The Lower Forty

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The mare was starting to get skittish as he finally finished the job. The mare had tried to kick him, but without much luck. He was too close for her to get any kind of leverage for a f***eful kick. Her kick hit the dead air with a “whoosh.

Our job’s done,” he said, as he spit another wad of Skoal juice to the dusty corral ground in a long thick stream. Dad helped our neighboring rancher, Bill, any chance he could, and this was one of those jobs. Bill was a nice guy with not a lot of money, so dad would treat his horses without charge.

The rancher was an old friend, and dad, being a veterinarian and farrier, was skilled at all aspects of being a good old-fashioned horse doctor. “Thanks again, doc,” Bill said, as we turned, dusted off our Stetsons and made our way to dad’s truck. Dad just waved and smiled, but I knew he was pissed.

That mare was a bitch to handle. He had had enough for that day. Dad was a real man’s man. He was about five-ten or so with short light brown hair.

His hazel eyes set off his handsome and now slightly lined face. He was masculine without having to talk about it. His bull neck and broad shoulders tapered down to a thin waist and a tight and muscular ass. His thighs were thick and were perfectly framed by his Wranglers.

He packed a big bulge in the front of his jeans looking like his cock and balls would strain the zipper enough to bust out. I looked at his crotch as often as I could and marveled that I came squirting out of that package eighteen years before. I wondered if my ever-growing cock would measure up to his.

I’d been told often enough that I was a dead ringer for him. They all said I looked just like him, and I did. I could have been a clone. I was the same height and weight, same hair and eye color, same sounding voice and muscular frame.

He was just twenty years older than me, but looked much younger than his thirty-eight years. People would mistake us for b*****rs. I knew I looked a lot like him and wondered if our cocks were identical. I hadn’t seen him naked in the shower for quite awhile.

I’d dreamed of putting my lips around his dick and sucking his balls dry. I jacked off thinking about his hard rod up my ass and pumping it until I got a gut full of his cum. As we walked up to the truck, he pulled his gloves off and started to unsnap the pearl buttons on his now dusty and dirty white shirt.

“Hop in on the driver’s side, son. You’re driving. ” We both slid into the front seat of the new Ford F-150. Dad slipped his shirt completely off showing dark thick matted hair on his muscular chest.

The sweat was rolling down his chest in rivers. He looked over at me with a big grin, turned to me and flexed his rock hard pecs up and down. We both started laughing. He tended to be a showoff with his body.

He had a lot to show off. Since he and mom had divorced a few years earlier, he had a string of girlfriends who would fuck him every chance they got. Dad was a true stud. I liked to think that I took after him.

. . . .