Brandy's Ranch

Copyright by ProfessorR ©

by Prof. Richard W.

(formerly of the University of ____________)

*****

RANCH HANDS - part two

TUESDAY MORNING: Brunch continued

As Dean and Joe chatted with each other, Dean gradually began to realize that the retired Mexican-American businessman was planning on spending the night with Jennifer. Dean could see that it made sense, but he was already planning to test the MILF hand of Brandy's Ranch himself. Unknown to her conscious mind, he had begun to prepare her for that, slipping inside her subconscious, after realizing that she was the most cynical of the troop. He was not going to be able to give her a fair try on SurveySimian if she remained so hostile.

Dean excused himself and went to find Brandy. Soon she had things worked out. Jennifer would go with Dean for this night, but Joe would have a complimentary salt and pepper menage a trois with Taylor and Jessica. For a moment, Dean thought the disappointed look on Joe Martinez' face would remain, but Jessica's enthusiasm about the idea was infectious. Joe grinned and rose, excusing himself.

"I'm going to get washed up and take a little nap. Us old guys need to get rest if we're going to be up all night." He laughed and winked at Jessica, who winked back. Jessica and Caitie disappeared to their rooms to get ready for the swimming line-up. Dean was left alone with Jennifer. She was steaming.

Dean now realized that Jennifer probably was expecting a big tip from the generous old guy, and that she genuinely liked him. And that she was testier than ever. He watched uneasily as she rose from her chair to head for her room. As he watched her well-endowed silhouette passing under the fir tree boughs, he could understand what Joe would have been thinking about on the long drive from Idaho. But now, her mind carried a tiny thought that was growing to allow Dean to open her to craving new demands.

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AFTER THE SWIMMING LINE-UP

That afternoon, two pairs of breasts emerged topless from the lake. Instead of just Caitie, the exhibitionist, there was also a display of Jennifer's generously full figure. As if that was not enough to arouse the male gallery, Jennifer grabbed Caitie in a frontal embrace that should have made the water around their knees sizzle. Customers hurried over to Brandy, eager to sign up for sessions with one or the other or both of the two. But Jennifer would not be available tonight, in spite of her subversive efforts. Brandy was in charge. Caitie reaped the benefit of their performance.

Joe Martinez seemed to have adjusted, Dean chuckled, as he watched the rested retiree head towards the pleasure pods with Taylor on one side and Jessica on the other. Brandy's contribution to ethnic diversity - the playful trio - was almost skipping.

Jennifer, on the other hand, was dragging her feet.

"Okay, let's get it over with," she muttered to Dean. "I owe Brandy a lot, so I'll play along. I know she thinks this is a good idea, but..." Her voice faded as she slid open the door of her pod.

"But what?"

"This racket has been going on for thousands of years without ratings." Dean wondered if she was conscious of her age in what was usually a younger woman's occupation.

"That's not quite true." She raised an eyebrow. "In pioneer Denver the Red Book was a guide to all the best bordellos and it had reader ratings of the more established women. It was sort of the Yelp of its day." They stood silently in her room for a minute.

"Doesn't it occur to you that with your experience you have just as much chance of scoring a high rating as, say Jessica?"

Dean watched her eyes as she took that thought in. It was hard to keep his eyes on hers when below her shoulders her breasts still sparkled wet from her swim. She quivered a bit as a diamond flash of water ran down her breast and her skin cooled.

"You might as well take off the REST of your clothes," he said casually. He caught the blink of her eyes as her subconscious picked out the trance word he had given her earlier. Puzzled, she did as she was told. The customer was almost always right, she may have rationalized.

"And now my clothes..." and her deft hands were at his buttons. Even standing close, her nude body within warmth distance of his, she affected an air of indifference. She was carrying out her job in a light trance, but just as stage hypnotists always assured their subjects, her mind was not being changed.

"I know you're going to try and hypnotize me. I'll bet that's why Caitie thought your cock was super long and Kaylynn thought it was so thick. I think you'll find that I'm not falling for that stage magician stuff!" She snapped off his briefs.

"See, it's just a typical..." Jennifer's voice choked in mid-sentence as Dean's manhood began to extend. Not that it was exceptionally long, but, as she gasped "it's swaying... like a snake!"

"Now you know the REST of the story," Dean calmly intoned. "Watch it closely."

It was the Indian Snake Charmer induction. Prepared in advance, Jennifer, his subject, now imagined that she was being hypnotized by watching Dean's seductively weaving organ. Actually, she already was lightly hypnotized, so she stood transfixed in spite of her apprehension, imagining most of the motion.

"You seem to be enjoying this," he commented with a smile, looking down at her swelling breasts and firming nipples. His eyes slid down over her tummy to the full lips of her vagina. He grazed a hand down the path that his eyes had followed and found her becoming hot and wet. Weakly, she tried to scowl, to protest, but the rising tide of pleasure overwhelmed her.

Dean teased her with his hard shaft, but Jennifer saw it throbbing, bobbing as its tip sought to tease her clit. What would this man do when he is deep inside? Later, she told her friends that all of her preoccupations about the survey idea faded away as her desire mounted. Then her professional cynicism ebbed as she became aware of her primal, aching desire to have his male power at her service.

"I think we should head for bed," Dean grinned.

"I'm frozen to this spot, remember?" She laughed in a tantalizing way. Dean felt his own satisfying wave of pleasure in realizing that she was shedding her attitude. He waved a hand and touched her forehead.

Jennifer blinked and found herself kneeling to kiss Dean's erect - but now conventional looking - penis. She was filled with the desire to take control, to suck him dry now, to have Dean hobble out in the morning singing her praises.

But Dean was in command and guided her to the bed. She watched as he smoothly stretched the required condom over his erect manhood. Then his skilled hands slid over her curves and she felt her legs instinctively spreading as he took possession of her vagina. Squeezing it gently, he began the motion that she knew would compel an orgasm, something that she had faked so many times. Now, she knew it was going to be real. Dean nibbled on her breasts. Jennifer let her conscious mind step aside as she felt her body begin to float deliciously upward.

She was not the only person in the room enjoying her ecstasy. Dean was deep into her excitement. Neither of them heard the dark-windowed limousine roar into the yard. The siren of the sheriff's car following it blended with Jennifer's moans and little urging messages to Dean. Neither of them heard the gate clang shut; all cynicism gone, Jennifer begged to have Dean's hardness inside. Nor did they hear the shouting and arguing as Dean rammed to the rhythm that turned her warm spots into the overlapping lava of a hot volcano.

As the first touch of morning light aroused her from deep sleep, Jennifer blinked and saw Dean, still naked, at the computer terminal.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She licked her lips and let the sheet slowly slip off her breasts.

"I thought you were still asleep. And I'm hungry, so I thought I'd get moving." Jennifer noticed that his penis was the only part of him that began moving. He paused.

"Did you have something in mind?" Dean smiled as he felt his balls begin to work. He hit "Escape" on the computer and walked slowly back to the bed.

As Dean told me later, Jennifer's experienced lips and tongue brought him firmly back to life. She loved the feeling of controlling Dean's tired body, coaxing his sated penis back up to being the hard shaft that had pleasured her so deeply the night before. Her gentle tugging and nibbling reached perfection. Dean groaned and lost himself in her warm wetness. In spite of all his experience, he ... had ... to come. His well-exercised muscles flexed powerfully and shot a pure white stream over her tongue.

As Jennifer told the other women during the topless swim that day, the ivory semen that had filled his condom the night before belonged to all of them, as it was generated by all the sexy thoughts of the day. But this morning's offering that she licked from her lips was hers alone. She smiled a triumphant smile for days after, but secretly yearned to have Dean's special touch again and again.

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WEDNESDAY MORNING: Brunch discussion

"We have a problem on our hands." Brandy's tone was serious.

Dean and Joe had been invited to join Brandy and Rick for brunch. The mountain panorama around the lake was lit by glorious sunshine. Sparkles of light flashed on the water. Dean took another sip of the good coffee. Joe, as usual, was enchanted by the delicious choices on the full table laid out by Rosemary. Dean's trained eyes noted something sweet - not the food. Each time Rosemary came within range of Joe's place at the table, she leaned over to add or remove a plate in a way that revealed her mocha curves. Her blouse was open one button lower than it was supposed to be. Dean took in the scene with a smile.

"It's hard to imagine a problem right now, with this..." and then the retired intelligence agent stopped. One of the sparkles of light was not off the lake, it was higher up on a hill.

"Would someone be aiming a telescopic sight in our direction?" he said, as calmly as possible. "Or a telephoto lens?"

"I hope only a lens," Rick offered. For a moment, Dean thought that Rick's PTSD was kicking in, but after a cliffhanger pause, Rick continued.

"Brandy," he cajoled, "these guys are friends. Tell them what's up."

"Okay..." She stirred her coffee, which did not need stirring, then took a long sip. "Late last night, an unexpected guest arrived. Actually, two unexpected guests: Don Juan Negrin, the Ecuazeulan Consul General from San Francisco and his American student intern, Keira Daly."

"What is the problem?" Dean queried.

"From what I gathered from him, his wife is related to the current dictator, and she didn't approve of him taking cute Keira for a few days in Reno. Somehow, the papparazzi got wind of this and the couple had to sneak out of their casino hotel in what should have been the whee hours and head for someplace more secure. Someone steered them to us."

The office phone rang and Brandy excused herself.

"So, anyway," Rick picked up the story, "the consulate put out a press release saying that the consul was on a routine trade mission, trying to drum up business for his country's struggling economy. But that didn't stop the photographers from chasing him up here. Lucky thing that the county deputies were on the ball. When his driver said they were headed to Brandy's Ranch, they waved the limo through and then stopped the chase by writing all kinds of tickets on the media folks. Now the bandits have paid their fines and are crawling through the brush with long lenses, trying to get pictures."

Brandy returned, her model smile replaced by a scowl.

"That was the sheriff," she explained. "He figures that he can only keep the deputies in this area for a couple of more days, and then his overtime budget will be shot."

They sat there silent for what seemed like a long time. Then Joe Martinez spoke.

"Dean, wasn't there a movie about sneaking some hostages out of trouble?"

"I'm not an expert on extractions," Dean offered, "but my agency got me out of some scrapes before. You're remembering that movie, 'Argo'? Maybe we can come up with something." He took another sip of coffee. "Let's talk with the happy couple."

"They're down in the extra pleasure pod. They don't dare go out in the daylight." Rick led them to the out-of-the-way spare pod, explaining that it was only used when big conventions were in town. Brandy had arrangements for occasional service by some grad students who had big loans to pay off. Another flash of reflected sunlight told Dean that their movements were being watched. Rick rang the bell.

"You!" Keira Daly answered the door. Her blue eyes focused shsrply on Dean. Her trim figure was covered with one of the Brandy's Ranch logo bathrobes (for sale in the gift shop), but Dean recognized her as the prude on the plane. He resisted the urge to say any number of ironic things about finding her here.

"Where's Don Juan?" he asked instead.

Keira nodded her head in the direction of the bathroom. From behind the half-closed door, they could hear the sound of someone vomiting.

"We'll wait. Make yourself comfortable." He motioned for Keira to sit on the edge of the bed. She huffed and climbed all the way on the bed, leaning on piled up pillows as if bored with everything. Her robe slipped off one leg, showing a well-shaped thigh. She did not try to straighten it. Dean and Joe took chairs. Rick waited in the doorway. Water ran in the bathroom and then the runaway diplomat emerged.

Dean had expected a suave Valentino type, but if the senior diplomat had been that, the comparison was lost somewhere along the way. The man's face was pale and he was bleary-eyed as he plopped onto the edge of the bed. Keira reached out to him, but he ignored her. When he spoke, in a frightened voice, it occurred to Dean that Don Juan was thinking entirely of himself.

"You must get me out of here," he addressed Rick. "My career will be over! My wife's cousin will have me killed! And, so close to my pension," he added.

"Señor Negrin," replied Rick, "don't worry. These men and I are going to think of something." He looked at Dean.

"Right now, I think you'd better stay indoors. I have some ideas, but we need to talk this over some more. I'll ask Brandy to have one of her girls check on you to see if you need something." Dean did have some ideas, but nothing jelled yet. The three men trudged away up the gravel path to Brandy's porch. They were joined by Jessica.

"Did you notice how much Señor Negrin looks like Joe? I mean after Negrin calmed down." Rick was musing.

"Well, we're about the same age and height, but..." Joe was reluctant to be compared with the sniveling South American.

Jessica, the artist, was the one who put the pieces together: "With some make-up, we can make you look just like him! Then you can walk around here, be Negrin's double, while he escapes!"

"How would he escape? The limo is a dead giveaway." The dusty limo was still parked in the yard, its driver smiling blissfully as he snoozed in the front seat. Rick noted that the uniformed wheelman must have already had his complimentary blow-job, another promotional idea of Brandy's. Limo drivers were now so enthusiastic about taking conventioneers to Brandy's Ranch that they practically shanghaied customers, but he did not think that this case warranted the incentive award.

"Joe, how much is your truck worth?" Dean asked.

"I couldn't sell it. I've had it through thick and thin," the retired businessman retorted.

"$2400!" asserted Dean.

"I couldn't even think of..."

"$2800!" Dean interrupted.

"A collector offered me $3300 for it."

"Sold to the Ecuazeulan government for $3300!" Dean announced.

"I'm not sure if their money is good," Joe muttered. He started to ask what they would do with the truck, but the wheels in his mind were turning faster than he could get the words out. Dean began laying out the plan that in some form had also occurred to everyone on the porch.

"Late this afternoon, maybe better at dusk, the "journalists" will see what they think is Joe Martinez drive off in his beater - I mean collector's - truck by himself. Just like when he came in." Dean paused and looked around to see if everyone was following him. Then he continued.

"They'll also be distracted by what they think is his intern frolicking with Don Juan by the lakeshore. Which is the youngest girl here?"

"Chrysta," Jessica responded. "We can dye her hair." Dean had not had Chrysta yet, which is probably why he asked who was the youngest. Chrysta sometimes was asked by nervous politician customers for proof of her age. They apparently never stayed in doubt of her maturity once they "entered her playground"; her laughing extension of the cradle-robbing image she portrayed as an offset to her real intellectual talents.

"Good. Then when he turns up alone in his hotel room, the paparazzi will have some souvenir photos that aren't him and the intern and that don't have any market value."

Joe Martinez laughed.

"Sorry, Joe, but I don't think you'll have a future as a porn star."

Some other details were worked out. The limo driver would give Joe a ride to the Reno airport. The payment would just cover the "walk-up fare" back to Boise, Joe noted in a sardonic tone. The payment itself would be run through Brandy's charge slips with its innocent name. Joe would take it as a credit toward future visits. And so forth.

Dean slipped away to the "hostages" pod. Something had been bothering him and finally he realized that he needed to ask Ecuazeulan Consul General Negrin a question.

"Can you drive a stick shift?"

"No, of course not. I always have a driver, anyway!" he sneered. Dean noticed that Keira now looked contemptuosly at her recent lover. They must have been talking with each other. Perhaps, thought Dean, she has had enough exposure to his selfish side.

Dean did not have time for this man's attitude. He was there to get Brandy out of the tabloids, and ethics were as useful to him now as a used condom. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his badge that included the intertwined symbol of the School for Sexual Expression.

"What is that?" sighed the diplomat.

"Relax. Just take a close look at it." Dean responded in measured tones, smoothly penetrating Don Juan Negrin's subconscious. Keira watched in awe. Dean noted her shifting her legs to a more comfortable position as she witnessed the easy way that he smoothly brought her recent lover under his control. And then her mouth dropped open as Dean suggested a man to man discussion and then asked him a few questions. Tantalized, she smiled as she felt the wetness between her legs - until this exchange.

"Was Keira your first lover from your staff?"

"Heh, heh! Of course, I take lovers regularly. That is a - you call it a - fringe benefit."

"Was Keira your first choice for this trip?"

"I thought of Carlita first, but it was the wrong time of the month."

"Who is Carlita?"

"The consulate public relations officer. Easy to satisfy, wonderful muscles in the tight places. She worships me. But she is a good Catholic, too, and uses the rhythym method."

"And Keira?"

"Interesting, but she takes things too seriously. Still, it is good to have her when Carlita is not ready."

Dean glanced across the room. A tear ran down Keira's cheek and Dean suddenly felt he had taken questions too far. He returned to the strangest hypnotic induction he had ever conducted, trying to get Don Juan to focus on how to drive a stick shift pick-up truck. Mostly, he concentrated on developing in the diplomat a willingness to learn from Joe Martinez. It was not easy.