Date: Sun, 14 Aug 2016 17:53:59 +0000
From: TCHASE MCPHEE <survivalgame@outlook.com>
Subject: ?JoLLy RaNCHeRs? 18

% This work of fiction is set in the format of real-world
situations. Identifying details to real people, alive or dead, is entirely
coincidental in nature.


% States and countries have various rules regarding reading or viewing
`adult material'. It is up to you, the reader, to research this subject,
abiding by laws and conscience. The pages of this story contain `adult
material', intended for an `adult audience.' Bypass this warning at your
own risk!


% If sexual scenes involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then
why are you here? Seriously, if dude-to-dude sex stuff makes you wanna barf
or is gonna screw up your mind, you should not read this story.


% Sexual safety matters. Guys, this is fiction. In real life, use
protection and I don't mean going out and hiring a security guard...unless
he gives your nuts and bolt a jolt!



Hey dudes, if you have enjoyed reading NiFTy stories as much as I have over
the years, consider adding some $upport for `internet $pace' or else I will
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%


"JoLLy RaNCHeRs" 18

WriTten by T. Chase McPhee


^   0   ^


%




%


Since being put in charge of accounting, Shane's job at Post & Beam Lumber
was finished. He also tired of waiting in line to spend his load. Resting a
hard shaft on the palm of his hand, Shane went the rounds 3 times,
badgering Marco to take care of business, to either wind up the fucking or
pull out of Wyatt's ass canal and give him a chance.


So, after Marco telling him to `fuck off,' Shane did just that, pocketing,
or rather stuffing his cock and balls back in crammed space, zipping up and
getting out of the place, with an annoyed attitude, "well, fuck you too,
Marco!"


If he were holding the purse strings, Shane not dependent on Marco for his
job, maybe he'd take matters into his own hands. Grumbling over it, Shane
could have jerked himself off, but knew there would be time for that
later. Then suddenly, the dark cloud hanging over his head lifted. When he
took the job as accountant, for an out-of-towner, Shane knew he would need
to start all over, from the ground up, filling in the blank registering of
his cell phone. Growing up in Basking Ridge, New Jersey, he had New York
City as his playground and being a leather-top, he made many friends!


Even though it wasn't his job, when Marco hired him, he put it upon himself
to check out the files of every employee who was hired. Sitting in his
office one day, flipping through folders, he didn't have certain info, like
`size', but age and appearance was enough of a guide to type certain names
and cell numbers into the memory banks of his phone.


Thinking on that, while driving to the hospital, Shane pictured Marco,
hanging over Wyatt's ass, dismissing it, "gonna have plenty of men to
choose from, so fuck you, Marco!"


Then, acted like an ordinary, scared citizen, putting the exclamation point
on his statement, a horn beep, realizing it was a cop car in front of him
at the stop sign!


It made Shane smile, seeing the officer look in the mirror, pause and then
open the door of the patrol car. Strangely, the officer, whom he recognizes
as Deputy Jack, headed his way, tilts his sunglasses, mouths the words,
`oh, it's you,' waves a hand and then gets back in his car.


"Must be true," Shane thought about how word gets around in a small
town. He didn't knock it.


Though, as the cop car pulls away and he drives on, it occurs to Shane,
either Marco has spoken to the officer on his behalf or else...and this
made him smile, it had happened again, his drop-dead, gorgeous looks has
gotten him off the hook again!


It also could have been the officer not having an interest in men, but
Shane swore Marco said the 6'5 cop, looking like his muscular bod was going
to bust right of his uniform, looked to fit the description of this one.


Also into fabricating stories during spare moments, like lying in bed with
a hand wrapped around his pole, Shane thought what a hot jerk off the tall
deputy would make.


Right now though, thoughts like that, if allowed to perpetuate, could get
him into trouble. Purposefully, Shane purchased dark suits, in case he show
`stain himself,' but sometimes a shiny, wet spot could be picked up by the
naked eye. On his way to the hospital, he didn't want to take any chanced,
so settled on taking in the sights of the town, driving there.


Arriving at the hospital, he runs into Ricky. Since everyone else was busy,
Shane elected him to show him where the hospital records were.


Shane was unhappy to find a pile of paper file folders.


"Don't tell me the hospital is still in the 20th century?"


Ricky, knowing things were a little backward, "uh, yeah, but soon Doc
Krempl says we'll be catching up."


"I see."


Ricky was happy to help Shane, but sad because he dressed in a full suit,
dress shirt and tie. One of the things he loved, was peering down the open
shirt of the guy he was talking with, seeing what he `owned.'


Opening a folder, looking at a paper, something scribbled on it, front and
back, Shane asks, "what's this?"


Shrugging both shoulders, Ricky says, "looks like Doc Krempl's writing. You
should've caught him when he was here."


"I suppose he's in surgery?"


"Not sure. I think he went out for coffee."


"Fine," Shane tosses the papers on the desk. "I'll be back."


Ricky bit a lip. For certain, the man needed to get relaxed and surely he
could write a prescription, which would entail more than taking 2 aspirin
and calling him in the morning. Shane Dean was a hot man and for Ricky's
imagination, he would certainly drop to his knees in an instant.


There was one thing standing in Ricky's way, the fact he met Jordan
Barre. In a way, he looked upon it as a connection to Rusty, his mentor at
the boarding school back east. Watching Shane take his exit, Ricky was
proud of himself. It seemed he and Jordan had much in common, more than
just being a year apart in age.


It made him smile just now, how well their puzzle pieces fit together, in
the fabric of life. The oldest of several siblings, Jordan took up the
slack in a one-parent family. Unlike himself, when Jordan went off to
college, even though achieving a degree in education, American history, he
wasn't sure what he wanted to do with that degree.


Jordan had admitted to Ricky, taking the position of `house-man' at the
private, exclusive boarding school, one thing he hadn't planned on was
meeting Rusty!


Regardless, whatever happened, to be a part of Jordan's history, this was
the here and now and with a place to live, Ricky was confident he would
find his true calling. He even mentioned teaching high school history,
which Jordan didn't shoot him down.


His reverie fading, Ricky looks up, "Oh my god!"


"What?" Jordan asks Ricky.


"I was just thinking about you!"


Walking up to Ricky, Jordan didn't care if they were in a public place,
slipping arms inside the hospital blues, going lip-to-lip.


Ricky's arms hung to his sides, "uh, I'm on duty," he abruptly ended the
sweet affection.


"Sorry," Jordan backs off. "I probably should know better."


Smiling, Ricky's not too harsh on him, "yeah, you should! So, what's up?
Did you talk to the sup?"


Taking Ricky's advice, Jordan did drop by the board of ed. office, "that
Dr. Dinkelspiel is quite a character!"


Ricky never lost the smile, in fact it turning `toothy,' "Dinky didn't put
a hex on you and drop to his knees?"


Laughing at Ricky's antics, Jordan replies, "no offense, but I'm not into
`grampas'!"


Putting a finger to his lips, Ricky thinks, "I'm surprised he hasn't
decided retiring. Then again, he always said the only way the public could
remove him from office, was in a casket!"


"It's not the impression I got," Jordan says, like he has inside info.


"Oh? Now that would certainly make you different than all the rest!"


"In fact," Jordan is quiet on purpose.


"Yes?" Ricky is slowly falling desperate for affection, closing in.


Backing off a little, Jordan says, "Dinky says if I can get my admin degree
by the end of the summer, he's sure to bring my name up as superintendent
of schools?"


"Really? Hmm, and I thought Dinky was a bottom. Guess I'm wrong!"


Smirking, Jordan stood on one foot, other one relaxed, but his thoughts
were not, "for your information, I did it on my own recognition, not
falling to my knees and undoing his zipper!"


"Of course," Ricky shrugs one shoulder, as if flirting, "you're not into
gramps!"


"You're pathetic."


"One of my strengths," Ricky laughs it off.


"Anyway, Dinky says I can do the work online, gave me the website and while
I was there, signed me up. I'm now officially enrolled in `superintendent
school'!"


"Hmm, we should celebrate. Why don't you go over to the Trading Post and
have Chris Dallo outfit you in some leather gear?"


"Like I said, you're pathetic!"


"Where are you going?"


"You're on the clock, or did you forget?"


"Bummer!" Ricky replies.


"Yeah and I still have a job working construction out at the ranch," Jordan
replies.


Happy-go-luckily, Ricky says, "good thing you have an `in' with the boss!"


"Yeah." Fact is, walking out of the hospital, for all of a few minutes,
Jordan had flashbacks of being with Rusty.


He couldn't deny though, his main focus was Ricky. Their time together last
night was great, the sex and all, though he wasn't so sure about all this
talk of kinky stuff. Then, hitting him like a ton of bricks, there Jordan
stood, right in front of the Trading Post!


"Coming or going?" a voice popped up from behind.


"Not sure," Jordan hadn't made up his mind if he were for or against this
leather business.


There were many ways to lead a customer into finding out information, Chris
Dallo knowing about fifty ways, "are you here to outfit yourself or someone
else?"


It could have meant, fishing, camping, rock climbing, cycling, soccer or
any of a number of other sports, or designing a dungeon, complete with what
a guy wore!


`Neither,' Jordan thought, but thinking if he was surely going to assume
such a prestigious position in the community, come the fall, he should
dress the part, "cowboy hat, I guess would be a start."


"C'mon in," Chris leads the way.


"You're here by yourself?" Jordan asks, following Chris.


Getting an impression, Chris says, "can't condemn a man for beating me to
the punch!"


Smiling, Jordan says, "I didn't mean it `that' way!"


It then occurred to Jordan, how Chris `knew,' but let it go.


Then, the possum is out of the bag, Chris asking, "so, are you here for
yourself or shopping for Ricky?"


"Wait," Jordan is not really surprised, but acts the part, "how did you
know that Ricky and me..."


"Something you have to know," Chris informs him, "if you want to learn any
gossip, you either seek out Kira Valdez or Ricky. My luck, your new
boyfriend is Ricky and since that's the case, I'll let you know his
birthday is coming up, so I can help you out with that special present for
someone who has everything."


Okay, well he knew, not which Jordan would agree with them being
`boyfriends,' yet. "Um, I hear you're not from around here?"


"I was away at college, but plan on making this my home. Why do you ask?"


Jordan didn't want to sound accusatory, so words it, "the store keeps
inventory of what is bought and sold?"


Smiling, Chris says, "not so much of the camping stock, but from the back
room, stock is meticulously controlled." Then, before the moment is lost,
"wanna take a look?"


Having an idea of what lay behind lock and key at the back of the store,
Chris having slowly led him in that direction, Jordan says, "would there
happen to be something for Ricky's birthday behind that door?"


Defining it, Chris replies, "I don't think Ricky would be happy with a
fishnet or bicycle helmet!"


"Okay," Jordan replies, "let's see what you've got."


Chris had changed things around since coming back from college. Leaving for
university, he was glad he had discovered the old man's cache, without him
knowing it. For himself, he had cataloged everything in the room with
information from the internet.


For instance, before Chris got to college, he had a general idea of the
sizes of a complete set of buttplugs. In fact, one night, near graduating
from 12th grade, he had come across videos of dudes inserting all sizes of
plugs into greased pleasure holes. Some would howl with pain, followed by
pleasure, when their cocks were massaged. He even recalls sitting up
astutely in his chair, exclaiming, `no way,' when some muscle head, in a
sling, was fitted with a plug bigger than a man's leg! Even though he knew
about this, Chris found it more pleasurable to stick his `own' buttplug up
a dude's canal!


The smaller buttplugs he arranged on the shelf, but the more `ballistic'
types he kept out of sight. Thereby, when a questioning man walked into the
room and saw the unoffensive gear first, it would keep him from making an
about face and running from the store!


Not totally ignorant of stuff like ropes, knowing dudes liked to be tied to
a chair or bed, Jordan picks up, "what the hell?"


"Yeah," Chris takes the man-sized cock and balls out of Jordan's hand, "you
know, some guys, they just can't get it up!"


It made Jordan laugh!


"Yeah, right." Then Chris pries, "How about Ricky? Do you think he needs a
big one of these?"


Still giddy, Jordan says, "why don't you just ask me if I have a big dick?"


 A trick to closing the door with his foot, Chris kicks it. Closing with a
bang, Chris says, "Go ahead. Show me!"


Not about to allow another person to step all over him, Jordan says, "I
might need a pair of lips for stimulation... you know, to get an idea of my
full potential?"


"Hmm, should I give Ricky a call?"


"He's on duty. He can't leave."


To save the day, there was a rap at the door.


"Customer," Chris says.


However, when he opens the door, Chris is surprised, Jordan saying, "looks
like more than one!"


His eyes were affixed, not by the one standing directly in front, but
behind the door-knocker.


"We saw your sign in the window."


For all intentional purposes, Chris' `Help Wanted' sign meant hiring one,
but how could he possibly turn two `handsome' lads, "you're looking for
jobs; summer? Fall?"


It wasn't too tough to hide, the muscle lad behind, speaking up, "we're
headed to BU after the summer."


"Yeah," the first lad agrees, "and need to earn a little spending money."


"You guys got names?" Chris starts the oral interview.


Storming ahead of his bud, with more assertive intent, his hand was out,
"I'm Rick Rodgers and this here is my bud, Patrick Donovan. We'd sure like
for you to hire us?"


All Jordan could do was smile. Apparently, the last part had been tacked
on, with all Rick could behold, gazing into the room, his eyes partaking of
the interesting view.


Patrick says of it, condemning his friend's hasty attitude, "Rick, you
idiot," then to Chris, "you have to pardon Rick, like sometimes he forgets
his manners."


However, whether it would embarrass Chris, he didn't actually think it
would, Jordan picks up one of the manmade cock and balls, asking, "do you
happen to know what this is for, Rick?"


Chris turns, taking the polyurethane cock, "really, Jordan?"


He set it down. Grabbing Jordan by the arm, "the rest of the interview is
outside."


However, Rick just had to get his dibs in, "I could demonstrate how that's
used, if you want me to?"


Since Rick was looking at Jordan, he figured it was asked of him, "I'm not
the boss here."


"Damn shame," Rick replies.


Chris, who had begun to walk Patrick around the store, calls over, "don't
you have `work', Jordan?"


There was that name again, Rick infatuated with the tag placed on the hot
man!


"I did, but I would assume, it almost noon, the crew will be breaking for
lunch."


Jordan had no doubt, as to why Chris was trying to get rid of him. Instead,
like a bad boy, he stuck around!


He loved it, when 18-year old Rick was trying his best to `pick him up,'
"you ever go camping, Jordan?"


"Nope," Jordan quips. "You?"


"Nah, but if I ever found the right guy, wouldn't mind trying."


Jordan knew why Rick said that, Chris explaining to Patrick, how two
separate sleeping bags can be zippered into one!


"Hey," Jordan says incognito, "just to let you know, I have a boyfriend!"


"So?" Rick has all the answers, "they make tents to accommodate three!"


He was about to say he wasn't into robbing the cradle, but certainly, Rick
wasn't as lean as his buddy and Jordan knew shouldn't show encouragement,
but those bulky pecs, filling up that muscle shirt was too much not to,
"you workout?"


Smart, Rick could figure out Jordan already knowing the answer to his own
question, "I could show you some stuff, if you've got the time. Of course,"
he didn't want to throw a wrench in the works, "your partner's welcome to
join us, that is if he's interested too?"


Walking around the store, Rick wasn't half as interested in what his job
requirements would be, much as finding out about Jordan. In all, he learned
Jordan quite educated, that he's been to Boston and the outlying areas,
including the cape, is working during the summer to achieve an
administration degree and currently works out at the Cleg Ranch, on the
construction crew. Of course, Rick includes in his line of firing off
questions, "they hiring out at the ranch?"


"I thought you were interested in working at the Trading Post?"


"Tell you the truth," Rick, the gabby one of the two shows off his
conversational skills, "I wouldn't mind being the crash test dummy for all
that stuff in the back room, but I bet there's tons of hot construction
dudes where you work, eh?"


"Oh yeah," Jordan jokes, "the woods are crawling with'em!"


Breaking up their little chat, which Jordan finds quite entertaining, Chris
says, "well, your friend has a job. What about yourself?"


"Much as I wouldn't mind working for you, `sir'," Rick seemed to know `the
lingo,' I think I'll try my luck seeking a job out at the Cleg Ranch."


Patrick says, "whatever suits you bro."


Apparently, Patrick and Chris weren't talking all about lures, rather what
could lure Patrick to the back room!


"That is, if they're hiring," Rick adds.


"Right," Jordan replies.


Then Rick divulges, "it's not like we really strapped for a cash flow, eh
bro?"


Truthfully, they weren't paupers. Patrick's father was the only dentist
within tens of miles. Rick's parents were divorced. He lived with his mom,
who didn't need to work. His father worked in Texas, for a wealthy cattle
baron. With college money, they were set, but with grounded parents, they
needed to learn to pull their own weight.


"Right, but you know what it means if we get into trouble?"


"Us, get into trouble?" Rick replies.


However, Jordan, having been a mentor for a dozen boarding school guys,
knew why Patrick probably said it. He learned for himself, the hard way,
from his pappy, a man's got to answer for himself, whether he choses the
high road to heaven, or the lower road to hell!


Speaking of the devil, in walks Rusty, "hey, Jordan!"


Having not seen his good friend, buddy and all that stuff since yesterday,
Rusty walks over, giving Jordan a hug.


"Hey," Jordan says, returning it, but wonders, "it's only been since
yesterday." Over Rusty's shoulder he's distracted.


Though, so is Rick, walking over to Michael, "nice pecs."


Michael towering over Rick by about 3 inches, they both found a common
trait, "you too!"


They punch knuckles.


`Oh man,' Rick thought and felt, this guy with big pecs, banging both fists
on his built chest, "you and him," he nods towards Rusty, talking with
Jordan, "friends?"


"Friends, maybe more."


"Oh," Rick backs down, "that's cool."


Jordan, tracking Michael's pecs and Rick, could only muse, `poor Rick. One
more strike and he's out!'


Finding Rick an okay guy, except a little immature, Jordan put a buzz in
Rusty's ear, whom reciprocates, "I hear you're looking for a job in
construction, Rick. What's your experience?"


Looking at Rusty, Rick smiles, saying, "I used to have this huge, 8,000
piece Lego set. Does that count?"


They laughed, Jordan saying in Rusty's ear once more, "he's not short on
muscle. "Could hoist a bucket of nails up to the second floor, no doubt?"


Rusty's business with Jordan was of a personal nature, asking him to be his
`personal spy', which when leaving the Trading Post, told him to keep a
particular eye on Rick!


Jordan, everything he touched in the store, Rick was right on his tail,
"you want it?"


Tenth time in the asking, Jordan knew to reply, "no!"


The first 9 items, Rick had offered to pay for.


"If you're so keen on buying everything for me, why are you looking for a
job?"


Rick summed it up in one word, "`rents'. They can't seem to wait until I
get some fancy degree in business, to get out there and find a real job in
the world."


"Business, is it? What kind of business?"


Genuinely interested in young people, Jordan's mind was on not only Rick's
fine bod, but also what made him tick.


However, in the past five minutes, Rick has been gravitating towards the
back room, "interested, by chance, in anything in that room?"


Chris, he was busy with showing Patrick everything about the
store. Surprised before, he neglected to lock the room which was always
kept locked, unless the store was closed.


Having turned the knob, walking in, Jordan questions Rick, "I don't think
we're supposed to be in here without store personnel?"


Picking up that poly-cock, balls attached, Rick says, "bet you would love
to try this out on some guy, eh?"


Taking it from Rick's hand, setting it back down on the table, Jordan says,
"maybe, but certainly not `your' ass!"


Then the questions rattled off, faster than Jordan could think; top?
Bottom? Ever used any of these toys? Etc.


To everyone, whether Jordan had or had not, he answered in the
negative. But then, it was his turn to return fire, "how about yourself?"


Rick's history began to unfold, "some, but not with Patrick. With Patrick
we were strictly vanilla. You know, no kinks or twists?"


Curious, Jordan comes out with, "Patrick your first fuck?"


He smiles back at Jordan, "dude, you think that's any of your business?"


"Probably not." However, whether any of his business, or not, Jordan holds
up a large buttplug, "ever have one of these up your ass?"



Picking up a set of clamps, attached to a chain, Rick evades the question,
"hey, want to pin these on my nips?"


Patrick and Rick must've not have been too conscientious about getting
jobs, dressed in tees. Jordan has to laugh, Rick lifting his tee, holding
one of the clamps to his nip!


He couldn't say it wasn't inviting, Rick's bulky pecs on display and the
meaty nips, "not really. Not into the `kinky' lifestyle."


Being disagreeable, Rick confronts him, "but you were holding it in your
hand and...you were in this room in the first place, you must have an
interest?"


"Oh really? You have all the answers, do you? For your information, much
like you lured me from the camping department, over to this room, Chris did
the same thing. What do I look like?"


Smiling, the 18-year old replies, "I'd sure find it a pleasure giving you a
blowjob?"


All Jordan could do is roll his eyes, saying, "come on, let's get my stuff
and get out of here."


However, before they left, Chris establishing Jordan a line of credit, but
not writing anything down.


Jordan, kind of fond of Rick, regardless of their interests, decides they
should both trade in their baseball caps for the cowboy style!


%


Going back to the Open Door, Rusty was amazed how dedicated the men, who
chose to venture into town for lunch, looked up to the man in charge.


Michael picks up one of the desserts deposited on their table, with ranch
hands coming and going, "apple for the teacher?"


"Whatsamatter, Michael, you never bribed your teacher?"


Taking a bite out of the red orb, Michael replies, "nope. I always did my
work. Dotted every `i' and crossed every 't'."


"And never kissed the boys and made them cry?" Rusty giggles.


"Maybe one or two," Michael says, smiling like there was a story behind all
that smooching!


Then, looking up, seeing a dude enter, Rusty says, "do we know him?"


Michael shrugged both shoulders, "I wish we did!"


Mr. Tall, ginger, dark brown hair, bearded and handsome as hell, was headed
towards their table, but veered off towards the deli counter.


"There goes our `incoming!'"


"Yeah," Rusty agrees, "so many men, so little time."


"Oh?" Michael says, lisping, "what am I then, chopped pastrami?"


"It's supposed to be liver, Michael!"


"I know, but I get sick just thinking about it!"


"Don't blame ya," the two clinked knuckles.


"Hello."


Michael's heart raced, his eyes about popping out of their sockets!


Rusty, he showed more control, "hi there."


"They told me at the counter I could find `Rusty Cleg', here?"


Knowing, if a dude were looking for Rusty, it had something to do with the
ranch, most likely a job.


With more than sugar plums dancing in his head, Michael right out says,
"you're hired!"


"Michael?!" Rusty says in a blaming tone.


Amending his statement, Michael says, "as soon as we find out about
you. Where are you from?"


Rusty cuts in, "first, if we could have your name?"


Michael says, "that was my next question."


"I guess I can handle 2 questions at once. The name's Connor McGonigal and
I'm from Traverse City, Michigan. Next?"


Rusty was not immune to what could be obtained next, but not wanting
Michael to get the wrong impression, about how to go about interviewing a
candidate, "what type of a job were you looking for?"


Wanting to redeem himself, Michael asks, "what are your qualifications?" he
looks to Rusty, who doesn't say anything.


"My specialty is horticulture, but if you don't have a position which suits
that qualification, I can do almost anything!"


Michael just stare, being good, and quiet. For certain he had some
specialities on his mind, could fall under the `anything' category.


Connor rattles off a few degrees, that he had worked all over the world,
collecting specimens, growing plants on a plantation, in a greenhouse, in a
lab, discoveries of what's indigenous to particular parts of the world and
ending with having written articles and having his own blog.


"How come you're not some professor in a university?"


"I tried that route." He only chose to tell a certain few of his woes,
Connor sensing something in Rusty, "but unfortunately I did something
totally against the code of teaching, I let myself fall in love, with a
student."


Stoopid, Michael saying it, but at least they found out, "was it a girl or
a boy?"


It was all Rusty could do, from lifting his foot, bringing a heel down and
crushing toes!


"Please excuse Michael. Y'see, he tends to be the type who doesn't know
when to mind his own business," Rusty apologizes for his cute boyfriend.


Making a pistol out of his hand, Michael points it towards his own temple,
"yeah, I tend to be a little looney upstairs!"


Connor couldn't help, but smile at Michael's antics. For certain he was not
only cute, but very well built. Then, remembering how he acted and what he
said would be the judge of whether he found employment, "I know there's
laws which prohibit against discrimination against gays, but what matters
to me, if you're accepting, I'd like to apply. If you're not, I'll be
courteous and go my way."


"Accepting?" Michael lets out a little giggle and not minding his own
business again, shares, "Bro, if you only knew!"


Connor smiles, "oh, not really up on it, you know, the clues as to...never
mind!"


Whether, he or Michael or Connor was gay or not, Rusty surely was not up on
all the doings on his father's slate, "Problem is, I'm not sure where you
could be placed in the work force around the ranch."


"What about Kira?" Michael responds to the call for action. "That is, if
you don't mind working around a woman?"


Smiling, Connor shares, "some of my best friends are, women?"


Rusty considers, "I suppose it would be good if Kira and the rest had
someone working with them, who actually knew what they were doing!"


Just then, Monte happens by, but his eyes were more on Connor, as he asks,
"I wonder if I can borrow the truck, Rusty? Um," he swallows, so taken in
by the beautiful bearded man, "Kira says she needs some hoses and other
stuff."


Rusty could very well notice the attraction, "Monte, this is our new
garden-person," for lack of an official title, "Connor McGonigal."


Michael throws his 2-cents in, "my mistake, there's already a `man' working
with the women gardeners."


Standing, Connor puts his hand out, "good to meet you, Monte."


"About the truck?"


Confused about one thing, Rusty questions, "tell me, how did you get here,
Monte?"


Shrugging both shoulders, he says, "hitched!"


"What about Kira's truck?" Michael asks.


"Yeah?" Rusty agrees.


"Kira says, only she drives her truck," Monte replies, shrugging both
shoulders again, as if to ask, `what's up with that?'


Pulling keys out of his pocket, Rusty, who frankly did not know what to do
with the new hiree, "here, and take Connor with you. He's an expert at
hoses!"


Michael thought it, but kept it to himself, thinking how good the rugged,
bearded, bear-of-a-man could be with a full hose!


"Oh, one other thing," Connor says, "would you happen to have a place where
I can sleep?"


Taking responsibility into his own hands, Monte says, "no problem, if you
don't mind my snoring?"


"What snoring?" Rusty asks.


"I better get going," Monte snatched the truck keys off the table, rather
than hang around and explain things.


Watching the two leave, Michael had it on his mind, "how would you know if
Monte snores, or not?"


Rather than a long, drawn out explanation, Rusty says, getting out of his
chair, "intuition!"


Another idea he got in his head, "you know, those two make a nice match."


Luc yells, "24?"


"That's us," Rusty says.


Instead of eating there, they decided take out, which Luc did up for them
in a jiffy.

Walking out of the Open Door, Rusty stares straight ahead.


Talking a mile a minute, Michael suddenly finds he's talking to himself!


Having seen where Rusty was off to, Michael hurries across the road. He
`sees his ghost', rather probably should have, when he's almost run over by
a truck. Looking through the passenger side window, instead a grumpy look,
he catches a smile, the cowboy tilting his hat.


It's then Michael recognizes Deputy Jack, apparently out of uniform, on his
day off. Walking over to the window being lowered, he says, "I should pay
more attention to where I'm rushing off to in such a hurry."


Normally, in uniform, the deputy would give a person a ticket for
jaywalking, not which the country roads were labeled with signs like a
city. Instead, "you? Nah, more like I'm in the wrong. If you were alert
enough, you would have most probably clock me at doing 1 or 2 miles over
the speeding limit," and with a smile, "you would be doing your duty,
making a citizen's arrest?"


According to Michael, that was the flirt of all flirts, something he's
never heard, which unable to think of what to say, leaves it simple, "oh
really?"


"If you're busy right now, we could put the law on hold?"


It made sense to him, the deputy, in plain clothes, wanting more than to be
slapped with a ticket, but Michael also wondered, "how do you even know I'm
attracted to you?"


"Because," Deputy Jack shifts gears, "it's my job to know who's gay and
who's not! Be more careful," he leaves Michael with words of wisdom,
"wouldn't want you to get run down before you serve justice on me!"


As Rusty had already seen, a shirtless dude, holding up a bicycle tire for
observation, Michael, without the truck to obstruct his view, looks upon
almost the same situation.


"Hey," Michael says, which meant he wanted to be introduced to the hot,
bearded dude.


"Michael, this is Josh. Him and me went to school together."


"Hi," Josh says, holding his bike tire with two hands. "Got a flat."


Rusty wanted to share some more middle school info with Michael, but for
certain not everything which brought the two friends together.


Josh, he was careful too, not wanting to break the two up, Rusty already
telling Josh, Michael his boyfriend, whether it had officially come to that
or not.


"No patch?" Michael asks, not which he knew how to patch one, even if his
life depended on it!


"Normally I would, but had more than one flat this week," Josh reports.


Even though late morning, the temps were that of early afternoon, which
would be a valid reason for Josh's skin painted with sweat.


"I'd offer you a ride home in my truck," Rusty says, "but one of the ranch
hands needed to borrow it."


"That's okay," Josh says, starting to gather up his stuff, "I'll hike over
to the gas station. Lee will probably have the fixin's to repair it."


There was a lot to gather, the bike, detached wheel, Josh's shirt, his
knapsack and helmet.


"Don't mind helping you," Michael offers, picking up the bike helmet.


"Right," Rusty agrees, "and maybe by the time we get there, Monte will be
back with the truck."


The three trek along the side of the road, Josh leading the way, his bike
over one shoulder.


Michael was a little disappointed, Josh putting his shirt back on.


Rusty, last in line, carried the wheel having the flat tire. He smiled,
thinking what Michael might have on his mind. Rusty couldn't blame his
boyfriend, because if he were second in line, chances are, he would have
stared at Josh's ass. In thinking it, his mind flashbacks to middle school,
8th grade, when he found Josh under the bleachers, cock out, jerking off,
having watched senior high football players doing calisthenics.


He's startled out of his reverie, when Michael asks, "by the way, how did
you and Rusty meet, Josh?"


Fortunately, they were a hundred feet from the gas station, Josh saying,
"it's a long story. I'll tell it to you when I have more time."


Taking off, Michael turns around, saying point blank to Rusty, "hmm, it's
like he was afraid to tell me!"


"And that means?" Rusty confronts.


"Nuttin'!" Michael replies, again, shrugging both muscled shoulders.


Though, Michael promptly forgot about it, entering one of the garage ports,
happening upon Josh, talking with the mechanic. There was no contrast,
other than different color hair, fairer skin than Michael, he and the
mechanic both with built pecs and swimmers build!


%


Meanwhile, it didn't take long before Monte and Connor got to know each
other. So well, that after they picked up the hose, Monte made a detour,
saying he thought he passed by a picnic area the other day, while scouting
the countryside.


"Well, this here's the place!"


In a snide way, Connor says, "are we getting out?"


Figuring it an invitation, Monte lifts the door handle, "we really
shouldn't!"


It didn't take too much time, too many words, before Connor lay stripped,
on the picnic table, legs spread, Monte, shirtless, pants divided, leaning
over and moistening up the Irishman's 8-inch stick!


In a matter of minutes, Connor had Monte hugging a tree, while pumping his
cock in and out.


Sure, Monte complained of what the bark was doing to the front of his bod,
but what happened behind made it feel like a rough massage.


Not having a condom handy, Connor still pressed against Monte, the motions
of fucking, but his load dribbled down the grains of the tree bark.


The two left quite a big puddle at the base of the tree!


%


Copyright 2016 T. Chase McPhee


"JoLLy RaNCHeRs" and developing segments of this story, may not be sold,
nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author, or
you will be forced to your knees.