Date: Wed, 16 Mar 2016 20:38:12 +0000 From: TCHASE MCPHEE Subject: ?JoLLy RaNCHeRs? 04 % This work of fiction is set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons of habitats, governmental or non-governmental areas, farmhouses, nor barns. % 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. % 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 their own laws and conscience. The pages of this story contain `adult material', intended for an `adult audience.' Bypass this warning at your own risk! % 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" 04 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee ^ 0 ^ % Rusty went back to the ranch that night, instead of reconnecting with Adam. One thing he learnt, about the family attorney, Marco Veneziano, he was neither that scary, nor a mean son-of-a... not when he offered to loan him his car. Though, Rusty thought Ricky might have `twisted his arm', promised something to him, to lend it. If in a more cheerful mood, Rusty might have thought have drag racing down the main road to the ranch, doing what any teenager would, seeing how the Corvette could do on the open road. When Rusty got out of the car, parked almost in front of the house, it didn't seem quite fair to him, hearing hands whooping it up, when his father, their employer, lay dying in a hospital bed. Instead of lamenting, which he had enough grief of his own, he thought about being at the restaurant earlier, Ricky, Rosa, Kira, Tommy, how the whole family, regardless of where or when they came into the clan, they all had a happy-go-lucky time, lending each support. Except Gonzo, but he was besides the point. Then Rusty thought back to the reason he had to skip out on Adam and their new friends. Even though sad and dispirited, whether his father heard him or not, at least Rusty felt good about saying `I love you', which in his mind, forgave his father fall all the disappointing times of his life. He had keyed the lock, opened the door an inch or so, but left it ajar, turning right around, Rusty plopping his ass down in a wooden bench on the porch. Thinking on it, he condoned himself for not making up with his father sooner. After all, as his life had traveled full circle, here he was at the place he liked the most. Hearing a horse make noise, he was reminded of what Ricky had said about where Hoot came into the picture. Before his thoughts ran too wild, a black suv pulls up and parks, right in front of the old hitching post. Right off, Rusty knew, `This isn't gonna be good.' Ricky steps from the driver's side, walks behind the vehicle, "Hey, there." "No, don't tell me," Rusty didn't want to hear it, but realizing he could not avoid it, "no, wait, you can tell me, but just be...gentle?" he looks up. Sitting right down next to Rusty, Ricky says, "I think you already know?" Ricky was right, Rusty saying, "I thought, hearing it from you, it'd be different?" In his right and righteous mind, Ricky was there to lend support. Taking Rusty's hand, he says, "Sorry. Your father's gone." If this was a joke, Ricky might've had added, `and he's not coming back!' Instead of extending himself, Rusty turns, slips his right arm in between Ricky's left arm and ribs, places a hand over the right shoulder, turns his bod, Rusty hugging as best he can, chest to chest. When their heads met, side by side, both of their wide-brim hats fell off. Ricky was able to catch his, but Rusty, not which he really cared, his fell over them both and behind, balancing on the back of the bench and the wall. "I'm so, so sorry, Rusty." They cuddle. >From out of his soul, with regret, Ricky's voice cracks, "I only wish my father and I could had ended on better terms." He made the gesture with his hips, like he was ready to fuck hard, but Ricky was reaching for his handkerchief in his right pocket, "Here." Rusty backed off from hugging, to accept Ricky's snot-rag, "Thanks." He blew his nose. "Um, I won't be needing that back!" If in a joking mood, Rusty would have laughed, but he just kept wiping, snorting and wiping again. Ricky wasn't so sure this was the right time for it, but he sensed he had to help pull Rusty out of his grief, "By the way, Adam went back to Tommy's place. You really don't have anything to worry about. Adam's just giving Tommy a hand at packing." At one time, in the duration Rusty had known Adam, there had been question to whether they would develop a friendship or more. He knew, if it didn't materialize, there would be someone to fall back on, "Would I be asking too much, if I asked you to stay with me for a while? I just feel weird, being here, while he's...not?" It did volley back and forth in Ricky's mind, `like how would that go,' but he couldn't just up and leave the poor kid, "Of course." The sun baked the earth during daylight hours, but after it sunk over the horizon, the air sustained a chill without all that solar heat. "I'm starting to get the shivers. Is it okay if we go inside?" Really, Ricky had thought he would bestow the bad news on Rusty and make a getaway. Sometimes cooked up plans have a way of not conforming to the reality of situations, "Of course. Whatever makes you comfortable." They sat on the old sofa, a wooden frame with six big leather cushions. From years of use, Rusty's father had patched it up with duct tape. One time Rusty had said it looked decorative, the black patches against dark brown. Seeing the total change of heart, Ricky says, "I want to let you know, your father, in his last hours, did not suffer. He passed away in his sleep." Being Ricky was a decade older, Rusty sensed a presence of sort, like he had been held by his father. Sitting next to him on the sofa, "Thanks Ricky. I really appreciate that you didn't just tell me and run off." "Nonsense. We're friends, aren't we and that's what friends are supposed to do?" Ricky gave Rusty's hand a squeeze, for reinforcement. "I really didn't have many, just one at boarding school." Rusty then feels fully aware, "What am I gonna do without my father?" he looks up at Ricky, taking on a slightly different appearance without his hat. Having already thought about it, Ricky knew Rusty didn't have a sole in the world to rely on now and even though they had literally just met, felt an attachment, "First thing we're going to do is get you to bed and then tomorrow, I'll call and make sure you're up and..." Rusty didn't expect Ricky to stay all night, "You're not leaving now, are you?" "No," Ricky says, waving a hand, like telling a dog to stay down, "I'll hang around," he wasn't sure when, "until Adam walks in?" "Thanks," Rusty returns the hand grip. "You don't know what it means to have someone to count on." "Uh, with Mama Rosa and 10 siblings, I think I do?" This time Ricky smiled, which did make Rusty smile back, "I guess." "So, why don't I put you to bed and if you need it, give you something to calm your nerves?" When Ricky stood up, Rusty caved, head falling into the warm cushion, sat on. Though, the hand Ricky was holding, came along with him, when he stood, "I think a long night's sleep will do you good." Boosting himself off the sofa with one hand, Rusty agrees, "I guess so." The farmhouse was old, but not decrepit, though retained the rustic look. Stairway all wood, from the pole and railing, to the steps they took up, they squeaked underfoot. At the top of the stairs, Ricky asks, "Door #1, 2 or 3?" After the top step, Rusty leads to the right, "Number 4." Risky does a recap, left to right, noticing he miscounted, "Where did door #4 come from?" It went right over Rusty's head. Still, their hands were cemented, one leading the other to the end of the long hallway. Walking through, Rusty flicked a switch and various lamps around the room lit up. "Nice," Ricky says, even though the place looked a little disheveled, clothes hanging over a chair, papers next to a laptop, bed unmade. Turning a lamp on a night table, on, Rusty says, "You can turn the `big' light off." "Big light?" Ricky turns half-circle, looking for it on the wall, the same wood as the rest of the room. With the light off, the room diminished in size dramatically. Eyes back on the bed, he spots Rusty lying on it, head on the pillow. "You're not going to sleep in your clothes, are you?" Again, if this were a different time of Rusty's life, he might have joked about it, instead, "I guess." "Well, at least take your boots off." Rusty made no signs of life, other than try kicking the heel of one boot, with the toe of the other. When the boot didn't move, Ricky snickers, "Oh all right," like Rusty had asked him to climb on the bed and help out! The bed was at least full sized, but wading on his knees to where Rusty's feet were situated, was not much of a hassle, other than to steady himself. Apparently this was not a new mattress, so it was a little `sinky' in some places and Ricky had to be on his guard not to fall to one side, nor the other. Woozy, Rusty lay there with his pillow over his head, wanting this day to go away. When he feels his boots being tinkered with, he uncovers his eyes, "Hey, what're you doing?" Pompous attitude, Ricky says, "Don't worry. I'm only taking your boots off. I wouldn't take advantage of you at a time like this!" "Oh," Rusty replies, "I didn't think so." Balancing himself on his elbows, digging into the bed, Rusty watches as Ricky remove his second boot. Backing off the bed, he stands. Right off, Rusty gets the impression, "I thought you weren't going to run off?" He didn't want to look at his watch and trying to find a clock in the dark wasn't possible. Ricky did remember leaving the hospital around 8pm, so it had to be about an hour later, "No. I still have an hour or so." Looking up at Ricky, just standing there, probably ready to whistle a happy tune, Rusty says, "You can still sit?" Searching for a chair in the dark, Ricky stumbles over it, "Dammit!" Taking the lamp off the night table, Rusty uses it for a torch, light shining out of the top of the lampshade, "Are you okay, Ricky?" he focuses the beam on the floor, searching. "Fine," he gets up pulling the chair with him, "just a bruised shin." Showing the first signs of recovery, Rusty says, "I suppose, being a doctor, you can look at it yourself?" "One of the fringe benefits," Ricky says, dragging the chair over to where he once stood. When sat, Rusty says, "I feel like you're a million miles away." On purpose, Ricky didn't sit on the bed, but not wanting to cause Rusty any more grief than he had, he gets up and sits next to the bootless feet, "How's this?" "Better," Rusty says, looking down the bed. "So, where do you have to run off to?" Thinking on it, Ricky felt like an ass, saying, "Well, I'm not on duty at the hospital. I suppose...nowhere." "Then, can you spend some of the night here? At least until I fall asleep?" It then occurs to Ricky, he owed Marco for lending his Corvette to Rusty. Though, for some weird reason, he couldn't rush off so soon, "Sure. Until you fall asleep." Fortunately there was a railing along the foot of the bed. After about fifteen minutes shot by, Ricky moves his butt down, to lean against it. `Un'-fortunately, it was as old as the house, coming loose. With a cracking sound and a crash, Ricky goes tumbling off the end of the bed. Rusty was almost asleep, comes alive and sits up. Being the bed lost its front legs, where the guardrail at the foot was, he's propelled forward, in a tumble. He clung to the bedding, but then goes into a sideways roll, which makes him seem like rolling up in a rug. He's not sure where he came to a stop. Wherever it was, is wasn't such a bad place, probably the cushion falling off the chair. Only the top half of Rusty's bod was wound up in the sheets, so when Ricky finally works his way to the light switch on the wall, doubles back, there's not much of the mummy to undress! "What are you doing up there?" Rusty looks up at Ricky's face. Instead of a direct answer, Ricky says, "This place is dangerous!" Regardless, the breaking of the bed had been a diversion for Rusty. Sitting there, he found his own way out of being raveled up in the sheet, pulling it off overhead, much like taking off his tee shirt. Thing is, his tee didn't separate, stripped off with the whole bunch of bedding! Ricky, sometimes he just can't help being funny, "Too bad it wasn't wrapped around your waist!" Stripped to the waist, Rusty sits there, reaching up, "Are you going to give me your hand or stand there and ogle at me?" Ricky reaches out and takes Rusty's hand, giving him a launch, "It's too dark in here to `ogle'!" Even though Ricky wasn't on duty, he had on a button down shirt. Only difference from being casual, he wasn't wearing a white v-tee underneath. Used to how dark the room could be, even with the switch switched on, Rusty says, "You've lost a button." "Where?" Ricky looks down at himself. "When I was getting up, I could see your treasure trail. Look there!" Smirking, Ricky says, "My, aren't we the observant one?" "You know, I'm not feeling so wicked right now. You can go if you want?" Secretly, Ricky didn't want to go, not with being faced with Rusty's light, rusty-covered pecs and a strip from midchest, on down, "Really?" Then, turning around, facing the broken bed, Rusty sinks back into the much, "Oh man, who's going to fix the bed?" "Well, can't you sleep in one of the other rooms?" Thinking on it, like how his father was the handyman and his bed happened to be behind door #2, Rusty's butt falls into the chair, "I dunno. I guess I can figure something out." "You know what I think would be your best bet?" Sitting there, Rusty was almost eye-to-eye with the gap in Ricky's shirt, "Oh, there it is." "Where's what?" Rather than say where the button popped off, Rusty says, "Your treasure trail." Because he slouching a little, the fibers of Ricky's bellyhole trail fed itself through the opening, "Forget-about-it. I got an idea." "I hope it's good," Rusty replies. For some strange reason, Rusty could not contain himself. Ricky had not done a good job tucking himself in and a guy's treasure trail was a big turn on for him, especially striped down a guy with a natural tan. "Why don't we go to my place? Being I haven't moved out of the old apartment, some of the others will still be there. We share, you know?" "I know. Tommy told us." If he wasn't right back where he started, instead of bright and jovial, Rusty might have said something about Ricky `kicking him out.' Not which he didn't enjoy the sightseeing, Ricky says, "Why don't you put a shirt on and throw some clothes in a bag?" "Okay." Ricky waited. He was afraid, if he left Rusty, he might get too tied up in his memories and either change his mind or just take too long getting ready. It was nice, while Rusty packed some clothes and things, he left putting a tee on until last. Ricky did sink into a daydream, thinking how pissed Marco was, when he phoned to tell him he was going to be delayed, but if he didn't show by 8, he wasn't coming at all. It made Ricky think back to two years ago, when he was a rookie doctor at the hospital in town. Not perplexed at all, he knew, when a guy stare at another dude long enough, 9 out of 10 times, it would be, `you're gay, right?'. Or, if a guy was sure he was sure, would just walk over to ya, put a hand behind the scalp and close in for a kiss. With Marco, he came in for a consultation. What for, Ricky could not guess, with a perfect chart in front of him, sitting behind his desk. Later on, Ricky would find out, Marco had paid one of his tricks to call him at a certain time. What was said over the airwaves was not important. Marco stood, tabbed off his phone, pocketed it, saying on his way out, `My number's in my chart. Call me!' >From that time on, not only had they become semi-secret, occasional lovers, but Marco did much to get him situated in the town, not which his own family wasn't supportive. >From a sexual perspective, Marco's idea of fun was a little on the kinky side. When he and Ricky met up for an evening of tension release, there was always a minimum of `4.' Not only did Marco find it sexually arousing to have a dude, of any age, pamper him, but loved watching another man in the same position, much like looking in a mirror. Some college boys, they'd do anything for a buck and Marco used this to the full extent, seeing how far he could go, or rather how far the fratboy would. Ricky, he wasn't into it. When it came time, for some of that kinky stuff, he bowed out. Against even contributing, he wasn't about to join Marco in filling a water glass to the brim with piss, then watching him place 50 bucks on the table, to see if it was worth the money for his trick to drink it down. Even though he was a doctor and numerous times had a patient wet the bed, to Ricky it was, `icky'! If the trick Marco hired for him wanted to stay, he was kind enough to get out his little black book and allow Ricky to choose a name and number. A very organized index, the black book was first broken down into two sections; kink and n/kink. First time Marco allowed Ricky to scrutinized his black book, it stirred not only Ricky's loins, but imagination, wondering how many years it took to compile. Versatile in nature, Ricky would sometimes like an older top, bear-type or muscled, optional. He said he wasn't into kink, but sometimes Ricky didn't mind being a bitch-boy, wield the whip, figuratively, dishing out orders, where he wanted a pair of lips to go... Thinking on it right now, that one boy whom really stoked up his jollies... "Ricky, are you with me?" Like fumbling with his hands, Ricky was now doing with his words, "I...ah...um...I'm right here...what do you need?" Then, Ricky realizes why he was being asked that question. Rusty had gathered everything, stuffed into a backpack, had slipped on a shirt and hauled the pack over his shoulder, "For us to go?" "Sure." Feeling he needed an alibi, "I was just thinking about one of my patients." In reality, it wasn't a lie, Marco making himself a `patient' before it happened the other way around. Truthfully though, Marco was never sick a day in his life, healthy and strong. For a 40-year old man, Ricky's second meet up with Marco, after dialing his number, was a prediction of living a long life. In the car, on the way over, Rusty was not totally himself. Call it premonition, when Ricky drove through the unlatched gate opening, "I got so out of the loop with my father, I didn't even know he had turned it into a resort." Snugly, Ricky says, "They call it communication." "Right," Rusty thinks on it, "my fault." "How so?" Ricky asks, though his `shrink-abilities' kicking in, could answer his own question, knowing mostly what he learned about the father and son, from Marco. Just like he thought, it was as if Rusty was reading his mind, "Being hassled over being sent away to boarding school, not knowing what was going to happen to Hoot and everything else that happened before. If only he told me about his cancer, about the chemo, I could've been more supportive." Ricky knew this would sound cold, but sometimes with a patient it made them dummy-up, snap out of it, realize stuff about themselves and others around them, "Knowing or not knowing your father had cancer, should not have made a difference!" `Wow, that sounded cold,' Rusty thought, but before he reacts, thinks deep down inside. Just what he was getting at, surfaces, "You're right." More deliberation, "I'm nineteen, Ricky. Do you think it's too late for me to...get to know people, you know...read them...be better at interpreting their feelings and emotions, responding to them?" "Nineteen, eh?" Ricky shuffles the thoughts around, moving the spittle around in his mouth, like drooling over a 9-incher, "I think it's possible. Thing is, you have to listen more. Like, my patients in the hospital. When I have the time, I'll stand there and listen, even if what they are telling me, has more to do with a wife who's passed away, or a college student who's worried about acing an exam next week. It's a gift to instantly analyze something like that and then come back with the right words, which will not offend." Rusty asks, "Like, how does a person get to be like that?" Ricky rattles off a few vocabulary words, "Tolerance, self-restraint, kindness, calmness and then reacting with perseverance. In other words think about what the other person is trying to say and then respond appropriately. Let me give you a tip, it doesn't come easy. It takes a while to develop a sense of tenacity and resolve, but the first step is to listen to the other person." "What if you say the wrong thing to a person?" "You could be wrong in your response, but that's why it takes time to figure out the right thing to say. First step is to be around people, listen and learn. Sometimes when I'm at a convention, I'll stand around with a circle of colleagues and not say a thing, just listen. And then..." Ricky wasn't saying the first thing he thought of, picking out which doctors would make good cocksuckers, or had a fine specimen to lodge between the lips or ass... "Then..." which coincided with a stop sign in the road. "Wait, you were going to say something else," Rusty stops Ricky from talking. Ricky didn't need to back up in thinking, but instead tried to get past it, "I don't remember what I was going to say," he claimed, hoping it would cause them to move on. "Oh." It seemed like Rusty had accepted the blank in his thoughts. At the first syllable of continuing on his tirade, Rusty cuts him off again, "No, the same thing back at the house. I bet you didn't hear a word of what I was saying, while packing my bag?" It seemed for Ricky himself, he had all the answers, when laying out the fabric for dealing with people, reading their emotions and responding. With a ten-year difference between himself and Rusty, "Y'know, I've heard over and over, my older patients saying, `kids today are smarter than I was their age.' Must be true!" Not sure if he got it or not, like, how they got to this and where it should go, Rusty sums it up, "Sounds complicated." Thinking it could be, for a person in Rusty's situation, suddenly being handed thoughts and ideas, which could be constituted as after the fact, when if he knew what they were, some of this pent up emotion could have been ironed out. However, some things present an opening of sorts, for other things to be said, "By the way, I gather you were alone in protesting going off to boarding school?" Rusty stares, "I didn't even know you then, Ricky?" A short giggle, Ricky says, "Yeah. Shame, huh?" If he did know Rusty, he would have offered to take the lad off the old man's hands! "Yeah," Rusty did reflect on it, for the first time in his life, having a father-figure for advisement in rainbow of life and what it brings. "What I wanted to convey, is you had an ally?" This sent Rusty's mind reeling, trying to think of one person in his life who could possibly fit those boots. It couldn't have been anyone from school, nor the rodeo club. He wasn't close to anyone, "Who?" Rather than give up a name, Ricky goes roundabout, "I know you think of the ranch attorney as this evil, snake-eyed, devious person..." "Marco," Rusty exclaims, "an ally?" Smiling, Ricky says, "Marco did try to convince your father it a very bad idea, sending you off to boarding school." This really threw a wrench into Rusty's thinking, of Marco Veneziano as this devil-may-care man, ever since he was young. One thing which stuck in his mind, as of late, Ricky speaking good of him, "And you would know?" he stare at Ricky with pouty lips. "Ugh," Ricky slips from bright, to lackluster attitude. For Ricky, he had hoped Rusty would smarten up, grow up in his attitudes right off, but right now wasn't the moment, apparently, to start off on a refresher course. However, it wasn't entirely `Rusty' he was concerned with at the moment. In order to explain the `complicated' parts, Ricky knew he would have to tell more than he had been willing to expose. Though, he knew, if Rusty was to understand, it was inevitable. "Why are we pulling off here?" Rusty ask, looking at the sign reading, `fresh corn'. Entering the loop of a vegetable stand, "I thought we should pick up some corn," looking out the windshield, after putting the car in park, "oh, look, it's closed!" Thinking on this day, it was most likely one of the worst of days. Though, as Rusty jimmies the door handle and steps out of the car, it's probably no worse than the past ump-teen years of his life. He sat there, startled, until it dawned on Ricky, which made him spring into action, opening the door and stepping out. Looking over the top of his late model car, he shouts, "Where are you going?" Rather than waiting for answer, he slams the door shut, not realizing the keys are still inside. Regardless, he starts running in the direction Rusty is walking. Dealing with people and their emotions, day in and day out, Ricky doesn't just paw the top of Rusty's shoulder. Butting his chest up to Rusty's back, both arms go over the top, hugging him like a bear. Out in the country, off the main drag, it tended to get very silent, except for the normal presence of crickets and a hoot owl. The new moon would peak at 8:59pm. Rusty was good at studies in geology, paleontology, astronomy and the other sciences, so he knew his moon charts. Even though he knew the night would be pitch black, he looked up. The only feeling surrounding him, were those of Ricky's arms, encased in the full armor of his chest and stomach. Off on a totally different tangent, he says, "It's going to be real dark tonight. People are going to be needing a flashlight to walk from buildings to the barn." Taken to a different world himself, Ricky felt like he was in a different universe, standing in a void of darkness, clutching a warmth, which right now acted as a security blanket. "Do you think all those stars are there, just for me?" That stirred Ricky out of his reverie, bordering on something he always wished for, emotions he never experienced, which hearing the out-of-the-ordinary, looks up, "Don't be a hog! They're there for me too!" That was the straw which broke the camel's back, or rather, make the camel get up and dance. With nothing more to rock his world just now, Rusty's feet step in a turn like a square dance move to face his partner. Ricky, none of his statues put in place, for how to deal with things when a dude gets too serious, keep him from going with the flow. All he does know, is Rusty, in the pocket of his hollow chest, arms caressing, coupled with the darkness of a moonless night, starlight shining down like a millions spotlights, it was meant for them and he made the most of it. Once an engine got started, it would hum and keep going until the power was cut off. For Ricky, right now it was as if he were stoopid and didn't know how. Such were his emotions, from his chest and `below', what was began, he was driven to keep on keeping on. After the first kiss, Rusty did have restraint, "Should we be doing this?" Ricky knew Rusty needed some type of diversion this evening and knowing how to interest a guy more, places both hands under the tee, at the hips, feels skin, "that's up to you and your will, Rusty." One thing Rusty had liked about Ricky, were the different tones of voice and there were many `characters' on the script sheet. Speaking, like conversing with a patient, took on a certain tone. When he told stuff about Marco, it was a more stern articulation. The `ordinary' Ricky was mellow. Right now though, he had not witnessed the sexual overtones Ricky could exude, and they were downright sexy! "Right now, my will...it's kind of weak, but it's not like I don't know what happening. So, if you think you're taking advantage of me, that's not the way it is." An inch shorter than Ricky, was of no consequence, an easy, doable thing, for leaning in, with purpose to give him a peck on the lips. Even in a serious moment, Ricky could be flippant, "That's it?" Since everything; in the moment with each other, the environment surrounding them, earth and sky, nothing could thwart what the two were feeling now, Rusty reaching both arms, up and over Ricky's shoulders, drawing them together for some serious necking. When their cowboy hats clinked, Ricky reached for both, tossing one, then the other off to a side bush. It wasn't the first time he's had `outdoor sex' and usually, a bush, shielding the sex-mongers, acted as a hatstand for cowboys, baseball players, golf caddies and others who partook, out in the boondocks. In doing so, it acted like a tickle, feeling a pair of hands diving into that place where the button had come of his shirt. Probably is was all which ailed him, Rusty diving into the sexually induced moment, both hands reaching into Ricky's shirt, not caring how many buttons the shirt would be missing, just wanting to get at what lie beneath. After disposing of the hats, Ricky backs up, "Oh my, aren't we aggressive?" he looks down the front of himself. A white shirt against a perpetual tan, showed up brighter, even in the dark, as opposed to fairer skinned dudes. Without even thinking of what rolled off Ricky's lips, Rusty does a bod-block, arms feeling up a smooth back, "Can you just hug me?" Seriously, Ricky wanted to do more, but this wasn't that kind of a guy and not the ideal moment for rushing into things, "Of course." The scene out in no man's land, darkness prevailing, certainly would seem like something was about to manifest, take on a seedy scene, with hats hung up on a bush, Ricky's shirt, torn open and hanging from his forearms, still tucked in around his belt line and to top it off, both clutching each other. Off the main road, Ricky took the `scenic route' back to the 2-story apartment complex which, in certain types of weather could produce muddy tires. Late at night, with a lull in industry, the road was less traveled. Though, it happened, an occasional vehicle passing by, which just did. It made the pair stand still, until the car light had passed by, motor petering out with distance. "That was a close one," Rusty says. Ricky then remembers something Marco had told him, "You know it's against the law to have sex in public?" Having never heard it, regardless, Rusty asks, "Are we going to have sex?" By all means, Ricky's cock and balls were throwing hint, but not wanting to rush into things, "Only time will tell!" Downtrodden over events, feeling anxiety and depression, it can bend one's thoughts and desires, Rusty rubbing both hands up Ricky's mossy front, "I think I'd find some comfort tonight, lying with you?" He could pretty much guess what would happen, if things got that far. With the plumbing acting up, it was tough pulling all faculties together to produce a negative response, "Well," Ricky broke off the hold on him, walking towards the `hat-bush', "why don't we pull ourselves together and get a move on it?" While Ricky was at the bush, he had to bend in a little to grab one of the hats. Standing up, a pair of hands were there to place his wasted shirt over both shoulders. "I thought you looked kind of stoopid with it hanging?" "Thanks," Ricky turns around, plopping Rusty's hat on his head. Fixing the hat, firming it up to it's once splendored, folded look, the Rusty follows Ricky to the car. There wasn't anything to hold his shirt closed, so Ricky just let it hang in the wind. Neither he nor his shirtless bod were strangers to the outdoors and he loved the feeling. Picnics, tag football came to mind. When back in the car, Rusty started to get reservations, "If what I said, you don't want to do, we can..." Probably Ricky was thinking it was best for both of them, "Are you kidding...you want to get out of me totally molesting you tonight?" Rusty pummels Ricky in the shoulder with a fist. "Hey, watch the threads," he brushes Rusty off with a ping of an index finger. On the way back, the 20 feet to the main road, then venturing onward, Rusty was kind of cool, in the way of being nervous. In all respect, he figured the first time he had sex with a guy would be his own age. Yet, he couldn't fight the feeling, even though Ricky were 10-years older, it didn't really matter. He was definitely more upbeat than any of his high school buds. Far as the physical stature, passed many of them up, even the football players. One thing which stood out, Rusty hadn't gotten it on with anyone... Oh, but he had to correct himself, having met Evan. However, he quickly brushed that off. In comparison, he and Evan together were nothing like himself and Ricky. Perhaps Ricky were getting wet feet too, "You hungry or anything?" Ricky would have had a surefire answer, but Rusty, not being around the block yet, "A little. No. Not really. More thirsty than hungry, I guess." He would have had a quick answer for that too, but he doubted Rusty would go for turning on his own spigot! Before Ricky could get too hyped up on metaphors, he announces, "Honey, I'm home!" Rusty asks, "You have someone waiting for you?" "Do you think someone heard," Ricky knocks knuckles on the window, "through this and concrete walls?" Half-smile, Rusty says, "Guess not." It did tickle his brain to know, "Have you ever been in a relationship, Ricky?" Smiling, as he lifts the door handle, he turns his head, "Not yet!" How much clearer could a guy perceive that, Rusty having brought up the relationship issue. It then got him to thinking, a premature wish or want? Only time would tell. Walking in the front door of the condo, Ricky and Rusty are confronted with piles of boxes. Adam seemed much, much different, especially with sweat pouring down his half-naked front, "Where have you been Rusty?" Same condition, shirtless, barefooted, Tommy says, "I thought you were going to help us?" Ricky says, "You were going to help them?" to Rusty. Swearing it all off, yet finding shiny sweat healthy to look at, "I never said anything of the kind." "Oh," Tommy nudges Adam with his elbow. Both walking towards them, apparently news had traveled around, "Sorry about your dad." "Me too," Adam says, both giving him a bud-hug. "If there's anything we can do, Rusty?" Tommy asks. When he saw Adam and Tommy getting along so well at the restaurant, Rusty knew he hadn't a chance, but turning to Ricky for a sense of direction, right now he didn't care. If anything, he was happy the two were getting along. "So, you guys been packing, moving crates all this time?" Ricky, he was able to slip by, without them questioning why his shirt was totaled. At least, it's what he thought, because coming down the stairs, Tommy asks, "Oh, is that my tee shirt?" It was, Ricky pulling it from a clean basket, having packed all of his and shipped them over to the house he now owned. "Why?" Ricky replies like a snide remark, "You want to make something of it, Tommy?" Rusty didn't know if Ricky was kidding or not. That's how he was sometimes, putting on an actor's role! "Of course, you're not serious?" Rusty asks. "Of course not!" Ricky replies. "Ready to raid the kitchen?" Funny how things change in an instant. Rusty swore, when they entered Ricky's pad they were going to be headed right to the bedroom. Though, now thinking about it, if Ricky had suggested the bedroom, he probably would have mentioned he was hungry and ask where the kitchen was! % 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.