Date: Mon, 2 Jan 2017 15:08:27 +0000
From: TCHASE MCPHEE <survivalgame@outlook.com>
Subject: ?JoLLy RaNCHeRs? 26

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"JoLLy RaNCHeRs" 26

WriTten by T. Chase McPhee


^   0   ^


%


"Hey," Michael taps on Rusty's smooth chest with his finger.


Without opening eyes, Rusty replies, "go away!"


"For now, or forever?"


Not receiving the response intended, a sweet morning kiss, Michael rolls
over onto his back. Without the support of a big, at least full-sized bed,
feet are planted on the floor. Doing a sit-up, soft shaft and balls fall
between thighs. He smiles, Michael thinking of rolling out of bed in the
morning, usually having to `fluff up' his orbs, a little pasty from the
night before.


As it had gone last night, Michael feels mighty good, rubbing hands down
his pecs, abs, yawning at the same time. Recollecting, there's a reason his
palms revisit the pasty place!


"Oo-ooh," he sighs, looking at scabs scraping off wiry pubes, but nothing
as significant as digging a finger into his deep navel.


"Playing with yourself again, `Michael'?"


Like a young boy doing something terribly wrong, Michael flicks his finger
out of his bellyhole, "who? Me?"


Rather than to explain, pressing a finger into the navel, till he could
feel `hard abs', Michael bends over and slowly works himself back into bed,
"sleep good?"


No dope, Rusty knew Michael was avoiding the fact, turning himself on with
finger into his deep depression, "good as it gets, I suppose?"


His other hand was tweaking himself up, moving from one nip, to the other,
and back!


The smile crossing his lover's lips, told Michael more than sleep the
underlying factor for dozing through till morn, "I didn't happen to have a
part in that, did I?"


Climbing back into bed, the first time, Michael had thought his 235 pound
tower of muscle could crush Rusty like a hammer to limestone, but found the
case.


"This did," Rusty replies, smiling.


"If you're trying to make me hard, it's working!"


Putting 6 hours between, after shooting a full load and dawns early light,
the touch of hand, Michael's soft shaft would not be keeping its soft shape
for very long.


"Good," Rusty smiles an evil grin.


"Don't stop!" Michael sort of whines.


Giggling, to match the devil's grin, Rusty says, "today's the big day?"


"Oh right." For the life of him, Michael could not remember what was `big'
about the `big day,' only `big' about the night before, "what was that
about again?"


He would have flopped his bod right down, except Rusty giving the hint,
time to rise and shine, "dad...he's supposed to be filling me in...I mean,
`us', on our official jobs around here?"


For the past couple of weeks, the newness of what was happening around the
ranch seemed like putting Rusty into a dream state. Fact is, since
returning from the Bostonian boarding school, the midwest put an
overwhelming spin on his mind. At first Rusty attributed it to jet lag, but
then found it much more than that.


It had felt strange, without Tim there, but soon enough Rusty began making
new friends. One thing, he couldn't believe the love-of-his-life had been a
major factor in fitting back in. Of course, there was `Hoot', but what
Rusty meant, is the void in loving someone who could love him back. Other
than his on-again-off-again friend, Evan, he truly didn't recollect any one
person, worth returning to the old hometown again.


Of all the reasons, the new one entering his life, "I'm really glad we met,
Michael?"


Michael was too. Better than words could ever say, standing there and
drawing Rusty into his lips, he engulfs with open arms, tasting, feeling...


"But...we better not leave the chief waiting!"


Walking past Michael, Rusty butts his shoulders, like a chip on his
shoulder.


Michael could only smile. He loved the different ways Rusty liked to
flirt. Really, Michael could've returned the gesture, but was sure it would
bowl his lover over onto his ass.


Turning to follow, he has a discrepancy of time, "it's a whole 2 hour
before the breakfast bell rings."


"I know," Rusty turns and smiles, "but the early worm gets the hot shower!"


"Oh...that!"


Yeah, it's been great living on a ranch. Not only where hard work is
concerned, there is the `eye candy' of sweaty men toiling away to make a
living, but freedom to be one's self. Just one of the pluses of being
there.


With Rusty ahead of him, Michael draws all that has happened
together. `Yep,' he thinks, `life is good!'


Grabbing towels, they wrap them around their waists.


The first week, before `girls and kids' became a part of the ranch
landscape, they would think nothing of running from bed to the outdoor
shower, cock and balls swinging to and fro!


Early on they had four walls and a roof over their heads. When that went
kaput, a tent did have its romantic sides. And, it did seem kind of erotic,
that jog through the cool morning woods to the shower.


Michael had thought it would put a damper on things, having to clothe his
lower-nakedness. Didn't thought, following his lover's butt, the towel
outlining curves and lines. Yet, it's what's up front which interested him
more, "uh, speaking of that `early worm', uh..."


Stepping into the `new' showers, designated with girl or boy logos, Rusty
has caught on, "soon as you make the worm grow up!"


Both were feeling it, mentally, walking into the shower, forgetting to
loosen the loincloths. Michael gets even, for Rusty pushing him out of
bed. Bowling his big pecs against his lover's meek chest, Michael gives
hint.


Then, noticing Rusty not hugging him, "did I do something?"


"Were you trying to impale me on this?" Rusty replies, revealing the
`turn-on' for the shower.


Laughing it off, Michael puts 1 and 1 together, "oh man, that would be
`some' buttplug!"


"Hmm," Rusty makes it sound like jealousy, "unsatisfied with what you got
last night?"


Both feeling `something' for the past few minutes, Michael takes it
further, groping Rusty's slack spike. Whole hand taking the soft `worm' in
hand, "hardly!"


Then the kissin' started up again, Michael still holding the soft
warrior. Soon though, it got hard in his hand, with little need for
stroking.


Instead of backing into the shower knob, Michael backs Rusty up to the side
of the stall. Spring-loaded, the door automatically closes. Lazy, it
doesn't close fully, leaving a little gap.


"Oh, is someone in here?"


Like a dominating top, Michael breaks off the action, "what do you think,
Josh?"


Rusty could only think of this as `one of those moments', Michael standing
there, hand frozen on his cock. Most likely he was just as mesmerized by
Josh standing there, door obviously pushed open a little more than the lazy
hinge holding it.


"Uh," Josh sneakily says, "the other shower...it doesn't work. I guess the
plumbing is not installed?"


>From first glances, probably Michael was the first set of eyes, taking on
Josh's 7c, poking out of the ginger-red bush, balls barely visible.


Turning towards him, the intruder set his eyes on the reason Michael's arm
was extended, "I guess I'm catching you at a bad moment, Mikey?" However,
it wasn't Michael he was apologizing to, "Sorry there, Rusty."


It didn't take a rocket scientist, someone neither of them could equate to,
but Rusty surely knew the formula, Josh standing there, not making a move.


Truthfully, Rusty did not mind it a bit, gazing upon Josh's fuzzy front,
right on down to holding his own, "doesn't bother me." Putting it off, like
passing the blame, "what about you, Michael?"


Shifting his gaze, Michael says, "what about me?" It's then Michael
realizes, standing there and holding `Rusty' in his hand, drops the cock,
"oh! That!"


Then, like he has to explain why he was in the shower stall, latched onto
his lover's tool, " as you can see, Josh, we were just about ready to
shower?"


All Rusty could do is shake his head, "Michael, Michael, Michael."


"What?"


Allowing the door to shut a quarter of an inch, Josh says, "well I guess
I'll just wait my turn, even though it's still kind of," he gazes around,
"chilly in here."


Purposely, Josh closes off the idleness of the two pair of eyes in front of
him, clutching cock and balls in both hands, shoulders shrugging off the
morning air.


"Sorry `bout that," Michael replies, like offering up an apology.


About to be whacked out of his gourd, Michael hears his lover say, "you're
so cruel Michael!"


"For what?"


"Leaving poor Josh out there in the cold room, while we're enjoying the hot
steam?"


It wasn't exactly the furthest thing from Michael's mind. Instead of
debating it, Michael shoos Josh inside, "get yourself in here, before you
catch you're death of cold!"


Or, as Josh was thinking it, before he got any `softer', "thanks. I owe ya
one!"


"Well," Rusty turns his back for a second, "in order to call this a
`shower', we better make it shower!"


Yeah, it was corny, but with 3 dudes in a shower stall, after Rusty had
given the go ahead, he was lost for what to exactly do.


Josh, soon as Rusty turned the jet on, it doused his red, curly locks,
"damn!"


"Sorry," Rusty says, "I didn't make it point in your direction, Josh!"


Josh didn't mind at all.  It bought him time, deciding maybe he wanted to
give Michal a blowjob, while Rusty fucked him. Persnickety at times, maybe
instead of a blowjob, he would want to fuck Michael. `Geez,' he thought,
`how insensitive,' preying on his best friend's boyfriend like that!


"Oh no!"


Michael's call of desperation threw Josh off, "whatsamatter?"


"No soap!"


Feeling a bit devilish, Rusty says, "I'll get it."


He couldn't help it, not with both of Rusty's shoulders acting like
barreling through the alley, "did he just do what I think he did?"


"What do you think he did, Josh?"


They both knew, but no one but Michael, having just received the brush of
shoulders, meant to be a flirt!


It wasn't any secret to Rusty, a grin still on his face, lingering, as he
unwrapped a fresh cake of soap, purposely brushing Josh's fuzzy chest, both
hands flapping against the boys' barrels, making them dance!


When he returns, Rusty wears a wry smile, "soap anyone?"


"Sure," Michael's the first at getting his dibs, "I'd love some!"


Taking the cake of soap, Michael rubs it between both palms.


It kind of turned Josh on, seeing Michael treat the soap as some erotic ass
toy, "Wanna save some for us?"


Suds dripping from Michael's hands, he's figured he's got enough, "catch!"


Of course, it's slippy-er than Josh's wet hands can latch onto, hitting the
floor with a thud.


"Oh, this should be interesting," Rusty says, hogging the shower, water
falling down his chest, stomach and beyond.


Funny thing is, much to Michael's surprise, thinking himself the least
dominant of the three, goes to pick it up, only to be side-swiped by Josh,
"allow me."


Both with the same opinion, Rusty says to Michael, "really?"


"Yeah, that's what I thought," Michael opinions, thinking of himself as low
man on the chart.


Of course, if he were tallying up a list of fuckers, even though Michael
more committed to naming his lover as top man, visually, it seemed like
Josh could do a bit of damage as a bronco-buster.


"Who's first?" Josh calls the shots.


By now, the soap has become quite diluted, in Michael's hands.


Josh, having bullied him into bending for the soap, "what's that gonna do,
Mikey?"


Michael did feel a little jealous, Josh reaching for Rusty's
shoulder. Though, is quite surprised, Josh reaching behind, grabbing more
than a shoulder to wash!


"Josh!"


Innocently, Josh asks, "What's up Mikey?"


Josh slides a hand round Rusty's bicep, cleansing the inside of his
pit. Palm resting against the left pec.


Certainly, it was an erotic moment, though Michael wasn't sure, even though
it seemed his lover instigated the action, "just checking," he stare into
Rusty's eyes.


Though, there were no eyes to focus on, Rusty's closed!


Guessing it was copacetic, Michael gets in on the action.


Michael closes in on Rusty, vying for a kiss over the shoulder, Josh
feeling 7-inches line up with his ass crevice, "oh yeah, Mikey...keep it
coming!"


>From puckered lips, Michael breaks for a breather, "I guess he is for
real."


Trying to set boundaries in a blossoming relationship, can sometimes be
`complicated', as proven by this moment. When the brain kicks out and
testosterone provokes the mind into a different way of thinking, it tends
to break all the rules.


Even Rusty got into the full swing of things, grabbing up both his and
Josh's tubes. Of course, he could not fit 2 sets of balls in one hand, the
other hand busy, so opted for juggling Josh's orbs.


Packing for the sandwich, Josh takes it in stride, chest to chest, stomach
to stomach, a hand keeping him primed as he reaches behind the back.


Knowing he should use protection, Michael scoots in and out of the shower
stall. Of course, he didn't have a condom handy, but a maintenance man's
latex glove works on the spur of the moment. However, upon returning he
discovers 2 things; latex no substitute for shaft protection!


Secondly, gazing upon the two, it wasn't about protecting his hard
cock. Rubbing bods together, 2 pair of hands between Josh and his lover,
maybe stroking was enough.


Then Michael felt guilt, as to why he even wanted to fuck Josh over!
Condescending thoughts set in. Suddenly he's not into the sexual drive of
moments ago. Then, it was too late for him, but not for Rusty.


"Oh yeah...oh yeah...oh fuckin'-yeah!"


Rusty leading the way, apparently, being the more vocal of the duet, grabs
Josh by the shoulders and fucks him like he's turned around, which stuns
Michael, "really?"


Since they wasted water profusely, Michael couldn't tell, except by vocal
interpretation, Rusty and Josh shooting their loads, it all going down the
drain. Truthfully, all was not a total loss, Michael getting on the
bandwagon eventually.


"Damn, that was so-o-o-o-o hot," Josh remarks, sinking down till his butt
slaps the wet tile, leaning his back against the walls. He was still softly
stroking himself.


Rusty, out of breath and out of semen, slaps a hand against the shower head
so it careens over himself. Wiping hands up and down his bod, he refreshes
his flaccid shaft, cleansing the gooey substance.


Michael, the feeling still lingers, so he tries like hell to get his hard
shaft shooting off.


Noticing, `poor Michael', Josh feels `so' sorry for him, "here, let me get
that," he leans forward, getting on hands and knees.


Literally, crawling over to Michael like a dog on all fours, Josh's mouth
opens at just the right moment.


He did have an instant moment of guilt, much like the first time this
morning, looking over to Rusty.


Just standing there, feeling the softness of water plane over his bod,
Rusty says, "go for it, `Mikey'!"


It was kind of comical and could have been outright funny, a grin on
Rusty's lips, knowing Michael was about to receive the pleasure he
deserved.


Michael had remarked, `okay, if you say so,' classic in the making for
their relationship status, a whimsy phrase spoken often, over and over.


Rusty's status, like at a movie theater without the popcorn and frills,
sits his butt down. With legs spread out wide, the only position he could
achieve, since Josh was kneeling, was to bring one leg in between his
friend's thighs.


About ready to suck in Michael's cock, Josh says, "mm-m, now I could get
into some of that too!"


Rusty damn well knew what that was about, the tip of his toes having grazed
Josh's low-hangers. Between last night and this morning, Rusty couldn't
remember how many times he's emptied his vessel, only recalling the feeling
of shooting off. It's probably, much as he wanted to, or willed, he
couldn't get it up. Next thought to come to mind, if he could get pleasured
from stroking his flaccid shaft, then why not pass the pleasure on!


Michael stood there, typical position for a cock-sucker on his knees,
wailing with good-feeling, hand at the back of Josh's head.


Suddenly, after Josh chokes a little, he breaks off and in sarcastic
repose, "you don't need to force it, Mikey...don't worry, I know how to get
your rocks off!"


"I guess he told you," Rusty remarks.


It's only then, Michael realizes his lover had hauled ass off the tiled
floor. Being Rusty stood to the rear of Josh, Michael questions, "uh,
you're not gonna.."


Left vague, it was no mystery to Rusty to categorize, "first of all,
Michael, does it look like my cock is in fucking condition?"


Not immune to Josh, picking up the pace, like he said, knew how to work a
shaft tip to the back of the throat, without barf mode kicking in, says to
his lover, "not really."


The other thing, "don't worry. There's only one hole I'm interested in
plugging!"


It made Michael a happy man, but in another way, "oh-geez..." he realizes
Josh is getting him close to the tsunami wave!


Realizing it himself, Rusty preceded his actions by words, "I hope this
helps?"


Michael didn't need to know the wherefores, or the whys, only feel his
lover's fingers tantalize the perky spots on his pecs, "oh-gee-e-e-ez!"


Whether Josh set the rules or not, the vibrations his lips were picking up,
man-seed traveling up the chute of Michael's hard shaft and the first taste
of `salt', now he didn't care if all that semen flooded the corridor of his
mouth. That is, not until Michael releases the hand to the back of his
head.


Spectator to the sport of one dude sucking off another, Rusty's fingers
tore from Michael's nips, as he backed off. Gazing down, expecting to see a
semi-soft shaft, glistening from the overhead lights, Rusty was amazed to
say the least, "now there's something you don't see everyday!"


Pursing his lips, tightly, Josh at least still caged in the tip of
Michael's cock, which also made the 7c seem longer than reality.


Knowing himself, Michael could clue Josh in, "okay, you can let go now,
Josh?"


"Sorry `bout that," Josh opens his mouth to speak, wiping the back of his
right hand over lips, "wanted to make sure I didn't leave anything to drip
out."


Rusty says, "um, like we're in a shower stall, like it's not like you're
going to soil the carpet, Josh?"


Holding his cock, other than Josh's saliva, there wasn't any other slimy
material, Michael rendering, "well, you sure are a hot cocksucker, Josh!"


"Yeah," Josh grins through a toothy smile.


"Uh, Josh?" Rusty draws his attention.


"What?" Josh looks in his direction.


Regardless, Michael says, with a tinge of laughter, "you got spunk caught
in your beard?"


Reiterating, based on Rusty's idea, "good thing we're in the shower!"


Both Michael and Rusty were sure there were words to follow, only they were
saved by the bell.


"Is that the breakfast bell? I'm like, famished!"


"Really, Josh?" Rusty says.


What both hadn't realized, Michael sneaking behind Rusty's back, to access
the shower, "excuse me. Seems like I've worked up quite an appetite!"


Josh, upright, having sunk down to his knees, inquires, "if you're needing
any help with that, Rusty?"


"Uh, no. I'm good, Josh," Rusty becomes intimate once more in the shower.


It's what Michael thought, only to be the pawn for stealing the cake of
soap.


Boys will be boys, however, much as Rusty play with soap and scrubbing, it
did not suffice. Playfulness in a shower was different than between a pair
of sheets.


Attesting to this, Michael reacts to a dull chiming sound, "sh-h-h-hush! I
think I heard something!"


Playfulness with parts of the anatomy, did make quite an outburst in the
shower, but Michael, left holding Josh's shaft and commanding silence, kind
of broke the back of their hullabaloo.


"I don't hear anything," Josh claims.


What bottom wouldn't, with a hand on their swollen shaft and a naturally
lubed asscrack, with a tube rubbing up and down the valley?


"To be continued?" Michael says, allowing Josh's cock to slip out of hand.


Rusty says of it, "that's Michael...always thinking of his stomach before
anything else!"


"That's not me," Josh claims. "Nope. Me, I honor commitment to the very
end."


Biting a lip, Rusty stands there in an awkward position. Certainly, chest
to Josh's back, his erect tube had nowhere else to go, aligned with a hairy
crack. Though, the dilemma, much as he would like to back up, straighten
his shaft out and plow right in, in the back of his mind, like looking
through a rearview mirror, there was Michael's image. Not about to make
like their relationship thus far was road kill, Rusty backs away.


How could Josh not feel the tip of Rusty's cock slip down, the head graze
along the valley of his ass cheeks, "that's okay. I get it."


Knowing he wasn't going to get fucked silly, Josh makes an about face.


"Sorry Josh. For a minute there...I let `things' get the best of me."


"Not a problem," Josh replies, though disappointed, because he was aching
to have his ass canal clogged.


Turning towards the shower, Rusty washes off, "I guess I better face
reality. If I want my relationship with Michael to last, I gotta put the
breaks on my teenage attitude, buck up and become a man."


At 22, Josh hadn't hit the peak years. The fact is, cycling the US, he's
gotten around, knows the stakes, when two men collide, "hey, got news for
ya, sex is ageless, you know?"


Realizing his former action, prick almost puncturing Josh's hole, then
realizing where real commitment lay, Rusty states, "I know, but that
doesn't mean I'm not going to be held accountable for my actions, looking
ahead to 10, 20 or 30 years from now."


There was a difference between asking and giving definition, ending with
conviction and not question.


"I get it," Josh stands out of the squirting shower, planing water off his
bod, "and it's okay. I know we can still be friends. Right?"


Peace offering, Josh held his hand out.


"Of course," Rusty shrugs off the idea, just because they don't have sex,
it's not the end of things between them.


Taking Josh's hand, Rusty found out how devious Josh could be, reeling him
in like a fish on a hook, planting a quick kiss on the lips and then
bolting for the door.


Rusty had the last laugh though, Josh forgetting to grab his towel!


%


By the time Michael took his sweet time, walking back to their shared
abode, drying every last drop of water off, plus standing there with a tee
shirt in hand, thinking over what had just happened, it gave Rusty leeway
to dry, towel-wrap his waist, walk back through the woods and find his
lover.


"You didn't need to run away, Michael?"


There were times when Michael could laugh his ass off. Very rarely was he
ever serious about anything. This was one of those days.


Turning to face Rusty, Michael still had his shirt in two hands, ready to
dive in in, head first, "I didn't run away...I mean...I was being
considerate."


"Of what?" Rusty knew.


"You, standing behind Josh. I know you're... `fond' of him?"


"You're right," Rusty steals Michael's comfort tool, stealing the stretched
shirt out of his hands, "I am fond of Josh, but I'm much more than that
about you, Michael?"


"Oh," Michael suddenly feels like a puppy dog who's done something wrong.


"Besides, if I'm not mistaken, the way you had your hand wrapped around
Josh's cock and jackin' him, how do I know you weren't going to turn around
and bend over?"


Michael gets sweet on Rusty, "because I'm more than fond of you?"


"That's what I thought," Rusty acts cool, shoving Michael's balled up shirt
mid-pecs.


"Um, we can still be friends with Josh, right?"


Rusty never thought of stopping, "of course. Other than you, who else is
going to give me a ragin' hard on!"


It only took one hand to hold Michael's shirt. Ever since anxious thoughts
died out, Rusty's been jackin' his own shaft.


"So, you did want to..."


Michael's deliverance falls on more than Rusty's sensitive ears, "get your
ass over the bed. I wanna fuck the hell out of you, Michael!"


Both ignored the late bell, bringing everyone to breakfast.


For Michael, it got quite intense, having to hold onto the reins, sides of
the mattress.


Buildup was not only in sexual desire, but a hidden vengeance, Rusty
pounding Michael's bubble butt!


%


Meanwhile, `most' reported to breakfast. Some had the same ideas of Rusty
and Michael. Others just wanted to sleep in, after a night of
`restlessness.'


In the late hours of the afternoon, yesterday, Marco had introduced Coury
to the `official' head of the counseling program, formerly known as
`offenders.'


After Marco left Owen Barklee with Coury, the two talked more than
`shop'. Having a degree in criminal justice, it was a minor matter for
Coury's mind. Instead, he focused on the rugged workout bod.


Soon, they both reached an `understanding,' understanding each were
gay. Then, desires overwhelmed the need to checkout employment backgrounds,
but rather boundaries surrounding man-to-man talk. More than words could
say, soon they had each stripped-down-shirtless.


Both try getting the upper hand, but each wanted the upper hand...rather,
since both Owen and Coury longed to fuck each other.


Ready to give in, call it a stalemate, a third wrench was thrown into the
works, Coury's army buddy, Gianni entering the room.


Tough-acting, when he could see a plan coming together, Gianni would
abdicate his `top' throne and fall to his knees. Getting right down to
business, Gianni threw off his clothes and sank down. Loving it rough, the
former soldier volunteered placing hands behind his back, acting like a
captured trophy, saying, "I'm all yours, boys. Use me all you want!"


Knowing this kinky side of Gianni, Coury informed Owen, with words of
encouragement, "C'mon, lets work this bastard over good!"


It's not the first time the 29-year old counselor got down and dirty,
pulling Gianni by the hair on top of his head, proceeding to pistol-whip
stache, lips, beard with his hard 8-inches.


It came down to where Coury stood behind Owen...


Owen stood on his guard, telling Coury his lips could go `there', but not
his cock. He warned with retribution.


Then it became obvious, 2-tops to 1-bottom, the `2' were not getting
along. Next best thing, they `shared,' Gianni becoming their go between.


Coury did have to say it, about it being sweet, trying to stuff his shaft
in, next to Owen's thick piece of meat, stuffing Gianni's mouth.


When Gianna couldn't open his mouth wide enough, Coury gave hint to Owen to
`make mincemeat out of his nips!'


Owen remarked how he liked Coury's plan, especially when it became easier
for the two tops to slip in deeper.


It wasn't the ideal `fuck,' Owen clearing his desk off, with the swipe of
his arm. He had to climb on top of it, with Gianni faced down, on top of
the surface. Owen would have been satisfied doubling Gianni over the edge
and penetrating to the hilt, but when the 39-year old Italian lay down,
Coury grabbed him under the pits, sledded his bod over the desktop, having
a hard shaft ready to impale Gianni's tonsils.


Begging for release, Owen's eyes were on the goal and without thinking
about it, hopped up on the desk. Immediately, standing there for seconds,
peering down at the hairy ass, he knew he had to get `in there' soon, or
else his `strings of pearls' would be shooting all over Gianni's back!


Using both Gianni's ass cheeks as a pressure point, it separated the
mounds, so Owen could eye up his target, while dropping down.


Bullseye!


Gianni was hurting, Owen feeling the pressure of pain, hard shaft slipping
right in, getting impaled until Owen had no more stem to implant!


Emerging out of his this, this morning, Gianni complained of a terrible
sore throat and his ass, he didn't think he could sit straight upright at
the breakfast table!


%


Bart did spot Coury, sitting there at the table known as the `offenders
counselors table'. Yesterday, he would have sat there, had it been only
himself and Coury. Things change, the scenery. Bart had known, form Coury
himself, the offenders program, even though in its infancy stage, had
caught on. Not only were there counselors hired specifically for the ranch,
but those who held jobs would be inducted into the program.


Though, Bart was not alone. Yesterday, while Coury was making new friends,
he found some of his own. In particular, he met Mat, Zack, Caspar, Dante
and Freddie. Just names in passing, it was Mat he zeroed in on, thinking
they had made a connection.


Even though they were first to sit at their table, Bart and Mat welcomed
the others to sit and eat.


Other than Mat, the others pay close attention, when Bart's friend, Brett,
comes over to them, exclaiming, "how's them sticky buns, Bart?"


It was the first time in a long while Bart captured such glee in his
gut-punching buddy's eyes, "real good. Why?"


Patting his left pec, Brett almost couldn't get the words out fast enough,
"they're mine...I made `em!"


"They look so professional," Bart says, looking at the mound of baked bun,
crisscrossed with what looked like freshly spouted goo!


"Thanks," Brett wore a toothy smile. "Antonio's showing us dudes how to
make a lot of stuff!"


It seemed to dwarf what Bart had done so far, fishing, swimming, hiking,
doing a little construction work, but was really glad for his friend. One
thing he was ecstatic about though, was meeting a guy his own age, "by the
way, this is Mat," Bart as proud as Brett and his sticky-buns!


It accidentally tilted off Brett's lips, "Hot! I mean...that's cool."


Mat smiles. It's the way guys were. Often he knew they were stalking him,
with the muscled bod, hairy chest, treasure trail leading to something more
than `ample.' Proud of his features, Mat loved going shirtless. With
substantial weight down below, he purposely didn't wear undies under his
gym shorts. Not only did he love the feel of his 8c and hefty balls bobbing
up and down, but prey on dudes who loved to catch a glance!


Meant to send a message, even though they were good friends, Bart wasn't
about to share, "meet anyone yet, Brett?"


`One' didn't suit Brett, but he didn't have some hot orgies with fellow
offender, Casper and the best Cowboy Chow maker, Hwan. "I might have
something cooking."


Bart laughed at his pun on words, being Brett worked the kitchen,
"cool. I'm glad you found someone."


"Yeah, thanks," Brett replies, but didn't elaborate on how he and Casper
were getting it on with double-teaming Hwan, dragging Freddie into it all,
when he was available.


Rusty was quick to notice how Michael seemed to easily get over things,
when spotting Josh show up, gravitating towards Jeremy.


"I don't think we need to worry about either of us hooking up, literally,
with Josh?"


Michael, he was kind of sad, wanting it as bad as tasting, Josh's juicy
shaft, nestled in a bed of ginger-red hair. Regardless, it was Rusty he was
in love with and mentally had committed himself to his one-and-only, "yeah,
I see what you mean. He and Jeremy, they make a nice couple."


Squeezing Michael's arm, Rusty says, "Yeah. Almost as nice as us, huh?"


His old self, Michael jokes, with pompous attitude, "well, not `that'
nice!"


"Hey, Mikey."


"Dirk," Michael jumps out of his seat, "how's it going?"


With Rusty occupying his time, Michael has hardly seen much of the
`Seattle' gang.


"Good. Say, the guys and me," Dirk says with shyness, "are getting together
for some mud-wrestling. You in?"


"Um," Michael thinks about it, looking to his lover for the `ok.'


Rusty gives the go ahead, with attachments, "only if I can get in on it!"


Nothing Dirk liked more, than to get his hairy front all dirtied up and
then rubbing it on another dude, "no complaints here!"


As Michael had summed up, his Seattle buddies must've drawn straws, Dirk
getting the shortest, elected to come over with the invitation. Soon as the
long distance message traveled back to their table, they were over,
surrounding, talking the event up.


One of the reasons Michael loved contact sports, they all knew about his
insatiable desire, having his tweakers pinched, pulled and made sore and
swollen. Whenever hands were on his nips, it was an instantaneous
electrifying jolt to his nuts and bolt!


Rusty had to caution one of the older dudes, leaning over Michael, arms
resting on his shoulders, fingertips and thumbs working Michael right
through his shirt, "um, I think there's enough goo on the sticky buns,
Duke?"


About his hands over Michael's pecs, Duke withdraws them like foiling a
surprise, "how did they get there?" he holds up both hands.


Just like the bell to assemble, the same ringing dismisses everyone.


Whereas there was hustle and bustle, filling the dining hall, there's a
lack thereof, to empty, Rusty among the stragglers.


"What's up for us today, secretary?" he poses to Michael.


"Well, if you're up for it, Marco wanted us to meet up with the architect,
to go over plans for our house?"


Rusty smiles, at `our house,' "lead the way!"


It was only a few footsteps, Michael taking Rusty's hand, leading him over
to where Monte sat. However, with him was someone they had never seen
before.


Right off, Monte stands to greet them, "I take it Marco got back to you
yesterday?"


He did, but right now, Michael's interest lay in the `other' man.


"He did," Rusty acknowledged, but also noted Michael's stares.


How could Rusty possibly distract his lover from sightseeing, taking in the
view of a hot bear!


"Oh guys, this is Denis Vega. He has his own construction company. He's
working with me on building your house."


Monte picked up on it right away, noticing the pair flock towards Denis.


"How's it going Denis?" Michael grabbed his hand first.


"Good to meet you," Denis gave Michael an extra `squeeze'!


"I hate to rush everyone, but Denis and I have a barn and farmyard to
attend to today?"


By the time they got to the site where the main house would be raised, not
on the site of the former farmhouse, but hillside, overlooking much of the
ranch, Michael knew everything there was to know about Denis.


Rusty, his ears were sharpened, taking in every detail, while still
consuming Monte's ideas. He couldn't deny it kind of `moving', Denis
unfastening a few buttons of his shirt, to show Michael the leather,
stud-studded harness he had underneath. Both were witness to the leather
pressed against a bed of fur. Though, not much of the harness could be
seen, Denis unable to reveal the full view!


When they got there, Coury's new beau, Samuel, was there, making sure the
environment was treated with sensitivity.


Coury was off, doing his thing.


Owen was there, introducing new counselors, Amir Hadad, army buddy, Kent
Billingsley, and James Ferenzi, better known as just `Jimi', a 25-year old
college grad, out on his first assignment. Jimi didn't look any older than
some of the offenders, but carried himself professionally. Kent liked it
when a younger guy acted in a dominant manner, stood up for himself. Maybe
there could be a connection made!


After the short meet and greet, Owen led them off to meet up with the
offenders, those incarcerated at the ranch, some newbies.


%


Meanwhile, in order to build up the ranch resort, without using all of his
bank account, Marco latched on to a new idea of building funds.


He already had appropriated `Post & Beam' lumber, bringing the lumberyard
to the ranch, piece and piece. Legally, slighting by under-the-table route,
he had established the business, the ranch resort benefitting by its
profit.


Dr. Krempl was realizing his dream, setting up an office and hanging out a
shingle, planning his future. There with him was Shane Dean, his job, set
forth by Marco, controller of the project.


Not quite yet a member of the bar, Marco appointed Aldo Iacono to oversee
the project. It also helped, the 3 `getting along' well!


%


About ready to walk up the hill, to the site of his and Michael's new home,
Kira happens by.


"Here," she forces a dog into Rusty's arms, "we can't take care of Wolfgang
today. He's all yours."


Not which Rusty did not mind holding the ball of fur in his arms, but
watching the gang from the farmyard all assembled, adults and kids, "and
where are y'all off to?"


"Some of us have jobs to do!"


It then dawned on Rusty, his accomplishments thus far? Here, he was
watching ranch workers headed out to purchase sheep, llamas, hens and
chickens and the only `animal' in his farmyard was... `Michael?'


"What's up?" he reaches over Rusty's shoulder, pets Wolfgang, "hey, Wolfy!"


Center of their attention, Wolfgang doesn't mind being cuddled in two arms,
a third adding scratching behind the ear.


"I'm confused."


"About what?"


"Maybe confused is not the word. More like, I feel lost."


"Really?" Michael continues adding content to Wolfgang being around,
stroking behind the ear, "after you spent almost your whole life around the
ranch. I thought you knew your way around?"


Not which he didn't mind holding the dog, Rusty places him in Michael's
care, "here. You're turn."


Showing he `knew the way', Rusty traipses off.


"Wanna hold off there," Michael, seeing Rusty a few feet ahead, is indeed
afraid of getting lost.


Catching up, Rusty suddenly stops. Perhaps he finally realizes, at this
moment in time, there's a person right there to confide in, "it's just
that... before any more of the summer gets wasted away, I'd really like to
know what I'm doing around here?"


"Yeah, I know the feeling."


"You do?"


"Of course. Who wouldn't, being told one day, you're this person, in charge
of this, only to be shuffled off onto another task?" Michael presents it.


"Something like that."


"I see it like this," Michael arms himself with the `great philosopher'
attitude, "your dad, Marco, he doesn't want us to get all tied up in
anything major, because he knows we're going to be headed off to college in
the fall?"


"Oh yeah," Rusty suddenly sees the light at the end of his tunnel of
frustration, "I forgot about that."


"Unless we get involved in something we can wrap up in a hurry, what's the
point in getting ourselves immersed in a big project?"


Curving a lip, Rusty sees Michael's point, "one thing bothers me though?"


"What's that?"


With Wolfgang in the chasm, Rusty grabs at the base of Michael's elbows,
closing the gap, "what about us?"


"What about us?"


"When you say, starting college, does that mean you're going off to..."


"No," Michael jumps the gun.


Squirmy and whining yelps, Michael says, "I think he has to `go'!"


Rusty was sort of satisfied with Michael's answer, but it didn't set
totally satisfactorily with him.


"Uh-oh!"


"What?"


"Wolfy...he's got a collar, but there's no leash?"


"Oh. So, what do we do?"


"We can't let him run free. Give me your belt."


Picking his shirt up, Rusty goes for it, only to find, "I'm not wearing
one."


Michael was smiling anyway.


"What?" Rusty questions the obvious stare downwards.


"Nuttin'," Michael replies, even though he had just checked out Rusty's
deep innie and the gingery trail above and below.


"We'll use yours," Rusty assumes he is wearing one.


Raising the pup up, Michael brings Wolfgang onto the shelf of his pecs.


"I hope one of us is wearing one."


For Michael, being searched, it was kind of erotic, having his shirt toyed
with in that way, "hmm," is all he can say.


Staring into Michael's eyes, as he unbuckles the belt, Rusty doesn't put
full blame on his lover, "it does feel kind of `erotic'!"


"No, dah?" Michael questions, feeling the back of a hand slip digits in,
mingle with the crop of his pubic hair.


Short-lived, his belt is loosened and drawn from the loops of his pants.


"Least you could have done, is pull it out slowly?"


Rusty says, "and chance you getting a hard on in public?"


It's like Wolfgang could tell it was time, squirming around until he
wriggled right out of Michael's arms.


Looping the belt around the collar, the pair were all ready for a
dog-walking.


"You're so smart, Michael."


Michael replies with modesty, "Yeah, I know."


Accepting what Michael has offered, about his position in life as it is,
Rusty says, "so, which way does the bedroom face?"


"Whichever way we want it to."


However, thinks would become more specific, when they happen upon surveyors
and the architect hired for the planning, "Monte?"


Turning around to face Rusty, Monte walks towards them with open arms,
"long time, no see!"


Michael had wished it was `him' getting a bear hug from the cub!


Leave it to Rusty not to leave him out, "you remember Michael?"


Staring at the bulging chest, buttons tight and ready to bust, Monte says,
"of course...how could I forget..."


How could anyone forget, caressing a man with such a worked-out chest,
robust, corralled in between welcoming arms.


"Really, Monte?" Rusty says with complaint, when the hug lingers a little
too long.


"Oh," he breaks off, "I guess I got a little too carried away. Then, to
distract himself from those bulbous pecs, "oh, is this your dog?"


Being that right after he acquired Wolfgang, the kids stole him away, it
would be tough for anyone to guess he was the owner, "yeah. His name is
Wolfgang."


"Well," it became the perfect alibi for Monte, walking over to the drawing
board, "then I suppose we'll need to tack on an extra room!"


Handing the `leash' over to Michael, Rusty says, "let's see what you've got
so far."


Expecting to see something like the ranch house which folded in upon
itself, Rusty was amazed, "wow. I didn't think it would look anything like
this!"


"Cool," Michael says, seeing the mansion-like size, pictured on the
mountainside, the home sitting there on odd angles, varied levels.


"Where's the bedroom?" Rusty asks.


Monte replies, "where would you like it?"


Though, his eyes shoot to Michael, asking him, more than Rusty!


Michael replies, "don't look at me!"


"Well, you're going to be living in it too, Michael?"


"Right," Michael giggles at Rusty's reasoning, "I forgot."


Was it forgetfulness, or was Michael just `distracted' for the moment?


"We want it to overlook the valley below," Rusty answers the question.


"Not a problem. We'll just switch out the kitchen, but still leave the
dinette facing east, so you can catch the morning sun."


Much wanting to stay there an follow Monte's direction, it's a shame,
Wolfgang wanting to go off into the woods to poo!


"I'll be right back," Michael follows the tug on the belt.


While away, Monte, who has known Rusty since setting foot on ranch
property, "you've got a nice catch there, you know?"


"You think so?" Rusty replies, though he `knows-so!'


It was a vehicle Monte used, to bestow upon his friend, that he's met a man
of his own, "why, if I hadn't met someone already..."


Picking up on it, Rusty changed his opinion, of Monte being jealous, "you
have? Who are we talking about?"


"See for yourself," Monte smiles, looking over Rusty's shoulder.


Over his shoulder, the 6-foot lad carries a boxlike carrier, announcing
himself, "coffee-to-go!"


Fortunately for Michael, Wolfgang had finished up his business, just in
time to meet Monte's boyfriend, "hey guys, this is Diego."


Michael and Rusty exchange glances, unaware Monte was `involved', watching
the two greet each other with a hug.


"When did all this happen, Monte?"


Breaking off the hold he had on Diego, Monte replies, "oh, just this
morning."


Diego offers, taking covered cups of coffee from the square shoulder bag,
"yeah. I'm new to the kitchen."


"Welcome!" Michael says with energy.


"This is Michael," Rusty introduces, "and our dog, Wolfgang."


"Cool, I love dogs," Diego squats down, hand the shoulder bag over to
Monte, "how you doing, little fella?"


Taking time off, Diego had switched out of his white kitchen garment, into
a tank top. When he squatted down, to give Wolfgang some attention, it rode
up his back some. Having changed into gym shorts, the lycra material caught
on the roundness of his glutes.


Surely, it's the first thing Michael had noticed, wanting to wet down that
hairy crack!


Knowing this, not which he was angry or anything, Rusty snaps his finger in
Michael's face.


"Oh! Where am I?" Michael jokes.


Fortunately, Monte had started talking up house plans, which was even a
greater distraction.


Diego, most likely picking up on Michael's flirting eyes, looks up, saying,
"nice dog you've got here!"


Standing, it sealed off Michael's view, "thanks!"


Or maybe Michael was thinking, `thanks for the peek!'


>From the onset, Diego had gotten an opinion of Michael. When Rusty talks
plans with Monte, "so, what can you get into?"


Sure Diego meant something of a sexual nature, Michael deflects, "I like
working out, volleyball, swimming...how about yourself?"


Cutting right to the groovy stuff, Diego says, "I'd like to tie you to the
bed and run why fingers over those hot pecs. Bet you'd like that, huh? Get
you hard real quick...get the lube flowing."


It's not that Michael has never had his pecs worked over, pinched and
pulled, while his frat brothers had him in a full nelson, "um. I dunno."


He didn't know, because back then, in college, Michael wasn't attached. Not
much will power, he really had to be conscious of being in a relationship.


"You and your boyfriend, you into roleplaying?"


Certainly, Michael would love to be a police officer, in Diego's precinct,
though left details sketchy, "I dunno...would have to speak to my other
half about it!"


Not taking `no' for an answer, Diego says, "bet you got a tight ass, huh?"


Knowing his place, Michael replies, "well, it's not up for grabs at the
moment."


Using Wolfgang as an excuse, which is good Michael held the leash, "uh, I
think he has to go."


Though, unlike before, Michael did the leading off into the woods.


Not giving up on Michael's pointy pecs, Diego says, "to be continued," then
headed off to collect the coffee gear bag.


Though he had his back turned towards Michael, Rusty coolly warns, "by the
way, Diego, if you have any designs on my boyfriend's pecs..."


Glancing towards Monte, his boyfriend responds to Rusty's accusations, "me?
Michael's pecs? Ridiculous! Why would I ever think something such as that,
when I have a perfectly hot set of nips to play with, with Monte here?"


News to Rusty, that he likened to that type ball-churning type of activity,
"really, Monte?"


Then it became a boyfriend type of spat, Monte saying, "you were supposed
to keep your mouth shut about that thing, Diego!"


Rusty backed off and took the trail Michael headed, which was off to the
side of a beaten path. In no time unfriendly voices became distant.


"Michael? Wolfgang?" he alternated, calling attention to his presence in
the woods.


He was a little out of sync with things, finding himself not in dense
forest, but it panning out till it opened upon a clearing. Rusty thought to
himself, `I don't remember this being here'. What he did find, the clearing
caused by human hands, trees cut down, stumps dug out.


Right in the middle of it all, was Michael...and Wolfgang. He had to laugh,
Michael showing their dog how to lay down, roll over and play `dead'!


"Now you try."


"Wolfgang or me?" Rusty questions.


"Wolfgang," Michael replies and with a joke up his sleeve, "with you, I'd
have you lie down and play `fuck me!'"


Stupid as it sounded, Rusty could never `not' laugh, with the way Michael
giggled at his own pun!


Forgetting about that stuff for right now, Rusty says, "I don't think
Wolfgang is taking the hint, but it sure was fun watching his teacher!"


"Yeah, it was kind of goofy of you, Mikey!"


Both were surprised by not only Josh, but Jeremy with him, on mountain
bikes.


"Cool bikes. Where'd you get them?" Michael asks.


Their dog was working up a growl, which Rusty tames him, "It's okay,
Wolfgang," he pets him, "friend!"


Walking over to him, bike still between his legs, Jeremy extends a hand to
pat him, "hm, I think he understands you."


"Of course," Michael replies, "Rusty knows `dog' fluently."


Soon Josh is standing next to his boyfriend, which Michael relished the
sight, lycra shorts keeping their cock and balls pulled up into a nice
package!


"So, where'd you get the money for bikes and gear?"


Y'see, Michael had to ask questions, drawing fire away his stares, or else
he could stand accused...


"Chris, down at the trading post. To anyone who works at the ranch, he's
extending a line of credit," 19-year old Jeremy replies.


Looking at the horn of the seats, Michael guesses it might be kind of harsh
on `the hardware', "would they happen to have a bike with a softer seat?"


"I can see you know nothing about bikes," Josh says, "because you don't
know, when we ride, we let our junk hang to one side."


Comparing to Jeremy, Michael could see where the seat would be no problem
for Josh, but assuming Jeremy wasn't even `hard', his tube sure was
prominent, "oh...okay."


Jeremy does get the impression Michael is checking them out and not for the
right reasons, so sets him straight, "if you're interested in a bike and
some gear, I can go with you to the Trading Post and make sure you get the
right fit, Mikey?"


Rusty steps in, vocally, "I think, when and if the time comes, I can handle
that, Jeremy!"


"Right," Jeremy backs off, tackling the handlebars with his `sawed off'
gloves, "we better get moving. Got a few mountains to tackle."


After he and Josh leave, Michael just had to say it, "amazing how a little
lycra can bring out the best in a dude!"


This time, it wasn't in the form of scolding, but the two comparing notes,
Jeremy's hardware lined up against Josh.


"I wonder if they even have a jersey to fit you, Michael?" Rusty threaded
the belt around Wolfgang's collar and began walking off.


Following, Michael says, "if not, I'll have to go shirtless!"


"What're you trying to do, cause an accident, Michael?!"


Reason Rusty didn't define things, even straight guys were amazed by
Michael's pecs. He had to laugh now, Michael coercing some straight dude
into feeling up the rounded edges, same time poking thumbs into the nubs!


Back at the main ranch, even though the weekend was upon them, no less 15
construction workers toiled at building the new dining hall and kitchen.


Coming over, Antonio remarks, "well, how do you like it?"


Michael replies, "looks like a Thanksgiving turkey with all the meat eaten
off of it."


"Nah," Rusty disagrees, "more like fish scales."


However, when they started lifted the boney panel off the ground, Antonio
says, "looks like they need a little muscle-help."


It wasn't Antonio making an effort, patting Michael on the shoulder, like
he was saying, `get in there.'


"Muscle?" Michael fell for the bait, walks over and grabs hold of one of
the 2x4's.


Two of his Seattle buddies welcomed him, walking away, because they knew he
had it covered.


"Oh no you don't," Michael grabs one of his buddies by the back of belt.


While Michael gloried in working with his buddies, Rusty gave his
`permission' for his boyfriend to join in, `get his hands' dirty.


Meanwhile, he took a stroll down to the barn, to make sure Wolfgang and
Hoot were properly introduced.


Not only was Evan there, but a guy he never saw. Approaching, gloating
about his new trainer, "Rusty, you gotta meet Billy. He like, knows all
there is to know about horses."


When serious, Billy had the type of demeanor, he might be out to kill a
person. However, smiling, greeting Rusty, he was friendly as first class
flying, "hey, how's it going. Evan has told me all about you."


On account of it being `horse-washing' day, Evan and Billy were dressed
down to the waist.


Familiar with Evan, shirtless, Rusty more checked out Billy. Bold pecs, not
like Michael's, nonetheless he worked out, were covered with a thin
sheathing of hair. Perky pecs gave way to more of the same fibers, flanked
out over Billy's stomach. A defined trail was embedded, though did not hide
a sixpack. Still, Billy looked to be in stealth condition.


"Has he now?" Rusty more studied Billy, than what he had to say.


"You have a fine horse. Looks like he's been properly taken care of."


Not to his credit, Rusty replies, "you can thank Evan for that. Since
coming home from school, I've hardly spent more than a moment with Hoot."


Knowing the inside scoop, Evan says, "I wonder why?"


Rusty held Wolfgang in his arms, being a puppy, a horse would be too
overwhelming, "well, I just brought Wolfgang over to meet Hoot."


Evan held the reins, while Rusty helped get the two acquainted.


Billy had stepped back inside the barn.


"Looks like you got yourself a nice boyfriend, Evan?"


"Oh, we're not boyfriends. More..." he thinks, "fuck-buddies, with a little
interest on the side."


Knowing about Evan, some of his likes, Rusty asks, "is he into that kinky
shit you like?"


"Uh," Evan smiles, "yeah, I guess you can say that. Although, promise not
to say anything. Billy doesn't want it getting around."


"I can imagine. Guys will be lined up at the barn door!"


It's not which Evan did not mind talking about it, especially the part
where he hung from the rafters by his arms, hole being tortured by Billy's
8c, "we have a good thing going."


"I wish you luck."


"You too," Evan returns.


Then they spent time familiarizing Hoot with Wolfgang. The two animals
seemed to develop a quick friendship. Rusty placed Wolfgang's paw on Hoot's
nose and `petted' him.


First time, Hoot backed off, got a little riled up, but soon learned to be
compatible.


When Billy came back, he wasn't wearing his cowboy hat, which had Evan
saying, "isn't he gorgeous?"


"I imagine he is the spitting image of what you have in mind?"


"Yeah. He can be so sweet, or..."


Evan didn't say, but Rusty could gather, thoughts about how a dominant top
can treat his `sextoy', "I bet!"


Right after Billy comes from the farm, two other hands make their way to
the corral, one carrying a saddle over his shoulder.


"Who are they?"


Billy just watched as one saddled Hoot, the other coaching.


Evan fills Rusty in, "a rare breed. Gerard Savage and his step brother,
Adam."


"They look normal to me," Rusty gazes upon the dark-haired `coach',
coaching the ginger-haired rider.


"They've been around horses about all their lives. Even with college
degrees, they came back to horse-training."


"Okay," Rusty holds out, "sounds normal to me."


By Rusty's comments, Evan knew he was waiting for the punchline, "special
brothers...both gay, they're very dedicated to each other."


Very simply, he could have put it, as Rusty sees things, "they're a
couple!"


"Uh... yeah...that doesn't bother you?"


"If you hadn't told me, Evan, I wouldn't have known the difference. No big
deal to me," Rusty smiles.


"Some people would have a problem with it."


"Not me," Rusty replies. "Besides, the less that people know...well, it's
their business, right?"


"Right." Another thing on Evan's mind, the element of trust, "And Rusty?"


Rusty stares into the dreamy, 27-year old cowboy's eyes, "What?"


"You don't need to worry about me, blabbing it all over the ranch. These
lips are sealed," Evan play-acts, zipping his lips shut.


It makes Rusty smile, private joke, `yeah, right...until the next fat shaft
comes along!' However, when principle is applied, a guy doesn't joke about
it, "what? You think I don't trust you?"


"Thanks," Evan replies.


If Wolfgang still wasn't perched in the folds of Rusty's arms, Evan's
patting hand would have touched `shirt', instead of a fur coat!


For awhile Rusty hangs around, meets and greets Gerard and Adam.


He thought the two were readying Hoot, to take for a trot.


"Here, let me hold this tough little guy for you," Adam, the gingery half
of the Savage brothers, as Rusty has memorized, approaches him, carefully
removing the pup.


Standing there, cowboy hat atop his dark brown mane, reins in his hand,
Gerard pops the question, "ready to take your mustang for a spin?"


Well, Rusty never thought of Hoot as being a `mustang', since the horse was
bought and paid for by - well, Rusty still regarded his step-in-father as a
dad. He was sure Gerard meant `the car!'


Reins being offered to him, how could Rusty turn down such a charming
request, "sure."


He did look towards Adam, holding Wolfgang, teasing the pup, as if he
played with a young kid.


It gave initiative to ask, "you two ever think of adoption?"


Rusty had to laugh, Gerard saying, "we thought of getting a dog, but not
until we've put some roots down."


It might have put a damper on the adoption issue, but opened up another
topic, one which would need to be put on hold. Right now, Gerard was more
interested in Rusty getting on the horse, both hands clutching the boot
which was not in the stirrup.


`Cool,' Rusty thought, getting a helping hand. What he never expected is
`thrust-power,' launching him up, over the saddle and off to the other side
of Hoot!


"Don't worry. I've got you covered."


Surely, it was providence, Adam standing on the other side of Hoot. With
Wolfgang cradled in caring arms, about stomach level, the 25-year old
cowpoke was able to catch Rusty, on the chest!


Bouncing right back up, into the saddle, Rusty terms it, "wow, lucky catch
Adam!"


Both were nicely built lads, Adam and Gerard the same physical frame. Yet,
he figures, their daily routine of ranch work, lifting heavy saddles,
chores and the pull of the rein, it was enough to keep them in good
shape. Certainly, Rusty's shoulder banging against Adam's chest and the
`block' to keep him from falling off Hoot, there was some natural muscle
fiber there.


Though, it wasn't only Adam who `saved' Rusty's life, Gerard, as a natural
instinct, reaching out, grabbing onto `anything', to keep the rider from
eating dirt, "uh, sorry I um..."


Smiling, Gerard did feel like he was reaching for more, when his intentions
were to grab Rusty by the belt buckle. Instead, his hand clutched Rusty the
front of the pants. Not exactly the crotch, but close enough, had Gerard
apologizing, "uh, sorry about...you know...I hope I didn't damage
anything?"


Knowing where Gerard was going with this, Adam sticks his head under the
nape of Hoot's neck, "you wanna take your mind out of the gutter for once,
Gerard?"


Not which he felt it, Rusty more keen on not falling off a horse, tries
getting half of the bromance out of hot water, "hey, I just realized
something?"


>From Gerard's perspective, could it be Rusty got a reaction?


Not thinking that way, though he could have if this was his and Gerard's
bed, Adam sums it up, "Gerard, he wants to get on with his ride."


"Uh, no...I mean `yes'...I mean, wow, you guys don't know how lucky you are
to have around. Man, I could've really taken a big spill off of Hoot. You
guys are heroes!"


A sixth sense of something of the equivalent, Adam had an idea Rusty was
covering for Gerard, "yeah, we knew that. Have a good ride."


Thinking, whimsically, as Hoot tore out of there, with a hand to his butt,
Rusty wondered if boss-man-Adam was going to give Gerard the same
treatment!


It was an enlightening experience, Rusty riding the ranch grounds, just
like he used to in days past. Much of what he's remembered, has changed.


Even though a manmade, log bridge crossed the brook, he still jumped it. He
needed to steer Hoot to the left, or else run smack into a crude
lean-to. Coming around to the other side of a grouping of trees, he was
amazed to find a colony of the same freestanding structures.


A little further on, the `ole homestead' didn't resemble being `old.' The
outside was covered in new siding. The old windows had been popped out, new
ones installed. He could even see where the hole in the roof, had been
plugged with a skylight. A sign outside read, `agricultural personnel
only.' There was a lock on the door.


One thing hadn't changed at all, which Rusty could see from the distance,
the river where the fishing was good. It was still how he remembered it,
growing up, except the trees and brush surrounding it, reflected by his own
change in age.


"Hello, there."


He knew the voice before turning around, "Michael, is that you?"


Sitting on top of a horse of his own, Michael says, "yup. Surprised?"


"Yes. I thought Hoot was the only horse around here!"


Expertly, Michael throws his left leg over to the right side, "not
anymore. When I left, they were still unloading some trucks."


Something mystified Rusty, "when and where did you learn to ride a horse,
Michael?"


Smiling, Michael says, "I'm still learning."


"Still learning?" Rusty wonders, with the cowboy dismount, in which Michael
wound up with both feet on the ground, instead of nose rubbing in the dust.


"Y'see, my system is, I picture what I've got to do, then...just do it!"


"Sounds logical. Let me try it."


It worked, throwing one leg over Hoot's head, "it works!"


Of course, it's not the first endeavor, Rusty trying out a few cowboy
tricks, with Hoot. Helped when two were in sync with the same idea.


Being about the most beautiful place on the ranch, with the afternoon sun
providing an ambiance about the river environment, the two tied their
horses off and sat down on a boulder.


"I've got something else on my mind," Rusty smiles, cuddling up with
Michael's arm.


"Oh?" Michael smiles, looking it seemed, across the lake to the trees on
the other side.


True, scenery did provide part of how Michael felt in his soul. So was the
feeling of touch. Things were beginning to get very `touching.'


Nothing could speak louder than words, or rather express what Rusty was
feeling right now. A perfect moment brought on the two leaning in towards
each other. Hands exploring this time it was not about Michael's broad
pecs, nor one of the ways to get him spiked-up. More provoked by five
seconds ago, Rusty started to put the moves on Michael, fueled by a picture
in his mind.


Soon, neither wouldn't need anything physical to keep the scenario going.


%



Copyright 2017 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.