Date: Fri, 3 Jun 2016 11:58:51 +0000
From: TCHASE MCPHEE <survivalgame@outlook.com>
Subject: ?JoLLy RaNCHeRs? 12

% 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" 12

WriTten by T. Chase McPhee


^   0   ^


%



Walking in the direction of the barn, the whole time Monte talked up a
storm, about what brought him here. He did happen to mention, being under
Marco, in the armed forces.


Of which, it perked up Rusty's ears and instead of catching a yawn, "Hmm,
so you served under Marco, did you?"


"Shame on you!"


"What?" Rusty acts innocently shy.


"Thinking of your father with such disrespect!"


In a way, Rusty figured it could be misconstrued, a friendly jab at a man
who he's supposed to be looking up to, like a father, "Um, it's kind of new
to me...it's going to take me a while."


"All I can say is, it might not mean much to you, but if something you say
about him, like that, if someone picks up on it, it could be
misinterpreted."


Monte was right, Rusty seeing it his way. After all, this wasn't a buddy,
buddy friend to him, now that they've swum naked in the pool.


"I guess I better watch myself."


"Not which I'm telling you what to do, but as a friend," Monte says with a
smile.


"Thanks, `friend'."


On the path to the barn, Monte seemed to know his way around, for being on
the ranch property for the first time, which got Rusty to thinking, "You
haven't by chance, have been here before?"


"Never," Monte replies.


Something sounded fishy to Rusty, but he let it go, thinking the last bit
of Jack Daniels messing with his brain.


With the barn in sight, strangely lit up from the inside, light shining
through a plate glass window on the right side, whereas it was normally
dark at night, Rusty says, "Looks like Hoot is getting in some bedtime
reading!"


Upon hearing Rusty's laugh, Monte says, "Good to see a man with a sense of
humor."


With arrival at the ranch, Monte hadn't an idea of what was in store for
him. Marco brought him in to assess the damage to the house, on whether it
truthfully had to come down or some of it salvaged. His opinion had been
the same as town officials, tear it down to the foundation and start
over. However, before doing so, he had connected with some of the items
seen, while doing a careful walkthrough.


On purpose, Monte allowed Rusty to open the barn door, rather than be the
perfect gentleman and do it for him.


"Wow! Like, what's all this?"


Monte went for the first item he saw, casing the house, Rusty's swim
trophy, "I know, if I had worked so hard for something, I'd be sad too,
miss seeing it hanging around?"


"Where did you get this?" Rusty asks, dazed and bedazzled by the half-naked
replica, holding fists up, like after viewing a perfect 10 on a scoreboard.


He stole it out of Monte's hands, leaving him holding air, "I thought you
would be glad to have it."


Not only his swimming trophy, but against one wall stood Rusty's dresser,
"you brought this here?"


Being `modest', Monte replies, "I didn't, but have to admit it was my idea
to salvage your stuff!"


So happy to have his cross country skis, an assortment of clothing which
was hanging in his closet, dresser and tidbits of other memorabilia about,
Rusty had to admit, "Wow, this is like, unreal. I thought all this stuff
was a goner!"


"Well, that's not all," Monte starts climbing the ladder to the upper loft.


Hearing his footsteps, Rusty turns around, viewing his ass through wet
briefs, the only garment the two chose to put on after their swim.


Viewing the wet crack, a deviation in the fabric, Rusty says, "Uh, I
suppose you want me to follow you?"


"Why, afraid of heights?"


"No," Rusty starts on the bottom rung, indignant, "I'm not afraid of
heights!"


Though, he was just under Monte's foot and if he hustled too fast, Rusty
might have an imprint on the top of his head!


At the top, Monte hopped to his feet, turned around and offered his hand to
Rusty, "need a hand?"


Rusty didn't, but accepted his act of kindness, "sure, why not!"


>From the loft to the roof, there was plenty of room for a man to stand up,
which right now, it's where Rusty stood, the helping hand bringing them
face to face. They lingered for a few seconds.


"Uh, here, let me show you around."


`Show me around?' Rusty thought. There was height to the loft, but not much
width, like a guy couldn't get lost up there!


"I had them haul a bunk up here from the ranch hand's quarters. I hadn't
thought there would be room to stack 2, so I had them placed side by side."


"Uh-huh," Rusty says it, like ulterior motives on the 27-year old's mind!


"Since the mattress in your room was salvageable, I had them bring it up."


Not which Rusty didn't think Monte was cute, he was, outright a foxy little
cub. But having been burned a few times in the past couple of days, Rusty
hoped to play it cool on developing anything, "Thanks. All I need now is a
potty and I'll have all the comforts of home!"


"Come with me," Monte lowers himself down the ladder.


He stood underneath to make sure Rusty made it down okay.


"I hope I don't have to make this trip too many times during the night!"


"Do what I do," Monte says, "and keep a bucket next to the bed."


"You keep a bucket next to your bed?" Rusty turns with a jump.


"When I'm camping."


"Oh, you like the outdoors, do you?"


"Love it," Monte replies, stepping through a door which leads to the feed
room.


"Oh, I got so tied up in myself, I forgot about looking in on Hoot, poor
guy."


"He's fine. Evan has been taking good care of him," Monte flicks on a light
switch.


"You're kidding?" Rusty gasps, seeing what amounts to painted walls and
some ad lib furnishings.


"Nope. Designed it myself and Marco had it all done up in about 6 hours
time."


It was enough to make anyone proud of designing and installing a bath room
fit enough for a king.


"Who woulda thought?" Rusty says of the tiles, placed in a pattern on the
walls and ceiling, ceramic toilet, sink and, "wow, now this is cool," he
stands inside a shower stall with no door, nor closure. "Like, what happens
if the water splashes out?"


Joking, Monte says, "You think if I stand in the opening, it won't?"


"What am I supposed to do...call you up every time I want to shower?" Rusty
freely turns the central knob.


Standing away from the showerhead, his hand senses the tepid flow.


"How do you like it?" Monte, a smile as wide as zipper is long, fills his
face.


"Great," Rusty replies. In a pranking mood, also obliged for all the work,
he feels he owes Monte, "how about yourself?"


In seconds, Monte is standing there, holding puddles in each hand, looking
down upon his doused hair-covering and briefs, "I can't believe you did
that!"


"Well," Rusty giggles, "I guess this means you're gonna have to strip!"


What Rusty didn't know, no one plays Monte without getting his `due,' "I
hope my cellphone isn't trash," he reaches under the elastic of briefs. The
little rectangle had sunk down in the `pocket.' "Good thing I didn't have
it on vibrate, huh?"


Rusty walks over, "need some help retrieving it?"


Before he knew what happened, Monte is holding his briefs away from his
pubes, ready for Rusty to go fishing.


"Really?" Rusty stands there, looking down into the dark abyss.


"Hey, there ain't nothin' in there that you haven't already seen!"


"Okay," Rusty whimsically says, reaching in Monte's pocket. "Here ya go!"


"Amazing."


"What is?" Rusty asks, after handing Monte his cell.


"You knew which hard item to grab!"


Placing his cell down on the makeshift vanity, Monte didn't do it the easy
way, dip his bod around, but rather feeds an arm through the crevice of
Rusty's arm and lats.


Being naughty, hearing the cell touch base with the sink, Rusty traps
Monte's arm, "Gotcha!"


"Are we sure we want to go down this path?" Monte asks.


"I don't know. Do we?"


For a moment, the two stare into eyes, until Rusty drifts down the mossy
front and as a matter of observation, "if we both get any bigger, our
briefs will be touching!"


Already knowing he's been cased, Monte talks up other features, planing a
hand along Rusty's smooth, defined abs, "Nice abs. I can see you've worked
hard to get them?"


"Shall I go fishing again?"


Dropping both hands, Monte says, "I better be getting back to town, before
I catch my death of cold."


Not which Rusty at all minded, keeping things simple, uncomplicated,
getting tied up in a relationship which could deteriorate without cause or
reason.


Following Monte's lead, "whatever you thing is best, or," Rusty was wide
awake by now, after their swim and hike up and down the ladder, "we could
build a fire, pound sticks in the ground and hang our clothes out to dry?"


"Oh, so you do know something about camping?"


Symbol of not wanting this to end, or letting go of the moment, without
thinking about it, the two weave fingers together, couple hands.


"So, how about I get the fire started, while you go fill Hoot in on your
day?"


Mixed reactions filling Rusty's mind. With his luck, he would be right in
the middle of a sweet moment, when Hoot did his `impatient thing', stomping
his feet when he didn't get what he wanted.


Thinking on things, sometimes Rusty sensed Hoot and him connected via
brainwaves. Right now, Hoot was coming between himself and Monte. Then,
thinking he's got it all wrong, "maybe it's the other way around!"


"Who are you talking to?" Monte asks, a look of question on his sweet face.


"The horse, of course!"


"A poet and you didn't know it?"


Smiling at each other, Rusty gets the last word in, on their joking around,
"Stalemate."


Monte didn't believe Rusty, about Hoot getting impatient, "by golly you
were right," he looks down at the stomping hoof!


Rusty fills him in. "Trust me, it gets worse!"


Breaking off their double hand-holding, Monte says, "well then, you better
go feed him. I don't feel like having any competition!"


 %


Kira, going about her business, was constituted as scouting out for Mama
Rosa. She knew Ricky was the appointed mastermind, but he had a lot on his
mind as it was, finding new lodgings for himself, after Marco backed out of
sharing his pad. Backup to the backup, she made it her business to be on
the lookout for anything `suspicious'.


Right now, she didn't rightly know what that meant, other than possibly a
hot man, shirt off and lying alongside a log, catching some very late,
afternoon rays, when he's supposed to be chopping the log up!


Even though she knew the wheels had just been set in motion, and with the
setting sun, there wouldn't be much action. Though, with her little pink
book, she jotted down important notes, like a journal, about to question
why the logger was not working. After getting her pencil out, she put it
back. How could she possibly cause a man with such a fine bod, duress?


Tricky thing, Kira knew her approach would have to be a snappy pickup line,
not one which would implicate, standing there in the bushes, in stalking
mode.


"Suns going down. Bugs will be coming out. Just want to warn ya?"


What Kira didn't see, the small blown up life raft on the other side of the
laid out log man, a small blond head, popping up, exclaiming, "it's okay my
dad and me got bug stuff on!"


About ready to pounce on her prey, Kira is shocked out of her gourd, "where
did you come from?"


By now, the lad's dad and he are sitting on the side of the log, the `man'
saying, "On the contrary, where did `you' come from?"


As if he didn't know, ears picking up on someone lurking in the bushes,
twigs snapping with footsteps.


Rather than address the stalking issue, especially with some young kid
there, Kira was on her best behavior, "I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on
things."


Sly, the tall, blond, smooth guy says, "I see that you're doing your job!"


Meanwhile, the lad has walked away a few feet, reporting back, "Hey dad,
come take a look at this!"


"Excuse me," he smiles at Kira, then turns his back, "What do you have
there, Scotty?"


"Tracks."


Not minding her own business, Kira walks over, filling the vacant third of
a triangle, "oh, that. Must be Hoot and Rusty have rode through here."


Seeing his way in, "You're a tracker, are you, miss?"


"`Miss'?" Kira questions. "You got it all wrong. I'm anything but a
`miss!'"


Looking for a name, the father states it, "No, you've got me wrong. I was
looking more for `Miss Smith', or `Miss Jones,' or, maybe you're a `Mrs'?"


Suddenly, the tracks weren't important, `Scotty' paying more attention to
`the adults', "my dad wants to know your name. His name is Scott too, but
because I'm Scotty, he tells people to call him by his middle name. What's
your name?"


"Kids," Trewent states, "they can be so damn curious!"


"The name's Kira, short for Shakira, but I better never hear you call me
that!"


Scotty teases, "Shakira?" he hides behind his dad's thigh, giggling.


She didn't really care, it being a kid and, being funny, but made it like
she was fuming mad, making two fists, "Come out from there, badboy!"


It made Scotty laugh all the more, "save me dad!"


Pulling his son out from behind, Trewent sets Scotty on his knee, "Oh no
you don't. What did I teach you?"


One of several things taught to the kid, Scotty reveals, "watch what I say,
`cause I got to stand up for myself?"


"Well," Trewent says, "you're going to either have to apologize to the nice
lady, or get in the boxing ring?"


Walking up to Kira, Scotty humbly sticks out his right hand, "sorry Kira."


Dropping her dukes, Kira says, shaking Scotty's tiny hand, "just don't let
it happen again."


Picking up his shirt, Trewent says, "in case you missed my son's
explanation," he hands his righty over to Kira, "the name's `Trew', short
for Trewent, but I better never hear you call me that!"


>From Scotty's perspective, he senses something, which for a 9-year old, is
quite mature, "my dad likes girls, but he likes boys too!"


Perhaps Scotty had heard it over too many times from Trew's friends, liking
both sexes, enough to know he more than liked being their friend.


"Is that so?" Kira's whole personality lights up brighter than an intruder
alert light.


Much as he wanted to swat Scotty on the bum, Trew says "Uh yeah. I hope it
doesn't turn you off?"


Off? Hardly. On? It drove Kira to suddenly be more than friendly, "been in
town long?"


Scotty thought he was being spoken to, replies, "nope. We got here
yesterday."


"Oh. Well then, you probably don't know the store in town makes their own
ice cream?"


Trew was a little confused. Was Kira trying to pick up him, or his son, "I
like ice cream too?" hands swab his tee shirt over his abs.


They walk back to the drive at the front of the ranch.


Scotty did most of the talking, mainly about himself, asking if there were
any kids around here his age.


If set the wheels in motion, Kira, in her efforts to get alone with Trew,
"There's my nephew, Mauri. Wanna meet him sometime?"


"Can I? When? I'm anckshish to make friends, y'know?"


Trew translates, "Trust me, ever since we arrived yesterday, it's been the
main question on Scotty's mind!"


Throwing Trew a curve, Kira says, "oh, and you're not out to make some?"


"Maybe," Trew smiles.


So, hopping in Kira's truck, the three head into town. Taking a detour, she
pulls up at Alice and Maurice's home brand new, just moved into, up on Deer
Run Estates.


Out of the car, Trew is eyeing the place up, top to bottom, east to west,
"Wow, quite a place they've got here!"


Scotty, he could care less they were standing in a horseshoe driveway,
neatly coiffed with shrubs and flowers and the big luxury house right there
in front of them, "I hope he's not eating dinner!"


Getting out, she gestures foe Scotty' s hand, like ready to take him in
marriage, "c'mon, if you want to meet your new friend?"


Little Scotty was preparing himself for this. The 8-year old had no problem
with his father liking girls or boys, but about himself, his dad had told
him, it wasn't polite to tell a boy, when he first met him, even though he
was handsome, not a good thing to start off a conversation.


That was the good thing for Scotty, his dad having boy-friends and
girl-friends, he was slowly learning how to act and associate with same or
different relationships.


There to greet him at the door, indeed, was a handsome kid, Scotty just
gulping, when Kira introduces them!


Mauri had a badminton racket in his hand, but outback practicing on his
own, which is why he skipped over telling his own name, "hey, you know how
to play badminton?"


By then, Alice had come to the door and wondered why Kira was making new
friends stand outside!


%


Marco, he decided having a friend with a long, fat cock could prove
advantageous. It sure would make him `the man', bringing to the club a guy
who could really blast open a willing victim's manhole.


Eating out, it became more of an interview for Hwan Jeong. Though, he had
to admit, baby-back-ribs not his idea of what Cowboy food was like.


Of guys eating pork and beans, Marco says, "I hope you're joking. Can you
image the fallout?"


His intentions were hiring ranch hands who could toil side by side with
others and do a decent days work, not succumb to a surface gas attack!


"I never learn to make this. I can learn. You get me teacher?"


Right off, Marco was thinking, `he's not asking much, is he?' Second
opinion, in a nutshell, Hwan had given Marco an account of how he made it
from Korea, through dangerous territories, harrowing situations and
friendly ones, with nothing for barter, except the use of his tool!


Not which he was thinking of walking around tomorrow, looking like he had
ridden a horse for the first time, Marco more thought about his own
son. Lack of good judgement, or call it wanting to play the field, he
thought about what Hwan has been through, a 16-year old wandering the
world, not knowing where he was going to wind up.


Seeing him not only for his bravery, but Hwan was a survivor, even though
it was not his own fault to pack up and leave a cozy family life. Hwan was
out to get something and kept on until he got it...well, got to it. Marco's
intentions were to make Hwan sustainable, without having him worry where
his next meal was coming from. His idea had to work both ways, reason he
decided on hiring the Korean.


Another thought, Hwan needed to stay out of trouble. Old habits are tough
to break. Marco wanting the 21-year old to have better opportunities, felt
he needed a man, rather than putting his big worm on a hook and going
fishing whenever the urge arose.


Karl, of `Karl's Cafe', which during evening hours, after they hauled
dinner tables to the walls, would turn the cafe into a line dancing
club. He also had a nephew, Zack, who helped out the business while home
from college.


More than any times of their lives, Karl and Zack got to know each other
over an unfortunate event in Zack's life.


Last year of high school Zack decided on coming out to his family, back in
Illinios. With figuring there only 3 weeks left of high school, before
graduation, he would be in the clear, as opposed to those he's heard of in
the church community, whom got kicked out for being gay. He thought he
would fare well, his father being head preacher at the church.


However, he didn't receive the glad tidings he had hoped for and instead of
waiting to be sent to a brainwashing camp, he grabbed up some stuff, hopped
on a bus and found his way out to where his uncle lived, in Owl Creek.


Zack had only heard his father mention his `demon brother', Karl, having
taken up with being a wicked homosexual. After a week of digging through
some of his father's office files, Zack found an address and number. The
number was discontinued. He searched for a `Karl Barklee' in Owl Creek, but
came up empty. Then, he got a brilliant idea. What better way to find a
lost relative, than the police department.


It so happened, Marco had just left the courtroom and had to find some
papers at the police station, which did not make the transfer to court. The
station was busy that day, getting ready for Memorial Day weekend. What
with the town parade, fireworks and several veterans taking part in
speeches and recollections of the wars they served through, who could fault
the police for putting their jobs on hold during various times of the day.


When the phone rang, Deputy Jack was very busy on a different line, to the
party store, trying to figure out what color paint would go great with red,
white and blue. So, when he picked up on Zack's call, he just handed it
Marco, saying, "some kid on the phone with a missing persons question," and
to `make' Marco have interest, "sounds hot!"


Well, Marco took the call, not solely on the dude on the other end sounding
fox, but it meant another paycheck, which would come in very handy for
paying off Rusty's boarding school tuition. Of course, he wasn't doing Jack
a favor, without a kickback!


Right off, Marco already knew Karl Barklee. After a week of chatting back
and forth with Zack, in no time he was meeting `the hot, foxy voice' at the
bus station.


After Marco gives Hwan a short rendition of Zack and his history, he says,
"so you see, you two have a lot in common already."


In his own perception, Hwan says, "you match-maker man who make match up
with men?"


Driving up the mountain to Karl's Cafe, Marco had to crack a smile. The
inflection of the Korean's broken English gave him a jolly feeling inside,
like the punch line of a Mario Cantone joke.


"I say a funny?"


Calming his laughter, Marco explains, "I've been a lot of things, but never
accused of hooking up men, unless it was with `yours truly'!"


"Oh-h-h," Hwan acts like he's been through a revelation, "you want me hook
up to Zack. I do it if you want me to. No problemo!"


Marco went on to say he wasn't hosting a dating service, "No, no, no...what
I meant is, you and Zack have much in common, but if you meet him and
neither one of you hit it off, at least you have a friend in town. Right?"


"Oh. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get you." However, there was one thing which irked
Hwan, "what you think he say about big cock I have?"


Marco rolls his eyes and wanting to give out the best advice, "keep it
under control until the right moment arrives."


Getting it, Hwan says, "Ok. I wait."


Pulling into the cafe parking lot, there was a moderate amount of
business. Zack, he was working during the day as a short order cook, at
night, `the Club', a different kind of adventure, those looking for an
authentic leather experience. The only experience Zack had, other than a
college student, was odd jobs at his uncle's cafe.


Maintenance at `The Club' suited him fine. Really, other than mopping up
spent semen, there wasn't much else to do.

First day, Zack wasn't sure he liked the idea of just mopping the basement
floor. Regardless, Marco had gotten him the high paying job, for
maintenance, and Zack wasn't about to let him down. He was a good, honest
worker and in just two weeks, he was promoted to cleaning up `the workers';
helping guys to shower who were too weary to do it themselves, applying
ointment to abrasions: nips, back, balls, etc. It was sure a change of pace
and often a worker would hand him a tip. $10 here, $5 there, it all added
up.


Right now though, since the maintenance guy had called out at his uncle's
cafe, Zack was emptying the trash. When the lid to the dumpster hadn't
closed, he lifted the lid and hung over the edge, thinking he saw
`something.'


Marco and Hwan parked close to the building, approaching the ass hanging
out of the dumpster. Hwan, who Marco already knew had a sense of humor,
says, "maybe I get to Zack, before I know him?"


With a dude, his ass highly profiled, how could a guy not comment, but
sometimes Marco sensed things, having a different take on it, "I know the
difficulties, of having such a big," Marco gestures with both hands, like
measuring up an Italian loaf, "tool, but you've got to learn some
self-control, Hwan."


"Oh! You think I be serious?"


"Sounded like.."


"No, no, no. I like to try be romantic."


"Good answer," Marco says, before reaching up grabbing the back of Zack's
belt, "need a hand?"


Of that, Zack did, but he didn't come up empty-handed, "thanks, I was
finding it tough pulling us both out!"


Hwan, eyes wide open exclaims, "a baby?"


"Wait," Marco says, "you found it in there, in the dumpster?"


"Damn Marco, it's not an `it' and yes, I found the baby in there."


Right away Marco was on his cell, dialing 911. Then he went all `detective'
on Zack, "Did you see anyone with a baby come into the cafe today?"


"Um-m," Zack thought on it, distracted by Marco's companion, "no. Who's
this?"


"Me?" Hwan says.


Said in a sarcastic manner, it coming out derogatory in sounding, Zack
says, "well I didn't mean him!"


Truthfully, while Marco and Zack chatted, Hwan was already checking out
Zack, by way of his ass hanging over the ledge.


Even though he was on his cell with Detective Magnetti, Marco heard every
word Zack said, but he couldn't get off the line to say anything. By the
time his call ended, he turns around, finding Zack, Hwan and the baby,
gone. He knows he said he would wait for law enforcement to arrive, but
also had an insatiable desire to find out if, or if not, Hwan and Zack were
hitting it off. The logical place for them to go, was back inside the cafe.


%


Back at the ranch, Rusty was impressed at how unselfish Monte could
be. Though, there was this inner voice telling Rusty to `be careful.' Not
which he minded Monte older-aged, he could tell, he thought him to be
sincere. In theory, Rusty knew instant hookups, which developed into much
more than occasional sex, was a hard thing to come by. So, he was being
reserved about stuff like cuddling and kissing.


Monte wasn't being anything more than nice, saying the bureau would be
better over against another wall and helping Rusty to move it. He did
admire how Rusty's biceps flexed whenever they heaved the heavy piece of
furniture, remarking, "Might have been better if we emptied it, huh?"


Taking off his cowboy hat, Rusty wipes the sweat from his brow, saying, "I
wish you had thought of that five minutes ago. Then again, at least you
thought of it!"

With his ass on the ledge of the three drawer bureau, Rusty sat there,
hands grabbing at the piped edging, staring.


>From an observer, it looked like they were headed for some lip to lip
action, but instead, Monte, from his own experiences, found it better not
to rush into things, "By the way, they cleared debris from the edge of the
pool. It's the only place which escaped destruction. And, being you're
sweaty and I am, maybe we could..."


Realistically, feeling some throbbing action, Rusty realizing it not being
his heart, "sure. I'm game!"


"If I were home, I'd be able to find a swimsuit in no time."


"No problem!" Turning around, Rusty rifled through the drawers, pulling out
2 speedos, asking, "I hope you're okay with low risers?"


Having a choice between light blue and orange, Monte chooses blue, "I
wouldn't want to stand out over you!"


Slowly they both stripped in front of each other, the two ever mindful of
what lay under their clothes.


How could either not judge how the other looked, a point blank situation,
Monty complimenting, "you keep up with working out, do you?"


Rusty wanted to return the compliment, but Monte wasn't `carved up', "I
do." Not meant to insult, "maybe we can workout together sometime?"


Three years before he hits a milestone, Monte says, "would be nice if I was
chiseled like you, before I hit the big 3-oh!"


Monte was hoping Rusty was okay with an older guy, but also one which did
not match physically. He wasn't fat, but had a little pudgy stomach. It's
not he overate or drank beer like it was going out of style, but how
Monte's genes clicked, since the beginning of his time on earth.


With kind attitude, Rusty says, patting the back of his hand against the
stripe down Monte's stomach, "that's the nice thing about noticing stuff
about ourselves, when we're young. We have all our lives to work on
problems we realize we have now, instead of waiting till it's too late."


Whatever the subject, Monte was dwelling on not allowing the moment slip by
and `doing something about' how he felt right now, grabs Rusty by the back
of the head, forcing a kiss.


More surprised than anything, Rusty let his senses swim, just staring.


Hand still in place, but lips detached, Monte uses them to speak out, "uh,
I guess I was out of place doing that, huh?"


Shrugging both shoulders, Rusty says nervously, "um, better than in front
of Hoot. Man, does he get jealous!"


He was joking.


Monte was not, "I can see that happening."


Seeing Monte all serious-like, Rusty says, "um, did I mention, when I was
feeding him before, I put in a good word for you?"


Hand sliding from the back of Rusty's neck, down over a shoulder, for the
first time Monte feels the smooth chest, "did you mention to him, I like to
cuddle?"


"How could I," Rusty plays along, "when I didn't know it myself?"


Enough of that stuff, the barn was not reflecting heat back up into the
atmosphere, nor absorbed into the cement ground, "how about that swim?"


They both were playing it cool.


On the way over to the pool, Monte was a little playful, saying that Rusty
packed the speedo he was wearing, very nicely.


Rusty returns the compliment, "I liked you better when you didn't pack the
speedo!"


%


Not minding her own business, which is what Kira liked doing most of the
time, she found quite a lot of information in all of 40 minutes, about
Scott Trewent Dumbarton III, and she hadn't even opened her mouth, except
to interject now and then, `oh really?'


Alice, after sending her husband out in the backyard to play badminton with
Mauri and Scotty, turned like a vicious animal on Trew, wanting to know
where he was from - Seattle, what he did for income motivation - high
school teacher, relationships - widower, to a woman, and this'n'that.


When Scotty came running inside, he was frantic with worry, "Dad, come
quick! The birdie is stuck in the tree and none of us can reach it!"


Standing, setting his ice tea down. Trew didn't touch booze until the happy
hour. "As you can tell, I have a way with reaching things too high for a
normal human!"


At 6'4, Trew had the right to brag and after going outside, the father and
son perform, like a well-rehearsed circus act, lifting Scotty up.


"Higher dad," Scotty directs his father into action.


Hands at the sides of Scotty's ribcage, he tosses the 8-year old, refitting
hands around the kid's waist.


"Higher, daddy."


"You got it," Trew replies, giving him another toss.


This time his father tightly secures hands around his upper legs, which
still wasn't high enough, Scotty saying, "I think we need launch mode!"


All those standing around could see the tight relationship between father
and son, Scotty with a trusting attitude. Both feet now in his father's
hands, he's launched higher than where the badminton birdie got stuck in
the tree, "Got it!"


Falling back to earth, Trew catches Scotty right under the arms and to
reward him for a job well done, "I knew you could do it," gives him a peck
on the cheek.


Then, Trew was in hot water, Mauri wanting his father to do the same with
him!


Maurice West wasn't the type of guy who spent many hours in the gym, or at
sports, other than backyard badminton. Though, with the same genes as his
younger brothers, Ricky and Clyde, he found a pride in people asking him if
he worked out.


"You'll have to teach me that trick," Maurice says to Trew.


"It takes a lot of practice, but sure. Anytime."


Since Kira and Alice remained inside to rustle up some barbecue, Scotty and
Mauri, trying to purposely get the birdie stuck in the tree. Maurice
corners Trew, to talk business.


Trew kind of had an idea why Maurice suddenly wanted to talk business,
having seen Alice, out of the corner of his eye, talking up a storm with
the attorney, while he tossed Scotty.


Although he was paying much attention to tossing Scotty up higher and
higher, he smiled, thinking of everything he chatted about with Kira. He
bet his bottom dollar, she was passing it on!


He had no doubts, when Maurice questions, "so, what's your business here in
town?"


Trew knew, in a split second, he would need to figure out exactly what he
wanted to do. For certain, he was not that enthused about returning to
teaching high school wood shop. Trying to make his mind on what he really
wanted to do, other than apply for a teaching job at Owl Creek High School,
"my business is, building a future for my son and myself and...well, really
it's all about Scotty. A friend of mine saw a notice on the Gay Pride
Center bulletin board and she thought it would be good if I got away from
Seattle, settle into a small town and see where things went from there."


"Bold ambitions," Maurice commends him. "Then, you probably know about the
ranch resort and what's about to take place with regard to the future?"


It was vague for Trew. Really, he didn't know much, but had an idea, "my
plan was to apply for a teaching position, any grade, or if a position
opened up, I have a couple of degrees in school administration. You
wouldn't happen to know if any of these positions are available?"


The father and son duo had hit town a day ago. However, months before, Trew
had given notice at the high school. His friend, Cindy, who had alerted him
to hiring at a ranch, thought `something' better than nothing. She also
found a room at a cheap motel.


"I'll inquire at the high school, but if you need something for the summer,
Cleg's Ranch Resort is looking for a director for summer camp?"


Thinking along the lines of the ranch raising horses, training them, Trew
asks, "oh, I hadn't realized it was that `kind' of ranch?"


"It's not."


Now Trew was totally confused, "It's not and it is? I'm confused here."


He would need to remain a little confused, Kira and Alice bringing trays of
food out of the house, needing Maurice's help. Though, needing a job to pay
for at least things concerning Scotty's welfare, Trew needed to find some
income and soon. His dead wife's losing battle with cancer put a terrible
drain on their savings and after selling the house, he still didn't have
much in his bank account.


In between ferrying burgers, buns, hot dogs, salad and condiments outdoors,
Trew had a confident feeling he and Scotty would not be starving anytime
soon!


%


Ricky's apartment, wasn't exactly the place for a long, drawn out tumble in
the sheets. In lieu of that, they hopped on Jordan's motorcycle and
fled. The only other place of privacy, was Marco's home.


They had a nice time getting to know each other, Ricky learning quite a bit
about how Jordan met Rusty, at the boarding school and ensuing times.


Ricky lay there, wanting to get it on, but was patient to hear Jordan's
story, which caused a bell to go off, when mentioning `Marco.'


"You know Marco?" it made Ricky pop off from the foreplay of licking
Jordan's dick.


Placing a hand on Ricky's short haircut, Jordan jokes, "you lick...I'll
talk!"


It was a rocky telling of Marco knowing Jordan's father from the army,
because just as he remembered a detail, his throbbing cock made him forget
where he left off!


However, Ricky got the gist of it, Jordan hired as the house-man of Rusty's
boarding school unit. At the time of Jordan's interview, it was a shoo-in,
his father having saved Marco's ass more than on once. Tail end of the
phone interview, Marco award him the job. Jordan hadn't even met Marco face
to face. Still, some things could wait, drawn away from Marco's office by
Ricky's hot good looks!


Ricky had pieced enough together, Jordan making sure Rusty didn't get into
any trouble, or that no one gave him any. By the looks of the man, Jordan
could very portray the picture of an enforcer.


"Yeah," Jordan comments on the job he was hired for, although it sounded
like he commended Ricky for the blowjob, "I was under the impression, if
anyone does Rusty dirty, he's doing it to Marco!"


"And that was the case?"


Jordan didn't answer right away, just the look he gave Ricky, telling him,
`less talk, more action!'


Pointing to Jordan's tall stalk, Ricky says, "I'll should get back on it,
right?"


>From then on, things moved quite quickly, not the boarding school tale,
but rather Jordan dishing out orders, telling Ricky to `assume the
position,' and then going at his ass with full endeavor.


Most likely both heard cell phones ringing, but had a very good reason for
ignoring those jingle-tones.


While Jordan lay face down, recovering, Ricky had cleaned up hastily and
checked his phone. Whether Jordan heard or not, "Hey, my sis is putting on
a barbecue and wants us to make it."


Jordan didn't make a sound, still trying to deal with the euphoria of
filling a condom.


"She says there's an out-of-towner there."


Ricky was teasing, which is why he wasn't building up any hopes right
now. Not while Jordan still remained `semi-comatose,' "As sis claims, he's
a really tall, hot muscled gay man!"


Well, Kira had really mentioned `bi', but in Ricky's gay encyclopedia, `bi'
fell under `gay'. Whateva, that was his ticket, Jordan doing a crunch,
stepping off the bed, "we better shower!"


%


Trew was under the impression, people showing up from times to time, taking
time out to meet and greet, that the whole thing had been a planned picnic,
"I hope Scotty and I aren't intruding on any family plans?"


Only moments ago, Mauri had come over to his father, asking if he and
Scotty could go swimming. Rarely was Mauri allowed in the pool after
dark. Being there were ample people around, his father made an exception.


He also knew how their gay friends could be and told Kira to `circle', get
the word out, to keep `it' covered!


While Mauri took Scotty to his bedroom, to find a swimsuit which would fit
his friend, Maurice was sure he had something to fit Trew!


Being `men' about it, the two had stripped down, Maurice tossing Trew one
of his swim trunks. A rightly nice shape, Trew had preferred a speedo, but
would settle for the leggy shorts.


He had hoped he was being incognito with checking out Maurice, but
apparently not!


"I'm not gay," Maurice comes out with, after having felt Trew's eyes all
over him, especially when they hikes `downtown!'


Conscious of it, it would not be the first time Trew had stood accused,
with a line all ready, "I didn't think so. I mean, you act so masculine!"


However, this line would only work for straight guys whom acted butch. If
not, Trew had a couple of other lines memorized.


"Though," he smiles, stepping into a swimsuit, pulling it up to an inch
below his bellyhole swath, "it's not like I don't mind having a gay
playmate now and then?"


`Okay,' Trew thought on it, Maurice having stepped across the room, with
each word spoken, till they were standing a few feet apart. Unlike Maurice,
Trew had sized up the swim trunks before slipping into them. Right now, he
held it over his pubic region like a shower curtain, "so, you're more `bi',
than `straight,' or just sometimes?"


"It's complicated."


`Of course,' Trew thinking, `what isn't?'


Now, with a taste honey worse than none at all, Trew asks, "well, it would
be nice to pursue this conversation, but I think I hear the pitter-patter
of feet in the hallway!"


Trew had wondered, if he didn't cut their conversation short, what would
evolve, but like everything else in his life, Scotty always came first.


Breaking up the atmosphere of almost pouncing on each other, Maurice says,
"I'll go find us some towels."


So, when he goes to feed each leg in, Trew found out something about
himself, `oh no,' he had to use his hand to stuff his cock in. Worse case
scenario, after packing it in, from the outside view, he had sprouted a
tent!


"Here you go," Maurice hands Trew a towel.


"Thanks," he smiled.


Maurice led the way, Trew following up the `rear,' wondering what Maurice
thought of his pup-tent!


While upstairs changing, Trew notices he's missed a lot. Returning to the
outdoors, wide backyard with the badminton setup, pool to the left side of
the spacious yard, the rest of the yard was dotted with people in
conversation.


Music carried over the crowd, an iPod hooked up to a speaker system,
playing some country tunes. Even though the beat slow, some tried
line-dancing. Some failed terribly at it. Not only the beat to blame, a
beer bottle in one hand helped to throw the dancer off.


He surely felt like an out-of-towner, everyone knowing
everyone. Fortunately, either Alice or Kira had his back, introducing Trew
to anyone who approached.


However, with one certain dude, Maurice steps in, saying, "Trew, I'd like
you to meet my baby brother, Clyde."


Having taught high school, even though Clyde seemed older, Trew knew it was
cool if a guy warded off a handshake for Clyde's reaction, a meek handheld
wave.


"Hi."


Maurice was called over to the barbecue by his wife, "Maur, did you
remember I told you about the barbecue tanks needing to be filled, saying
you'd take care of it?"


"Oops," Maurice says, as if to Trew and Clyde, "looks like I'm in the dog
house tonight!"


Not getting it entirely, Trew interrogates Clyde, "Doghouse?"


"Same as sleeping on the couch...no sex!"


Funny to Trew, he laughs, Clyde smiling.


Then suddenly, Trew feels a wet hand slip into his, "dad, c'mon in. The
water," Scotty pulls on his father's hand, "it's so-o-o-o warm. You won't
believe it!"


Mauri was there right beside him, saying, "did you bring your swimsuit,
Uncle Clyde?"


Cool, calm, collective, even though Maurice's 24-year old brother hadn't
thought of it beforehand, "sure. Got it on underneath my clothes," he gives
Trew a wink!


Little could Clyde guess, Trew was thinking, `Well, take it off and let's
see what you got!'


Clyde, he thought Trew was giggling over his wisecrack!


Only drawback to Clyde's idea, `suit' underneath, he stepped inside the
house, Trew saying to himself, `rats!'


Both father and son sitting on the side of the pool, the 8-year old, almost
nine, says, "you like Clyde?"


Trew gives Scotty a questionable look, "why do you say that? I mean, how do
you even know...you know?"


"Mauri told me Clyde is gay and he don't even care if you're old enough to
be his father!"


Watching Scotty dive in from the sitting position, Trew thought, Mauri
being a very informed boy.


Then, with a slap of wetness, Clyde's ass falls to the pool pavement,
"what's up?"


With the inside knowledge, Trew glances down at Clyde's midsection...well,
lower, "not you, obviously!"


Clyde retorts, "don't tell me Mauri's been sharing information with your
son?"


"You're a mindreader!"


"I know kids," Clyde speaks, like giving a college thesis, "that's why you
don't go telling them all your business. By the way, Kira tells me you were
a teacher?"


In saying, Clyde shot a hole in his theory, about kids being talkative.


"Oh really? Amazing."


"What is?"


"Kids repeating stuff you don't want them to say in public and here, Kira
is telling you all of `my' business?"


Neither were serious, more like toying, Clyde saying, "well, you know why
she said it?"


"Because she wants me to feel up your junk?"


Putting it to Trew, Clyde says, "oh, much more than that!"


Diving in, Clyde made a beeline for Mauri.


Trew thought about it and even though he would never become involved with
any of his cute high school kids, `Clyde', he ain't no high school student!


About ready to dive in, seeing Clyde surfacing right near Scotty, Trew's
interrupted by another swimsuit slapping the shoreline.


"Hey, I'm Ricky!"


"Oh yeah, Ricky," Trew digs his palm into Ricky's, "Alice has told me so
much about you."


"All good, I hope?"


There was some weird stuff, Trew not bringing it up, rather, "She says
you're a doctor at the hospital."


Knowing how Alice can be quite the gossip, Ricky says, "I suppose she told
you how I operate?"


Trew knew this a trick question, "oh, you're a surgeon?"


He wasn't fooling Ricky, but rather than go where it might get tricky,
around the kids and all, "yeah, I'm quite the cut up!"


Laughing his ass off, Trew did the same, though maybe a little forced.


"Hey, how's it going, guys?"


Rather than sit to Trew's left, or on Ricky's right, Jordan tries wedging
himself in between!


"Really, Jordan?" Ricky comments.


Tight fit, butt to butt, Trew says, "You're Jordan," feels good already,
shoulder sliding in next to his, like an expertly parked car.


Slapping Ricky on the chest with the back of his hand, Jordan says to Trew,
"I hope this guy has been behaving himself?"


"I just got here 5 seconds ago?" Ricky interjects.


"Oh, right."


Trew theorizes, "you guys connected?"


Ricky, the whit, with quite a sense of humor, "not now, but you should have
seen us an hour ago!"


It was followed by another round of hardy laughter, mainly Ricky, making
sure his joke was `laughed at', even though dominated by his big mouth
flapping!


Not appreciative, Jordan slaps his whole arm against his lover's back, "go
swimming, Ricky."


Now that was funny, watching Ricky take a forced dive, seeing bubbles
surface, probably still laughing!


Figuring it so, Trew says, "so, how long have you two been together?"


"Three hours, tops," Jordan says, then pops the question, "what about
yourself?"


"Well," Trew stares into the water, watching Clyde playing with the kids,
"all my life I was under the impression I was gay. Then I was straight,
long enough to have a son...Scotty...that's him, there."


"Divorced?" Jordan asks.


"Widowed. Cancer."


Even though Jordan saw as providence, he sympathized.


"Thanks, but as I have come to look at it, maybe it's God's will."


"You're a religious man?"


"Uh, no," Trew frankly shares, "I'm not a hater."


At 28-years old, it's the scene Jordan has come by, escaping from, "yeah,
same story here. I once lived in Wyoming, but pressure from the church
community drove me away. Yet, when I moved out east, the Boston area, I
found all churches aren't the same."


Liking Jordan talking up his history wasn't a bad thing, giving Trew the
opportunity to check out what was under the cowboy hat. Like Clyde, Jordan
wasn't suited up in traditional swimwear. Although, there wasn't much to
study, except the swimmers hairy chest, striped, crinkled up from sitting
down and then most likely soft, what he packed in his swimming-briefs.


"So, there you have it. My whole life story, up until my father calls me
one day, from out of the blue and says I need to call Marco."


"Seems like an elusive character. Everyone talks about him, like he's a
god, but I have yet to meet the man!"


Ricky, after melding in with the rest of the pool population, circled
around and got out. Right now he stood at Jordan's back, saying, "Bon
voyage, lover-boy!"


With Jordan over the edge, Ricky once again drops onto his butt.


"I think I felt the ground shake!"


"Ha-ha," Ricky was amused, "so, you get all the dirt?"


"Oh yeah," Trew says, "now I know all of your dirty little secrets!"


Before Ricky could find out which ones, Trew dove off the edge!


With the barbecue on the fritz, Kira, the second person to give Maurice
grief over doing something which should have already been done, at his
wife's request, volunteered to go into town and pickup another propane
tank.


She knew the Trading Post would be closed, driving to the hardware store, a
few minutes more away. After getting a new tank of propane, she decided to
get a couple of six-packs of beer, not knowing if Alice stocked enough.


On the way in, she notices a girl, sitting on the window ledge of the
liquor store. Not thinking anything of it, she goes in, gets 3-6packs and
comes out. Again, doing what she always does, minding everyone else's
business, she makes it her business, "Hey girl, you okay?"


Having a hoodie on, she lifts her chin, saying, "who, me?"


A female `jock', Kira easily balances 3 six-packs, glancing up and down the
street, "ain't no-fuckin'-buddy around except us?"


Kira could tell she was crying and another thing, "you're not from around
here, are you?"


"No," she meekly says, but still remained seated.


Placing the beer in the back of her truck, Kira comes back and sits right
next to the girl, "you wanna talk about it?"


Whatever the girl was sensing, one of the signals was she could trust Kira,
which is why she poured out her heart, soul and mind.


After telling Kira everything, being in college, getting pregnant, or
rather date-raped, showing up at home during spring break, her family not
sympathizing with her, "by the way, my name's Katrina. Katrina deVoe."


Kira, who has been through some unpleasantries in life, could side with
her, "good to meet you." She introduced herself before Katrina opened up,
"well, if it's a place you need, I can't offer for myself, but I got
friends. By the way, where is your baby? Did you leave him with your
folks?"


It's then Katrina reports, she had left her baby for a second, outside the
restaurant up on the hill, for a moment, while she ran inside to try to get
something eat...


"I know the place. Karl's Cafe?"


Katrina didn't know, other than it being up on a hill, along a main road,
"I dunno. All I know is, I left Martin outside for a moment and when I came
back, he was gone, stolen and it's all my fault!"


Having played mother to the Valdez-Pau'ua-West family for enough years, she
readily took Katrina into her arms. Under her wing, she pulls out her cell
phone. In seconds she's talking with Marco.


%


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.