The Cherokee horse trainer, Kana’ti, young, tall, muscular, the long, black hair on his head flowing about him as he moved, danced around the Palomino stallion, Jasper, in the corral at Bill Brown’s Valley Heaven ranch outside Sante Fe. Edgar Giles and his fourteen-year-old son, Ethan, eyed the handsome Cherokee as they rode up on their horses, one of which was the mare Brown had agreed to let his prize stallion cover. The Giles ranch lay a two-hours horse ride south along the banks of the Rio Grande River in the New Mexico Territory toward Albuquerque. The Brown and Giles families had been among the longest present ranchers in the territory and often socialized and traded livestock.

“Jasper has been rip snorting all day,” Brown said, as Giles and his son, a handsome, well-formed blond boy, dismounted. “I think he’s more than ready to go. Why don’t you put your mare in with him right off and we’ll see if he’ll perform.”

“Sounds good to me, Bill,” the older Giles answered.

Brown smiled at the younger Giles, “I’m glad you came along, Ethan. It’s been too long since I’ve had the pleasure.”

Ethan smiled back, knowing what Bill Brown meant by that and hoping, certainly, that his father did not. But his father hadn’t seemed to notice anything going on between his boy and the neighboring rancher since they started up with each other shortly after Ethan turned fourteen. Bill Brown was a single man. There was a very good reason for that. He was a wealthy, handsome, large-boned, virile man of commanding presence in his forties who attracted many of the few available women in the region, but he was having none of that.

Brown called over to Kana’ti to hold Jasper while they opened the gate to put the mare inside and then to stand aside to see if and how soon nature would take its course.

“Even if it takes right away,” Brown said to Edgar, “we should leave them together until later this afternoon. Jasper’s good for several covers in a day and the more he breeds your mare the more likely it will take.”

“Sounds about right,” Giles said. “That’s why I brought Ethan along. I have to get back to the ranch, but he can stay and ride the mare back later this afternoon.”

Brown smiled. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, and, indeed, it did set really well with his plans. As the mare, skittish and trembling, entered the corral and Jasper took notice and began to snort and paw the ground, the Cherokee horse trainer went over to the side and perched on the fence, observing and ready to intervene if need be. The three others lined up on another side of the fence, Brown between the two Gileses, to watch.

It wasn’t long before Jasper had nudged the mare out into the center of the corral and was moving around her. And it wasn’t too long after that that the mare, trembling but holding steady, legs splayed and head hanging in submission, was being mounted from the rear. A huge, pinkish shaft was unreeling itself from underneath the stallion’s hindquarters, and as the stallion covered the mare, his front legs hugging her flanks, and the men all watching closely, the shaft found position and penetrated, moving deep. throbbing, the mare’s flanks pulsating. The mare whinnied but held and the stallion snorted, moving deep inside her, pumping her full of his cum. Those watching could almost discern the rhythm of the release by the rippling of her flanks.

Edgar didn’t notice, but as the deed was being down, Brown moved a hand to cup one of Ethan’s butt cheeks and squeeze. The boy didn’t move away from the hand, but Brown might have had a little concern to have observed that the boy’s gaze went from the stallion covering the mare to the young Cherokee sitting on the fence. Kana’ti was bare-chested, his musculature very fine and bronzed, and in low-hanging buckskin pants and moccasins on his feet. He was a magnificent example of young man flesh, not more than twenty-five and in his prime. Sensing he was being spied, he turned his eyes toward the boy and smiled. Ethan smiled back.

Thus far it only had been the older, albeit quite fit, Bill Brown for Ethan and then only on a couple of occasions because of the miles of separations between spreads. The boy had lost his virginity to the man in a hay shed during a dance after a barn raising just north of Santa Fe, Brown drunk, Ethan ripe and ready, and the boy bent over a hay bale.

Ethan was ready to try out a younger, even more fit model, and Cherokees intrigued him, not least because the mixing of the races was quite taboo in the New Mexico Territory at the time. Going with men wasn’t unthinkable, there still being a dearth of women in the territory, but a Cherokee who covered a white man was begging for a lynching.

Jasper was only mounted on the mare for a few minutes before he came off, leaving the quaking mare, legs splayed, holding steady in the center of the ring. Snorting and tossing his glorious blond mane, the gorgeous Palomino cantered around the corral, moving in circles around the mare. The mare, still shuddering a bit, remained standing in the middle of the corral. The stallion obviously was feeling his oats. He pranced and cantered and tossed his mane and it wasn’t long until he was behind the mare again, rising up on top of her from the rear, hugging her flanks between his forelegs, rolling out his huge shaft again, penetrating her and, with a gentle rocking motion, pumping her with his cum again.

“Well, if that don’t do it, I don’t know what will,” Brown said when Jasper came off the mare. “Why don’t you men come in for a drink before you have to ride out, Edgar. I’ve got some mighty fine whiskey—and I think we can find something to fill Ethan with too.” He was talking to the elder Giles, but his eyes were on the withering pink rod of the stallion, the last of its cum dribbling onto the ground.

Brown knew he had the right to think of himself as a stallion in his own right. And a tasty little mare had been brought to him today.

Ethan looked sharply between Brown and his father. He had no doubt what Brown was thinking of filling him with. He had felt the trembling and rhythmic squeezing of the man’s hand on his butt while they were watching Jasper’s shaft throb and move inside the mare.

“Sounds good and then I’d best get back on the trail,” Edgar Giles said.

An hour later, Brown and Ethan were standing close together on the ranch house porch, watching Edgar Giles ride off. Brown was waving with one hand and squeezing one of Ethan’s butt cheeks with the other. The further away Giles rode, the more intimate Brown became, moving his hand up and then under the back of the boy’s waistband and then moving a finger down into the boy’s crack, reaching for and finding his hole. Ethan sighed and leaned closer into the much bigger man’s side.

In the nearby corral, Jasper was mounted on the mare again, gently rocking, breeding her again. Kana’ti was sitting on the fence. He wasn’t watching Jasper covering the mare, though, he was looking at the porch, not a bit fooled by what Brown was doing. Ethan, panting and moaning low, was looking at the Cherokee hunk looking at him.

A half hour later, when Kana’ti came off the fence, sauntered over to the side of the house, and looked in Brown’s bedroom window, he wasn’t the least surprised to see the willowy, smooth-skinned, perfectly formed, naked body of Ethan lying on his back on the bed, his legs raised and spread, and Bill Brown, bare-chested, his pants flared and hanging low on his legs, hovering between the boy’s thighs. Ethan’s fingernails were dug in the man’s bulging biceps. Brown’s fists were planted in the bedspread on either side of the boy’s shoulders. His pelvis was moving forward and back and his plump butt cheeks were contracting and releasing, as he was doing to sweet-lay, fourteen-year-old Ethan what Jasper was doing to the mare out in the corral.

Brown moved an arm under the boy’s waist, raising Ethan’s pelvis toward him. He grabbed the ankle of the boy’s leg on the side away from the window and raised and spread the leg, giving him deeper access into Ethan’s channel and exposing the boy’s ass so that Kana’ti could clearly see the root of the thick, pulsating cock working the small, puckering hole. It seemed impossible for the boy’s opening to take the size of the cock, but it did.