Hey Good Buddy

The two had fought each other to exhaustion, each one trying to master the other, until finally they rolled away from each other in the bed of ferns. Joe was the first one to laugh.

"Yeah, but who woulda' known?" Al muttered. "You're such a cute little guy, and you've been eyeing me. I know you have."

"That's because you're such a big hunk—a real bear," Joe answered. "I can admire good muscle definition as well as the next guy." They were both laying on their backs, resting on their elbows, only in their unbuttoned green regulation shirts and their boots. The two were sprawled side by side under the low, protective branches of a tall fir tree. They were far enough off the trail leading up to Lower Mesa Falls that there was little chance of anyone stumbling on them—certainly not a park ranger. Joe and Al were the only two rangers in this section of Yellowstone Park.

"I think I had every reason to believe that this was the muscle you wanted to admire," Al, the big bear, said, as he fisted his still-hard cock with both hands—without overlap. Then he laughed too. Al always laughed at his own jokes. Sometimes others didn't—not just because they weren't as impressed with his jokes as he was, but also because of his intimidating size and the thick matting of black curly hair on his deeply tanned arms and spilling out of the neck of his shirt. He tried to keep the growth down on his chin, but his five-o'clock shadow had been building since 6:00 a.m.

"That's a very nice muscle, yes," Joe answered. "But as we both now know, we both like to be on the giving end of a 'hide the muscle' game, so this has all been very nice, but—" Joe reached for his gray trousers and started to rise from the ferns.

"Hey, wait. You aren't gonna leave me in this condition, are you?" Al was gesturing at his prodigious hard on.

"What do you propose?"

"Ever done a 69?"

Joe had, and they both therefore managed to come, but it wasn't easy going, and they had to apply more personal attention to their personal equipment than the project probably was worth.

"Kinda tame, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, for you too?" Al answered. "But better than nothing."

"But not better than what's possible," Joe answered after a few minutes as they lay there wishing it had been better.

"Meaning?"

"Maybe a bit of hunting would be rewarded."

"Out here? If you haven't noticed, you and I haven't seen much of anyone but each other for a couple of days—and we've both seen how much good that does. We could just go back to the station and put on a couple of DVDs. I guess I don't need to hide mine now or pretend like I don't know you've got 'em too."

"No, I mean hunting like in for real tail. You know what's down just outside the park near Ashton, don't you?"

"Sage brush and scrub pines?"

"There's a dude ranch down there too."

"Several of them, I think. So?"

"So, one of them—one of the ones closest to the park boundaries—is a gay dude ranch. And those guys come up into the park. I've seen them fucking inside the park."

"I'm not that much into just lookin'."

"Neither am I. I've seen them doing other things too. Interested in a little bit of fishing?"

"Fishing?"

"Fishing for pleasure. Oh, hell, get up and button up and come with me. We'll do a little bit of hunting and fishing."

Al had nothing better to do, so he just grunted, rose up out of the crushed ferns, pulled on his briefs and trousers, adjusted his shirt, and headed out in the direction Joe had already taken.

"Hey, wait up for me. Where we going?"

"Henry's Fork," Joe growled over his shoulder. "Upper branch. You comin' or not?"

* * * *

The two stood there, behind bushes and trees, watching the young guy for quite some time before they made a move. Joe had assured Al that it would only be a matter of time before they could make a move.

"See that pile of beer cans there? He can't last too much longer."

The guy was young, one of those blonds with spiked hair—too blond to naturally be his, although he probably wasn't too far off blond, they discovered when he took his T-shirt off and was just in shorts. The hair on his body was a light, blondish down.

He was thin, what you'd call willowy, with a nice body that was only lightly muscled, but muscled enough to say he wasn't too girlish. His face was sort of girlish, though, more pretty and sultry than manly handsome. His eyes were sort of broodish and his lips sensual and thick. He obviously liked jewelry, because he had multiple piercings with silver rings in them: an eyebrow, an ear, his lip—and when he finally rose up from where he was sitting and stretched and turned half facing Joe and Al, they could see he had a ring in his navel too. His shorts hung low on his slim hips. The curls of pubic hair from his groin peeking out from below his waistband showed light auburn tones.

"There, told you he wasn't a natural blond," Joe whispered.

"Sortta close, though. Looks kinda sissy to me," Al answered with a little snort.

"Out here beggars and choosers and such," Joe whispered back. "Besides, chances are good we won't be stuck with a third top with nowhere to go. I think he's kinda cute. You don't seem to be put off yourself. You've been workin' your yang for several minutes now."

"I'm so keyed up now, I could probably fuck a deer. I got a yin to use my yang."

"Shhh," Joe admonished. "I think we're about to be in business."

The young guy had been sitting beside a stream, where water was racing across rocks in the streambed. He had been sitting next to one of several deeper pools of water, lazily casting into the pool with a fishing line on a bamboo rod and frequently looking away from the pool and taking a swig of beer from the six-pack he'd brought. He looked like he was down to his last can. And he hadn't caught anything, even though the flash of light off of fish scales where the stream raced between the rocks promised that there were, indeed, fish to catch.

The young man stood and stretched. He pulled his pole back from the water and wedged the end of it between two rocks, leaving the line dangling in the water.

The shorts the guy was wearing were cut-off jeans, with practically no leg to them. A beam of sunlight caught his body as he grasped his fists behind his neck and stretched, working out the kinks, showing off his torso to the best effect. Al gave a little growl.

"Down, boy," Joe whispered. "You're going to get a piece of that."

"You sure?" Al answered. "He's going to get away."

"I don't think so. Wait for it. Just a couple of seconds more."

The young man was gingerly moving out into the stream, moving from one smooth-topped rock to another, being very careful because he was barefoot. His sandals were sitting by the side of the stream next to his T-shirt.

Reaching the middle of the stream, the young man turned toward where the water was rushing from.

Al moaned as the young man unbuttoned his fly, spread the sides of his skimpy denim shorts, and fished out his cock. Holding that in his hand, he arched his back and began to piss in a long, steady, golden arch—into the onrushing waters of the stream.

"Now," Joe growled. Not caring how much noise he was making, he strode out of the tree line and to the bank of the stream. Al stumbled out of the scrub too, in Joe's wake.

"Hey, good buddy. Watcha doin'?" Joe called out in a thunderous voice.

Startled, the young man nearly slipped off the rocks and into the stream. As fast as he could, he jammed his cock back into his shorts, but he left the fly unbuttoned, showing a cascade of curly light-brown hair in the gap.

"Fishing," he answered, although it sounded more like a croak. He could clearly see that he was facing two park rangers. He could also see that the big, scary, bear of the two had one of the biggest and thickest half-hard cocks he'd ever seen protruding out of this fly and being held in his fist. He'd sensed he hadn't mouthed the world "fishing" right and was about to say it again, but he swallowed the word the second time in the realization that he didn't have any sort of license to be fishing in a national park. He'd just slipped away from the dude ranch and come up into the park, following the bank of Henry's Fork. He'd come to the ranch for the fucking, but he'd been more of a sensation there than he had figured. He was fucked out for the moment—or at least had thought he was.

"Sorry, I don't have a license," he sheepishly admitted, not being able to keep his eyes off Al's club of a cock, "But I haven't caught anything. Maybe we can—"

"Fishing's the least of your problems, young man. What were you doing out there in the middle of the stream?"

"Just relieving myself."

"Relieving yourself, you say? Where did you come from? Did you come into the park from that all-men's dude ranch down outside of Ashton?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, but I—"

"How old are you, son?" Joe was doing what he could to put on his official face and tone. It was hard for him to do and not laugh, though, with Al standing beside him and pulling on his meat. The young man was mesmerized by Al's cock. His own staff had come out of the gap in his shorts again and was standing up from his brown bush.

"Twenty."

"Yeah, right."

"I've got ID. There in my wallet, under my T-shirt."

"It's OK, I'll believe you. We can check the ID down at the sheriff's office."

"No, please," the young man moaned. "I didn't catch any fish."

"It isn't about the fish, son," Joe said with a mock sternness in his voice. "It's about that there pissing in the stream. Do you know where that water goes that you just pissed in?"

"Down the mountainside?" the young man answered. He sounded like he wasn't sure. And he sounded like he didn't know where this was going. He was licking his lips and staring at Al's cock, though, which had gone full hard in Al's hand.

"Yeah, down the mountainside. Past that dude ranch you're stayin' in. That water you just polluted is going into the water you'd be drinking in about a half an hour if you were down at that ranch. We take environmental protection very seriously in our national parks. We're gonna have to take you down to the sheriff's office in Ashton."

The young man moaned.

"Unless . . ." Al said.

"Unless what?" the young man whimpered.

"Unless you give it up for Ranger Al here and me. You come from that dude ranch, and I can see that you want it from Al. Open your legs for us both and we'll just overlook that pollution charge—even though we take environmental protection real seriously in this park."

* * * *

Joe and Al stood side by side, arms entwined, on the stream bank as the young man knelt before them and alternately gave each of their cocks attention with his mouth. They groaned almost in unison as he tried to take both cocks together in his mouth at once. Al was particularly pleased when he found that the young man had a ball stud in his tongue too—and knew full well what to do with it.

"Hey, lookee here. He's got a ring down here too," Al rang out with glee. The young man was stretched out on his side along a log, with Joe standing behind him, lifting his leg with one hand, and fucking him in a side split. The young man's head was arched over the end of the log and Joe was slow-pumping his throat with his cock. Al had just reached over to pay attention to the young man's cock and found the ring at the base of his penis, where the perineum began, and pulled gently on it.

"Look, it makes the cock bounce," he said.

The young man moaned.

Joe had claimed firsties, because it was his idea and his setup. Al good-naturedly acquiesced, with the comment, "You'd best go first. After I'd reamed him, he probably couldn't even feel you fuckin' him."

The young man came with Al stroking him and moaned and gagged as Al rubbed his tonsils.

For Al's turn, Al was sitting on the log, and the young man, was sitting in his lap, facing him and fucking himself on Al's staff by leveraging off the soft earth of the stream side with the balls of his feet. He was crouching more than sitting, though, so that he only had to take half of Al inside him. Joe was standing behind the young man, with his hands covering and worrying the young man's nipples. He was nuzzling the young man's neck with his face and trying to tease the young man to turn his face for a kiss. But the young man was more interested in exploring Al's hairy chest with his hands and lips.

"Enough of this shit," Al declared. He grabbed the young man by his waist, lifted his body and then jammed it down on his cock. The slight blond howled as Al started pumping his ass on his cock, slamming him up and down, burying the monster cock to the quick with each pull.

The young man's torso flopped back toward the ground, and Joe stifled his cries by pushing his cock between the young man's lips and beginning a slow pump.

Afterward the young man lay on his back between the log and the edge of the stream, his arm flung over his face, and moaned quietly.

Joe and Al sat next to each other on the log, both looking satiated and very satisfied with themselves.

"Hey, lookee there," Al sang out, "I think you've got a bite. Better pull in your line."

The young man moaned. He didn't move.

Joe went over and pulled in the line. "Yep. You got one. And it's a beauty. For another fuck, we'll let you take it home, no worries about a license. And no worry about pollution, either. It came from upstream. Your piss is down at the dude ranch now."

The young man moaned. Al leaned over and grabbed him by the waist.

The young man went home with his fish.

* * * *

"Hey, we're close to the stream," Joe said, as the two trudged along in the park the next day. "We might as well check it out."

They didn't bother to approach the spot of the previous day quietly. They just tromped in, laughing and joking with each other. They surely could be heard from a good distance.

As they entered the clearing, Joe and Al stopped in their tracks, both taking on big smiles.

"Hey, good buddies. Watcha doin'?" Joe sang out.

Their young man had brought a friend. The two twinks, each wearing just skimpy denim shorts, with their flies unbuttoned, turned from where they were standing in the middle of Henry's Fork stream, both still pissing in wide arcs into the center of the racing stream, both having broken into broad grins.

The eyes of both of them went to Al's fly, where he already had his monster cock out, ready to give them both a lesson in environmental protection—which Yellowstone Park takes very seriously.