See original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/rural/ashes-and-dust/) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex between related young-adult men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty TODAY at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.
Cookie sighed through his smile. "I was worried I'd find jeans that'd stay up on your scrawny frame, Jesse. Well, at least now I know you got sumpin ta hang 'em on so's they don't droop none. Then again, I may have to let 'em out a fair bit in the manly areas or your voice'll end up higher'n it is already." I just stood there in speechless, horrified shock. Cookie paid me no more attention than he paid Pete. He heaved a bundle up onto the bunk closest to the door. "You'll kip here, across from Pete. Danny's under ya and don't snore as much as the others. You snore, Jesse?" He looked at me as if it was natural as rain to have a conversation with a nekkid cowboy still dripping spunk from another man's handjob. "Well, do ya?"
Ashes and Dust 2: Helping Hands
by Bear Pup
"I. I, uh. I don't think so?"
Pete turned to me holding a towel and frowned. "You ain't never slept in the same room as someone, have ya?" I hung my head, feeling more stupid and ignorant each moment, and still mortified by my dripping cock. I just shook my head. "Hmmph," was Pete's only response and he started to dry me, then pulled me out of the tub so he could get my legs. When he was well down in front of me, I couldn't help but look at him as he entered my field of view. He winked and I flushed even more.
Cookie had taken no nevermind and set a bundle of clothes off to the side. "Pete, get measurements afore ya get him dressed, okay, and lemme know? I want to get a couple pairs sewed up tonight. These'll do for now. Well, welcome to The Star, Jesse. If'n ya get that tongue untied someday, come and chat. Comp'nies rare in the chuck-house of a summer, and I lahk ta get ta know the guys." Pete snorted and Cookie sent him a dirty look afore heading out.
"He' durned sure like ta get ta know at least one parta ya, cowboy. Aw, relax. You gonna take some ribbing and no mistake. Let's get you measured up and dressed so's you can stop the blush. You look bout to bleed to death through yore pores, kid."
It took Pete about ten seconds to get me all measured, top to bottom. Neck, shoulders, arms, chest, waist, hips, leg inside and out, feet, even. The one that made me squeak was when he ran the tape from my belly to above the crack of my ass, making sure to get my cock and balls right in the way. He did whistle that time which did nothing for my mental state.
He got me in drawers -- a strange kind. Every pair I'd ever seen was flannel and tight. These were cotton and loose and I durned near purred at how cool they seemed. Same with the undershirt. The jeans were, like ever pair I had, too loose at the waist and too tight on my ass, but I just cinched up the belt in a way I'd'a never done to Gypsy. The shirt was, I thought, way too big but Pete said to be thankful; I'd need the air in the Texas heat.
He installed me at the big table and sat next to me, seriousness clear on his face. "Fore the guys start coming back in, we need to talk, Jesse. I never thought earlier and I'm a-sorry bout that. You the only boy child in your family?" I nodded. "I thought as much, and you never room with guys? Then you need some catching up and quick." I looked at him, half mortified and half desperate for the info.
"This is a bunkhouse, Jesse. Ain't no women. That means men walk round in drawers or butt nekkid all the time. They scratch whatever parts itch and fart and tell dirty jokes and tug what feels good whenever it suits em. They gets hard and make fun of each other, and that means you. You got a pecker that's built to draw a crowd, Jesse, and they's gonna make a lot of jokes about it. You need to get that blush under control or's they gonna eat you alive. You with me?" I nodded frantically, enough to make it clear I was anything but 'with him'.
Sigh. "Okay, let's start simple. Bout the first week gonna be about pecker size. It is with most hands anyway and with you, well, the subject's hard ta overlook. One'a the hand's gonna make a comment like 'you even got one at all' or some such, specially since yore a bit scrawny. You go all blushy and stuttering and they'll smell blood. Dish it back and they'll love it. Now, I gotta run and get Cookie settled or he'll be all over me, and not in no good way neither. Go get your saddlebags or bindle or whatever you brought and get settled. The footlocker to the right's yours, and whatever space Danny ain't taken in the wardrobe."
With that, my young mentor was gone in a flash. I took perhaps ten minutes to make the world stop spinning. Too much, too fast -- too much heat, too much nekkid, too much blushin, to much change, too much fucking Dust. I was still thrown to hell and back by getting pulled off by Pete and then Cookie acting like I'd just sneezed or something. I pulled on my boots and headed out, Gypsy wasn't where I'd left her but the saddlebags were. I grabbed them and slung em over my shoulder and went in search of my horse.
I found her in the nearer of the barns, eating oats and happy as a clam. I pulled her into a horse-hug and she gave me an 'aw shucks' toss of her neck. I loved that horse. I found the tack on the rail and was shocked that Randy, or someone, had brushed and soaped it as well. I polished of the saddle soap then spent a good fifteen minutes petting and curry-combing Gypsy the way she loved and then left her to her oats.
I got everything stored and sorted. Danny was apparently a bit of a dandy. He had all manner of bright shirts and shiny boots. I only had a jacket and a coat to hang plus one shirt, so it wasn't a problem. I looked glumly at the meager goods I put in the locker. A pair of moccasins, some chaps and gloves. The family Bible that Sally refused to even touch, must less take. Wax rags, tack kit and horse tools. An old diary, the type that ties around, with various papers that must'a been important so many years ago. I read a few pages before bedding down most night the last couple weeks. Nothing there, really. I closed the lid and tucked the locker under the bunk.
Just as I did so, I heard spurs clank on the floorboards outside the door. I frowned. I hated spurs and always had. A man who needed spurs didn't know how to ride. A man came in beating Dust from his chaps with a floppy sort of range hat like those I'd seen but never worn. He looked up at me and there was a gleam.
"Well, what have we here. I'd guess a new ranch hand but I know Randy don't normally hire kids. Just kidding, pardner. I'm Zeke."
"Jesse." I shook his offered hand, still not over the spurs and not particularly fond of the kid comment.
"Mosta the crew will be in just afore supper. I was hoping to get some time with Pete. Danny and I been digging fenceposts and I got Dust in places God never meant Dust to get."
"I think he's in the kitc-- um, chuck-house. I'll go see. I need to talk to Cookie anyway."
"Why thank-ee kindly, Jess."
"Jesse."
"Right."
One ranch hand down, five to go and I wasn't terribly impressed. I went over to the Chuck-house door and heard Cookie's low laugh. I knocked and went in, the wet heat slapping me but, thanks to the new undies, seeming less powerful somehow. Pete looked up. He was sitting on a counter next to where Cookie was chopping something while they chatted and laughed. Pete noticed me and smiled wider.
"Jesse. Come on in. I was done anyway and needed to get back over. Hands'll be come back in soon and they'll be a-looking for me."
"Yessir. Zeke's there already. I said I'm mention it."
Cookie chuckled, "Well, ain't no need guessin what'e be wantin, Pete." The boy sighed deep and scurried off. "So, you a'comin to keep me comp-nee, Jesse?"
"If'n you don't mind, sir."
"Sir," Cookie rolled the word around in his mouth for a minute, traying the taste of it. "I ain't nevah been sirred by a white boy with an accent lahk your'n. What's the story, there?"
Maybe the long run of shocks that day had knocked my tongue (or my senses) loose. I found I couldn't not talk to this big ole black man. "My Da was a nasty piece of work. Hated, um, well I cain't really use any'a his words. A man'a your color and all. Funny bit is t'warn't none of those folks in the Parish, hardly. Hated 'em cuz his pappy tole him to. Fought in the war not fer pride or country but to keep people in their place -- not just, well, you, but everbody else as well. And I guess I didn't like the place he wanted me kept in. He's Ashes & Dust now, or mud at least, and I'll sir who's I want to. You were polite to me, and I ain't gonna spit atcha cuz of stuff don't matter none."
Cookie looked at me, grinning strangely, for the longest time. I started to shuffle a bit, worried I talked my way wrong way round. "Jesse, you and me gonna get long right fine. You aint' gotta sir me, but you come to Cookie if'n the boys give you a time. You're a damn sight older'n yore years, and you gots the respect down right. I done tanned more'n one'a they's asses when they was new and cocky, and they knows it, too. You get trouble, you see Cookie." He reached out and ruffled my hair, a gesture I'd never felt before and love to this day."
"Um, Cookie, I, uh, can I ask some questions? I mean, private, like?"
Cookie had turned back to the veggies, copping and dumping into a big pot that smelled of heaven. "Nuthin you say in the chuck-house leave the chuck-house, boy, less'n you take it wit-cha. I'm'a guessin," I could hear the smile but he didn't turn, "you's got a worry bout what I see'd when Pete was doing his washin?"
I nodded then realized he weren't looking. "Yes, sir." Even to me my voice was quiet and small. "I ain't, well, never done, um, nuthin?"
He did look at me then, open incredulous. "You tellin me you ain't never pulled that pecker afore? You gots a sickness I needin to be knowin bout?"
"NO! I mean, no! I just, uh, never, never um, never with another person, like." My voice got smaller and younger with everything I said. By 'like', I was six and had just stuck my finger in one'a Ma's pies.
"Oh. Ooooooooh. Okay, then. Yepper, yore daddy done left you in a bad place on the learnin and no mistake. Well, first, what y'all did it right as rain. Lotta ignorant folk don't see that, but's true. A young'un burn with fire too long without haulin the ashes away and bad things a'gonna happen. And it's always best to have a hand to hep wit da haulin, don't'cha think? I mean, you shore did seem to be getting a bit a joy from Pete's ministration?"
"Yessir," I mumbled.
"T'were anybody but Pete, I'd ask if'n ya forced him or threatened cuz that's plumb evil, but with Pete, you'd'a had'a forced him not to." He laughed, deep in his belly, and I felt knots untying. "Pete's lahk a puppy, Jesse. He's too durned friendly for 'is own good and... hehe, like a puppy, Pete's a mite too willin to take vantage of a leg to go a'humpin if'n it's still long nuff.
"And most men, Jesse, most lahk it plenty. You really don't want to, Pete won't push. But damned, son, you needed it purt bad. I could tell with'n you jess standin here afore, and Pete would'a smelt it when he washed ya so strong I doubt ya couldn't stopped him with a pistol. Honest, Jesse, you sorry it happened?"
"No, sir. Not sorry, exactly. Just... maybe worried? Like, what it means?"
"Well, it mean that the monster pecker you packin knows how to do the job God made it for, that's what it mean, boy! The thing's got three uses: piss, pleasure and p'ocreation. You thinkin He'd be sa's'fied with two outta three?"
I had to smile. "No, sir. I just wondered about the way He might define the second?"
"Fair nuff, son. Fair nuff. But the Star Cross ranch is the most stable and most profitable in this valley, son. You think He would let that be if'n He couldn't abide how the men here get on?"
"Star Cross? I thought it was just 'The Star' though I saw the 'T' in the middle."
"Taint a 'T', tis a cross, son. And, well, that ain't my story to tell. You ask Randy or Gary that someday, not right way, but later. After you's settled. Now you shoo. I gots pies to pull and bread to bake! Now GIT!"
I wandered out and made sure I knew the routes to the outhouse and the barn. Gypsy told me quite clearly to stop bothering her and get about my own business just as two dusty men rode in and started the ritual of puttin up their horses.
These two were Max and Kincaid, a contrast pair. Where Kincaid was thick and even a little pudgy in spots, Max looked a lot like I might in twenty years. Thin, whipcord muscles and leathery skin from a life on the range, but also with a quick smile and dancing eyes. Kincaid's low, rumbly voice held a long, one-sided conversation with his mount, a chestnut gelding named Ranger. Max rode Streak, a stunning grullo mare with pale sides and a wide, blue-black stripe down her spine that matched her mane and tail. I helped pour the oats then left them to their work and headed back to the bunkhouse.
Zeke was there, fresh-scrubbed and laying back on his bunk nekkid, apparently to see how I'd react. I tried my best not to look at all, apparently not the best choice. Pete was there, as was Danny. I'd been right. Danny was a dandy, complete with melting pomade under his hat and double-sized kerchief tied all elaborate. I introduced myself as his bunkmate and we set to chatting as he got undressed. I kicked off my boots and set to cleaning off the Dust and grime; I'd polish them afore bed. I hated going barefoot; always had. I stepped into my moccasins and sighed.
Pete got Danny into the tub and started to wash him. I looked away and heard Zeke snort. I thought over the glimpse (or more) I'd taken. In a way, I could understand why Danny was such a Beau Brummell; he had a very pretty face but was otherwise... completely average. Only a couple inches taller than me, he looked virtually interchangeable with any farm-, ranch- or store-hand I'd really ever met.
The bath was efficient and thorough, and I could hear Danny and Pete muttering to each other. Trying desperately not to look, I could still see that Pete took plenty of time with the dandy's crotch, but no sign of jacking him off was in evidence, which made me even more embarrassed. 'Just part of the service' my ass.
Max and Kincaid came in as Danny was finishing, putting on a pair of drawers with what looked like embroidery. Dandy Danny indeed. Max and Kincaid both stripped down, and Kincaid helped Pete dump the tub into a drain at the corner of the room. The three of the worked together to shuttle the black kettles from the window ledge to the tub, refill them and replace them. Kincaid was bathed first and then Max, both getting what I can only called 'fluffed up' but a smiling Pete, but neither blowing all over the bunkhouse. I could feel myself getting redder.
I jumped as the floorboard sagged and groaned, turning to find a simple giant of a man behind me. Nearly a foot taller than me, he was easily Gary's six-six, and broad as a lumberjack. He turned slightly and crouched as he came in, as his shoulders were literally an inch wider than the doorframe. He stood and blinked to get used to the light, his stance wide and open.
He spotted me and smiled, an expression that utterly transformed the man from walking terror to a big ole happy bear. He stuck out a massive paw. "I'm Babe." I expected a voice like the echo in a cave, but it was more of a sweet baritone, only a little gruff. Kincaid's voice was quite a bit lower. He took my offered hand in a way that made it clear he was used to making sure not to crush folks; the power I could feel in those hands and arms was astounding. "And this is Gabby."
Babe stepped aside and a tall (at least were he not standing in Babe's shadow), thin man was revealed. He was the oldest of the hands I'd met, probably approaching fifty. Though I'd never say such a thing out loud, something in the subtle angles of his face and the set of his rich, knowing eyes made me think of Crow Nation Indians. I shook his hand and he nodded at me, but never said a word.
While Max put on a pair of plain drawers, Kincaid tied a sort of loincloth quickly. It was very small and looked incredibly pleasant in the hot, stagnant air where covering as little as possible seemed prudent. As both Babe and Gabby stripped (Gabby taking the tub first), I realized just how overdressed I was. I stripped down to the cottony drawers, sighing as the air wicked away the sweat that had already formed.
Gabby's bath was quick and clean. Babe's... not so much. The man was simply huge. Pete literally used a stepstool to get his hair and shoulders, and about half the water ended up on the floor since most of the man was wider than the tub. This time I just couldn't keep from looking. The man was amazing. Everything I could see -- he was turned away toward the wall the entire time -- was massive. Ass, shoulders, arms, legs. All of them were heavy with muscle.
I found myself breathless, almost mesmerized. That broke instantly when he turned around. He was hard as a rail. In a way, his average cock seemed insultingly-small on his mammoth frame. Part of me chuckled, wondering if it got hard in an attempt to look big enough to fit the man. A shocking CLANG-a-lang rang out and I jumped, but apparently that was the call to supper. I expected the men to dress, but was more than a bit surprised. Some didn't even pull on boots! They just walked across the porch-corner tween the two doors, Zeke and Babe nekkid as jaybirds, like t'was nuthin!
Cookie was there, still stripped to the waist, but the stoves and ovens were banked and settling so the air was quickly cooling now that the sun as set to the west. It was hot, but no longer oppressive as the high eave-windows did their work, sucking in the cooler evening air and pumping out the steam. Cookie handed each man a wide bowl/plate with a generous helping of stew next to mash. Big loaves of steaming bread and tubs of real butter waited at the long table with spoons, knives, cups and pitchers of beer and water. I settled in next to Danny and Zeke sat next to me.
The stew was better than any I'd had in weeks. Thick and stuffed with meat and root veggies as well as (oddly, to me) corn and black-eyes peas. The bread soaked up all the broth the mashed potatoes missed. I was stuffed by the end, and several of the guys had gotten seconds to Cookie's beaming approval.
Gary and Randy were there as well, and I watched the dynamics. Gary was, no doubt, the ranch boss and Randy the foreman, but they guys acted far more like a team than anything else. When Babe let loose with a long fart, Randy was one of several who threw bread at him until Cookie threatened to take the bread away and not bring out the pies, which instantly quashed the attack.
The pies were heaven. Wild apples of some sort, so tart that it'a make ya pucker and blink, in a thick, delicate, flaky crust that made me moan with delight. That got me a genuine smile from Cookie's deep-black face; it plum lit up the room.
Zeke's running stream of commentary, most of it ribald and aimed largely at me, had peppered the meal. At first, it worried me until I saw the rolling eyes and sighs of the other guys. Finally, as we finished the pies, he turned with one foot either side of the bench and groped himself. "So, boy, you ever seen anything like this?" Silence fell as the guys waited to see how I'd play that.
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, ho! And where did you ever see meat like that, huh?"
"Oh, when I was nine or ten, I guess?"
"What, you got a hung uncle? Or you foolin around with the livestock?" That was apparently a bit too far for the guys and I saw frowns and even a scowl or two appear. Perfect.
"Oh, no sir! Every day in the mirror." That got a gasp. "But don't you worry none. I grew quite a bit later when my voice changed and I'm sure you will too." To roar of laughter shook the chuck-house and Babe looked like he was about to hurt himself his was doubled over so. Zeke, though, was far less pleased.
"You got money on that, partner?"
Gary spoke up, "Son, be careful betting with Zeke. He don't bluff."
"I got five bucks," Zeke came back, "Says you cain't come close to me."
I reddened. "I only got three."
"I'll stake you the other two, Jesse." Now, that was Pete. The same Pete who bathed all the hands in right intimate ways. That shoulda been a caution, but Zeke just smirked.
"Thank you, Pete. Yes, sir. I'll bet that five."
Zeke stood up and fluffed himself out. I had to say, through my intense blush, that he had the goods and no mistake. I sighed mournfully and he crowed, "Show the cards, cowBOY."
I dropped my drawers and used my hand to pry the coiled thing away from my sweaty balls and the guys surged to look round. "Damn, Zeke. I think you're out five."
"Yeah, but he's already het up. Ain't getting no bigger hard!"
I smiled and said softly, "But that wasn't the bet, Zeke."
"Well then let's make it the bet, cowBOY."
Gary's low voice rolled out, "That sounded like double-or nuthin. Sound like that to you, Randy?"
"Yup."
Zeke was trapped now and blustered, "Damn straight!"
I looked up and saw Pete's smile. "Fine." Now, I'd been fighting all day not to go rock hard and embarrass myself, so while Zeke started tugging I just closed my eyes and replayed Babe's bath and Pete's handjob.
I heard a soft, "Day-am. Lookee there..." I opened my eyes and looked down. I wasn't quite at full mast, but there were a good nine, thick inches standing out and up. Zeke was big, probably close to eight, but nothing close to me. It was the first time in my entire life that I was proud to have a monster pecker. Zeke's eyes were wide and his jaw a little slack.
"So's if you'll be kind enough to pay two -- sorry, four, since y'all doubled -- dollars to Pete who staked me, I'd be much obliged, Zeke. I ain't in no hurry for the rest." I turned but after a day of him razzing and teasing me, I couldn't resist. "In fact, if'n you want to wait for your balls to drop and get your growth, you can hold my six 'til then and we can have a rematch?" I walked out to the hootin, hollerin, screaming mirth of all but Zeke, and even he had to laugh.
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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay... Canvas Hell: 31 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/ Beaux Thibodaux: 23 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/ The Heathens: 25 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/ Lake Desolation: 17 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/ Shark Reef: 10 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/ Culberhouse Rules: 8 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/ Raven's Claw: 6 chapters .../authoritarian/ravens-claw/ Ashes & Dust: 2 chapters .../rural/ashes-and-dust/