reaped the rewards of one or two hours of getting what they wanted. Call it a cruel streak, but in a dominant mood, he would make a guy not touch themselves, yet demanded lips and tongue on his chest, stomach and beyond. Sometimes Shane would even get a tickle out of making a boy lick his closely-cropped beard. Right now, though, Shane wanted to just kick back and relax. Driving down the mountain, if he should happen to see some lonesome hitchhiker, well that would surely change his mind! Though, instead of the way he was going, the ant-sized dude was walking up the hill. The closer he got, the more Shane thought about the face, being someone he knew. Almost even with the adjacent side of the road, he knew that face. Rolling down his window, Shane uses the phrase which didn't need to go too much further than the asking, "hey, Wyatt, what's up?" Wyatt looks both ways, jogs across, "I was headed up to the ranch to see about a job. Marco? He still there?" "He is," Shane replies. With Wyatt leaning on the sill of his open window, he could see down the driver's shirt, which set off vibes, looking upon the `fabric' covering. "I figure, with the hardware still under investigation," Wyatt tones it down, not which he thought anyone was in the near vicinity, "you know, all the wood and everything else `missing?'" Wyatt laughs, but Shane wasn't humored, thinking more about himself, wanting to get home, shower, slip into something more comfortable...or not at all, "y'know, there's no hurry really, especially since that, a few minutes ago, Marco appointed me human resources manager?" "Great!" Wyatt's whole outlook picked up, "then you're in charge of hiring?" "I am," Shane starts formulating a plan, now that the wheels of his brain are turning, fueled by his balls churning. "That's great. When can I interview?" "Well," Shane replies, having missed out on a hot fuck this afternoon, with Marco hovering over Wyatt's ass, "we could start the process right now?" "Now? Like right this minute?" "Sure. I'd even be willing to give you a lift to my office." Of course, Shane meant the `office' at his apartment, not in Marco's building! "That'd be great," Wyatt says, looping around the back of the car. He always knew, when a car is stopped on a hill, going downhill, best choice is the rear and not the hood side, in case the car loses its breaks. Wyatt knows of it happening, some poor guy getting run down by accident. All the way down the hill, up the road and into his apartment complex, Wyatt gabbed on and on about his credentials, including the unfortunate thing about his employer's `slave ring,' buying drinks for guys who couldn't pay him back, indenturing them, like what happened to himself and Jon. Pulling into the parking lot of his apartment, Shane says, "well, that's quite a story, Wyatt." "Um, I thought we were going to your office?" Slyly put, Shane says, "oh, I thought you knew I meant, my office at home? It is after hours, you know?" Right inside the door of Shane's apartment, he slips off his dress jacket, saying, "do me a favor and hang this in the closet, Wyatt?" "Sure," Wyatt was helpful, opening the closet, right inside the front door. "No, Wyatt, I meant the closet in my bedroom?" "No problem, Shane. Which direction is it in?" "C'mon, I'll show you." They did stop off at the kitchen, Shane grabbing a bottle of champagne out of the fridge. He didn't need the glasses, already in his bedroom. "Wow, this is some place you have here, Shane," the 34-year old former lumberyard worker remarks, glancing over the quite spacious, square, multi-leveled living room. "This way to the bedroom?" Shane leads the way. Following, with Shane's jacket over his arm, when they enter the bedroom, Wyatt says, "and the closet is?" "Over there," Shane directs. "Whoa...I could get lost in here," Wyatt walks into the closet, looking for a hanger. Shane didn't mind, it gave him time to remove his necktie, unbutton his shirt and...and since Wyatt found his way out of the closet, "do me another favor, Wyatt?" "Sure," Wyatt replies. "Help me take my shirt off?" Now that was a little bit wild, something Wyatt has never been asked before, as a request, "uh, what was that?" "You heard right. Come take my shirt off." This time is wasn't a request, Shane purposely making it sound that way. "Okay," Shane didn't see any harm, rather maybe feeling his balls tell him it was all right to do! Facing Shane, Wyatt says, "you wanna turn around?" "No?" Shane says, more like he's flirting. "Oh," Wyatt shows a perplexed look on his face. Then, taking it in stride, "no problem." Moving Shane's shirt over the back of his bare shoulders, Wyatt's balls started ticking faster than passing time. "While you're doing it Wyatt, feel free taste me with your tongue?" "Really?" Wyatt saw it as opportunity. Though, it wasn't that Wyatt didn't have a brain of his own, well knowing why they drove back to a place of privacy, rather than an `office tower'. For Owl Creek, Marco's office, of the people closet to business matters, was the old `Flick' building, renamed `Lawson', after a fallen `Nam warrior, towering over the town at 2-stories high! Right now though, the only architectural value which mattered to Wyatt is what reached to the sky, with Shane diving into the bed, saying as he turns over, spreads legs, "come eat me!" How could Wyatt turn down such an invitation, however, "you want me to take off my clothes?" Fondling his semi-automatic, Shane says, "do it while you're taking care of this!" Wyatt was on it. % Ten minutes after Michael set himself upon the kitchen staff, jotting down some vital information on his `Jimmy Olsen' pad, he sensed he was `in the way.' Antonio's delivery of herbs and spices had shown up at the front gate, needing to `sample the goods.' That left Dave at the sink. "So-o-o, I guess that's all the info I need," Michael says, closing the pocket-sized pad in hand, clicking his pen and pocketing it. It was like that type of situation, when dead silence prevails and the third person in the room gets the idea he's in the way, which is why Michael leaves, saying, "okay, well I guess I'll see you guys around dinner time...uh, make sure my plate is squeaky clean?!" Laughing at his own joke, Michael lifts the tent flap and is on his way. Of course, with his duty done, to collect information, regarding names and where at the ranch the person has fit in, Michael did make a note, Dave too cute for the role of dishwasher. Stopping and thinking about it, mulling it over while rubbing his chin he forgot to shave this morning, Michael did get the impression Dave and Antonio work well together, so vocally opinions, "why grease the oil, if it ain't squeekin'!" Closing a page over his clipboard, Michael reaches in both pockets, pulling out a pad and pen. In a click he's writing, crossing out, jotting down... "What a cute little note pad!" "Oh, it's only you!" Michael turns around. "Only me?" Rusty says. "Really, Michael?" >From standing there, Michael walks over to his lover, while folding up business and pocketing it. Redeeming himself, he says, "of course not!" His kiss, lingering on and on, told Rusty the pilot light hadn't gone out. "So, how much data have you collected `Mr. Right-hand-man'?" For Michael, data was tallied on a printed out spreedsheet. Flipping through pages on his clipboard, "let's see, I've been around to," starting from the top of the first page, "Chad, Thomas, Robert, or Rob," he giggles, "he's not picky on who you want to call him. Adam, Duke, George, Haydn, Dennis, Dave an-n-nd," Michael turns the page, "and Antonio, but he had to run off, so I didn't get much on him." "Well, it's a def," Rusty tells him, "you know more cowboys around here than I do!" "So," Michael says, like weaving his lover around his little pinky, "do I pass your job requirements?" "I dunno yet. Have to see what your strong points are in bed tonight!" Each night since meeting, which has been about a week, their time together has progressed, until they lay between the sheets, experiencing more than kissing and cuddling. Michael dares to say, "maybe tonight will the big one?" In a cheerful mood, Rusty says, "depends on how big you make it!" They were laughing and joking, but if it went on too long, both knew they would not be able to wait until tonight! Despite the fact the pair were feeling a little horny, Rusty stood by his guns, "too bad we had to go and agree with dad, at the meeting." "Oh, you mean the fine print, or clause, `thou shall not make whoopee, while on the clock?'" It made Rusty laugh, from just the tone of voice, and the way Michael could say something funny, wearing a straight face, "something like that." "Well," Michael leans his shoulder against a tree, crosses his legs almost at the ankle, "he didn't say anything about talking about it?" "When I need a loophole, I know who to find!" Which meant Rusty was all for it. The reason Michael presented this, is because he had a dude in mind to gossip about, "what do you think about Shane?" Playing Michael up, Rusty says, "I thought he looked sharp." "Not exactly what I meant?" Michael steadies himself on his feet, walking on with his lover. "I know," Rusty says, bumping his shoulder against Michael's, like a love-tap to the ass. "Well, what did you think?" "Shane?" Rusty goes bonkers, "would love to see him naked and sprawled out on a sheet!" "Really?" "Why? Were you thinking any differently?" Rusty had to `look,' see if he were getting a non-verbal reaction out of Michael! "Um, it would take more than visualizing it in my head, to get that kind of motion?" Rusty laughs, "yeah, me too." Regardless of their thinking, Michael brings up, "would be nice, meeting Shane at the pool sometime, not in his spiffy business meeting suit?" Unknown to Michael, or anyone, at their poolside meeting, Rusty had Shane `undressed,' beyond the speedo. He just pictured the 34-year old as `packing', big bulging balls, all supporting that hunk of a bearded-man. First chance he got to take a whiz, Rusty would find out if anything leaked out! If either them remained on topic, off the business slate, they would need to get lost in the forest. But not right after Rusty's dad stressed the need for everyone to be on the same page, like from the Wall Street Journal, not JustUsBoys! "Who's next on the list?" "Um," Michael quickly flips through his pad, "uh, the victory garden and henhouse." "Henhouse? Since when is there hens on the ranch? This is supposed to be a horse ranch!" Michael takes the fifth, "I dunno. I only follow what they give me to work on." "Oh," Rusty hadn't a clue what to follow up with! Rightfully, it was Rusty whom handed Michael the layout for his job prospectus, checking up on who's who and where they were employed on the farm. Marco had wondered how Rusty, a 19-year old `kid,' just getting his nose wet in the business world, could keep up. Michael, having put 2 years into military college, at 20-years old, felt more ahead than some other guys his age. Even though labeled a `kook' of sorts, Michael was more on the ball with his studies and was proving himself, on top of things, organization, "so," he places an arm over his fellow business partner's shoulder, "ready for the henhouse experience?" "Why not?" Rusty replies, the two walking off, arm over arm. More like buds and not lovers, business slipped through the loopholes of his mind, Rusty overcome by the muskiness of Michael's armpit, plus the sensation of his big pec rubbing against the side of his meager chest muscle. With intent, to keep Michael from noticing, Rusty dives a hand into pants pocket, to rearrange things! No sooner had they set on the path, it led the pair to an opening in the forest, "well, here we are!" "Wow!" Rusty is overwhelmed, "When did this all happen?" He did connect with Hoot, seeing the barn flanked by chicken wire and tall, narrow structures. On the far right side of the barn was a smaller building, more tin than wooden. Around the outside of the area was more fencing. "Amazing, isn't it?" Michael calls attention to what was and what is. "It sure is," Rusty says, though his mind was on the dude, having bent over to assemble a piece of fencing. Standing, the cowboy's shirt, which had been pulled from his pants, rode back down over his ass-crack! When he stood, took off his cowboy hat, the dude pulls a light blue bandana from his right, rear pocket and proceeds to wipe the sweat off his brow. It was food for conversation, Rusty saying, "I think that means something, but it slips my mind right now." Michael was a good student at the military college, which is why he knew every gesture on the Hanky Code Chart, handy when it came to visiting a `straight' bar, wanting some gay action! "Light blue, that means a guy is a good cocksucker. Dark pink, on the right ass-pocket, a dude wants.." "His nips worked over!" Rusty raised his right brow, a smirk on his face, his father walking in, for him, an opportune moment to use the vocabulary he's been building for years. "Of course you had to show up at the perfect moment, `dad'?" Not at all mad at his father, Rusty fills his boyfriend in, "y'see, Michael, dad's on the up and up with this stuff, because he's been `involved' in it for years." In public, nor private, Marco did not mind it a bit, if any guy brought up his special hobby, "that's right," he gravitates towards Michael, "and let me guess what your specialty is, since you've mentioned, `dark pink'?" If this were the appropriate place, Marco might have reached out and touched, mercilessly twisting and tweaking Michael's perky, protruding nips. Now, not only was this not the place, being Rusty's father, well things were going good for him and not even the best fishing trip in the world could undo what he wanted to do to Michael right now! Michael keep silent right, not knowing what the father and son knew. Certainly, if Marco knew what the colors they talked about, entailed, well he would certainly push for son-in-law status. As for Rusty, he play it cool, though knowing how sensitive Michael's nips were, that at a touch, it could mess with his cock, turning it into a massive erection, "and you're here, because why, dad?" "Oh! Right," Marco sobers up, "I just sent you an email of a list of new hires," his eyes grab one more peek at the perky nubs, "which I'm sure will keep you busy, making the rounds." Then Marco issued a short `bye' and hightailed it outta there. If he remained any longer, he was certain he could experience some `leakage.' "Well?" Rusty says to Michael. "What?" Then thinking he was on the same page, Michael questions, "oh, so what do you want to know more about, the blue or the pink?" "Um, what I was thinking is," Rusty speaks in a joking manner, "are you going to look at your emails?" Right now, Michael's tablet focused a spreadsheet of employees, where they were employed and other details, like if they were allergic to anything. "Um, like, I ain't got it," Michael was so cute in his apology. "I'm more used to doing things long-hand?" "Hmm," Rusty assesses the situation, "the hand might come in handy later!" Michael couldn't get past Marco's visit, as they checked out the henhouse. He even whipped up a quick fantasy; while doing chin-ups. In the down position, he had Marco holding each of his nips between fingers and thumbs. When his chin moved up, oh man could his balls tingle, churn, nips stretched downwards, the pull making him feel like he was in heaven. "Did you get that, Michael?" Suddenly, forced out of his reverie, Michael replies, "get what?" Knowing what held Michael's attention, Rusty forgave him, but would needle him later on the issue, "Kira says Katrina grew up on a farm, knows hens and eggs, it's her job to.." "Who's Katrina?" Rusty could not deny Michael's pecs and the spots which dotted each, very alluring. However, this was business and instead of repeating himself, "after you open the email and transfer Katrina's information to your spreadsheet, then you'll find out who she is. In the meantime, Michael, could you please pay attention?" Rusty couldn't bust Michael's chops without smiling. He could have been a big boss, like his father, but everything about Michael, Rusty thought was cute. "Gee, I'll certainly try?" Therefore, how could Rusty possibly have stayed angry at his boyfriend, for any misdemeanor? Any other time in his life, Rusty was just another flower on the wall. At times like, walking into the dining room, with Michael, he sure wasn't the one with the bulked out, muscled pecs. Yet, being close to the one that was, made him feel special. Around the corner, from where Kira was working on the fence, Rusty approaches the worker pointed out to him, "you must be Katrina?" Like Michael can be, again he avoids shaking Katrina's hand, but not for a bad reason. In a high-pitched voice he exclaims, "oh my, will you look at this...it's a baby!" Out in the yard, near the hen houses, a playpen was set up, tent poles at each corner and tarp placed overhead. Inside, a 3-month old baby boy crawled around, until Michael scooped him up in his arms. "Isn't he adorable?" Michael says in a high-pitched voice, bringing him over to where Rusty and Katrina were conversing. "Michael, you're supposed to ask, before picking up a baby?" Katrina was understanding, "it's okay. If you trust him, then I do too." "What's his name?" "Martin," Katrina replies. Then, Rusty became the `third-party', standing there as Michael found all about Martin. Growing up on a farm, not far from Owl Creek, Katrina had a future ahead of her, working on the family farm. Graduating from high school, she had high hopes of going to college, achieving a degree which would give her a career of writing. Someday maybe she would write a book. Her best friend, Glenn was her former `lover', that is to say, a very understanding guy, who fell for her, but when finding out which way her gate swung, was not taken aback by her being a lesbian. He hadn't a problem, playing the part of a fake boyfriend to throw everyone off the track, including her parents. That's just the way Glenn was, a truly nice guy! Nearing the second year of her senior year, Katrina started talking `college' with her parents, finding out there were no funds to enroll her. Things became more complicated, when her `boyfriend' and best mate went off to college, leaving her. Though it wasn't a bad thing, because she got to see Glenn whenever he was home for the holidays, and summer. Meantime, not only was she working at the family farm, but Katrina decided she liked it, being many instances she could very well work into a story about her life. In particular, she was put in charge of the hen houses. For the first time in her life, she was responsible for something. Then, one spring her aunt, uncle and their children came to visit. Maude could hardly be considered a `child', at 19, yet her siblings were in their early teens. Regardless, Katrina and her older cousin got to know each other very well. More so, when alone in the barn! Though, as life has a habit of doing, when falling in love, it can be left as a temporary situation, as when Maud's family left, after two weeks. With that though, it was not too much of a let down for Katrina, Glenn coming home on spring break. Well, it had always been her mother's vision, Katrina and Adam tying the knot, so she paid much attention to her daughter and her `suitor'. Second evening Glenn hit town, Katrina's mother came out to the barn, about a half hour later. Listening in, rather than hearing rumors of a marriage proposal, she literally fell on her ass, hearing Katrina tell Glenn what happened during her niece, the cousin's visit! A double whammy, Katrina's mother picked herself up, after falling on her bum a second time and ran to the house. A few minutes later, Katrina's father was en route to the barn. Not only was Glenn verbally assaulted, punched and thrown out, for pretending, but Katrina as well. Little did she know, her mother was on the phone to sister, while her father was manhandling Glenn, literally throwing him off the property. At least Katrina was allowed to pack a bag. Fortunately, her father went off to the pub, her mom still at home. Little did Katrina know, her mom wasn't too bent out of shape, saying Katrina was still `her little girl.' While hugging Katrina, her mom says, "but you know your father?" "Did you call Aunt Helen?" Katrina was sure she didn't! "Not yet. I'm not so sure I ever will." Being gracious, Katrina says, "if you do, you can tell them it was me who came onto Maud." A good sport, Katrina's mother says, "I'll do nothing of the kind!" Things turning from bad to worse, Katrina thought it a good idea to leave. For certain, being home and not at college, it was a one-way ticket to being a farmer's wife. She had no intentions of marrying a `man' and the idea of having a `wife', well that would not go over big. Though, with circumstances the way they are now, it was either hit the road, or stay around and subject herself to her father's wrath. At 20-years old, she was on the road, traveling around. First stop was visiting Glenn at college. She loved the atmosphere, but right now, it was not feasible for her to choose it. Glenn was sweet, sneaking her into a friend's dormitory room, until she got caught! Though, Katrina picked up another chapter for her book, the security guard being so sweet, taking her home, instead of reporting to the campus security office. Little did she know, until learning one of life's lessons, things do not appear what they seem. That, sometimes people are not all they appear to be. That night, when the guard's husband tried raping her, she put all her hen-fighting skills to use. Unfortunately, she was not strong enough to fight such a big man and had to live with it. Learning the security guard who rescued her, had all intentions of allowing it to happen, Katrina was sure she dislocated her jaw, before leaving the house! She thought of returning home, after finding out she was pregnant, but why make an awful situation worse? Over the next two years of wandering the Pacific Northwest, Katrina kept a journal, assuring herself that one day she would fit all the words together and tell about where her journeys have taken her. For certain, being found by Kira, outside the town liquor store, would not be the last chapter! Dropping the last detail of her hitching the northwest, Michael responds, "oh, so Glenn's the father? Like, how did that happen?" Katrina had kept in touch with Glenn and they worked out a story, whereas Glenn was the father. Too, when Martin was old enough, Katrina hoped there would be a father to meet! Michael loved standing there, listening to Katrina's story and watching holding the baby, moving him around when he almost starts to cry and then quieted him by tossing him in the air. He was a natural, so Rusty thought! Eventually, she returned to see Glenn graduate from college. She had mentioned, avoiding a certain security guard, of which Glenn said she didn't have to worry, that she wasn't the only victim scammed. In the end, when arrested, the husband and wife blamed each other, until the whole scam came out, the hospital wondering why the husband had so many `cat scratches' on his face, arms and chest. "Wow!" Michael exclaims. "So, you're a hero!" Katrina didn't think she was, "I'm no hero. Unfortunately I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But sometimes we think something is so bad, when it turns out we become the victim for something good coming out of something bad. Are you confused?" Rusty gags, "Michael's always confused, but I get it!" Michael smiles, saying to Rusty, "Oh, you'll get it all right. Later!" >From her own story, Katrina turns the tables, "so, are you two friends? Boyfriends?" "More," Michael boldly states, having calmed Glenn's baby down, lulling him in the cradle of his soft pecs. "That was very nice of Glenn to do...shows character," Rusty finds conversation. "Call me stupid, old-fashioned, but being my own woman, I wanted to stay around here and prove to my family I can be who I am and still the same person, loving, kind, all that stuff. Glenn and me, we might have been a little drunk in thinking about calling Martin his baby, but I thought it would soften my parents' hearts, walking in with their little grandson." Of the few times Michael can be serious, this is one of them, "don't bet on it!" "Michael," Rusty says, like he's ready to condemn his lover's thoughts, "Martin's asleep. Why don't you go put him down?" While Michael dropped Martin into the playpen, Rusty says, "You have to work that out for yourself, but far as I'm concerned, you can stay here at the ranch for as long as you need to." Popping up, Michael says, "I second it!" Not something Katrina planned, "thanks, but I think Kira has taken care of that!" Rusty was glad Kira had paved the way, not having to explain anything more. Michael, coming back from the playpen, says, "y'know, forget about what I said, about not betting on it. On second thought," he returns to his jovial self, "even though they might still be non-accepting, you can at least show them what they are going to be missing!" Taking Michael by the arm, "and if you're ever in need of a babysitter," Rusty points a finger to the top of his lover's head! Rusty had decided the barn was not a suitable place to stay any longer, especially after Kira asked who's bed it was in the barn loft! "What about Hoot?" Michael asks. "Evan, he texts me every day, sometimes twice a day and tells me how they are getting along so well." "Hmm," Michael ponders, "I wonder who's on top?" "Ewe!" Rusty slaps Michael in the ass, hard. "Owch! That hurt so damn good!" "You're a sick man, Michael!" "I know!" >From the grotesque, to what they have together, Rusty had to mention the two having a baby someday. It was the first time Michael boasted about his big pectorals, "yeah, I could hold a coupla-of'em right here," he cups hands over his own bulked-out chest. Michael's thumbs were over his nips, it meant more than food for thought! "Hmm, maybe you can breast feed them too!" "Now you're grossin' me out!" "Me grossing you out, eh?" Rusty smiles. "C'mon, `dad', let's go count chicks." Laughing before he joked about it, Michael says, "now, you know I'm only into cowboys!" "I meant the `feathery' kind!" Michael tailing behind, "Oh, right. I knew that!" % 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.