JumpMyBones
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Apr 25, 2014
- Posts
- 233
(Closed.)
(Mz... You are welcome to pick the men's pics if you wish. If you want, I can find some, but I thought that since I picked hers, you should get first crack at picking theirs.)
Kyle Templeton couldn't wait for practice to finish. He'd only agreed to Summer Football camp because his father, an Assistant Coach at the high school, had told him that he'd never make first string without the additional summer time training.
Kyle loved football, and he was built for it. He stood 5'10 with a 190 pound frame that was solidly muscular. He looked good -- body and face both -- and the girls at school reminded him of it constantly. He could have had any one of them just for the asking, but his obsession with one particular female -- a yet-to-be-quenched thirst that went all the way back to 9th grade -- had prevented him from playing the field with the same wild abandon that he did when in pads carrying the pig skin.
The whistle sounded, the coach announced the next practice time, and Kyle was gone! He was showered, dressed, and in his car in less than ten minutes, racing down the highway and then down a long dirt road for his part time summer job at the Circle J Ranch.
He skidded to a stop near the main gate, got out and checked his look, then wandered casually -- his heart pounding with excitement -- toward the horse barn where, this time of the day, she could always be found.
He came around to the open entrance ... Oh, wow...
And there she was. Like the embodiment of the myriad of bad jokes the guys told back in the locker room, Kyle's lust interest was, in fact, the sexy rancher's daughter.
She was full bodied, with a wonderful hour glass shape and young, firm D-cup breasts that were often sporting excited nipples that showed through what ever she was wearing that day. When she rode horse -- which was every day, the wore tight fitting pants that hugged the curves of her full ass; and -- during the warmth like todays -- when she wasn't mounted, she was typically in a dress or skirt that was very short. They showed off her long, athletic legs and, when the breeze passed through, often gave quick glimpses of her ass cheeks which -- to Kyle's delight -- were seldom contained in anything more than a tiny pair of panties or even a thong.
She was, in a word, a goddess. And, while he'd surrendered to his lust and given away his virginity to the town's slut the week after school let out, she was the only woman with whom Kyle had ever wanted to be naked.
This was going to be his summer, his year. The two of them had been spending more and more time with one another after he'd landed the ranch job; and a couple of days earlier, after Kyle had spent the afternoon assisting her with a sick horse, she'd pressed her body up firmly against his, kissed him long and hard, and said simply but seductively, "I like you, Kyle."
Oh, it had simple been the most erotic thing that had ever happened to him, even including getting fucked the month before. Five weeks: he had five more weeks of summer before he had to go back to school, and he wanted to use each week, each day, each minute getting closer to her and -- ultimately -- in her.
But today, as he rounded the corner and stepped into her view -- meeting her sly smirk with one of his own -- he realized that her gaze was ... not quite set directly upon him. He hesitated for a moment, then looked over his shoulder in the direction that it appeared she was looking.
And that was when he first saw Satan with his own eyes.
The stranger was 30, maybe a bit less or bit more. He was taller than Kyle at six foot, maybe more. Where Kyle had the body mass of a football player -- solid muscle underneath, a slight layer of momentum-aiding fat over top -- this man, currently in a tight fitting pair of jeans and work boots, was nothing but a mass of lean, clean muscle. And to make matters worse, he had the face of a GQ cover model.
No! What made matters worse was that his girlfriend's attention was set firmly upon this devil, so much so that she hadn't even noticed Kyle's arrival despite him almost standing directing in her line of sight of the stranger.
Kyle watched as the man lifted a 12 pound maul over his head, brought it down to send the two halves of the chunk of firewood before him flying out away from him, then pick up and set upon the chopping block another thirty pound wood round as if he was picking up nothing more than a Christmas ham.
Kyle had done this kind of work on the ranch, too. And he'd seen his lust interest give him a leering glance as his sweating body shone beneath the summer sun. But Kyle had used the 8 pound maul, and after exhausting himself in an attempt to impress the rancher's daughter, he'd awoke the next morning so stiff and sore that he'd had to skip football practice and soak for hours in a hot tub.
This man was barely sweating at all! And he was working with an ease that simply made Kyle's day with the ax appear childish in comparison.
As he looked back to his woman -- her gaze still firmly upon the new ranch hand -- Kyle knew: this bastard had to go.
(Mz... You are welcome to pick the men's pics if you wish. If you want, I can find some, but I thought that since I picked hers, you should get first crack at picking theirs.)
Kyle Templeton couldn't wait for practice to finish. He'd only agreed to Summer Football camp because his father, an Assistant Coach at the high school, had told him that he'd never make first string without the additional summer time training.
Kyle loved football, and he was built for it. He stood 5'10 with a 190 pound frame that was solidly muscular. He looked good -- body and face both -- and the girls at school reminded him of it constantly. He could have had any one of them just for the asking, but his obsession with one particular female -- a yet-to-be-quenched thirst that went all the way back to 9th grade -- had prevented him from playing the field with the same wild abandon that he did when in pads carrying the pig skin.
The whistle sounded, the coach announced the next practice time, and Kyle was gone! He was showered, dressed, and in his car in less than ten minutes, racing down the highway and then down a long dirt road for his part time summer job at the Circle J Ranch.
He skidded to a stop near the main gate, got out and checked his look, then wandered casually -- his heart pounding with excitement -- toward the horse barn where, this time of the day, she could always be found.
He came around to the open entrance ... Oh, wow...
And there she was. Like the embodiment of the myriad of bad jokes the guys told back in the locker room, Kyle's lust interest was, in fact, the sexy rancher's daughter.
She was full bodied, with a wonderful hour glass shape and young, firm D-cup breasts that were often sporting excited nipples that showed through what ever she was wearing that day. When she rode horse -- which was every day, the wore tight fitting pants that hugged the curves of her full ass; and -- during the warmth like todays -- when she wasn't mounted, she was typically in a dress or skirt that was very short. They showed off her long, athletic legs and, when the breeze passed through, often gave quick glimpses of her ass cheeks which -- to Kyle's delight -- were seldom contained in anything more than a tiny pair of panties or even a thong.
She was, in a word, a goddess. And, while he'd surrendered to his lust and given away his virginity to the town's slut the week after school let out, she was the only woman with whom Kyle had ever wanted to be naked.
This was going to be his summer, his year. The two of them had been spending more and more time with one another after he'd landed the ranch job; and a couple of days earlier, after Kyle had spent the afternoon assisting her with a sick horse, she'd pressed her body up firmly against his, kissed him long and hard, and said simply but seductively, "I like you, Kyle."
Oh, it had simple been the most erotic thing that had ever happened to him, even including getting fucked the month before. Five weeks: he had five more weeks of summer before he had to go back to school, and he wanted to use each week, each day, each minute getting closer to her and -- ultimately -- in her.
But today, as he rounded the corner and stepped into her view -- meeting her sly smirk with one of his own -- he realized that her gaze was ... not quite set directly upon him. He hesitated for a moment, then looked over his shoulder in the direction that it appeared she was looking.
And that was when he first saw Satan with his own eyes.
The stranger was 30, maybe a bit less or bit more. He was taller than Kyle at six foot, maybe more. Where Kyle had the body mass of a football player -- solid muscle underneath, a slight layer of momentum-aiding fat over top -- this man, currently in a tight fitting pair of jeans and work boots, was nothing but a mass of lean, clean muscle. And to make matters worse, he had the face of a GQ cover model.
No! What made matters worse was that his girlfriend's attention was set firmly upon this devil, so much so that she hadn't even noticed Kyle's arrival despite him almost standing directing in her line of sight of the stranger.
Kyle watched as the man lifted a 12 pound maul over his head, brought it down to send the two halves of the chunk of firewood before him flying out away from him, then pick up and set upon the chopping block another thirty pound wood round as if he was picking up nothing more than a Christmas ham.
Kyle had done this kind of work on the ranch, too. And he'd seen his lust interest give him a leering glance as his sweating body shone beneath the summer sun. But Kyle had used the 8 pound maul, and after exhausting himself in an attempt to impress the rancher's daughter, he'd awoke the next morning so stiff and sore that he'd had to skip football practice and soak for hours in a hot tub.
This man was barely sweating at all! And he was working with an ease that simply made Kyle's day with the ax appear childish in comparison.
As he looked back to his woman -- her gaze still firmly upon the new ranch hand -- Kyle knew: this bastard had to go.
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