THE RANCHER AND THE RUBDOWN As Provided By Lester James
Disclaimer: Not intended for anyone under 18 years old in any state or for any use. Intended for use as a stimulant to increase solo and safe sex. Not intended to be offensive, suggestive or morally indignant.
The charming Lance Dockery closed the bar, cleared the register, and said good night to the senior manager. The thin, six-foot and smoothly handsome Lance had better things on his mind than even fine wine. The 20-something bartender was heading home and had a visitor waiting.
Lance anticipated the possibilities with a certain sexual charge teasing his low-hanging nuts. He liked older men, especially masculine, earthy types. He was glad he had given this potential suitor a call, but he knew the man would need some encouraging. To his relief, but to an explosion of a sexual rush inside his scrotum, when he turned into his parking lot, he recognized his older friend's shiny, new black truck.
"So how are you, my friend," the older man said, getting out of his truck to greet Lance in front of his apartment.
"I'm good, Mr. McCain, real good," Lance replied.
"I'm glad you called and told me that you could see me tonight," the man said. Lance opened the door and motioned him through. Lance immediately flipped on one light and then a second in the apartment.
"I'm glad you could make it over," Lance said as he turned around to front his visitor.
Gerald McCain was a widower and a rancher that Lance had met a couple of months ago at the bar. Lance had started flirting with the ruggedly handsome man, who was about 55 years old. But Lance considered the flirting innocent, and a straight rancher-type like Gerald McCain strictly off limits. That was until Mr. McCain returned to the bar three consecutive evenings and finally invited Lance out to see his ranch.
Lance had taken Mr. McCain up on the offer and went out to see the nice country spread earlier in the week. Both men felt odd during the visit, after all, both of them knew there was an unusual attraction between them. Lance did not force the issue, but instead decided to allow Mr. McCain more time to get comfortable with their friendship.
As Lance got ready to leave the ranch that day, Mr. McCain started complaining about his back. Lance encouraged him to see a doctor or "if you want a rub down, people say I'm the best around." Lance noticed the soft smile that had escaped Mr. McCain's face when he made the offer.
And now, days later, here they were, standing together, fronting each other and feeling the chemistry that existed between them. Lance enjoyed older men. The ones he chose were charismatic, mature, sexy, discrete, and appreciative. Those characteristics were not found in most boys or younger men.
Barrel-chested Gerald McCain had mostly gray hair, but touches of black were evident. He was darkly tanned and his skin was leathery, obviously from the amount of outdoors work he had done in his life. The man was shorter than Lance, but he possessed a broad chest and large muscles. His thick mustache highlighted a crooked nose that had been broken a time or two. His light blue eyes and a pointed cheek formed a visual triangle that Lance found appealing.
"Do you want a drink, Mr. McCain," Lance offered.
"I've had several to relax. Don't guess I need any more," the man said.
"Then, shall I give you that rubdown?"
"I guess so," the man meekly answered as be absentmindedly rubbed his chest.
"Well, we can go into my bedroom or I can get some mats to lie on the floor in here. Whichever you'd prefer."
The question troubled Gerald McCain. He didn't want to make choices; he preferred to be directed.
"I don't care," the older man finally muttered.
"Then, let's go into the bedroom," Lance decided.
But before Lance could step toward his bedroom door, Gerald McCain rebutted, "Maybe those mats would be better on the floor in here."
Lance smiled, shrugged his arms and replied, "As I said, whichever you prefer."
Lance headed to his workout room, retrieved two exercise mats and threw them down on the floor. He then went into his bathroom, got his massage kit, complete with its collection of oils.
"Shall we begin," Lance asked, almost too casual for Mr. McCain's comfort. "I'll need you to take off your shirt," Lance said. Lance watched his guest closely, unable to deny his own interest in seeing the tough rancher without his shirt.
Gerald McCain did not move. A nervous smile swept across his face, but he neither spoke nor moved. Finally, Lance broke the silence again, "Mr. McCain, if I'm going to be able to work the muscles, I'll need you to take off your shirt." Lance was now standing inches away from his subject.
"You can call me `Jere,' that's what my friends call me," Mr. McCain answered obviously trying to change the subject.
Lance adjusted quickly, "I klike that and will try, but I prefer Mr. McCain – makes you seem like my superior. And, it shows my respect for you, Jere. Now, let's get the shirt off." The rancher again failed to move.
Growing impatient and also recognizing the older man's hesitation, Lance asked, "Do I detect some embarrassment about taking your shirt off?"
"Hell no, I do it all the time when working on the ranch," the man answered. "I'm just, well, just a little shy about it here in front of another man and all."
Lance decided it was time to take the initiative. "Then why don't you let me help you?" The young man reached out and put both of his hands at the top button of the man's new denim shirt. He unsnapped it as Gerald McCain looked down at him. He immediately noticed the thick pelt of gray and black hair that dominated the man's upper chest. He unsnapped the second button to the shirt and the third and then the fourth. He wished he could spread it open with his hands and explore the man's expansive chest, but thought the better of it. After all, giving Mr. McCain a therapeutic backrub had to be the first order of business.
When Lance got ready to lift the man's shirt from his pants, Mr. McCain stepped back and said, "I can get it from here." Without any further hesitation, Gerald McCain pulled the shirt from his pants, opened in the middle to reveal his staunch chest and slim stomach, and then pulled it completely away from his body. The sight of his hairy chest turned Lance on, sending hot flashes into his privates. The man's chest was beefy and hairy, with curvaceous breasts topped by luscious copper-coloured nipples. The older man's tits weren't huge, maybe the size of quarters, but their color made them pronounced. Beefy domed tips dominated their areole.
Mr. McCain dropped to his knees and began to stretch out on the mats, with his stomach to the floor. The position prevented Lance from admiring his chest and tits.
"Is this how I need to be," he asked Lance.
"That will be just fine, for now," the younger man replied. Lance studied the man's broad back. It was hard, well-muscled and manly. Lance placed his two warm hands at the top of the smooth back and started the massage. Gerald McCain immediately released a long exhale. Lance could tell the man's muscles were very tight. The man's skin felt as leathery as Lance had imagined, but the mere thought of having his hands on such a rugged and straight man as this turned the bartender on immensely.
Lance concentrated on the massage at hand. After a couple of minutes, he was thrilled when Mr. McCain turned his head and, in a light whisper, said, "That feels good. Real good, Lance." Lance rubbed from the top of the man's hefty shoulders down the middle of his back and then spent special attention on the lower part.
Again, a couple of minutes passed, but Mr. McCain began to moan, softly at first, and then more and more forcefully. His macho sounds perpetuated Lance's own pent up lust. Lance stopped and applied some warm oil. He had hardly gotten the man's broad back covered with the French oil, when he heard Mr. McCain admit, "Damn Lance, that stuff smells as good as it feels."
As Lance worked and massaged the man's hard muscles, Mr. McCain began to groan louder and louder, and his muscles became more and more relaxed. "Oh, I can feel you working those muscles," the man said as though very pleased by Lance's attentions. "This won't be the last time I ask for one of these."
Lance smiled, his confidence grew, and then he changed positions to straddle the man's butt so he could apply a very concise two-handed pressure right at the base of the man's neck. He spent several minutes working the motion slowly down the man's spine.
"Damn boy, you sure do know how to work a man over," Mr. McCain admitted. "Feels damn nice."
The younger man leaned his head down to near Gerald McCain's ear, noticed the man's large earlobe, and then ran his hands slowly up the relaxed back once again.
Lance leaned down to whisper to his handsome, older friend, "If you'll roll over, I can make some of the rest of your body feel this relaxed." He wanted to tap his tongue into the man's inviting ear, but did not feel confident that the widower wanted to be kissed by another man.
Lance did not receive an immediate response from Mr. McCain, instead he felt the man stiffen below him. Lance continued rubbing the upper portion of the broad shoulders, noticing how the man's last traces of body hair ended right at the top of his shoulders, leaving his back nice and smooth.
Just as the seductive younger Lance was about to repeat his offer, hoping to force a response from Gerald McCain, the older man lifted his head and said, "You want to do my fronts, is that it?"
Lance paused, ran his fingertips seductively around the man's ear and replied, "Yes, I'd like to do your fronts very much."
He saw Mr. McCain smile and then felt the man moving under him. He lifted his own body so the gentleman could flip over. As the tough rancher rolled over, Lance took a deep breathe. He knew he would enjoy this part.
"Put your hands behind your head." The man did as he was told, providing Lance with a full view of his hairy pits and chest. "Yeah, that's it. Nice. Real nice."
Again Lance poured a generous handful of the warm massage oil in his hands, rubbed them together for a few seconds and then placed his lithe hands in the middle of the man's body, right between his chest and stomach. The two men smiled at each other and then Lance whispered, "Ready?"
Mr. McCain motioned to his masseur and closed his eyes. Lance slowly spread his slick hands through the most hairy part of the man's chest, enjoying the feel and sight of the salt-and-pepper hairs running through the cracks between his fingers. The rancher's hard chest muscles and the wonderful texture of his lengty chest hair caused Lance's cock to pulse as he straddle his older friend. Lance rubbed up to the man's neck and then brought his hands straight down to Mr. McCain's belly, and its lighter traces of hair. He went up and down several times before deciding it was time to fan his hands out across the expanse of the macho chest.
As he turned his hands, he felt Mr. McCain inhale deeply. Lance pushed his fingers up and out, through the chest hair and finally over the finely knotted nipples that awaited his attention.
The stoic Gerald McCain could not control a slight groan and wiggle as the tips of Lance's middle fingers contacted both of his sensitive nipples. When Lance slide his fingertips back back down and over the reddish paps, Mr. McCain moaned again. And when the masculine silverfox's moan got even deeper as Lance stopped and massaged both tits at once, Lance decided to take full advantage. Like mixing a fine martini, the bartender lightly grabbed both of Jere McCain's finely aged nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and pulled them up from elder man's chest and the surrounding hair. The action turned the macho rancher on without compare.
The older man could not believe the sensational nature of the act itself. He tilted his head down to watch the bartender's fingertips manipulate the innocence of his hypersensitive nipples. Jere McCain could not help groaning and gasping for air as Lance worked the beefy tips of the copper buttons. For the first time in a long while, his fat cock had become swollen without being touched or yanked.
"You like this don't you, Mr. McCain," Lance asked. "Hey, don't you?"
"Lance, please," whispered back the older rancher as continued looking down the curve of his hairy pecs to see the younger man sensuously controlling the details of his meaty mannips. But, as he felt his meaty dick pulsating madly in his pant, he added, "This may be too much."
"Should I stop or do you really like it?" Lance asked seriously his thumbs and forefingers delicately circling and caressing Gerald McCain's puckered nipples in a way that the rancher could never recall. The big rancher inhaled, expanding his large hairy chest even further, and then he relaxed as the young man's fingers knotted his manly tits in ways that he never knew could happen, in essence, rendering the strong man helpless and very sexual needy.
"I like your massage Lance, yes, I do," the man replied, but Lance wanted him to answer the question he had asked.
"I was talking about this," Lance said, this time pinching definitively at the man's nipples to indicate exactly what he was meaning.
Gerald McCain knew his male tits were sensitive enough for Lance to control the action by pressing and picking at them, but the rancher did not want to answer Lance. He remained embarrassed though as sexually charged as he could remember in a very long time. But still, macho or not, Jere McCain could not deny how stimulating he found the man's fingers as they caressed and excited his luscious nipples. His deep voice responded, "Oh yes. My tits need some special massage, son."
Lance smiled, lifted the sides of both tits with his large index fingers and then began to quickly rub the other side of each nipple with his thumbs. The tits hardened and stuck out to form highly charged and meaty knots of sensational desire.
"You've got nice tits, Mr. McCain. Well-colored, meaty and very, very perky," Lance said. He kneaded the man's beefy chest for a while and then returned to strum his thumbs over the highly charged nipples. Gerald McCain groaned loudly, now feeling more and more relaxed with this caring young man. Keeping the attention to the man's chest and nipples, even pinching at their knotty tips to further excite the older man, Lance leaned down and whispered, "I want to make you feel even better, Mr. McCain."
Feeling his cock fully extended now and knowing Lance had noticed it as well, the older man opened his eyes and said, "What do you have in mind, Lance?"
Without explaining, Lance leaned down and kissed the rancher at the base of his throat. Not hearing any resistance he moved down to the middle of the man's chest and kissed deeply at the manly skin. Seeing that Mr. McCain had leaned up to watch him, but not hearing any response, Lance moved over slowly and kissed the man's hairy chest just an inch or two from his nipple. Lance then slide his tongue through the chest hairs and then over the meaty tit itself. Jere McCain jumped a tad from the thrill of the young man's tongue stimulating his left tit. Subconsciously he moved his chest to get Lance to tongue his tit some more.
The sexy Lance circled the colored tit with his tongue and then brought his lips straight down on the pap to kiss it. The seductive action was too much for the horny rancher. He lifted his chest, grabbed the back of Lance's head, and without hesitation decided to take advantage of a good thing. "Kiss it, Lance. Oh yeah, suck that hot tit of mine. Suck it hard. Like a baby! Oh yeah..."
Lance sucked the full nipple into his warm, moist mouth, enjoying the feel of its extra meaty tip as his tongue teased across it. His free hand pulled and pinched at the other nipple. Mr. McCain was breathing fast and deep. Lance felt himself highly charged as he slide his tongue across the man's hairy chest, moving from one delicate tit to the other.
"This ain't exactly a massage anymore is it," Mr. McCain said.
"No, it's not," Lance said, lifting his head to notice the flushed redness that had swept the rancher's face. Lance rubbed at the man's belly as he kissed and sucked at his other tit. He then looked down to acknowledge the outline of the hard, fat cock under Gerald McCain's britches. The man's raging hardon pushed upward at his jeans.
Mr. McCain also realized what Lance was noticing. Both men smiled. Lance slowly brought his hand down over the man's pants and felt the manroot that presented itself.
"Oh golly, oh wow... Damn boy, it's been three years since anyone has pulled on that thing for me," the older man said.
"Then it's been three years too long. Come on, let's get more comfortable. My bed's a little softer than these mats," Lance directed. He helped the barechested man up from the floor, placed an arm around his shoulder and led Mr. McCain into the bedroom. Lance Dockery felt his own dong throbbing inside his pants as he guided Mr. McCain into his bedroom. He was eager for the thrills of bedding this widower who had been too long without sex.
Lance pulled his designer pullover over his head, revealing a long, shapely torso. The magnetism of his lean and lengthy body often turned his lovers into worshippers of it. He knew he held an advantage.
He turned and kissed Mr. McCain, wrapping the rancher completely in his arms. Lance whispered into his ear, "Just relax... you're going to be treated like you deserve to be treated, good man." The bartender turned masseur turned lover slowly let his fingertips roam from the top of Gerald McCain's powerful shoulders through the thickness of his chest hair and then slowly around each of his knotty nipples. The artful lover then brought each of his fingers and thumbs together, capturing the meaty points between them and feeling them harden again. He knew the older man had enjoyed this particular nipple play the firt time. So, Lance slowly teased both of the man's chunky, beefy breasts by spreading his fingers out and then bringing them slowly together to cone the nipples.
"You sure know what you're doing, don't you boy?" the turned on rancher asked. "Damn, you make me feel crazy."
Lance smiled as the man's well-oiled chest muscles relaxed against his palm and then offered their perky tits to the flirtation of his fingers. The bartender kneaded them, rubbing the heels of his hands against the ripened nipples, making the fleshy pebbles swell with excitement. The rancher moaned, showing his intense pleasure.
The opportunistic Lance did not miss a beat. He immediately tugged the man's belt open, unsnapped his jeans and worked the zipper down its tracks. Gerald McCain breathed deeply. Without waiting further, Lance grabbed inside the man's pants. To his approval, the older man's swollen cock had forced itself outside the opening of the boxer shorts that he wore.
Just as the eager Lance wrapped his hand around Mr. McCain's anxious dick, the older man gasped and then released a long, lowly modulated groan, almost like an animal.
"Oh, Mr. McCain, Mr. McCain, you've got a nice piece here. So nice to feel in my hand and oh so, well prepared." The man's erection was as full, hard and ramrod ready as any Lance had worked on in several months. The excited cock was a good length and its girth was amazingly large.
"Damn boy, I didn't think I'd get this excited," the older man said. Lance masturbated the hefty prong, caressing it as lovingly as he knew how. The man's breathing intensified as his chest expanded and as his hips began to fuck at Lance's fist. "Shit, Lance ole boy. Shit dog, this feels good."
Lance smiled again and, without losing a beat of rhythm on the man's cock, he used one hand at a time to lower the man's jeans and underwear. As his clothes fell from his frame, Mr. McCain groaned and moved into Lance for another long, passionate kiss. As their tongues exchanged spit, Lance used one hand to skillfully stroke the rancher's cock, and used the other to dig at the man's overly excited nipple until it burned with pain and pleasure.
Gerald McCain was worked up and ready for anything. He stopped just long enough to work his pants and shorts from his ankles and then stood naked before the now shirtless Lance. "Well, here I am. Hope you like it," he said almost shyly.
"You're a very healthy, good-looking man, Mr. McCain," the bartender said. He then unsnapped his own white trousers, letting them slide seductively from the flanks of his narrow hips and revealing black bikini briefs underneath that could not contain his partial erection and the enormous bulge.
Likewise, Gerald McCain also could not contain his response. "Wow, you're fuckin' hung like a stallion. You're such a fine young man, Lance." The rancher moved into Lance and, without warning, placed his right hand around Lance's crotch. Only parts of the bikini separated Mr. McCain's palm from the treasured crotch. "Shit, any man would want to get a feel of this... you know, curiosity and all." Gerald McCain then deliberately cupped his fingers around Lance's delicate balls and squeezed gently. He smiled at the tall boy and leaned up for a kiss. As the two kissed, Gerald McCain softly squeezed the young man's testicles repeatedly while Lance stroked his cock and tortured his nugget-like tit.
"Let's get in the bed, Mr. McCain... Let's get close and comfortable." The two broke their embrace, but just long enough for Lance to pull down the covers and for Gerald McCain to push his naked body up on the bed. For the first time, Lance noticed the man's older butt. It had nice contours, but was thin, one that had literally been sweated off through the years. Lance leaned over and padded the buttocks and then grabbed it. Mr. McCain turned around and said, "Cut that out. There are more important matters to be taken care of."
Lance chuckled and then quickly took the string line flanks of his bikini briefs and peeled the material from his body. His powerfully long cock presented itself, throbbing and turning erect. Lance took it in his own hand and said, "Oh, Mr. McCain, this is going to be my pleasure."
"Damn son, that sure is a fuckin' long piece of cock meat you've got between your legs." As Lance moved onto the bed by the older man, Mr. McCain reached out and gathered in Lance's stalk. He toyed with it, discovered it, and admired it as it grew with an oncoming erection. "Damn Lance. It's so damn fuckin' long... and hot... downright amazing, boy." The cock stretched to more than 10 inches.
But Lance decided to take the attention away from himself. He embraced Gerald McCain, rolled him over and began kissing down his body. Again, he danced his tongue on and around the man's sensitive tits, producing the familiar groans from the man. He then traced his tongue down the hairy body, dipping into the belly button again and again. Gerald McCain loved the excitement, encouraged Lance to enjoy every part of his body, and prepared himself for what was about to occur.
The skillful young man then licked at the man's pubic hairs and feathered the bush with his fingers. He then leaned down and kissed the man's proud penis, lightly at first and then deeper and deeper. After a while, Mr. McCain could wait no longer. He grabbed the sensuous Lance by his neck and ordered, "Don't wait any longer. I'm so ready and charged. Suck me, Lance. Please, suck me."
Lance scooped the eager cock fully into his mouth and felt it being pushed deeper and deeper. Gerald McCain was hunching his hips, wanting Lance to take all of him.
"Goddamn son, damn, damn... Your mouth feels so damn good, oh damn, damn..." The anxious, older man began to push his cock madly into and out of Lance's face. His pelvis thrusts rocked the bed. "Shit Lance, oh, oh, this feels so fuckin' great!"
Lance kept his mouth locked fully around the cock. The older man was doing most of the work; Lance realized all he had to do was provide the man a warm, moist crevice that could suction the needy cock. He furthered excited Gerald McCain by using his fingers and thumbs to strum both of the rancher's pouting nipples. He pinched them and scraped them and pulled the hairs around them as he sucked down hard on Gerald McCain's aching cock. The man was breathing deeply, sweating across most of his body and grunting in a bestial way. Lance feeling the widower's cock swell even more, curled his tongue tightly around its head, slurped hungrily at it a time of two and then prepared to receive its penned up load. Lance's used his right hand and middle finger to sneak beyond the rancher's heaving balls to edge into the crevice of his asshole. He tickled the rancher just inside the anal passages. Jere McCain lifted his big hips off the bed, Steadied his cock in Lance's mouth by gripping it at the base, and then felt the massive cumquake begin throughout his muscular body.
"Awwww, baby, baby... Lance, my son... Pull off, if you need to..." But Lance did not want to pull off, instead he sucked down hard on the cock, feeling the man's pubic hairs tickling at his nose. "Lance, baby, baby..." The lonely rancher felt the orgasm pinch at his entire body. The waves of his sexual crescendo rocked him. He screamed into the night and then shot his seminal load into Lance's sensuous mouth.
The bartender continued tickling at the rancher's ass with one finger and twisting his puffy right nipple with the other while running his chin over the man's pumping nuts as his lips sucked hard and deep on the head of Mr. McCain's erupting cock. Lance felt the marvelous hot juices hitting the back of his throat. The taste was stronger than fine whiskey. He sloshed the Love juices throughout his mouth. He knew he had mixed the best of cocktails for his wonderful older lover.
And when the roundhouse of an orgasm had finished storming Jere McCain's strong, hairy body and after Lance lifted his lips From the rancher's still swollen dick, the young man lifted himself up to kiss the rancher on his lips and then down to the middle of his chest and over to his fine, left nipple. Lance left just a taste of the man's own cum along the trail from his lips to his chest hair to his gorgeous tit.
Yes, the bartender knew he would need to mix a lot of cocktails from this older rancher's fine well.