TEXAS LONGHORNS
By Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 35

We made good time getting back. We got back around eight-thirty in the evening. We were almost home by the time I came around from my brief side trip. I felt good knowing my master and Titus were bonding. I had a warm glow about me, feeling appreciated and included by Gip and his wonderful family. They made me feel like I belonged. Cindy and the Claymore girls prepared a light supper and were waiting for us. They didn’t know exactly what time we’d get in so they ate earlier. The three of us ate as we told Cindy and her daughters about our weekend. Cindy didn’t ask about anymore visits from my uncle. I don’t think she wanted to know. Gip confirmed later, it really spooked her to hear about such things, and it made her uncomfortable.  

Even though it was early evening, we were three tired buckaroos. We rodeoed hard all weekend and the drive back was a grind. We unloaded the ponies, put them away in the barn and fed them before we came to the house for supper, but we still had to put our saddles and tack away and get the horses settled in for the night. I figured after that I was going to be ready to hit the hay. From the slow speed the sheriff and his boys were moving I figured they were as tired as I was. I bid them goodnight and walked to my coach. Gip, Little Gip, and Buck returned to the house. I walked into the Double R and threw my stuff on the sofa. It was good to be home, even if it was as simple as a motor-coach, it was still my space. It had my aura within it. I marveled to myself I was beginning to become more sensitive and aware of things like that than ever before. Was my urgency and passionate need to help my uncle unlocking new things within me? My visit to Master Waddie and Titus was pretty spectacular.

I quickly undressed and showered. I thought about cleaning myself and thought, ‘what the Hell,’ so I did and inserted my plug. I knew, even as tired as I was, I’d toss and turn all night and not sleep well without it. I had a feeling the next day was going to be a lot of work. Out of habit, I locked the door to the Double R and crawled into bed. I hadn’t changed the sheets from the last time the sheriff paid me a visit and his wonderful, powerful, masculine smell was still strong. I inhaled deeply, thought about my handsome new slave brother paying homage to our master’s boots and my cock got roaring hard. I was so tired I didn’t want to jack-off, but damn it, I was so horny. It was a hot Texas night, and I had the windows open on the double R. My bedroom is situated on the very back of the coach with windows on either side for ventilation. I heard someone walking outside and set up in bed.

“Pssst, Casey!” I heard the voice of Gip Jr.

“Yeah, what’s up, Bro?” I asked.

“Don’t wanna’ push or nothing, but I’s jes’ wonder’n if’n you might like a little company this evening?” he asked.

“Sure, Bro, I’ll meet chu’ at the door,” I replied.

I thought it was funny, how I should be so horny and Little Gip just happened to be outside the window of the Double R. I laughed to myself and heard a wee small voice in my head. << Don’t go look’n no gift horse in the mouth, Cowboy, >> Giggled Little Bit.

<< You rascal, >> I gently teased him.

<< Can I stick around for a while? >> he asked.

<< Yeah, but not for long. If’n we do anything, it’s gonna’ be a quickie, ‘cause I’m dead tired, >> I replied.

<< Ole Bubba done ripped you a new asshole, huh, Big Brother? >> he asked and roared with laugher.

<< He shore’ ‘nuff did, Little Brother, that giant/economy size buckaroo was an awesome fuck; industrial strength, >> I replied and shared a laughed with him.

I got to the door, unlocked it and there stood Little Gip with his hat in his hand. He looked a little sheepish like it was his first time at a whore house, and he didn’t quite know how to act. Again I heard another bit of raucous laugher.

<< Whore house, indeed, >> chided my dear little brother, << On wheels no less, >> he added.

<< Hesh up, Little Bro! >> I scolded him and laughed at his nonsense.

“Come on in, Brother,” I urged little Gip.

Little Gip nervously entered and stood for a minute looking at me in the raw. I took his cowboy hat, threw it across the room to the chair, opened my arms to him, and we embraced. I could feel him growing strong in his Wranglers, then I felt his hand gently reach down to grab himself a big ole handful of the ‘longhorn.’

“Damn, Casey!” he exclaimed, “I know’d we seen each other in the raw when we’s swimming in the creek, but...”

“Aww, don’t let it scare ya,’ none, Brother. Worst it can do is spit at cha,’” I said and we laughed, “C'moan into the bedroom, shuck off your clothes, and get in bed. I’m really tired, and I know you must be,” I said.

“Yeah, but for some reason I’s horny as Hell. I’s jus’ hope’n you was, too, and we’uns could help each other out. I got to think'n, share'n a little love with ma' brother would beat the Hell out a' wacking off,” he allowed.

“I agree, Bro. Shuck off them cloths, and let’s us git to it. Cowboy up!" I declared.

Little Gip cleaned up in the big house before he went to bed, and he smelled wonderful. After a brief bit of romantic foreplay, we began to go to it hot and heavy. We decided to suck each other off and assumed the sixty-nine position. Naturally, little Gip discovered for himself my plug which immediately stopped our play.

“What’n the Hell is ‘zat!” he asked

I explained to him, but I didn’t know if we were going to continue or not. He was wowed, tickled, and as curious as a cat on coffee. Finally, after he felt around it quite a bit, I talked him into popping it out and shoving it back in. He was even more taken aback by its size, and when he popped it back in, he almost fainted, but after a little proselytizing, I think I finally convinced him of the utilitarian way of seeing things, and he had to admit, as well as being sexy as Hell and a giant turn-on for him, it might have its practical applications. Finally we resumed our play and being a cowboy from his dad’s mold, he wasn’t shy about anything. He quickly learned, fucking me with my plug while he was sucking on me was a quick way to bring me to climax, and it had the added value, it just might save his jaw from being partially dislocated. It was only one more goodly reason for his conversion to utilitarianism. He took full advantage of it, and we shot almost at the same time.  

Gip Jr. rolled on his back in satisfied exhaustion. “Can I hear a big ‘amen’ for utilitarianism, Brother?” he exclaimed like a preacher in a bully pulpit as he patted my plug one more time.

“Amen, to that, Cowboy,” I answered fervently. We cleaned up and lay there for a while talking before falling asleep in each others arms.

“Glad you’re here with us, Bro. ‘Preciate ya’ letting me bunk it in with ya’ this evening,” he said.

“Glad you dropped by,” I replied and laughed, “You gotta’ git back or can you stay for the evening?” I asked.

“No, I ain’t gotta’ be back. Dad don’t care, and mom won’t ask me no questions. She might giggle and pat me on the butt, but that’s about it. Ruby Rose and Linda Sue know better’n to say anything, but if’n you’d be more comfortable, I can walk back to the house,” he said.

“Nonsense! Don’t be silly! I’s jes’ think’n ‘bout you, Bro,” I said.

“The only thing I can think on what might be a problem is my little brother’s likely to come a’ knock’n at chore’ door,” Little Gip said.

“I thought he was a little more uptight about that sort of thing,” I said.

“I think dad’s kinda brung him around to being a little more loose about things,” we laughed at his double entendre.

“Now cut that out, Cowboy. Yore’ little brother’s welcome in my coach anytime,” I said.

“I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. It’s jes’ I hope my little brother’s a bit more sharing with me. He’s got the finest ass I done seen on a cowboy ‘til you come along, Case,” he admitted.

“No finer’n yours, Bubba,” I laughed at him reaching back to tease his manhole a little.

“Now, cut that out or you’s gonna’ have to follow though with yore’ teasing, Cowboy,” he said.

“Not tonight. We’s both too damn tired. Gimme’ a big sloppy buckaroo kiss and let’s us ride of into the sunset together,” I said in my best cowboy lingo.

Little Gip laughed and gave me a good kiss, one that lasted me through the night.

* * * * * * *
The next thing I heard was my coffee maker going off the next morning. I got up, got dressed, and let Little Gip sleep until the coffee finished making. I took him a cup and set it on the night table beside the bed. He rolled over and threw an arm around my waist.

“Oh shit! Don’t tell me it’s morning already,” he groaned, “C’moan back to bed, Cowboy. Let’s us stay in bed all day and save the cowboy’n for tomorrow,” he groaned.

“Git chore’ lazy buckaroo butt up outa' that bunk, Pod’na’! I done brought chu’ a cup a’ coffee. H'it so strong you gotta' chew it three times before you take a swallow. We’uns gotta’ get up to the big house to help our ma fix breakfast,” I drawled.

He struggled to sit up, and I handed him his coffee. He took a sip and grimaced because it was so hot. “Ain't no doubt, mom really does think on you as one a’ her boys, Case," he said.

“I couldn’t love her or your dad more, Gip, they’s been s’damn good to me. I owe ‘em a lot. Since I lost my mom when I’s jest a kid, it feels real good to be considered part of a family again. That’s why you need to git chore’ ass in gear. Ma Claymore might need some help, and I damn well plan to be there to give her a hand,” I said.

“Gip took another pull on his coffee, and got up to put on his clothes. It was still dark in the coach, but the dawn of a new day was just breaking over the horizon. I could see in the dim light just how handsome and sexy Little Gip was. He got the better parts from both his fine looking parents and made a knock out cowboy. Waddie Buck, on the other hand, was a carbon copy of his dad, his granddad, and from pictures they showed me, his great granddad.

* * * * * * *
I threw my arms around Little Gip's shoulders and he threw his around mine as we left my coach. We were laughing and talking quietly as we got to the house. No one else was in the kitchen as we came in. Cindy raised an eyebrow and smiled at us. She wasn’t going to ask any questions. “I bunked it in with my brother last night, Ma,” Little Gip went to her, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and headed for the coffee.

“That was brotherly of you, Gip. I know Casey probably gets lonely out there by himself,” she giggled mischievously, “Where’s my kiss from my other boy?" she asked.

I smiled, gave her a quick kiss on her cheek, and took the coffee Little Gip poured for me. “Can we help, Ma Claymore?” I asked.

Cindy put us to work and soon the rest of the family came into the kitchen one by one. The sheriff smiled to see Little Gip and me up early to help Cindy. He knew in a minute Little Gip stayed the night with me, ‘cause he knew his boy wouldn’t be up this early by himself.

“Glad to see our new boy’s a good influence on you, Son,” he whispered to Little Gip and chuckled.

“He is at that, Dad, a mighty fine influence,” he shot back, and they shared a laugh.
 
* * * * * * *
The day wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be, although we worked steadily until the sheriff rode out to get us. The days began to fly by, and I began to settle into a comfortable routine with the Claymores. Little Gip was right, Waddie Buck finally made it back to the Double R a couple of times. The Claymore men were very respectful of my personal time and usually never came back to my coach unless they were invited. The boys also respected their dad’s time with me and never said anything about it. It was almost like I was back home with Dwayne, Logan, and my dad. The Claymore boys and I made one more trip down to Bubba’s and spent the weekend rodeoing with him, his boys, and O.C. Harris. We had a great time. I got to know Mr. Harris a lot better and invited him to stay with me if he came to the Claymore ranch one weekend with Bubba and his boys. He smiled knowingly at me. He knew if I’d been bunking it in with Bubba, we probably were doing a lot more than just playing scrabble.

“I’m sure I’d enjoy that, Casey,” he said sincerely.

* * * * * * *
Mr. Harris did make it up to the Claymore ranch with the Swanseys the last weekend before I was due to report to the ranch that next Monday morning; however, something unexpected happened. It just happened to be Curtis Langtry’s weekend off from the ranch and the sheriff invited him, Brett Hall, and Curt Moss to the ranch for the weekend. Gip called home to let me know in case I wanted to wear my contact lenses. I thanked him later. It was great to see my granddad again, but until I let him know I was his grandson I forced myself to think on him as Mr. Curtis Langtry, foreman of the Lazy 8 ranch. He was more than a little pleased to see me again, I could tell; although, he tried to be as reserved and dignified as possible. Still, the telltale signs were there. Everyone else noticed, too. Brett and Curt were all over me telling me how anxious they were for me to come work with them. They were also very grateful to the Claymore’s for inviting them out for the weekend. They told me he never said as much, but they knew Mr. Langtry was anxiously looking forward to me coming to work for him. They told me he was very impressed with me and told the other cowboys about me. The Langtry, Texas contingent arrived a couple of hours after the sheriff brought home the men from the Lazy 8, although they were just in time for supper.

Gip laughed and had another choice comment. “Damn that Bubba, I don’t know how he does it. He always arrives right at chow time,” Gip roared with laughter. “Ain’t never know’d that man to miss a meal,” the sheriff declared. We laughed with him. For all his kidding with and about Bubba, Gip was always genuinely happy to see Bubba, and his boys. He was also pleased and honored Mr. Harris could make it up for a visit. Mr. Harris was a little taken aback by my blue eyes, but he didn’t let on a bit. He already greeted my granddad and the men from the Lazy 8. He raised an eyebrow at me as he opened his arms to me. He gave me a big bear hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You got the purttiest damn blue eyes I think I ever did see on a cowboy, Son,” he chuckled, “If’n I didn’t know better, I’d think they was natural,” he whispered to me.

“Thanks, Mr. Harris. I’s afraid they might not look quite right,” I confided.

“Naw, they be fine, Son. ‘Sides, I see ya’ let chore’ facial hair grow back a bit,” he chuckled again as he draped his arm around me to walk with me, “On you, it looks good. Makes ya’ look like a tough hombre out of the old West,” he said. We shared a laugh.

I took Mr. Harris’ bag from him and started to lead him to my coach. He stopped me. “I don’t mind bunk’n it in with the other men in the barn, Son. I don’t think you was expecting Mr. Langtry to be here,” he said.

“I don’t care about that, if’n you don’t, Mr. Harris. If’n Mr. Langtry’s gonna’ get to know me, I ain’t a’ gonna’ hide nothing from ‘em. I invited you to stay with me, and I ain’t back’n out of my offer jes’ ‘cause he’s here. I’d very much like for you to bunk it in with me, Mr. Harris. ‘Sides, what kind of cowboy would I be if’n I was to go back on my word,” I grinned at him wickedly. O.C. Harris smiled and looked at me like he wanted to kiss me right then and there in the worst way, but decided the better part of a good cowboy's manners was discretion. He was right. He figured he’d wait until we were alone. I didn’t want him to have to wait too long either.

“In that case,” he smiled, “lead the way, Son, and don't spare the boot leather,” he said quietly. It didn’t escape the notice of any of the men I was taking the handsome mature cowboy to my coach. There was a lot of knowing smiles, winks, and grins exchanged, but nothing was said. If my granddad wasn’t there, I have no doubt Bubba and the sheriff would’ve been bouncing some choice comments off each other. We arrived at the Double R, I open the door for Mr. Harris, and motioned for him to enter. I followed with his duffel bag and set it on the floor. The next thing I knew I was in Mr. Harris’ arms engaged in a more than brotherly kiss. O.C. Harris wasn’t holding back his affections. I reckoned I was pretty damn fond of him, too, so what was the sense in either of us being coy or holding back. I returned his kiss with equal passion.

“Damn, I been want’n ta’ do that since I laid eyes on you, Casey,” he said sincerely.

“I'd be a damn liar if'n I's to say I ain’t shared them feelings, Mr. Harris,” I smiled at him.

“Blue eyes or not, you still look so much like yore’ uncle, it’s like I was hold’n him in my arms again,” he allowed.

Nothing more was said as he proceeded to kiss me one more time. I could feel him growing strong in his Wranglers and the ole ‘Longhorn’ was growing just as fast. He reached his hand down to my crotch and felt me.

“Damnation, Son, you’s jest as big as yore’ uncle was. Bubba and Vince told me he got it from his daddy. Ain’t never seen Mr. Langtry, but I hear tell there’s damn few ponies what’s hung as well as him,” he allowed.

After we shared another intimate moment, I suggested we return to the house as I knew Cindy would be waiting supper for everyone. I helped prepare it and get everything ready. We walked back to the big house with Mr. Harris’ arm around my shoulder. Everyone else was there when we arrived and no one missed the wet spots at the crotch of our Wranglers. Once again nothing was said, but there were a lot of knowing smiles. My granddad even smiled. Talk was lively around the table and supper was wonderful. I helped clean up the table and wash the dishes with Little Gip and Waddie Buck. We had lots of help and were finished in no time. We left the older men and Cindy to sit around the table and talk. Afterward we moved to the yard under the big oak trees Gip’s dad and granddad planted many years ago. No one wanted to rodeo. It was still pretty warm and Bubba decided to let the ponies rest from their hot ride in the trailer. There were lots of things talked about, but I didn’t say much. I was content to sit close to Mr. Harris and listen.

There was something about O.C. Harris which calmed my soul. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I know he knew and sensed it, too. I noticed my granddad watched us with great interest, but he tried hard not to be obvious. I began to wonder if a part of me, the spark my uncle gave me, was like a genetic memory. Did I genetically remember the love and comfort the two men shared in their youth? Was this what I was experiencing or was I just a common slut attracted to any good looking man wearing a decent pair of cowboy boots?  

<< Common, you ain’t! >> came a voice with much laughter in my mind, << I ain’t gonna’ comment on the ‘slut’ part. Oh, to Hell with it, of course I am, >> there was more laughter in my mind, << I got a feel’n it’s about fifty percent of your comfortable feelings about O.C., the other half is pure, unadulterated slut! >> I mentally winced at the wee small voice of my little brother laughing with glee at his observation. He allowed the ‘s’ in the word ‘slut’ to roll on for a while before he tacked on the ‘lut’ part.

<< You weren’t suppose to hear that, Little Bit, >> I smiled to myself and lowered my head so no one could see my face, << I suppose you’re right. I guess I am a slut, but damn it, Little Bit, there’s just some'um about Mr. Harris what’s more’n just a stiff dick reaction. I feel a connection with him, like he’s family or some'um, >>

<< I think your first idea was correct, Brother, >> allowed Logan in a more serious tone, << I think it’s very possible you inherited some of your uncle’s genetic memories; perhaps, closely akin to eidetic memory or more aptly ‘genetic Asperger’s syndrome,’ >> Logan laughed his ass off and I figured he was making a joke, but for the life of me, I had no idea what he was talking about. I just laughed, too, trying to seem as intelligent as possible. Then, as quickly as he tuned in, he was gone.

“What chu’ smile’n ‘bout, Cowboy?” Mr. Harris asked, put his arm around me, leaned close, and whispered in my ear.

“Aww, don’t know’s you’d understand, Mr. Harris; howsomever, it has to do with feelings I got about chu’ being part a’ my family,” I replied.

“Why don’t chu’ think I’d understand, Son? I felt like you’s a’ part of me since the first day I done laid eyes on you at Bubba’s. Not that you's the part I been missing all these years after the loss of my little brother, but definitely a connection. That feel’n ain’t never left me, and you being so caring about me, makes me feel all the more like part of you and your family. I think you’ve become part of a much greater family than just your loved ones back in California,” he said.

“C'ain’t gainsay that, Mr. Harris. I feel like the sheriff, his family, Bubba and his boys, and now you, are all a part of my new family. Of course, I didn’t tell you about meeting the sheriff’s dad and falling in love with him and his new mate.”

“Bubba done told me about that. Waddie Claymore’s a good man and a fine cowboy. He and his brother, Gip Justin, used to whip the pants off’n me and your uncle at rope’n. Yore’ daddy and Bubba never beat ‘em. S’far’s I know’d, no one could beat ‘em except a couple of the Crenshaw boys from down Bandera way, and that was only on a good day. I can understand how you might take a shine to him,” he said.

We turned our attention back to the main conversation around the group. Cindy made apologies for her and her girls to leave the men folk to talk on their own. It was just something country women did. They knew the men wouldn’t talk about certain things with them around. Cindy just wanted to give the men their privacy to talk freely.

“You going back to the ranch with us Sunday evening, Casey?” Brett asked.

“If’n it’s all right with Mr. Langtry, I will. Don’t see no need in asking the sheriff or his boys to carry me all the way out there when I can hitch a ride with you men,” I said.

“I’s kinda hope’n you would,” Mr. Langtry said, “We’ll be glad to have ya’ ride with us. Just bring your clothes, any personal items you need, and yore’ saddle. We got saddles you can use, but most cowboys like to use their own,” he said.

“Yes, sir, I got my old work saddle with me. I’s real comfortable with it. Is there any place to lock up valuables, sir?” I asked.

“Yeah, we got us a bobtail truck what follows us around the ranch. It’s built like a tank, and it can go any wheres. We got big individual lockers in it to store clothes, bedrolls, tents, and personal items. You lock it with your own combination lock and nobody can get into it but you,” Curtis replied.
 
I was happy with that and figured I could take my laptop and cell phone to be in communication with the Claymores and my brothers back home. I didn’t need to send Master Waddie, Titus, or the men at the Broken Arrow e-mails. I had my own built in e-mail. I really didn’t need it for my brothers either, I just thought it might come in handy. I already made arrangements with Gip and Cindy, I was going to tell my dad I was working for them, and if he needed to get in touch with me, he could reach me through them. They were understanding and thought it probably was a good plan. I called dad during the week before my last weekend with the Claymores to tell him about staying with them for a while. I told him I’d probably be rodeoing on the weekends with Gip and his boys. It wasn’t a lie because I would be working for Gip when I was there on my weekends off and no doubt would be rodeoing. Dad seemed to be pleased I’d found some good people I wanted to be around for a while.

* * * * * * *
Around eight o’clock, Cindy brought out some iced tea, lemonade, and a batch of baked goods for the men. It was a nice treat and everyone enjoyed having something to drink and something sweet to eat. Conversation continued until around nine when the sheriff decided he was going to get an early start to bed. He reckoned as how the next day was going to be a balls-out rodoeo day at the ranch, and as much as he tried to keep it quiet, he knew there would be a large crowd come from all over the county to watch or participate. Most of his men at the station were rancher-cowboys and if they weren’t on duty, they’d be there with their families, for sure. Gip was an easy going man. He didn’t care. He enjoyed all the folks and treated everyone like family. Mr. Harris and I excused ourselves and began to walk to the Double R.

We heard Bubba call to us, "Ya’ll have fun now, ya’ hear?” he grinned mischievously. All the other men smiled or laughed quietly.

“Thanks, Bubba, we plan to,” shot back Mr. Harris laughing as he dropped his big cowboy arm around my shoulder, pulled me close, and we continued on our way. We heard more laughter but nothing more was said. We got inside the Double R, and I offered Mr. Harris a drink. I told him I had a bit of Southern Comfort left over from Master Waddie’s stay with me. He surprised me by accepting my offer, and I decided to have a small one with him. I took a few sips of mine and was about to excuse myself to clean up when O.C. took me into his arms and kissed me tenderly. For a man who lived most of his life as a straight man, the old cowboy certainly knew how to make love to a man, and he wasn’t shy about it. He was about to pop my cork just making love to me, and I could feel him, once again, growing strong in his Wranglers.

I excused myself and left the bottle on the table for him to help himself. I quickly cleaned myself and wondered if I would scare the man to death with my plug. Most men found it handy and a turn on, so I decided to go with that thought and inserted it. I made up my mind I was going to leave it behind when I went to work on the ranch. I figured by the end of a full day working on the ranch, I wouldn’t need my anal pacifier to lull me to sleep. I reckoned I’d be out like a light in minutes after my head hit my bedroll. I didn’t try to hide myself from O.C. with a towel. I walked back into the living area fully nude. I almost lost it when I saw Mr. Harris’ reaction. His mouth dropped open like he was going to speak, but nothing came out. He couldn’t speak for a moment. He stood and opened his big arms for me to come to him.

I was in his arms in a flash, and we continued where we left off. I was so turned on by Mr. Harris, I started unbuttoning his Western shirt. That was the only invitation he needed. I led him to my bedroom and helped him off with his heavy buckaroo boots. After I helped him remove his Wranglers, I had a chance to see Mr. Harris as God intended him. For a man almost fifteen years older than me, he was in perfect physical condition and what hung between his legs was a fine example of God’s handiwork. O.C. was a cowboy to the bone. It didn’t matter which one you chose, but the one hanging between his legs spoke volumes. He wasn’t hung as large as some men I’d been with, but what his penis lacked in size, it made up for in sheer masculine beauty and pride. His cock was similar to my dad’s and Uncle Rance’s and was as handsome as the man who bore it. O.C. was one of the few men I ever been with who never seemed to lose his erection, even after ejaculation.

Most cowboy's cocks were close to my size or a bit smaller, and sometimes, were an effort of make love to and suck. Not so for O.C. Harris. He had one of the most suckable, tasty penis’ I ever found tucked away in the dark recesses of a cowboy’s Wranglers. When I caught sight of his manhood, my mouth started to water uncontrollably. I was drawn to his penis like a man who’d been lost in the desert on a horse with no name for several, very hot days. Mr. Harris was like a cool oasis offering much needed shade, refreshment, and comfort. I must have been the same for him. I can’t imagine he shared a bed with anyone since his wife passed away many years ago. He was like a starving man who suddenly found himself in front of a banquet. He told me later he felt like he rejoined his youth from years ago to touch, taste the goodness and feel the joy of being a young cowboy making love to his friend and brother once again. He almost brought tears to my eyes.

He had no problem with my plug, but he did get a good chuckle out of it. After he saw how handy it was, he was more impressed than amused. He certainly impressed me. I wanted to suck him off and almost did, but he was my guest, and he had other ideas. He wanted a piece of my cowboy butt in the worst way, and it was my turn to chuckle at his sincere need. Mr. O. C. Harris didn't need a second invitation to step up into my saddle. He was ready to come out of the shoot with the grandiose wild gusto of any bull rider who just settled himself in, waiting for the gate to open. The moment my gate was opened for him he began to ride me like I was the meanest bull on tour and he wasn’t about to let me throw him off. He wasn’t rough, but he was certainly strong in his determination.

The groans and sighs he was giving forth left me with no doubt this cowboy was enjoying his ride. It was as if he stored up his masculine needs to sexually express himself for just that moment in time. As I stated earlier, O.C. wasn’t hung as well as some men I’d been with, but in one respect he was like my dad. He was a man who knew how to appreciate a fine piece of cowboy butt and wasn’t about to let the opportunity for a good, hot fuck pass him by. A man like O.C. or my dad knew how to throw a solid fuck into a man that made him feel like they were fucking him with a damn telephone pole. I tried to hold back my own personal passion for his sake, but somehow sensed he was also like my dad in another way. He wanted and needed my feedback to let him know he was doing me some good.

“Oh, God, Mr. Harris. You’re fuck’n me so damn good! Take all you need, sir. I’ll keep feed’n my cowboy ass up to you as long as you can ride it,” I said.

“Holy shit, Casey! I imagined you’d be a fine piece of cowboy flesh to fuck, but had no idea you’d make me feel like this. Honest to God, Son, I ain’t felt this good fuck’n nobody since I fucked your uncle all them years ago. He was a fine fuck and a better man. I loved and enjoyed my wife, God rest her soul, but fuck’n a woman jes’ c'ain’t compare with a fine, tight piece of cowboy butt. Ole Bubba, he don’t kiss’n tell none, but I could tell from the silly grin he got on his face when I boldly ask him how you was in bed, he had no complaints. Oh, and by the way, Son, you can show me any respect you feel necessary outside this coach, but here, in your space, call me O.C. Any cowboy what can take a fuck’n like yore’ allow’n me has got my respect,” he said. Mr. Harris never missed a stroke the whole time we were talking. It was like he didn’t know exactly how much sack time he might have with me, and he wasn’t going to miss a moment of the ride. As good as he felt up my butt, I didn’t want him to miss a stroke.

“Thanks, sir. I’d be honored to call you ‘O.C.’; however, outside of here I’d jes’ be more comfortable calling you ‘Mr. Harris.’ I c'ain’t rightly put my finger on it, but somehow, you remind me so much of my dad. Even, right down to the way you be fuck’n me right now, feels like the way he fucks me. I suppose, that’s about the best compliment I could give a cowboy, O.C., ‘cause my old man gives me the best damn fuckings I ever had. Like my dad, you fuck me strong, hard, and determined to get the maximum pleasure for yourself, but by doing that, you know my greatest pleasure is giving you what you need to take from me. I miss my dad, but you fuck’n me like you be doing gives my heart a little feel’n of home,” I confided.

“That’s about the sweetest damn thing any man’s ever said to me, Casey, and ever’ thing you’ve said makes sense. Glad chu’ feel that a’ way, ‘cause I’m enjoying this ride too much to hurry on home to the barn.”

I knew the talk was over as O.C. settled back down into some fine, down-home, cowboy fucking, but every now and then I mentally spurred my rider on with a comment. I would again compliment him and beg him to fuck me harder; to ride me down hard like I was the meanest damn bronc he’d ever been on what had a burr under its saddle blanket. I would buck back to his hard thrust like I was trying my best to buck him off. It didn’t take him long to get into the spirit and O.C. began to fuck me with unbridled enthusiasm like I was the meanest, untamed buckaroo on the rodeo circuit.

Next time O.C. decided he needed another piece of cowboy butt, I was going to make damn sure he wore them big, heavy buckaroo boots of his. I wanted to experience the whole feeling of being righteously fucked by this seasoned cowboy. Before I left home, I got my old man to wear his pair of store bought legs with them big, buckaroo boots of his. I told him, if I could wear the plug for him, he could wear his boots for me. Surprisingly, my old man didn’t put up an argument. He just handed me his booted legs for me to help him with; oh, yes, and with a big shit eat’n grin on his handsome, cowboy face. At first I was concerned my dad might think my request was because I wanted him to be whole. Thankfully, my old man knew me well enough to know his stubs were just as big a turn on for me, but his big, heavy buckaroo boots were just too great a temptation. I aways got fucked good either way. My daddy knew how to take care of his boy and give him what he needed.

So it was, O.C. Harris was giving me exactly what I needed at that particular moment. He was hard fucking me relentlessly, opening me up like a damn prairie flower to his thrust, ever deeper and harder each time. I was about to move up the wall in back of my bed to get away from him. I was building up to climax too fast, and to my way of thinking, way to soon. I wanted a lot more of this cowboy’s brand of fucking. “If you don’t back off for a while, Cowboy, you’re gonna’ lose your good ride pert-damn quick. Yore’ about to ride your cayuse over the cliff!” I exclaimed.

“C'ain’t help it, Son, I got that barn in sight, and I'm about to ride ju’ home. C’moan, hoss, take us home, give it up for your cowboy, and he’ll git us both there.”

“You got it, pod’ner. Ride this old cayuse to the barn and don’t spare the leather.”

I gritted my teeth in determination as I pushed my body back down and under my rider, positioning my ass for his best access. No more words were needed. O.C. took me at my word and began to fuck me with a vengeance few men ever have. Damned if he wasn’t fucking me just like my dad would. It was uncanny, but to say I was enjoying it to the max would be an understatement.

“Oh, fuck!” he yelled, “I c'ain’t hold it no more, Son. I’m gonna’ shoot my load in your cowboy butt!” he exclaimed.

“Get it, Pod’na,’ C’moan, Cowboy. Show me what chu’ got, Stud. You done won this rodeo, now take your prize. Gimme’ all that stored up cowboy cream you got in them fine looking balls a’ yorn.' I’ll catch all you can pump into to me, Stud,” I urged him.

“Oh, God, Casey. I’m coming. Fuck, oh, fuck! It feels so damn good. I ain’t a’ gonna’ stop ride’n you, Hoss, until you shoot,” he growled.

That's all I needed to hear. I felt a whole shit load of come moving up through my body like it was coming from the depths of my soul. I started shooting in all directions. I shot all over the head board of my bed like a demented quick draw gun slinger shooting from the hip and his bullets were going everywhere. O.C. completely drained me before he even slowed his assault on my ass. It was one of the hardest climaxes of my young life. I got come all over me and over most of my cowboy rider as well. When O.C. was satisfied he got my last shot out of me and my body was vibrating from his continued, relentless hard fucking, he began to slow his efforts, but not completely. He knew it was an electric moment and he intended to get the most out of it for both of us. He eased back on his powerful strokes and easily slipped into a more loving, gently controlled fucking. He must have been trained by the best, he was almost as good as my dad.

“Thank you, O.C. for that damn good fuck’n,” I finally managed to get out. “Woah, dogies, Cowboy. I ain’t been fucked like that since I left home,” I complimented him on his ride.

“I should be the one thanking you, Casey. I couldn’t believe it when you asked me to share your trailer if’n we came this weekend to rodeo. I had to live with Bubba and his boys teasing for two weeks. They were good hearted about it. I didn’t say nothing, but they could tell I was excited and looking forward to it,” he said.

“Glad you were, and I’m more glad you decided to come with Bubba and his boys. I still c'ain’t get over how much like my daddy you seem to be,” I told him.

“Maybe that’s because yore’ daddy and Bubba taught me how to fuck. I’ll never forget it. Yore’ uncle was a’ pester’n me like a blowfly on a wet donkey to fuck ‘em. I turned him down because I never fucked anything or anybody. I played with myself, but my dad caught me one time and told me if’n I kept it up I’d go blind. I asked him if I could keep doing it until I needed glasses?” O.C. winked at me and we rolled on the bed in laughter, still hooked together. He was enjoying some good, slow, down home, gentle fucking in my ass. He continued, “My daddy done the same thing, he fell out laughing at me, but I knew he weren’t serious. It was jes’ something he made up to try’n keep me from abusing myself too much. It didn’t work, but I did worry ever’ time I had a hard time seeing the blackboard in school,” he allowed. He got me laughing again.

“Anyway, yore’ daddy and Bubba kidded me unmercifully about turning yore’ uncle down. They lied to me and told me he was heart broken. Hell, he was getting all he needed from Vince and Bubba, but I didn’t know about it. Since I was an only child, I was kinda naive. I didn’t have no older brother to tell me about such things, so yore’ daddy and Bubba sort a’ took me under their wings, so to speak, and became my big bros. Vince always was a good hearted man and sincere about most things, but damned if yore’ daddy didn’t have a twinkle in his eye. I asked him if’n he’d teach me about fuck’n. He asked me if I jes’ wanted him to tell me about it, or did I want him to show me how to fuck. I wasn’t real sure what he meant, but I went for the latter. Before I knew it, I had my clothes off, my legs in the air, and I was getting fucked by yore’ daddy. He told me the only way to show me how to fuck was for him to fuck me and teach me as he was fuck’n me. He was so sincere about it, I believed every word he said. I went along with it not realizing I was being had,” O.C. said and roared with laughter. We rolled on my bed again laughing at O.C.’s story. It had to be a true story, because it sounded just like something my dad might do.

He went on with his story, “As you know, yore’ daddy is one Hell of a fucker. He worked with me for a long time until he got me opened up. He never once hurt me, but when he really started fuck’n me, I thought I died and went to heaven. I couldn’t help myself. It was the best damn feel’n I ever experienced to that point, and I wanted to tell the world about it. Mr. Langtry and Seth were away, but I’m sure Bubba must a’ heard me carrying on all the way over to his folk’s place,” he said. By this time, I had tears rolling down my cheeks I was laughing so hard at O.C.’s story. “Next thing I knew, I was getting another, in-depth, fuck’n lesson from ole Bubba and even though he’s considerably bigger than your daddy, I was taking ever’ inch of his big cowboy cock and love’n it. I couldn’t get enough. After Bubba got though with me, Vince asked if I thought I’d learned enough or did I need anymore lessons?” We were racked with laughter. I didn’t know O.C. had such a good sense of humor and could laugh at himself. He was just like my dad in that respect. My dad has a wonderful sense of humor. He has to, to put up with me and my brother’s nonsense.

I urged O.C. to go on with his story. “I told your daddy, I learned a lot, but I thought I might need a few more lessons. In the back of my mind I was a’ pray’n I didn’t never pass their coarse in fuck’n.” We laughed again at his take on his fucking lessons from my dad and Bubba. “Them two cowboys fucked me regularly until one evening they decided they’d taught me just about as much as they could about fuck’n. They decided it was time for me to fly solo. Vince done told me, he weren’t gonna’ turn me loose on his little brother until he was satisfied I could fuck him decent and proper-like. The only way he could be sure was for me to fuck him and Bubba. Of course the two of ‘em were in cahoots and were having a ball playing with my head, but they were good sports, and I was enjoying the Hell out of the sex and their attention. I fucked chore’ daddy first. When I got my dick inside him and could feel him offer’n himself up to me, once again, I thought I died an went to cowboy heaven. To Hell with jack’n off. Having your dick inside somebody was a Hell of a lot more fun and felt better, too. Vince shot buckets while I was fuck’n him, and I never came so much in my life. When I got through, there was nothing but silence."

'Well, Pod’na,' Bubba drawled to Vince, 'Did that, there, tenderfoot give you a passable fuck’n?' he asked. Vince sighed deeply and just grinned from ear to ear.  'E’aup, right passable, Brother, downright passable,' he allowed. Damed if’n them two didn’t laugh their asses off at me. Bubba couldn’t wait to get his fuck’n. I didn’t know if’n I could do it. Bubba always was bigger'n us other boys, and I felt like a deer trying to mount a water buffalo. I done all right by yore’ daddy, but Bubba was another story,” O.C. said and laughed. I didn’t know if I could take much more of O.C.’s story, I was hurting so bad from laughing, but I urged him on. I had to hear the rest.

“Well, I learned me a good lesson that afternoon. Big men fuck jes’ as good as smaller men and in a few ways, better. Bubba weren’t a man to lay back and let you do all the work neither. When you fuck Bubba, you know you got a man on the end a’ yore’ ole hoss; same goes for your dad, yore' uncle, or you, for that matter. By the end of that afternoon, they let their hair down with me and told me what they done. They laughed their asses off. Hell, I couldn’t be mad at ‘em. They was more’n jes’ friends. We’d shared some pretty intimate moments, and I wouldn’t give anything for the bonding I did with them men that summer. I loved ‘em then, and love ‘em even more today. They became like family to me. Bubba still is, but I shore’ as Hell miss yore’ uncle and yore’ daddy?" O.C. lamented.

O.C. paused for a long moment and we shared a kiss. I thought he was never going to stop fucking me. I wasn’t complaining. I was riding one of the sweetest cowboy cocks in the whole of Texas. (no pun intended)

“Finally, your uncle asked me again to fuck him, and it was with pride and considerable confidence I accepted his invitation. After that afternoon with Seth, we became almost inseparable. We were both still fuck’n around with Vince and Bubba, but we didn’t talk much about what we was doing with each other. Somehow, that was special between us. I loved yore’ uncle, and I know he loved me. When he told me what he was gonna’ do, going off to join the Marines and all, it almost broke my heart. I begged him not to. I wanted him and me to settle down together and ranch. We talked about it for several years and now he was walking away, taking my dreams and my heart along with him. I understood how his dad was. I understood why he couldn’t stay there no more. I didn’t blame him none. It broke all our hearts when Mr. Langtry done what he done to Vince. Bubba wouldn’t speak ill of him. Hell, Bubba wouldn’t speak ill of no man, but I know in his heart, he hated Curtis Langtry for years.

"I stayed behind because I lost my dad in high school, and I was the only person to help my mother run the ranch. Being their only child, I was exempt from the draft. Then, when I heard my beloved brother was shot and killed over there, I almost went to pieces. They brought him home in a box and buried him down the road a ways from our place. They never even opened the casket so’s we could say goodbye to him. If’n it had’na been for Bubba, I wouldn’t a’ made it. Then, to make matters worse, we heard your dad was killed, too. After that, I lost all interest in sex with men. I tried messing around with Bubba a few times, but it jes’ weren’t the same. Over the years, Bubba and I got together about twice a year. We always seem to know when we need each other and one of us will call. Bubba has been my rock over the years, but so has yore’ granddad. After we got word your dad was killed, Curtis became a recluse. He was already hated by everyone in town, but then he turned his back on them. He wouldn’t have nothing to do with any of them. The only person he’d let visit him was me. He never did turn against me, but he did Bubba for quite a while, but after Bubba came back from Nam, it was a different story.

"I’d been dating a pretty little girl my last couple of years in high school, and I was falling in love with her. I was sexually attracted to her, but I wouldn’t do anything with her when we's courting. I told her if we did get together, I wanted it to be the first for both of us. I didn’t think what us boys did together was important to our situation. Curtis helped me realize that. After my dreams were shattered by the death of two of the most important people in my life, I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared Bubba wouldn’t make it back, I prayed to God like a demon with one foot in a lake of fire for Him to watch over, protect, and let my big brother come home to me. I remember lying in Bubba’s arms one night after he come home, crying my heart out telling him I was the only reason he made it home. I told him about talking to the Old Man morning, noon, and night. He was so touched we lay there and cried together. We let out a lot of built up frustration and garbage that useless war brought to all of us.”

O.C. began to be more interested in talking with me than fucking anymore and slowly withdrew his still rock hard penis. I got a damp towel and cleaned us, and then I asked him to put my plug back in for me. He got a kick out of that and had no problem satisfying my request. I told him why I wanted it returned, and he thought it was a great idea. As we lay in each others arms, I started him up again with his story with a question. “What made you decide to get married, O.C.? Did you talk with Bubba?”

“I did some. Bubba never has any hidden agendas. If’n he even has an agenda he’s totally up front about it. He told me we still had each other, and he didn’t plan on giving up my love. He still wanted and needed me, so why couldn’t we be like brothers? I could get married, but I didn’t have to give him up neither. It weren’t like we’d be cheat’n on our wives if’n we’s to get away by ourselves to go hunt’n or fishing together. Hell, Bubba’n me, we’s tighter’n lots a’ brothers. Since my dad died the summer before I entered high school, I went to yore’ granddad, after we buried yore’ uncle, and told him I needed a dad to talk with. I think that did more for Curtis than anything I ever done for him. He sat there and cried like a damn baby. I was brutally honest with him. I told him about my love for his boys, my love for Bubba and how mixed up I was. I knew in my heart I weren’t never gonna’ find nobody like them three men to settle down with. ‘Sides, Bubba was already married and had a kid by the time he returned.

"I wanted Curtis’s opinion about asking Annie to marry me. I thought I was gonna’ get me one a’ them long winded lectures with a lot of Hell fire’n damnation preaching about the vile, evil abomination of homosexuality and the unforgivable sinfulness in God’s eyes of two men sleeping with one another. He surprised the Hell out of me. He didn’t even wince when I graphically told him about me’n yore’ uncle’s sexual relationship. After I finished, he quietly told me a story I’ll never forget as long as I live.

"It seems Curtis Langtry and my daddy, were best buds growing up. He told me how their relationship grew and blossomed into more than just a friendship. He told me he couldn’t help himself, he fell deeply in love with my daddy, and they began to have sex with each other. I never imagined I would be hearing a story like this from Curtis Langtry. It was so bizarre, I hung on to his every word. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It explained a lot of things, like why my dad would allow me to be with Vince, Seth, and Bubba so much. He had a physical connection with them men, or at least, the Langtry boys. Bubba? Well, Bubba’s just Bubba. To know him is to love him.”

We agreed and shared a laugh. I urged him to go on. I was clinging to his every word and O.C. seemed to be finding a great release and almost a relief telling me his story.

"Curtis told me as he and my dad got older they talked about being together, but living in such a small community, it would be hard to hide their sexual attraction to each other. They decided to get married, live near each other but not give each other up, like Bubba suggested to me. I told him what Bubba told me, and Curtis agreed it could work. I was floored. It really was like I had a dad to talk with, and he was understanding about my problem. He went on to tell me it worked fine for him and my dad for a good while, and they were happy. Curtis married, and my dad was his best man at his wedding. Curtis was my dad’s best man at his wedding. After Curtis had Vince, things couldn’t have been better.

"They’d go off by themselves for a weekend to rodeo in another town and fuck their brains out when they weren’t rodeoing. They also supplemented their incomes with their winnings, so their wives didn’t complain. Everything was working out just fine. Until, one day there was this traveling evangelical preacher who come to town and put up a big canvas tent for revival services. As Curtis described him, the man was a weaseled faced little son of a bitch who had bad breath and combed his thinning hair until it was piled as high on his head as he could get it to make him look taller than he really was. You know cowboys have an old saying about the believability of preachers: the higher the hair, the closer to God.”  

O.C. paused for a minute as we laughed at his cowboy homily, then he continued, “The preacher’s hands were always cold and wet when he shook yours. Curtis said he wouldn’t shake your hand like a man should; he’d take your hand in his clammy little paw, then put his other hand on top of yours and just hold it, while looking deep into your eyes with his beady little rat-like eyes like he was looking into your soul for something good to eat. He’d get a self-righteous saccharine smile across his ugly pudgy face that looked like he had an insider’s knowledge of something you didn’t have a clue about. Curtis described him as being a thoroughly disgusting little man. He said he thought he was a phony from the first time he met him.

"Curtis hated him immediately and wanted nothing to do with him or his revival. He said the worst thing about the preacher was he made Curtis feel itchy all over like he’d given him scabies when he shook his hand. As Curtis told me the story, tears started running down his cheeks. He wasn’t crying as such, he just couldn’t seem to control the water leaking from his eyes. He paused for a long moment until he could get himself together, then proceeded to tell me my dad told him he was going with my mother to one of the meetings. My dad told Curtis he wasn’t particularly interested, but he wanted to keep peace in the family. I guess dad went and the preacher preached a Hell fire, damnation sermon about the wickedness and abomination of a man sleeping with another man as with a woman.

"According to Curtis, the oily little bastard scared my dad to death and got him to thinking about being eternally damned to a dark pit or a lake of fire. I guess my dad went to Curtis with his concerns and Curtis tried to reason with him. My dad would have none of it and eventually confessed his sins to the little bastard. The power hungry preacher went to Curtis and told him if he didn’t repent and confess his sins to him, he would be forever damned to Hell. Oh, yes, and there was one more little rider to Curtis’ forgiveness. He had to take a mortgage on his ranch and give it to the preacher as a love offering so he could continue God’s work saving other sinner like Curtis and my dad. If he didn’t, the preacher would tell their wives and their community about the men’s wicked ways.

"Curtis was rightfully devastated, but he loved my dad so much he figured he probably got scared and had a weak moment. He was probably beguiled by the serpent to get my dad to admit his sins to him assuring dad they would go no further than him. Not only did he blackmail Curtis, he did the same to my dad. Curtis knew he had to talk with his bonded mate and get him to present a united front against the little weasel. Curtis said he rode his pony over to our ranch and quietly approached the barn. My mom told him the preacher and my dad were out there praying to save my dad’s soul. When Curtis walked into the barn he found my dad with his Wranglers down around his boot tops and the preacher on his knees in front of him sucking on my dad’s dick like an orthodox Jew praying at the wailing wall. He said my dad looked up at him with a look of horror on his face and tried to hide his shame by covering his face with his hands.

"Curtis pulled the preacher up by the scruff of his neck and proceeded to beat the living crap out of him. He damn near did, too, before my dad could get his pants pulled up and stop Curtis from doing permanent damage to the son of a bitch. Curtis told the preacher, he and his revival tent better be out of town by sundown or he would personally see to it the little bastard would never see another sunrise. The pompous little sum'bitch challenged Curtis and told him he wouldn’t be so sure about that after he convinced the town folks what an abomination they had living in their midst. Curtis just laughed at him, pulled his pig sticker out of his back pocket and flipped it open. He was so angry he was ready to castrate the stupid little man right there. My dad begged him not to and told him it would be their word against the preacher’s. My dad added if the preacher caused either of them any grief, they would hunt him down like a wounded animal and complete the deed. He would live the rest of his life as a bible thump’n eunuch.”

“Oh, my God!” I quietly exclaimed, “No wonder my granddad went off the deep end with religion,” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, it really hurt him. My dad said some pretty bad things about their relationship, and then for Curtis to find the man he loved giving himself to a piece of shit like the preacher was just too much for him to handle, spiritually, or emotionally. He stopped having anything to do with my dad and started going to church with his wife and making his kids go whether they wanted to or not. He distanced himself from them and his wife and began to see all the flaws in everyone around him. He began to be consumed by fundamentalism like it was the answer to everything in life, like it was the fountain of truth, and he couldn’t drink deeply enough of it; however, it seemed the more he drank the thirstier he became. There was no end to his evangelism. Finally there was a complete break between him, his family, his wife’s family, and my dad and mom. He came to visit my dad in the hospital the evening before he died and tried to preach to him to seek forgiveness for his sins. My dad assured him he was forgiven. The only person in this world or heaven who he needed to ask forgiveness of was from the man he loved all his life, Curtis Langtry. With tears running down his face, Curtis told me he would never forgive him. He was angry with my dad until he died, and for sometime afterward.”

“Did he ever take it out on you, O.C.?” I asked.

“Never! In fact, he was the only one to help my mom and me when times got tough for us. We almost lost the ranch a couple of times, but Curtis always came through. We never asked, but he was always right there. He never tried to push himself on us, but he was there if we needed him. My mom knew all she had to do was pick up the phone and call Curtis Langtry, and he’d be there to help in minutes. He toned down his act a little after my dad died. He lost his wife several years before. I heard tell she died of loneliness and a broken heart. To be honest, the more I think on it, I think that’s why my dad passed away so young. He loved me and my mom, but without Curtis, he just seemed to give up on life. I don’t think he ever forgave himself or got over what he done to Curtis. He felt like the way Curtis turned out was his fault. As I think back on it today, he was probably right. In his grief, he stopped eating. He wasted away to nothing. Finally, his immune system was so weakened, he caught pneumonia and died,” O.C. lamented.

“My God! What those men must have gone through. No wonder my granddad’s had such a hard time with his life,” I said sadly.

“Don’t get the wrong impression about me telling you all this, Casey. I love yore’ granddaddy like he was my own dad. I get him off by himself ever’ Christmas to tell him I love him and appreciate him. I jes’ thought you should know these things, and ain’t nobody else knows ‘em but Bubba’n me,” he confided.

We talked some more, and I felt myself falling in love with O.C. Harris. I know, I fall in love with every cowboy who throws a decent fuck into me, but this was different. Every love you experience in life is different. Don’t mean one is better than another, they’re just different. Love is love, no matter how you try to define it. All I knew at that moment was, there was a deeper bond between O.C. Harris and me than anyone suspected.


End of Chapter 35 ~ Texas Longhorns
Copyright ~ © ~ 2005 ~ 2016 ~ Waddie Greywolf ~ All Rights Reserved
Mail to: Waddie Greywof <waddiebear@yahoo.com>
WC = 11,478
07/23/2005
09/25/2016