Mr. Dubois' Ranch: Selling the Farm

“Sir, I’m pretty sure he’s not going to sell. I think we might want to just start looking somewhere else,” Preston said. He knew his boss didn’t like hearing that, but after meeting with Mr. Dubois, he got the strong feeling that the two wouldn’t exactly get along. The rancher wasn’t mean, per se, though he clearly was a man of his ways. Friendly enough to have a drink with, but push him too far and he wasn’t afraid to end it.

But Mr. Stevens balked at the statement. “That’s just cause you don’t know how to negotiate. Too much of a... Pushover.”

“Right…” Preston said. He knew the other man wanted to use another word, but the number of HR complaints must have finally been getting to him. It’s only because he was such a good salesman that they had kept him on so long. But anyone seeing how he dealt with the client would have more likely called him a bully. At the end of the day, as long as he was able to make the company money, no one really complained.

“I’ll show you how to get it done,” Mr. Stevens said as he turned down the dirt road.

They drove up to the large old style ranch painted bright red, just like the barns in the distance. There was plenty of green land surrounding it making the scenery all the more beautiful. And then there was almost a perfect circle spanning the entirety of the property. The cows must have loved it because they could graze just about wherever they wanted without any predators around. Of course that also could have been why this little ranch could make such good milk. Happy cows and such.

Mr. Stevens pulled up next to Mr. Dubois’ big black truck. Dust kicked up all around them and then quickly settled back down. When Preston stepped out, he couldn’t help but wonder how the truck stayed so clean, despite having to travel down such a road. Even Mr. Steven’s car, driving the one time, had a thin coating of dust around the lower half from the short drive.

The two stepped out of their vehicle and Mr. Dubois started walking towards them. Preston stared at the other man. He barely looked to be thirty, strong working man muscles with a surprisingly thin waist. His flannel shirt was wide open showing off the dirty undershirt underneath it. “Afternoon,” Mr. Dubois tipped his hat, then stuck out his thick hand for Mr. Stevens to grab. He must have squeezed even harder than Mr. Stevens’ expected, because the other man made a bit of a face.

“Afternoon,” Mr. Stevens said. He clearly didn’t like being shown up by the other man. But he couldn’t admit it either. Not openly at least. If there was ever anyone who challenged him, he was more than happy to meet it. That overly competitive spirit was ingrained in him. And Mr. Stevens wasn’t ashamed of it either. If anything, he bragged about how dedicated he’d been to sports in high school. Even as his athletic body started to fade, that spirit didn’t go anywhere. “I’m here to--”

“I already showed your friend here everything there is to show,” Mr. Dubois interrupted.

Preston felt his face burn red. The smirk on Mr. Dubois’ face only made it even brighter. Yes, he’d been shown around the entire ranch but there felt like there was something else to the statement. Something he couldn’t quite remember. But that could also be because Mr. Dubois didn’t look the same either. For some reason Preston kept picturing a handsome more bearish man. Someone with a burly but clearly strong frame. A hefty belly, but the rest of him was clearly built. And a thick coat of dark brown hair covered every inch of him.

“Eh-ehm,” Mr. Stevens’ cleared his throat. “I understand that, but I’m worried that he might have been a bit,” he gave a long obvious pause as he didn’t want to say something he might regret, “distracted.”

Mr. Dubois’ smile only broadened as he looked up and down Preston. “Trust me, he gave me more reasons than any to try to sell. But I’m not interested. This property hasn’t changed owners in centuries and I don’t plan on changing that now.”

“Still, I’d like to at least try,” Mr. Stevens said. “Let’s go inside so it’s a bit more comfortable to talk.”

Mr. Dubois sighed, but nodded. “Right this way.”

Before Preston could even react, Mr. Stevens grabbed him by the collar. “What’s gotten into you?!” he hissed.

Again, Preston’s face burned red. Though, this time he had a reason. It was because Mr. Dubois’ cock. Somehow he could completely picture it in front of his face as he lapped it up and down, suckling on the sensitive member as the strongman’s hand gripped his skull, while his own tilted back shouting in pleasure as Preston pleased him.

“Oh for the love of…” Mr. Stevens cursed under his breath. Preston had entered 'one of his dazes.' “Just leave the talking to me. I don’t want you fucking this up with your… Situation. Got it?”

Preston nodded. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but his mind was starting to go wild. The same with his dick. It was hard as a rock and he was having to walk with a bit of a waddle to keep from crushing it. Even as Preston flexed his arms to divert the blood, it only seemed to turn him on more as he wondered what Mr. Dubois would look like if he’d done the same.

His hand ran down the front of his pants as he thought more about the other man’s naked body. Even through the flannel shirt, the definition and strength in his arms was evident. But he might have been thinking that as he saw the open shirt with the stained white wife beater under it that was currently straining against his chest. Two hard nipples were readily apparent and Preston felt a desire to lick them. He did his best to curb those desires, but the deeper he walked into the house, the stronger they became.

The three walked into the kitchen. It was rather spacious with a full dining room table in the center surrounded by chairs on one side and a bench on the other. “Go on. Sit,” Mr. Dubois said. He turned to the refrigerator and pulled out a glass jug of milk along with two glasses. “So, I already told your boy here that I ain’t selling. What do you think you can offer that he didn’t?”

Preston eyed the glasses of milk as they were set in front of him. He started salivating. His hand reached out and grabbed the glass, and he quickly downed it. The familiar taste filled him with joy. It wasn’t like any other milk he’d ever had before. Somehow more satisfying and alluring, though he sat silently.

That didn’t stop Mr. Stevens from shooting him an angry glare. Preston quickly wiped off the milk that had gotten on his face. Mr. Dubois smiled. “It’s good,” he said. “Preston had almost a whole gallon of it last time he was here. He just kept drinking and drinking and drinking it. Even some of it straight from the tap. I was joking with him that I might run out. But I didn’t, did I?”

“No sir,” Preston smiled. His eyes glazed over slightly as his dick throbbed, begging for attention for the other man. Everything around him was starting to feel a little hazy, but he was happy that Mr. Dubois was talking to him. His muscular body was rapidly getting closer. He could almost feel those strong hands gripping his body and holding him tightly.

“That’s--”

“Eh-hmmm,” Mr. Stevens cleared his throat again, calling the two to attention. “We still need to talk. You have a lot of property here and a lot of it isn’t being used. I’m not even asking for all of it, just enough to--”

“He always like this?” Mr. Dubois interrupted back. He pointed his attention towards Preston. His country accent shined more through, as he was a bit more frustrated with the other man. Preston nodded. “Thought so. Wondered why y’all were so persistent when you were here. He must be riding your ass all the time.” Preston started to squirm in his seat. “You like it. Don’t you?”

Preston tried to hide his smile. He squirmed in his chair, trying to make himself as small as possible. Mr. Dubois’ muscular body leaned in. His finger curled under the young man’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes. Preston felt his dick throb with excitement. The sheer strength and power in those eyes set him on fire.

“What’s going on here?!” Mr. Stevens demanded. His voice boomed as he slammed his fist on the table. “We’re here to talk about business. Not flirt with my intern!”

A long, drawn out huff of air left Mr. Dubois’ nose as he stood back up. His body loomed with a bit of anger, but he quickly turned it into a smile. “Well,” he started off. “It matters if you think that you can give me a better deal than the one I already have. Why don’t you try it?” Mr. Dubois pushed the milk closer to him.

Mr. Stevens eyes it suspiciously. The way Mr. Dubois said it, made it sound far more sinister than it should have been. What could have possibly been in it? Preston seemed fine, but the 20 year old was always craving more adult attention. Mr. Stevens almost wondered if he actually did like how much he was ‘riding Preston’s ass.’

“I think--”

“My farm. My rules. What I say goes. Got it?” Mr. Dubois said. “I’m not talking about anything till you at least try what I’m making.”

With a roll of his eyes, Mr. Stevens took the glass in hand and took a tiny sip of the milk. It hit his tongue and he couldn’t quite place it. It didn’t taste like anything he’d ever had, but it also wasn’t bad either. His body kind of liked it. However, he had to stay professional. He had to remember why he was there. There was no way he was going to take more than a sip. “Are we good?”

“I don’t know… Maybe? It looked like you really liked it. Why don’t you have more?”

“More?” Mr. Stevens gulped. He could feel the taste still lingering on his tongue. He did like it and part of him really did want more. But he was there for a reason. They were supposed to talk… Talk about something. “Yeah… Maybe a little more wouldn’t hurt,” he gave into the desire. “It is good…”

“Go on. Finish it. You want to finish it all,” Mr. Dubois said. His tone was calm, but commanding.

Never in Mr. Stevens' life had allowed someone to talk to him this way. He was the one to give orders. Not receive. However, right now, he felt different. The joy of that milk was filling his body and he indeed wanted more. The taste was so unique. Along with the slight buzz he was feeling. It was almost a massage directly to his brain.

Mr. Dubois’ strong hand landed on Mr. Stevens’ shoulder. “That’s good. I knew you wanted it all. Just like Preston. Now tell me the truth, were you really going to give me a good deal?”

“Ehhh… Not really. I was just here to hassle you and push you to sell. The cheaper the better.”

“Uh-huh,” Mr. Dubois nodded. “That’s what I thought. But I just needed to make sure. You were so-- Woah there boy!” His serious tone quickly shifted. Preston was already on his knees, trying to open up the rancher’s jeans. His nimble fingers had already gotten the button undone and were rapidly moving on to the underwear. “Guess I made that last statement I gave you a bit too permanent. Have you been trying to please a lot of men?”

“Yes sir!” Preston chanted. He looked up at the other man, but his attention went back down to the impressive bulge directly in front of him. The man’s underwear was barely holding back the beast contained within it, and Preston wanted to taste that sweet sweet milk again. His body craved it. But he needed to respect Mr. Dubois.

“Good boy,” the rancher’s meaty hand ran through his blond hair. “Men are drawn to you. They see you and feel things that they normally wouldn’t. Normally weak and more shy men want to dominate you while blowhards and annoying meatheads want to be dominated. They feel this weird pull towards you. Don’t they, Mr. Stevens? You’ve been feeling it since you hired him. Haven’t you?”

“I… I… I…” Mr. Stevens stammered. He wasn’t sure what was wrong. Normally he had an answer for everything, but right now, he didn’t dare admit what he was thinking.

Preston’s attention turned back to his boss. “It’s okay sir. It’s not like I haven’t noticed.” He stood back up and went to the other side of the table. Preston stood behind Mr. Stevens’ thick body and ran his hands over his fat meaty chest. Slowly they slid back up over his belly, towards his neck. “I can always tell when a guy’s into me.” He undid the top button and worked his way down.

Feeling Preston’s breath against his neck, Mr. Stevens’ body stiffened. “Wha-what? I’d nev--ver,” Mr. Stevens’ tried to defend himself but the moan escaping his body made that impossible. His body loved those hands running through the fur on his chest and belly. The gentle touch tickled his skin.

“You don’t need to lie,” Mr. Dubois smirked. He sat back down in his chair with his legs wide open. “It’s obvious how much you love cock. You’ve been staring at mine since you got here.” Mr. Stevens’ eyes lowered to get a better view. He could feel his mouth watering as pre dribbled out of the tip.

“I--”

“Come now Mr. Stevens. No need to be shy about it. Just the way you let Preston here dress was enough to let me know. ‘The tighter the better,’ that’s what you always say to the young 20 something employee. Right? You love seeing his hard muscles. Even under the fabric of long sleeves, those strong biceps look like they’re about to tear out of whatever is holding onto them. He works so hard on them that it’s hard not to want to look from time to time.”

Mr. Stevens didn’t know what this weird feeling was. Something about the way Preston was touching him seemed to be changing. His soft smooth hands hardened. Each of the younger man’s fingers felt thicker and stronger as they grabbed his meaty flesh. “Oh God…” Mr. Stevens threw his head back in pleasure. His cock throbbed with excitement as those strong hands lowered down towards his belt.

Despite their size and strength there was a clear elegance in the way he undid the belt, freeing Mr. Steven’s cock. It was soon freed as well showing off it’s average size. Mr. Stevens leaned back into Preston’s grasp. His body craved the other man.

“Not too much to work with there,” Mr. Dubois commented. Instantly Mr. Stevens’ dick retreated out of Preston’s hand. That didn’t make it any less hard, but the younger employee did have to shift how he was pleasing the older businessman. “But I’ve bet you’ve done it so many times that it doesn’t even matter.”

Preston cocked a grin. “Not at all. He seems to love it all the same.”

“Probably feels better each time you do it,” Mr. Dubois said. “Explains why he has so many clean pairs of underwear and pants tucked away in his office. Just thinking about what you’re going to do to him whenever you have spare time probably makes him lose control.”

Mr. Stevens’ body quickly stiffened and then finished. His balls tightened against his hefty body but very little shot out. That didn’t make it feel any less amazing. Every bit of him still craved Preston’s touch. Lucky for him it didn’t stop. A soft chuckle hit the side of Mr. Stevens’ face. “You’re so easy to please…”

With that Mr. Stevens felt his body lifted up and pressed over the table. His black pants ran down to his ankles and ass was high in the air. His entire lower half was exposed but all he could think about was his lust. Any sense of embarrassment had gone out the window. A cold breeze hit between his butt cheeks running up inside him. He just wanted it to be clogged.

Preston was happy to oblige as he pressed his dick into the gaping hole. It fit perfectly. Sliding in with minimal effort. Mr. Stevens let out a loud joyous sound as his body gripped the wooden table underneath him. His dick hardened instantly, throbbing with unbelievable pleasure. He couldn’t help himself as he begged for more.

And Preston wasn’t about to stop. He kept up the pace. Pounding harder and harder as his boss’ asshole tried to tighten around his dick. Each thrust sent him a little bit closer and then one Mr. Stevens’ noises sent him over. After hitting a wall inside the other man, Preston felt himself finish with several extra thrusts that weren’t quite as intentional. However, that didn’t stop him from bragging as he leaned his muscular body down onto Mr. Stevens’, pinning the older man to the table.

“Always a good fuck,” Mr. Dubois said as Preston stood back up.

The 20 something year old pulled himself out and then pulled his pants back up. Mr. Stevens was still a bit hard even as he finished for the second time. As he slowly came to, his eyes wouldn’t stop running up and down the rancher or bodybuilders bodies. He tried to act suave, but it was so obviously an act that his face wouldn’t turn any shade other than bright red.

“I suppose this means you won’t be selling the farm?” Mr. Stevens squeaked.

“It does,” Mr. Dubois smiled. “But feel free to come back and try my milk at any time.