Markwildyr.com,
Post #219
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Last time, we found Gabacho working at the Galloping Mustang south of the SMU campus in Dallas. His girlfriend’s been called home by her mother’s illness, so he has an apartment to himself with the rent paid until the end of the month. That’s when he figures he’ll take to the road again on Slick, his flea-bitten gray gelding.
“Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” Brod’s
words were surly, but I saw his gaze sweep my biceps and my bare chest and knew
there wasn’t any muscle behind them. He licked his dry lips and turned back to
Folsom. “That the way you want it?”
The kid nodded wordlessly.
“Okay, that’s it. Don’t come sniffing around anymore.
You blew it.”
I thought for a minute Folsom was going to go
running after his former friend, but he just ducked his head and fought tears.
I drew him a ginger ale and slid it in front of him. “Here’s one on the house.”
“T-thanks.” He grabbed the glass and gulped
it like a man dying of thirst.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Will be, at any rate. Is it all right
if I just sit here for a while?”
“Sure.” I paused as if I had a thought. “In
fact, you can do me a favor.”
He looked up, his eyes all blurry… tears not
alcohol. “What’s that?”
“I get off in about an hour, and I don’t have
a car. You can give me a ride home. It’s not far.”
He brightened. “Yeah, sure.”
“ButI need to run an errand first,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“I need to go check on Slick.”
“Who’s Slick?”
“This flea-bitten gelding I’ve got. He’s
boarded at a stable a couple of miles down the road. “Think you can take me to
see him?”
The kid actually smiled. “Sure. I don’t have
any Saturday classes, so it doesn’t matter when I get back to campus tonight…
or tomorrow.”
Oh shit, what had I gotten myself into?
****
Folsom led me to a red and white Corvette
parked at the back of the lot. Not my favorite ride. Always felt like my butt
was about to drag the ground, but it was classy looking. We slid in, roared out
of the parking lot, and I got us pointed in the right direction. The stable, a
classy joint for “gentlemen” riders was well above my price range, but my boss
had negotiated a deal I could live with, so Slick was living in style.
“Where you from,” I asked as we maneuvered
the streets.
“Cowtown… Fort Worth.”
“No, I mean originally.”
He nodded. “Fort Worth. Born and raised there.”
“You live at home or on campus?”
“Campus. My dad wanted me to get the ‘full
flavor’ of the college experience. If it was up to me, I’d live at home in my
own room.”
“Not exactly a mingler, huh?”
He flashed a grin. “You could say that.”
We came to the turnoff, and shortly
thereafter, the stable loomed up through the night. The place had a
nightwatchman, but I came after hours whenever I had the opportunity, so he
just gave me a wave before disappearing around the corner.
The night hadn’t lost the day’s heat, so the air
felt good on my chest and bare arms. We walked up to the fence, and I gave a
short whistle. Slick poked his head out of an open door and snickered.
“Wow,” Folsom said. “He’s a beauty.”
“Come here, boy,” I called.
The gelding cast a ghostly image moving
through the darkness. He put his head over the fence and nipped at my vest
collar with his lips. I rubbed his nose and hugged his neck. After a moment, I
stepped back.
“Slick, this is Folsom. He’s a good guy, so
you can give him a kiss.”
The horse moved forward, lifting his head.
Folsom fooled me. He didn’t shrink away, he just stood there and laughed as
Slick nuzzled his cheek. I took some sugar cubes from my pocket and held out my
hand. The horse transferred his affections to my hand.
“I didn’t know they let the horses run free
at night,” Folsom said, standing close by my side.
“Most of them don’t. But this joint is a
little out of my price range. My boss got me a deal, but Slick doesn’t have real
stall, just a place in the corner of the stable. But he gets to run around in
the corral at night. He likes that. When we travel, he likes to graze free while
I sack out in my bedroll.”
Aware that Folsom was close, I did what was
natural. I reached out and put my arm over his shoulders. He settled in against
me. A moment later, his head rested against my cheek.
“I like it that you have a horse and care for
him like you do.”
“Slick’s, my man,” I said, turning to give
his forehead a kiss. He was a couple of inches shorter than I was and felt good
against my side.
A moment later, I felt his hand slide beneath
my vest and explore my chest. “I’ve wanted to do that all evening,” he
whispered.
“Probably woulda caused a little stir.”
He turned and put his lips where his hand had
been. “Ya think? But I wouldn’t have cared.” His next words were muffled
because his lips teased my nipple. “You live alone?”
“Yup,” I said.
“Then let’s go.
****
My apartment was a snug one bedroom but probably
not the swanky joint Folsom was accustomed to… at least judging from his set of
wheels and the gold watch on his left arm or the diamond on his pinkie. But he
didn’t come off like a rich kid. Right at the moment, he was a horny kid. So I let
him take charge.
He eased me out of my vest and went wild over
my torso, spending a good quarter of an hour feeling and tasting every inch
before showing any inclination of moving on. When we finally got to the
bedroom, I barely had my britches of before he was on his knees feasting on
what he wanted.
He barely allowed me any resting time before
he demanded I feed it to him in another way. Before the sun came up, Folsom lay
sleeping peacefully in the crook of my arm while I lay there wondering how the
hell I was gonna last the rest of the weekend and pull my shift too. His last
words were that he didn’t have to be back in Fort Worth before Monday morning.
For a guy who’s
sworn off boys and rededicated himself to women, Gabacho sure seems to get a
lot of boys.
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