P-238 Red
Red
Parisian Press
P-238
Patrick Doyle
$2.25
Red
Parisian Press
P-238
Patrick Doyle
$2.25
Excerpt
One hot afternoon in July, Red lazed naked in his canvas chair, enjoying the penetrating sunshine on the wide veranda of his ranch house. As usual, his thoughts turned to sex, and his spine tingled as he recalled the first time he had entered Don’s hot asshole. Deep in his reverie, and caressing a growing erection, he scarcely heard the thunder of hooves that heralded the youths arrival as he galloped up to the ranch house.
“Get up off your ass, you horny bastard” yelled Don. “That fucking pie-bald heifer’s got herself caught in the barb wire again and I can’t get her loose all by myself.”
Red jerked himself upright, instantly alert. “Go saddle the roan while I get dressed,” he ordered. “And pick up the wirecutters and a can of that ointment. I’ll be just a minute.” Together they galloped the two miles to a corner of the spread where the heifer stood hopelessly entangled between strands of barb wire. “Damn dumb critter, don’t know why you don’t sell her for meat,” muttered Don. “Don’t think she’s smart enough to know what a bull’s for, much less make a baby and milk, too. That’s the third time she’s got herself fucked up like that since I’ve been here.”
Between them they freed the frightened, foolish heifer. Red spread ointment on the ugly cuts on her flanks, gave her a kick, and sent her away.
“Stupid beast,” said Don. They both burst out laughing, for no particular reason. “Stupid beasts like that gotta have less stupid beasts like us to look after ‘em,” said Red.
“And who’s gonna look after less stupid beasts like us?” asked Don.
Red shrugged. “Got my own ideas about that, and maybe they’re not the same as yours. Anyway, we don’t get tangled up in barb wire fences, do we?”
“Only of our own making,” replied the youth with unexpected perception.
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