Bondage Ranch

by Roland Graeme

  The full moon had risen—a startlingly large, bright disc shining in the night sky, with the dark smudges of the lunar landscape’s seas vividly outlined against the luminous white parts of its surface.

  Vaughn relaxed against the porch railing and drank his water. He felt the rough old floorboards of the porch yielding slightly under his booted feet. He looked up at the sky.

  “What a beautiful night,” he remarked. “It seems a shame to go back inside. We ought to stay out here. Too bad we can’t fuck out here, in the open air, under that sky with the moon and all the stars.”

  “No reason why we can’t,” the irrepressible Grant replied. “It’s warm enough out here tonight. Hey, Darren! I know your rule is, keep the sex confined to the upstairs bedrooms. But rules are made to be broken, buddy. Do you really mind if we fuck out here in the open?”

  “Not at all,” their host said. “But there’s no point in getting grass stains on your butts. Let me grab that old sleeping bag I’ve got stashed away in one of the closets. You guys can spread it out on the ground—then you can spread anything else you feel like opening up.”

  No sooner said than done. Within a few minutes, the sleeping bag had been carried outside and positioned on the grass, where the moonlight fell upon it. A box of rubbers and a bottle of lube were also provided.

  “Now this is my idea of camping out,” Grant said, as he studied the effect the improvised bed made in the moonlight. “Okay—who’s in the mood to get fucked? Because I’ve got a boner here that’s ready to be shoved up somebody’s ass.”

  “Aw, shit,” Vaughn muttered. He drank some more of his water. “I can’t believe it, but I’m starting to feel horny again. My ass hole’s starting to twitch. I guess I can’t deny it. I’m nothing but a goddamn whore! I might as well give it up. Line up, gentlemen. I’m open for business, and I guarantee full service.”

  Word quickly spread throughout the interior of the farmhouse. Hey, anybody who wants to fuck that hot cowboy, Vaughn—just step outside. We’re having an outdoor gangbang, with him as the guest of honor! He’s taking on any and all comers.

  Vaughn was surprised that the moon, overhead, remained a gleaming white. He’d almost expected it to blush crimson at what was taking place on the ground below.

  After regaling himself in the moonlight with half a dozen of his fellow guests—including Grant and the Canadian—Vaughn finally got another chance to hump his host—which seemed only polite, in return for Darren’s hospitality.

  Flat on his back on the sleeping bag, Vaughn raised his booted feet and rested them on Darren’s shoulders. Darren seemed to have gotten his second or third wind, too. He drove into Vaughn’s butthole like a rabbit, taking him with rapid piston-like strokes.

  Gasping, Darren was still coming inside Vaughn’s ass when they heard the back door open, then bang closed. Barnett descended from the porch and joined the other men who were standing around, watching Vaughn get fucked. Darren’s handsome young neighbor had a bottle of whiskey in his hand, and he drank from it.

  “Hot,” Barnett commented. “That’s some hot fucking, guys.”

  “Take over,” Darren panted, as he withdrew from Vaughn’s ass. “I’ve got my buddy Vaughn good and warmed up for you, man.”

  Vaughn didn’t hesitate. Getting onto his knees, he seized the farmer’s fuck tool in his hand and guided it to his lips, giving it a good, long suck. While he got blown, Barnett took another couple of swigs straight from the bottle, which he then handed to one of the onlookers, who passed it around.

  Then, gasping for breath, Vaughn whispered, “Put it in me, Barnett. All these other men have fucked me so well that now I’m hot and ready for you. Ram it up my ass and fuck the hell out of me, man!”

  Barnett quickly inserted one of his fingers inside Vaughn’s sphincter. Then, as though testing the aperture’s resilience, he explored its depths. He finger-fucked Vaughn gently, but with a predictable effect. Raring to go again, Vaughn panted loudly, half maddened by renewed lust.

  He got back into fucking position, lying flat on his back on the sleeping bag with Barnett pressed heavily on top of his chest and Vaughn’s powerful legs raised and locked tightly around his waist, pulling Barnett’s groin down against his buttocks and the moist, vulnerable cleft between them. Vaughn could feel the young stud farmer’s rough strong hands spreading his ass cheeks, then guiding his condom-covered cock between them, to the puckered hole. With muffled cries and gestures, Vaughn urged him to enter. Then Vaughn moaned, feeling the round, thick, inflexible head of Barnett’s cock rub against his ass hole before it pushed forward and through the hole. Vaughn’s body opened up and slipped around the invader hungrily, relaxing its defenses, allowing his anal depths to be filled and probed by the big prick which Barnett was giving him. The farmer penetrated him fully, then he began to fuck Vaughn—so energetically that the sleeping bag, and the ground under it, seemed to rock and vibrate from the force of their fucking.

  “Give it to me—yeah, give it to me—fuck me, hard!” Vaughn groaned, sweat breaking out over his face and body. He strained up against Barnett’s body and his ass hole stretched to take Barnett’s cock, which sank into him to the balls each time while Barnett fucked him with slow, long, hard lunges. “Oh, Christ—fuck me with that big, beautiful cock, you goddamn big-dicked farm boy, you!”

  “Take it, cowboy!” Barnett retorted. “Oh, that’s a sweet, tight ass!” His hips and buttocks accelerated their pace, adopting a fierce primitive rhythm of desire, hammering his dick in and out of Vaughn’s ass with increasingly masterful, exultant strokes. Each one sent a fresh shudder of passion rushing through both men’s pounding, heaving bodies.

  As he struggled to satisfy his horny fucker, Vaughn stared up at the moon, which continued to bathe their flesh in its eerie, silvery light.

  Vaughn seized Barnett’s head in his hands and pulled his fucker’s face down so that their lips and tongues met in a scorching kiss. “Kiss me. Kiss and fuck me,” Vaughn moaned into Barnett’s open, panting mouth, as his ass hole spasmed around the farmer’s insatiable prick. “Fuck me hard!”

  Chapter Six: The Ranch from Hell

  Fucked! Fucked by one hot, hard, horny dick after another, all night long! You whore—you dirty, stinking whore!

  That was how Vaughn chastised himself as he drove home from Darren’s place on Sunday afternoon.

  So much cock—God, I’ve never had so much cock. Cock in my mouth. Cock in my ass. Coming, shooting out all that hot, wet cum. And—to be perfectly honest with myself—I loved it. I loved every dirty, filthy minute of it!

  There was no point in being hypocritical. He’d enjoyed himself at the sex party in Darren’s farmhouse. His host had served those of his guests who chose to stay overnight a nice brunch. The men had good appetites, and they didn’t hesitate to stuff themselves. They needed to replenish their energy, after all the hot, abandoned man-to-man sex they’d indulged in all night long.

  Vaughn supposed he ought to feel thoroughly ashamed of himself. But, interestingly enough, he wasn’t feeling all that repentant.

  I deserved to have a good time. Why not? I’ve had my fun this weekend. Tomorrow morning—it’s back to work. Business as usual. Until the next time Darren throws one of his parties. And then, I’ll be there. Yeah—I’m not going to miss it, not for anything!

  Vaughn liked working at The Burning Spur. It was far and away the best of the several ranches he’d worked for. He considered himself lucky to have landed the job.

  His previous job, by total contrast, had been on The Ranch from Hell so far as he was concerned. The work was hard and the living accommodations weren’t the best. But Vaughn hadn’t been too bothered by either of those things. Having hired himself out to a succession of spreads since he was a teenager, he was accustomed to working hard and roughing it.

  No, it was the foreman of that ranch who’d gone out of his way to make life miserable for Vaughn.

  His name was
John Wayne Kearney. He was a big brute of a man, tall and thickset, with bulging muscles. On the job, he was all business. He cursed and swore, and he drove the men hard. Vaughn didn’t mind that. He had an innate respect for authority and he had to admit that Kearney knew how to get the job done. Nor did the foreman spare himself. He drove himself as hard as he did the men who worked under him.

  During his first few weeks at the ranch, Vaughn often sensed that Kearney was observing him closely whenever the opportunity arose. That wasn’t surprising. Vaughn was the new man, an unfamiliar quantity. He had yet to prove himself. It was the foreman’s job to assess him and determine whether he’d fit in. Vaughn didn’t take it personally. He went about his business. He also did his best to cultivate good personal and working relations with the other men.

  The men bunked two or three to a room. Vaughn shared a room with a guy his age named Will. By Vaughn’s conservative standards, Will was kind of wild. He had his body adorned not only with intricate tribal tattoos, but with multiple piercings. His earlobes, his nipples, and his navel all had surgical steel rings inserted in them. Vaughn found the sight of his roommate’s naked body, which Will wasn’t shy about displaying in the relative privacy of the bunkhouse, quite fascinating and exotic.

  Furthermore, Will drank and smoked with undisguised relish. He didn’t restrict his smoking to tobacco. He liked to smoke pot, and he frequently treated himself to a joint before he went to bed at night.

  Vaughn had to admit that Will was generous. He shared his weed with Vaughn. The two roommates got in the habit of lying in their respective beds at night, either nude or lightly clad, passing a joint back and forth across the short distance between the beds while they stared up at the ceiling. During these smoking sessions, they’d talk. Eventually, when they were both good and stoned, they’d crush out the stub in an ashtray, turn out the light, and drift off into a hazy, marijuana-enhanced sleep.

  One night Will complained about their boss.

  “That son-of-a-bitch Kearney,” he griped. “He’s really been riding my ass lately. Today, for instance. I couldn’t seem to do nothing right. He kept chewing out my ass.”

  Vaughn was philosophical. “I guess it was your turn to climb into the barrel, that’s all. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. Tomorrow it’ll be somebody else’s turn. Mine, with my luck.”

  “Ha! I bet that bastard Kearney would like it just fine if you were in the barrel.”

  “What do you mean, Will?”

  “You know the bastard’s queer, don’t you?”

  “Aw, come on. You’re pulling my leg. Kearney? Are you trying to tell me he’s—gay?”

  “He’s as queer as a three-dollar bill,” Will insisted. “Don’t let that macho act of his fool you. He’s nothing but a dirty cocksucker. Hell, I’m surprised he hasn’t made his play for you yet.” Will paused. He turned his head on his pillow and looked over at Vaughn. “Or has he?”

  “Of course not!”

  “No? Well, give him time. He’s probably just biding his time. Waiting for his chance to corner you. You’d better watch your ass, if you don’t want to end up getting it cornholed.”

  Vaughn was uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had taken. Cocksucking was a touchy enough subject. Same-sex anal intercourse was even worse.

  But curiosity got the better of him.

  “Has he ever tried anything with you, Will?”

  “Hell, yeah. From the first day I got here, that horny motherfucker started sweet talking me and trying to put his hands on me. At first I just told him to fuck off. Then I told him that if he wanted my cock so bad, he was going to have to pay for it. I told him I’d let him suck me off if he gave me twenty bucks.” Will chuckled. “Man, you should have seen the look on his ugly face! He thinks he’s God’s gift to men. He couldn’t believe that I wasn’t going to bend over and let him fuck me for free. I never did get that twenty bucks. I guess I hurt the poor guy’s pride. Hey, now that Kearney’s had some time to think about it, maybe I ought to offer him the same deal. He might be less choosey now. Only this time he’s going to have to pay me forty bucks. I figure he’s probably twice as horny.”

  “You wouldn’t really have sex with him, would you, Will? Even for money?”

  “I might think about it on some cold winter night, if I was horny enough. Getting a blow job ain’t sex. Not really. I’m sure as hell not going to let him screw me, if that’s what you’re thinking. I ain’t no rectum-loving queer who lets other dudes fuck him in the ass!”

  “I guess there are lots of dudes in the city who like to fool around with each other that way,” Vaughn suggested.

  “Yeah, and they’ve got plenty of company right out here in the country.”

  “Do you think it’s wrong? I mean, do you think it’s a sin?”

  Will snickered. “I think it’s a damn poor substitute for pussy. That’s what I think. But you know what they say. Any hole in a storm.”

  “Uh, I think that expression goes, any port in a storm.”

  “Same difference.”

  Neither man spoke for a moment.

  “Fuck,” Will muttered under his breath. “All this talk about cocksucking and cornholing is getting me horny. I’ve got one fuck of a hard-on. How about you?”

  “Huh? How about me?”

  “Ain’t you horny, too?”

  “I was born horny,” Vaughn replied, in a feeble attempt at humor.

  “We might as well do something about it, then. Let’s jack off together.”

  “Jack off together?” Vaughn repeated.

  “Yeah. What’s the matter with you? Have you gone deaf all of a sudden? When your dick gets hard and the blood rushes down into it, does it make you hard of hearing? I said let’s jack off together,” Will said, emphatically.

  “I heard you the first time.”

  “Well, you sure could’ve fooled me. Don’t you want to?”

  “That’s kid stuff.”

  “You think so? You might be surprised. Some pretty damn grown-up guys do it, too.”

  “Oh? How would you know?”

  “I just know, that’s all,” Will said, with an odd mixture of evasiveness and smugness in his tone of voice.

  Will paused. He seemed to be waiting for Vaughn to say something. When Vaughn remained silent, Will flung the bedclothes away from his body, baring himself from the knees up.

  “There,” Will said. “That’s better.”

  Vaughn couldn’t help looking. Will was nude. His cock was hard and it pointed directly up at the ceiling. He had already grasped it in his fist and he was stroking himself.

  “Much better,” Will declared.

  “Jesus, Will,” Vaughn protested.

  “Aw, don’t be such a goddamn wuss. Join me. Jerk yours, too.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “It don’t feel so disgusting,” Will assured him. “Hell! It feels real fine. And who do you think you’re kidding? I’ve heard you playing with yourself, when you thought I was asleep. You are one horny bastard, the same as me. So what’s the difference between the two of us laying here whacking off separately—compared to us doing it together?”

  Vaughn thought about it. He tried to come up with a compelling counterargument. He couldn’t.

  After a moment, he freed his own naked body from his bedclothes. His cock rivaled Will’s in its rigidity and need. He sucked in his breath in a sigh of relief when his hand closed around his shaft and he began to stimulate himself.

  “Yeah,” Will muttered. “That’s better. That’s right. Feels good, don’t it?”

  “It sure does.”

  “What you’re doing over there looks good, too,” Will said, lewdly. “Damn! You’ve got a really big one. Come on, buddy. Work that big dick. Pump it.”

  Vaughn groaned. “Don’t talk dirty like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It makes me feel even hornier.”

&
nbsp; “So what?”

  “Two guys talking like that to each other—it’s wrong.”

  Will chuckled. “Funny how, according to you, everything that feels good must be wrong.”

  They lay there in the dark, masturbating. The sounds of sex—heavy breathing, the slap of flesh against flesh—filled the room.

  “Fuck,” Will moaned.

  He kicked the bedclothes off his lower legs and feet. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. After staring at Vaughn for a moment, he stood up and stepped toward Vaughn’s bed. His cock stuck straight out in front of him, looking more like a weapon than an appendage.

  “Touch it, Vaughn,” Will whispered.

  “Hell, no.”

  “Go on. Touch it. Play with it.”

  “Maybe you’d better go back to your own bed.”

  “Maybe you’d better stop playing so hard to get,” Will retorted. “Come on, who do you think you’re fooling? You’re as hot for it as I am. Jerk mine while you jerk yours.”

  Vaughn couldn’t keep his eyes off the stiff prick Will was offering him. Inexplicably, he couldn’t keep his hand off it, either. Seeing it in such close proximity stirred up inside him an irresistible urge to touch the other man’s penis. Vaughn sat up a bit in his bed. With his right hand still clasped around his own erection, flailing away on it, he seized Will’s hard-on in his left hand. He began to pump on Will’s fuck tool, too.

  His manipulations had a dramatic effect on Will. The other guy stood there beside Vaughn’s bed with his hands at his sides. He closed his eyes. He bit his lip. Vaughn saw a shudder ripple through his friend’s naked body, from head to foot. He heard Will emit a whimper—whether it was a cry of discomfort or of pleasure, Vaughn couldn’t be sure. But he suspected the latter.

  “Am I doing it the way you want it?” Vaughn asked.

  “You’re doing just fine.”

  “You’re really hard. I can feel the blood pounding through the veins in your dong,” Vaughn reported.

  “Your hand feels good. Don’t be afraid to squeeze it harder and really pump it. I can take it. It won’t break.”