by Francis Ashe
Backstage Werewolf (M/f/f)
Group Sex 3-Pack
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Bonus Material: Horse Breaker (M/f)
He didn’t talk much. Actually, he barely talked at all. I’d spoken with the man so little that I wasn’t really sure whether “Jackson” was his first name or his last name. He answered to it though so that was good enough. Anyway, we were on the last horse of the contract and then it was time to head back to town. The way this all works is that someone will give the ranch a few horses that are causing problems, and we – or well, Jackson – breaks them, starts to train them, and when they’re ready, he gives them back to the owner. He’s some kind of a legend in the field, because people will bring horses from all over the country to him for this treatment.
It was about half-past five if I had to guess. He was just finishing up the last horse, and I was sitting on a fence post watching him work his magic. He really was something else; he’d let the horse run around for a few minutes, then as soon as it relaxed he’d walk up to it, put his hand to the thing’s nose and before you know it, he’d be saddling them. This last one was giving him a lot of trouble though. He had tried his normal tricks already but none of them seemed to do very much. This big, red-brown stallion with a black stripe down his face was a real bad customer. Jackson tried to rein him, tried just saddling him, tried backing up to him, and tried feeding him. Nothing worked at all. Or so I thought, anyway. It was all a put-on, turns out.
“Frankie,” he called out in a stoic, calm voice, “Come here a second.”
I wasn’t entirely sure I’d ever heard him say my name. It was a little exciting, for some reason. His voice matched his face and his body. He was sun-browned, taller than me and nothing but lean muscle. He had a kind face, gentle smile lines at the corners of his eyes, but he couldn’t have been more than forty. Light colored eyes that reflected the sky and short hair that were nearly always hidden under a cowboy hat topped him off. He had that quiet, calm, self-assured manner that I just always associated with “cowboy” in my mind. Right now, his shirt sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, and as he strained against the lasso he’d just tossed over this stallion, the muscles of his forearms tightened and bulged with the effort. I’d never spent much time looking at him before, but he was the whole package, I realized, and here I was, halfway up a mountain with him.
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Anything for a ‘B’
By Francis Ashe
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Anything for a ‘B’
Copyright 2012 Francis Ashe
Smashwords Edition
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Anything for a 'B' (MF)
Midpoint