My Father, My Son
by: Tom Borden

© 2000-2008 by the author


The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...


Jeff told Paul that they needed to go back to the ranch, but that his dad did not explain anything. Jeff lay there in the dark staring at the ceiling and worrying about what had happened to make his dad so insistent. Paul lay next to him, kissing his neck and caressing his chest and arms.


"Go to sleep now, my dearest Jeff," whispered Paul. "I have the feeling you're going to need your sleep tomorrow. They said nothing more and both were soon sound asleep.


Chapter 8 


Late Friday afternoon, as Jeff, Paul, and Adriano were sitting down to dinner and ordering their first cocktails in Austin, a drama was about to unfold on the Walker Ranch. A late model Lincoln Town Car containing three men dressed in suits pulled up alongside the back verandah of the main house. While one man stayed behind the wheel, the other two walked up the steps to the kitchen door and knocked. Maggie answered the door and let the men in. A few minutes later, the door swung open, and the two men emerged, both holding on to Maggie, who was screaming and kicking fiercely. The two men were struggling wildly trying to control him.


Jake was standing near the bunkhouse and shouted to Enrique.


"Ricky run and git my rifle! Hurry!"


Ricky ran into Jake's room and tossed the rifle out the window to Jake. Several other ranch hands saw what was happening and ran to fetch their own rifles and pistols. When the driver of the Town Car saw all the men with their weapons, he started the car and began to drive away. Jake and one of the other men fired at the car and blew out a front and a rear tire. The car then veered sharply to the left and crashed into the corner of the verandah. One bullet apparently hit the radiator since steam was shooting out from under the hood. The driver jumped from the car and started running. It was several miles to the nearest road, but no one tried to stop him.


When the two intruders saw what was happening, they dragged Maggie back inside and handcuffed him to the handle on the oven door. They pulled their own pistols and shouted from the door that they wanted to talk to Michael Walker. Jake shouted back that Michael was in town and was not available. Walking toward the house, Jake could hear Maggie screaming inside.


"Unhook me from this oven, you beasts! Oh, my God, my heart! I'm going to have heart failure right here! I think I've already shit in my pants! How dare you come into my kitchen!"


One of the men stepped over to Maggie and slapped him across the face, and Maggie kicked him in the balls with his foot, provoking the man to slug Maggie almost senseless.


As Jake approached the verandah, the men stood at the door and shouted.


"Don't take another step closer or this fucking homo queer here will be dead."


One of the men quickly picked up the kitchen phone and dialed a number.


"Hey, the whole thing's gone wrong. These fucking cowboy homos they've got working out here pulled their fucking guns on us and shot out the tires before we could get away. We're now barricaded in the house. (Pause) Yeah, we've got him tied up here. He can't get away. But the trouble is none of us can get outta here now. (Pause) It turns out Michael ain't here. (Pause) So how can we negotiate anything? (Pause) Okay I'll call you back later."


Jake shouted, "Listen, you assholes, let the guy go and come on out here!"


"No way, old man, we need to talk to Michael Walker, and we're stayin' right here till he comes!"


"It ain't gonna do ya no fuckin' good. We got the house surrounded. Ya either walk outta there alive now or we gonna carry yer fuckin' corpses out riddled with bullets. Ya gotta clear choice."


Michael had been in Goliad buying some supplies and finally returned to the ranch, driving his jeep up along side the ruined Town Car.


Jumping out, Michael yelled, "What the hell's going on here?"


Jake explained, "There are two fuckin' shit-heads inside holding Maggie hostage. We got 'em covered, but they won't come out until they talk to you."


Michael walked within about five yards of the door and shouted, "I'm Michael Walker. What is it you want?


"We've got a gun to your son's head, and it's gonna stay there. We want five hundred thousand dollars in cash."


Michael looked at Jake. "What do they mean? Jeff's in Austin. He's not in there."


"Well, they must think they gotta hold of Jeff. They're in there holding Maggie."


Michael yelled back, "You're crazy! It's night time. I don't keep cash lying around like that! There's no way you're going to get that kind of money." Turning to Jake, he said, "Jake go on over to the barn and use the phone there and call the Sheriff's office and tell them to get out here fast."


One of the men yelled back, "Don't give us any of that shit! It's either the money or we blow your son's head off!"


Just then, Maggie could be heard shrieking hysterically.


The standoff continued until late into the night. Michael decided to call Jeff in Austin and tell him to come back to the ranch immediately. Jeff and Paul were lying in each other's arms, exhausted from the night's activities with Adriano when the call came. He told Michael that they would start back in the morning. But as he lay there, he became more and more worried and told Paul that he wanted to return immediately.


They arrived at the ranch at about one-thirty a.m. Michael was standing near the bunkhouse when Jeff ran up to him and asked him what was happening. Sheriff's deputies surrounded the house.


"Jeff, I'm so glad you're home," Michael began. "These two idiots took Maggie hostage and are demanding a half million dollars ransom, which is the most ridiculous thing they could possibly ask for. But the odd thing is that they think they are holding you hostage, Jeff."


Jake wandered around to the side of the house and could see clear into the kitchen through a dining room window. Maggie was still handcuffed to the oven door, and one of the men was standing by the back door with his pistol in his hand. The other man was seated at the kitchen table, about twelve feet away from Maggie. His pistol was lying on the corner of the table while he sipped on a can of soda. As quietly as possible, Jake raised the window. It caused a sudden draft through to the open back door, and both men looked in the direction of the window. But Jake had ducked out of sight and, since it was so dark outside, the men saw nothing and once again looked away. Jake estimated that the distance was about twenty-five feet between him and the man at the back door. He slowly raised his rifle and aimed very carefully. He fired one shot and the man standing at the back door fell to the floor. Then with Maggie screaming at the top of his lungs, Jake quickly took aim at the other man seated and fired once more. The man rose from his chair and then collapsed across the table.


Two deputies seized Jake by the arms and brought him over to the bunkhouse steps while the other deputies ran inside. Maggie was still screaming and pounding his chest and writhing around as though he were the one shot. The man who had been standing at the door lay dead on the kitchen floor. He had been hit in the neck, and his blood was forming a large dark pool beside him. The other man had been hit in the side and was still conscious.


Because of the seriousness of the stand-off, the Sheriff had ordered ambulances to stand by. The wounded man was transferred immediately to the Goliad Hospital, and the dead man was taken to be examined by the coroner.


As soon as the commotion started, Ellie, the housekeeper, flew into her room and, locking her door, remained there until morning. She had moved a large high-boy chest of drawers against the door in the fear that she might be drawn into the unpleasantness outside, whatever that might be.


Jake was finally led over to one of the deputy's cars and told to get into the back seat. He was told that they would be taking him down to the station for questioning in connection with the shooting that just occurred. Jake felt like he was in a dream, but he understood why he had to go. He felt strangely serene. As he climbed into the car, he suddenly felt Enrique's arms around his neck. Without really knowing what he was doing, he put his arms around Enrique and kissed him on the lips.


"Ricky, don't cry. Try to be happy. Everyone's safe now. That's all the fuck that matters now. Go back and get in bed; I'll be there in a little while."


Jake did not return that night. He spent the rest of the night in a cell, as well as the whole next day being questioned about the shooting. Jake couldn't understand why he was being treated like this since he was the one who stepped forward and ended the stand-off. Michael and Jeff both waited in another room, not being permitted to see Jake until that night. By the end of the day, the news came that Jake was being held for second degree murder and would be held in the county jail until bond could be posted. Bail was set at one hundred thousand dollars.


Furious, both Michael and Jeff went to the hospital to visit the surviving gunman. Again, they were not permitted into the room since the sheriff's deputies were already there questioning the man. It turned out to be a two-hour wait in the waiting room down the hall. Michael finally said he needed to pee and went to the public restroom on that floor. Jeff followed him. As they stood at adjacent urinals, Jeff looked over lovingly at his father.


"Dad, I was so scared last night all the way home that something had happened to you. You sounded so strange on the phone. I don't think I could stand it if anything ever happened to you. You could have gotten shot."


As they zipped up, Michael took hold of Jeff's shoulders and kissed him very tenderly on the lips several times.


"Jeff, no man could have a son as thoughtful as you." Michael's hand dropped down and gently caressed the bulge in Jeff's pants. "This is the first time since the stand-off began that I've been alone with you. I want so badly to feel your young skin on my lips right now. C'mon, Jeff, step in here in this stall with me for just a minute."


As soon as they were in the stall, Michael undid Jeff's belt and lowered his pants to the floor and told him to sit on the toilet. Then Michael got on his knees and began to run his tongue lightly along the soft hair on Jeff's inner thighs. Then, fondling Jeff's balls with one hand, Michael lowered his mouth onto his son's gorged penis and began to suck very slowly. Just then the restroom door opened and someone went into a stall two stalls away. It soon became apparent that there were two people in that stall.


One could be heard saying, "I've wanted to fuck you ever since the day you came into the emergency room for treatment. Oh, God, lean over and let me smell that beautiful asshole of yours! While you were unconscious, you never knew how many times I finger-fucked you."


Another voice said, "Come on doc, get your cock out and fuck me really hard."


There was a good deal of groaning and grunting. Michael and Jeff were so hot listening to this. Michael was sucking Jeff faster and faster and was jacking himself off at the same time. From the other stall came two very loud yelps and several deep groans from both of its occupants. Just then, both Michael and Jeff blew their loads at the same time. It was the first time Michael had ever experienced such perfect coordination. At the same time his son's sperm was flooding into his mouth, Michael was experiencing his own powerful orgasm. It was divine ecstasy like he had never before in his life felt. Neither father nor son held back on their loud groans. Then they could hear a voice from the other stall.


"I guess someone else got fucked in here."


Michael opened the door to the stall just a crack as the two intruders departed, enough to see that one of the participants had on a long physician's coat. Both Michael and Jeff stood still for a moment, trying to catch their breaths. Jeff's sperm had been savored and swallowed by his father, and Michael's sperm lay in a puddle on the floor in front of the toilet.


As they returned to the wounded gunman's room, two Sheriff's deputies were just coming out.


"Mr. Walker, we need to tell you that we are going to arrest your brother, Jared Walker, and bring him in for questioning."


Michael's mouth dropped open. "What in the world for? What has he done now?"


"Well, Mr. Walker, we don't normally discuss these things, but since he is your brother and since you and your son were the intended victims, you probably should know. After talking with the surviving gunman, we believe that Jared Walker may be the instigator of a conspiracy to kidnap your son and have him held for ransom."


"My God," sighed Michael. "Are there no limits to this man's hate and malevolence against me? Ever since Ol' Ben's death, his mind has become insidiously corrupt. He is determined to take out his revenge against his father on Jeff and me."


Turning to one of the deputies, Michael inquired, "When you bring him in, will I be allowed to talk to him?"


"Yes, sir, but only after we have finished our interrogation and have determined whether or not to hold him."


Several days later, Michael learned that the evidence seemed irrefutable that Jared was behind the conspiracy to kidnap Jeff at gunpoint for the purpose of extorting money from Michael. The case would be going to a federal grand jury in San Antonio in about a month. In the meantime, Jared was being held without bail.


Michael was now free to visit Jared for the first time since the nasty business had occurred. He confronted Michael angrily.


"Jared, what would our mother and father think if they could see what a despicable and spiteful person you have become? To think that you would put your own nephew, Jeff, in a situation where he might be shot to death is an act that is almost unbearable for me to think about. I never knew that you could hate so deeply. I loathe you for the shame you have brought on this family and the reckless way you have sought to carry out your greedy revenge."


Smiling smugly, Jared responded. "Michael, let me ask you something. Did you know that the old man was going to leave me nothing from his estate?"


Michael shook his head.


"Can you think of any reason why he would want to show such scorn for me by totally disinheriting me?"




"I'm that old man's oldest son. I have a natural right to at least a part of his estate. And you, yourself, have rebuffed me, derided me, treated me with nothing but disdain, with absolutely no understanding of my need and desire to retain a part of my family's legacy. You've allowed me nothing. Nothing! I've not been given a kerchief, a boot, a hat, a watch, nothing that once belonged to my father. You've kept everything of any value, sentimental or otherwise, that ever belonged to him or our mother, and I have nothing. You've kept everything from me."


The smile had left Jared's face and tears filled his eyes. "Michael, I've made mistakes. I admit that. And you'll now be glad to know that I will probably spend the rest of my life in prison."


Michael couldn't find the words to respond. When he attempted to say something, Jared held up his hand and simply said with a bitter tone in his voice, "Thanks for nothing, Michael. Next time you come, bring me a cake with a file in it. And make sure it is a file from my dad's old tool chest. That way I'll have something to remember my family by."


Jared signaled for the guard to take him back to his cell.


Meanwhile, the prosecutor's office determined that Jake's actions at the stand-off were taken in an effort to protect the life of a person held captive at gunpoint and that charges of murder could not be supported in a court of law. Therefore, all charges were dropped.


When Jake heard the news, he picked up his bagpipe and played a tune. The other men on the ranch hated the sound of it, but made no objection in view of Jake's misfortunes over the past few months. Michael was truly grateful to Jake for his actions on the night of the standoff and wanted to do something special for him.


Calling Jake up to sit with him on the verandah, Michael told him how much he appreciated what he had done.


"Jake, you have always been a part of the Walker family since I can remember. You've been a friend to me and to Jeff and to Enrique, and just everyone. There couldn't be anyone more loyal than you are, and more protective of all of us. Just as a small token of my personal appreciation for you and for what you do, I'd like to turn over my little house up there in the Cottonwoods to you for a week or longer if you'd like. There's television there, a wet-bar stocked with all sorts of liquor and beer, and I guarantee you the best bed you've ever slept in. And, remember, you can play your bagpipe up there and not worry about what the other guys think. How about it, Jake?"


Jake looked a little embarrassed that this kind of attention was being given to him. "Shit, Michael, I don't deserve no special stuff like that." Then after a short pause, "You got some real Jack Daniels up there?"


"Yeah, Jake, I'll put anything up there you'd like."


Looking down at the floor and smiling, Jake said, "This is sure nice of you, Michael. Do you think Ricky could come and stay with me, too? He's had a pretty bad time with that fuckin' abduction and all that shit."


"Why not, Jake. You both deserve it. Since I can't relieve you completely of your foreman's duties, and since the little house is so far away, I'll let you have the jeep up there, too, so you can get back and forth quickly."


They both stood up, and Michael threw his arms around Jake in a big hug.


Jake went back to the bunkhouse where Enrique was sitting on the step outside Jake's room. He told Enrique about Michael's offer to stay for awhile up at his little house on the knoll. Enrique flashed a big smile, but then leaned his head against Jake's arm and became silent.


"Hey, you little fucker, whatsa matter?"


Enrique looked at Jake and said, "There's something I have to tell you. And I've been afraid to. Remember when I was in that foster home? Well, there was that awful man there who wanted to hurt me and I ran out and got away from him. Remember that?" Jake nodded. "Well when I tried to get away from him, he grabbed my gold chain you gave me and tore it off my neck."


Enrique started to cry. "I couldn't get it back and I just ran out of the house. I'm so sorry, Jake. It was my fault."


Jake put his arm around Enrique's shoulder and pulled him close. "No, no, it wasn't yer fault. Don't blame yerself. Maybe we can git it back. Do you know where their house was?"


Enrique had no idea where his foster family's house was. Jake went to ask Michael for the address of the house and for the use of the jeep. He told Michael that he and Enrique had some business in town and would be back shortly.


When they arrived at the house, they both went to the door and rang the doorbell. The woman who answered the door stood with her mouth open at the sight of Enrique.


"I've already told the authorities," she blurted, "that I will not have that kid back in the house. He was a monster and tried to hurt my son."


Jake said, "Lady, we want to see yer son, Butch, if ya don't mind."


The lady started to say no, but Enrique pointed past her and told Jake that Butch was standing there in the hallway. Jake pushed the old woman aside and went in. Butch backed up against the wall.


Jake looked at Butch and saw the glint of the gold chain there around his neck. "You shit head. You can hand over the fuckin' chain ya stole from my little buddy here."


Butch said, "Git away from me. I don't know what yer talkin' about."


At that, Jake took hold of Butch's shirt, one hand on each side of the colar, and with one huge lunge, ripped the entire shirt off of Butch's body.


"Now take that fuckin' chain off, and be real careful. Don't break the clasp. Be careful with those fat, ugly fingers. I'll break 'em off one by one if you break that clasp."


After the chain was safely tucked away in Jake's pocket, he turned to the old woman and said, "If you have anymore foster children in this fuckin' house, make sure that fuckin' tub o' lard you call a son keeps his fuckin' cock in his pants. Yer fuckin' lucky I don't report ya to the aw-thorities. In fact, I think I will!"


When they were back in the jeep, Jake put the chain around Enrique's neck. Then he leaned over and kissed Enrique on the lips. While he was doing that, he could see the old lady watching them through the lace curtains on the front window. Jake kept his lips on Enrique's and greeted her with sticking up his middle finger.


Paul and Jeff had several times gotten together for a few beers at a tavern on the highway near the ranch, but had not had an opportunity to enjoy a whole night together since their short stay in Austin. Adriano called Paul one day and informed him that his father was coming to the United States the following week for a visit. He lived in Florence, Italy, and this would be his first visit to America. Adriano was hopeful that he could bring his father down one day to the ranch since he had been particularly interested in seeing first-hand the romantic life of the cowboy that he had seen portrayed in American movies. Paul told Adriano to warn his father that the "romantic life of the cowboy" was strictly a Hollywood invention.


Paul arranged with Michael and Jeff that Adriano would bring his father down to the ranch the following Friday evening and both would stay over through Sunday, when they would return to Austin in time for Adriano to get back to work again on Monday morning.


On their first day at Michael's Retreat on the knoll, Jake and Enrique sat out on the wide west porch looking out on a rapidly developing sunset over the range. Jake had a glass of Jack Daniels clutched in his hand, and Enrique sat on the edge of the porch with his legs dangling over the side.


"Ricky, I could get used to this life pretty fuckin' fast. Good fuckin' whiskey, a comfortable fuckin' rockin' chair, and my best little buddy in the world with me. I'd git up and play the bagpipe fer ya, but I'm too fuckin' comfortable. Maybe tomorrow."


They both sat silently for a little while watching the deep reds and purples and oranges swirling in the sky to the west as the sun approached the horizon. "Hey, ya little fucker, ya know we gotta git you back with your tutors so you can keep up with yer learnin'."


"Aw, Jake, I don't want to go back there."


"Don't matter, Ricky. Paul said he'll be drivin' ya into town every mornin' startin' next week. I wanna see you go to college someday. You know Paul's been to college. I don't want to see you stuck here like me all yer life. Just a ranch bum. Maybe you can become a lawyer or a rich banker. Wouldn't ya like that? But ya can't do nothin' like that if you don't git yer education. I got no education, and look what I am. I'm nothin', Ricky. Before I die, I'm gonna see you graduate from college."


Getting up and walking over to stand next to Jake's chair, Enrique said, "Jake, what do you mean you're nothing? You're the best person I ever known. You know everything about everything."


"Ricky, sit up here on my lap and we'll rock here together."


Enrique sat on Jake's lap and laid his head on his chest.


"Ricky, promise me you'll study hard so you can go to college."


"I promise, Jake, I promise."


Jake and Enrique sat quietly and rocked gently watching the blazing sky as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon. With his arm around Enrique's waist and holding his whisky glass in the other hand, Jake leaned his cheek over onto the top of Enrique's head. He thought that if there were a God, he was God's favorite human being at that moment. Could any man be so blessed as he was? He could feel Enrique's warm breath on his chest. And soon, he realized that Enrique had fallen asleep. Putting his drink down on the floor, he carried Enrique inside and put him gently down on what was once Ol' Ben's King-sized bed.


Jake got his glass and filled it up again with Jack Daniels and ice and sat down on the bed looking at Enrique lying there sleeping so peacefully. Enrique's long black eyelashes seemed to beckon Jake, as they always did, and he leaned over and kissed Enrique's eyes over and over again. The feel of Enrique's eyelashes tickling his lips made Jake feel so excited. He looked at Enrique's face and brushed his lips across his cheeks—those beautiful brown velvet cheeks.


Jake finished his whiskey and put his head down on the pillow next to Enrique's head and traced the outline of Enrique's ear with the tip of his tongue. That woke Enrique up, who looked over at Jake and smiled.


"Come on, get in bed, Jake. I want to lie close to you."


They both removed their clothes and pulled the covers back and laid down on their sides facing each other. Enrique pressed his face into Jake's thick black chest hair while reaching down with one hand and running his fingers through Jake's large bush of pubic hair.


"I love your hair, Jake. And I love all the hair on your balls and in around your asshole. I wish I had lots of hair for you to suck on. But, see, I'm getting some growing down there."


Enrique took Jake's hand and placed it on the large amount of pubic hair that was growing just above his penis. Jake's hand then brushed against Enrique's penis, and Enrique groaned with the pleasure of Jake's touch. Jake marveled at how much larger Enrique's erect penis had gotten in just the past year.


Jake moved his head down and tickled Enrique's nipples with his tongue, which made Enrique's penis start bobbing around uncontrollably. His mouth had soon moved down to Enrique's throbbing penis, which he sucked into his mouth with a slurp that sounded like someone sucking in their spaghetti at the dinner table. He soon brought his tongue down lower and sucked Enrique's ball sack into his mouth. Jake then raised Enrique's legs high in the air and forced his tongue into Enrique's red puckered hole, past the sphincter muscle, which opened up with no trouble, and into the cavity of Enrique's rectum.


Enrique was bucking his hips and groaning loudly.


"Jake, please let me see your hole now."


Jake lay on his back and raised his legs as high as he could. Enrique brought his tongue down into the thick mat of hair that filled Jake's ass crack and worked it through until he reached the asshole. Enrique felt with his tongue that Jake's asshole was hot and sweaty and contracting wildly in anticipation of Enrique's tongue. Enrique pushed, but was unable to get his tongue past the pucker.


"Jake, I want to stick my cock into your asshole. I've never fucked anyone before, but I want to stick my cock inside of you. Please!"


Jake had always done the fucking. He had fucked many women in his day and, in recent years, he had fucked Joseph in the showers many times. But he had never gotten fucked himself. And he knew that Enrique had never fucked anybody before.


"Sure, Ricky, if ya want to. I saw some Vaseline in the medicine cabinet. Go git it. We can't do it without some grease."


When Enrique returned with the jar, Jake said, "Now take a whole lot of that shit in yer fingers and slather it on both my asshole and all over your dick."


When Enrique was applying it to Jake's asshole, he pushed several fingers inside, which made Jake jump.


"Okay, Ricky, lower yourself very slowly down on me and get yer cock in my ass crack and push really slowly."


Enrique's penis felt to him to be harder and bigger than he had ever felt it. When he felt the tip of his penis touching Jake's asshole, he started pushing. Jake started to tense up. He had never had anyone's cock up his ass before. Enrique pushed and pushed, but couldn't penetrate. Jake realized that he had to relax or Enrique would never be able to get in. Soon, the head of Enrique's penis popped in through Jake's asshole and into his rectum. Jake let out a short yell of pain, but told Enrique to keep pushing slowly. When Enrique's whole shaft was in, Jake told him to hold still and not move for a few moments until he could relax a little more.


When Jake said to continue, Enrique started pumping very slowly. But soon, Jake told him to go faster and that it was feeling so good. Enrique had never felt the sensation of his penis in someone's asshole and thought it was so much better than jacking off or having it sucked.


"Okay, Ricky, pump harder. Harder, ya little fucker! Keep goin'. It feels so good. Pound the shit out of me, Ricky! Harder! Harder! Oh, God, I love ya, ya little fucker! Fuck my ass hard! Pound those hips into me! Pound me! Pound me! Fuck me, fuck me, Ricky, fuck the shit out of my ass! Harder! Harder!


Jake had both of Enrique's ass cheeks squeezed in his hands and pulling him down to him as hard as he could. Then with one hand, he started jacking himself off.


Enrique shouted, "Oh, Jake, I'm gonna shoot my cum into your asshole. I'm coming, I'm coming! I'm coming!


"Let it blast, Ricky. Fill up my body with yer fuckin' sperm. Gimme every fuckin' thing you got, Ricky! Shoot it all the way through me!"


Enrique began to stiffen all his muscles and could feel the hot burning sperm shooting up from his balls up the whole length of his penis and out into Jake's rectum. He shouted, Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, as stream after stream of his sperm shot through him. Jake could feel every shot of hot sperm as it hit the walls of his rectum.


Jake shouted out, "My God, my God, keep coming, keep coming, Ricky!" At that moment Jake let out a deep growling groan and shot his own load, rope after rope of thick white sperm into his chest hair.


Soon, Enrique collapsed on top of Jake, his penis slowly deflating and slipping out of Jake's asshole. As he laid his head on Jake's chest, he licked up Jake's sperm from his chest hair. As they lay there, they both soon fell asleep in each other's arms.


After one week of living in luxury in Michael's retreat in the Cottonwoods, Jake decided to move back to his room in the bunkhouse. It had been a wonderful week, but there was much work to be done at the ranch, and Jake found it far more convenient for him to do his supervisory work living closer to the men.


Michael and Jeff decided to have Adriano and his father stay at Michael's retreat during their visit. The view of the rangeland was spectacular and it would give Adriano's father a good idea of America's so-called "wide-open spaces" that are so legendary in the minds of foreigners with pre-conceived romantic ideas of the American West.


Late Friday afternoon, Adriano Cinella and his father, Mario, arrived on the ranch for their weekend visit. Michael and Jeff greeted them and led them up to the verandah where Maggie had spread out a variety of liquors and mixers and a large tray of Mexican hors d'oeuvres. Joseph was standing by, as he always did when visitors arrived. He had always made it a practice to drop his pants when there were new faces around and would offer his asshole for anyone who would like to fuck him. It was his strange, twisted way of being hospitable. He had finally been trained, however, not to drop his pants unless specifically requested to do so. But he was always there on hand in case the request would come.


Michael instructed Joseph to take Adriano's and Mario's luggage up to the retreat in the Cottonwoods. The guests would be brought up there later.


Michael extended his hand to Mario Cinella and said, "Welcome Mr. Cinella to the Walker Ranch."


Mario smiled and said, "Buonasera signore. Come ti chiami?"


Adriano translated that his father was asking Michael's name.


"My name is Michael Walker, and this is my son, Jeff."


Shaking hands with them, Mario said merely, "Piacere."


"Dad, please try to speak English," said Adriano. "You know enough English and this will be a good chance for you to practice it."


While Michael, Jeff, and Adriano had Scotch on the rocks, Mario chose to have wine—California Red. Michael pointed out the various outbuildings in sight—the cow barn, the horse stables, the chicken coop, the sties where swine were housed, the machinery shed, the wood shed, bunkhouse, bathhouse, feed cribs and silos.


Mario then asked where were the cowboys. Michael responded, "Most of our workers are called just ranch hands. Cowboys are those men on horseback who are out on the range tending the herd. Traditionally, the cowboys were those men who used to drive the herd over many miles to market. Sometimes they were out on the range for weeks or months on a single cattle drive. They would live, eat, and sleep out on the range."


Mario interrupted with, "And that's when they would sit around the fire at night and sing songs, no?"


Michael and Jeff chuckled and Michael said, "Well, Mario, that's what they do for sure in the movies, but usually when they would stop for the night, their time was taken up with making repairs to their gear and sleeping. And then there were those who took turns all night keeping an eye on the herd so they didn't wander. Many years ago, there was also the danger of cattle rustlers intruding in the middle of the night."


Mario asked, "How about the chuck wagon with the jolly cook and the good food?"


"Well, to tell you the truth, Mario, food was never very good, and the coffee was so strong usually that it would take the top of your head off. There was always a lot of whiskey out there on the trail. But these were extraordinarily tough guys. They could get drunk at night and then be perfectly fit to ride all day the next day. But we don't have those big long cattle drives anymore. Our cattle are loaded onto trucks or rail cars for shipment to the slaughter houses. The cattle we have on this ranch graze as they always had, but they don't have to roam so far to find good grazing land. Most of their food is commercial feed and they eat it from large feed cribs on various parts of the ranch."


Just then, Paul came ambling up to the verandah, purposely swaggering like a movie cowboy and wearing a classic cowboy hat and a big red kerchief around his neck. His jacket was tan suede dripping with leather fringe. He had even donned a pair of chaps, which are rarely worn anymore. His boots were a pair of dress cowboy boots that he would wear only when he went to the dance hall in Goliad. They were black with white trim and had inch and a half heals and a pointed toe. As Paul had hoped, Mario was very impressed, and jumped to his feet, clapping his hands.


"Look, there's a real cowboy!" shouted Mario.


Everyone laughed good naturedly. Michael introduced Paul as a good friend of both Jeff and Adriano. Mario couldn't take his eyes off of Paul. To meet a real cowboy in person was alone almost worth the long trip from Italy. Adriano was clearly delighted that Paul had dressed up for his father. He reached over and patted Paul on the thigh and said, "Nice work, Paul."


Soon, Maggie announced that dinner was ready in the dining room. The chandelier in that room was made of a huge oak cart wheel with what looked like eight kerosene lanterns spaced around it. Many years ago the lanterns were converted to electricity. But Mario was fascinated with such an unusual looking and rough-hewn structure hanging over the table. Maggie had fixed fried chicken, Texas style, with red and green peppers and onions, and also fried okra on the side. For desert, he served Mexican peppermint ice cream and Mexican coffee with milk.


After dinner, Jeff announced that he and Adriano and Paul were going into Goliad to one of the Country-Western dance halls to drink beer for the evening. Michael and Mario took their coffee and moved back out on the porch where there was a nice cool breeze blowing off the range. Mario continued to ask Michael questions about life on the ranch and about the Walker family. He also told about his life in Italy. The family for many generations lived in Tuscany near Florence. It was a family of shoe makers, a trade that never seemed to suffer hard times, even during the big war. Adriano, though, had always had an extraordinary love for animals and wanted more than anything to go into animal husbandry. The family was well-off and was able to send Adriano to America for his schooling. Mario and his father, Enrico Cinella, were the last in the family to practice the art of shoe making. Mario was never sad about this, though, because he was happy that his son, Adriano, was the first in the family to see America and take advantage of its opportunities.


It was getting late, and since Michael and Mario had started back on the Scotch and the red wine, they were both getting sleepy. Mario said he had better get to sleep so that he would be fresh in the morning for the grand tour of all four corners of the ranch.


Michael drove Mario in the jeep up to his retreat in the Cottonwoods. Mario was very impressed with the house and the coziness of it. Michael showed him where everything was—the shower, the heater, if he needed it, the linen closet full of towels, the refrigerator full of snacks, and the liquor cabinet. When Michael walked out and reached the jeep, Mario called to him.


"Michael, could you stay just a little while longer. I saw the liquor in the cabinet, and I think I would really like just one more drink. Perhaps we could just sit out here on this lovely porch."


"Mario," Michael said, "I was thinking about suggesting that, but I knew that you really wanted to get your sleep tonight."


Michael fixed his Scotch on the rocks, and Mario poured a nice tall glass of wine. Sitting out on the porch, Michael looked at Mario, whose features were beautifully highlighted by a very bright moon. Mario was only forty-seven, but his lean, chiseled Italian features made him look no older than thirty. He had a gentle curve to his nose with full, sensuous lips. His hands were thin and delicate looking, very much like Adriano's. His black hair was full and slightly curly, curling down over his collar in the back.


Still looking intently off into the distance, Mario said slowly, "Michael, this has been a wonderful evening. I want to tell you how much I have enjoyed meeting you."


"Mario, the same goes for me. You're a great guy and I've loved talking with you. I think I could just sit here and drink and talk to you all night."


Mario looked over at Michael and looked into his eyes very intently, and reached over and put his hand on Michael's hand that was resting on the arm of the chair. Mario then looked away into the distance and remained silent for several minutes. Then, still looking out over the range, he spoke very quietly.


"Michael." He paused with his mouth partly open as though there were more words there to come out. "Michael." Then there was another long pause, and still looking into the distance with his hand on Michael's, he said almost inaudibly. "Michael. Would you stay here with me for a little while tonight?"


Michael could feel Mario's hand shaking almost uncontrollably, and his heart jumped. This beautiful and sensuous looking Italian man was asking him to stay awhile with him. He stammered, "Of course, Mario."


Mario looked at Michael with longing in his eyes and said softly, "Do you really want to?"


Michael turned in his chair and squeezed Mario's shaking hand. "Mario, I really, really want to. Should we go in? I'm beginning to shiver a little out here."


Still holding tightly onto each other's hand, Michael and Mario went inside. They stood facing each other, and Mario reached up and ran his hand over Michael's cheek very lightly as they both leaned forward and kissed each other very softly on the lips. Neither one spoke. They continued to look into each other's eyes as they slowly undid each others shirts. Then the belts and the trousers and the shoes, and soon, with their clothes lying in heaps on the floor, they were lying on the big bed, naked and in each other's arms kissing deeply and passionately.


Mario finally spoke. "Michael, the very moment I met you, I couldn't believe it. When you shook hands with me with your very strong hand, I thought you were going to crush mine, but somehow I wanted you crush my hand with yours. I looked into your beautiful blue eyes that have this very erotic slant upward to the outside, your full lips that I have wanted to touch or to kiss all evening. I'm sorry, Michael, I can't help myself."


Michael rolled on top of Mario and slowly brought his tongue down over his lusciously dark Mediterranean skin, while Mario ran his fingers through Michael's blond hair. Mario's penis was fully gorged. It seemed exceptionally long, but was very thin with a very wide head. Mario had a very light mat of black chest hair and a very large bush of pubic hair that covered practically his entire abdomen up to his navel.


"Michael, I'm very sensitive and I cum very soon when my penis is touched. Would you come up and sit on my face, or lower your ass down onto my face?"


Michael straddled Mario's body and lowered himself slowly down on his face. Mario lightly tickled the whole area in Michael's crotch with his tongue. He ran his tongue lightly over Michaels balls, the shaft between his balls and his asshole, around his asshole, on his ass cheeks and around the inside of his upper thighs. Michael had never had as erotic and sensuous feeling in his life. Mario's tongue flitted quickly and very lightly over every surface, driving Michael crazy. As he leaned over and took Mario's penis in his mouth, Mario slowly pushed his tongue into Michael's asshole, past the sphincter muscle and deep into his rectum.


Mario cried out for Michael to stop sucking because he was very close to cumming. Michael turned around and threw Mario's legs in the air and looked at his asshole. It was pink and beautiful, framed by the dark skin of Mario's ass crack and his thighs. Michael slowly lowered his lips into Mario's ass crack and flicked his tongue around the little puckered hole. He pulled back for a minute and could watch Mario's hole contracting wildly, as though beckoning for something to enter. He once again ran his tongue over the hole and slowly forced it in. The hole seemed to open up by itself and Michael's tongue slipped easily deep into the rectum.


Michael was now very eager to shoot his load. He straddled Mario's body again, this time facing his head, and plunged his gorged penis into Mario's mouth. Mario took it all the way to the pelvic bone, swirling his tongue like Michael had never experienced before. As soon as he felt an orgasm building, he pulled out and told Mario he wanted to fuck him in the ass.


"Yes, yes, Michael, I want to get fucked. Fuck me really hard!


Michael threw Mario's legs up once again and propping himself up by his arms, watched his hard penis slip effortlessly into Mario's asshole. Michael thought that this was an asshole that has seen many, many big cocks.


"Michael, fuck me hard. Pump harder. Faster, faster!" Mario began to fling his little narrow hips around wildly.


Michael shouted, "God, this feels good. I'm gonna shoot my hot sperm all the way up through your little body into your throat! Keep throwing those hips around, Mario. Faster, faster! I'm gonna fuck you till you split wide open!


Mario yelled out, "Keep fucking me harder! Pound my asshole hard! Pound it, pound it! Push that cock hard into my body! Harder!"


Mario started to jack himself off while Michael fucked him.


At that moment, Jeff and Paul drove up to deliver Adriano after their night of drinking. They could hear shouting from inside. The bathroom light was on and it allowed the three young men to see what was happening inside through the large window in the front.


Adriano's mouth dropped open. "My God, that's my dad! And that's your dad, too, Jeff! My God, what are they doing!


Michael and Mario were not aware of their audience, and were still shouting and engrossed in their sexual frenzy.


"Fuck me harder, Michael! Pound my ass harder! Hammer that cock into my ass!"


"Mario, I'm gonna fuck your ass off!"


"Michael, I'm coming, I'm coming! Keep fucking me hard, Michael!


Michael could feel the rush of sperm shooting from his balls up through his long shaft and shooting stream after stream of hot cum into Mario's rectum. "Oooooo God, Mario, Ooooo, Ooooo, Ooooo!"


Jeff, Paul, and Adriano watched as Mario screamed, "Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah," at the top of his lungs and shot long ribbons of hot white sperm onto his chest and chin.


Adriano stood shocked and stunned. Tears were in his eyes and he felt his knees buckling. Paul helped him to a chair. Adriano covered his face with his hands, while Jeff and Paul stood next to each other, with their hands down the back of each other's trousers, squeezing each others buns and smiling delightedly at the sight of the two collapsed fathers lying wilted on the bed.


To be continued...


Posted: 08/22/08