"The RX Ranch: Prescription for a New Man"

That's what it said on the front of the brochure, in big, bold letters. The rest of the pamphlet went on to explain how it could turn worthless drunkards, addicts, mommies' boys, anti-social youths and other useless young men into valuable assets to society, cured of their various addictions.

In much smaller print, on the bottom of the back page, it outlined its "starting at" rates, which were astronomical. It seemed only rich parents deserved to turn their useless sons into new men.

That was the brochure that was shoved under my nose. We were in the middle of what people like to call an 'intervention," but what was really a "Let's all gang up on Billy" meeting. At the center of attention was me, Billy. Around me were my parents, my boss, my family doctor, my drug and alcohol counsellor, my parents' lawyer, and my probation officer. It was being suggested to me that I should choose between going to the Dude Ranch in the brochure, or going to a minimum security prison.

Even though I owned a Porsche and a Jeep of my own, I had stolen a car while drunk and stoned, just for the fun of it, and was caught speeding in it. It was certainly not my first offense, but Dad's money and his lawyers had always managed to get me off before this with no consequences whatsoever. But now I was over 19 and considered an adult. The judge who was to try my case was considered a hard-nose, especially against rich-kid coke users like me, but it was also known that he liked the idea of rehabilitation institutions, such as this dude ranch. It was also hinted, but never stated, that he was one of the investors in the place.

Gathered in our immense living-room, they were all around me like vultures. My dad was threatening to cut me off without a penny; my boss (who had given me the job as a car salesman because my father owned the company) was saying he would hold my job for me until I came back (as if he had any choice!); my drug and alcohol counsellor and my family doctor were extolling the health benefits of the ranch; my probation officer and my lawyer were outlining the horrors of jail, any jail, even a minimum security one; and my Mom was crying.

So it was, a couple of days later, when I stood before the judge and he formally offered me the choice of three months in cowboy heaven at my parents' expense, or six month in minimum security at the crown's expense, I chose the Dude Ranch, however reluctantly. He also barred me from driving for a year!

Just as well the rehab Ranch's brochure didn't claim to cure homosexuality. When I call it a Dude Ranch I mean that is exactly was it was: all dudes! There were no women on the spread whatsoever, except on the bi-weekly visiting day. From the moment you drove through the front gate, which proclaimed it was the RX MEN'S RANCH, you could smell the testosterone - and the cum!

The RX Ranch - "ranch" being only a euphemism for "rehab center" - was well outside Hicksville, an aptly-named small town at the base of the Rockies, in the same area Brokeback Mountain was filmed. My father refused to drive me there, saying it was time to start fending for myself. Instead he gave me a bus ticket to Hicksville and put me on the bus.

For a place that was charging my parents around $10,000 a month, the RX Ranch didn't waste any money on the niceties. They didn't meet me at the bus or anything. Instead I had to wait around town for another local bus, which eventually dropped me off at the gate.

Nor did they have anyone to meet me at the gate, even though I had phoned from Hicksville, to get a ride, only to be told I would have to take the local.

So I put my knapsack over my shoulder and started down the gravel track toward the cluster of buildings I could see in the distance.

I had not gone far when I saw a large blue tractor sitting under a tree at the side of the path. And sitting on top of the tractor, stark naked except for his cowboy hat, cowboy boots, and a leather thong around his neck was a young man. He was busy beating his very impressive meat. It was thick and uncut. I made a mental note to try it some time.

He looked down from his perch at me.

"Howdy, Greenhorn," he drawled, like someone out of a bad Western. "I guess you're the newbie, eh? I'm Matt." He climbed down from the tractor and stuck his hand out toward me. I shook it.

"Billy," I told him.

"You here for drugs, alcohol, or just downright meanness?" he asked.

"All three, I guess," I told him.

"Gay?" he added.

"Yep," I admitted. "Do they cure that, too?"

"Nope," he said. "Just as well, or I'd be long gone. Some guys are, some guys aren't, but most will play around sooner or later. C'mon, I'll walk you to the Big House."

With his hard still waving in front of him, Matt set out with me on the walk to the Big House, and as we went along he filled me in a bit about the ranch.

The place was a homo's paradise. All the staff were men between about 25 years old and about 40 years old. They appeared to have been hand-picked for looks and build.

The "Clients" - that's what the staff called guys like me, but we just called ourselves "Users" - were between 18 youngest and 25 oldest. They all came from wealthy families, of course, so they too appeared to be of above average appearance. It's amazing what expensive dental work and minor cosmetic surgery can do for even the plainest guy. But, of course, it takes money, and their parents, like mine, had it. My parents, for example, had made sure I looked good going out into the world, with bright, white, beautifully straight teeth, and ears that once were like Prince Charles' Mickey Mouse ears, but now lay flat, as they should.

As Matt said, in the absence of women, it was no wonder that these hot-looking guys, even the straightest ones, would come to lust for their bunkmates.

It didn't help that the ranch was "clothing optional" - hence Matt's nudity - except on the bi-weekly visiting day, or when the probation officers made scheduled visits . Not that he, or any of the other guys went naked all the time. There were too many bugs and other obstacles to permanent nudity on the ranch for that. But there were plenty of opportunities to get naked and flaunt your cock, if you so desired.

Matt also told me that he was a "second-termer," that is, he had gone back out in the world and gone back out on the drugs, and now was back here with a better outlook on the whole thing. He was also an artist. I still have the chalk drawing he did of me during my first week, the first time I went naked. It makes me look kind of skinny, but I guess that was the effect of my drug abuse, but it also shows off my cock nicely.

As we approached the cluster of buildings, Matt pointed out to me what each building was. Front and center was the Big House - the administration building, where the Boss and his 3 ranch managers and the live-in doctor all lived. It also housed the infirmary, the detox center, and a cell, in case it was ever needed.

Next to it was the kitchen mess hall, which was also used as an assembly hall, class room, and movie theater. Under the same roof were three meeting rooms for small group therapy work, a television lounge, and a games room with darts, pool, table tennis, and video games. A small "tuck-shop" run by one of the cooks also sold necessities and "luxuries" such as candy, gum, magazines, and cigarettes.

Behind the Big House were two bunk-houses: one for the staff - the cooks, the cleaning staff, the stable hands, the ranch hands; the other for the "Clients" and the counsellors. There were six counsellors and the Ranch held as many as thirty Clients at a time.

And beyond all those was a large barn and small silo.

Still ballocks naked, Matt took me to the Big House to meet the Big Boss, but warned me first that he liked to be called Doctor Jenkins - but I never did find out just what he was a doctor of.

The Big Boss was a handsome man, and I suspected that he had a thing for the boys. I could feel him sizing me up after Matt had introduced us and left me with him.

"The first thing we have to do," he told me, leaning back in the leather armchair in his office, "is to detox you."

"What!" I exclaimed, "I don't need to go through detox. I haven't touched anything for days."

He brushed my complaint aside, "That's what they all say," he replied, "so it's our policy."

He called for a couple of people using the intercom on his desk. Those people turned out to be Doc Holiday (no, not the gunslinger), a youngish man who was obviously on his first medical posting; and Ben, another youngish man probably in his early thirties, who was to be my counsellor.

Against all my protests, I was taken to the detox center, made to strip and shower, and given a hospital robe. My knapsack was taken away after I was allowed to retrieve a few items, such as toothpaste and toothbrush. I know it was thoroughly searched before it was returned to me three days later.

I spent those three days locked in one of the detox rooms, with bars on the widows, like a cell. I was fed a mostly liquid diet, and some medications which I presume were to "cleanse" my system. I know that made me crap a lot and piss a funny color. The only persons I saw were Ben the counsellor, the Doc, and the cook who brought my meals.

Ben used the time to educate me on the system and rules of RX Ranch. He told me about their mentor system, about their main rules, such as no alcohol or drugs or celll phones - we could use the pay-phone in the mess hall if we needed to phone anyone - and about their 12 Step program, a sort of amalgam of the AA and NA Programs and a Damage Reduction program all mashed in together. I took rather a liking to Ben, and he to me, as it turned out.

By the time detox period was over, I was all ready to grab my gear and head out of here. That choice was only strengthened when I got to meet my bunkmate, Hank.

The huge "Client" bunkhouse was divided inside into 20 small rooms with a bunk bed, closet, chest of drawers, writing desk, and a sink. The rooms used by the counsellors were a bit larger; each had two single beds, and its own shower and toilet.

We Users shared a shower and toilet between each pair of rooms, with a connecting door from the room on each side.

Because I had already met Matt, he was assigned to show me to my room in the bunkhouse and to introduce me to my bunkmate Hank.

Hank turned out to be a hunkily-built, stocky, baby-faced guy with a very impressive basket. he was about my own age, or maybe a couple of years older. The baby-face was misleading. But I took an instant dislike to him - and it seemed to me that he took a dislike to me. It may have been that fact that Hank was not just my roomie, but also my "mentor." Their mentor system was part of the program. A guy who they thought well into his recovery, in the last month of his rehab period, was assigned to be the roomie and mentor of a newbie, a greenhorn. He was supposed to offer support and guidance for the newer User but the mentor was also expected to report any infractions on the part of the newbie to the counsellors or the managers. Reported infractions would bring consequences in the form of lost privileges, a such as use of the tuck-shop, the games room, and the television lounge. In other words, the mentor was a glorified fink. Or at least that's how I saw it.

Like Matt, he wore a leather thong round his neck, the insignia of a mentor.

His first words to me were,

"I'm due to get out of here soon. I have a good record this time round. Don't you go fucking it up for me." Apparently, a greenhorn's behaviour reflected on his mentor.

My mentor and I got off on the wrong foot that very first days as roomies. After I had stowed what little gear I had bought in my room, and had been shown around the place a bit by Matt, who introduced me to several other guys, I went back to our room. Hank was not around. I needed to take a dump, so I headed into the shared can between our room and the next.

I also needed a smoke. Although smoking was not prohibited on the Ranch, it was prohibited in the buildings. Outside only! However, that didn't bother me. I opened the window above the shitter, dropped my drawers, sat down, and lit up.

I had hardly taken my first drag when Hank burst into the bathroom.

"What the fuck do you think you are up to? You know there's no smoking in the bunkhouse. Put that out, right now!" he ordered.

"Fuck you, asshole!" I retorted. "And get the fuck out of here and let me take a shit in peace."

Hank stormed out, slamming the bathroom door and our bedroom door behind him.

When I finished my crap and my smoke and returned to the bedroom, Ben was waiting there for me. Hank had already reported me. What an asshole!

Reluctantly, Ben took me to Big Boss, who gave me a long lecture, and banned me from the movie for that night, not that I cared that much, but it was the principle of the thing.

So that night, I ended up laying there on my top bunk while all the other guys and my asshole mentor/roomie enjoyed the movie.

When Hank came back, I turned my face to the wall and my back to him and the room.

He said, "Hi. How's it going?"

I remained silent.

"Hey, man, sorry about that. I had to report you."

I remained silent, my back to him.

"I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise!"

I still said nothing.

"Come on! Hey, I know what! I'll give you a blow-job!"

"Come on! Turn over! You'll love it!" He put his hand on my hip and shook me gently.

I turned over, all right. I turned over with a rush, reached out with my fist, and whacked him across the side of the head.

"Fuck off!" I screamed at him. "Don't touch me! Faggot!"

I'm sure the other guys up and down the bunkhouse heard me. The walls were paper thin.

Hank said nothing more. He turned out the lights, undressed, and crawled into his bottom bunk. I lay there still fully dressed and eventually drifted off to sleep.

And that's how things went. I did not speak to Hank and Hank did not speak to me, unless we absolutely had to. Matt was a long-time friend of Hank. They were both second termers, and had been together on their first go-rounds at the Ranch. Matt tried to explain to me that Hank was just being so hard-nosed because he was determined to succeed this time, to go back into the world drug-free and stay that way. He tried to get us to be friends also, but I wasn't having any.

Matt even convinced us to have our picture taken together, but he could not manage to convince us to "Smile!" or even say "Cheese!"

For all Matt's efforts, Hank and I spent any time we we forced to spend together, such as the late evening before lights out, fuming and not speaking.

In the daytime, I found lots to do. As I said, it was a homo's paradise. Not all the guys were gay, of course, but most of them had had some previous gay experiences, and those that hadn't were willing to try after a week or two here.

Even the administration turned a blind eye to the male-on-male shenanigans taking place on the RX Ranch. In fact, one of the managers and the Big Boss were rumored to be getting it on, and two of the six counsellors were gay. Ben was one of the two. It was implied, but not written in stone anywhere, that counsellors were not supposed to socialize (or have sex) with the clients, but there was no hard and fast rule.

Because of my hard against Hank, who was generally well-liked, I got the reputation of being a tough guy, a mean bastard. It was far from the truth. I am usually a pretty easy to get along with fellow, but for some reason, here I did not try to shatter that image.

I deliberately cultivated the idea that I was the tough guy I was reputed to be - the show pony, the show-off. I usually had a cigarette dangling out of the corner of my mouth, and in group sessions usually refused to share. I would try anything that was pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable on the Ranch. Sometimes it backfired on me.

One example was when I decided to ride a horse along the front fence of the ranch, bordering the public road - naked. Some of the guys tried to tell me I shouldn't do it naked. I'm sure they gave me reasons, but I wasn't listening. I saddled up my favorite horse, stripped to just my boots and hat, jerked on my dick until I was good and hard, then mounted, and rode the horse along the fence, waving to the rare car, truck, or bus that passed. There was very little traffic, but I achieved what I wanted.

I spent maybe an hour doing that.

When I returned to the ranch-buildings, very sweaty and horsey-smelling, and went to take a shower, I found out why I should not have done it. My crack and the underside of my butt-cheeks were raw. The sweaty leather had chafed me badly without my noticing - until the hot water of the shower hit it. I suffered through the stinging pain until i I had showered, dragged on a light pair of sweat pants, and found my way to the infirmary.

As he applied antiseptic creme to my ass, Doc Holiday was not very sympathetic. In fact, he mostly had a big grin on his face.

The Big Boss did not have a grin. He was somewhat pissed off at me. A passenger on the bus that passed had phoned with a complaint about the naked rider by the public road. I lost a couple of days' privileges for that.

But life went on, and I fell into the routine of the ranch. It was not really a very big ranch, the standard 160 acres. It had a few beef cattle, a few dairy cattle, a small herd of sheep, a goat, and a couple of dozen hens and one rooster. There was also a nice flower bed at the front of the main building and a considerable vegetable garden at the rear. There was one field of corn, one field of rye grass for hay, one field of canola, and the rest was open range.

Part of the "therapy," - when we were not in group sessions or one-on-ones with another User or a counsellor - was to help out with any of these parts of the ranch - milking the cows, gathering eggs, weeding the gardens, and so on.

My favorite place on the ranch was the barn. Whenever I was horny, I knew I could find some action there. It was the perfect place for man-on-man sex. Someone had even cut a glory hole into the divider wall of an unused stall, and set up a "jerk-off throne" in there. You didn't have to wait long before someone stuck his dick through anonymously for you to suck, jerk off, or even impale your ass on if you liked to be fucked like that, but that was too anonymous for me. I restricted myself to sucking cock or having my cock sucked. The glory hole was very popular with the so-called "straight" guys. This way they didn't have to admit to themselves that they were getting it on with another guy.

The barn was also where I seduced my counsellor, Ben - not that he needed much seducing.

It was toward the end of my third week on the Ranch, soon after my bare-back riding stunt. The chaffing on my ass and thighs had pretty-well healed up by then. The after-lunch groups sessions had finished and we Users were free to do as we wished until supper.

I was wandering along toward the barn hoping to get my dick sucked at the glory hole. It was a warm summer day, and although I was shirtless and going commando, I drew the line at full nudity after my recent escapade.

"Hey, Billy! Wait up," I heard from behind me. It was Ben, also shirtless (and by the bulge down his leg also commando). He trotted to catch up to me.

"What are you up to?" he asked.

"Nothing much," I lied. "Just filling time."

"Can I mosey along with you?" he asked, again like some bad old western.

"Sure, pardner," I grinned, picking up on the oater slang.

"It's actually my day off," he told me, "But there's fuck all to do in the town except go to the tavern, and I don't drink, and the strippers don't turn me on." Of course they didn't. Ben was gay.

As we wandered toward the barn he asked me a few non-committal questions. Then the important one.

"How are you and Hank getting along?"

"We're not!" I stated bluntly. "I hate his guts!"

"Yeah, that's what Hank told me. I'm his counsellor, too. But think about it. Do you really hate him?"

I did think about it. In truth, I didn't really hate him. In fact, I thought Hank was kind of hot. But what it really amounted to was resentment. Hank had what I wanted. He was sober, clean, and had found new respect in the eyes of others at the ranch, and more importantly in his own eyes. That, and he had turned me in

"Well, I guess I don't hate him," I admitted to Ben, "I just don't like him."

Ben put his arm round my shoulder and drew me close to him.

"Lighten up," he said. "For his sake and your own, try to get along. He only has another week or so before he leaves for the outside world. It it would be good if he could leave here feeling good about everything, including you."

Ben's arm on my shoulder, and our naked torsos brushing together gave me a hard. I pushed aside all thoughts of Hank, and concentrated on Ben. We had reached the open doors of the barn. I reached across and grasped his crotch. I was right. He had no underpants underneath his jeans. And he was semi-hard. I squeezed.

"Don't," he said, but it was a rather feeble request. His dick got harder as I felt it. "I'm your counsellor," he objected.

"It's your day off," I reminded him. By now I had unbuckled his belt and was pulling down his zip. I slipped my hand into his pants and grasped his rod. I could feel that he was circumcised - and very hard. Still right out in the open, I tugged his jeans down a bit to let his wood pop free.

I dropped to my knees and ran my tongue along its length.

"Oh, my God!" Ben sighed. "Let's go inside" He helped me to my feet and we moved a short distance into the barn, and out of public view. Again I dropped to my knees and this time took his cock-head into my mouth.

There was loose straw on the floor nearby, and some bales of hay. I pushed him back toward the bales. There was a piece of canvas on a hook nearly. I took it and spread it over the hay bales.

"Let's get naked," I said, which we did, but found the straw too uncomfortable on the feet, so we put socks and boots back on. Ben sat back on the hay bale, and I sucked his cock for a while, listening to his murmurs of pleasure. Soon I told him, "I want you in me."

He went to rise, but I told him, "You just lay there. I'll do the work." He lay back across the bale, his feet on the floor. His stiff cock was standing straight up. I straddled him, facing his feet, and not using any lube at all, slowly lowered my bum-hole onto his cock. Ben had a better view than I did, and he guided his dick to my hole. When I felt it just nudging into me, I sat down on Ben, driving his cock up inside me. It hurt like hell for the first few seconds, but my muscles quickly relaxed around his shaft.

Slowly I began to ride up and down on his cock, pushing it into me and drawing it out again at a rate that suited me well. I thrilled to every inch of his rod inside me. It was the first time I had been fucked since coming to the camp - and quite a while before that.

But soon the position began to take its toll on my legs, spread out like that; likewise the baling wire was poking through the canvas and scratching Ben's back, so we agreed to move the action to the floor.

We spread the old canvas and our jeans on the straw-littered floor of the barn. I lay on my side and Ben closed in behind me. He dick searched for my ready hole and slipped inside me once more. We began a slow, steady motion together as he drove into me again and again and I pushed back onto his pole to get as much as I could inside me.

While Ben fucked me, I beat my meat.

"Tell me when you're ready to cum," he told me, "and I'll try to cum at the same time."

I didn't really have to tell him. His dick felt my asshole tighten around him as I began to shoot. My body automatically clenched his dick and that set him going also. While I shot my load (all over my jeans, I might add), Ben shot his load simultaneously. Each time my ass muscles clenched as I spurted, it would trigger another spurt from him, which would trigger another from me, and so on. But eventually, we were both spent.

"I'd appreciate it if you don't tell anyone about this," said Ben as we got dressed. "I'd probably get shit from the Big Boss."

"Of course," I agreed.

It was not until the next morning that I found out that Ben had got shit from the Big Boss - someone had seen us outside or in the barn and reported him.

Hank came storming into our room where I was still dozing, thinking about getting ready for breakfast. Hank always was an early riser.

"You fucking asshole!" he screamed at me. "You got Ben suspended! He's not supposed to fool around with us Users."

"What?" I cried. "That's not fair. Ben didn't do anything! I talked him into it."

"Tell that to the Big Boss," he spat. "The way he has it, Ben practically raped you - but I know that's not true."

So it was I made my way sheepishly to Doctor Jenkins and pleaded for Ben. I told him I had made the first move, that Ben had resisted. That I insisted it would be OK because Ben wasn't working; he was on his day off. It was all my fault because I was so horny.

The Big Boss finally agreed to lift Ben's suspension, but decreed that Ben would no longer be my counsellor. He assigned me one of the straight counsellors instead, forbade Ben and I from having any dealings, and sentenced me to loss of privileges for a week.

That was the last straw. I decided I was leaving. I returned to my room, packed my stuff in my knapsack and headed out. I was going to cut across country to Hicksville, where the bus had dropped me off. I would have followed the road, but it curved round the ranch, so it was shorter cross-country.

Matt saw me leaving and ran after me. "Don't be an idiot," he begged. "The ranch works if you let it. This will pass over and things will be fine."

"Leave me alone," I told him. "I'll do just fine for myself. They can take this ranch and shove it. And their asshole mentors." I had forgotten for a moment that Matt was also a mentor, but it was too late to take it back.

I stomped off across a fallow field toward the open range, leaving Matt staring after me. I looked back once, and he was still there, just a speck in the distance.

The trip across country was a lot longer than I imagined it to be. The land out here was fairly bare, with just an occasional tree, outcrops of rock, and prairie brush. The sun grew hotter and hotter. I had forgotten to bring any water.

I thought the town was only about 3 miles away, but it seemed I had been walking forever, and I had still not come to the road.

I heard the sound of a horse coming up behind me. In the glare of the sun, I could not tell who it was at first. I knew who it was as soon as he spoke.

"Billy, don't be stupid," called Hank. "Come on back. You're not an asshole. Ben sent me to find you."

"I don't care," I shouted. "I'm out of here!"

At that moment all sorts of things happened at once. I heard a dry rattling sound nearby, and Hank's horse shied and reared. Caught unexpected, Hank was thrown back and off the horse. I heard an awful crack as his head hit the ground - or a rock. Then I saw what had caused all this. A prairie rattler was coiled nearby, shaking its tail furiously. The horse had retreated to a distance, and the danger to the snake was over. It uncoiled and slithered off.

I ran over to where Hank lay. He was breathing, but unconscious. I tried to rouse him, but got no response. The horse was nearby. There was a water canteen hooked over the pummel of the saddle. I poured a little over Hank's face, but there was still no response. He was wearing a bandana, so I took that off, moistened it and swabbed his face. There was still no movement.

It was with great difficulty I hoisted the prone Hank up onto the horse's shoulders, in front of the saddle, draping him over like a sack of wheat. I clambered up behind him, and set off cautiously back to the ranch, being careful that he did not slip off.

Because of Hank's precarious position on the horse, I could not hurry. It took forever to reach the ranch houses. One of the other Users saw me coming. I think he presumed Hank was dead, and ran ahead at full speed to the Big House. I reached the Big House just as Doc Holiday and Doctor Jenkins and two of his managers came bursting out

"There was a rattler. The horse threw him. He hit his head," I blurted out in response to a barrage of questions. Two of the men lifted Hank from the horse, and carried his limp form through to the infirmary, led by an anxious Doc Holiday.

There was nothing for me to do but sit on the front steps of the Big House and wait, forgotten by everyone. Eventually some of the other Users gathered and asked me about it all. I told them all I knew, but couldn't tell them what condition Hank was in. They drifted off, leaving me alone again.

I heard footsteps behind me. I didn't turn. Then there was a hand on my shoulder. I turned my head. It was Ben.

"He's awake. He wants to see you," he told me.

"Ben, I'm sorry about that other stuff ..." I started. Ben interrupted me.

"It's OK," he said. "We shouldn't have done it … but I'd do it again." He flashed me a wide grin. "Come on, now."

I rose and followed Ben through to the infirmary. In one of the two hospital-type rooms, Hank was reclining in bed, an icepack on his head, still being fussed over by Doc Holiday. Hank gave me a shy smile. I don't think I had ever seen him smile before. It was a great smile. It warmed me to him.

"Thanks, Billy. I owe you big time."

"Are you OK?" I asked anxiously.

"Sure, he's OK," Doc Holiday, "but I'm keeping him here overnight to keep an eye on him, check him for concussion."

"See you tomorrow?" Hank asked. "I'll find some way to repay you, I promise."

"Sure," I agreed. "You know where to find me."

I lay awake on my top bunk that night, recalling the day. At the evening meal, Doctor Jenkins had made a brief speech calling me a young hero. The whole mess hall clapped and cheered me. I felt stupid, but proud. After dinner, everyone wanted to play pool with me, or darts, or whatever.

I thought about my feud with Hank, how stupid it had all been. I thought about my stay here, how I had so far wasted the opportunity given me. I thought about Matt and Hank, and how they were both so proud that they were clean and sober and had some new aims in life. Matt had told me he was going to go to Emily Carr Art School in Vancouver. He had also told me Hank was going in for Drug and Alcohol Counselling for at-risk youth, inspired by Ben. I thought about what I wanted to do with my life. I hadn't decided yet. Maybe if I stayed here, and got clean and sober, I could figure that out.

The next morning was Saturday, and there were no classes or group sessions. The ranch bus took those Users who wanted in to the town to do what shopping they could in the few stores. I chose to stay and relax on my bunk.

About mid-morning, the door opened and in came Hank. I turned over to face him.

"Hi," I said. "How you feeling?"

I did as he said, and followed him to the barn, where we saddled our favorite horses. I noticed that he rolled an extra horse blanket and strapped it behind his saddle.

He led the way, and we rode across the ranch, talking little, to a far corner I had never been to before. The land took a little dip down to where a small creek ran down from the foothills through a grove of trees that lined its path.

"This is my favorite spot on the ranch," he told me, as we dismounted by the creek's edge. "I come here to think sometimes."

"Why did you bring me here?" I asked.

"To pay you what I owe you," he replied, stepping toward me.

"How?" I asked, but before I could reply he was unzipping my fly as he dropped to his knees. Before I could complain or anything, he had my cock out and in his mouth.

"Oh, my God!" I exclaimed. "That is soooo good!"

He stood up and said, "I've secretly wanted to do that from the day we met, and this too." He pulled me hard against him and kissed me on the mouth. I opened mine to meet his. My stiff cock pushed against the cloth of his jeans, and I could feel his hard dick through the cloth.

Within moments we were tearing at each others clothes and our own in a rush to get naked together. His cock was just as hard as mine when it popped out of his jeans as I yanked them down.

We stood there, locked together, kissing, fondling, feeling each other's dicks, tweaking each other's tits. Talk was unnecessary. I wanted just one thing from this young man whom I had hated so much until yesterday.

"Fuck me!" I pleaded. Hank broke free from our embraces. He retrieved the blanket from his saddle and spread it under the trees. Done, he renewed our kissing.

"Down," he ordered, "on your back!" He pushed me backward and down until I lay on my back on the blanket. Some of the stones beneath poked into me, but I didn't give a damn. I wanted just one thing right now.

Hank took me roughly that first time, but I wanted it that way. At the same time he was punishing me for being such an asshole, and thanking me for saving his life maybe. Either way, it was what I needed.

Hank hoisted my legs up and pushed them toward my head, raising my butt off the ground, exposing my thirsting hole to his cock. His dick was thicker than Ben's had been but Hank lubed it up with plenty of spit, also spitting directly onto my hole. He crouched behind me, spreading his legs. He pushed down and forward with his hips and his cock head found my waiting hole. I pushed back as he pushed forward, and his knob popped inside me.

For a few minutes he pounded my ass like that, but the position was hard on both of us. Soon he pulled his thick dick out of my hole and flopped on the blanket beside me. He rolled me on my side and entered me that way, one arm around me. With his cock deep inside me he kissed me on the neck and nibbled at my ear.

"I thought you hated me," I whispered.

"And I thought you hated me," he replied. "When you called me a faggot, I thought you must be straight. Till I heard about you and Ben … I was kind of jealous it wasn't with me …"

"Well it is me now. Fuck me for as long as you can."

And Hank did just that.

And when he'd done, I did him. For as long as I could.

For the next seven nights we slept together, crammed onto the bottom bunk. I'm sure they could hear the squeaking and bumping of the bed all over the bunkhouse every nght. Then Hank's time at the RX ranch was up. He left to go home to Edmonton very reluctant to part with me. Matt left the very same day. Another guy, Brad, with only a month to go, was moved in with me as my new roomie and mentor. He was straight, but we got along OK.

I am in my last month now, and have another new roomie. George is also straight, and I am his mentor. I get to wear the leather thong now. The way George looks at me at times makes me think maybe he wants to try it with me. Who knows? I'm sure Hank wouldn't mind. We talk on the pay-phone in the Mess every evening. I sent Hank a picture of me - with my mentor thong, but without clothes - to help him think about me.

I'm meeting Hank in Edmonton when I get out of here. He is going back to school. He has found an apartment for us. I'm going to live with him, and go back to school myself. My Dad said he'd be glad to pay for it.

Life keeps getting better.

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