Ranger Ric

Ranger Rick

by AgingAthlete

No underage anybody in this story in spite of the use of the term 'boy'. Homoerotic, consensual, soft-leather 'Dad-son' roleplay.

...

It was late afternoon when Buck pulled up to the ranger station and parked his Jeep. It was the entrance to Pronghorn State Park and in order to use the park's road to get to the cabin he had to have a pass. The only other vehicle present was a white Ford Ranger, marked with the state seal on its doors and the word RANGER printed on the hood, which he found amusing given that it was a Ranger.

Going in there was a young man behind the counter that he didn't recognize.

"You must be new here, Ranger" Buck stated, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, sir. I just graduated from state with my forestry degree," he replied proudly, "How can I help you?"

Buck laid his license on the counter and said, "I need a week pass for the park, I'm staying at the Jackson cabin over on White Falls Road."

"Very good, sir. That will be ten dollars."

Buck glanced at the name tag on the young man's chest. "You play football at state, Rick?"

"Yes, sir. Did you?"

"Seventy-four, seventy-five," Buck said, taking a ten from his wallet. "Not a winning season while I was there."

"We had some good teams." Rick prepared the pass, jotted Buck's license number in the logbook and handed his license back to him.

Buck took the pass and put his license back in his wallet.

"Wait a minute," he said chuckling, "You're 'Ranger Rick' and you look nothing like a raccoon!"

Rick laughed, "I get that a lot, sir. Are you on vacation?"

"No, son," Buck explained, "I retired a year ago, I just needed to come up here and clear my head. A buddy owns the cabin and has let me use it for years. I'd come up here with my son, but he and I had a falling out, so I'm here alone."

"Sorry to hear that sir, were you by any chance a lineman?" Rick said.

"Sure was, how'd you know?" Buck said, looking intensely at Rick.

"The boots and that belt gave it away."

Rick pointed to the loop on Buck's belt. "That's a knife scar, isn't it?"

Buck nodded. "From a stubborn son of a bitch line. Last week before I retired."

"Sounds like quite a career, sir."

"It was." Buck stood, looking out the window to take in the horizon. The sky was starting to turn the rich gold of an autumn sunset. "Well, good luck to you, Rick. I'll be seeing you. Try not to let the squirrels gang up on you."

"No sir!"

Buck stopped to glance at the brochure stand by the door as Rick came around from behind the counter. The younger man crouched down, the fabric of his snug uniform trousers shifting to accommodate the motion as he replenished an empty slot in the bottom row with a fresh stack of cards.

Buck couldn't help but notice the distinct, subtle lines of a jockstrap that emphasized Rick's impeccably shaped bubble butt. The snug fit of the his uniform trousers accentuated every curve, leaving little to the imagination and drawing Buck's eyes with an almost magnetic pull.

Standing, Rick said "Enjoy your stay, Mr. Jensen," as Buck reached for the door.

"Thanks, I will."

Back in the Jeep, Buck watched as the ranger station grew smaller in the rearview mirror. The road wound through the forest, the pines and aspens towering, their long shadows reaching for each other. The air was different here--cleaner, as if the wind had been too lazy to carry anything but the faintest smell of pine and earth. He rolled down the window, let the coolness rush in.

His mind drifted back to the last time he'd brought his son up here. They'd spent a day hiking, neither talking much, the silence swelling between them like a bruise. Buck knew it was a mental risk coming up here, but after seeing the ranger he felt much better about it. He reached White Falls Road, took the turn without thinking, and before long was at the cabin.

...

The next morning he decided on an early ruck and once he finished his coffee he geared up with two hefty 25-pound plates in his pack. He took the path behind the cabin that led to the Falls Trail. Once he hit the trail he started feeling better. By the time he was a mile in, a light sheen of sweat glistened across his muscular, bare torso strapped in and held taut by his pack harness, catching the soft rays of the rising sun. The recent haircut and beard trim he had gotten the day before left him feeling refreshed and unencumbered, as the gentle breeze played against his skin.

At the falls was a small rest area that included a few picnic tables, a water-pump fountain and a porta-potty set back in towards the woods. As he approached he heard a sound that every man is familiar with, the distinctive slapping of a cock being wanked. He couldn't help but smile because whoever it was didn't realize he was there.

More curious than anything, he circled the porta-potty from the back, realizing that the door was wide open, facing the dense woods.

Inside was Ranger Rick, trousers bunched around his knees, an ecstatic grin on his face. Buck watched, unsure of whether to laugh or say something. Rick had dropped a couple of magazines, and from Buck's angle, he could see himself on the cover of both. They were trade journals for linemen, the kind Buck never read after he retired. In all his natural modesty, he never thought he was cover material, but there he was, sure as anything.

"Looks like you have a bit of a problem there, boy," Buck said, using the diminutive term and startling Rick.

Rick fumbled to cover up, knocking the porta-potty door against the frame with a noisy bang as he stood. "Oh, shit!"

"Mr. Jensen! I didn't see you there. This... this isn't what it looks like!"

Buck gave a guffaw. "I don't know boy, it looks like you're about to set a speed record."

Rick, still flustered, pulled his jockstrap up. "I swear I was just--I come here early to check the picnic area."

"I see. I guess you checked it real thoroughly."

Buck enjoyed watching Rick squirm, then ordered, "Just stand there, I want a better look."

Rick looked confused and embarrassed. This could mean his job so he figured cooperation might keep him out of trouble. He stopped trying to pull his uniform pants up and stood while Buck examined him with an appraising look.

"Got a nice package there, Ranger."

Rick, still self-conscious, asked, "You're not going to report me, are you, Mr. Jensen?"

"No, boy. Just giving you a hard time."

Buck saw the relief wash over Rick's face like a breaking wave.

"Your secret's safe, but from now on I expect you to call me Sir."

Rick looked down at his cock. "I guess I got a little carried away Sir, seeing you--" he stopped, embarrassed.

"Seeing me on the cover of those magazines?"

Rick gulped. "Yes, sir."

"All you had to do was ask. I would have shown you this in person." Buck reached up, gripped the top edge of the doorway, and started doing slow, steady pull-ups.

Rick's mouth dropped open. His cock, still hard, poked out above the stretched band of his jockstrap. Buck liked to wear his lifting shorts when he hiked and now his huge bulge and rippling abs mesmerized Rick as they moved up and down in front of him.

Buck let out a whoosh as he dropped down after doing five."I could do more if I wasn't wearing my pack."

"Now what we have here," he continued, giving an appraising eye to Rick's waistband, "is a situation that warrants some attention."

At that Rick's erection deflated and he bent to pull up his pants saying, "Sir, this won't happen again."

"I told you to stand there," Buck spoke menacingly as Rick snapped up straight, "You are not to speak unless spoken to and the only thing I want to hear out of you is 'Yes, sir', or 'No, sir'. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Rick said meekly, still unsure of what was happening.

"Louder boy, I can't hear you."

"YES, SIR!"

"Now listen up, when is your duty day over?"

"The ranger station closes at four, that's when I get off...sir."

"Well then, at 1600 you will lock up and come to the Jackson cabin for some correction and after that I'll personally guarantee this won't happen again."

"Correction, Sir?" Rick asked hesitantly.

"Either that or I call the park service, which will it be boy?"

"I'll be there, Sir."

"Now pull up your pants and don't touch your dick again!"

...

Back at the cabin, Buck showered then made a huge breakfast and ate it all. He spent the rest of the morning relaxing on the porch, sipping coffee, and looking out at the surrounding pines and the whispering aspens. It was quiet. The same quiet that had been there last time, when his son had hardly spoken a word, when Buck's voice had been the only one that dared break the silence. Still, he felt it was different now. He had something to look forward to and that had made all the difference. But his thoughts continued to drift to the boy again, his own son.

He'd been a hell of a lineman apprentice. The best, Buck would tell folks, even when the boy would shake his head in quiet protest. That last time they'd been up here, together but not together, the stubborn silence had finally broken as they packed up to leave.

The boy had said he didn't want to go into the trades, didn't want to be like Buck. Buck had yelled after him "You'll be Journeyman in a month!". The boy left, not looking back, and they hadn't talked since.

Thinking this far into it, Buck tried to clear his mind. He'd be damned if anyone told him he didn't know how to handle a kid like Rick, and he felt a new energy.

He also felt a twinge of anticipation he hadn't felt in years. Not since before his wife left him. Not since he had gone up a pole for the first time in what seemed like forever, pike spikes digging into the sturdy wood, his body soaring and free, the sky endless above him along with a 100,000 volts of power singing around him.

He headed out to the woodshed behind the cabin. This event called for something special and he knew exactly what he wanted to make. He selected a large slab of oak and got to work.

Using a handsaw and chisels, he began to rough out a paddle. It was rectangular and broad, a little over two feet long including the handle. He drilled evenly spaced holes with an auger and then carved the edges down with his lineman's knife and sanded them smooth. Then he applied a thick coat of linseed oil and set it to dry. It was mid-afternoon when he finished.

It was time to tie one on with a little more oomph so he poured himself a generous shot of rye. Sitting on the porch, he thought about Rick with his pants down and chuckled. That boy hadn't even made an attempt to play it off, just stood there with a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. Buck had caught plenty of young men red handed, but never one that fit so well into a uniform. That was a rare thing, and he fully intended to make the most of it.

By late afternoon the air had taken on a distinct chill. He went inside and lit a fire in the fireplace, then made sure everything was just right. The cabin was fairly large with a huge great room in the front as you came in, a kitchen and dining area and even a cozy corner beside the huge fireplace with bookshelves. Buck laid the paddle on the hearth in front of the fireplace.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in, boy," Buck shouted.

Rick entered. He was still wearing his uniform along with a nervous expression.

"Shut the door and come to attention," Buck ordered.

"Yes, sir," Rick answered as he assumed the classic military pose.

"You know why you are here?" Buck asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy, now get that uniform off--fold it neatly and put it on the chair to your right."

Rick hesitated for a moment and then started unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled it off and folded it neatly, placing it on the chair. Buck was sitting next to the fireplace watching him as he sipped his whiskey.

Rick removed his boots and then his socks, tucking the socks inside the boots. He took off his trousers, neatly folded them, and placed them on the pile. Next, he peeled off his t-shirt, revealing a white, classic ACE wide-band strap. His lean torso was slightly tanned, with well-defined pecs and abs. The brown cub-fuzz that covered the upper half of his chest gathered like a funnel to make a narrow trail down that disappeared into the top of the waistband of his jock.

He went back to attention.

"Sir!"

"Now boy," Buck said coldly, "Get over in front of that fireplace, drop and give me fifty push-ups and kiss that board that's lying on the floor with each rep."

Rick turned towards the fireplace and saw the huge paddle lying on the floor in front of it for the first time. He gulped. "Yes, sir."

Buck watched as Rick dropped to the floor, his muscular back flexing with each downward motion. The jockstrap fit snugly around Rick's ass, and Buck could see everything. Rick's lips brushed the oiled wood with each rep, his pace steady.

"One, sir," he called out loud as he let his lips brush the paddle. "Two, sir. Three, sir."

Buck sipped his whiskey and watched Rick do five, and then ten. The boy was in great shape, a bit like Buck when he was younger, and he was impressed at how resilient he was. Rick was at 45-five when Buck stood and put his glass on the mantle.

"Fifty, sir!" Rick said after he gave his fiftieth kiss.

"Good boy," Buck said, "Now get up and hand me that paddle."

"Yes, sir!" Rick jumped to his feet, picked up the paddle, and delivered it to Buck.

"Back to attention," Buck commanded.

Rick snapped back into position and Buck could see he was rock hard again.

"On your knees, boy, hands on top your head," Buck ordered as he stood over him. "You know why I had you kiss this board?"

"Because I was bad, sir?"

"No, boy. Because I wanted you to get acquainted with it, so there are no surprises."

Buck pushed the back of Rick's head forward and then swung the paddle hard and fast on his butt. It made a loud, cracking sound, the jockstrap offering little protection. Rick raised his head and gasped.

Buck paused and said, "I want you to count these too."

"Yes, Sir! That was one sir!"

Buck gave him another, and another, switching from side to side as Rick shouted out the count, his voice quavering more and more with each stroke. A red color had spread where the wood landed, his ass on fire, his eyes full of water.

"Ten, sir," Rick sobbed.

"Now boy," Buck said, "What did you learn today?"

"That I don't need to--"

Buck interrupted him with another stroke.

"That I am not to touch myself, sir," Rick corrected his earlier thought.

Buck gave him another, harder than the rest, and Rick's voice cracked as he shouted, "Twelve, sir."

"I'd say that's a lesson we won't have to teach again," Buck said, holding the paddle in front of him. "Wouldn't you?"

"YES, SIR!" Rick said, still on his knees, shivering from the burn.

Then Buck pushed the edge of the paddle to Ricks lips, "Bite on this!" he ordered as Rick gripped the heavy paddle in his mouth.

Buck's own desire was getting difficult to hide. "You're a good boy. I didn't even tell you to get hard."

"Yeth, sir."

Rick seemed relieved as he struggled to hold on to the paddle. Buck took it from him, looked at the teeth marks and commented, "Yep, that's what I wanted to see. This paddle will only be used on you. Understand?"

He looked up at Buck, "Yes, SIR!" and asked, "Can I show you how much I learned, sir?"

"On one condition," Buck said. "You can't stop until I tell you to. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Rick said eagerly.

He undid Buck's shorts, taking a moment to sniff in the heady aroma of musk, and pulled them down and off. Buck's dick sprang free, and Rick's eyes widened as he grabbed it with both hands and went to work. Just like the morning, Buck thought, this boy started fast.

There was no awkwardness, no hesitation. Rick seemed eager to please, and Buck had to give it to him, the young man knew exactly what he was doing. Rick's mouth moved quickly, faster than Buck expected. It caught him off guard, and he was breathing hard, an almost involuntary sigh escaping his lips.

"Slow down, boy!"

Rick paused, just long enough to say, "Yeth, sir," his voice muffled.

That boyish grin, that deer-in-the-headlights look, had given way to something else, something Buck hadn't seen at first. Determination. Hunger. Rick was relentless, his head bobbing long and deep throating Buck, while one hand squeezed the base of the man's shaft and the other cupped his huge balls.

"Goddamn, boy," Buck said, feeling it build up. "You're gonna make me--"

Before he could finish the thought, Rick doubled his pace and Buck came, an explosive intensity he hadn't expected. Rick never missed a stroke, kept going until he'd milked every last ounce. Buck's entire body convulsed, and he put a hand against the mantle to steady himself.

Rick let go, sat back on his haunches and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Thank you, sir."

Buck dragged him to his feet and kissed him deep. Then he turned him around, peeled the jockstrap down over his welted ass, and leaned him forward as his hands grabbed a chair. Rick gasped as Buck pushed inside him.

"This is your correction," Buck said as Rick moaned.

Buck could feel the boy shaking beneath him, bucking back, tight and urgent. Rick's cock was harder than ever and Buck felt a thrill like he hadn't had in years.

He pounded into Rick until at last they both came at the same time. Then Buck pulled out and ordered Rick to stay where he was as he retrieved the paddle again.

Whack! Buck gave Rick an intense broadside across both cheeks.

"Owwww!" Rick yelled, "Sir, what was that for?"

"You were losing that healthy glow so I thought you needed a refresher."

Rick turned around and looked up at Buck, his eyes wide but something in his expression grateful.

"I did, sir," he confessed, "Thank you."

Buck put the paddle down and tossed Rick's jockstrap at him. It landed on his head, and they both laughed.

Rick pulled it off his head and asked, "What do you want me to do with it?" then he quickly added, "Sir."

"I'm gonna let you figure that one out on your own," Buck said with a sly grin.

"Now you got me wondering, how am I supposed to know when you've been a bad boy?"

"Good question, sir." Rick said, "I have a week of vacation coming up and if I stayed here with you, you could make sure I don't fuck up and I could really use some coaching on my pull-ups."

"Great idea. I have a feeling you'll need a lot more correction before the week's out and I really want to show you the woodshed."

"Yes sir, I hope so, sir." Rick put the jockstrap back on and picked his uniform off the chair. His ass was bright red, and Buck thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

The End