allbecauseoftheboys:

allbecauseoftheboys:

vallentiro14:

Ryan stood under the cold spray of the outdoor shower and thought. The shock of the water temperature on this summer day mixed with the post-nut clarity lead him to feeling ashamed of himself. Ryan, seriously – you let the farrier fuck you? That guy? He’s old enough to be your dad almost. And he’s not even that hot. That was a bit slutty of you. You don’t need to be laid that badly do you? Ryan ran his hands over his face. Do I? It was two weeks since the last one, when I hooked up with that Grindr guy passing through town. Usually I can last a month. Maybe it’s cause it’s hot and everyone’s shirtless. Ryan was not convincing himself. Mostly because it felt pretty good to get laid, and Ryan knew he needed more of it. He could not deny that.

Ryan turned off the water and shook off the droplets. It would be another six weeks before the farrier came back to the ranch. Is this going to become a steady thing? Ryan wondered. He liked the idea of having a steady fuck, even if it was the farrier. Six weeks was still a long time to be considered “steady” in most places, but out here in the middle of nowhere that was still considered pretty lucky.

Ryan sighed and toweled off his muscles. God, if he could get laid once a week – maybe twice a week! – that would be heaven. Ryan glanced up and realized his horse Marcy was staring at him on the other side of the fence. She’d not seen him naked before. Ryan pointed a finger at her. “Don’t get any ideas. Also, can you go find me a prince? Thanks.” She snorted and walked off.
Ryan sighed. He needed a man. In the old days you could just place an ad in the paper for a “country husband”. “Country slut needs gay ranchhand” would not work. Ryan was gonna have to get creative. Now he’d been freshly fucked, all he was gonna think about for a while was getting his next dick. This was a problem that could not be solved by a trip to the feed store.

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Captions are fictional.

Ryan rested in the saddle and gazed around the empty pasture being swallowed by darkness. All the horses had been brought in for the night, but Marcy was nowhere to be found. Usually when he brought them in, she would linger and headbutt Ryan for a treat in case he had a sugar cube or peppermint candy in his pocket. But she wasn’t there.
Ryan was concerned enough that he borrowed Judd’s horse that was still saddled and rode out into the pasture to sweep the corners and check for breaks in the fence. Ryan was dreading finding a dark, motionless shape on the ground, but so far, nothing. It was a relief, but Ryan was baffled by her absence.
How did she get out? Sure she could jump the fence, but Marcy was a particularly stubborn and lazy horse. If she jumped the fence, something would have startled the entire pack and they would have all bolted in a panic. Someone Ryan worked with would have noticed the commotion.

Ryan took off his hat, rubbed his forehead with his dusty sleeve, and put his hat back on. He sighed. The shame and regret from letting the farrier fuck him earlier was sinking in deep now; it was uncomfortable being on the saddle. He wanted a hot plate and a hot meal – and a soft, comfy sofa. Plus it was near dark now with the sun down and the bugs were out. Ryan swatted a mosquitos on his neck. “Goddammit.” He guided Judd’s horse to walk the fence line that ran parallel with the road. He swept a flashlight over the fence as he followed it for a couple minutes.

A truck was approaching, so Ryan lowered the flashlight beam. It was one of those LED things that had the power of the sun. The truck put on its hazards and pulled over anyway. Ryan didn’t recognize the truck or the young man driving it, which was surprising. A lost traveler maybe?
“Can I help you?” Ryan drawled.
“Are you missing a horse by chance?”
Ryan tilted his head. “Matter of fact I am. A mare, a sorrel with a blaze.”
“Well she’s on our porch,” the young man said. He looked amused by the whole thing.
“Your porch?” Ryan repeated. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you?”
The young man waved. “Carter Whitehouse. I’m Bill and Margie’s grandson. I was working on a ranch near Yellowstone for a bit, but I just moved out here to help them on the farm and renovate the house since Grandpa Bill’s been sick.”
Ryan held his breath in his chest. He wasn’t a religious man, but god if there was a chance – any chance at all, that Carter would be up for kissing another man- Ryan wanted to take that chance. He cleared his throat. “Well that was mighty nice of you. They’ve been over asking for help a bit, I’m glad they have you to rely on now. My name’s Ryan Dumont, my dad and I run this place.” He jerked his thumb to his left.
“Pleasure to meet you.” Carter was studying Ryan. His grandparents talked a lot about the Dumonts. They were old fashioned, and although they appreciated the Dumonts as neighbors, they had made comments about “the homosexual” who lived there. Carter really hoped that was who they were talking about. Because Jesus Christ, the Marlboro Man could have passed the torched to him.

Ryan cleared his throat again. “Well. I better go get my mysteriously vanishing horse off your property.” He instructed Carter to drive onto his property and meet him at their barn, where Ryan would drop off Judd’s horse. They would ride back to Carter’s, and Ryan would ride Marcy bareback home.

The conversation in the car was brief, as the trip was three miles down the road. Sure enough, Marcy was hanging out in the Whitehouse’s front lawn, eating the grass, tied to the fence.
Ryan couldn’t help but chuckle. “You silly girl, how did you get over here?” She whinnied at the sight of him. Ryan stroked her nose and she headbutted him in the shoulder. “Young lady, you don’t get a treat, you misbehaved today.”
She flickered her ears at him.
“Don’t get sassy with me.”
“She doesn’t seem sassy. She seems to be a real nice girl,” Carter said as he walked up.
“She is. Normally. She’s never jumped the fence before. I don’t know what got into her.”

“Well you know how it is with some horses, it could be the shadow of a cloud for all we know.”
That made Ryan laugh. He liked Carter’s sense of humor.

Ryan agreed to have the Whitehouses over for dinner soon, untied Marcy, and reluctantly bid Carter goodbye. He climbed the fence to get on Marcy’s back, and then steered her down the driveway and to the house with a borrowed bridle.

As he walked the miles in the dark, lit only by moonlight, Ryan had time to reflect on what had just happened. He still couldn’t explain it. He was also distracted by the soreness in his rear end. Stupid farrier with a great dick, he muttered to himself.
Back at the stable, Ryan ran the whole story by Judd.
Judd put his hands on his hips and thought. “It sounds like she wasn’t escaping something, but going after something she wanted on their property if you ask me. Another horse maybe? They bought two of your dad’s horses right?”
“Yeah, they did-” Ryan’s thought trail was interrupted by a moment of clarity. Wait, hadn’t he told Marcy to go find him a prince earlier? He looked at Marcy, who returned the gaze innocently from her stall. There was no way.
“Yeah, I’m sure she recognized their scents or something,” Ryan said quickly. “Come on, let’s finish up here. I’m starving.”
“Yeah me too. Come on, follow me with the blankets here.”
“Sure, coming, one sec.” Before Ryan did, he slipped Marcy a peppermint candy he had in his pocket. He patted her nose. “Good girl,” Ryan whispered. He could not wait to have the Whitehouses over for dinner.

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Captions are fictional. Someone here reblogged or liked one of my older stories, so I decided to write a sequel.

Ryan turned off the light and rolled over. He threw the comforter over himself and snuggled into the queen sized bed. Quiet. Crickets.
“Oh fuck it,” he grumbled. Like there was any reason for pretending he wasn’t going to be masturbating tonight. His dreams were going to be full of Carter anyway, might as make the most of it. He pushed the comforter back and shimmied out of his boxer shorts. They were already ripped and he cursed as he tore the hole bigger. Ryan dropped them on the floor and fumbled in the side drawer for lube, then settled back into bed.
Yeah this was definitely happening. His cock was already waking up. Ryan put some lubrication in his palm and curled his fingers around his shaft. He was going to have to use his imagination for most of this, because up to this point he’d only seen Carter in a tee shirt and jeans. The shirt was appropriately tight enough to outline muscles, but there was no pecs, no nipples, no trail of hair revealed. Same with his Levi’s, which had been creased, and held the round shape of Carter’s ass like a display piece, but gave no indication that what he was packing was anything other than average. Which was fine, really, cause cock was cock regardless. Ryan imagined he’d be a grower more than a shower, which was also fine, cause that gave him a lot to discover and play with.

Ryan’s thoughts drifted to the dinner they’d just had. Carter had shown up freshly showered, in a widebrim hat and oiled cowboy boots. He’d brought a case of beer, which was well received. He was polite and a gentleman, helping Ryan’s mom set the table and serve the food. Compliments about the steaks came freely. He even helped wash up and clean the table. She was fawning all over Carter, and Ryan was still mad at himself that he got jealous over that.

But he was happy when Carter’s grandparents went home after coffee, but Carter stayed. Ryan and Carter had sat on the screened in porch together, talking about ranch work, the weather, the horses, Yellowstone, Marcy the disappearing horse- nearly anything. Ryan found it hard not to stare at Carter. He had a square jaw and soft lips, wavy brown hair, and grey eyes. Who had grey eyes? They were the color of a dove’s wing.
Then there were his hands, square fingered, veins up his forearm. A scar on his left finger.
Ryan groaned, imagining those hands taking a hold of him and stroking with all their strength. He needed to feel that. But he was getting a head of himself in his dreams. He imagined when Carter set his mug down and stood up to go, that he began unbuttoning his shift and saying something like, “I think we both know the real reason I’m over here…”
And Ryan would protest, because for some reason, he always had to spend a good thirty seconds convincing no one he wasn’t a slut. But Carter’s eyes would turn to hard steel and he’d say, “Are you telling me you’re not giving me that ass?” Because of course a soft sweet-hearted boy like that would have a tone he used only in very certain situations. And it would probably be the same time Carter would take his belt off and hold it in his hands in suggestive ways – and Ryan would cave in.

Carter would tell Ryan he was taking too long, and “help him” unbutton his pants. They would be kissing by this point, and it was obvious it was getting out of control. Ryan would be afraid his parents were still awake upstairs and came downstairs and catch them. But there was no stopping this.

In bed, Ryan groaned and thrusted into his fist. Carter would make Ryan put his hands on the railing, ass out. The lube was a problem, because in sudden sex situations he’d heard of people using spit, but Ryan thought that was 100% gross. He could run back into the kitchen for oil, but that broke the mood and also run the risk of being caught in cause his mom was getting water or something. So Ryan just decided in this fantasy that Carter brought lube with him, because he’d planned on fucking Ryan all along. Yeah, that worked.

“Fuck me,” Ryan muttered to himself as he sunk deeper into his fantasy. Carter’s cock would look perfect of course, jutting out of a trimmed brown hair. It wouldn’t look like too impossible to take, but it would definitely be the kind of cock that feels bigger than it actually is. Carter would know what he was doing, he’d slide a couple fingers in to stretch, but he’d give his cock to Ryan as soon as he could. It would be tight and it would be tender, but Carter would tell Ryan he wanted it and he could take it. And Ryan would take it. And it would feel amazing. It would stretch him to the hilt.

Carter would lean over and say some dirty things in his ears. He’d give a couple thrusts for consideration, then shift into pounding Ryan against the railing. Maybe he’d say something like: “Let’s see how strong your grandfather built this porch railing,” before nailing Ryan against it. He would be real worried about their parents hearing them now, but Carter wouldn’t care.

In his bed, Ryan was sweating. Even at night, the air held its summer heat and the ancient AC struggled on the upper floors in this house. The insulation needed to be redone too. “Fuck,” he grunted. Imagining Carter’s balls hitting his own was making him go crazy. “Yeah breed me…fuck me…god…”

The orgasm was a blinding, fuzzy mess as Ryan pictured Carter nailing him in a rapid staccato rhythm as he exploded all over the porch, breeding him like a stud horse. Ryan’s hips came off the bed. He bit his lip and drew blood; a wheeze escaped his lips. Cum splattered on his hips and chest.

The fantasy wavered in and out of focus. At some point, Carter would slip out, wipe himself on Ryan’s shirt, and then just zip himself back up. “Thank you for having me for dinner,” he’d say in a drawl – although Carter didn’t have much of a Southern drawl, it sure worked in this instance. And Ryan would be left on the porch dripping and with a used hole, catching his breath as Carter put his belt back on. Carter would enjoy the sight of a fresh conquest.

“Jesus christ,” Ryan muttered to himself. His fist cramped and he left his softening shaft rest on his hip so he could shake out the pain. This is super bad. I need him to fuck me, or it is going to be a very very difficult with him living next door. As Ryan laid there in his haze, he thought back over dinner and tried to determine if there was any clue Carter was gay.

There was that glance, a drop of tension, when they were having coffee on the porch – but maybe it was just them bonding as friends? Well, that also wasn’t good. When was the last time he made a new friend his age? Judd was ten years older; they were friends and went on hunting trips with other guys, but Judd was also busy raising his niece.

Fucking hell. He needed to figure out if Carter was gay. Which he probably wasn’t. If Carter wasn’t gay he wasn’t ever getting fucked. But if he was straight, he could salvage this. There was a real shortage of available women out here; and a horny straight man could be convinced to jerk off another guy with his eyes closed if he was desperate enough. Ryan hung his hat on that hope.

Ryan stared at the ceiling. “Oh my god, I’m so pathetic.” He glanced at his wet hand. Either one of three things would happen. One is that he was going to have to buy more tissues next time they went to Wal-mart. The other was that the horses would keep mysteriously having shoe issues that would result in a premature call to the farrier. Or, Ryan’s fantasies would come true. The odds didn’t seem particularly in his favor for the last one. Maybe it was time to get religious and start praying.

With a sigh, Ryan got up to go clean himself off before he dozed off.

Carter was in his dreams. And he was naked, at distance, without a clue he was being watched. Ryan had stumbled upon him bathing in the creek while looking for Marcy who had vanished again. But anytime Ryan tried to get a glance, Marcy got in his way and blocked the view. Ryan woke up the next morning, cursing that damn horse.

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Captions are fictional. Part threeee.