Date: Thu, 26 Dec 2024 20:28:13 +0000 (UTC) From: Justin Balancier Subject: Wichita Part 7 "WICHITA" Part 7 ****** Please help keep folk's creative stories, it means so much to everybody. https://donate.nifty.org � thank you. ********** Sex was memorable that night, however with the passing of time, I can't recall the details. I'm not sure who was on top. We fucked so often, one day faded into the next. Everything un-natural was ahead of our time. Probably wasn't, but it sounded good. Whatever you want to call it, it helps to keep your mind on things. We were farm hands working for my pa. I wish we could say "ranchers," and probably should. However truth be known, we were simple farm folks with a swell farm, and beautiful people for parents. ******* Weeks went by and we fell into a homespun routine for handling chores, as if second nature. Pa was doing less and less work, which pleased not only ma, but Jack and more so, pleased me. There wasn't a great amount of animals to care for and that helped, since only two wranglers were doing everything. Farming on a grander scale would require ranch hands, a bunk house, and a pay load that would drain pa's savings. Nothing like that was necessary since we were a small family farm, selling our vegetable produce, chickens and eggs. The toughest chore was plowing the fields for planting with an old wooded walk behind plow. It was pulled by a horse and no doubt just as hard on the horse, as it was for Jack and me. Ma brought us water constantly and then lemonade at the end of the day. We took turns plowing, and it wasn't easy. The sweat dripped from our foreheads and from our balls. Nobody saw what was sweating in our pants, but our faces were sun-scorched from struggling to get the soil turned over. Planting potatoes was easy, but no fun putting them in the ground by hand. One realizes just how big an acre can be, all day on your knees. (I'm exaggerating a little, but not about sweating) The best deal was at the end of the day. We shared a degree of sexual affection so naughty that the best saloon sluts in Wichita couldn't match us, even with a bargain price pussy. ******** I spent every day with a deep feeling for Jack. Although still a responsible cowboy; things can be romantic and even dirty at times. For example, this is how we eventually clicked after turning in for sleeping, and the bedroom door was closed. "We are sleeping in the same room and you know that means we leak sticky gook keeping us together, feeling as one." I said to Jack. I'm not sure why I said that. Sex was here without talking about it. I guess it sounded okay at the time. "That happens all right, but there is more than gook wanting us to be together," he replied. "There is?" "Yes, I do. I want us to be together," he quietly replied. Jack's bare chest, showing tension to unwind, coached to be squeezed and held. It wasn't much of a challenge, for me. I slid downward, body to body, along a path of chest hair. I whimpered quietly and I could feel "naughty" about to take place. This happened every time we put our naked bodies together. Good glory, Jack was stormier than me, by going a far piece further for sex. I thought I knew just how it was done. I guess we both did. I'm sure there were homo experiences somewhere, far better, but who wants to search the unknown, when you're holding the present and future, in your arms. Besides this was Jack, a Comanche / white man stud, with chiseled features, kindness and strength of a wolf. I'm horny � not stupid. It seemed that Jack's cowboy's hunger was on the agenda. And he went a little homo screwing his chest to my face. I was no longer sure of what he meant when he said, "tongue verses pecker," and little else. I believe he wanted my hard farm boy pecker, inside him. Hell, I could oblige that. "You realize you are enough to drive a horny cowpoke wild to the point of grabbing, hoping not to get shot." I said to Jack, not being a joker only admiring how he rocked realistically. "You're a queer wrangler and nobody has ever shot you." he chuckled stretching on purpose showing off the body that captured me at first glance. I got very close staring him face to face. Our eyes worked like magnets pulling us together and we kissed like champion herdsmen completely wrapped up in each other. "How long have we been doing this?" asked Jack? "About an hour." "Not kissing, I mean sex and holding one another since we met. Geese, you know what I mean. How long?" Jack repeated. "I'm not a time keeper, a few weeks - maybe a few months. What are you driving at by asking dumb question?" "We work all day, and we sweat together at night. Sweat means unloading man juice with sex" "I don't think sweat has much to do with anything. However, with a sticky pecker, you're talking the right kind of rodeo." I answered having nothing better to say, even though it was dumb. "Ma does make good friggin dumplings" smiled Jack drawing me closer, and then running his tongue across my ear. This humdinger of a cowboy was constantly full of surprises. I was hooked, seeing how warm he could be. � Yee God yes � friggin hooked. Just the same, I didn't understand what dumplings had to do with anything, yet it sounded cute � and I hate the word "cute," its girlie talk. Was Jack playing with me? Probably so, making me happier minute to minute, seeing someone I could have at a moment's notice. Back to the rules I never follow. I simply live with what comes along and whatever nonsense Jack says is fine with me. We stretched out side by side naked on the bed... There were no surprises when it came to flesh. So much time had been spent on one another's body, sex became routine. I couldn't resist a bed-time snack by putting my lips on Jack. The intensity increased, as the firing of his cock gushed thick streams of that sticky shit, feeding my mouth. "I should tell you something," whispered Jack. "Okay." "I love you Curly," he spoke not being quiet. Ma says that I love you, and she is correct a thousand times over. "Mothers know � they always know." ******** Thanks to the folks who are reading "Wichita." It is much appreciated.