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A Little Redneck Magic... chapter 1... Be careful what you think of others...
A giant thank you all for the e-mail compliments. Toby Keith fans, those stories have not stopped and for the Tim McGraw fans, I'm working on that. So far under Celebrity I have written two comic book fantasies, "A Flaming Torch," then my two Toby Keith's, and now find a groupie following for "redneck stories," LOL, me too. Please read them and enjoy. Please sponsor the nifty site by checking out all the links and sponsor sites. If you have a gay or gay friendly business in your area, please frequent them before they close or are forced to close. This story is not the one promised, but still to my new e-mail pal, Bobby M., check him out at www.bobbym.com I love penpals and e-mail buddies; e-mail me, KPG111061@aol.com. I want to bartend in a gay bar, no one hiring in Tampa? I have a bartending certification and have lived in the bay area 12 years.
Dudes, here we go...again...
First let's get the details out of the way that you guys always want to know.
My name is Padgett, born in a small southern town north of Atlanta. Now being born in the South does not make you a redneck, hillbilly or a million other things. Guys, there are things out there that can and will make you a redneck...or worse. Back to the details; today, I look to be about 26 - 28 years old, I'm about 5'10," 175, brown crew cut hair, piercing green eyes (or so I'm told), a mustache/goatee combo and a nice 10 incher that stays pretty pumped all the time. Guessing, you'd say, "I'm a show'er, not a grower." Now, I didn't always look like your typical young shit kicker cowboy, redneck. My drawl wasn't this noticeably slow and thick. My clothes of choice are t-shirts (tight enough for my nips to be seen), jeans (tight enough to see the head) and shit kicking boots (you know the pointy ones, not polished and prissy, but dusty and actually worn).
Originally, about a year ago, I was a 48 year old, Corporate Executive, about 6'2," 200pds, and gym toned and fed, College graduate. The hair was growing a little grayer, but nothing my stylist couldn't fix. When at the office, it was always Bill Blass or Ralph Lauren 3 piece suits, with polished Ferragamo shoes. When away from the office, I tended to dress down to Khakis, polos and dock siders or loafers. Yes, I know typical prep or better yet yuppie. I had made every attempt to migrate away from the southern upbringing that I had endured/tolerated and ran from.
My company, one of the nation's top consulting firms (not in trouble), has offices through out the world. I had recently been assigned to a project to open a new office in Texas, in a small town outside San Antonio. Having friends there, I was really looking forward to the trip, but not the project.
It was going to be impossible to locate the staff we needed to open and operate this particular market office. The area wasn't well known for having the image type that my company looked for and hired. They gave me one month to locate the local talent and start the project.
I arrived in San Antonio on a Friday, so as to enjoy the weekend there, rented my car, checked into my hotel. I then double checked on the arrangements for the area that would be home for the next month. A real estate contact had lucked up for me and found a sublet apartment that I could use for the month. Thank God, no hotel/motel to endure. The weekend came and went, visited friends, went and enjoyed the River Walk, then left for the project site.
I arrived on Sunday evening; the real estate agent had gotten me the key earlier with excellent map directions. The complex looked promising; upscale, pool, full gym and promised to cater to the yuppies of the area wanting to live in the suburbs. As I'm unloading the rental car, an older cowboy type of gentleman, walked up and introduced himself. Name's Pete, he says. I'm the general manager, grounds keeper and security. I shook his hand and told him that I was Padgett Sagemont and was in town on business for a month. Pete let me now that the real estate agent had already given him all the details. He asked if there was anything that I needed as he helped me into the apartment with all my bags, laptop, etc. Now Pete in his day (about 40 years) ago might have been a decent looking man, but today, a little scruffy, smelled a bit, spoke like a hick and didn't seem to care if his clothes fit or not. I thanked Pete for his help, and he let me know that if I needed anything at all, simply to call the main office. Pete also, said that I would see a young "buck" around the ground working that might answer the office phone. That would be my nephew, Mark. He's staying with me while that uppity set of parents he has travels the world. I just smiled and said thanks, be seeing you around.
Next morning, I got up early to go for a jog, before tackling the beginning of the project. As I am running down the road that I had drove up yesterday, I can see ahead of me another jogger. Now in Nike shorts and tank top, even at my age, I cut a very nice figure running or actually doing just about anything. The person ahead was going slowly, due to weights in each hand. As I caught up, I found a nice piece of distraction; swimmers build, wavy brown hair, beautiful legs, tight firm bubble butt. I said good morning, he said it back to me. I introduced myself. He introduced himself as Mark the nephew of the general manager. He asked did I mind company, as he sat the weights down on the side of the road. I said sure. He told me that he would get the weights on the way back. We ran for about an hour, making small talk. While we talked, I couldn't help but notice that Mark looked as if he were checking me out. On the way back, we stopped to get the weights and moved on. As we entered the complex, I thanked him for the company and said that I would see him around.
Later, I called the office to ask where the DSL or internet connections were in the apartment. Mark answered and offered to come up to help. When Mark arrived at the apartment; what a vision! Now I don't go for the rough trade, the jeans, the cowboys, the redneck look, but this young man looked like a James Dean want to be. Mark came in and within minutes had everything set up. He asked could he use my computer to check some e-mail. Mark explained that Pete didn't like the strangeness of computers and didn't allow them. The complex was managed without any electronic format. I said sure, told him that I would take my shower to give him time on the net and would be out in a few minutes. When I was through, I must have come out to quietly or he was simply too distracted. I could see the screen from the hallway and my major "redneck hottie" was viewing gay porn sites. I walked up behind him and cleared my throat; He froze. Slowly he closed all the pop-ups plus the one major screen he was viewing, turned around and apologized. Mark says, now I guess you can see why I can't risk a computer around my uncle. I told him not to worry. I told Mark that www.bobbym.com was one of the sites that I visited often also, because they were near Tampa where I lived. Mark stood up slowly, saying I'm glad you're not upset; then leaned and kissed me very sensually and slowly. I reached down to feel Mark up in his butt hugging, skin tight jeans. Now the kid had some size going on, about 10 inches if my evaluation was correct. I pulled off his shirt, there's the beautiful masculine, hairless chest that I saw while jogging. Mark took off my shirt. We continued kissing and feeling each other's bodies.
I led Mark into the bedroom, pulled off the boots and then the jeans. Thank God, white briefs, hugging a beautiful ass and package. Mark then stripped off my khakis; after I slipped off my loafers. We lay in bed forever making love, exploring each other, kissing; very vanilla. We 69'd and as each of us started to cum, we let the other know and let it happen on each other. We lay in each other's arms, cuddling, covered in sperm when the crap hit the fan. Out of nowhere, outside we hear; "what the fuck is going on in there?" Outside the window on a ladder working, was Pete. He almost fell off the ladder. As he climbed down, he was cussing and yelling all the way to the front door. We were barely dressed as he just walked in. Pete screams, "damn it", those parents of yours might overlook some of your shenanigans, but I will not have it. Then turns to me and says, listen you uppity, snob; you're no better than his parents. Looking down your nose at all of us, and don't think that I can't tell what you're thinking. I was put in charge of the boy to knock that sissy shit out of him. Not have some pervert turn him worse. The whole time Mark is trying to explain that it was him not me. Pete, says let me tell you asshole, looking at me and through me, if it weren't for the contract, you would be out of here. As it is, until you leave, don't go near my nephew again. Pete drags Mark out while Mark is looking back at me saying how sorry he is.
Well, after a much needed shower again, I get online, trying to forget about the whole incident by working. I contacted placement agencies in the area, giving my specifics and proceeded to wait to interview people. Corporate had already hired a contractor through the real estate agent and that was under way.
For the next week, every morning I went jogging, I looked for Mark, nothing. Then I started seeing him around again. One day, briefly he stopped me going to my car and told me that his uncle had sent him to a neighboring ranch to work. The entire time Mark looked around terrified. I told him not to worry. First, we're both adults; second I'm not afraid of Pete. Mark turned pale white and said to never say that out loud. He said; don't be fooled by Pete's looks. He's very educated and has knowledge that others can't even begin to understand. I stand looking confused and asked him what did he mean. Mark says, I've said too much already. Trust me, you and I have to stay away from each other. Plus you need to not offend Pete at all costs. I tell Mark if it makes things easier for you fine, but I need to go interview some not-so-likely applicants.
Well, the interviews went as badly as I thought. The few young ladies that came by for the clerical positions, could barely type, didn't know what a computer mouse was and thought that beehives were back in vogue and that Shania Twain was gospel. The guys, Jesus, I could have gotten better candidates on skid row. Some were chewing, some were smoking, none had any experience and they all came dressed; you got it, jeans, boots and at least a dress shirt. I called the agencies; they informed that after a check with their local connections, these were the best candidates available. I proceeded to get a little ugly and after the 3rd or 4th shit kicker expression, was listening to a dial tone. Two more weeks go by, the candidates dwindled to none. I only had about 3 days left before admitting defeat to my company.
On the 3rd to the last day in the evening, the doorbell rings. I open it to find Mark standing there, dressed in khakis, loafers and a dress shirt; smiling. I asked him what was up. He tells me that Pete has gone in to San Antonio over night and that he would like to interview for one of my positions. I ask Mark, which position? He says at the office, I don't care, but here at the apartment I like the one we had the other day on the bed. I shut the door, I pour us both some wine, we sit and drink; talking about life and the future. I try asking about the fear that Pete put into Mark and was told to forget it. Needless to say, we started kissing, fooling around again and back to the bedroom for another go at pretending to be a "Hoover." Eventually we both fall asleep. Next morning as I'm stretching awake, I notice a shadow on the wall; not mine or Mark's. I turn around slowly and there stands Pete glaring at us both. Pete looks at Mark and says I warned you, didn't I? You didn't believe me? Then to me he says asshole you are going to be taught a lesson.
He looks back to Mark again and says; your Mother made me promise not to use the family talents on you. Again to me, he says all those hard working, honest people that came to interview with you; none of them good enough, huh?
Pete says, well if I can't make a hard-working, honest, card carrying country boy out of Mark; I'll be damned if I don't make one out of you mister. Then Pete mumbles something and spits square on my chest. Shit what lands there looks like something out of an alien sci-fi movie. Then just as quickly it disappears, like my skin absorbed it. He looks back to Mark and says, well boy, you wanted him; he's your responsibility now. I'll tell your parents later that you ran off to Tampa and why. I'm sure they aren't going to care; then Pete starts to walk out. He looks back to me and says mister, I hope that you were happy here with what you thought my nephew was like, because you are going to have to live with that image now and walks out.
All of a sudden, my body starts to burn; my bones feel like they're breaking.
I feel nauseous, hot and in the most intense pain I've ever felt. Mark runs and gets a wash cloth and some cold water, crying the whole time, saying I'm sorry, I'm sorry, so sorry. That's when I black out.
The next thing I know, it's dark and cool. I can tell Mark is sitting in the corner watching me, quietly. Finally he says; how are you feeling now? Okay is all I can get out. Mark says to me, there's some water beside the bed, he's still not moving. I push up, leaning my back on the headboard; as I reach for the water, I look at him looking at me with worry. As I grab the glass, I notice that my arm and hand look different; thinner, younger. I look back to Mark and ask him, "What's happened?" Then I start to look down at my chest and stomach; all different. I jump out of bed and run over to the mirror. There looking back at me is a young man that could be Mark's brother; same wavy brown hair, same green eyes, leaner body, and as I lean back to look more; same package, same bubble butt. I turn to Mark and ask what's up with this? I meant to say something, like this is punishment? The words got lost and came out different. Mark says to me, I see you have figured some of it out already. Pete has a family talent for cursing changes on people. He took the image that you thought about of all of those you met here and put it back on you. As you settle into it, it'll become more natural. In my head, I keep thinking yeah right, punishment; here I am over 20 years younger, hot as fuck and built. Mark asks me again, how do you feel? I look at him, as my dick runs hard and the heat kicks in and I tell I'm want to fuck.
I grab Mark and pull him on to the bed and back to the necking and petting (where did that expression come from?). Mark struggles some, but the lust kicks, he gives in. Next thing I know, his hot hard 10 inches are buried in my mouth, balls on my chin. While my now 10 inch cut throbbing piece of meat is buried in his mouth. After much slobbering on each other, Mark looks at me and says, fuck me. Without lube or grease, I flip him over and slide it in; riding Mark like a stallion, jacking him the whole time. As we both orgasm, I lean back feeling for the first time, my tight, hard, young body, toes curling; moaning, groaning as I unload more cum than I have in years. At the same time Mark starts moaning and next thing I know, like Emeril, "BAM", cum everywhere; face, chest, hands, you name it. As we both come down off this orgasm high, we collapse on to each other and I call him stud, darling, honey. Words I've never used before.
The next morning, I get up first and go to check for some clothes to wear. All that's there are t-shirts, ranch style dress shirts, jeans, boots and one pair of sneakers. In my underwear drawer, some boxers, some jocks and my briefs are all that I find. Mark says to me that the curse as I adjust to it, adjusts to me. He says that even if I go out and buy new clothes; either I won't be able to wear them or they'll change to fit the situation. Also, my job has changed with my old company; I'm no longer a business consultant. I'm now a construction contractor consultant of sorts. Mark apologizes, telling me that because of him, my life is lost. I laugh and tell him as lonely as I was, I really didn't have a life. I ask him is the part of the curse Pete said about him going to Tampa true. Mark says that's not part of the curse. I had already told Pete that I was going to try and run away to be with you.
We pack up my stuff and Mark's. I actually shook Pete's hand as we left and promised to take care of Mark and to help him find himself like Pete helped me find myself.
Mark and I arrive back in Tampa a day later. My suburban house is now very ranch style. My cats have been added to by two German shepherds and a beautiful vegetable garden out back. My car in long term parking has been replaced with an old '99 Isuzu Rodeo; better to haul around stuff. I still hear the old me in my head once in awhile, but this me that's happy is the one who speaks and lives a beautiful life with Mark in the suburb of Brandon outside of Tampa.
Hey, we're always looking for other rednecks or at least "M4Ms" that are down to earth and true to their friends. We hope to meet Bobby, Anthony and the others someday at www.bobbym.com and thank them for starting us on this life together.