Date: Mon, 20 Nov 2000 21:30:07 -0500
From: Light Mountaineer <blondeallover@hotmail.com>
Subject: A Connoisseurs Feast   Part 1 - the Chase

                     A Connoisseur's Feast
                     Part 1 - the Chase
                          by blondeallover@hotmail.com


The following is an account of a fantasy created by a cyber-friend and
myself.  All the usual warnings apply.  This is an erotic story written to
titillate and arouse its readers.

************************************************************************

One might consider me a connoisseur.  I am a connoisseur of cock: hard
cocks, soft cocks, cut cocks, uncut cocks, big cocks, little fat ones,
straight cocks, arched or curved cocks, definitely thick cocks.  They say,
"variety is the spice of life".  When it comes to the male sex organs, I
like life very spicy.  I like to look at, feel, smell, and taste well
formed, animated, responsive cock.  When attracted, I will be solicitous,
affectionate, and pandering toward the cock, balls, bush, and ass of any man
who meets my fancy.  In the following account, I will confess more about my
narcotic predilection toward the most vital part of those of my own gender.

An uncle of mine convinced me to spend time at his ranch out west.  I
managed to schedule my local clients' work over the longer term.
Negotiating with neighbors to tend and house sit my rural property, I
hastily packed my small car for the cross-country trip.  I had convinced
myself I need the change of scenery.  In the month or six weeks I would
spend with my uncle, I agreed to organize his business data to be automated
using a well-known accounting and small business software package in
exchange for his hospitality.

Upon arrival, I found the wide open vista green sloping valleys surrounded
by the rugged snow capped mountains a pleasing change from the close and
cramped steep and deciduously dense hills, partitioned by the narrow
"hollers", so typical of my Appalachian environs.  I also noticed the
diligent ranch hands were not unpleasant for my perusal.  One in particular
warranted a double take.  He seemed to this easterner almost a stereotype of
western outdoor masculinity and then some.  His jeans were decidedly tighter
than the others wore, flatteringly outlining outstanding definition in
thighs, narrow hips, bubble butt, and front bulge.  By mid day his western
cut plaid flannel or denim shirt was unbuttoned half way down, revealing a
breathtaking spread of chest hair up to a collar bone stretched to connect
to strong broad shoulders.  The hair on his chest matched the close cropped
dark brown head of hair, festooned with well-cropped sideburns.  Piercing
brown eyes set off by distinct high cheekbones characterized a perpetually
sensuous expression.  The incessant teasing he endured from his mostly older
workmates triggered him to frequently break out in a sunny but rugged and
toothsome smile.   Arriving on the premises at dawn for a pancake breakfast,
he would sport a stetson that would seem at least one quarter size too
large.  His elaborately patterned freshly polished cowboy boots would always
be dirty and scuffed by day's end.  He would be accused of donning this
impractical garb to suit the fancy and whims of his "lady".  "Boy, you might
take a lot of crap to get some pussy, but take it from some old ranch
fuckers, you don't want to let yourself get whipped."  The way they would
feign real concern, mouthing this advice with their colloquial drawls, had
an especially comic effect.

I was prepared to take risks to see more of this manly beauty.  I would
watch carefully to note where these "dudes" would take breaks to pee in the
open.  I hoped that I would be able to detect a distinct pattern in his
urinating routine.  I would be able to position myself seemingly innocently
at a point in front of where he would thrillingly withdraw from his tight
garments that concealed prize that would be the object of my focused study.
In defeated frustration, I could discern no consistent movements to gratify
my urgent curiosity.  I had to resign myself to this frustration for
unending weeks, settling for unsatisfying masturbatory fantasies in the
shower.  But I could be patient.  When it comes to matters of the cock, I
can be unyieldingly persistent.

With only a couple of weeks left in my sojourn in the late summer, I was
hard at work at my uncle's computer when I thought I heard an especially
noisy outburst of laughter and joyous frivolity coming from the horse
corral.  When I approached the scene of this frolicsome event, the oldest
hand among them turned to me mustachioed, "oh Blondie, you're going to like
this!", chortling and chuckling away.  "Cowboy Bob here, that is, our
`stallion' Bob made camping reservations at the forest for two at the
beginning of next week.  It seems after several months later, he neglected
to tell his lady friend about it until yesterday."  This prompted another
round of guffaws at the expense of the red-faced buck.  "Of course, now she
is pissed off meaner than a she-mule and tells him she has to work and he
better find himself someone else to sleep with under the stars."

Before all settled down, one of the other workers spoke up.  "Boy, don't you
know you can't order your lady around like a pizza?  Lord knows, it will be
a long time before you get another delivery."  Another round of snorts and
belly laughs erupted with the announcement of this ribald metaphor.

The oldest piped up again.  "Sheeiit! . . .  A looker like you oughta go to
town tonight and carouse up another lady to take with you on your love
fest."  To the thorough amusement of the others, the man with the mustache
pursed his lips and blew mock kisses in the direction of the embarrassed
younger.

Bob could only conjure up a weak retort to counter the impression of his
lack of sophistication.  None of this was being communicated the way he had
planned.
""Merle, that's dumb!  That would make Anne only angrier if she knew I
planned to take another girl camping."  The remark only increased the pace
of jests and catcalls.

Another hand shouted out, "well lookie here! .  .  .  . we've got ourselves
a regular 'Dear Abby' in the affairs of the heart."  I felt for this guy and
his uncomfortable predicament.  I knew when he left the ranch that night, he
was sorry he ever arose that morning.  How many days had I had like that
myself?

I was sympathetic, but even more so, opportunistic.  The next day I planned
to have lunch with the hands.  I would do this from time to time for my
amusement and to gain some insights into the surrounding environs.  On this
day, I would exploit Bob's vacancy in his camping plans without further
adding to his embarrassment.  It was a delicate task, but we cock men have
to be crafty.  It was an unusually warm day for so late in the summer and
some of the hands already had their shirts off as they approached the open
air dining benches for lunch.  Included among them was the one whom I
pursued so fervently.  For a minute I was unnerved, almost gasping at the
sight of his glistening strong rounded shoulders topping off bulging biceps.
  A barrel chest of two broad round pecs served as ample foundation for the
thick brown chest hair that covered them, a sumptuous dark line reclining
from the foot of those sculptured
mounds along six pack abs, to where a new graze of hair sprang up starting
just above his navel. The furry dark line partitioned the lower meadow like
an ominous fence extending below his belt only to be interrupted where a
fertile imagination might conjure.  If I was going to retain a cool
disposition, I had to stave off the empty feeling in my abdomen and the
increasingly intense tingling in my midsection.  Taking a deep breath, I
thought, "down boy."  It would not do if my cravings were detected by any of
the assembled by discernable body language.    When we greeted each other,
my eyes wandered about all the men and food so no one would notice the true
focus of my attentions.  Regaining my composure, my avaricious resolve was
only intensified.

During the bean and cornbread meal, sure enough, the subject of Bob not
having a camping mate arose.  Even prior to discussion on this topic, I
spoke of how much I was impressed with the countryside in the area and how I
regretted that I had so little time to explore to suit my curiosity.  The
two topics of conversation intermingled smoothly but, at first, did not
connect.  Finally, one of the hands took the bait.  "Hey Bob, why not take
Blonde with you.  You're always bragging about how you know the forest
trails better than the rangers.  Now you have a chance to show off all your
familiar turf to someone who would really like to see it."

In my most modest and friendliest tone, I tried to pose a helpful resource.
"  I would be happy to split all the expenses with you, Bob."

My heart leapt, as I feared that the obnoxious oldest hand would derail my
strategy.  "Besides, you would score brownie points with the boss: Blonde's
uncle", he quipped as he crudely rubbed his fist, thumb and forefinger
against his nose. "Still, it wouldn't be the same as taking your lady with
you, lover boy."  Partially masticated food nearly dropped out of the
mirthful mouths of the other hands in their enjoyment of the latest joke.

Bob seemed to resist the barbs of his tormenter and very civilly responded,
"Thanks for the offer, Blonde.  I will give it serious thought and let you
know."

"Patience!", I counseled myself, "so far, so good."  That night, I was
rewarded when my uncle alerted me that I had a telephone call.  Bob asked
that I keep the arrangements confidential.  Unbeknownst to the others, Bob
had made reservations for a cabin.  He asked me if I would still be prepared
to pay half for the considerably more appreciable expense to be awarded to
the National Park Service.

"They are really nice.  They have working fireplaces and private baths."  I
readily agreed, excitedly realizing that I may be able to see more of my
love interest than if we had just been tent mates.  "You're all right
Blonde.  I got a sense that you are sort of an upright guy when I first met
you."

If he only knew.