Western Pleasure
By Terry O’Reilly
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2012 Terry O’Reilly
ISBN 9781611522556
Cover Photo Credit: keeweeboy
Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
Cover Design: J.M. Snyder
All Rights Reserved
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
Western Pleasure
By Terry O’Reilly
“The economy sucks, man.”
Tyler Steele nodded his agreement at his best friend Barney’s assessment. Barney had lost his job at the local car dealership. He had been in charge of truck and trailer sales.
“Tell me about it,” chimed in Zeb, another of Tyler’s friends and owner of Zeb’s Westside Saddlery. “Business is down over ten percent. No one’s buyin’ horses and those that have ’em can’t afford to buy tack any more.”
Tyler sighed as he sipped his beer. His business too was slow. He was a horse trainer and in the past two years his twenty stall barn had gone from full to fifty per cent occupancy.
“Yep,” he drawled. “No one wants horses trained right now and the ones I got trained are cuttin’ back on showin’. Don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
The three men sat commiserating one Friday night at the Stampede, a local country western bar. The live band played “Good Time” and several folks were out on the floor line dancing to the song. The men at Tyler’s table agreed the song wasn’t reflecting their current mood. Not one of them had the slightest inclination to get up and join the dance. That suited Ty just fine as he usually refused any invitation to join the line dance.
“Well, Ty,” Zeb offered, “you could give lessons. Ever thought about that?”
“Yeah, I thought about it. I ain’t taught beginners fer God knows how long. I don’t know if I’d have patience with little kids and their parents anymore. I have enough trouble with the riders I got showin’. If they don’t win it’s all my fault. If they do, well it’s all on them and I had nothin’ to do with it.” He took another swig of his beer.
“Still,” Zeb pressed on, “a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.”
“Yeah, Ty,” Barney added. “At least you got a skill you can use. I don’t know nothing’ but how to sell trucks and trailers, and that ain’t happening right now.”
Tyler sighed again. Maybe Zeb and Barney were right. Maybe he should look into giving lessons again.
Zeb seemed to sense Tyler was thinking about it. “Go on, put an ad up and see what happens. You could put it on Craigslist. Who knows, you might make out like a bandit. Folks might take some lessons and then want to buy a horse and then they’d need tack and you could send ’em ta me.” He took a drink of his beer and winked at the cowboy.
“Then they’d need a truck and trailer to haul to shows and I might get called back to work!” Barney added.
All three laughed.
“Well, that maybe’d work,” Tyler said thoughtfully. “Where do I get a hold of this Craig fella ta get on his list?”
“God, Tyler! What century are ya livin’ in? Craigslist is like the old classified ads in the papers. It’s on the Internet,” Barney said.
Tyler kinda shrugged and looked away, feeling embarrassed.
“Wait a minute. You still ain’t bought a computer, have ya?” Zeb said with a laugh.
Barney joined in. “Come on, Tyler. We told you a year ago that you needed a computer if you were gonna do business these days.”
“Don’t need one,” Tyler said defensively. He didn’t want to admit he’d tried looking into the modern technology but had decided it was too complicated for him. “I do just fine as it is.”
“Yeah, well, wasn’t it you that was just sayin’ your business was off and ya didn’t know what you was gonna do? Or was that some other fella wearin’ a western shirt and a Stetson occupyin’ yer body?”
“I don’t have a computer. Don’t see how that’d change things anyway! There! You satisfied?” Tyler asked with finality.
“Do you at least have a cell phone? Barney asked sarcastically. “Then if you do place an ad they can at least call ya. Or would you rather they used smoke signals?” He laughed again.
“Shut your face. I got me a cell,” Tyler said sullenly.
Barney kept chuckling.
“Could use the computer at the library. They’d be happy to help ya,” Zeb told Tyler as he signaled the waitress for another pitcher of beer for the men. “Or come over to the store. I’ll let you use mine.”
Tyler thought about this. He knew it was his pride talking when he refused Zeb’s offer to help. He knew he wouldn’t go to the library either. It would be too hard to admit he didn’t know the first thing about computing. But he did realize he had to do something to bring in a little more money. He’d think about it over the weekend. The pitcher arrived and the conversation turned to other topics.
* * * *
By Monday Tyler had made up his mind he’d give lessons a try; but he’d decided he would place an ad the old fashioned way: in the newspaper. So after feeding the horses and turning them out he drove his F250 into town, heading for the business office of The Sentinel.
“Can I help you?” a pretty young woman asked as he walked up to the counter.
“Yes ma’am. I’d like to put an ad in the paper,” Tyler replied.
“Sure thing.” The woman smiled, reached under the counter and brought out several sheets of paper. “Here are our rates. As you can see the longer the ad runs the cheaper it is overall.”
Tyler looked over the rate sheet. He decided the long-term ad would make more sense.
“This form is for what you want to say. You pay by the word as well as the run time of the ad. If you have any questions, just let me know.”
She smiled again. Tyler thanked her and she went back to her desk.
He stood looking at the form. He hadn’t thought ahead of what he would say; but to save a few bucks he’d keep it short and sweet. He decided to add a little line at the end to make it more interesting and to show Barney and Zeb he wasn’t all that out of it. After writing the ad he came to the section where the advertiser chose a category.
Jobs wanted. No that’s not right. I got me a job.
Help wanted. I ain’t lookin’ to hire nobody.
For sale. Ain’t sellin’ nothin’. Well, sort of I am.
Items Wanted. Don’t want nothin’ ‘cept students.
Services. That might be good. But this could be fer things like house cleanin’ and caterin’ and baby sittin’. Naw, don’t think so.
Personals?
Dang, I don’t know which one to check.
Tyler looked up. He was going to a
sk the young woman which category riding lessons would fit in, but she was busy on the phone and was sitting with her back to him. He sighed and looked at his watch. He’d best be getting back to the barn. He had some work to do with a couple horses, and he wanted to get it done before it got too hot.
He looked at the form once more and checked personals.
Just then the young woman hung up the phone and came back to the counter. “All set?”
“Yes, ma’am, I think so,” he replied.
She quickly checked the form, counted the words and calculated the fee. Tyler paid her and was on his way. As he got into his pick up and started driving off he thought, Wonder why she gave me that funny look when she was checkin’ the form? Ain’t she never heard of nobody givin’ ridin’ lessons afore?
* * * *
Gordon Burkhart sat in front of his computer. He was reading an email from his friend Tim in New York City.
Hey, man. How are things in Hicksville? he read.
Gordon had recently moved to the Midwest from Manhattan where he’d been an assistant claims manager in a large national insurance firm. The firm was cutting back on personnel and Gordon—along with many others—had been shuffled around the country to smaller offices. He was lucky his seniority had kept him from getting a pink slip.
Bet there isn’t a lot of action. Your trusty right hand is going to get a lot of exercise.
Gordon finished reading the letter and responded:
It’s not exactly Hicksville. The population is about 100K, but you’re right, it isn’t swinging either. No gay bars and after checking the net not a single ad for anyone looking to hook up within a hundred miles. Yep, the trusty old right hand is getting a workout all right.
After finishing the letter he sighed and clicked SEND.
Shutting down the computer for the night he flipped on the television. There was nothing there that held his attention either. The local cable company carried only the basic programming and he hadn’t checked on satellite TV as yet.
Oh well. At least I have a job, he thought as he turned off the tube, went to the bathroom and got ready for bed.
He crawled beneath the sheets, his right hand made it’s way down to his crotch for its nightly workout. Images of bodybuilders, construction workers, and military men rolled on the screen of his mind. A picture of a tall, muscular cowboy in tight Wrangler jeans and plaid shirt open to the waist with sleeves rolled up exposing massive biceps appeared.
Gotta be some way to find someone like this to…Gordon groaned and let the thought go as his dick erupted.
* * * *
The next morning Gordon picked up a local newspaper along with his coffee on his way to work. He went into his office and shut the door. After a review of the messages his secretary had left on his desk he opened the paper and browsed through the news as he sipped his coffee. Working for a company that insured many of the folks here about, keeping up with the goings on of the town was important.
After reading an article about the fortunes of the local high school football team he was about to put the paper aside when a thought struck him. Check the personals. Yeah, why not? Could be the guys here still put themselves out in the old fashioned way. Flipping to the back of the paper, he found the classifieds. Let’s see, personals, personals. Ah, yeah, here we go.
The first two ads were men looking for wives. One wanted a woman who could cook. The other didn’t care if she could cook as long as she was a stunning beauty. Oh my God! Gordon thought. The third was a woman looking for a golden retriever to breed her poodle, Sally, in hopes of producing golden doodles—profits to be shared.
Ah, maybe Tim was right, Hicksville.
Hmmm, what’s this? The next ad caught his eye.
Interested in riding lessons? Beginner to advanced. Experienced trainer/instructor. Available any time of day. Happy to give you the ride of your life.
The telephone number followed.
Now this has possibilities, Gordon thought. He wrote the number on a piece of paper and put it in his pocket. His first appointment was due in a few minutes. He’d call the number later.
* * * *
The first chance Gordon had to call was at lunchtime. He got the paper with the number out of his pocket and punched it into his cell phone, leaned back in his desk chair and hummed as he counted the rings. After four he thought maybe the ad was just a crank posting, but then a deep, sexy voice said, “Hello?”
Wow, now this does have possibilities, Gordon thought as he felt a tingle in his groin. “Hi. I’m calling about your ad in the paper for…uh,” Gordon smiled, “riding lessons.”
“Oh, yeah…um…sure. Thanks for callin’. Would ya be interested in lessons fer a kid or adult?” the deep voice continued.
“You give lessons to kids?” Gordon asked in surprise.
“I’m really not inta kids. Ta be honest I’m more comfortable with adults.”
Gordon shook his head and chuckled. “This would definitely be for an adult…me.”
“That’s fine,” the voice continued. “Are you a beginner or do ya have some experience?”
“Oh, I’ve had a good deal of experience. Been…ha ha…riding for years.”
“Okay, that works for me, too. In fact I prefers guys with experience. Any particular ridin’ skills you’d like to work on? By the way I only do western ridin’. If you’re interested in other styles—?”
“Western is fine.” This guy sure gets into this charade of the riding lessons thing. “ Um.” Gordon bit his lip. “I really like bareback. But I don’t know if you’d be into that?”
There was a pause at the other end of the line. Then the sultry voice said slowly, “I do some bareback, but I don’t know about that. Even with some ridin’ experience it’s usually best for me to start using the right equipment…just for yer own protection, ya understand. After I got to know ya some and checked out yer background in the saddle, well maybe we could talk about bareback. That okay with you?”
Gordon smiled again, his dick hardening. “Better safe than sorry, I guess.”
“Right, don’t wanna take no chances. Uh…just need some information. Wanna give me your stats so I can be sure I got the right size mount for ya?”
This was getting more interesting all the time. Between the sexy voice and the nature of the questions Gordon was getting turned on. “Well,” he began, “I’m about six-one, weigh one eighty-five. Workout pretty regular so I’m in good shape.” He was about to add that he had a seven inch, thick cock and pretty big balls, but the voice interrupted.
“That’s sounds good. Hate givin’ lessons to someone who’s real outta shape. Makes it pretty hard to get into correct ridin’ position and then they don’t have the stamina to last very long.”
“I know what you mean,” Gordon answered. “You can be sure I got the stamina and the staying power. I could ride for a couple of hours easy.”
“Well, the lessons will be an hour long.”
“Couldn’t we make them last longer? Gordon asked with a smile. “I like a long ride.”
“Well, to tell the truth, most folks are pretty well tuckered out after one a my lessons. An hour’s usually the best. My name’s Ty Steele by the way. And yours…”
“Uh…Gordon.”
“Ya got a last name, Gordon? I like ta have that fer ma records.”
Gordon didn’t like giving out his last name when he first met someone. Even though he was out, he found it best to fly a bit under the radar until he got to know the person. But since Ty had been forthright he answered, “Burkhart.”
“That spelled with a ‘u’ or a ‘e’?” Ty asked.
What the fuck difference does that make for a hook-up? Gordon thought, but said, “a ‘u’”
“Thanks. Now how about time? I’m free ‘most anytime. What’s your schedule like?”
By now Gordon was ready to go as soon as possible. The sexy voice and role play had him horny and hot. “I can make it anytime you say.”
/> “Well, let’s see, don’t have no one comin’ in fer trainin’ tomorrow. How about two tomorrow afternoon?”
“That’s great,” Gordon replied enthusiastically. Then a thought occurred to him. “Do you have lots of folks coming in for training?”
“Not as many as I used to have. Been a bit slow lately. If it’s references you’re interested in I can give you some names?”
“No, no, I was just curious. Ah…do you ever do group lessons?” Gordon wasn’t above a ménage every now and then and this guy was doing a good job of revving up his libido.
“Once in a while if everyone is on the same page skill-wise. But I prefer one on one. Can really get into the lesson better that way, work out those intimate details of technique. Get people in a group and somebody usually gets left out and then feelin’s get hurt.”
Gordon shuddered. “I’m liking what I’m hearing more and more,” he said. “How do I find you?”
“The address is 2205 Bronner Road. You need directions?”
“No, I have a GPS. Ah…how will I recognize you?”
Ty laughed. “Well, first off, won’t be anyone here at that time but me. But even if there was I’d be the only six foot four cowboy around. And oh yeah. You got boots? I require all my riders to wear boots with a heel.”
Gordon let out a long breath and adjusted himself in his pants. “I do have boots, Ty,” Gordon lied. Images of him and the yet unknown cowboy naked except for their boots flashed through his mind. He would stop and get some cowboy boots the next day. “See you tomorrow then, Ty.”
“Thanks, Gordon. Lookin’ forward to gettin’ you in the saddle.”
“Me, too, Ty, me, too!”
“Just need yer phone number in case fer some reason I have ta cancel.”
Gordon took a deep breath. God, please no! “I sure hope that doesn’t happen. I’m really looking forward to the lesson.”
Tyler responded, “Doubt that it will, but ya never can tell.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Gordon gave Ty his phone number, and the men said good-bye. Immediately after hanging up the phone, Gordon called his secretary and had her cancel all his appointments for the next afternoon.
Western Pleasure Page 1
