TLH_25

TEXAS LONGHORNS
By Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 25

Casey’s Journey

After five years of living with the Winchesters, Dwayne couldn’t see continuing to spend money for room and board when he could be living at the ranch. Money wasn't a problem. Our big brother was investing his money along with me and my little brother and making himself a comfortable nest egg which he kept totally quiet about from his dad and husband. They had no idea the personal wealth Dwayne accumulated in five years. We decided what went on with the three of us, stayed with the three of us within our corporation. Hell, the money Dwayne made per year just being a figure head on the board of our Hensley Agrocon Corp. was a handsome chunk of change. Like Logan and me, our big brother decided to let most of his money ride. He could’ve continued to live with Spencer and Donna for nothing. In fact, after high school they offered if he would consider staying.

Dwayne and Rance discussed it, but they were not the kind of men who didn’t pay their way. They thanked the Winchesters graciously, but Dwayne declined their generous offer and paid them room and board for the three extra years he stayed with them. He paid them from his own funds and never asked his dad for a cent. They came to love Dwayne and became two of his greatest supporters. In the Winchester’s eyes, Dwayne could do no wrong. While Spencer and Donna weren’t that old, Dwayne sort of thought of them as grandparents. Dwayne would drop by for dinner several nights a week. He was always welcome, and Donna made enough just in case Dwayne joined them. He was always there when Spencer had a project going and he needed a extra hand, or Dwayne would drop by just to help him finish quicker. The Winchesters would drive out to the ranch to have dinner with him. They’d bring the food and Donna would fix it for them while he and Spencer spent quality time together.

Rance Harding was coming home a lot more often. Rance made a great effort to be home for his boy when he could. He knew Dwayne wouldn’t bond with anyone else or marry. There was no doubt in his mind Dwayne and Lamar would grow old together. He also knew his boy would wait faithfully for his love. Rance didn’t have any problem with his son's choice, it just gave him more time to be alone with his boy. Dwayne leaned on his dad somewhat, but he was growing to be his own man. After seven years on the road, Rance began to get more than a little tired of it. He still loved his job, and worked at it balls-out to make more money for the company. He never let Sticker down, but he also wanted to spend more time with his boy. Rance missed out on most of Dwayne’s life, but now, when he had the opportunity to be with his boy, he seemed to be on the road all the time. Rance would never complain to Sticker if his ass was on fire. He was totally devoted to his big cowboy boss. Sticker Wiggins was no dummy. He could see what it was doing to his employee who also became his friend.

Rance still worked as hard as ever for his boss and made him lots of money, but it was beginning to tell in Rance’s health and Sticker could see it happening. Sticker learned from Sidney to take care of good employees, and they’ll take care of you. Sticker sat down with Rance and told him what he thought. He asked Rance, if he found another job for him, where he could be home more, could his second take over the stock company as ramrod? Rance had full confidence in his second, Curt Akins, and told Sticker he thought he could handle the job with no problem. Sticker promoted Rance to handle a couple of his other cowboy ventures. Rance would still be overseer of the rodeo stock company, he just wouldn’t be doing the hard work anymore. Rance was to be Sticker’s representative to make sure everything was running smoothly.

Sidney was giving Sticker more and more responsibilities, and he in turn, had to delegate some of his responsibilities for his personal ventures to others he could trust. After Rance proved himself with two companies, Sticker gave him another and later one more to manage. With each company came a substantial pay increase. Rance’s income doubled with two, tripled with three, and quadrupled with four. He was pulling down a salary better than many executives with large companies. Rance took to managing Sticker’s interest like a duck to water. He was as good a tiger at managing as he was at ramrodding the stock company, and Sticker’s profits soared from the companies Rance managed.

Rance was still busy as a cat covering up shit, and he was making damn good money as well as making a bundle for Sticker; but, the best part was, he could use the ranch as a home base and conduct a lot of his business by phone or e-mails. He still had to do some traveling, but not nearly as much as he did before. A lot of times he’d take Dwayne with him and began to teach him how to manage a large company. Rance recovered rapidly from his rundown state and was doing better all the time. He was happy living at home on the ranch with his boy. He was very much in love with Dwayne, but not so much he tried to influence Dwayne away from his one great love.

Sticker was the sole boss of the Lazy 8 for almost twelve years. It was still in the Wainright name, but Sticker handled everything for Sidney. In a dozen years Sticker doubled and tripled the profits from the ranch. He had no idea his mate had a living trust drawn up that left him the Lazy 8 if anything should happen to Sidney. Sticker wouldn’t have wanted to know. He wasn’t that kind of man. Sticker was in charge of everything at the ranch except running the day to day operations, but he would spend a week or more in the saddle with the cowboys sometimes. No one but the ramrod and the cook at the ranch knew Sticker was the boss man. He was just a neighboring cowboy who came to give them a hand once in a while. That’s the way Sticker wanted it.

He would observe the cowboys, work with them, and get to know them. It rarely happened, but once in a great while a cowboy would be given his walking papers a couple of months after Sticker’s visit. He didn’t do it too often because cowboys of any kind were a dying breed of men. The pay was low and the work was hard. Men really had to love being a cowboy to work so hard for such little pay. The Lazy 8 paid better than most ranches, but they also expected the work from the cowboys. Word soon got around, the Lazy 8 was paying top wages and they rarely had much problem replacing a hand. Holding on to them for long periods was a problem all ranches faced.

* * * * * * *
They gave me a big party at the Harding ranch the day before I was planning to leave. It was a Saturday and I was leaving the next day. It was another co-op party where everyone brought something. Dwayne and Rance coordinated the whole thing. Everyone in town knew Casey was going to go rodeoing. I think everybody in the damn town was there to say goodbye and wish me well. Lamar was home on two weeks leave. As a master sergeant he had three weeks leave a year and he would spend one week at Christmas with Rance and Dwayne on the ranch. He came to think of the ranch and the good folks who loved him as his family.

We certainly thought of him as family. I swear he was bigger than he was the last leave he stayed with us. Dwayne confirmed it. He told us we wouldn’t believe his body now. Dwayne laughed and told us sometimes he didn’t know whether to make love to him or fall at his feet and worship him. The big black giant man got me aside, put his huge arm over my shoulder, and walked me down toward the barn. “Casey, my handsome cowboy brother, what are you doing? How can you leave that wonderful man who loves you so much? Our little brother will take good care of him, I have no doubt, but he ain’t you, Son,” Lamar asked.

“Oh, God, Lamar, please don’t make this any harder on me than it already is, sir. I don’t have anything I can honestly tell you. I can’t give you a good reason for going. I just don’t know. All I know is something’s calling me, and I must go. I may never have another chance, sir. Let’s be fair about this. Why do you stay in the Marine Corps when there’s a man on this ranch what worships you and needs you?” I asked with a grin.

“‘Dasa’ good point, Little Brother. I guess I don’t have a lot of room to ask a question like that, but I’s jes’ concerned about you. It won’t always be this way between me and my love, Casey. Don’t tell your brother, ‘cause I don’t wanna’ go git’n his hopes built up to knock ‘em down, but I’s working hard toward get’n assigned to Pendleton. One of the commandants there knows me and likes me. I worked for him before. I think he may send for me when I makes Sergeant First Class. I’d be in charge of several classes of recruits in training and their drill instructors.”

“That would be wonderful, Lamar. Do you think you could live here on the ranch?" I asked.

“That’s what I’s a’ hoping. It might not be ‘til the end of this hitch and to git it, they’s probably gonna’ want me to do another four years. They call it an ‘incentive.’ I jes’ learned me that word a couple a’ weeks ago. It means it’s like put’n a carrot in front of a horse to make him go. You give ‘em what they wants, and they give you what chu’ want.”

“Are you planning on making the Corps a career?” I asked.

“I ain’t thought that far ahead, Son. I been take’n it day by day, year by year, but if I put in another four years, I’ll have half the time in I need to put in for retirement. If the next ten goes by as fast as this ten’s go’n by, my baby boy and I will be ride’n high. I ain’t gonna’ do anything before I talk’s it over with my family here and gits their thoughts; Mr. Rance, Mr. Bard, yore’ daddy, Mr. Winchester, Mr. Wainright, and Mr. Wiggins. I thinks the world of them men; I thinks of them as my family. I wouldn’t do nothing without talk’n to them men first. They ain’t never steered me wrong so far.

"Of course, I’ll have to talk it over with my baby boy. He’s been pretty understanding about sharing his husband with the Corps, and it makes me love him all the more. In a way, he’s like my carrot in life. I live from leave to leave to come home and be with my baby boy. I don’t do nothing the entire time I’s away from him. I keeps my nose clean and does my business for the Corps. I ain’t fuck’n up the finest thing what ever happened in my life. I never thought as big as am I’d ever find me someone to love and love me. My physical size alone scares most people of any quality away. My baby boy likes me big. That’s why I work so hard to git as big for him as I can.

"When I found out from them men I loves and his daddy what he done for me to be able to take me and satisfy his black giant, I cried for two days. His daddy done brought out ‘pink floyd’ and told me how his brothers worked with him for months helping him learn to take that big piece of rubber. That’s also part of why I love’s you and your little brother so damn much. I gots you two men to thank for help’n my baby boy become my mate. You don’t know how much you contributed to our pleasure. As I understand it you men and his daddy still work him over with that big thing ever now and then jes’ to keep him open for me.”

“Yeah, we have, sir. We love you and we love him. We love you together and the love you share with our brother spills over onto all of us. It makes us feel good to see you happy with each other.”

“I thanked yore’ little brother, and I’m a’ thank’n you, my handsome cowboy brother, for your unselfishness and your love for us. God knows what he’s doing and my baby boy was right. The Old Man done sent ‘dat boy to me to be my protector and my guide through this life and he has been. His love for me and my love for him has kept me on the straight and narrow. His love for me has brought me the most wonderful men for family I could ever wish for. He’s the only person I’ll ever love in this life. I don’t know how I knows that, but I do. I love him without measure, Casey.”

“I don’t think there’s a doubt in his mind you love him, sir.”

“He shouldn’t. I told him never to doubt my love for him and I meant it. I jes’ want the best for both of us. Now, talk to ole Lamar, Child. Tell you’re big brother what you gonna’ be look’n for out there you can’t find rye-cheer in your own back yard?” he asked.

“If’n I tell you, will you promise not to say nothing to my dad?” I asked in reply.

“I swear on the Corps, Son,” Lamar raised his right hand in oath.

“My granddaddy,” I replied.

“Whoah! Child! I shore’ ‘nuff won’t say nothing to yore’ daddy about him, Boy. I know'd him and his daddy done parted ways a long time ago. He done sit me down an’ told me about his daddy, Son. I don’t blame yore’ daddy a bit for what he done. If his old man’s really as bad as he says, and I don’t think yore’ daddy would lie to me, he done the right thing for him and you. I thinks yore’ daddy’s a wise man, Son?”

“I don’t know, sir. I don’t plan to tell my granddad who I am if I run into him. I jes’ wanna’ meet him.”

“Listen to old Lamar, Child, if you gets yore’self into trouble, you need help, you let chore’ brother know and wherever you is, I’ll git money to you, or I’ll send in the Marines. I got me enough pull I can do it, Boy. You understand, Son?” he asked.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your concern with all my heart. I promise I will if I need help.”

“Good! Now, let’s us walk back up there and git us some’um to eat. I loves you, Little Brother, and I’ll be a’ praying for a safe journey for you.”

“I love you, too, sir, and thank you for your kindness and understanding.”

Everyman there within our group took me for a walk and gave me the same speech. Each one wanted to be the first I called if I found myself in trouble. Even Sheriff Bard, with tears in his eyes, made me promise to keep in touch with him, and if I needed help he would get money to me muy pronto or he would have a fellow lawman by my side in minutes. I thanked all of them sincerely. They meant what they said, and I had no doubt they would back up their words with action if I needed them.

I told my little brother my fear of going into Texas with my eyes being a rare color and folks might associate me with my granddad because of his dark violet eyes. Little Bit always had an answer for every problem. He took me to his eye doctor. I never knew our little brother wore contact lenses. He told the doctor what I needed, and he told us it was no problem. He had soft, colored contact lenses without any correction in different colors what would change the color of my eyes. They were surprisingly comfortable. I bought three pair from him that were a light blue in color; however, when worn over my dark violet eyes it made them appear a deep blue color. Logan said it made me look even more handsome. I wore them some before I left to get use to them but never in my dad’s presence. He would’ve known immediately what I was up to and have a conniption fit. While I love my old man dearly, I didn’t want to go through another hour and a half lecture.

When I pulled out in the double ‘R,’ my little brother handed me an envelope. I thought was just a card. He told me not to open it until I got to my first stop. I did as I was instructed, and when I opened the card two five hundred dollar bills fell into my lap. It was signed by all the wonderful men in our family; Rance, Dwayne, and Lamar; the Winchesters; Sheriff Bard; Sidney; Sticker; my little brother; Frank; Curly; all the deputies; Bodey; Flynn; and lastly my dad. I sat and cried like a baby. Only Sidney, Logan, Dwayne, and I assumed Sticker, knew of my financial holdings and how much I was worth. Sticker and Sidney didn’t know who the owner or owners of the thousand shares in their company was. All they knew was a corporation bought them. I didn’t really need the money, but it was the gesture that really touched me.

It was tough leaving my dad, but I knew he’d be in good hands with my little brother. He was comfortable with Logan. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy on dad, but I felt like I had to go. I don’t know why I felt such a strong draw to get away, but I did. Everything and everyone I loved was there in our little town. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was going to do. Many times I’d come to a crossroad and flip a coin. Wherever chance took me and my pony, that’s where we went.

I was pulling our double horse trailer behind the Rambling Ramada, but I only had my wonderful little pinto roping pony dad gave me for my seventeenth birthday in the trailer. I trained him myself to be the best damn roping pony I ever had. I could swear sometime that pony could read my mind. Little Bit confirmed it for me. Growing up and living on a ranch my daddy taught me not to fall in love with animals because they were there for our help and our food. I never got attached to any animal except our old heeler dog and my pony. I love my little pony and he loves me. I didn’t know what to name him, so I called him ‘pony’ for the longest time. One afternoon I was working with him, and I heard Logan ask Dwayne if he didn’t think my pony looked like a bowl of ‘Rocky Road’ ice cream. Dwayne agreed with him, and they started calling him, ‘Rocky.’ I thought it was as good a name as any, and since my brothers named him, I gave him the name. It really was the perfect for him, and he would come to me when I called him by his name.

I quickly learned where I could stay so I could take my pony out of the trailer and walk him a bit. I had to think of my pony as well as myself. It was good because he probably kept me out of trouble. It was a bit easier at recreational vehicle parks where I would ask for a space as far to the back on the lot as possible to walk my pony. Most of them were pretty accommodating, but every now and then I’d run into a bastard who was a hard nose and just wasn’t interested or too bored with his quotidian life he couldn't tap into his humanity beneath his low-life anger to cooperate. “If you wanna’ a space, you take what we assign you, Cowboy. Jess' 'cause you's tote'n a nag don't make you special,” one big asshole with more tattoos than brains told me. I didn't say a word but turned and walked out. If I had to drive all night to find another place, I would. That night I parked in a rest stop between Phoenix and Tucson and took Rocky for a long walk. He could tell I was upset muttering to myself and cursing. My partner was extra-special with his attention and affection like he was trying to soothe my spirit. I got the distinct feeling he was trying to tell me to let it go. He soon got me in a better mood and he laughed when I told him what that unwashed asshole called my best buddy. That night, I began to wonder just how much Rocky understood when I talked to him.

I knew it was going to be tough without a roping partner, but I developed another roping skill over the years, calf roping. I got pretty damn good at it, too. The last year dad and I went around to the local rodeos, I entered the calf roping competition as well as team roping. I was winning almost as much at calf roping as we were in team roping. I had my little brother help me do an Internet search before I left. I had a print out of the dates and times of most of the major rodeos and many of the smaller ones. Little Bit was so thorough he had them listed several ways, by dates, alphabetized, and size. I would put a sign on the double ‘R’ that read: Champion Team Roper looking for a partner. I didn’t get a lot of takers. I ended up having to calf rope to win any money.

I was doing all right. Most rodeos, I at least placed. I didn't need the money, but like any cowboy I wanted to win for the pride. I found it was sometimes easier to get a partner at a small town rodeo than it was the larger rodeos. Them good old boys would take pity on the kid and toss a few with him. When they found out I was better than pretty good, they all wanted to rope with me. Sometimes small towns had more talented ropers than were roping on the circuit. After a dozen or more rodeos I was about to give up the idea of trying to do the circuit. I didn’t have a partner to go with me, and while I was a good calf roper, I was still a long way from competing with the professional cowboys who rode the circuit. Besides, I was having a good enough time at the smaller rodeos. The people were more friendly, honest, and open with you than they were at the bigger rodeos where there was a lot of competition anxiety and little social interaction. There was no time for laid-back, friendly competition or camaraderie. Winning was everything.

I was at a rodeo almost every weekend. I’d pay my entry fees, and because I was a registered contestant, I would be allowed to park the Rambling Ramada on the grounds. Most, except the very smallest rodeos, had RV hookups. The Double R was fully self-contained if hookups weren’t available. I spent several weeks rodeoing in Nevada and small towns in Northern Arizona. I wanted to attend the Tucson rodeo, and I got there about three days early. I tried to find an RV campground, but I couldn’t find one I liked. I was about to give up when I pulled into a Shell station to gas up and asked the attendant if he knew of any RV campgrounds that were decent.

“Naw, don’t know of any. You here for the rodeo, Son?” he asked.

“What gimme’ away, sir?” I laughed as I pushed my cowboy hat back on my head. He laughed with me.

“You by yourself?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, jes’ me’n my pony,” I replied.

“Tell you what, lemme’ make a phone call,” he said.

He went into the station, and I could see him on the phone talking to someone. He returned with a piece of paper with an address and a small map to a ranch ten miles outside of Tucson called the ‘Broken Arrow’ with a man’s name, Dan Yates, and his phone number underneath.

“This here’s a map of a rodeo-friendly ranch about eight miles down this road due South a' here. It’s owned by a fine man I know'd for years. His name is Dan Yates and his partner’s Billy Gunn. They be champion ropers. I think you’d fit right in with the crowd he has around there. They’s jes’ now starting to gather. I called him, and they’s expecting you. Said for you to git chore’ ass on out there, they'll be wait’n supper for you. Jes’ follow this road about eight miles and it’s on the left. Big ole sign says, Broken Arrow Ranch. You can’t miss it.”

About that time there came a Hell of a racket as sixteen big motorcycles pulled into the station and hailed the owner by name. He returned their salutations. “Hey, Waddie. Hey, Titus. Howdy, Jim. Beau. Chief. Blaine. Ain’t seen ya’ll in a long time,” he said.

Four huge men got off their Harleys, walked over and looked me up and down. Several were wearing the strangest looking leather pants which had a pouch at their crotch where I assume their dick and balls might fit. I found them incredibly sexy. They had snaps on them and they looked like they could be easily removed. It was like seeing a man’s cock and balls in a leather wrapping making it into a compact package, a gift just waiting to be opened by some lucky person.

Waddie? That name was familiar. Ain’t a lot a’ men named Waddie. ‘Naw it couldn’t be,’ I thought to myself. The 'Waddie' I knew was just like his name, a big, older, fine looking cowboy. He was the man who used to beat me and dad all the time at team roping with his partner from Ramona. He hadn’t beat us in the last couple of years, though. Of course, he wasn’t competing either. The ‘Waddie’ I knew wasn’t a biker. The closer the men got the more I could swear it was the same man. He was a decent enough looking older man, but just on the boarder line of being ugly; well, maybe ruggedly handsome. He had on a pair of the leather pants with a pouch and big, tall, black, heavy motorcycle boots. He had on a big leather jacket, and his complete package was sexy as Hell. He made my heart skip a beat. No, make that two beats and a rim-shot. Right behind him was a fine looking older man I heard the big man call Titus. The one he called Chief was obviously American Indian. He was almost as big as Waddie or Titus. Chief’s road buddy was a good looking man named Blaine. He was a very attractive, handsome man.

The big man, the biker, whom the owner of the station called Big Jim was huge. He was much like Waddie, border line ugly, but his complete package was very sexy, too. He wasn’t as big as Lamar but damn near. His road buddy was a handsome middle aged man named Beau. Now they were closer I was sure this man was Waddie Claymore, the big older cowboy who lives on a ranch about ten miles Southwest of Warner Springs. He’d been to lots of our football, basket ball, and baseball games to cheer us on. I knew him and Sticker were big friends. “Ya’ll headed out to the Broken Arrow?” the owner of the station asked the bikers.

“Yeah, we’s on our way, but we couldn’t go by without stopping to say ‘hello.’ You gonna’ come to the rodeo this year, Fred?” Mr. Claymore asked the station owner.

“Oh, yeah. Me and my boy’s gonna’ stomp yore’ butt this year, Cowboy,” he replied.

The big men roared with laughter. “I hope you do, Fred. It’s about time,” Mr. Claymore said.

“Who you got for a partner this year, Waddie?” Fred asked.

“I may not rope this year, Fred. Ain’t got me no partner for the Tucson rodeo. So you and yore’ boy jes’ might win this year,” he said and laughed, “We’s headed to my hometown for the Fourth of July rodeo, and I might rope with my boy or one of his boys there. I asked him to come to Tucson and rope with me, but he’s sheriff of the county now, and got too many responsibilities. Who’s this fine looking young cowboy, Fred?” he asked.

“Don’t know his name yet, but I jes’ called Dan Yates, and he said to send him on out. They’s waiting dinner for him. Ya’ll better git out there, too, if’n you wanna’ git’ some of Mrs. Russell’s fine cooking. If’n ya’ don’t git there before they feed Griz you may not git none,” he said and grinned.

The men laughed.

“Would ja’ look at the color of this young man’s eyes. Holy crap, now that’s something you don’t see ever’ day. Wait a minute. I know'd one young man what’s got them violet eyes. Don’t live too far from me, neither. What chore’ name, Son?” Mr. Claymore asked me

“Casey Longhorn, Mr. Claymore," I replied.

He looked at me with surprise. He smiled real big as recognition came across his face. He grabbed my hand with his big hand and started pumping it. That wasn’t good enough for him. He pulled me into his big arms for a hug. God, I was surrounded by leather, and it smelled wonderful. I always thought Mr. Claymore was a fine looking cowboy, but in his biker leathers with a black bandanna tied around his head he looked meaner than a damn Brahma bull. My dick started to get hard and drool in my Wrangles. He looked right down at my crotch and saw it, too. He grinned and winked at me. “Hoe-lee shit! Damn, Son, it’s good to see you again. Sorry I didn’t recognize you right off. Is yore’ daddy with ya’? Ya’ll come to rope in the Tucson rodeo?” Mr. Claymore asked like he’d found a long lost friend.

“I come by myself, Mr. Claymore. I don’t know if you know or not, but my daddy got his legs shot off in Vietnam. He does all right on his artificial legs, good enough to rope and ride in local rodeos, but a long trip like I’m taking would be too much for him, sir. Besides, he’s got our ranch to run.”

“I never knew, Son, but I ain’t never had much chance to talk with you or yore’ dad. I know Sticker Wiggins thinks the world of you and yore’ old man. Yore’ daddy, he be a good look’n man, Son, and a fine cowboy,” he said sincerely.

“Damn, Waddie! Do you know ever’ body? We can’t take you nowheres you don’t know somebody,” the huge man appropriately named ‘Big Jim’ interrupted.

“Don’t know ever’ body, Brother, but I know most men who toss a rope in our area. It’s a small group of men, and we know each other from local rodeos – ain’t ‘tat right, Son?” he smiled and winked at me for confirmation.

“‘At’s right, sir. I didn’t recognize you ‘til you walked up. I’m more used to seeing you sit a pony. Ain’t never seen you without a cowboy hat I can remember,” I allowed.

“I guess you’re right. Me and my brothers here, we’re on a run to Key West, Florida on our bikes, but we’re stopping by some old friends to attend the rodeo this weekend. This fine looking gentleman here, he be my road buddy for this run. His name is Titus. The biggest man here, his name is Big Jim for obvious reasons.”

Mr. Claymore went on to introduce me to the rest of the men. I shook hands with all of them. “Good to meet you, Gentlemen,” I told them

“Got chore’self a partner for the rodeo, Cowboy?” Mr. Claymore asked.

“Naw, sir, not yet. Since I’m traveling alone, it’s kinda hard to find a decent partner so I mostly do calf roping,” I replied.

“Ya’ any good, Kid?” Big Jim asked.

“My daddy and I won every major rodeo in the Western states cept’n parts of Arizona and New Mexico. We never ventured over here. It was too long a trip for my dad,” I replied.

“He’s damn good, Brother. Don’t know’s me and Winston could beat him and his pa, now. Sorry about yore’ pa losing his legs, Son. We know about Nam. Titus and me, and them two over there, they was over there. We know what your daddy went through. Tell you what, we’s headed out to the Broken Arrow. Why don’t chu’ jes’ follow us, and we’ll get chu’ out there? Oh, and by the way, if’n a big Grizzly bear comes out to greet us, don’t be afeared. He's tame enough. He be an old friend, but he's been known to carry handsome young cowboy's off to his den and do strange things to 'um. Jes’ stick close to us, and he won’t hurt cha’ none.’” All of the men laughed and agreed with Mr. Claymore. I thought they were bullshit’n me. Come to find out, they weren’t too far wrong.

They waited patiently as I got the double ‘R’ on the road and they took off. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I knew and really liked Mr. Claymore, but these men looked for all the world like ‘Hell’s Angels.’ Well, to be fair, the geriatrics contingent of the ‘Angels.’ Who knows, they just might get drunk, rowdy, rape, and rob me, but I wondered if you could get drunk on Geritol. ‘Well,' I thought to myself, ‘three out a’ four ain’t bad. I really wouldn’t mind if Mr. Claymore raped me. I carried a secret hard-on for him for a long time. I always did think he sat a fine horse. The man rode like he was born to the saddle. I certainly would like to find out how he felt in my saddle.' I wonder if he might be into raping a young cowboy. If there’s a God, Mr. Claymore would take me and have his way with me. I remember my daddy telling my little brother, you can’t call it rape if you're a willing victim. I laughed to myself. What the Hell, a big man like him probably loves cunt.

We got to the ranch and a fine looking older man and his partner came out to meet us. They introduced me all around. The man who owned the ranch, Dan Yates’ partner, Billy Gunn, they called ‘Cowboy.’ He helped me get my pony out of the trailer, we took him to their barn, put him in a stall, fed, and watered him. Rocky looked around and snorted his acceptance. The accommodations, while not luxurious, were comfortable he allowed. He could walk out the back into a large corral area for exercise. While we were putting ‘Rocky,’ in the barn, Cowboy hollered to someone I couldn’t see coming down a stairs inside the barn.

“Hey, Griz, come on over here and meet this young cowboy, his name is Casey Longhorn,” Cowboy shouted to the man.

I turned around and before me stood a huge man. He was every bit as big or bigger than Lamar. Damn, he was huge. He was covered in hair. He had a full beard and mustache and I could see hair coming out from under his Western shirt. Even the tops of his hands were covered in hair. I almost swallowed my tongue. This had to be the 'Grizzly' Mr. Claymore warned me about. He certainly was as imposing as one, but there was an aura of goodness about him. There was a light in his eyes that comforted me and as imposing as he was, I wasn’t the least afraid of him.

He stuck out his big paw. “Nice to meet chu,’ Mister Casey,” the giant man said softly as he shook my hand.

“Just ‘Casey,’ sir,” I smiled at him, "It's good to meet you, too, Mr. Griz," I said with respect.

“I’m jes,’ ‘Griz,’ Casey. Yore’ eyes shore' is a purdy color, Casey. I only seen me a couple a’ men in the last thirty years what come to the ranch with eyes like yorn. Yore’ granddaddy give you them eyes,” he said shyly as a statement, not a question, like he knew without a doubt.

Oh shit! Why was my dick getting hard? Oh Lord, I suddenly felt someone in my head. The feeling was unmistakable. Dwayne and I learned when my little brother was trying to get into my head, but this was nothing like Logan. I was almost as good as Dwayne in locking him out if I didn’t want him rummaging around in my mind, but this was a powerful touch. I doubt seriously I could’ve locked this person out. Whoever it was knew the minute I felt them; they knew I recognized I was being tapped, and they withdrew in a flash, like a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar. I could’ve sworn I heard a chuckle.

“Thank you, Griz, for the compliment. Yes, sir, my granddaddy done gimme’ my eyes. How’d ju’ know?” I asked suddenly realizing how he knew.

“It’s a long story, Casey. We’ll tell you later. Griz has some unusual talents," Cowboy said.

Griz smiled at Cowboy’s words.

“Yeah, my little brother does, too, he can git inside yore’ head,” I told Cowboy.

“Griz, has that ability, too. He can git inside animals heads as well.”

“So can my little brother. I’m used to him, so it don’t bother me none.”

Griz was on his way to the big house for dinner with the other men. Damned if Waddie wasn’t right, he looked like a Grizzly bear. He even walked like I would imagine one to walk. I was more than a little impressed by his size. I wondered if what hung between his legs was proportionate to the rest of his body. Griz turned to me and smiled, “To find that out, Casey, you’ll have ta’ spend the night with me in my den,” he said. Griz looked at me and winked as I turned beet red. My God he read my mind slicker than shit runs through a goose, but I didn’t feel him that time. He was damn good. Almost like our little brother, but Little Bit wasn’t yet as good as Griz.

“Griz, go easy on our young cowboy guest. He jes’ come among us, he ain’t used to us yet. You stay outa’ his head, now, ya’ hear? That’s an order, Big Man!” Cowboy barked at him.

“Yes, sir, Master Billy. I’m sorry, Casey. You make my dick hard, too,” he apologized.

I blushed even more, but I placed my hand on Griz’s huge arm to let him know it was all right. He didn’t mean any harm and it seemed to be his way of making me feel welcome. ‘Did I just hear him call Cowboy, ‘Master Billy’?’ I wondered to myself. Griz looked at me smiled, winked, and nodded his head ‘yes’ to the question in my head. I knew Cowboy didn’t see him. I smiled and nodded to him I understood. I leaned in to him and spoke loud enough Cowboy could hear. “I really don’t mind, Griz. I ain't got me no secrets, but if you choose to tap me, at least let me know you’re there," I told him.

“I will, Casey. You really felt me. It’s the first time I’ve ever met anyone who knew I was in their head,” he declared.

Girz went on into the main house, but Cowboy walked with me to the double ‘R’ and showed me where to park.

“Nice rig ya’ got here, Son,” Cowboy said as he gave me a hand hooking up the utilities. They had spaces for about a dozen motor coaches. A big, older, GMC motor coach was sitting next to the space he told me to park in. “That big GMC motorcoach over there is ours. We used to use it a lot when Dan and I were riding the circuit years ago, but we ain’t got much use out of it lately. We take it to L.A. ever’ now and then and to my hometown in Texas for an annual rodeo we founded when I lost my first master.”

‘Master?’ I thought to myself, ‘What the Hell did he mean? Cowboy was Griz’s master, and Dan Yates was Cowboy’s master?’ This was all too confusing. I wasn’t going to ask.

“Did you do good on the circuit, sir,” I asked.

“National champions four years, and I was National champ with my uncle way back before you was born in the sixties. I was sent to Nam with Master Dan’s boy Buck. He was one of the greatest loves of my live, but he and two of my best buddies was killed saving my life over there,” he said.

“Damn, that’s hard, sir. My daddy lost his legs in Nam, but he still manages to rope and ride with his artificial legs. He taught me to rope. We done won ever’thing in our neck of the woods. He couldn’t come with me because it would ‘a been too hard on him,” I explained.

“I can understand that, Son. Come on, Young Man, we done fed your pony, let’s us go strap on the old feed bag,” he grinned.

He took me into the big house and into a huge dining area. There was a long wooden table covered in oil cloth with three picnic benches down each side. They were each about eight feet long, so the table itself had to be at least twenty feet. Dan Yates sat at the head of the table, and they set Griz on his left. Everyone was standing up waiting for us. The men joined hands around the table. Dan said a brief prayer of thanks, and we sat down to eat. The food was wonderful. The lady who did the cooking was Mrs. Russell and she was a great cook. She had a Hopitu American Indian lady and a Mexican lady assistants. It was family style, and they kept filling up the bowls. The food was delicious and there was lots of it. I sat next to Cowboy, who sat on Mr. Yates right, across from Mr. Claymore and his road buddy. I watched the giant man, Griz, across from me. He didn’t gobble down his food, he ate steadily, and he ate a lot.

“You get our young cowboy’s pony fed and watered, Son?” Dan asked Cowboy.

“Yes, sir, Dad,” Cowboy responded.

Dad? He called Dan, dad? I wondered if... ‘Ah, ain’t none of your business, Casey.’ I thought to myself. ‘However, Cowboy told me Dan’s boy was one of the great loves of his life. Humm...’ I pondered to myself.

Two of the men at the table I assumed were ranch hands were also fine looking men. They looked enough alike to be brothers, maybe even fraternal twins. I found out later they were father and son. Their names were Boots and Sonny. I heard Sonny call Boots, dad, and it made me wonder about them, too. Once in a while I would hear the younger man call the older man ‘master,’ but I had no idea why. I didn’t know what the Hell was going on, but I knew I was more comfortable and relaxed with this group of men than I’d been in a while. They gave off the same collective goodness the men in my hometown did. Cowboy seated me next to him. I told him quietly I was confused about what folks were calling each other. Cowboy laughed and ask how old I was. I told him I just turned twenty-one a couple of weeks ago. “Well, I guess you’re old enough. I’m Billy Gunn the third. Boots and Sonny are my kin, and their real names are Billy Gunn Junior and Billy Gunn the third. Are you more confused now? Boots is Sonny’s master, but he also happens to be his dad,” he explained and he was right, I was even more confused.

“I’m a little confused, but I ain’t overly anxious about it. It brings up all sort of other questions in my mind, but it’s rude to ask folks about private things. My dad done told me if they want you to know, they’ll tell you, otherwise, you shouldn’t ask. I’m jes’ grateful to find you men and for a decent place to stay for a couple of days. I ain’t had me no good company in several weeks now, and I miss my loved ones I left behind in my hometown. I thought going out on my own would be a wonderful adventure, but it ain’t been nearly as great as I thought it might be. I thought I’d be so busy I wouldn’t miss them, but I do,” I said. A tear came to my eye, but I quickly wiped it away. Cowboy didn’t miss it. He put his arm around me to comfort me.

“I know how you feel, Son. It’s a long story about this group of men, but I’ll tell you later. If you wonder why some men call their partner ‘master,’ I’ll explain it to you as well, or if you get lucky tonight, they might explain it to you,” he said quietly and smiled at me.

I didn’t ask anymore, but I certainly knew what the term ‘getting lucky’ meant. If only it was true, but I assumed they were all paired off. When Cowboy told me about getting lucky, Mr. Claymore was looking directly at me. I blushed when he winked at me. Oh, Dear Lord, he knew. He could see it in my eyes. Cousin Rance told us one night at dinner, cowboys knew that sort of thing about each other. I was beginning to think he was right. I wondered if that included bikers? I knew Mr. Claymore was a cowboy and worked as a hand on a working ranch. What was I doing thinking about this man that way? I guess I made a fool of myself. I tried hard not to look at him, but he was sitting directly across from me. My eyes kept coming to rest on his ruggedly handsome countenance.

My ole dick was hard the whole time. I wondered what it might be like to make love to the man sitting across from me, and kiss him on his lips. His hair was a handsome, pure silver in a short crew cut, and his neatly trimmed beard and mustache was the same color. Rather than make him look older, it seemed to round off his appearance and fame him in a maturity that was more than a little appealing to me. He looked like he probably could be older than my granddad, but damnation he was a sexy man. He just dripped sex. My old dick got hard looking at him and thinking of the nasty things I could do with him, at least, until he popped my plug out of my butt to take me. Damn, my plug! I forgot about that. I wonder if my plug would be a big a turn off for him?

<< Hardly, >> I head a voice in my head say.

I looked at the giant man sitting across the table next to Dan Yates. He usually sat at the other end, but when there was only a few or just family for dinner he set on one side of Dan and Cowboy sat on the other. I smiled at Griz and nodded to him.

<< Thanks, Buddy, >> I projected toward him. He smiled and nodded back to me.

Mr. Claymore was obviously with the handsome man sitting next to him, but Mr. Claymore didn’t seem to be paying him much attention, other than to talk to him now and then. Titus was a hyper-masculine man who seemed quiet and reserved. I could tell by the way Titus looked at his road partner he was taken with him. He looked at Mr. Claymore like he was the last dough-nut in the box and everybody else had one but him, but I also noticed Mr. Claymore seemed oblivious to the way Titus’s was looking at him. Maybe he wasn’t aware. Maybe he just didn’t know. I had no way of knowing what their relationship was all about.

<< Master Waddie don’t know his road buddy is in love with him, Casey. That’s why my Friend brought you two together here at the same time. You will tell him what you see, and it will make him become aware of Mr. Titus. Mr. Claymore loves, admires, and respects his road buddy, but Mr. Claymore don’t think he’s good enough for Titus. They need each other, >> Griz came to my rescue again.

<< Well, he’s damn sure good enough for me, Big Buddy. I’d beg that man to fuck me ‘til Alaska melts and they find out it ain’t half as big as Texas, >> I declared.

Griz burst out laughing. I winked at him and he blushed. Everyone at the table was looking at him.

<< Be patient, Little One, you’ll get your chance tonight. He ain’t been with no one since his mate, Zane, died. He let a man suck him off in a dark corner of a bar one night, but that’s it. My Friend knows what he’s doing. Mr. Claymore – I call him Master Waddie – he ain’t thought of nothing else since he met up with you at Fred’s Texaco station but split’n yore’ fine looking cowboy ass with his big cock. He didn’t just stop for gas, Young’un, he stopped to check you out. You have to be with him for a while to bring him around to realizing he’s still a good and worthy man. When you do, then his heart will be opened, and he’ll be ready to take Mr. Titus for his slave, >> Griz sent to me.

I smiled and nodded my understanding. Cowboy saw our exchange. “What’s that giant hairy beast tell’n you, Casey?” Cowboy asked me after seeing Griz blush.

I laughed. Griz went back to eating his dinner. “Nothing, much, sir, he jes’ told me he though I was purdy, again. I thought it was sweet of him," I said.

“Griz, what’ud I tell you?” Cowboy asked Griz and shook his finger at the big man.

“Please, Mr. Cowboy, it weren’t his fault. I asked him a question, sir,” I came to Griz's defense.

“Jes’ call me, ‘Cowboy,’ Son,” Cowboy said.

“Thanks, sir, I appreciate that,” I replied.

“Well, that's okay then. He don’t never fail to obey me. He’s a good slave, and I love him,” Cowboy said.

I watched Gris get a big grin on his face, and he blushed again. We laughed at his shyness. He was so good natured. After dinner everyone went to clean up and were going to meet in the big spa on Dan’s back patio. The patio had a high adobe wall surrounding the area and was completely private. Dan offered me the use of their bathroom when they got through showering. I went to the coach to get my small bag in which I carry my private stuff. They were through by the time I got back so I decided to clean myself – just in case, you understand – by some miracle I might get lucky. I decided to insert my plug. I discovered if I squeezed my butt cheeks together you couldn’t tell I was wearing it.

When I went out to the patio most of the men were already in the large spa. Dan and Cowboy loaned me a big towel to rap around me to walk to the patio. When I dropped my towel and walked to the hot pool there were wolf whistles and cat calls from the men because of my Longhorn swinging between my legs. I was used to it, and it didn’t bother me. I sat on the edge and gently lowered myself into the hot bubbling water. I made sure I sat by Mr. Claymore. That way I didn’t have to look directly at him. I could appreciate him more by sitting next to him. Titus was on his other side and Cowboy was on my other side next to his master. I never was in a spa before, but I knew I was going to like it.

“Well, now we know where he got the name ‘Longhorn,’" Dan Yates said. Everyone laughed and agreed.

“The kids at school used to call me the ‘longhorn.’ They cut out pictures of longhorn cattle and glued them to my locker. I made every kid, who took their time to cut one out and paste it to my locker, sign it. By the time I was a junior in high school you couldn’t see the metal door of my locker for all the longhorn cows pasted on it,” I said without bragging.

They thought that was a good story. Someone got up to make a beer run and asked if I wanted a beer. I declined. “I don’t drink, sir, but thanks for asking. I tasted it several times, and it tastes like horse piss smells to me,” I said.

Cowboy fell out laughing and almost choked. “I’m the same way, Casey. I’d much rather drink my master’s recycled beer than drink regular beer,” he said.

That kind ‘a hit me between the eyes. What did Cowboy mean, recycled beer? What the Hell was he talking about, drinking Dan Yates’ piss? I never heard of a man drinking another man’s piss before. God, I could never do that. That’s just plumb awful to even think about. That’s downright nasty. Ah, he’s got to be kidding me. They’ll tell me in a minute they’re pulling my leg.

“Is Mr. Yates your master, Cowboy?” I asked him quietly.

“Yes, Son, he is. I’m his slave. He owns me. We own Griz together – right, Big Man?” Cowboy asked. Griz was sitting next to Dan Yates with his big hairy arm resting on the cement deck behind Dan’s shoulders.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Cowboy. I’m proud to be owned by you and Master Dan, sir,” he replied.

“And do you drink your master’s recycled beer often, sir?” I asked shyly. Everyone near us broke up laughing at my question.

Mr. Claymore leaned over to speak to me in a low voice. “That ain’t beer in the can he’s holding, Son,” he said.

“Oh, I see. Sorry, sir,” I said to Cowboy.

“‘At’s all right, Casey. You couldn’t have known, Son. Our way of life is new to you. It probably sounds horrible to you at first. I know it did to me. Many years ago, I fell in love with a big ugly, magnificent beast of a master and became his slave. I understood before I agreed to give myself to him it was one of his requirements, so I learned to like it because I loved him. It’s not so far out when you get used to the idea. No harm done. Forget about it,” he said.

But I couldn’t. It was just disgusting to me. Could one man love another so much he’d do that to please him and learn to enjoy it? I had to think about that one.

“Was Longhorn your family’s original name, Son?” Mr. Yates asked me trying to change the subject, because I was becoming embarrassed for being so stupid and naive.

“Naw, sir, Mr. Yates. My daddy didn’t tell me until I was eighteen he done changed our name before he went to Vietnam to keep his daddy from finding us. He hates his dad and from what I’ve heard he has every right to. His cousin told his son and me we couldn’t imagine what his daddy put him and his younger brother through when they’s growing up. I guess he was a Hell-fire, damnation, religious, right wing fundamentalist. He was very rigid in his beliefs, and the way he related to others,” I explained. The men shook their heads like they understood, and it was a damn shame. "My daddy done went and got my mom pregnant with me when he was only a kid not yet out of high school. It enraged his dad, but if that weren’t bad enough, he caught him and his buddy, Bubba Swansey, sucking each others dicks in the barn one afternoon,” I said.

There went up a big laugh from the men. It told me a lot about them. I noticed Mr. Claymore, who was sitting next to me, didn’t laugh. “What’d you say the man’s name was, Son?” he asked.

“Bubba Swansey,” I replied.

“Humm,” Mr. Claymore responded,“I’m sorry, Son, go on with your story.”

“My granddaddy threw my dad out and told him never to darken his door again. He wouldn’t have no sodomite living under his roof. My dad married my mom before he left for boot camp, but shipped her out to live with her aunt in a small town in Southern California outside San Diego about thirty miles. When he come home on leave he officially had his name changed to Longhorn so’s his daddy would never find him. The army also changed his name and sealed his records so no one would know his previous name. My dad’s little brother told his dad he was just like his older brother but he left his old man before he could throw him out; however, not before he roped, hog tied his dad, and made love to him against his will.”

“Woah!” a few of the men responded. “That’s heavy,” Mr. Claymore said.

“He done went and joined the Marines the next week, was sent to Nam, and killed the first couple of months he was there. I never got to know him. My daddy told me I look like a double for his little brother. Our cousin, Rance, told me dad’s little brother, Seth Quee, had the same color eyes and the same size dick as me.”

“You don’t mean Rance Harding what’s ramrod of the Lone Star Rough Stock company?” Dan Yates asked me.

“Yes, sir, it’ud be him. His boy Dwayne and I grow’d up together. We's the same age,” I said.

“Son of bitch, it’s a small world, but it’s even smaller in the rodeo world. Their company’s provided the rough stock for every major rodeo in this area for the last ten years. We done met Rance Harding several times. We know him well. He’ll probably be here this year. He’s been to the ranch here a couple of times, and damn it, I knew I’d seen violet eyes on a man before. They were Rance Harding’s. You remember Rance, Cowboy?” Dan asked his partner.

“Yes, sir. Fine looking man. Damn good cowboy, too,” Cowboy allowed.

“Yes, sir. He’s got ‘em, too, but his boy didn’t. My granddaddy has ‘em, he give ‘em to his youngest boy, but my daddy ain’t got ‘em,” I said.

“Rance told me and Cowboy, over a beer one night, the story of how they run in his family. I won’t say nothing about it here, because you might not want it known what your original name was,” Dan Yates said.

“Thanks, Mr. Yates, I appreciate your thoughtfulness and consideration,” I replied.

I saw Titus leaning over and whispering something in Mr. Claymore’s ear. “Naw, ain’t a snowball’s chance,” Waddie said to Titus.

“Trust me,” I heard Titus reply.

There was other conversation around the pool and a few told outrageous stories about a big biker named Beryl and two elephants they kept at the ranch for several years. Mr. Claymore leaned over to me and spoke directly into my ear so none of the rest would hear. “Would you like the company of an older cowboy/ biker this evening to share yore’ bed, Son?" he asked.

“I’d be honored and downright proud, Mr. Claymore, but I have to be honest with you, sir. I ain’t never been with no other man but my dad, my two cousins, and my little brother. I hope I won’t disappoint you, sir,” I said.

“I doubt seriously you could disappoint me, Son. I’d be more afraid of disappointing you,” he replied.

“I don’t think so, sir. For a mature man you look pretty damn good to me. I have ta’ be honest with ya,’ sir, my cock’s got a mind of its own. It's always hard when I’m around you," I told him. He laughed, put his big arm around me, and pulled me closer.

“Mature man? Them’s nice words, Son. How do you want me to dress, cowboy or biker?” he asked.

“Biker, please, sir. I want me a closer look at them pants of yorn. I can see you as a cowboy tomorrow,” I replied. Mr. Claymore grinned and nodded like he understood my request.

“I know from what I’ve seen here tonight you have to be a master; right, Mr. Claymore ?” I asked.

“That’s right, Casey, but chu’ don’t have to worry none about that. Whatever we do will be man to man; one on one. You have nothing to fear from me. I don’t want nothing unusual from you, certainly nothing you ain’t comfortable with. I’d like to make a little love to ya’ and fill that sweet cowboy butt of yours,’” he allowed.

“Wow! Sounds good to me, Mr. Claymore. I been run'n a quart low. Thank you, sir. Whenever you’re ready, let me know. I’ll go to my coach and wait for you,” I said.

“You go along when you're ready, and I’ll be there directly, Son,” he said.

After more conversation, I excused myself, told my hosts I’d been driving all day, and I’d like to get some rest. I thanked Mr. Yates and Cowboy for their hospitality, and I told them how much I appreciated it. I said a special thanks to Griz in my mind. He smiled and nodded at me. I got out of the pool, toweled myself dry, walked into the house, put my clothes on, gathered my personal items and walked to the double ‘R.’ Thirty minutes later there came a knock on my door. I open it and there stood before me a fine looking mature biker in full leather. My heart leaped to my throat. I knew I made the right choice for the evening. Mr. Claymore was like a comfortable old pair of boots, or an old friend, someone from home I could relate to. Seeing him at rodeos for several years, I never imagined I’d ever get a chance to be up close and personal with the big man. I new I wanted to be held in his arms and made love to. Somehow, I just knew he knew how to do it. I turned the night latch so we wouldn’t be disturbed.

“This is real nice, Casey. I had no idea these things were this roomy and luxurious,” Mr. Claymore said.

“Thank you, sir. I call it the Rambling Ramada, or the Double R for short. Won’t you sit down. Can I take your jacket, sir?” I asked.

He took off his jacket and handed it to me. I almost dropped it. I wasn’t aware of how heavy it might be. It felt like it weighed a ton. I put it around one of two extra dining chairs. He sat with his legs apart, with his arm thrown back across the couch smiling at me.

“Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Claymore? I’m afraid I only have sodas,” I said.

“I’m fine, Son. Come sit by me,” he offered.

I walked over and sat down next to him. He put his big arm around me, pulled me into him, and kissed me gently. I returned his kiss with a little more passion. He responded in kind. I was running my hand over his leather shirt and everywhere I touched was a sea of leather, but he wouldn’t let me touch his crotch. I wanted to explore it and feel his maleness underneath. He gently moved my hand away and quietly told me to wait. I had an almost uncontrollable urge to get up close and personal with his pouch. I new it contained something I was going to enjoy, but he told me to wait. While I suspected it contained something warm and wonderful I was almost certain it wasn't a puppy. We broke off our kiss. “I was surprised when you asked me if I wanted company for the night, Mr. Claymore,” I said.

“Why’s that, Son?” he asked.

“I just assumed Mr. Titus was yore’ partner,” I replied.

“Naw, we’s jes’ road buddies. We’re the only two single men on our run, so it makes sense for us to pair up wherever we stay to save on expenses. I appreciate the thought though, it’s kind of a nice compliment. A man’s good looking and handsome as Titus would never consider bunk'n it in with a butt ugly old cowboy like me. I lost my mate about six years ago, and Titus lost his slave shortly thereafter," he explained.

“Then he’s a master like you, sir?” I asked.

“Well, it’s kinda hard to say, Casey. He was the slave of one of the most hard charging masters in our family, who was also one of the most colorful figures our family ever had for a member. His master took on a second slave with the understanding the young man would become a slave to both of them. It wasn’t as bad as it might sound. They both loved the young man very much, and he, in turn, worshiped them. They became surrogate parents for the boy. They taught him how to become a good slave and a better man. When Titus’ master died it was their understanding and his master’s wish, Titus would become a full-time master to their surviving slave.

"His name was Button. Titus did as his master ordered and became the boy’s master. He was Button's master for almost ten years until he passed away five years ago. So, its never been clearly defined what Titus might prefer now. We’ve all been together for so many years, no one would even think about pushing the man to make a choice. He’s never tried to take on another mate, but I know several men have offered to become his slave. He’s so good looking and masculine, he looks like a master; he acts more like a master than a slave. He keeps his body so fit he looks like a Marine Corps drill instructor. He could have any man he wants for a slave. On the other hand, he’s never said nothing about becoming a slave to a man again, either. I just assume Titus still wants to be a master. We known each other over thirty years. We’s good friends, but we’re not close enough to discuss his personal life. I don’t know if he has any interest in that sort of thing.

"I ain't got no room to talk. It’s been six years since my slave died, and I ain’t had the heart to even think about sex let alone take another mate. I’ve had offers, but I just can’t seem to bring myself to go with anyone. You may not believe this, but you’re only the second man I’ve been with since my mate died. The other was some faceless guy I let suck me off in a dark corner of a bar in San Bernardino one night just to get my rocks off; however, there’s jes’ something about you, an innocence perhaps, I find very attractive, and you make one Hell of a fine looking cowboy, Son,” he said.

“I believe you and thanks, Mr. Claymore, but I don’t think you’re ugly, sir. You look like a man’s suppose to look to me. I’m more attracted to a man like you, Big Jim, Chief, or Griz than I would be your road buddy, Cowboy, or the man they call Beau. Blaine? I’d have to think about him some,” I said.

“Well, thank you, Son. That’s a nice thing to say.”

“I know it may sound like a stupid question, sir, but what is the purpose of the pouch on your pants, sir?” I asked him.

“It’s called a cod piece, Son, and it’s basically so I can have sex without having to remove my boots and leather pants. If a man or slave offers me a blow job I don’t have to undress. I just pop the snaps and let it all hang out. I can also fuck a man in my leather pants with my boots on. It just makes on-the-go sex for a nomadic biker easier. It’s also a lot cleaner when I wear leather pants. I don’t care how many times a man shakes his penis after take’n a piss there’s always a small amount that dribbles down his pants. If I dribble in the cod piece, and I always do, I can jes’ pop it off and wash it. Some slave boys enjoy cleaning their master's cod piece with their tongue. Either way, my leather pants don’t end up smelling like a billy goat.

“That sounds reasonable. I can understand that. Maybe we should all wear them. May I ask one more question, sir?” I asked.

“You wanna’ know about the patch what covers my asshole and why it has snaps on it?” he asked in reply.

“Yes, sir,” I said meekly, kinda embarrassed.

“What da’ ya’ think it’s for, Son?” he asked and grinned at me.

“For a man to make love to your asshole, Mr. Claymore?” I asked.

“Damn, you’re right, Son, but how’d ju’ know? You ain’t been around the block that many times to know that sort of thing.”

“My daddy kissed and ate my clean ass before he took me the first time on my eighteenth birthday. I had to ask him to stop because I almost came. I had an idea that’s what it was for, I jes’ wanted to confirm it for myself. I didn’t think it would be for taking a shit in your leathers,” I explained.

“Well, it could be used for that, I suppose. I don’t like to, but a couple of times on the bike I had to go real bad in the middle of no wheres. I didn’t want some critter sneaking up and bitting me on the butt, so I used it then. Any biker who lives on his bike most of the time will carry a roll of toilet paper in his saddle bags in case of emergency. Then I cleaned my pants real good after I got to where I's going,” he said.

“What I can’t understand, sir, is why I have such a strong urge to get between your legs, make love to your cod piece, and feel you grow underneath. Do you ever allow anyone to do that, sir?” I asked innocently.

“Once in a great while, if a man asks me right nice,” he replied and grinned real big like a cat what was about to eat the canary.

“Mr. Claymore, I’d be downright proud and honored, sir, if you’d allow me to make love to your cod piece,” I said.

“That’s nice enough, but you must take yore’ clothes off first. I never allow a boy to make love to my cod piece unless he’s naked," he replied.

“Yes, sir. That’s understandable. I ain't got me no problem being naked with you, sir,” I assured him. It seemed reasonable enough to me. I turned to go to my bedroom to undress.

“No, Cowboy, take your clothes off here, in front of me, so’s I can watch,” he ordered and smiled.

Something in the tone of his voice told me not to argue with him, but his firmness made my dick get instantly hard. Dad would talk rough to me, growl at me, and order me around sometimes in his bossman’s voice. My penis always got roaring hard when he did, and he knew it. He'd laugh at me. He did it sometimes just to see if he could still make me pop a boner. It always worked. “Yes, sir, Mr. Claymore!" I replied crisply.

I quickly undressed in front of him and laid my clothes over the same kitchen chair I hung his jacket on. I was careful I didn’t bend over with my butt towards him. I didn’t want him to discover my plug quite yet. I hoped it wouldn’t upset him, or he would look upon it as weird. I know Griz told me he wouldn't be upset with it, but you never know. I stood before him naked as a jay bird, but somehow, I didn’t feel the least embarrassed. I felt an unspoken connection with him all ropers feel for each other. It’s sort of like a brotherhood. We’re just comfortable with one another. I felt it was meet and right for me to be naked in front of the big man.

I felt it was my place to be naked before him. He looked me up and down and smiled at my erection. My cock was roaring hard. Seeing him in his leathers didn’t cause it to relax a bit. I wondered how big his penis was? He got into the pool before me but left after I did. I didn’t get a chance to see his cock. I went to him and knelt in front of him looking at my prize. Up close his cod piece was big. It was big enough to hold a good size penis and a heavy set of balls. I didn’t just start making love to it. I knew instinctively, with this man I should pull out my best manners and dust them off.

“Mr. Claymore, sir, may I make love to your cod piece, and show my body's hunger for what lies beneath?” I asked.

“It was polite of you to ask, Boy, and because you were so courteous, ‘yes,’ you have my permission to make love to my cod piece,” he replied.

I started into kissing it all over and thought to myself, ‘This ain’t gonna’ get it. I want to taste the damn thing. It looks and smells wonderful. He smells like a man should. He smells like my dad after a hard day in the saddle. I sometimes feel like I could eat my dad he smells so damn good to me. I knew damn well I’d eat Mr. Claymore’s cod piece, piss dribbles and all, if he let me.’

“May I clean it with my tongue, sir?” I asked.

“I’d be proud for you too, Young Man. Enjoy it, taste it all you like. Just remember, courtesy and manners will take you far in life and most times get chu’ what chu’ want,” he replied.

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

I didn’t waste anytime licking and cleaning his big cod piece. I could taste the leather. I could taste and smell his maleness through it. It became terribly erotic to me. I could feel his penis begin to grow underneath, and I knew I wasn’t going to be disappointed. Master Waddie had a big cock. He began to get hard and the more I licked, cleaned, and probed with my tongue the harder he became. I discovered how his balls were lying in the pouch and began to push them around with my tongue as I continued to clean. This was going way beyond sensual. This was bordering on tripping my come switch. Mr. Claymore was getting harder until the head of his big cock began to poke out the top of his cod piece. I could see the beautiful head of his uncircumcised penis. It reminded me of a jack-in-the-box filmed in slow motion. The more I licked and cleaned the further out the top of his cod piece it stuck. I really worked hard covering every inch of his pouch with my tongue.

“You’ve made fine love to my cod piece, Son. Would you like to remove it for me?” he asked.

Yes, sir, Mr. Claymore, I’d be honored, sir,” I replied.

“You must not remove it with your hands. You may only use your mouth. Run you tongue under one of the snaps, grab the corner in your teeth and pull it off. It’ll snap right off. After you remove it, hold it in you mouth until I put my hand under it then you may let it drop into my hand. Do you understand, Boy?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Claymore, I understand, sir,” I replied.

I felt very carefully ran my tongue under one of the top snaps, found the corner, grabbed it with my teeth, and pulled back. He was right, it snapped right off. He put his hand under it, and I dropped it into his hand. There he sat with his big cock and balls completely exposed surrounded and framed by the black leather of his pants. His cock was a bit longer than the Longhorn but not as fat. My dick didn’t look like a regular man’s dick anyway. It looked like a missile or a torpedo. Mr. Claymore’s cock, looked like a man’s penis should. It was beautiful to behold. He was semi-erect but not hard.

“Some men like to clean the inside of my cod piece to get some of my stronger flavors from it. I told ju’ I wouldn’t ask anything of you out of the ordinary and cleaning the inside of my cod piece might be a little advanced for you. It might be thought of as out of the ordinary. It’s up to you, Son,” he said.

Oh, God, I wanted to please this big man in the worst way. It would make me happy to please him. It would make me feel so damn good to please him. I knew it probably contained his pre-come and several other body fluids an hour ago I found disgusting to think about. Why was I feeling this way? I didn’t care what body fluids were on the inside of his cod piece, I had to clean it and taste his strong masculine flavors. I longed to make even a small part of him mine.

“I would be honored to clean the inside of your cod piece, Mr. Claymore,” I heard myself saying.

He simply handed it to me. “Here, Son, hold it to your face and cover you eyes, nose, and mouth. Don’t pull it away until you think you’ve done a good enough job cleaning it for me. Do you understand, Boy?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Claymore. Thank you, sir,” I replied.

I didn’t say any more but plunged my face into the darkness of his cod piece. It easily cover my face and I took a deep breath. Damn, there was nothing foul or distasteful about the odor of his cod piece. It smelled like him, and I greedily began to suck and clean the inside of his male pouch. I must have licked, cleaned, and sucked his good flavors out of his cod piece for fifteen minutes or so until I felt I couldn’t get more. I slowly and regrettably took it away from my face to see him with a pleased smile on his face and his big cock in his hand slowly stroking himself.

“Did you get all you needed, Son?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, and thank you, Mr. Claymore, sir. I’ve never done anything like that before, but it was a treat, sir. I enjoyed it very much,” I replied.

I handed him back his cod piece, and he set it on the sofa beside him. “I’m glad ju’ did, Son. I don’t wanna’ do anything you wouldn’t enjoy. That’s not my purpose being with you this e'nin. My purpose is to give you as good an experience as I can while being gentle but controlling. If I’m gonna’ take something from you tonight I wanna’ make damn sure you enjoy giving it up to me. Are you enjoying me telling you what and how to do these things?" he asked.

“More than anything I’ve experienced in a while, Mr. Claymore. Is this the way a master treats his slave, sir?” I asked.

“Pretty much, Son. A real master ain’t out to hurt no one. He’s controlling because it’s his nature, and he would only try to be controlling with another man who consented to his controlling him. I tried a couple of things with you to see how you might respond, and you responded favorably. You seemed to enjoy me taking charge of the situation, and you’re very eager to please. That’s good, Son,” he complimented me.

“Yes, sir, I’ve enjoyed it very much, Mr. Claymore. Its been wonderful so far. I don’t mind if you tell me what to do at all. It takes the fear of doing something wrong or something you might not like away from me. If I do what you tell me, within reason, I know I’ll please you. Is that right, Mr. Claymore?” I asked.

“That’s exactly right, Son. I won’t ask you to do nothing you don’t wanna’ do. Shall we continue?” he asked.

“Yes, please, Mr. Claymore, I'd very much like to experience more of your control, sir," I replied innocently.

End Chapter 25 ~ Texas Longhorns
Copyright ~ © ~ 2005 ~ 2016 ~ Waddie Greywolf ~ All Rights Reserved
Mail to: Waddie Greywolf <waddiebear@yahoo.com>
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03/18/2005
09/24/2016