all together. "This is your ranch-hand, Stan."

Taking off his glove and extending his hand, Buck heartily welcomed me. "Nice to meet you, Stan."

"Thanks, Buck. Nice to meet you, too." I caught his gaze and held it as we exchanged our greetings. Not averting his eyes from mine, he shook my hand in what was more like a bear paw than a human hand. It was thick and meaty, with surprisingly soft calluses.

"So, I guess I'll leave you two to it, then," said our driver. "I'll be back about six to pick you up, Stan."

"Don't bother," said Buck, "I'll just bring Stan back in my pickup."

With that, the driver jumped into his truck and began back down the road.

Buck and I watched as the truck jostled away and as the dust settled back onto the weathered lane. Slowly, Buck turned toward me saying, "We'd better get to work."

As we began sawing the posts to length for the fence, we lost ourselves in our work for about six hours straight. At about two o'clock in the afternoon, Buck suggested we stop to have a bite to eat. He pulled a cooler out of the back of his truck. In the cooler were roast beef sandwiches, water, fruit, beer, and a couple of pieces of homemade pie that Eulalie in the kitchen had baked.
While we were eating, we exchanged stories about our childhood, and where we were at this point in our lives. He actually knew a couple of my friends from my hometown who had worked with him at another ranch.

Buck was single. He said that in this line of work, he traveled a great deal and never stayed in one place very long. He went where the work was. It was clear to me that he worked a lot. His body was strong and thick. He was tall, at about 6'2", and cut an imposing figure. His barrel chest had the circumference of a redwood trunk. He said that he had not been involved with anyone for about five years.

Without thinking, I inquired, "What happened?"

"He couldn't handle all the traveling I was doing," Buck blurted out before realizing he was talking to a stranger.

"He?" I asked.

Buck blushed and replied, "Yup, he. Is that a problem for you?" he asked rather sheepishly.

I smiled knowingly, "No, Buck, that isn't a problem for me. Not at all."

"I'm glad to hear it."

We continued talking for a bit, when out of nowhere, Buck said, "Well, shit..."

Without finishing his sentence, he leaned into me and put his big paw behind my head and pulled me into his lips. His sandpaper whiskers bristled against my smooth cheeks as he began kissing me in earnest.

We were miles from another living soul, and I felt so safe with Buck, that as we began our intimacy, I felt complete freedom with this mammoth man. He began kissing down my neck to my chest as he opened my shirt. I ran my hands over the acreage that was his shoulders and chest, tangling my fingers in his chest hair. He laid me on the grass with his weight, working his way down my taut, furry abdomen, licking my nipples alternately as he unbuckled my pants.

He ripped open the buttons on my 501's and tore open the snaps on my boxers. He jammed his hand into my shorts and pulled out my throbbing cock. Without a