Date: Thu, 31 Mar 2016 11:30:10 +0000
From: TCHASE MCPHEE <survivalgame@outlook.com>
Subject: ?JoLLy RaNCHeRs? 06

% This work of fiction is set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to
real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in
nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons of habitats,
governmental or non-governmental areas, farmhouses, nor barns.


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


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


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



Hey dudes, if you have enjoyed reading NiFTy stories as much as I have over
the years, consider adding some $upport for `internet $pace' or else I will
have to start cutting handsome, hairy or steamy characters out of my
stories. Do you dare imagine a story without any tops?

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html


%


"JoLLy RaNCHeRs" 06

WriTten by T. Chase McPhee


^   0   ^


%


Next morning, Rusty woke abruptly, right after opening his eyes and
realizing some dude was spooning him, arm slacked over his stomach, "What
tha," turns his eyes to the east.


In turning back over, off the cliff of his bed, he falls, landing with a
thud. Doing a slight pushup, Rusty checks, making sure nothing was
busted. Next, he thinks, `how stoopid', if he bruised a nut...would have
felt it!


Vaguely remembering last night, he recalls `arresting' some dude in the
barn!


Right after that recollection, everything else fell into place.


Coming inside, both peered into the refrigerator.


Many items were in containers. Unlabeled, neither wanting to spend time
doing a taste test.


Slamming the fridge door closed, Rusty opened the freezer.


Right off, Devyn recognized `pizza!'


It tasted like freezer burn warmed over, but the two ate it, Rusty knowing
why Devyn was gobbling it up!


Afterwards they showered. Both were a little sheepish when it came to
seeing each other without clothing on. Devyn had gone in first, stripped
and put a towel around the waist, while testing the water for hotness.


Rusty recalls the first time each lay eyes on the other, Devyn in his
towel, him still in boxers.


He smile, thinking how each admired the other, having taut waistlines,
defined abs, more than adequate crotches.


Giggling a little, Rusty pictures in his mind, when the extended time in
the shower caused the hot water to go cold and then fighting each other to
be the first to hop out!


When it came time to crawl into bed, Devyn didn't ask for boxer shorts and
Rusty, he take a leaping chance and went to bed without covering his loins
for a change!


It did take a minute for Rusty to warm up to the idea of climbing in next
to Devyn, but temptation often gets the best of everyone.


Talking was shortened by desire, both giving in to kissing, more kissing
and then getting down, hot, in a frenzy.


However, something Rusty could not remember, was who made the first
move. Looking back over his shoulder, did it matter?


Reluctance to get into bed with Devyn gave way to a comforting attitude,
after that first kiss. One kiss led to many. `Definitely,' Rusty does
realize, Devyn had been the first to touch below the belt and right now,
thinking about it, Rusty was feeling a `little something, down there!'


Good thing, after the first falling out of bed, Rusty anchored himself,
Devyn's head almost in the recess of his pit. With weight on his shoulder,
not to the side, Rusty had more leverage against tumbling out of bed.


"Mornin'," Devyn stretches both arms out, adding a long, loud yawn, right
arm going the distance, suspended over Rusty's chest.


At first, it was really strange, seeing Devyn's arm cross over in front of
him, almost under the chin, of which Rusty, a little nervous, says, "Oh,
hi!"


Turning over, a smile on his face, Devyn places clasped hands on the middle
of Rusty's chest, the rest of his bod matching up down yonder. Right in
Rusty's face he says, "Hi there."


Fanning the air, Rusty says, "you got dog breath, dude!"


Tight-lipped, Devyn loosens them, "I suppose that means I don't get a good
mornin' kiss?"


Rusty props himself up, pecks a kiss onto Devyn's cheek,
ever-so-quickly. When his head hits the pillow, "Good mornin', sunshine!"


Scooting himself over onto his side, Devyn says, "Can't say I've ever
wokin' up to so much sunshine," he smiles.


Relating to not only the facial greeting, Rusty didn't need to say, senses
picking up on arms, caressing, drawing him into Devyn's fuzzy chest.


"I think I could get used to," Rusty wasn't sure what to call it, "all
this?"


Devyn had the same feeling, "mutually."


Along with the vibes they were getting for each other, they also began to
develop some mutual feelings, beyond cuddling.


"I like the feel of you on me," Rusty smiles.


He had shivers up and down his spine.


"I'd sure like us to get to know each other, better?" Devyn replies,
rubbing the unpinned arm, hand, up and down Rusty's back.


Things began to develop, working each other like a synchronized machine,
parts well oiled, driven by sweat and emotion.


Rusty, for the first time in his life he felt a surge of relief, like
engaged in a gay event and not having to wait for the fallout. Soon, the
machine gave way to parts moving in contrary motion, Devyn slipping down
Rusty's stomach.


"Oh-h-h-h!" Rusty gasps out loudly.


Down between his legs, Devyn lifts his chin, wiping the saliva and other
juices with the back of the hand, "Did I do something wrong?"


Not which Rusty was about to make a fuss in the negative, "No. You're doing
everything right!"


Playing Rusty, Devyn asks, "Uh, should I keep it up until you tell me to
stop?"


"Fair assumption," Rusty returns.


For his first cock-suck-job, Rusty relaxed, made no motion to do anything
appeasing for Devyn's benefit.


Suddenly Devyn pops off, "Hey, you ever six-nine a dude?"


He knows he's communicated it, Rusty reiterating, "Remember, I never did
nothin' with a guy...except kiss, and like...that was you...last night?"


Devyn knew. It just felt cool, `breaking in' the new guy, "sure, I
remember!"


That being said, decides to trade off some licky-lick and suckin' dick
for...


"What're you doing now?" Rusty asks, watching Devyn change it up.


"What I figure is, since it is your first time, we should make it
memorable?"


"When something is so good," Rusty figures, "it's not easy to forget?"


"My thoughts exactly!"


With that, Devyn shimmies himself up. He only learned this little trick,
out on the rural road to nowhere. Staying at a farmhouse, he wasn't at all
taken aback by the farm and stables run by two gay men. An education for
himself, the two opened their relationship for the first time, to involve a
third. Really, what it became is a lopsided affair, though Devyn did not
mind it all, lying there on the side of the bed, watching the two get it
on, stroking up his own pleasures.


He learnt much, like right now, slowly moving knees on the outsides of
Rusty legs. When all zipped up, it was Devyn's intentions of catching his
hard tool in the `zipper', right under Rusty's balls. He wasn't a big 9c,
like the farmer, but managed to keep his 6.5 in a hardened state, slightly
stroking, using Rusty's thighs as a `hand.' Too much and Devyn would have
surely worked himself over the edge.


"What are you trying to do?" Rusty finally says, sitting up on the haunches
of both elbows.


In an effort to impress, because his shaft didn't have the stature of the
farmer, "Um, it's not working out like I planned it."


"Plan? You have a plan? Um, do all guys have a plan before they start to
have sex?"


Feeling things go sour, Devyn says, "Uh, no."


Instead of continuing in words, explaining Gay Sex 101, Devyn slid his
knees down, "Oh no!"


Looking up at Rusty, it was more to find out what his mate thought, falling
down flat, only to have the tip of Rusty's cock stab him in the navel!


"Hey, that feels good," Rusty says. The feeling of Devyn's shaft fucking
his bellyhole, both stirs the senses and tickles.


It was the first time for Devyn too and he could not deny it didn't feel
good, "Really? You like that, do you?"


Of course, it wasn't part of the plan, but Devyn has learned to takes
instantaneous things all in stride.


"I do," reserved, Rusty says, "but is it anything like doing a guy...you
know?"


Comparing a bellyhole to a dude's ass, Devyn says, "On a scale of 1 to 10,
zero!"


He laughs, Rusty chuckling, but at the same his cock was telling him, "So,
when do we get to that part?"


On the road, a guy's gotta do anything for survival, so Devyn's done it
all; suck, get sucked, fuck, get fucked, do kinky stuff to guys at their
request and have kinky stuff done to himself, "Don't worry. I'll take care
of it. Just lay back and enjoy it!"


"Are you sure I'm okay for you?"


At first, Devyn didn't get it, but then getting it, Rusty new at all this,
"Are you joking? You're awesome!"


Devyn also sensed the implications of awesomeness, feeling around for
Rusty's shaft. Moving the tip towards his cave, he was ready to give hint,
of how it was to go.


However, he lost his balance, impaling himself, "Argh-h-h-h!"


Most likely, if it hadn't been the first time, Rusty might have felt
apologetic, but Devyn's accidental descent enveloped him up in one swoop,
"Oh-h-h-h-h-shit!"


What hurt at first, impaled on Rusty's tall, fat stick, suddenly started to
feel okay. It's not been like, at 25-years old and hiking around the
country, bartering sex for a meal or money, Devyn hasn't taken in some
hefty logs.


After settling into a motion, Rusty's endeavors, he had the impression he's
been fucking forever, "Wow! It's not at all how I thought it would feel!"


After the initial shock, Devyn could sense it to, but there were better
ways, "Wanna try something different?"


"Sure. Whatever you're up for, is fine with me."


Though, Rusty had his doubts it could get any better than this!


Jackknifed over a hot poker was okay, but Devyn much more preferred, "I'm
like this and you come up behind me, if it's okay?"


He had knelt on the bed next to Rusty, all fours.


Rusty sits up, giving Devyn more room, "Don't worry. I know how this
goes. Accidentally walked in on my room mate when he and this other dude
were getting it on."


"And they didn't ask you to join in?"


"I was still in the closet."


"Oh," Devyn replies, deciding he better give the play by play routine if
they ever decided to make it to breakfast.


Rusty really didn't need much instruction, once he was behind Devyn. More
it was nervousness, feeding his cock into the hole, "You'll tell me if it
feels weird?"


It was much different, a dude impaling himself, rather than being the
impaler!


Devyn rolls his eyes, "I'll tell ya!"


Going for broke, Rusty announces himself, "Here goes nothing."


Nothing turned into something and as Rusty discovers, this position was
much better than Devyn lifting his ass off and on.


So fantastic was it, he discovered himself coming, just when he was getting
started, yelling, "I'm ready to, `you know'...like, what do I do?"


"Pull out and lay your cock on my backside, but keep stroking it with your
hand."


"What?" it sounded far-fetched to Rusty.


"Just do it, dude!"


Rusty did it and was amazed at how much and how far his shaft shot, almost
hitting Devyn in the back of the neck.


Underneath, it didn't go without saying, or rather moaning, Devyn shooting
his load into the sheets.


Both turning over, Rusty, who had gotten worn out, slumped to Devyn's back.


When Devyn turned around, Rusty's chest slipped off.


Having no recourse, Devyn lay on his back, right in his own goo.


Then, when they hugged, all that gooey mess got trapped.


Rusty hugs Devyn, finding his hand lathered up, "Ewe!"


"It's not going to kill you, you know?" Devyn watches Rusty look over him,
knowing he was staring at his own hand.


Bringing it over in front of them both, Rusty says, based on his own,
"Doesn't look any different from mine?"


Figuring this might gross out Rusty, Devyn took a chance, "Probably doesn't
taste any different either!"


Eyes about popping out of the sockets, Rusty watches as Devyn licks his
fingers off like popsicles, "Ewe, dude!"


Whether it would gross Rusty out even further, Devyn says, "Yum...makes me
wish I took it down the throat and not up the ass!"


Rusty senses he needs a shower, jumping out of bed.


As he tears out of the room, Devyn just laughs at the whole thing. Though,
one good thing about a fuzzy front, all that luscious goo gets trapped in
the fibers, "Yum!"


Then, lying there alone in the bed, Devyn was thinking, indeed he could get
used to it. Barely getting into the cuddling and kissing, the sex was
great. Different from other times along life's road, Devyn was happy about
being elected to have sex, rather a trade off for a meal or money. Second
thoughts, maybe this was just that!


Then he hears shouted to him, "You going to get a shower, Dev?"


Devyn couldn't wait for a repeat performance!


%


Last night, much to everyone's dismay, wanting to sleep in on Monday
morning, they awoke to a text on their phone.


The only one not receiving the texts, was the one whom initiated it and his
sleepover guest.


Rising up, out of bed, Ricky was first, being quiet so as not to disturb
Marco. However, he did whisper, "Gonna miss you, y'know?"


Lying on his back, sheets in a tangle over his pubes, Marco's

dark-haired chest rose and fell with the rhythm of sleep.


Ricky waited a second, in case Marco was faking it, which on occasion had
been the case.


He didn't flinch a muscle, so he thought it safe to disappear into the
shower.


After the father-son scene with Rusty, Marco and Ricky had discussed it
before finding some action in bed. Since Rusty hadn't taken the news so
confidently, Marco thought the best thing would be to slip out of town,
giving his `son' some freedom to think.


Even though he `forgave' Ricky for not prepping Rusty with his confession,
Marco punished Ricky with a harsh fucking.


When Marco finally got up, heading into the bathroom, Ricky was toweled at
the waist, on his way out. Instead of the usual, `you finally got up',
"It's sure going to be quiet around here without you, babe?"


What his siblings hadn't realized, the house Ricky was moving into, would
be time-shared from Marco. The `time' would be while Marco was away. Truly,
they were not a tight couple, unless Marco was forcing himself into Ricky's
hole. Most of the time, when Ricky was invited to Marco's place, two others
were there to join in. Sometimes they'd involve themselves in
roleplaying. Regardless, it all wound up as a foursome, sometimes
five-some, in the bedroom, but not necessarily in bed.


Responding to Ricky, Marco knew how lonely it would get, saying, "What're
you complaining about? I'm going to have to start a new black book,
y'know?"


"Thanks for the parting gift," Ricky smiles, a thank you for leaving the
old book of names, numbers and other descriptive material.


"I want it when I come back!"


There was a smidgeon of melancholy, Ricky thinking, maybe a waste of years,
being so open about their relationship. He also knew it worked for both of
them, because they enjoyed life that way, almost on a kinship kind of way,
sharing themselves with each other or `another.'


%


Rusty had stay in the shower as short a time as possible. A few swipes of
the soap over his chest and stomach, down between the legs and then over
his head was deemed enough. Rubbing both hands over his chest, to make sure
there were no traces of the slimy goo, he realizes something. Both nips
were sore!


Forgetting, when drying off, the harsh fibers of the towel made a chaffing
feeling, which absolutely, took a toll on raw nips.


Then, Rusty forgot all that stuff, smelling, "Coffee!"


While changing into boxers, it became a guessing game, whiffs of food
picked up by his nose, "Smells like bacon and eggs," though some of the
others were too faint to recognize.


"Hey, good mornin' sunshine," Devyn flipped bacon in the pan. "Hope you
didn't mind, I borrowed a pair of your boxers?"


Devyn stood there, purposely stretching an arm overhead, scratching his
itchy nose with a bicep, looking like a model. Boxers added a swagger,
revealing hairy pubes.


Rusty still stare, "no problem. What's for breakfast?"


"Basic. Bacon, eggs, coffee, biscuits."


"Where'd you get the biscuits?" Rusty tears attention away from Devyn,
looks down at the countertop.


"Made them from scratch."


Rusty was impressed, "Good. From now on you're my private chef!"


"Only chef?"


Smiling, Rusty walks around the counter, picking up a coffee mug, "and
other chores. I'll let you know what they are as they happen!"


Taking the cup, Devyn pours out coffee, saying, "By the way, your phone
beeped. I think you have a text, but I didn't want to be a snoop."


"You could have looked. It's not like I have a boyfriend or anything!"


Being coy, Devyn says, "I thought you did!"


While Devyn plated the breakfast foods, Rusty checked his cell.


He almost didn't follow through, seeing it was from, "Marco!"


"He wants to come over and play some frisbee?"


Last night, both told each other some past and present tense history.


"No," Rusty replies, unaffected by Devyn's stab at father and son humor.


Being it didn't hit the mark, Devyn says, "Okay, then what does he want?"


"`Marco' says we've got an hour to be in his office. I imagine it's about
my father..." disturbed about the impact of Marco's news last night, "I
mean, Tim."


Hurrying was key to getting there, but Rusty wasn't making a move, sitting
there at the kitchen table, old, white, antique-looking farm table that
looked like it either needed maintenance or taken to the dump.


Placing a plate in front Rusty, Devyn says, "Well then, you better get
crackin'!"


With attitude, Rusty replies, still looking at the text, "I'm not hungry."


"You hired me as your chef. You have to eat, or I'm going to think, what
you said, was just being nice?"


Devyn was being cute, which tore Rusty's attention away from his
cell. Then, staring at him bustle around the kitchen, grabbing up two mugs
in one hand, pouring more coffee, "You take it black or with milk?"


"With milk."


"Too bad. No milk!"


In the moment of feeling down, Devyn made him smile. Not only did he have a
great sense of humor, but his new friend, maybe more, was very good
looking. With thinking this, it was like Rusty was feeling skin all over
again.


Devyn knew he probably needed a haircut and to trim up the beard.


Contrary to this, Rusty thought Devyn was beautiful, reddish-brown hair
over his pecs, stripe down the middle, fanning out, but coming together in
a treasure trail. It's one of the options, of hair patterns Rusty dreamt
about. However, more than the physical, Devyn was just fun to be around.


Curious now about what Marco had to say, Rusty replies, "Black it is,
then."


Not what he was thinking five minutes ago, Rusty sat there and did feel
hungry, taking baby bites while listening to Devyn speculate about what
Marco had to say.


Shooting his mouth off, Devyn was like captain of a cheerleading squad,
"You're going to be fine. Trust me, make it look like you are the toughest
client ever, who walked into Marco's office."


"But I don't know any of his clients."


"Oh," Devyn said in a low tone, but perked up, "well then just pretend
you're Ken Choi, from `American Crime Story'."


"Huh? Why Choi?"


Tilting his head back and forth, Devyn says, "`cause I kind of got a crush
on Kenny!"


Nodding his head up and down, Rusty replies to that, "Cheating on me
already, huh?"


More upbeat, Devyn says, "Hey, you into threesomes?"


Considering his experience, Rusty tells him, "I'm just getting used to a
twosome!"


"Uh, we better eat."


They ate. One of the things Devyn did continue to lurk on about, he didn't
care about more than one dude in his life.


Both down the last sip of coffee at the same time.


Then, like his personal valet, Devyn rushes, "Leave the plates. C'mon, I
don't want to miss the meeting of the mindless!"


Rusty was not looking forward to it, but did appreciate Devyn's stab at
cheering him up.


Thinking about it Rusty had known, a person should be in the ground, before
the unraveling of the will. Never being able to get along with `Tim,' Rusty
had a sense of decency still, respecting those who came before. Especially
with reasons beyond Tim's control, he was trying to be nice, sending him
away. However, Marco suddenly claiming being his father, made it all so
confusing.


When they were all ready to go, Devyn borrowing some of Rusty's clothes, "I
don't think I can drive."


On a finger, Rusty held his car keys in front of Devyn, like `take it,
you're driving!'


He took the keys, saying, "Okay, but my license is expired?"


Shrugging his shoulders, half serious, half being funny, Rusty says, "No
sweat. My dad's an attorney. He probably makes a living getting guys like
you off the hook!"


After saying it, it did leave a funky taste in Rusty's mouth, thinking of
Marco as his `father.'


"Guys like me, huh?" Devyn questioned the validity of that statement.


Walking downstairs, Rusty leading, they hear the front door slam.


Before Rusty could get a word in edgewise, Evan is saying, "You wanna hear
the good news or the bad news first?"


Rusty felt his heart stop, "Is it about Hoot?"


"No, nothing's wrong with Hoot," Evan peers over Rusty's shoulder. "Hey,
you holdin' out on me, dude?"


"Hey, I'm Devyn Cleg."


Approaching Devyn, it was his hand held out like a stop sign which kept
Evan on his own turf, "Sorry. I'm taken!"


Now, that was one thing Rusty hoped Devyn wasn't joking about!


However, carrying on for him, Devyn says, "Here," he tosses the keys to
Evan, "I hope your license isn't revoked!"


Jaw dropping open, Evan responds in horror, "How did you know?"


"Really?" Devyn was amazed he guessed correctly.


"Not really," Evan says, turning towards the door.


"Uh, Evan?"


Spinning around like a ballerina, Evan says, "What?"


Rusty presses, "the good and bad news?"


"Oh. Well, there's really no good news, unless you consider, when Al left,
the whole crew went with him, except...me?"


Even after knowing Evan only a few short minutes, Devyn jokes, "So, Evan,
what's the good news?"


Knowing it was a flirtist's remark, Evan holds a fist to his heart, "Oh
man, you really know how to hurt a guy."


"Didn't mean to," it was as if Devyn asked for forgiveness.


Rusty jumps in with a more serious attitude, "I think what Evan was getting
at, the bad news, we don't have anyone to work the farm, except Evan, who
has volunteered to stay, which I don't know why?"


The question put to Evan, the two knew how he had raved on and on about
sucking up to Al and reaping the rewards of tenderly making his fat cock
bloat.


With an agenda on for the morning, Devyn says, "I think we better head on
out?"


Evan had the truck right out front, so they all squeezed in, Rusty in the
middle.


After a brief history, how both Evan and Devyn happened upon the ranch,
Evan asks, "So, how long do you plan on staying?"


Devyn says, "I dunno. I'll leave that up to the boss, I guess!"


Figuring on it, Rusty thought, long as Devyn minded his manners and didn't
become like Evan, chasing men around the yard like a rooster, he could
stay.


Evan interrupts his train of thought, "So, I suppose, with all the others
gone, that makes me foreman, huh?"


"No offense," Devyn leans in front of Rusty, "but you'd make a lousy
foreman, Evan!"


Rusty smiled, kept from laughing, thinking the same thing and glad Devyn
had the balls for speaking his mind!


"I'd beg to differ there, Devyn and I'm willing to prove it."


"And how would you do that, Evan? Have a pitchfork throwing contest?"


"Hmm," Evan thinks on it, "might not be a bad idea, with an apple on
Devyn's head, but no...thinkin' more about a wrestling match!"


There were several things which with Devyn, went unexplained, about his
past life, though he wasn't divulging anything not pertinent, like how he
was on the wrestling team at school, "You're a wrestler?"


In a proud manner, Evan says, "I've watched enough WWF!"


"Oh well, then you've probably got me beat, but being a good sport I am,
I'll accept your challenge."


Rusty asks, "What was your sport in high school, Devyn?"


With modesty, he says, "The wrestling team."


They all almost hit the dashboard, Evan stepping on the brake, "No way!"


"Well, that's one way of dealing with it, Evan, putting your contender
through the windshield?"


Rusty adds, "And his cheerleader?"


Not a stranger to kinky stuff, Evan says, "2 against 1, huh? Might be kinda
cool."


"Me?" Rusty states, "You'll `not' get me in the ring. I'm nonviolent!"


Devyn was ready to dispute that, the way Rusty went to town on his ass last
night...and this morning!


Soon they pulled into the meek little town of Owl Creek. Incorporated
during the gold rush, it had dwindled in numbers, until ranchers began
settling in the area. The Cleg Ranch was not the only one, but surely the
oldest and largest. Though, with Tim losing money, it wasn't the most kept
up parcel of land in the area.


Pulling into a parking lot on the side of a brick building, Rusty was
suspicious, "How do you know this is where Marco's office is, Evan?"


Of course he wasn't expecting the question, but he was a good faker,
"Because, there's like 2 city blocks and I think I've got the place
memorized, dah?"


"That's what I thought," Rusty lies.


Devyn, a smart out of towner already gathered what Evan's reputation was
about, nudging Rusty in the ribs.


Sitting there, Rusty asks, "Well, one of you guys going to get out or do I
have to climb over you?"


Evan raises a hand, "I volunteer!"


"That's okay," Devyn jiggles his door handle, "I don't need to make up
excuses for Rusty to climb all over me!"


Evan says snidely, "I can't wait to take you down in that wrestling
match. I know some good, underhanded moves!"


"Oh really? Before or after I squash you on the mat like a bug?"


"Hey, you guys better get going, before you miss your meeting!"


Rusty invited Evan to come along, but Evan thought it might get `sticky',
for the real reason he knew how to get to the counselor's office. It was
probably also the reason he took off in a hurry, burning rubber!


What a gentleman, Devyn holding the door open for Rusty.


"Thanks for coming along, Devyn."


"Hey, I got to watch out for your interests, if I'm going to apply for a
job out at the ranch."


Smug in saying, Rusty lays on Devyn, "I already have your application on my
mind."


"Okay, so can you put a good word in for me, with your human resources
manager?"


Holding the next door for Devyn, Rusty says, "I'll think about it!"


Rusty wasn't too nervous or upset, not with what looked like Ricky's whole
clan there, sitting or standing, but mostly Devyn in a chair next to him.


Everyone could see, the sudden interest in a guy none of them ever lay eyes
on before, Devyn's hands on the table, Rusty's left hand over his right.


Ricky was the first to speak up, not with official business on his mind,
"You want to introduce your friend to us, Rusty?"


Perhaps Rusty didn't feel the eyes, when he and Devyn walked into the
room. Naturally, odds against him, like everyone knew everyone else, "Hi,"
he makes it clear, "I'm Rusty's friend, Devyn."


A few of the Valdez-Pau'au-West clan knew they hadn't seen Devyn around
town, especially Troi, a Pau'au, kept tabs on every cute face who walked
the streets, which is why he questions, "I haven't seen you around?"


All eyes shifted to Ricky, "Oh, stop it, Troi." He adds his own assumption,
"Welcome to the family, Devyn," shakes the lad's hand.


Ricky had to stretch around the back of Rusty, which prompts Troi to get
even, "Make it quick, Ricky, before Rusty here pops a..." realizing he was
in mixed company, "um, a can of beer!"


Manu, standing right next to Troi, leans in to his bro's ear, whispers,
"I'd like to get my mouth under his tap!"


It made Troi smile, but not respond.


For the most part, every eye was on Devyn, ears open to the ensuing
conversation.


Rusty, he was more paying mind to Marco. He just wondered if he was going
to get looked straight in the eyes, or...


Like he predicted, as if Marco didn't have the guts to do so, looked more
at the matriarch of the combined families, "Let's not forget why we're
here, ladies and gentlemen?"


Rosa, the main focus, Rusty acknowledges her with a `hello'. However, he
was whacked out of his gourd when Mama Rosa rose out of her chair, comes
over, grabs Rusty up in her bosom and gives his head a hug, a kiss on the
forehead, "Welcome to our family, honey."


Everyone looked at everyone else, Kira proudly remarking, mainly because
Mama Rosa was so accepting, "Yeah, welcome to the family, `honey!'"


"Why don't we get down to business? I'm sure there's many in this room who
have other things to attend to today?"


In order to capture Marco's attention, Rusty picks up on Ricky's comment,
"Yeah, can we get on with it, `dad'?"


Owl Creek being a small town, usually news traveled within the course of a
day or two. Depending on the incident, if very shocking, it could be
hours. With the matter at hand, it hadn't thoroughly circulated.


Ricky's older brother, Maurice, who has always felt somewhat obligated to
side with Marco, since he had helped put him through law school, stands, "I
think we can get started with me saying, while Marco is on sabbatical from
the law firm, that..."


Maurice wasn't on the soap box long, Rusty saying in a radical tone,
"What's this?"


Like thunder, after lightning strikes, Devyn's hand of comfort was on
Rusty's sleeve, trying to force calm.


However, that hand was not the only soothing force in the room, Ricky, who
had given his chair away to Kira, still stood behind Rusty. Placing his
hands on both of the 19-year old's shoulders, is supportive of Marco, "it's
not like he's running away. Marco...um, your `father', takes vacation at
this time, every year."


"Oh," Rusty says solemnly, it jogging his memory, how Marco and Ricky took
vacations together, returning to the West family birthplace, in Fiji,
"right. I remember." Devyn's touch seemed to have some effect, Rusty
mellowing out, "sorry `about that."


Kira gets the evil eye from Marco, not which she cared, saying, "Why are
you being sorry, Rusty?"


One thing Rusty had already thought of, Marco, his father, keeping a secret
all these years, except sharing with Ricky, it must've been quite guarded,
for the clan not finding out.


Coughing, like he had too much fluid down the throat, Maurice carries on,
"As I was about to say, while Marco is away, I will be carrying on with the
family business."


Of course, Rusty could have labeled Marco a coward, for excusing himself,
saying he had a client to attend to, but without him in the room, much of
his anxiety began to depart.


For a while he dwell on his `father' taking some time off, away from Owl
Creek and his own life, because maybe he needed some time out.


As things began to sink in, Maurice presenting how things would go, from
here on out, Rusty forgot about that part of his life and thought about the
here and now, especially the guy on his left!


%


Whenever Marco had some free time, which was mostly evenings and weekends,
he engaged in activities conducive with ending up in bed, or tent, or
trailer, or whatever habitat he and his trick occupied.


On occasion he met up with the local `bears' club, pitching tents a
distance from the lake, on acreage owned by one of the club members.


Pete Bloemker, 28-years old, had early on decided he was going to be
`rich', without all the hassles of college. Tuition was steep and sitting
in a boring college class, only to graduate and not make use of that which
he learned, it didn't sit right with him.


It's not which Pete was lazy, nor stoopid in his ways. On the contrary he
was very smart. Watching out for himself in high school, he had fucked
almost all of the football team, of which being gay, or straight, it didn't
bother him. By the time he graduated, he had a nice wad stashed away for
future plans.


Not at all consistent with what he charged, if a footballer was from a rich
family, he paid double, $100 for a hot fuck. `Poor' kids, they got off with
half that much, or if Pete felt more compassionate for a dude, who couldn't
even afford a hug, they got off easy.


It's not like Pete, robbing from the rich, got stung by the charity
cases. There was always the `motel', usually patronized by out-of-towners,
on business, passing through. From a town over, local law enforcement,
manager of the local supermarket, and dozens of others, who would pay out
for what Pete had to offer. Tips were encouraged!


When Pete's folks decided to retire to Florida, being the only child, the
farm was given to him. Never close as a family, when they up and left him,
they neither turned a head, nor ever came back for a visit. That was eight
years ago.


Pete's father ran a lucrative horse business, buying and selling. With no
interest in it at all, Pete sold off those assets and banked the
money. While waiting around for a developer to grab up the prime real
estate, with a picturesque view of the lake and small brook, he made use of
the land and outbuildings.


Because of his special interests, he advertised his place as a retreat for
the gay community. Not in billboards, ads in the paper, nor community
bulletin boards, Pete started out small and then let the word get out.


When the high school football team, two years after graduation, was looking
for a cheap spot to host their reunion, Pete said he could let them have
use of the `campground' at a cheap rate. Of course Pete included in the
rate, participation in the `community games.'


Tag football could be entertaining for a certain number of hours a day. In
fact, out of 7 days, carved out of a week of spring break for the students
from different colleges, after the first day, the former footballers had
had enough of reminiscing. What Pete had planned, was enough to forget
about football altogether!


Cagy, Pete had thought up activities, like fishing, row-boat races, other
water sports, land activities, getting dirty in the mud pool, wrestling,
all which the contestants worked their tails off for prizes.


Weeks prior, Pete had made it up himself, a stack of `chance' or
`consequences' cards. Winners picked from the `chance' stack. Even if a
loser picked a card which didn't appeal to him, he could barter with
another guy to take on the burden of which the consequence entailed, like
running naked through a valley of peers, having whacks delivered to the
ass. Rarely did anyone complain if pecs or stomachs were attacked. Balls
were off limits, Pete explaining his insurance wouldn't cover any
accidents!


However, Pete felt he couldn't handle this all on his own. From hearsay,
Pete approached Marco in his office one afternoon. Explaining his idea,
Pete rapidly learned he and Marco were on the same page with either
watching or participating in men sucking or fucking other men, or even
getting a little kinky with tying a dude up and working with a buttplug,
dildo or set of beads. Marco liked Pete's idea immensely, with consolation,
`skip the toys and use the real thing!'


With Pete asking Marco if he knew any other mature adults, who could get
their jollies out of having this kind of fun, he recommended men whom he's
had regular and kinky fun with; the town butcher, the new tennis coach at
the high school, whom liked to swat more than a tennis balls and other's in
town and the surrounding area. He even knew of a state trooper who didn't
see enough action on the interstate!


However, this was not one of those times, when Pete was holding a week or
weekend of rowdy guests. Right after he left the board room, he was on his
phone to Pete.


Frankly, Pete owed Marco much. In order to set up a campground resort,
there were town papers to file, fees to pay up front, then signing papers
which he hadn't much idea what `the legal language' entailed. When it came
time to pay up, Marco tore up Pete's bill, on condition he had lifetime
access to the campground.


Pete had had no problem with that, Marco's hard shaft a big draw. More than
this, his attitude was one of, you didn't go behind his back and if you
did, you accepted the punishment.


He was a real actor, something Marco had drummed up in college. First time
he met a guy, he could be fierce. He knew how to read people, how to
respond. Important, since Marco didn't want to scare off some hot boy!


However, some dudes, when they came out to the campground, looked forward
to a little roleplay and loved it, a man like Marco being there. Always,
the first order of events, when the boys arrived on a bus from town, was to
`strip!' Imagine an order like this, coming from a mean s.o.b.!


Today didn't have any of those attachments, Marco arriving at the farm and
pulling right up to the main office.


Ever since he had to deal with this `family' stuff, confessing to Rusty of
being his bio-dad, it's bothered him. Like, right now, he had to get out of
there, leave the meeting, because he couldn't look his own son in the eyes.


"Can't look him in the eyes, huh? You feel that guilty?" Pete asks him,
sitting on a railing used to hitch horses.


"Right," Marco replies, reluctantly.


Going back to when `the bill' was due for his services, Marco had gotten it
in his head, might be fun to treat Pete like a slave for a week. Living at
the far, Marco was in the lap of luxury, having drinks brought out to the
lake, steaks barbecued to perfection, other meals brought to him on the
veranda. Other amenities, Marco had Pete undress him, shower him, give him
a massage.


Much to Pete's duress and complaints, he had to lower himself, shot down
from man on top, to perform oral sex. Not just one day, one night, Marco
had an insatiable desire to be sucked off and the cum reserves to go
through with more than a couple of blowjobs a day and plenty of leftovers
for evening pleasures.


Right now, when he heard Marco's need for retribution, Pete says, "Let me
guess this straight, you want to be `my' slave?"


Insisting, Marco says, "I just feel it's what I need, feeling like the
lowdown asshole I am. If you don't want to, I can pay another guy to do
it?"


"Well, that certainly made me feel good," Pete says in a sarcasm way,
"you'll pay another guy, but I have to work for free?"


"Work, Pete? After all I've done for you?"


It's not the first time Pete's heard that phrase thrown around by Marco,
like getting first dibs on a hot college boy's ass.


However, this was different, Pete asking, "Tell me something, is it true
you're a virgin?"


"What do I have to do...take a lie detector test?"


"Nah," Pete smiles. "Just checking. Okay, much as I would hate to bust your
cherry ass, I'll do it, if it'll make you feel vindicated."


Marco wasn't sure, but right now he felt like shit, so to be treated in
that way might do something to boost his morale.


Instead of a lean-to at a campsite, they headed straight for Pete's
bedroom.


Starting to loosen his tie, Pete stops him, "Hey, what about me first,
`slave'?"


Well, there wasn't much to strip, Pete having been out back, chopping
wood. Though, removing the tank top, Marco did have to give it several
pulls, peeling it off Pete's back as he bent over.


After doing so, Pete pops up, Marco saying, "Man, you reek!"


"I know," Pete smiles.


Somehow, Marco gets the impression, maybe he lay it on a little heavy,
about the submission part.


Sure enough, Pete places both elbows up, touches the opposite shoulders,
"After you get me out of my pants, you can start by cleaning my pits, boy!"


`Oh man,' Marco thought, `Pete's using the same routine I used on him!'


Then, being the master of ceremonies, the atmosphere was much
different. Right now Marco had assumed the masochistic attitude, simply for
feeling sorry for himself.


Having squatted to take each foot out of Pete's pants, Marco wasn't sure he
was cut out to be a cock-sucker. Having never been fucked, is not to say he
hasn't licked the underside of a man's shaft, nor bathed a pair of balls.


"On second thought, stay down there and clean my sweaty balls."


`Yep', Marco thought, `Pete's playing this to the tee!'


So, because he wanted this to be demoralizing, he licked Pete's balls, but
not before complaining, "The least you could do is shave them?"


Now, this was not part of Marco's scenario, played on Pete.


With the side of his hand, he slaps Marco on the jaw, sending him over onto
his ass!


"Hey!" Marco sits there, dumbfounded, "What was that for?"


A wise grin, Pete says, "I told you you were too easy-going with me, but
since you said you were looking for repentance, it doesn't go without
paying the price!"


He might have been into bondage and applying a belt to the ass, but for
Marco, that bdsm-shit was too much work, "Well, that's enough rough stuff,
so don't get any other ideas!"


"Yeah, sure," Pete replies. "Now get back on my balls!"


What was supposed to be regarded as punishment for penitence, was hardly
the case.


Pete, he couldn't help himself, falling onto the bed. After having Marco
strip for him and as he saw him at the gym do, flex arms, he told him to
get into the bed.


What the torture amounted to, was the two disagreeing over sucking and
fucking, even though Marco wanted the degradation.


Kissing, licking, soon Marco wasn't interested in getting fucked, but doing
it to Pete. It's not that Pete hadn't lost his cherry, but it might help
Marco's attitude, if he did get fuckt!


"No, I do you first."


"Now, you know I don't get fucked!"


"Right. So, why did you get me all revved up to take your ass, if you
didn't mean it, asshole?!"


By the time they were done fighting it out, Pete had a split lip and Marco
swore, "I think one of my ribs is broken."


"Only one?" Pete stood there, smiling, while his cock hung precariously
near Marco's lips.


He was stroking it, like giving hint.


"You can forget that," Marco gave Pete's pecker a ping.


Setting it to bounce up and down, Pete says, "You don't think you're
getting away without paying for wrecking my room?"


Bringing it on himself, he was half-joking, Marco saying, "Why not? It's
not only your room that's wrecked?"


Pete knew, the reason Marco came there, which made him, instead of think
`revenge', slid his ass down on the floor. Leaning against the wall, he
says, "So, what are you going to do about Rusty?"


Both men sat there, cock and balls to the floor, `holding up the wall',
Marco in a frustrated attitude, "I thought I would take a long vacation."


"Bad idea," Pete replies.


"Why? I thought getting away and allowing Rusty to think things over, it
might be helpful."


"I think it might take more than whipping your butt with my dick, to give
you a wake up call!"


"Wake up to what?"


"Even though you let another man raise him, sending him off to boarding
school was as guilty as walking out on him, you know?"


"I came here, hoping maybe you would cheer me up, Pete?"


"Really? I thought you wanted your butt whipped?" of which Pete was still
feeling the pulses.


"I didn't know what I wanted, or what I expected. Just maybe," Marco
stutters, "maybe what I need is a friend?" he places a hand on Pete's knee.



"C'mon," Pete gets up, offering Marco a hand, "let's shower and then we'll
talk about this."


"Whatever," Marco agrees.


He knew he wasn't going to get a crack at Marco's ass, but being playful,
Pete at least got some revenge, reaching up both hands and giving each of
his nips a quick pinch and a twist, before running off.


It did surprise Marco, realizing just how sensitive they were. Though,
rubbing both thumbs over the nubs did create quite a sensation!


%


With Marco out of the way, Rusty quite a calm in his whole being. Enough,
so that when Maurice started rattling off facts, he became aware of to the
reason why he was there.


"You okay?" Devyn whispers in his ear.


"I'm all right, thanks."


He paid attention to Maurice, telling about Rosa, footing the bill for
paying off the mortgage on the ranch and other terms, which would make them
partners in the deal.


With no one else there to defend his interests, Rusty turns to Ricky, who
informs him, "Trust me, it's a good deal, considering, if you don't take
Mama's money, the ranch will go to the bank."


Even though Rusty had thought about it, what Ricky stood to gain, being a
member of the family, before all this came about, he trusted him, which had
him turning to Maurice, saying, "Okay. So, what happens next?"


"I draw up the papers, you sign, and I take a check from Mama Rosa,"
Maurice replies.


She wasn't there to speak for herself, but that's why Maurice stood in for
her.


What also kind of made things a bit more cozy, Maurice's wife, Alice and
their son, Mauri, had shown up. While he was shaking the kid's hand, the
11-year old asked if Rusty could teach him to ride a horse. Other than last
night with Devyn, it had been a long time since someone gave him some
self-worth.


Then, most of the family left, leaving Rusty and Devyn there with Maurice
and Ricky. Kira said she'd be in touch, for that celebratory drink!


%



Copyright 2016 T. Chase McPhee


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