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.
_________________________ 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.
_______________ 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.
___________________ Captions are fictional. Part threeee.
Wally stood on the driveway path and tucked his thumbs under his overalls. He was hesitant to get a houseboy at first. He just did not understand their need to serve. The idea of having someone bossing him around made his hackles raise. But his brother Bob had been insisting Wally needed some help around the farm for a while now; but ever since Wally broke his leg falling out of the hayloft, Bob had made it a zero-argument matter. Wally couldn’t be very mobile around the farm on crutches. Even on horse back, he still faced limitations as you use your legs to guide a horse. Once the cast came off, Wally still had to go to physical rehabilitation. Normalcy was a long way off. The ranch hands helped, but with every one of his own tasks taking longer, Wally had to admit that he needed someone to fill in the smaller tasks so he could focus on running his business.
In theory, it made sense although Wally still did not understand houseboys at all. They were sort of like a different species, kind of like hiring a man to be your wife. Wally wasn’t into women though so it looked smart on paper at least. But as Wally stood there taking in the sight of all the old furniture on the lawn, he was now more confused than ever. The houseboy emerged to drop off another chair. “Boy, what in tarnation as you doing?” He yelled as he slowly ambled toward the barn. The houseboy looked up at him. “Cleaning out your barn, Sir.” “I didn’t give you permission to do that!” “Well, no, but all that clutter up there is what caused your fall right? And some furniture was sort of blocking the stairs. It’s not safe. I want to make it safe for you Sir.”
Wally was dumbstruck. He couldn’t think of an answer, but remembered his manners. “Well – well uh. That’s mighty thoughtful of you.” The houseboy smiled. “It’s my pleasure, Sir.” Wally wished he had his pipe to chew on. “Well. I suppose it’s necessary. But where we going to put it all?” “If I may make a suggestion Sir?” “Go’on.” “It looks like a lot of this has been here a while. Some of it is rusted, broken. None of it matches.” Wally nodded. “My daddy was a bit of a collector you could say.” ”Well. You could get some money for some of this as scrap. Or sell some as it is. You have some old vintage oil cans in there that some antique collectors go nuts for.” “Really now?” “Really. Plus with this space cleared out, we could do a good barn clean out – sweep, remove the cobwebs, check for rot, check the supports. Get your beautiful old barn a new coat of paint.” Wally liked that idea. He thought the peeling paint was an eyesore. “Plus, um, I heard you talkin’ about getting another horse. You could probably use that money to buy one. But I’m not um, telling you how to use your finances. Of course.”
Wally licked his lip. “Well. You gotta good head on your shoulders. There’s a few things I want to keep. Pull everything out and we’ll go over it. Then make your calls.” The houseboy beamed. “I will Sir!” “And whatever we sell, you get 25% of it. Deal?” “Oh wow, thank you Sir! Thank you very much.”
Wally was startled by the brilliant look of total adoration on the boy’s face. The sun came out and the sweat on his pectorals and biceps glowed. It gave Wally an odd feeling in his gut. A feeling he rarely got familiar with, being alone in a rural area. A feeling he had forgot since his accident, since being on all the medication. Maybe it was cause the houseboy was shirtless and just in jeans and boots, but oh lordy, the feeling sure was coming on hard now. Wally swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “It’s only fair,” he managed. “I am gonna go get you something to drink. Be careful, boy.” “Yes sir, and thank you. Hydration would be great.” The houseboy nodded and got back to work.
Wally limped back to his house as fast as his busted, cast encased leg could take him. He collapsed into a rocking chair in the living room, sweating and heart racing. Wally reached into his overalls and found his penis. To his astonishment it was completely erect in his hand, and it was already leaking all over his underwear. The overalls created a tight, suffocating space, but there was no zipper in place. Wally debated unhooking the straps and shimmying of the one-piece, but he didn’t want to pull his hand away from his cock. It felt so good. Wally moaned as he stroked himself. The sensation made him dizzy and little dots flashed in front of his eyes. Oh, gods, it felt amazing. When was the last time he did this? Why did he stop? He closed his eyes and imagined that shirtless, sweaty houseboy and Wally’s balls just went off like shotgun blasts. He let out a gargle as his hand and thighs cramped to the point of pain and his vision flashed black for a moment. His penis began to fout and wouldn’t stop until Wally felt just utterly soaked. When Wally pulled his hand off, it was so sticky. He was shaking all over and Wally began to fear he had a heart attack. No. It was passing now. Wally let his hand rest on his heaving belly, mess and all, and he and drifted in and out of consciousness.
As the ferocious lust ebbed away, Wally felt an odd sort of calm and peace set in. He thought back to when he was stuck in that barn with a broken leg in searing agony, all alone, trying to ignore the realization that he might not be found for a while. It was a lonely feeling. The ache was almost worse than the pain. In reality, it had probably been no more than twenty minutes before one of the ranch hands pulled up in his truck after returning from errands, and Wally’s shouts reached him – but that wait felt like hours.
Wally didn’t want to die alone in a barn. He didn’t want to die alone at the end either. But mostly…he didn’t want to be alone period. He missed companionship. He missed affection. He missed sex. It was not enough to wait until the farm auctions in Forth Worth anymore for that special kind of intimacy that cowboys never talk about. It dawned upon Wally that maybe Bob had gotten him a houseboy for other reasons than making breakfast and arranging garage, er, barn sales. He sighed. Dammit, Bob was actually right about something for once in his life. He’d get all smug about it too.
Regardless, having that houseboy around was going to be a start of something new and fantastic. Especially if he remained shirtless.
Oh crap, Wally realized, he was supposed to bring some water out wasn’t he? Wally pulled out his hand from his overalls and gawked at the cum on it. “Jeee-zus!”
____________________________ Captions are fictional.
I just finished saying good-bye to the horses when I noticed Mack standing in the frame of the barn. My heart lept. He had been avoiding me the last few days, even since we had gone on that camping sleep over and made love under the stars. I think it was just too painful for him, counting down the days.
“Hey Mack,” I said, ogling his bare chest. I loved him shirtless. “Hey,” he said, fingering his waistband. “So you’re off?” “Yeah,” I replied. “Just about. It’s long drive to Casper, I’m staying overnight, and then catching a morning flight to Dallas.” Mack nodded. He knew all of this. “God it’s hot as fuck. We are going to have a great harvest this year because of it though. It’ll be weird without you.” I took off my hat, sticking it on a stall post so I could take off my shirt and wipe my face with it. I then put my hat back on. “I’ll try to come back and help out.”
“No,” Mack said firmly, putting his foot down and turning to face me. “…No?” I repeated, confused. “No. You go off to college and you enjoy yourself. You learn. I’m not booksmart like you. The world out there is too big for me. All I ever need to know I’ll learn from the land and the animals.” “Mack…” “But knowing about agriculture ain’t enough. I’ve heard of good farms going down cause of bad books. You get smart, and you come back, and take this farm over from Old Man Pritchard and run this farm right. You hear?” I nodded, a lump suddenly forming in my throat. “I will.” “And come back for Thanksgiving and Christmas ok? Or at least one?” When I heard the sorrow in Mack’s voice, I almost wanted to tell him I’d stay. I heard my own voice falter when I said – “I will.”
Mack shuffled in the thing. “And one other thing.” “Yes?” I whispered. He paused. “Shit.” He paused another moment and swallowed hard, scuffing up a storm of dust with his boots. I waited, heart pounding. “I want you to do whatever what you want at college. Because when you come back here in four years, you are going to be mine. Gay marriage will be legal by then, I’m sure of it. And I’m going to marry you proper. But when you’re at college, you live without limits. No regrets. Just…don’t forget about me. Ok?” I stared at Mack, shocked. My chest felt tight and my face hot. Not August-summer-hot, but like my-heart-was-pumping-in-overdrive-hot. It was all I had ever wanted, and something I’d never thought I’d hear him say; and now he was saying it, and I still had to leave. When I didn’t reply right away, Mack repeated again in a smaller voice. “Ok?” I nodded, my hands trembling. “Yes. Yes, ok. Yours.” Mack exhaled loudly and his shoulders relaxed. “Ok.” I watched his sculpted torso heave, and he turned away from me sharply. “Shit,” he muttered again, and I watched him move his arms in a way that indicated he was brushing tears away.
I had only seen Mack cry three times in my life. Once when he fell off a horse at age seven and broke his arm. The other time was having to put down one of the collies after a coyote got to her. The last was when his mother died. And now….I felt guilt swell up in me. I had put off college for two years after I finished high school. The nearest community college was over an hour away, and I had a short lived career in rodeo to fill the time anyway. With my winnings, I could finally afford to go to college. I got accepted to a program in Texas. I picked it cause I had rodeo friends in Texas. It was far from Wyoming. Mack had pushed me to go. I realized now that he had to have known what it meant, because he had to have been in love with me from that point. He was the strongest cowboy I had ever met. I knew there would be nobody in the entirety of Texas who would live up to how much I worshiped Mack.
I walked up to Mack and wrapped my arms around his waist. He was slick and sticky and dusty, but he smelled amazing. I buried my face in his neck and inhaled. My hat fell to the dust. Mack tensed, then wimpered. “Please…” “I will miss you like hell, John MacIntire.”
The dam broke, and we both started sobbing. He turned to face me and threw his arms around my neck. The horses snorted. I don’t know who saw us, and I didn’t look up to see cause I would have been mighty embarrassed. After a good cry, we both reached for our handkerchiefs at the same time and chuckled about it. I kissed him, right there in the yard. Mack kissed me back, and squeezed my ass. I couldn’t believe how forward he was being. It was like being in a wonderful, yet horrible dream. Mack hiccuped, then bent over to pick up my hat and brushed it off before handing it back to me. “Your dad’s probably waiting by the car. You outta get going. Long drive to Casper.” I nodded, putting it on my head. “Long boring drive. I’ll text you every step of the way ok?” Mack nodded. “Bye, Harlan.” I pulled away from him. He squeezed my hand, and then his rough and calloused hands fell away. “Bye Mack.”
I smiled, then took a few steps back, turned and walked away. I didn’t look back until the car was pulling down the long driveway. Mack was standing in the middle of the road, hand in his pockets, face shaded by his hat. He was scuffling up a storm.
