Bad Neighbors

"God, god, you're good at this," Pete babbled.

"I do this for a living," Frank answered matter-of-factly. "You're pretty good at it too. Some things you don't forget to do, right?"

They both let out a small cry as they came almost simultaneously.

This must have been enough to wake the man in the other room.

"Pete? What is it? Pete."

Pete lifted his face from the kiss he and Frank had been locked in as they both flowed for each other. "It's nothing, Sven. I'll be in there in just a minute."

"I have to go to him," he whispered to Frank, his voice full of regret. "Thank you for this. I will be a bit. I know you need to be on your way. You can go ahead and go. But . . . thank you . . . You were right. I needed this. What do I? . . . I don't know what men pay for this. You said you do this as a job."

"Not you. I don't do you for a job. I did you because I wanted to fuck you. Don't sell yourself short. And because you needed it."

When Pete returned to the main room, Frank was stretched out naked on a rug in front of the fire in the fireplace.

Pete moaned.

"Didn't I tell you I wasn't finished fucking you? Maybe all night long."

Frank fucked him on the rug-covered dirt floor in front of the fire, with Frank kneeling, his knees under Pete's buttocks, holding Pete's waist, and Pete's torso arched back to the ground, his weight on his shoulder blades and his arms stretched out, with his fists opening and closing to the rhythm of the fuck.

They slept in each other's arms for an hour or more. And then Frank mounted Pete's buttocks as the older man lay on his belly, in a drowsy state, and rode his ass to another ejaculation.

Pete woke at dawn, on his back, with Frank reversed on top of him and closing his mouth over Pete's cock. Frank's cock was pressing at Pete's cheek and he just opened his lips and Frank filled his mouth cavity.

Breakfast was just as good as supper had been, and before leaving, when Sven had called for Pete again and, with a look of gratitude Pete went into the other room, Frank took one more look around the room. It wasn't much, but what was here was tidy and kept up well. A contrast to the ranch grounds. Pete was no rancher, but he was the perfect companion for one.

* * * *

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.

* * * *

Frank made it back to Oskar's ranch the following Sunday and had another romping day in bed with the big Swede, but he didn't stop at Pete's ranch on the way back to Buckhead on Monday, as he had planned to do. Instead, he rode into North Platte, where he joined in the funeral of Sven at the town's burying ground.

Pete was too distraught for any sort of mixing with anyone that day, including Frank, but Frank managed to get him to agree to come to the Buckhead Ranch that Friday evening at a specified time.

"Sven would want you to jump right back in," Frank had said when Pete said he couldn't go back home with Frank after the funeral. "You took care of him for so long and denied yourself. If Sven loved you, he'd want you to move on—maybe even reassess your life and reconnect with those who meant something to you before."

Frank was trying to turn Pete back to Oskar, and he hoped he wasn't being too obvious about it. There would be no way for Pete to know that Frank knew much now of what had happened to cause the bad blood between him and Sven, on the one side, and Oskar on the other.

"I know you're right," Pete had said. "But not in Sven's house. Not yet. I can't turn to another man, even you, that soon in Sven's house. What we did the other night . . ."

No problem, Frank thought, the house was about to fall down around Pete's ears anyway. And this was even better than Frank had anticipated.

"Would you come to me at the Buckhead Ranch?"

"Yes."

"Will you come on Friday evening?"

Pete had agreed, and, so, on Friday evening, when he arrived, Skinner gave Frank a conspiratorial look and said, "Take room one; it's ready and it's our best."

Pete was yielding to Frank immediately in the room, fully committed to the sex. The lights were dim and Pete was on his back, a pillow under his pelvis, and Frank on top of him, between his thighs, slow pumping him in the missionary position when the door opened, and someone else slipped into the room.

Frank knew there was someone else there—he had given Oskar a later time than he'd given Pete but on the same day—and Skinner, who knew all that Frank was trying to do, had sent Oskar up to room one.

Pete was so lost in the fuck, though, that he only knew there was another man when Frank lurched and gave a deep groan as Oskar mounted him from behind and started sliding his cock inside. Frank was fucking Pete and Oskar was fucking Frank, and Frank was doing what he could to control the fuck—keeping it slow until the other two men were fully committed and then picking up the pace so that they reached a frenzy where it didn't matter who was involved in the fucking because it was going to go to jacking off regardless.

When Oskar's chin hooked onto Frank's shoulder and Pete came up to engage in a deep kiss with Oskar, Frank knew that the other two were fully committed. There had been a brief hiccup when each had realized the other was in the threesome, but, as Frank had hoped, both Oskar and Pete quickly recovered and got past the years they had been parted and the neighbors had feuded.

When he knew this either would work from here or not, Frank, maneuvered his way from between the two and left Oskar fucking Pete even thicker and deeper than Frank could and Pete laying back and moaning, with his tongue hanging out. Frank picked up his clothes and silently left the room.

He dressed in the corridor, where another of the male prostitutes and his clients were passing by, and smiled at the mixed gaze of surprise and lust in the eyes of the client. When he was clothed, he went on down to the bar—and to Skinner.

"I didn't hear any gunfire," Skinner said.

"I think it will work. We were almost at the half-hour point. Pete came for me. It shouldn't take long now for Oskar to come with Pete, if they haven't pushed each other away. It's a crucial time. If they go another half hour, it will just be them—and a shoot-off each. I can't see them not being solid again if that works."

"Don't know; we'll see," Skinner said.

"They're perfectly matched, so it needs to work," Frank said. "Pete needs to get out of that cabin; the place is going to fall in on him. Oskar's got a great spread. And Pete can't run a ranch, but he certainly can cook, clean house, and take care of a man. Everything matching Oskar's need."

"I sort of thought you'd land Oskar yourself and escape from Buckland," Skinner said. "You really wag your tail for him, and he can't seem to get enough of you."

"I expect he'll be coming back to me from time to time even if he gets set up with Pete. Maybe we'll do threesomes more seriously. But I'm not in a hurry to escape from here. I like variety and some independence, which you give me. I'm not in a hurry to settle down with anyone. Now, how long has it been?"

"Forty minutes. When it's an hour, I'll stand you a drink."

Frank couldn't help it. He checked the room after an hour. Oskar was on his back and Pete was saddled on and riding Oskar's cock. There was no sign of animosity between the two if one didn't count Pete's cock beating itself up and down on Oskar's belly as they fucked hard.

When Oskar and Pete had been alone with each other in room one for an hour and a half, Skinner got out the good scotch and poured Frank and himself a stiff drink. They clinked glasses and smiled.

"That Pete's gonna have one sore ass and be walkin' funny in the morning," Skinner said.

"Yeah, but both he and Oskar are going to be in seventh heaven," Frank declared.