Chapter 3 – Chapter 3

It took a half hour to ride to Oskar Swenson's ranch. Frank could see that there was a bustle of activity going on at the ranch as he rode up under the arch broadcasting the ranch's name and could barely see the central compound ahead down a long, dusty trail. The place looked quite prosperous and well kept, and the ranch hands were already up and moving about on their chores even though it wasn't much beyond dawn.

He saw Oskar climbing the porch of the substantial ranch house from some early-morning chore of his own. Oskar turned and saw him and grinned. He continued on into the house, though, leaving the front door open.

He was naked by the time Frank entered the house, slamming the door behind Frank, and pushing him up against the wall beside the door. In a flurry of shared activity, Frank was naked too and, his back against the wall, had his legs crossed behind Oskar's back, the ankles hooked there, his arms around Oskar's neck, his face buried in the Swede's furry chest, and his pelvis bouncing on a big cock as Oskar fucked him against the wall.

"I haven't had breakfast yet. We'll have it together," Oskar said only a few seconds after he'd ejaculated and while he still had Frank pinned to the wall. One of his muscular arms was raised over Frank's head and Frank's face was in the armpit, licking the profuse patch of hair there.

"I can't get over that you like the body hair," he whispered. "Only one other . . . well, it makes me hard that you like it. We might have to fuck again before breakfast."

"I've had breakfast."

"Where? This ranch is a long way from anywhere."

"On the road. It wasn't much. I can have another one." Frank didn't want to reveal where he had spent the night. He had gathered enough information to know that the two neighbors didn't get along.

But he was to regret that he had said he was hungry. Oskar was a shitty cook.

"There's a housekeeper most days of the week. Housekeeper had illness in the family today." Oskar said in his defense. "Sunday's the best time for you to come."

"A housekeeper?" Frank said, looking around the great room—which was a whole lot greater than Pete's main room was. The place was a mess. More like a man's workshop than a house.

"She's not much of a housekeeper. But she's a good cook. Have you had enough grub? I have. I want to fuck you again."

"Don't you have chores to do?"

"Not many. Nothing that can't hold till tomorrow. The men can handle what has to be done today."

"I can't stay long. It will take me all afternoon to ride back to the Buckhead Ranch."

"Do you have to go back at all? I can hire you here."

"You know I do."

"Then . . ." without saying more, he rose from his chair at the table, where they had both been sitting, naked; pulled Frank's chair, with him in it, from the table; and was crouched in front of the sitting Frank. Frank put his ankles on Oskar's shoulders and his hands on Oskar's sides and rolled his pelvis up, as Oskar slid his dick inside him and began to pump again.

"Let's go into the bedroom," he whispered after he was done and they had been nuzzling for a few minutes.

"Already?" Frank asked, with a laugh.

"You say you have to leave this afternoon."

Taking a panting break between fucks in the bedroom, Frank took a chance. "They were raising a barn on your neighbor's ranch when I passed. Thought I'd see you there."

"Raising a barn in the night?"

"I thought I'd see you there. Don't you get along with your neighbor?"

"No, I can't say that I do."

"Nice looking guy on the porch who seemed to be living there. Heard him talk about a man in the house dying."

"A man was dying in the house?"

"Yeah. The place really looked run down. I think the younger guy really has his hands full."

"His name is Pete. Older guy's probably Sven. You say he's dying? That this Sven is dying?"

"That's what I was told. The younger man was sticking close to him in the house."

"He once lived with me. Pete did. He was mine once. Sven took him away."

"Ah," Frank said. And "ah" is what he felt too. "It's Sven who's dying, I'm sure, not the younger guy."

"You don't say." Frank could tell that Oskar was thinking about more than he was saying.

"The younger man looked like a real nice guy. In good shape. Wonder what he'll do after the other man dies. It don't look like he's gonna be able to handle that ranch on his own."

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do now," Oskar said, as he rolled over on top of Frank, and Frank spread and bent his legs, raised his pelvis for the angle he'd come to know Oskar liked, and pressed his feet into the sheets on the bed, ready to meet the big Swede's thrusts with counterthrusts.

He cried out as Oskar slid up into him. He would always cry out for Oskar's entrances, no matter how many men he took like this in a day. Oskar had a cock to shame all the rest. What amused Frank, though, was that Oskar never took his boots off when he fucked him. He said he never knew when he'd have to take off in the middle of something, and keeping them on gave him the extra arousal of doing something illicit, something that should put him on the run quickly.

As he was fucking Frank this time, Frank whispered a question in his ear. "Would you ever want to do a threesome? I could arrange that at Buckhead some evening." The intake of breath and Oskar's increase in the vigorous strokes gave Frank his answer.

"You'll come next Sunday?"

"Probably several times."

"I can't wait that long. I'll be there, at Buckhead, sometime during the week too."

"Good. Skinner deserves a cut. Feel kinda guilty steppin' out on him." Frank also named a date and time he'd try to set up a threesome at Buckhead.

Later in the afternoon, Frank stumbled out onto the porch, bowlegged and not walking a straight line, but humming to himself.