Date: Tue, 14 Jul 2015 13:14:18 +0000 (UTC) From: Koos Smit Subject: KRIS Kris Chapter 1 It is a lazy summer Sunday on my farm at the foot of the Magaliesberg mountains in South Africa. I am sitting in a comfortable cushioned wicker chair on the wide front patio of my house, naked and wet from having just got out of the swimming pool. My bare feet are up on an ottoman as I suck at a cold beer. I watch my 13 year old son, Kris, as he cavorts boisterously in the sparkling blue pool set in the great expanse of lawn surrounding the house. He seems to be trying to empty out all the water by dive-bombing the pool repeatedly and is making enough noise for a whole rugby team in the process! Apart from house servants and farm employees Kris and I live alone together on the farm. His mother was a cute young backpacker whom I met in a pub when I was young and stupid and on holiday in Cape Town. Though I am now firmly settled in a gay sexual orientation, in those days I was still experimenting and in that pub on that night I thought that if I was ever going to be straight it was going to be with that stunningly sexy blonde 18 year-old. We spent the night having passionate sex in my hotel room, both of us too pissed to think about protection. In the morning, before I woke, she left without saying a word ... but with my wallet. Her name was Erika. One night, eight years later, she pitched up at the door of my apartment in upmarket Sandton in Johannesburg. I did not recognise her at first: She was painfully thin and she looked haggard and tired. It was a great shock when recognition finally dawned on me. In one hand she held a scruffy old canvas rucsac and in her other she held the hand of a sturdy barefooted little boy about eight years old. His eyes were bright blue, like Erika's, and his mop of hair was almost white blonde. His eyebrows were light tufts of silvery down against the golden brown skin of his face. He was almost breathtakingly beautiful and by contrast with Erika he looked healthy and happy, if a little grubby. He seemed a friendly and confident little fellow who had clearly inherited his mother's former Nordic beauty. After having something to eat and drink she perched uncomfortably on the edge of the sofa and, while the boy settled down to watch the cartoon channel in another room, she told me her story. She started by apologising wryly for having stolen my wallet eight years before. She still had it and she fished it out of the rucsac to hand to me. It was how she had found me, she said. After she had left me eight years before she fell in with a group of hippies who had bought an old Toyota minivan which they used to tour the seaside towns over the next several months. At some point she realised that she was pregnant. She gave birth to Kris in a government hospital in Durban. She had run out of money. She had no family and no support. She took to prostitution to feed herself and her son and put a roof over their heads. She got into using hard drugs. She finally reached the point at which she realised that she could not provide for Kris anymore. She was on the point of surrendering Kris to Child Welfare to be placed in foster care when she recognised me in a television news interview about one of my business projects. She realised that I was financially well placed to care for Kris and within a month she had tracked me down in Johannesburg. I had seen at once where she was going with this and I laughed out aloud. `Next you will be telling me that Kris is my son!', I said. She looked at me in surprise. `He is your son!', she said, `Can't you see the likeness?' `He is a beautiful boy, but that's all yours, not mine!', I replied. `He's your son!', she repeated, `Like it or not!' `How can you be sure?', I asked, `We were one night of fun and I am pretty sure there were others you slept with in that time!' `There were others on that trip, before you and after you, but a woman knows ...', she replied. `You can do a DNA test if you don't believe me!' she added. `Well ... we can talk about that later', I said, `There are bigger problems, though ... I am a single guy and I am gay ... How am I supposed to look after and bring up an eight year old kid?' `I've always known you were gay', she said, `It's the main reason I did not come to you earlier ... but now Kris needs you. Would you be happy knowing your son is in foster care somewhere?' `What do you mean, you have always known? How could you have known? I barely knew myself!' `A woman knows ...', she replied. She looked at me a moment, hesitating as if unsure whether to say something more, and then said: `And anyway ... Kris is also gay ... so ... there is a lot you can teach him and help him with ... you know? You should get along fine' `He's only eight years old for crying out aloud! What could he possibly know about sex?' She rolled her eyes: `When you grow up in a one room flat on Point Road with a mother doing tricks you learn plenty about sex, believe me', she said bitterly. `Even so, how can you say he's gay?', I insist. She looked at me pityingly. `Okay, let me guess!' I said, `"A mother knows"?' `That's right ... a mother knows!', she replied. After a moment's thought she added: `You know you don't choose to be gay, right? You're born that way ... some guys only know it later and others know it from early on. Many know but never accept it. But mothers always know almost from the start. You only came to know it later but Kris has known from an early age. And I have never discouraged him or made him feel it was abnormal. It's important that you know this if you are going to be his father'. By then my head was ringing, so I suggested we discuss it further in the morning. Erika accepted my offer to sleep over in my guest room. I should have known better. When I woke early the next morning, Erika was gone and she had left Kris behind with the canvas rucsac containing all his worldly possessions. Also in the rucsac I found a brown official envelope containing Kris's birth certificate. My name was given as Kris's father on the certificate. I sat a long while on the bed with the birth certificate in my hand, looking down at the sleeping boy. Erika had spent a long time tenderly and lovingly bathing and shampooing him, clipping his nails and brushing his hair before putting him to bed. She obviously knew then already that she would not be seeing him again. As I watched him, Kris rolled over onto his belly, kicking the covers off as he did so. I smiled to see that, like me, he slept in the nude. From his deep golden all-over tan it was evident that he was not a fan of wearing clothes at all ... again rather like me, and I wondered if such preferences could be genetic. Given what Erika had told me about his sexual orientation it was certainly looking that way. I reached out and lightly stroked his warm brown back. He seemed to purr for a moment and then stretched himself out like a cat before rolling over and opening his eyes to smile at me. He had a morning woodie that was really cute ... actually quite impressive for his age ... and I smiled at the thought that passed through my head that here was yet another indication that Kris might actually be my son. Kris fingered his woodie openly and without embarrassment as he looked up at me. `Mom says you're my dad', he announced matter-of-factly. `Would you like that?', I asked. `I dunno", he replied. `Well ... fair enough ... how would you know?', I said. And that was how Kris came into my life. He crept into my heart on that first morning when he woke and smiled his beautiful wide smile at me. With his blonde hair, blue eyes, beautiful golden brown body and charming smile, he was the personification of childlike innocence. Later I would discover that Kris was far from being an `innocent' child in the conventional sense. I realised then that it was Providence that had brought him to me on that day. He would never have been able to fit into a so-called `normal' family. He would have been regarded as irremediably perverted and would have spent his childhood in care. But that need not concern us at this stage of Kris's story. I decided then and there to accept the birth certificate at face value. He was my son from that moment on. I never did get a DNA test ... partly because I was afraid it might prove that I was not his natural father ... but mostly because I knew it would make no difference. We never saw Kris's mother again. At one time I hired a detective to find her. He reported that she had died of a drug overdose not long after she had left Kris with me. I bought the farm a few months after Kris came to live with me. Living the life he had been with Erica, Kris was disconcertingly streetwise at eight years of age. I wanted to take him as far away as possible from those influences and I thought that life in the country would be the ideal environment for any young boy. I enrolled him in the local primary school where all the farmers' kids went and he flourished there. He was a natural leader who did well academically and who was good at sport. Big for his age, strong and extremely good-looking, he was a great favourite among both teachers and schoolmates. I am putting these memories through my thoughts as I watch Kris playing in the pool, the bright sun glinting off his naked body as he twists and tumbles in the water. Suddenly Kris stops and pulls himself up on the side of the pool to stare down the long tree-lined gravel road that leads up the house from the road gate. I sit up and turn to see what he is looking at. A teenage boy is trudging up the road toward the house. The boy is a stranger, so as he comes up to the veranda I pick up a towel to wrap around my waist. The boy greets me with a little wave of his hand. He looks nervous, as if he expects me to chase him away. `Hello Uncle', the boy says. I recognise him then as the boy Kris and I have seen a few times lately doing odd jobs around the petrol station down the road; sweeping the forecourt, stacking old car tyres, washing car windows and the like. Like most of the boys in the area he is always barefoot, but what struck Kris and I as odd was that, despite the heat, he always wears a black fake leather lumber jacket that is too big for him and a tatty pair of jeans that are too small for him. Today he is wearing exactly the same clothes. I am sorry for him. He must feel like he is in a sauna. He is slightly bigger than Kris but looks about the same age ... thirteen or fourteen would be my guess. He has a hunted look, almost feral, and I notice that his fists are balled, as if expecting to have to defend himself at any moment. Under the scruffy clothes I can see, though, that he is sturdily made. His legs and his butt fill his jeans tightly and his body is well-proportioned. A shaggy mop of dirty, sand-coloured hair, now spiky with perspiration, frames his head. Deep blue eyes look out warily from a broad and handsome face though just now it is flushed with heat and exertion and streaked with grime and sweat. `Hello', I reply, `What brings you here?' `Uncle, my name is Nik, and I'm looking for work and a place to stay', the boy says. By now Kris is out of the pool and is standing on the cool tiles of the patio, quite unabashedly naked and dripping a puddle of water as he eyes Nik. Nik is unfazed by Kris's nakedness but I detect a flicker of admiration as he eyes Kris's generously endowed crotch. `How old are you, Nik?', I ask. `I'm sixteen, Uncle', he replies, tearing his eyes away from Kris's sex tackle. `Really? I would have said you were thirteen or fourteen'. `I know you got to be sixteen to get a job Uncle ... Don't you?', he replies `Ah ...', I say, `Okay ... I understand'. I look into his troubled eyes a moment. `Look, Nik', I say, `Honesty is very important to me ... Don't tell me you're sixteen if you are not ... Be straight with me. Every problem can be solved, but we have to have the right information to start with, otherwise we are trying to solve the wrong problem. Understand?' Nik blushes bright red. `I understand Uncle ... I'm sorry ... I'm really fourteen' `Okay, that's better ... Where are you from?', I ask. `I'm from the West Rand', he says vaguely. `But why are you not at home? Shouldn't you be at school rather than looking for work?' `My mom chased me out the house, Uncle, an' I haven't got money for school fees an' books an' uniforms'. I ponder this for a moment. `But where are you living now ... I've seen you at the petrol station the last week or so'. `Uncle I been living in the oil store at the petrol station but the owner chucked me out. I been walking and calling at the farms to ask for a place to sleep and for work, but the farmers chase me away. They say I look like a skelm!' (good-for-nothing), he says, indignantly. I smile, thinking my neighbours have a point but I refrain from saying so. `Why are you always wearing those clothes in this heat? Aren't you hot?', Kris interjects. Nik blushes. `It's all the clothes I got, he says, defensively. `Ja, but why you wear a jacket? Why not just wear a shirt!', Kris insists, ignoring me as I shake my head at him. For answer Nik unzips his plastic jacket and opens it to expose his shirtless torso, smooth, white and wet with perspiration. `I haven't got a shirt!', he says, defiantly. Nik leaves his jacket hanging open, giving us tantalising glimpses of rippling abs and well-developed pecs as he shifts his weight from one leathery heel to the other. Now it is Kris's turn to look interested and I have to confess that I feel a little flicker of interest myself. `Dad, you know I need a stable boy to look after my ponies and do stuff for me. And when Ryan goes back to college you're gonna be short-handed in the stables anyway', says Kris. Ryan is an 18 year old agricultural college student on a bursary provided by one of my companies. He has been spending part of his summer vacation working in my stables to earn some extra pocket money. He is also expected to attend to some of my more personal needs - it is not for nothing that I personally choose the bursary candidates in a fairly rigorous and unusual selection process and it is no coincidence that the successful candidates are always exceptionally attractive young gay men. Soon he will be going back to college. `Do you know anything about horses?', I ask Nik. `No Uncle, I'm sorry', he replies. `Ryan can teach him, Dad', says Kris. Kris is obviously keen that Nik stays and, knowing my horny son as well as I do, I am pretty sure it has nothing to do with his concern for the staffing of the stables. `Well, there you are Nik ... if you want it, you can work for my son as a stable boy', I say. The relief in Nik's face is immediate and joyful to behold. Unable to contain himself he jumps forward and throws his arms around me. `Thank you, Uncle! Thank you! Thank you!', he says fervently. I gently prise him off me. `Don't thank me, thank Kris ... he's the one who hired you!' Nik shakes Kris's hand a little awkwardly. `Thanks, boss!', he laughs. `Let's see if you're still thankful in a week's time', I smile, `Kris can be a tough master to please!' `I'm tough too, Uncle, I can take anything!', says Nik. `I'm sure you are ... you look it', I say, and then I go on: `Okay Nik ... first things first ... I want you to take those clothes off right here and now. They are filthy, they smell bad and they are and they don't fit you anyway. They need to be burned. You will get some work clothes for the stable tomorrow but you can borrow some of Kris's things in the meantime ... if you need any, that is ... we mostly go about kaalgat (naked) on the farm. Anyway, the most you will need in this heat is a pair of shorts '. Nik seems more than happy to comply, peeling off his plastic lumber jacket and his greasy jeans in two fluid motions and dropping them on the floor. He is not wearing underpants, so he now stands before Kris and I completely naked. As I had suspected, he has a well-proportioned, nicely muscled young body. Because he is always clothed, he has the oddest tan lines that I have seen on a South African boy for a long time: His face and neck, feet and ankles, hands and forearms are a dark dirty tan colour while the rest of his body is a grubby white. His skin is smooth and hairless and he has a long thick white uncut penis that hangs down between his muscular thighs like a firehose. The familiar glint in Kris's eyes and the fact that his own equally impressive penis is suddenly behaving like a filling hosepipe signals that his interest in Nik has rapidly changed from curiosity to lust. Having spent the first eight years of his life in the home of a working prostitute and the next five under the influence of my own pretty open sexual lifestyle, Kris has never had any hang-ups whatsoever about his body or any of its functions. He has known everything there is to know about sex since he was about six. To him, sexual activity of any kind; whether gay, straight, bi, solo, or kinky, is as natural as breathing. This is an approach that I was quick to assimilate and it has given me much happiness and freedom since I embraced it. `Dad, I'm gonna take Nik to my bathroom and get him cleaned up, okay?' says Kris. `Is that all you'll be doing?' I ask with a wink. `That depends on Nik', he winks back. `Just remember "the Rules"', I say, reminding him of the rules that we had agreed for sex with strangers. `Yes Dad! I remember!' `I know you remember now, but I want you to remember when the little head takes over!' Kris rolls his eyes at me. `You worry too much!' he says, `I still got those rubbers you bought me when we went to that party on Dr Adrian's yacht'. `Ja, well you never know', I reply. I look at Nik. If he understands what we have been alluding to he gives no sign of it. In any case his attention seems to be wholly focused on Kris's lively sex tool, which suggests a strong possibility that that Kris may soon get lucky. `In the meantime I will drive down to the petrol station to fetch Nik's things and let Mr Patel know that Nik will be staying with us', I announce. Nik is visibly startled by this and his face seems to pale underneath its grimy tan. `Please Uncle, there's no need', he pleads, `I got no things there and that old bastard already chased me away there!' I look at Nik in surprise. `Is there something you are not telling me, Nik?' `No Uncle, I just don't want anything to do with that man!' `Well ... okay then, I'll leave it for now', I say. Nik is clearly relieved, and with Kris impatiently tugging at his wrist, he turns to follow his new boss into the house. As Nik turns away, I see his back for the first time. For a brief moment the only thing I notice is the sculpted marble-like beauty of his brawny back, his firm round buttocks, his perfectly shaped thighs and his bulging calves. Then my eyes are drawn to the latticework of thin purple welts that overlay his back and buttocks, some fading and others more fresh. There are few things I enjoy more than a little BDSM from time to time, and the sight of Nik's whip-welted back and buttocks makes my belly lurch. I call Nik back. `Uncle?', he asks. `Why have you got whip marks all over your back?' I ask him. At once Kris comes around to look at Nik's back. `Oh cool!' is his response. Kris is also open to a little bondage and discipline when he is in the mood and I can see the wheels turning in his head as his fertile sexual imagination thinks up scenarios that will allow him to discipline his stable boy. `Oh, that's nothing, Uncle', Nik replies, `Mr Patel beat me nearly every day!' `But what did you do to deserve a whipping?', I press, `If you're a bad worker maybe I need to re-think whether I should be hiring you!' `Mr Patel is just a hard man to work for, Uncle!', he replies. `Yes, Dad, just leave him be now, we're gonna go bath', Kris says impatiently. By now Kris's cock is standing up straight and hard and Nik can't seem to take his eyes off it. `Okay, off you go', I say. The two boys race off to Kris's apartment, practically falling over each other in their haste. I know it's not because they are just so keen to have a bath. I resolve to speak to Patel about Nik when next I go to fill up my SUV. I have never liked Patel. He seems altogether too shady a character for my liking and I do not like the way he screams at his employees and continually demeans his wife in front of his customers, so I am inclined to give Nik the benefit of the doubt on this. But I had better chat to Patel all the same and find out what the story is. In the meantime I refresh my beer, drop the towel on the floor again and stretch out naked on a sun lounger to enjoy the peace and quiet of the farm. It is fully two hours before the boys emerge from Kris's apartment. Both boys are still naked but Nik is now clean and glowing. In fact Nik's transformation is quite remarkable. His untidy thatch of hair is actually a beautiful yellow blonde ... the colour of ripe wheat .. now that the grime has been repeatedly shampooed out of it. His wide face and thick neck, his big strong hands and forearms, and his broad square-toed feet have changed colour from the grimy chocolate colour that they were to a lovely honey brown tan. The rest of his body is startlingly white, with the exception of his inordinately large penis, which is still semi-swollen and has the healthy, glowing, reddish look associated with recent vigorous sexual activity. Nik seems to be walking a little uncomfortably, though, which suggests that his anus may be a little bruised. He sits down on the wicker couch next to Kris and I notice that he does so a quite gingerly, further evidence that my horny son has given him a really hard ride, probably several, in between all the washing and shampooing! `Wow, Nik!' I say, `You really cleaned up well. Those two hours in the bath really did the trick, hey?' Nik blushes deep red and squirms like a worm on a hook. He doesn't know where to look or what to say. Kris rolls his eyes at me. `Don't get embarrassed Nik, he's just teasing you!' Kris assures him, `He knows we've been fucking'. At this poor Nik blushes even redder. `What?', I say in mock anger, `I take you into my home and you repay me by having sex with my son!' `I ... I... I'm sorry, Uncle, I'm sorry ... I said we shouldn't but Kris said it's okay. I'm sorry ... you can punish me any way you want!' Nik wailed, on the point of tears. Instantly regretting my prank, I put my arm around his neck. `No man, I'm only joking with you ... of course it's okay! Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you'. `I told you my dad is cool with it, Nik, now do you believe me?' `Yes ... sorry!' says Nik, `I feel such a poephol (arsehole)now!' `No problem', I say, `Don't worry about it'. `And he's a really good fuck, Dad', says Kris, `You should try him!' Nik looks alarmed at this and blushes again, but he squints at me from under his eyebrows with what looks like a flicker of interest. `Well that's up to Nik', I say with a wink, `In the meantime, I think you should take Nik in the pool for a swim so he can make a start on developing a decent tan'. The boys jump up at once and head for the pool. I call them back so that I can put sun block on Nik's virgin white skin. Kris is deeply tanned and never uses the stuff. Like most South African boys and men he thinks that only babies, girls and wusses use sun block. He says so now. `Just you keep your remarks to yourself, Kris!', I say, `You are used to the sun, but you can see how white Nik's skin is. He will go bright red and blister in less than half an hour of that sun. If he uses sun block and takes it slowly he will be as brown as you in a week or two. You will thank me tonight when Nik can play with you instead of being out of action through sunburn'. As Nik turns his back to me I see his arse now bears several new parallel welts: the straight and double ridged welts of a cane. `Kris!', I call to my son, `What the hell have you done to Nik now?' Pretending not to hear me, Kris dives into the pool and splashes about. `Ag, Uncle, it's nothing', says Nik, `We were playing a game and it was just a bet that I lost!' `What was the bet?', I ask. `It was to see who could last the longest before cumming'. `I knew it, that's an old trick of Kris's. Well, just take a tip from me for the future', I say with a grin, `You're never going to win that bet ... Kris is a master at holding back his spoof'. `Ja, Uncle, I can see Kris likes to win ... he likes to be the boss!' `Yes, he does. But you don't have to let him win when you're playing games. It isn't good for him. Play hard and try to win every time. As for being the boss ... well I suppose he is your boss now, so you have to do what he says ... can't do anything about that! And as you just found out, he won't be shy to punish you!' `Will he always punish me by beating me', Nik asks. `In this house a punishment is nearly always a beating. A beating is painful and it leaves marks on your body for a while, but it is over quickly and then we forget about it and move on. If you have a problem with that you need to say so now'. `I'm tough, Uncle, I'm not scared of a beating'. `Well that's good, Nik, because you are sure to get one now and again and I don't want you to say I didn't warn you. If you really think Kris is being unfair, you can always appeal to me before he punishes you'. `Thank you, Uncle, I'll remember'. `Just remember that if I don't agree with you, your punishment will be doubled ... so think very carefully before you appeal!' Nik nods wryly. I have fun massaging the creamy sun block into every square centimetre of Nik's beautiful body. I get him to bend over and spread his butt cheeks so I can massage the cream into his crack and his pucker. I am glad of the excuse to get a good look at his bumhole. I am going to take him to my doctor friend, Adrian, for a check-up during the week, but I want to see for myself if there are any obvious problems that may hinder sexual activity until then. I doubt that there are any as Kris would normally have reported it to me. But I just wanted to be sure in case Kris was too horny to care or too hasty to notice. `You don't want your pucker to get sunburnt now, do you? Makes it very painful to push anything up there!' Nik's only response is to blush again, but he submits quite willingly to the intrusion. His pucker looks a little raw and puffy ... further evidence of having been just fucked hard and long ... and he seems to enjoy the cooling touch of the sun block cream. There doesn't seem to be any cause for concern. Of course Adrian will do a thorough examination and run some tests, and until then Kris (and hopefully, I) will just have to use condoms. As my fingers gently stroke around his rim and massage the cream into his pucker, his anus actually flexes open a few times and I notice his cock lengthening and thickening in evident enjoyment. It is quite obvious that Nik has had his arse fucked before, probably quite often. No wonder Kris thinks Nik a `good fuck'. And Kris, who knew everything there was to know about man sex before he reached his eighth birthday, is a good judge! I am already looking forward to hearing the rest of Nik's story. When I turn Nik around to do the front of his body, I see that his cock is erect and, stimulated by the sex he has just had with Kris, is already dribbling pre-cum. `I can see from your cock that you must have given Kris a good rogering too?', I remark. Nik blushes again. He is obviously not used to having a frank discussion about his sexual activities with an adult. `Yes uncle, I did', he mumbles. `That's cool', I say, `And how was it?' `It was the Best, Uncle ... the Biggest Best ever!', Nik enthuses. `You mean it was the best fuck you ever had?' `No, I ... I been fucked before ... but I never fucked anyone before. Kris is the first ... and ... it was just the best feeling ever. Way better than wanking. A girl sucked me off once ... but Kris was just way better.' `That's great, Nik, I'm glad you had a good first experience'. `And he's a great fucker too, Uncle ... He fucked me really hard and it felt good. I cummed while he was fucking', he adds proudly, `Kris said he didn't see that before!'. `Ja, Kris is a good fucker ... he's had a lot of experience', I say As we chat I work my way slowly down his chest and his belly. All the while his cock pulses and bobs with anticipation. When I finally close my fingers around his swollen cock to slather it with sun block, he involuntarily starts fucking his cock into my fist. By now my own cock is rock hard and leaking precum copiously, but I say to Nik: `Whoa, easy, boy, I'm just putting on sun block for you! Plenty of time for cock fun later!' Once again Nik blushes scarlet. `Sorry, Uncle, it just feels so lekker (nice)!' `No problem, Nik, it feels lekker for me too!' Nik grins broadly and I move on down to massage the cream into his brawny thighs and calves. His leathery brown feet don't need any sun block but I get him to lift each foot onto my knee and I rub the cream thoroughly into his sexy feet. His feet are hard, high arched and well-formed and I just want an opportunity to rub my hands all over them and run my fingers between his cute toes. I resist the strong temptation to take those toes into my mouth and suck on them one by one. Time enough for those pleasures later. I also love the rough hard feel of the thickly callused yellow skin on the souls of his feet. I can tell from the renewed vigour of his erection that Nik loves having his feet played with and he is obviously disappointed when I finally slap him on his meaty thigh and send him off to where Kris is waiting impatiently in the pool for his new boy toy. Nik waddles off with his sore bottom and his big stiff cock swaying ponderously from side to side as he walks. He flops into the pool and Kris jumps onto him at once. They wrestle and splash but, predictably, their grappling quickly turns to grabbing and groping and, before long Kris is once again banging his long thick cock into Nik's arse as Nik bends over the swimming pool steps. `Thank goodness for chlorine and pool filters', I call out in jest. They are too busy to answer, although I see Kris rolling his eyes. He knows that I am the last one who is likely to be bothered by the cum and anal detritus of male sex in the pool. Finally I am aroused enough by the boys' lustful rutting to head up to the stable-hands' quarters above the feed store to find Ryan. As I mount the wooden steps leading up to the bedrooms I lift a horse whip from its peg on the wall. I have remembered some work infractions that I need to take up with Ryan before I fuck his beautiful 18 year old arse ...