my urgent curiosity. I had to resign myself to this frustration for unending weeks, settling for unsatisfying masturbatory fantasies in the shower. But I could be patient. When it comes to matters of the cock, I can be unyieldingly persistent.

With only a couple of weeks left in my sojourn in the late summer, I was hard at work at my uncle's computer when I thought I heard an especially noisy outburst of laughter and joyous frivolity coming from the horse corral. When I approached the scene of this frolicsome event, the oldest hand among them turned to me mustachioed, "oh Blondie, you're going to like this!" chortling and chuckling away. "Cowboy Bob here, that is, our 'stallion' Bob made camping reservations at the forest for two at the beginning of next week. It seems after several months later, he neglected to tell his lady friend about it until yesterday." This prompted another round of guffaws at the expense of the red-faced buck. "Of course, now she is pissed off meaner than a she-mule and tells him she has to work and he better find himself someone else to sleep with under the stars."

Before all settled down, one of the other workers spoke up, "Boy, don't you know you can't order your lady around like a pizza? Lord knows, it will be a long time before you get another delivery." Another round of snorts and belly laughs erupted with the announcement of this ribald metaphor. . The oldest piped up again. "Sheeiit! … A looker like you oughta go to town tonight and carouse up another lady to take with you on your love fest." To the thorough amusement of the others, the man with the mustache pursed his lips and blew mock kisses in the direction of the embarrassed younger.

Bob could only conjure up a weak retort to counter the impression of his lack of sophistication. None of this was being communicated the way he had planned. ""Merle, that's dumb! That would make Anne only angrier if she knew I planned to take another girl camping." The remark only increased the pace of jests and catcalls.

Another hand shouted out, "Well lookie here! …we've got ourselves a regular 'Dear Abby' in the affairs of the heart." I felt for this guy and his uncomfortable predicament. I knew when he left the ranch that night, he was sorry he ever arose that morning. How many days had I had like that myself?

I was sympathetic, but even more so, opportunistic. The next day I planned to have lunch with the hands. I would do this from time to time for my amusement and to gain some insights into the surrounding environs. On this day, I would exploit Bob's vacancy in his camping plans without further adding to his embarrassment. It was a delicate task, but we cock men have to be crafty. It was an unusually warm day for so late in the summer and some of the hands already had their shirts off as they approached the open air dining benches for lunch. Included among them was the one whom I pursued so fervently. For a minute I was unnerved, almost gasping at the sight of his glistening strong rounded shoulders topping off bulging biceps. A barrel chest of two broad round pecs served as ample foundation for the thick brown chest hair that covered them, a sumptuous dark line reclining from the foot of those sculptured mounds along six pack abs, to where a new graze