Feeling Randy's Balls

I laid on my bed, sucking in Randy's angular, naked form. I stroked my thick, veiny cock with increasing urgency as I gratefully eyed his muscular shoulders, arms, hairy pecks, and trim, lean waist.

From the time he had hired on at my ranch, I felt a special attraction toward this beefy, six footer. Maybe it was his quiet and lonely nature. Careful as I always had been not to reveal favoritism towards the bunkhouse crew, Randy was strong, yet seemed equally vulnerable. He was drawing me in.

Hesitating, the way he did between words, one might well conclude that Randy was just 'dull'. His steel blue eyes, however, absorbed me with their sureness and coolness. 'He knows himself', I thought. I eyed him longlingly, enjoying the opportunities I had to explore the flacid bulge of his package and, once in a while, patting him on his muscular ass. He neither objected to my watchful eyes or my stern pats.

As weeks passed, I became increasingly aware that he did not mix with the other ranch-hands. He got along, okay, but wondered off, most of the time, walking by himself, with no particular purpose. Smoking his incessant cigar, Randy took great joy in just watching the horses and cattle lazing around the inner pasture. As he climbed up on the white, railed fence, I'd notice, he'd tighten his muscular ass, thrusting his penis forward, until I thought he got some sensual kind of pleasure of being alone with these great creatures.

He seemed in wonder of them. But, then, anyone who has enjoyed the company of animals knows that their acceptance of life is unconditional and can it be very cathartic, and, yes, the solitude with them, very sensual.

I started the ranch with an inheritance because of my own similar experience. My father had always rejected me and my school years proved to be excruciating. I didn't have the confidence that other guys seemed to have. I envied them and longed to know what made me different. This usually manifested itself in the high school gym showers, where I'd secretly ogle my naked classmates, trying to figure out what made me different. On one occasion, I was showering when a boy, whom I had admired for a year, stepped into the shower in front of me. The configuration of the opposing faucets, permitted me a full view of his five inch flacid cock and sagging balls, that which, up to now, I had only been able to decern through his tight fitting pants when passing in the halls between . . . . .



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