Date: Tue, 14 Jul 2009 21:39:05 -0700 (PDT) From: thinsmooth <email@example.com> Subject: Ranch Boys 4 From part 3 Henry sat in front with his father, leaving the back of the king cab to Nicky and me. The brothers chattered happily on the way back to town. I listened incomprehensively as the boys answered their father's questions in their own language. I'd never heard him speak in English. After my first ride in their truck, Henry had told me his dad wasn't very fluent, and was shy about using English. So I wasn't expecting it when he turned his head briefly to address the back seat, and said, "Danny, you work hard for my sons. You help Henry with homework. You good friend." The boys froze in their seats, staring at their dad. Then each of them turned their heads to me, smiles spreading across their surprised expressions. I just blushed and said, "Thank you, sir. Mr. C (I'll call him) had turned his eyes back to the road, but he looked up at me in the rear-view mirror, and continued. "Boys have to chop firewoods for grandma next Saturday, at sheep camp in mountains. You go with them?" "Well, I haven't chopped much wood before, but sure, I'll be glad to help out." Nicky and Henry both gave me high-fives, and beamed as they spoke to their dad in their language. They were still talking when they drove away, after they'd dropped me off at home. It wasn't even 10 a.m., and I was already anticipating the first of several jack-offs I would enjoy before I fell asleep that night. Part 4 By the time Henry arrived for the next study session, two days later, I'd come a dozen times reliving events at the ranch. But my mother is nosy, and I was paranoid about being caught at home. Therefore, Henry and I couldn't pick up where we left off, with his cock in my ass. The best we could manage was a mutual feel- up, but I was always worried that my Mom would walk in to "bring cookies", or any of her other excuses. Still, we enjoyed ourselves. I don't think we turned a page in the text book, though. The first night, my hand brought him to a climax, and he left for home trying to cover the wet spot his dick made on the front of his jeans. The second night, I violated my own self-imposed limits, and opened his belt buckle. Henry was wearing a rodeo buckle on tight jeans, and a plain white t-shirt that stretched tightly across his chest, glowing against his exposed biceps. As soon as the buckle was loose I opened the front of Henry's pants, and reached into his white briefs. I realized that my cock-hunger was overcoming my normally good judgment, and I didn't care. But a noise in the hallway forced me to stop my advance on Henry's open jeans. He zipped up, and we didn't try any nasty play again before he went home. At sunrise Saturday morning, I was more than ready when Mr. C's pickup truck pulled into the driveway. Henry was already in the front seat, so I joined Nicky in the back. In the shadows of the rear cab, Nicky's hand found my left knee. His fingers skittered up to my crotch, and clamped down for several seconds. My dick hardened under his hand, while I watched the mirror for fear his dad would see us. In the growing light, the open space between the front bucket seats made it too dangerous for Nicky to leave his hand on my dick, and he withdrew after a few minutes. I relaxed my attention on the mirror. The road began to ascend toward the Continental Divide. Mr. C turned off before the summit, and continued on a rutted dirt road, into the trees. After about 20 minutes, I could see that we were approaching a small house, framed on either side by corrals, full of sheep. "Stay in the truck" was all Mr. C said, before climbing out and shutting the door behind him. Henry turned from the front seat, to face me. "Grandma doesn't speak English, Danny, but if she talks to you, just be yourself." He gripped my shoulder with his left hand, and smiled. I was almost lost in that smile, until I felt Nicholas' hand on my other shoulder. I think I blushed again. A minute after entering the house, their dad emerged to beckon us inside. I was the last to enter through the wooden, screened door. As my eyes adjusted to the low light, I saw that I was in a kitchen. By this time my nose had also picked up the smell of cooking meat. In the middle of the room was a thin, very elderly woman wearing glasses, her white hair covered with a scarf. She was busy hugging her grandsons when I entered, but let Nicky go when she saw me. She waved her hand wordlessly, in a motion to beckon me closer. After I stepped over to her, she raised her hand to the side of my face, and laid her palm on my cheek. At the same time, she said something in their language and smiled at me. "My mother doesn't trust white people, but she says she can see that your heart is true, and she says you are welcome here." I didn't know what to say, except "Thank you, ma'am" Normally, I don't like being laughed at, but when the boys, their dad, and their grandma started laughing at me, I knew it was because my face must have turned bright red. That's always been my curse. I smiled like a fool, and soon their attention turned to affairs of the day. Although they didn't speak in English, I could tell they were discussing the job we were there for. Within a few minutes, we jumped back in the truck, and continued along the rutted dirt road that wound higher up the mountain. About a quarter mile past the house, Mr. C stopped the truck and pointed to a stand of oak. After we unloaded the chainsaw, water jug, and 2 axes, Mr. C left in the truck. "Come with us Danny.", was all Henry said, before he started into the woods, with Nicky close behind him. When he stopped, he turned and addressed us both in English. We'll use the chain saw here. We brought the axes just in case. We'll pick one tree, cut it down, trim and section it with the saw, then wait for dad to bring the truck so we can haul the wood back to the house. He'll be back when he finishes fixing the gate on the sheep pen. Nicky and I looked around, while Henry selected a tree. He chased us away from proximity to an oak about 30 feet tall, and proceeded to bring it down. He worked quickly and expertly trimming branches, then used the snarling saw to cut the tree into 3 foot sections. Henry was sweating by now, while we relaxed in the shade. Then he looked up. "Start carrying these big ones to the road, while we're waiting for dad." I followed Nicholas' example and picked up a log section from near the top of the tree. Each time we returned from the truck, we picked up another section, and repeated the cycle. As we got closer to the base of the tree, the sections were too big for one person to carry, so Henry split them with the gasoline saw. They were still rather heavy, though, so Nicky and I doubled up on the last few large pieces. By now, we were all dripping perspiration. We only had a couple of minutes to catch our breaths, before Mr. C arrived in the pickup. It was quick work to fill the cargo bed, but the weight of the load caused the truck's rear end to sag slightly. We unloaded the wood near a low shed, where I cold see a stack of cut wood lined against one wall. Close by the shed was a very large block of wood, about 3 feet wide and high. The boys and their father spoke in their language as we worked. As soon as the truck was unloaded, Mr. C was off again, heading down the mountain. Henry retrieved an axe from inside the shed, picked up a log from the tree we'd just cut, and placed it standing on end, on the large block. Then, stepping back a few feet, he buried the blade in the upright end. The log didn't quite split all the way along its length, so he lifted the axe with both hands, its blade still buried in the partially split wood. When he brought them down again, the log split into two pieces. He continued in a similar fashion through several logs, sometimes splitting them on the first blow, other times needing 2 or 3 strikes before the log finally split. "Your turn, Danny, I'll show you how to hold the axe." Henry placed a log on the block and handed me the axe. After a minor adjustment to the position of my hands he stepped back and told me to try it. I managed to bury the blade in the end of the log, but not very far. I lifted the combined weight of both log and axe, and brought them down on the block, and repeated that move twice more before the log split. I heard Nicky's brief applause behind me, and looked up to find Henry laughing at Nicky's joke. Two or three split logs later, I was panting and sweating, and Nicky offered to take over. He went through 5 or 6 logs, then asked me if I wanted to try it again. There was no shade where we were standing, and we soon removed our t-shirts. Henry was watching me closely, and gave me a few more pointers. During their turns, I was watching each brother closely as well, but not for the same reason. Henry's taller, more developed body and longer arms made him the best axe handler, but Nicky was no slouch, either. The wide arc of each blow stretched glistening copper skin taut, over bellies, chests, shoulders, and arms. They both wore silver rodeo buckles on their belts, which reflected the sunlight with the movement of their upper bodies. Henry's swollen biceps were the most impressive among the three of us, I'm lanky and tightly packed, but not as densely muscled as Henry. Nicky was still too skinny to compete with us, but he held his own with the chiseled definition of what muscle he showed. Both boys' asses nicely filled their jeans. Alternating with the axe, we continued splitting up the wood until we'd finished the entire truckload. By now we were drenched in sweat. Henry shouted something toward the house, and his grandmother replied faintly from within. Henry turned to us with a smile, "Dad won't be back to take us home for two hours or so. There's a pond down that way, Danny, where the sheep graze. Wanna go swimming?" It took us a good twenty minutes of rigorous hiking to reach a shallow, earthwork damn, holding back a stream-fed pond. There was a motionless windmill accompanied by the usual round water tank, on the far side of the pond. The pastures below the windmill were empty, and fenced off. I could see several gates, which were all closed. The stream fell over a concrete and metal channel at the top of the small dam, and wound through the pastures below. The pond must have been there for a long time, because there were dogwood and willow trees growing in several places around the bank. Un-shaded areas of the shoreline were dominated by thick stands of cattail. Henry continued to lead the way, until we arrived at a shady spot by the water. Up close, I could see that the water was clear and dark. A few lily pads floated in the shallows under the trees, but there appeared to be no other obstructions. No sooner had I completed my analysis of water quality, than I heard Nicky's shrill, hooping holler, and a splash. While I'd been examining the aquatic flora, Nicky had shucked his pants, which lay on the shore. He now paddled away from the shore, and from underneath the dangling rope-swing which remained tied to the tree limb above him. By the time I saw the rope, Henry's bare arm was grabbing for it from the lower branches of the willow. The rest of him, naked, emerged rapidly from my peripheral vision, into widescreen Cinemascope, swinging out over the sparkling water, then submerging beneath it. I was left standing there, tenting rapidly. "C'mon Danny, the water's great!" "Yeah, Danny, hurry up and make like Tarzan!" I'd never stripped so fast in my young life. Unencumbered by clothes, I found my way up the branches of the tree, and grabbed the rope. I swung silently out over the dark water. Reflexively, as I released the rope, I curled my naked body into a cannonball dive, landing only a few feet from Henry, who'd barely cleared the strike zone. I immediately regretted my "innocent" mistake. By the time my face cleared the water, I felt Henry's steel embrace drive me under. He didn't let me go, even though I was sputtering and coughing, but he did let me come back the surface to breathe. Henry was facing me now, his legs locked around my waist. He looked down into my eyes, smiling like he had in my room, when he knew I was checking him out. My feet had touched the bottom, and I made my way into the lily pads. As I emerged, the bank, he released me. We stood facing each other, under the willow tree. Henry continued looking at my face as he reached around my ass. Still standing, I allowed him to turn me around. Now he spooned my body, his hands on my neck and shoulders, his tumescent cock teasing my responsive ass. He pushed me to my knees, which is when Nicky arrived to cushion my landing. His smooth male equipment loomed beneath my lips.