Date: Tue, 28 Mar 2017 22:41:28 +0000
From: TCHASE MCPHEE <survivalgame@outlook.com>
Subject: ?JoLLy RaNCHeRs? 28 [final chapter]

% 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.


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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.


% Jack off material is meant to be kept stashed between the internet
mattress and box spring. If you get caught viewing at the office, better
hope you're tight enough to get out of a sticky situation.


% 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!



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%


"JoLLy RaNCHeRs" 28

WriTten by T. Chase McPhee


^ 0 ^


%


"Oh, wow!"


After hearing the alarm on his pad signal an email, he found the contents
to be quite a surprise.


Trotting around the ranch resort, Rusty and Davey had completed a short
tour.


Standing there, holding the reins of both horses, Davey gets nosy, leaning
his head over Rusty's shoulder.


"What's up, chief?"


What was up, at the moment, made Rusty smile, Davey's chin resting on his
shoulder.


Allowing Davey to linger there, Rusty is quick to think up a plan. Put into
his trust, his father has not only elected Aldo to heap responsibility
onto.


"This is interesting," Rusty leads him on.


Davey takes the bait, "I don't have my glasses. Read it to me."


More importantly, the man hanging on his shoulder, Rusty asks, "you wear
glasses?"


"Only for reading."


Close enough view, Rusty could only think of such a thing, as Davey looking
down his shirt. Playing wise, "says here, Nick East has heard about the
`gay' ranch and..."


"We're gay?" Davey chuckles.


When his eyes first met Davey Larson, Rusty had his opinions. Towering over
him at 6'2", muscled, seriously minded, slowly he felt Davey loosen
up. Happens when you're the boss' son. A dude clams up, thinking what he
says and how he reacts to certain issues, will get back to the head
honcho. Vibes, that's all it is.


"Are we?" Rusty asks, turning his head.


`Damn!'


An inch between lips, Rusty wanted like heck to kiss Davey.


Perhaps he had his own thoughts on the same idea, Davey lifting his
head. If indeed he got the same inclination, doing it with the boss' son
was not the greatest of things to do. Another reason, he knew Michael's
biceps were bigger than his!


"Um," Davey coughs up an `ahem', "the email?"


Breaking out of la-la-land, Rusty says, "oh. Right. The email."


He went on to explain, Nick East bringing his show, `Best Chow in America',
to the ranch, "but in order to so, the producers want Nick checking things
out, to see if there's an...angle here?"


Thinking he could be of some help, Rusty being so damn cute, "uh, yeah,"
Davey shrugs a shoulder, "they can't film the best chow in America, if it
isn't...the best chow!"


Rusty felt it too and it wasn't about chow at all, but a hunch. Being Davey
and Michael were friends, he wouldn't dare stake a claim on his boyfriend's
turf.


Though, Rusty did feel a little `cheated', Michael showing up, putting
Davey into a full-fledged bod-hug!

"Hey there, bud!"


Rusty smiles, feeling Michael's knuckles on his back.


It was comical, Davey accepting the symbol of loving friendship, the
closeness of it all, but then, trying to pry the hulk off, "uh, Mike, do
you think you can shower first?"


Truth be told, Michael had just come from chopping wood, nailing siding
onto the front of a building, doing all kinds of construction. In the heat
of an early summer temps, hot as a July day, "you never complained about my
sweat before!"


They both had a good laugh over it, `sweat' being a bond between the two.


However, Rusty wasn't humored, or rather pretended, "really? No hug for me,
Michael?"


Then, he was amazed, the power Davey had over Michael, a hand to his sweaty
bare-chest, "hold on cowboy," he turns to explain, "trust me, Rusty, you
don't want to get your shirt all soaked with his musky b.o.!"


It made Michael smile, about the time when he first met Davey, in the
middle of an orgy. He could almost pick up on the raunchy smell of sweat,
which at the time was sweetness to his nose and tongue. If given the
opportunity, Michael would do it all over again, tongue-bathe Davey from
neck to navel and beyond!


"And you would know, babe?"


Caught in a place where he wasn't sure he wanted to tread, Michael utters a
simple, "oops!"


For old time's sake, Davey wasn't letting Michael off the hook, "I'm sure
by now, you know your boyfriend has a very talented tongue?"


Michael comes back at him, "I thought you were my friend, Davey?!"


"He `is' your friend, Michael. That's why, speaking of which, would you
mind putting Hoot to bed for me, Davey?"


`Well', Michael thought on it, `at least it was good, his lover and Davey
getting along. Now if I can do the same!' Though, he knows, when they
talked about things which could get the other jealous, anything else
pertaining to making love to a former boyfriend, it was water under the
bridge, material to laugh about and not get angry at a person.


Not which he was trying to break the two lovers apart, Davey saw it for
himself, how loving the couple were.


"Sure. You two run along and have some fun!"


Michael had learned to rely on Davey for small favors. Like, when the orgy
had gotten out of hand. He was drunk himself, when some big ass-toys were
brought into the room. For certain, Michael didn't intend on having his
tight end `ruined'. If it be so, it would be a man's cock and not some
bulky piece of rubber. Michael learned just how much a friend Davey could
be, standing up to others, behaving like a wall between what was and how
things could escalate.


Soon as they were alone, Michael steered conversation that way, "Davey and
me, we've had our moments."


Thinking as it, intimate, Rusty says, "oh really?"


As any man, Rusty was curious.


For Michael, he did want to share, "exciting stuff, orgies can be, but
also, dangerous, when drugs and alcohol come into play. I sure learned my
lesson. If it wasn't for Davey...it's complicated."


"Drugs?"


"Uh, no. Not drugs, but I did have quite a few beer chasers."


More curious than when first mentioned, Rusty senses Michael sensitive
about it, "you can tell me about it when you're ready."


"All I want to say is, the `situation', it did lead Davey and me, into
doing `something.'"


"So, what you did with Davey, was more than making out,"

Rusty spells out, cool, calm, collectively.


"You have a problem with it?"


"Long as Davey didn't try to make a baby with you!"


%


Later that morning, Luke left the ranch with Jordan. Along the way they
notice a familiar vehicle.


>From an already open window, Luke asks, "All ready for you first day on
the job?"


"That I am," a manly voice comes from the opposite window.


"Straight ahead then. Make the first right when you come to it. And John?"


"Yes?"

"Good luck."


Touch of a finger would have rolled John's window up for him. However, very
excited about his first job, putting his new degree to work, he allows the
cool air to escape.


For a 24-year old, it's rather intimidating, working in a new state, new
town, new turf, with people he hasn't met.


Fortunately, for John Stevens, his disagreement hadn't been over coming
out, while in college, but the fact his parents had wished him to come
home. `Gay' was okay with them!


For most of his life, John's father, who is also the attending physician at
a large medical center, in Boston, became more married to his job than his
mother. Accordingly, John couldn't bare to put up with his father, the
domineering attitude. John hated it when his father asked about school,
sports he participated in, the band trip to New York, other activities. In
retrospect, his father didn't have an interest in any of it. When John did
try to elaborate, he received a simple response, `that's nice.'  After a
while he gave up on being disappointment, simply by using the strategy of
not looking for approval or excitement a father could exhibit, at the
success of his son.


It wasn't only John who found the same temperament from his dad. Out of
this grew strong bonds with his siblings, they too sharing likewise
thoughts.


As Cissy, the youngest, Mack, a year younger than John found, they craved
the same attention, yielding to the same attitude from their father. It's
probably why the three siblings set up a `pact', if at all possible,
whenever either of them had an activity, the other two would be there to
cheer the third on.


Well, it was a good intention to say the least. Cissy, she didn't exactly
fit the mold of a buddy-buddy world. Too, around this time, their mother
started to feel the same as they did, coupled with neglect. It wouldn't be
till later in life, the trio of siblings would become aware of how parents
can cheat on each other!



>From the longer than usual bro-hug, John sensed the reason Mack kissed him
on the neck. Fortunately for both, they had been close in friendship. They
already knew they loved each other.


Make, he was just as comical, thinking of himself as `hot', just because
his brother told him so!


Totally different, the siblings' mom was a `real' mother to them. Cinthia,
nicknamed `Cissy' was done so as not to confuse anyone. Her mother's name
was also Cinthia, but people called her `Cindy'.


Mack, there was no rhyme nor reason, where that came from. It was John who
told him, either he was named after a burger or a truck! Mack took on the
truck, saying when he got to be John's age, he was going to just as
muscular!

Whereas his mother was more `father' to his sister, John became `father' to
Mack. Very close, John and Mack would do everything together, rollerblade,
camping and hiking in the Berkshires, go to art museums, opera...yeah, the
two loved the sound of a baritone up on stage. At night, John would work
off a wet-dream, picturing himself partner to one of those barihunks!


Their relationship was not always oneway. Sometimes Mack would take the
initiative to `father' John. Like, a monumental time of both their lives,
while camping. The summer before John's last semester at college, they took
to the Berkshires, camping. An event which marked a milestone in both their
lives.


Funny, they could have stayed at the family lodge, at Park Place Estates,
right on the lake, but chose the local campground. They were out for more
rugged living around a campfire, chance meeting a bear in the woods while
seeking the outhouse, or freezing to death housed in a tent.


Traffic cut into their quality time. After setting up the tent, they
gathered wood, made a fire and cooked dinner. At the lodge, if given enough
notice, they could have been sitting down to a fine fare, prepared by a
chef. John and Mack wouldn't need to do anything, except lift a fork to
their mouths. But no, they liked roughing it, doing what other guys did,
even though they didn't have a father to share those times with. But they
had each other and that was great!


"Nice, isn't it?" Mack says.


John jokes, "oh, so you do like my canned beans ala macaroni?"


"Yeah, it's good, but don't blame me when the tent stinks of `your' farts!"


Wise smile, John says, "at least we're not starving from `your' cooking!"


Truth be told and Mack would admit it, a little off on his kitchen merit
badge. It's the only thing lacking with outdoor life. He blames it on
family wealth, having food prepped for them.


"Just remember, I'm the one who cooks, so you're the one who cleans up!"


"I forgot how to do it!"


Then the two would laugh, joking over how they've had it so easy all these
years, not having to prep or clean up after themselves.


Instead of putting the clean up chore entirely on Mack's back, John lent a
hand. It wouldn't be the first time they had a water fight. Usually John
was a good sport, losing the grip he had on the wash bucket, getting
doused. This led to stripping down to his undershorts.


He never read the signs, Mack joking, "aren't you going all the way, bro?"


"After you," John would always make a comeback.


The night short, the two hit the sack. From the long, grueling drive,
trading off responsibility behind the wheel, they went to their sleeping
bags with heavy eyelids.


Next morning, Mack awoke first, hearing some chirping like a
trumpet. `Ducks!' was his response. Though, trying to roll out of his
sleeping bag, something was holding him there, around the waist!


A bit giddy, he didn't know whether to break the hold John had on him, or
just lay there and play dead. He played dead!


It wasn't unheard of, the two pranking each other, so just to make sure
John wasn't going to realize it, when he yawned, Mack wove his right arm
over John's left arm and clamped it down with his own left arm.


Did it ever occur to Mack that his older brother were gay? More than a few
times. Like John, he never had an interest in girls while in high
school. Never brought girls home to meet `mom and dad.' He didn't go to
senior prom. Never a word about a `girl' in his life, while away at
college.


Perhaps it was meant to be, this camping trip, at this place in time, for
Mack and John to `connect'.


Except, Mack got tired of waiting for John to wake up. It would've been a
fine prank, keeping his bro from lifting his arms and announce the morning
with a big yawn and a stretch. Instead, Mack had to resort to other
methods.


Nineteen years old, he was `legal' enough to make his own decisions, which
was carefully turning over in his sleeping bag, to face John.


"Sweet," he said out loud, a little more than a whisper, finding John
sleeping on top of his sleeping bag.


Not quite a balmy night in the Berkshires, for August, Mack just lay there
for a while and `watched'.


Finally, John does roll over onto his back, his hand planing over Mack's
bod. It comes to rest on John's own stomach.


What's going through John's head, it connects with his crotch, something
unprovoked, but with provocation. Rolling over onto his back, Mack can
clearly see John's chest rise and fall with the inflation and deflation of
his lungs. He bites a lip, wanting to respond.


First, he checks John's face. Yep, eyes closed, breathing normally. Bravely
Mack lifts a hand. First it hovers over John's right shoulder.


He chickens out!


Mack should've gone for it, John turning over onto his left side, faced
away from him.


"Rats," Mack slaps a hand across his own mouth!


He's almost filled with tears, looking upon his brother's beautiful back,
sloping down to curved buttocks. For certain, he has such a willingness to
want to `touch.' It's not that it's his brother. Mack has had a lust to
touch any man. Frustrated, he doesn't want to impose on his own
brother. Certainly, if indeed John wasn't gay, a strong possibility, other
guys he knows, abstaining from a social life to hit the books and make the
grade...


Then he smiles, having eyed John up, from top to ass. He `guesses', when
his brother got out of those soaked briefs last night, putting on a dry
pair, he hadn't pulled them up all the way. In the night they worked
down. Mack figures he can make excuse, playing a prank on his brother,
sticking a finger down that inviting ass crack, a wedgie turning it into
one big, fat joke!


So, Mack goes it for it, out of desperation, lust, not exactly sure of the
`why' of it. With cautionary attitude, he sticks out an index
finger. Touching the small of John's back, Mack gets no response. Second
touch, slightly lower, draws the same mundane result. Third time, he
figures he's `out', withdrawing his finger quickly.


Half-muffled by the laundry sack he used for a pillow, "Might feel nicer if
it were your tongue, bro!"


Mack's mouth popped open, like it was ready to accept a big 10-incher on
the palate of his tongue, "you were awake all this time, John? I can't
believe you!"


If Mack thought of it as a prank, John took it the course, laughing his ass
off as he turned back over, facing his brother.


"And what's this?"


The joke was on John, but how can a dude not tell when he's got a stiff
cock?


"All I can say bro, no one else but you and me to get turned on to!"


Not allowing John to get the last dibs in, Mack jumps on top and starts
wrestling with him, old boyhood stuff never outlived.


They had planned on moving to a new location the next day. A place where
they were not so obvious, it hell had broken loose in the tent at
night. Both would accuse the other of not pounding the tent stakes in, or
why else would it have caved in on them?!


Whereas the younger Steven's brother was sure of the fact, his brother gay,
for John, a hunch turned into truth. After the first morning, taunting each
other with how it could have further, if the tent stay upright, they didn't
hide it, lying there totally naked on top of their sleeping bags the next
night.


In a fatherly response, John complained when Mack began firing questions at
him faster than he could think.


So, John, on his way to the next station in life, he wondered how things
were going to pan out. For certain, the ranch was situated in beautiful
country. The path to where he was supposed to work was a bit rustic, but
not any different than the trails he and Mack tread upon.


"Hey, wanna get the door for me?"


Waking out of his reverie, how could John miss the dude, naked from the
waist up, walk right past him? How could he refuse a man, laden with boxes,
piled up to under his chin? "Sure thing," he snaps to it.


It's not which John has never looked upon a dude's back, but there it was
in front of him...beautiful, not a mark of imperfection, "I'm supposed to
meet up with a Doctor Krempl, at the ranch infirmary..."


"I'm headed right there. Keep following. I'll introduce you to him," Jared
responds.


When John finally got to the door, opening it, his back was to the inside,
which made it precarious for Jared to pass through.


"Here," Jared shoves the 3 stacks of boxes into John's chest, "while you're
being helpful!"


With a pack on his back, hugging both shoulders, shoulder bag over another,
small suitcase in his other hand, John protests, "really, um...what was
your name?"


However, John didn't mind it much really, having to drop the suitcase to
catch the bundles with one hand. Like he's learned, bad things can turn to
the good, finally looking about that fine chest.


"Jared," he informs the young man, "Jared Krempl," not allowing John to get
a word in, "and you must be Doctor Stevens?"


"Nurse," John replies.


Showing Jared he wasn't about to be a push over, like his dominant,
overbearing father, "here's your boxes," he shoves them back into Jared's
unsuspecting hands, "Dr. Krempl. I'd like to know where I will be staying,
so I can drop this load?"


His flashed smile was quick, Jared thinking about `dropping a load
himself!'


"Of course. Second door on the left."


It was good Jared and Shane had quickly made friends, bonded, slept
together, being able to get information out of the head human resources
manager.


At the time, Shane had protested to Marco, attorney, taking on hiring
responsibility. However Shane got over it, after the salary
increase. Personally, it was also an asset, knowing the history of every
person who walked the ranch, before setting foot inside the gate.


For Jared, knowing Shane, it's how he got all the dirt on John, before he
even laid eyes on him. Shane was thorough in investigating an
applicant. Though, something he would never admit to anyone, checking out
the male of the species, he would dig deep, almost back to the birthing
years.


This is how Jared knew `which room' to guide John to.


"Furnished," John says, walking in, "how nice."


Quaint smile, almost devious in a way, Jared says, "yeah. That's all my
stuff."


John was no dummy, looking upon the sole bed in the room. It was he who
tutored Mack in the ways of the gay life, based on internet resources, not
the other way around!


Being sly, John drops his stuff on half of the bed, jumps in the other
side, "well then, since everything else is yours, I claim the bed!"


That made Jared scratch his head. Other nervous reaction, which he rarely
suffered from this condition, was rubbing his stomach with the unused
hand. >From what he gathered of Shane's itinerary, "I thought once we got
to know each other, we could share?"


Too, Jared wasn't used to `asking', more making a statement and making it
stick with the other guy.


Certainly, the physical, looking up from a lying down position, Jared
looked awesome. Muscled in a different way, John would use what he had to
his own advantage, "whew! Stuffy in here. Mind cracking a window?"


Turning around, Jared was miffed, but not in the way he would at some other
guy. "No problem," he caves.


John thought it good, Jared finding it a hard time getting the stuck window
to open. Gave him more time to unbutton his shirt, strip it back and off!


"There!" Jared turns back around, "I hope you're..." he swallows, "happy,"
his voice thins.


Apparently...the jig's up!


"How did you know..."


"When your ranch human resources person went snooping around for
information on me, I had our family attorney do some digging too. I thought
to myself," John rises up off the bed, "I said, `John, what better place to
be than out in the cool fresh air, walking around, not caring about whether
or not you're going to jumped because you're gay?'"


By the end of his little speech, John is arm distance from Jared.


"Then what did John tell himself?" Jared smiles.


"John then told himself, `wouldn't it be nice if he met up with some nice
gay doctor?'" John takes a tiny step forward.


Jared gulped, wondering how he could have possibly gotten
out-foxed. Regardless, this is here and now and instead of wasting time,
"so, John, he's okay with sharing a bed?"


"Let me ask...John, you okay with sharing a bed with a hot doctor?"


They both wait, until Jared breaks silence, "well, what does John have to
say for himself?"


"John says actions speak louder than words!"


%


Camping before noon? Not for the rest of the ranch.


Down east of the barn, several took to feeding cattle, weeding gardens,
sharpening tools and repairing fences.


Even for the children whom lived at the ranch resort, not all was running
around, playing tag, swimming, nor hide'n'seek. One thing they tried to do
is `hide', hoping their parents or guardians would not `find' them. After a
while though, there weren't any hiding places that were secret and they
were immediately put to work. Kids were good at picking berries, though
some of the tiny delights would never make it to the dinner table!


Rita found the quarters satisfactory. More important, it was like one big,
happy commune, filled with laughter and love, a place where she would like
to have her Jon grow up.


"And Rita," Margaret took to showing her around, "this is my daughter,
Angelique. For the summer, at least, she will be in charge of taking care
of the children."


Jon was with her. For an 8-year old, he was okay meeting other kids, but
shy around adults, using his mom's leg for a hide'n'seek place!


However, it wasn't long before Jon tired of that game, hearing Angelique
sing, "come out, come out from wherever you are!"


Like on cue, the other kids rush in. Originally the plan was, wait until
later, but kids are too curious to stick to plans!


Right in Jon's face, cutting in on Angelique's intent, getting to know the
boy first, "hi. I'm Davy and this is my little brother, Danny. The baby
over there, he's Martin. We have more friends, but they aren't here right
now. Hey, you wanna catch some frogs?"


"Can I, mom?" Jon excitedly asks Rita.


However, the evil-monger kid-sitter steps back in the ring, "not now you're
not. It's almost lunch time."


"Oh," Davy is glum. Then cheery, "maybe after lunch we can catch frogs!"


"After lunch is weeding the garden time," Angelique reminds.


If it wasn't for her iron fist, the kids would play every day, all day, but
they too needed to learn responsibility.


She got along with the kids well. Even when Davy told her he didn't like
her, for not getting his way. Five seconds later, everything was hunky
dory!


Then that was it...Jon one of the pack, which followed Angelique off, on a
nature tour, before circling around to the dining hut.


%


Meanwhile, back at the infirmary, Jared had barely gotten John out of his
clothes, when a dark figure lurked over them.


Precise time, dragging John's pants to the floor, Jared turns to say,
"really, Shane?"


Even though Shane stood there, at 5'10", there wasn't much to look down
upon, Jared 6'2" and on his knees.


"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you with unwrapping one of your trophies,
but duty calls. Besides, you can't wait till the evening bell rings?"


John just sat there on the bed, shirt off. Connecting the dots, name the
family attorney often mentioned, `Shane', the muscled 24-year old jumps to
his feet, pulling up his pants!


"Oh shit-Shane!" Jared blames his some-times-sex-partner on tumbling him
back onto his ass.


Laughing, Shane says recklessly, groping himself, "if I'd known you were
that hungry, Jared..."


John, on the outer circle presently, stood there, slowly buckling his belt.


Getting up, Jared says, "well you could've at least knocked, Shane!"


"What?" Shane delivers with audacity, "at my own bedroom door?"


Looking down at the bed, John surveys it for roominess, coming up with,
`yeah, three could damn well fit!'


"Um, maybe we should talk about that, Shane?"


"What's there to talk about?" Shane then directs at the newcomer, "you
don't mind sharing, do you?"


Even though John liked bedtime lukewarm, one guy in his arms when he fell
asleep in the dorm, "never fell asleep with 2 men in my arms," he hunches
his muscled shoulders in a shrug.


It didn't shock John. At college, he'd often seen 3 or 4 guys all tangled
up together. Waking one morning, his room mate wasn't in bed with him, but
in the other bed, with 2 other guys. He's witnessed a room full of frat
guys, whereas there was no place to stand, sit or lie down, unless it was
on top of another guy. Nope, this little fracas between Jared and Shane, it
wasn't going to scare `John' off!


"Might be kind of cozy on a cold night...it does get freezing here in the
winter time?"


Seemed like John had all the answers, something neither Jared nor Shane
were thinking.


"Well, sure. And snowy," Shane replies.


Edging his way towards John, Jared says, "but if it doesn't work, we can
always kick Shane out!"


Shane and Jared, it wasn't like a romance built on a rock to stand for all
time. Shane, he wasn't into that type of a relationship. More of a come and
go, multiple partners with varied interests.


On the other hand, he knew Jared could easily fall for the right guy, even
though he was into `pre-marital' romps in the sheets. Shane knew one day,
what they had going might eventually wind down.


Stopping all the little catchy phrases, Shane looks at his watch, "the
time...the time," he turns to walk out.


"Did you want to see me about something, Shane?"


A sultry glance towards John, Shane says, "nothing which can't be put off
till tomorrow!"


 For certain, Shane was a no nonsense guy. It's why all the boys, young and
old liked to get with him, when decked out in his leather, chaps `bursting'
with energy!


"Hmm," Shane dwell on it. "Well, you two have exactly one day to whip this
place into shape. Tomorrow a new bunch of offenders hit the ranch and it's
your job," Shane pounds a finger on John's muscled chest, "to perform
physical examinations."


Withdrawing the finger, Shane puts it in his mouth, savoring it as if a
lollipop!


Turning to leave, Jared breaks silence, "bye, Shane!"


"Does he always walk around with a chip on his shoulder?"


"Nah. In reality, Shane is lovable huggybear. One day you'll find out."


"I will?" John questions.


Going at this with sensitivity, the 34-year old doc says, "all depends on
how good a cocksucker you are."


A show of confusion on his face, John asks, "how do you even know..."


"I didn't. But with Shane, he don't do anything on his knees in front of a
man."


Now the chip on his shoulder, John exclaims, "What's his problem?"


Jared could go on all day with a tirade of Shane, his personality, his
pleasures, the `leather thing', "where were we?" he rubs hands together.


"Mind if I ask one more question?"


Motioning to `go ahead,' Jared waited the fraction of a second.


"Are you all `sex', or do you like romantic moments?"


Walking over to John, Jared sticks out his head, licking the side of the
nurse's face.


State of his own shock, John stood there, Jared walking away. It was
strange to him, getting licked on the side of the face, much like a dog
would do. Well, he couldn't very well grab his bag and rush out of there,
having signed on the dotted computer line. Calming, with three quick
inhales and exhales, John thought to himself. One of those things, was how
fast Jared managed to unbuckle his belt and peel his pants down to his
ankles. Not exactly love at first sight!


Exiting the small side room, entering the bigger one, John thought it was
weird...


Standing there, pondering things, Jared, still shirtless, was planing both
hands up and down chest and stomach, "geez, where do to start, where to
start?"


Then he stopped doing that, which John was glad, because it was starting
his engine going again, "I would just open the first box on top and go at
it from there."


"You're the man!"


He really wasn't, John thinking of himself as the `new' man.


Unpacking, conversation drifted in and out, where each of them were from,
university, course work, family, then lastly, the Berkshires.


"No, I'm not kidding," John says, after telling about his and Mack's
camping trip last summer.


Stopping for a moment, Jared pulls two beers from a waist high
refrigerator, "so, your brother fingers your hole and..."


"No, not my `hole'. He wasn't anywhere near my hole. He didn't even get it
in the crack!"


"Well, have you ever had a finger in your crack?"


"No," it sounded ridiculous to John, "you?"


Jared wasn't blaming John for anything. Apparently, his gay-sexual
dictionary didn't contain all the meanings, explaining it all, "uh! Saved
by the bell. I'm starving. You?"


John was, starving for knowledge, but other things he was sure Jared left
unsaid!


%


With everyone piling into the mess hall, Rusty quips, "where'd they all
come from?"


"Yep," Josh places a hand on Rusty's shoulder, says in a plain way, "so
many men, so little time to fuck."


"Josh!," Rusty scans him from head to crotch, "what happened to you?"


"Oh, this?" he speaks of his arm in a sling. Cast molded around it, Jeremy
makes light of it, "little biking accident. I was trying to show Jeremy how
to do it and lost track of my concentration, side-swiping a tree."


Sympathizing, Rusty says, "Are you okay?"


"Yeah, well, it had to be my jerking-off hand?"


"Life is tough." Spotting Michael, "I hope you're better," Rusty gives him
a dopey look, "soon!"


Meeting up with Michael, and his crowd, he inquires, "what happened to
Jeremy?"


"You should know, Michael, when you jerk a guy off too fast?"


Like it was true, Michael exclaims, "really?!"


Rusty has learned how to respond, not allowing his lover to joke like he's
serious, slapping the back of his hand over one of his bulbous pecs,
"shut-up!"


"Oooo, don't do that or else I might need you to break a hand!"


"Yeah right, Michael... like, the way you go at me, it's no wonder you
haven't broken a lip!"


Destroying what could have been a lucrative moment of cock-play, Michael
says, "oh. Here."


All but 2 spots on a bench were occupied at the long-length tables, which
were reserved for them. Helps hanging with a bunch of friends.


"Hey guys. I hope Michael's been behaving himself?"


Tad Parker, the group `slut', 26-years old, reliving his teen years, "are
you kidding? Been trying to make Michael misbehave, to no avail!"


It made Rusty proud, to think, being around such a bunch of hot men,
Michael hasn't lost his cool, "probably because he knows what's going to
happen if he's bad!"


Rusty cackled onward, but it put Michael under the line of fire.


"Oh? Is there something we don't know about you, Mikey, except your perky
sensitive spots?"


"Who me?" Michael says, for Rusty's benefit.


They've all buddied up, for activities, normal or abnormal, there for one
to watch out for the other. Slowly they had acquired members of the bunch,
until they had a nice hangout group.


One night, Tad had a date, but didn't want to meet the leatherman without
some backup. He's done `the scene' before and knew the risks of bondage,
without someone he knew close by, in case it got out of hand. Tad had done
the research, knew of some lads who went on some s&m dates and got too tied
up in their emotions to think about the constraints of their own free will,
or that it would be taken away from them.


It had happened to be Michael's birthday and the gang turned to Tad for
some ideas!


As things turn out, Michael had done to his nips, things he never thought
could turn a man on so. Next day, the way his shirt rubbed on his chest, a
guy could feel pain, but for Michael...well, it was tough trying to keep
his crotch from becoming too active, from a pair of rough nips!


Unknowing of all of Michael's history, Rusty has his suspicions, based of
how jovial the posse could get, "I have a feeling there's more to it, than
what you're saying, Tad?"


Tad, who at the leather club could so easily fall on his knees, slaps
Travis on the back, "change seats with Rusty, Travi. We gotta talk!"


Crunching up from the bench, Travis says for all their benefits, "you all
saw that...Tad assaulting an old man?"


Oldest of the Seattle Gay Pride flock, Travis, 60, was treated with the
most respect. Partially it could be, for a guy of his stature, he wore his
`age' very well. An aging guy like that, able to maintain a full 9c or
more, it made some of the men get dry-mouth from time to time. Not to
mention, squirm in their seats!


Tad cooly retorts, "I'll let you get even later, Travi!"


Though they had their moments, breaking out into an orgy, amongst
themselves, with invited guests or crashers, they left stuff like that for
private moments. In public, after finding out how overly sensitive
Michael's nips were, it's become fashion to tag a guy with a little
tweaking.


It sets Travis laughing, after harshly pinching Tad's nip, "count on it!"


Rusty, standing there, knew Michael could take anything from a slight
nip-massage to nails, but unsure of Tad's threshold, "oh man, that's gotta
hurt!"


Guys all glancing from Tad, to Rusty, quipping to one another,
`no-big-deal,' he knew there was more to the story. Though, Tad wasn't on
Rusty's mind right now, Michael the mainstay of his thoughts.


"So, what about Michael?"


That's all it took, for not only Tad to add to the conversation, but the
others chiming in, starting with Dirk, all about `nip-teasing'. All the
chatter boiled down to the same, Michael `king-of-the-hill' when it came to
pinching nips roughly.


"So, when are you going to make your move, Ed?" Dirk poses the question to
the only one not adding anything to the pot.


"Huh? What on earth do you mean?"


Once again leaning into Edmond's ear, Dirk seductively mentions, "that
hottie you've been stalking for the past 10 minutes?"


"Ridiculous," Edmond replies, nervously chugging a drink of water.


"`He who hesitates, is the loser', and that's all I'm going to say about
that!"


Having been with the Seattle bunch, hiking down the Rockies from Canada,
Edmond has learned, as the others knew, unless you `did something about
it', Dirk would hound a dude until he did!


"Excuse me," Edmond gets up from the table, "but I've gotta use the little
boys room."


No one pay Edmond any mind, so the 32-year old just left.


He did have a little help from Dirk, hands shooing him away, adding a wink,
"good luck!"


Edmond would need it. Not too keen on his meet and greet skills, he was
trying to think up some catchy phrases, before he got to Coury's table,
which happened to be along the path to the boy's room.


Unlike some of the guys at the ranch resort, Edmond wasn't scared away from
the home front by haters. In fact, his mom and dad were overwhelmed by
their children announcing they were gay and then proceeding to find their
way in the world. `Children', Edmond's younger brother too is gay. Fact is,
after Edmond fit right in on the ranch, he invited KC to come for a visit.


Like his brother, Kerry Crane followed his step-brother out to the other
coast of Canada, Vancouver, to attend college. Similar to Edmond's
interests, KC liked to get out into the open air and do some hiking.


Edmond had no clue to how he became involved in hiking the mountains. For
certain, he didn't pick it up, them growing up on the east coast. Though
they did learn some survival skills, like if there's nothing else to eat, a
person could fashion a hook from a paperclip and use anything sturdy for a
line, sinker optional. Edmond certainly did remember that little hint,
having brought the fishing line, forgot the paperclips!


Claiming hardly any interests, other than listening to music, Kerry did do
the dirty work, the part his older brother hated, filleting a fish. Very
shy, it brought Kerry out of his shell, doing something Edmond was not good
at. It also resorted to fun, Edmond faking he was angry at Kerry, the two
getting into a rumble, taking it to the carpet and pulling some fake
punches. Less than half the strength of Edmond, Kerry knew it was fixed,
putting his older brother in a headlock.


Last time they did rumble, Kerry had to say something, that while he did
have Edmond in a headlock, pubes pressed up against his older brother's
butt, some kind of reaction taking place.


It had accidentally come out of Kerry's mouth, but it set Edmond to
thinking, `is he like me? Nah, can't be.'


But it was to come true, Kerry popping the question, `you felt something
too?'


Then Edmond laughed it off, saying, `I feel something just by looking at
you!'


What Edmond meant, trying to fake sleep, while his younger bro walked
through the room to the bathroom, licked his lips, wondering how his
brother's ample sample tasted.


The outcome, was coming out, to each other. At the time, the two hugged
each other, for quite a spell, until Kerry asked, `uh, do brothers like,
get it on?'


Edmond was certain, `probably it's not unheard of.'


That was then and this is now, so walking across the mess hall, sight set
on Coury, Edmond's mind was coming down from his past brotherly
history. One difference, Edmond's thoughts were not on how a bromance could
go, instead looking for more than a one-night-stand.


What was very strange, when their eyes made a connection, Coury, right in
the middle of speaking with a couple of guys at his table, stops, stands
and nervously asks, "care to join us?"


Edmond, thinking he would make the first move, "uh, sure."


Really, Edmond had thought he'd simply introduce himself and meet up
later. However, `now' was even better!


Like Coury, counting heads, the table was full.


He wasn't sure Coury was serious or joking, "Wisssst," he made a whistling
sound, throwing his thumb out the door, "Bart, get lost!"


They were surely on good enough terms, Bart reading between the lines,
getting out of his seat, pulling his 19-year old boyfriend by the arm,
"c'mon Zack. I can tell when we're not wanted!"


"They don't need to leave," Edmond says, "I can..."


"Nonsense," Coury pulls the chair out next to him, "they were all done
anyway. Why don't you have a seat here?"


With two vacant seats, Edmond had his pick, but took the chair offered,
"thanks."


The others at the table were a mix of Bart's friends and one other
counselor. They all knew what private time with another means, Josh saying,
"c'mon Eric. Time to change my dressing."


Josh means the broken arm. Doesn't pain him too much, considering Eric
loves it when a dude lays there in bed and takes on a complete tongue
worshipping!


Coury knew, a hard cast could only be changed by a doctor, but admired Josh
for giving him and Edmond their privacy.


Hints could be a strong magic, the others taking flight.


With only himself and Coury at the table, "I didn't mean to scare everyone
away, especially when they were all paying attention to you?"


Not one to giggle, Coury does, "the truth? I really had my attention on
you, way before you walked across the room," and in a smitten manner, "even
before then!"


"Really?" Edmond was amazed, both on the same love-track.

"So, you're not with anyone?"


There was Sam. However, as Coury was finding out, more than boyfriends,
they were `boys' and `friends' and not mashed up, "can't say that I am, but
that could change."


Again, "really?" Edmond is again taken aback.


Slip of the hand, touching Edmond's thigh, slipping down between the legs,
Coury's discrete plan brushes against `something', "really."


With everything new to everyone, there were things being done, which a
person could live to regret. Like right now, Coury leaning lips towards
Edmond.


Be it one of the kids, 10-year old Davy Clayton, passing by on his way to
the boys room, "you can't do that stuff here. My mom says!"


Like he was teasing the two, Davy says his peace and runs like wildfire!


"His mom says!" Edmond laughs at the whole thing.


With the romantic part shelved for now, Coury stirs up conversation, "so,
where is it you work?"


"At the moment, construction, though I'd really like to someday form a band
and move into music."


"Oh? What instrument?"


"Back home I mostly played guitar. My brother, Kerry, sang lead. I provided
some backup harmony, but I'm more than capable to take up the lead."


Following Edmond's history, Coury wondered how that principle would apply,
in bed. Rather than get reprimanded by some tyke, eavesdropping on their
conversation, "where is it you are from?"


"Prince Edward Island, Battery Point Road area. Know of it?"


"I've heard of the island, but not familiar with the geographics."


Not which Edmond felt it a point to brag about one's wellbeing, "an upscale
area. Kerry and me, we had it good growing up, but our parents taught us,
not to let it go to our heads."


By the sight of his ginger-brown hair, green, emerald eyes, caring way he
presented himself, Coury could only assume, "I was already under that
impression."


Enough family shop talk, Edmond asks, "so, what about you?"


"What about me?" Coury questions, only wanting to stare at the remarkably
handsome soul.


"Hometown? Brothers or sisters? What are you looking for in a
relationship?" Edmond thought he would put it out there.


One thing Coury had already thought about, Edmond being younger than
himself, maybe 5 years. So deep in thought, about the hot ginger-man, "uh,
what was that?"


Edmond smiled. In reality, coming over to Coury's table, he had hoped for
some light chit chat and then getting something more, "I think we have time
for a walk, before the days work gets going?"


Taking it as an invitation, "I was just about to bring that up," Coury
scoots his chair out from under the table.


About to leave, the two turn back, one of them being named, "setting bad
habits for the new guy, Coury?"


"Wha... un, no Bart. Why?"


Strangely, only weeks ago, a shoe was on the other foot, Coury setting
paces in the offenders program, Brett on the receiving end. Now that the
program has provided remedial training and a change of attitudes, it's as
if the two were on the same plane of respect.


Coarsely, Brett says, "what do we look like your maids? Pick up after
yourself!"


Then Brett went marching away. Didn't matter if a dude wore the top hat in
the kitchen, except Antonio, if given a job he had to follow through. With
new people joining the workforce nearly daily, Brett made sure the newbie
under his direction was shone the correct way of doing things.


"I'll be damned!" Coury stood there, both hands on hips, like he was taking
a stand. Breaking out of posture, "I guess a man's gotta do what a man's
gotta do."


Even though not his table, Edmond helped clear plates, coffee cups,
flatware and rubbish from Coury's table.


Didn't take long, Coury saying, "thanks for your help."


"Don't worry. I'm already thinking of ways of payback!"


"Yum!" Coury was all for it.


%


Life had certainly changed around the ranch for himself, Rusty making the
rounds, talking to so many which he had either talked with casually or more
often. Those whom he reconnected with introduced others in their division
of responsibility.


The part he liked most was slowly developing as a ritual, he and Michael
going back to the cabin after breakfast and `doing a quickie.' The day was
long and until all the work was done, they wouldn't be together until
around 4p.m. Even during lunch hours Rusty would not have a chance to say
more than a `hi' to Michael; Shane, Aldo or his father needing his
immediate attention.


Rusty and Michael learned, through time, to cherish every waking minute
together. If Rusty had to do any long distance legwork, which took him off
the ranch or out of town, being at the top of the ranks, he held the power
to `order' Michael off the construction work for one hour, one day, week or
more.


That too was about to change.


Such was the brainy idea of Marco Veneziano, do everything in his power to
make his son happy, he officially took Michael off the chainsaw. Being in
the position he is, having friends in all the key places, he was sure of
Michael's history, right down to the size condoms he used. It took long
enough, but between Shane, Aldo and a private investigator, Marco was
certain Michael would make him a proud father-in-law!


%


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.