RanchersFebruary 7 & 8, 1956Ennis, MontanaNot here, not now, my nineteen-year-old brain cried.I was stirred from my sleep under the clear moon and stars near the base of the lake when I heard the sound of heavy boots approach my rickety tent. I knew then, at that very moment, I was about to face the inevitable. Gay sex This was it. I knew if it came—when he came—it was coming as soon as we settled in for the night.None of the others knew was my rationale, at the time. He was gritting and groaning through his teeth every time he found a new barrier inside of me to break. I guess I wasn’t fast enough to meet his urgent demand.He grabbed me, flipped me over like a fucking flapjack, cursed me some more in his native tongue and took another brutal and fluid plunge into me. And when our truss finally came to an end, with him flooding my insides with his seeds I was almost sadden.It was over—so I thought.As soon as he dismounted, I was mounted again by two other tent-raiders destined to fill my guts with their spunk.
