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Morris, Inc. (me) put of huge amount of money into the ranch, doubled the size of the stable and the running track. The bunk house, now in the middle of the track, was made semi private, now two men (local college boys, usually) per room for ranch hands, no bunk beds. Rowdy had his own room, not just a big bed, and so did Rick. I wanted to put private baths in the rooms, Rowdy wouldn't stand for it. He lived for that group shower. Redid it with three four-man shower towers, no privacy. The sleeping quarters did have their own toilet and lav. We had four jockey suites like very nice motel rooms, and charged nicely for them too (not our jockeys, but client's.) Got a cook/housekeeper, male, for the bunk house. He was a big guy, (Burly) not only could he cook and clean, he was a bouncer when necessary, There was a lot more than nudity going on back there, a woman just wouldn't be fit for the job. I really don't know, but Rowdy hired him so I guess he had Rowdy's tastes.
Lightening Streak was a runner at birth, I put a jockey on him when he was two. Silver Streak foaled early three times. All thoroughbreds are born on January 1, even if it's Christmas the year they were born. That gave us typically more than six months of body growth and training over other horses for three-year-olds.
I told Rowdy and Rick they had to find a jockey for Lightening Streak. I rarely did anything with the horses now. This is a big business, and I had to run it. We have a board of directors (had to by law to go public) but they were just yes-persons. As CEO, President, and Chairman, I essentially controlled the company. The only ones not "Whatever you want, Bill" are two lawyers and an accountant. I trust them implicitly. I haven't been doing this all that long. They have. Rick and Rowdy were offered board positions as senior owners, both turned them down. Both multimillionaires but wranglers, not financiers.
"Tested out ten, Bill. Gerry Paulis, rides him the best, Lightening Streak likes him and the weight is good."
"Wasn't Paulis riding Silver Streak when she came up lame?"
"Yeah," said Rick, "but I saw the whole thing, I don't think it was his fault."
"Rowdy?" He just nodded.
"Okay, move him in. He can have three days off a week."
"He doesn't want them or need them, it's just him. He's divorced. He will be ours all week. Whether we want him or not."
"I'll pay for five days, but he can still stay here. Lightening Streak can be ridden four days a week, the rest of the days he runs free with the other colts."
Morris Stables is a training ranch, there will be other horses (all colts except for our own fillies.), but Lightening Streak has to be a three-year-old to run in the triple crown. They run all the horses saddle free for just over a year, then hire jockeys. Lexington Kentucky has dozens. No social fun there. Jockeys ride horses, not men. You don't want to fuck with a business relationship, literally.
Despite his lineage, I won't breed Lightening Streak yet (horny dude!) Silver Streak foals again with White Lightening (It costs two hundred thousand to breed with White Lightening; Morris Stables gets the horse juice, no cost.) It's a filly. No filly has ever won the crown, but they run in the money. She's named White Streak and it fits, because she has a white streak down her forehead.
It's Derby Day in May. We have our own sky box, always do now, with high paying clients as guests. For the actual Derby, it was beautiful, Lightening Streak took the Roses in a walk. We had five horses in the lineup, two came in the money. The company (and me) made a lot of money. Lightening Streak was an unknown quantity except to us. I had already placed a hefty bet on him to take the crown months ago on entry in Vegas, I was sure I was going to win it big. We did the roses ceremony thing, the blanket of roses was ours but I really didn't want it, I was waiting for the Black Eyed Susans.
"Do we have to go to that damn dinner?" asked Rick.
"No, but the party yes, we're the winner this time; I have to go to the dinner."
"Monkey suit?" "Yup, Rick."
"I'm a fuckin' cowboy, dammit, not a goddam debutante," he said under his breath.
"Just an hour or so, then I want you two to drive back to meet the horse (less than two hours,) Burly knows you're coming. I'm sure you'll eat better than me, and be a lot more comfortable. I'll limo back in the morning."
At dinner, I was seated with the chancellor and his wife, the mayor and his wife, and the governor and his wife. They cleared the eighth chair demurely.
"Mr. Morris?"
"Bill Granger, ma'am; but I do own Morris stables."
"How is that?"
"Ethel, you're getting more than nosy!" her husband said.
"Just polite dinner conversation," she answered. It wasn't polite, but she went on.
"Is there a Mrs. Granger?"
"Probably dozens, but I don't know any of them. "
"You must be the most eligible bachelor east of the Mississippi!"
"Tell me something I don't know!"
"It's not that I don't have women friends, but I am who I am. If you don't love my horses, you can't love me. Gold diggers have hit on me by the dozens. If you don't want a pair of reins instead of a pair of rings, don't come calling." I got up and picked up the bowl of caviar while they were clearing the appetizer table to put out dessert. I put a large scoop of caviar on her plate and mine. "A spoonful of caviar is less exciting to me than a shovel full of horse droppings in a stable, ma'am."
Ethel looked on her plate and almost swooned on her husband's shoulder. "You got what you asked for," he told her.
"I didn't mean to offend, Mr. Granger" "No offense taken, Ma'am enjoy your dinner."
Caviar actually tastes good with Beef Wellington.
After dinner a tall, handsome, blonde man approached me at the dessert buffet. I was full, but there were a couple of delightfuls there I wanted a bite of. I didn't know if I wanted coffee or champagne; he handed me a flute. He was somewhere in age between me and Rowdy. "Do you need a partner?"
"Sorry, booked up, Morris is public, you can buy in."
"Not what I meant Mr. Morris."
"It's not Morris, it's Bill Granger, but I do own Morris Stables."
"I meant for the evening, but also more. I watched how you relate to your friends, you're obviously not used to sleeping alone."
Yeah, we spent the night together. He was totally oral receptive. After cumming twice I went to sleep with my cock in his mouth.
Over breakfast we addressed the "... also more."
"I've got a farm/estate in Bowling Green, Kentucky. I inherited it from my grandparents but don't know anything about the business. Ran a filly under contract, came in late in the pack."
"Who trained her?"
"No one, as faras I know, just a novice jockey."
"What do you want me to do, Eric?"
"Buy it."
"That will take some business work, and I'll only buy it with stock in the company and you'll become part of it, better for you and better for me. We'll research it, won't say yes, but I won't say no. If I do say yes, it will be the best business deal of your life. If it's right for Morris it will be right for you."
By the time we got to the Preakness, Lightening Streak won by two lengths, and wore the blanket of white carnations. We had all three horses in the money. The blanket of flowers with a large picture of Lightening Streak was displayed at the party, but then you got to keep it. Rowdy, Rick and I crawled under it, blooms down because the stems itched, but the blossoms tickled everything!
"Is that you, Rick."
"Yes, but not on purpose. Rowdy is in my ass pushing me into you."
I spread my cheeks backed up and let him in. For all the man sex we'd shared, including a three man 69, we'd never done a cluster fuck. It was beyond great! We kept changing positions in every possible way three human male bodies could do it cock to ass. It lasted more than an hour for all of us. We slept very well that night, despite the adrenalin of the win.
At the Belmont Stakes, just like his father, you couldn't make any money on Lightening Streak, you could only bet against him. They closed the book on him at the track. If he won, and he would, you couldn't even get your money back.
They put the blanket of black-eyed Susans on him. He did his victory lap. The jockey whipped him into a full gallop, he'd never been cropped before and I don't know where it came from. It was supposed to be a trot. They returned and then Lightening Streak collapsed in the winner's circle. Rowdy, Rick and I were already there. He wanted to stand up, but Rowdy kept him down, while Rick poured bottles of water into his mouth. I had seen it all close up.
Newsmen were everywhere. The trophy bearers came up. "Can we keep this short and sweet, Gentlemen? I've got a seriously injured animal to attend to." It took about ten minutes, usually the ceremony was an hour or so, but with the winning horse on his side ....
News reporters crowded in asking stupid questions. "Not now, ladies and gentlemen." They kept jabbering. "What part of `NOT NOW' don't you understand, people, I yelled? You all are totally irrelevant right now. He is more important than any of you, and worth a helluvalot more. Come to the ranch if you want an interview."
They kept pushing. "If you want a story try this." I walked over to the jockey,
"I saw what happened, it was all your fucking fault. I told you to not crop him, you're just necessary baggage that has to hang on. I grabbed the crop and broke it.
Give me my silks." I grabbed his shirt and ripped it to shreds. "You're never going to ride for Morris again and probably anyplace else, you've crippled two of my champion horses. You can forget your share of the purse."
"We have a contract," he said. "I'll sue you, and charge you with assault."
"I didn't touch you, just `my' shirt. They've got it all on camera."
"Do it and I'll counter sue you for destroying my property. I've got more and better lawyers than you could ever afford. Get out of here."
"My saddle?"
`You'll get it back when we get him in an ambulance, though you may never need it again!"
The crowd was building. I turned to the commissioners. "Can you get security to clear this space, there is more important work to be done than their headline gawking!" They actually did it, I didn't really think they would.
Bottom line, Lightening Streak had a leg fracture, but one that would eventually heal in about six months, with a lot of care. He'd never run competitively again, but it was hard to convince him he couldn't. He still stood stud to a lot of champions, but no more trophies for him, or his mother.
When things calmed down, Lightening Streak was able to trot with the yearlings (good for both of them).
"Can I come in."
"I told you, Rick this is as much my room and my bed as it is yours and Rowdy's. You both can come in anytime.
"What are we going to do" Rick asked?
"What we've always done. We're a hundred-million-dollar company, now; and you own a lot of it. Lightening Streak is a heck of a Gigolo at $250,000 an effective squirt. You can do anything you want."
"But this is all I know, Bill"
"Then keep doing it. Don't know if we'll get another Lightening Streak, but we'll always have winners."
"You and Rowdy both have a room in the Ranch House and in the bunkhouse, but when you're not there, one or both of you is always welcome in here with me or not.
"Is there room in there for me?"
"Didn't just say there always would be? Want to take a shower?"
"Just did with, with Rowdy."
"So, I get sloppy seconds?"
"No, he got filthy horse stink firsts; you've got clean Rick seconds. Rowdy didn't get anything that you might have wanted. He must have the cleanest cock in Kentucky. We shared a shower, soaped each other up nicely. Every time a hand came into shower he got fully erect again, and so did they. I finally got tired of soapy boners, especially on boys, and came over here."
"Are you naked under there?"
"How long have we been living together, Rick?"
He dropped his clothes and crawled in bed. We were nipples to nipples, navel to navel , and nuts to nuts, a full body kiss. I grabbed both of our hardening cocks in my right hand; he grabbed my hand with his left. While deep kissing, we slowly jacked ourselves off together. It was slow; it was nice. Rick came first, but when his hot semen bathed my cock, I was right behind him. We fell asleep in each other's arms. Clean up could wait until morning.
Life begins very early on a Ranch, before sunrise usually, except mid summer. The hands have work to do before breakfast. Horses eat first, but Burly feeds the hands extremely well, they need it.
We were just waking up when Rowdy walked in with coffee. "Did I miss something?" he said. "Knowing you, Rowdy, I seriously doubt it."
"Got you both coffees. Jimmy says breakfast would be ready in twenty." Jimmy is the ranch house cook, better trained than Burly, and serves healthier meals. The hands need a lot of protein, a lot of carbs, and a lot of fats. They work hard; ain't a chubby one in the bunch.
"Down in ten, Rowdy."
After Rowdy left I turned to Rick, "I want you to move out of both your rooms and in here with me."
"Why?"
"Rick, I love you."
"I love you too, Bill."
"What about Rowdy?" he asked.
"We all love each other as close friends, but it's not the same as between the two of us.
Rowdy has fucked literally dozens of young ranch hands in the bunk house (kicked one out of his bed for me once) and he will continue. He'll visit with us for fun, but he wants the boys in the bunk house more than us."
"But he's ten years older than us and the hands are more than ten years younger!"
"That's the way he likes it, they like it, always has been that way, and always will."
"And us ..."
"Nothing has changed, except I'll always be here and you'll always be here with me as long as you want."
Epilogue:
My accountants appraised Burkhardt Farms (Erick Burkhardt) in Bowling Green at $1.5 million We offered $1 million in Morris stock. Once the news went public that we bought it, he would have recovered it all and more. He sold it back to the company on signing. Talk about killing your cash cow for a hamburger! We restructured the corporation. My lawyers became CEO and President, my accountant became CFO. I resigned the titles and responsibilities to the board, but I remained chairman. Morris Inc, was now GMS a holding company, with North and South Stables as separate corporations.
Rowdy moved down to Bowling Green as General Manager, made it a fit stable at almost a million dollars (Mortgaged it rather than use our capital, but any financial institution would throw money at us.). We used the same architect and plan that we did up North. Didn't build a Ranch House, Rowdy was more than happy with the bunkhouse.
The house that was originally on the property wasn't a farm house, it was a landmark ante-bellum mansion. We gave it with two acres of land to the university abutting the property, huge write off. We worked colts in Covington, fillies in Bowling Green. There were several colleges in or near Bowling Green. Rowdy had to be very happy.
Bowling Green to Covington is a three-hour push at least, but occasionally, especially on birthdays and holidays we all got together in Louisville to party together.
Rick and me? Now that I didn't have the company to run, I played with my horses again, and with Rick, both a lot.