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A Simple Man's

Night Out

To most who knew him Jackson Hardy seemed like a simple man with even simpler tastes. An assumption he fully agreed with if he was ever asked about it. Unlike most folks with their big dreams and wants the young, twenty-eight year old stallion was quite content spending the entirety of his life working as a ranch hand at the lucrative Macalister family ranch located a mile away from the small country town of Humbleton, Arizona.

It was an easygoing life to be sure. Every day Jackson would wake up at the crack of dawn. His basic breakfast of toast, eggs, and a cup of coffee enjoyed with haste so he could rush off into the fields where him and his coworkers tended to the enormous heard of feral longhorns their master, Mr. Carl Macalister, owned.

Then, after the sun had set in the west and all of the chores for the day were completed, Jackson and his friends sluggishly returned to the small, broken down bunkhouse they called home and climbed their way back into their beds for a much deserved night's sleep.

And that's how life was for Jackson Hardy. Day in and day out, the same cycle of work and sleep repeated ad nauseum. The years passing by like a whirl as he ceaselessly toiled away for a man who he was convinced didn't even know his name.

Of course... that's not entirely to say ol' Jackson didn't occasionally deviate from the usual routine every now and then. Once in a while he, along with several of his coworkers, would head off into Humbleton proper to spend their meager paychecks and blow off a little steam.

Nights filled with debauchery and plenty of booze where they played games of chance, carried on, and--god willing--spend some pleasant time in the company of whatever sweet piece of tail they happened to be lucky enough to wrangle for the night of sex.

It was the wrangling part though where Jackson differed from the average run-of-the mill cattleman. While the other ranchers were busy wooing the local ladies back to their beds for a quick romp the virile young Clydesdale would instead venture off from the group in search for a more "masculine" sort of quarry. His goal for the night to be either the giver or receiver of a nice ol' fashioned ass fucking!

Now back in that day, the late nineteen-thirties, there was only one place in all of Humbleton where someone could participate in such a depraved act. A secretive little area located behind the local barbershop where all sorts of men would congregate simply called the "Cornholing Spot" by those who frequented the place.

Every Sunday Jackson would excuse himself from the party as soon as he could and make his way off to this hidden den of iniquity. His breath short with excitement and his cock hard in his jeans as he snuck his way down the alley leading to the location.

Once there he'd quickly announce his presence with a sharp bird call that cut through the air like a knife. And if he were lucky there'd always be a second call right after his own. The mysterious communication followed by the appearance of the poor S.O.B. who'd be getting himself a nice big helping of horse cock that evening.

That was always the best part of the whole experience for Jackson too. The first time he laid eyes on the lucky bastard he'd be fucking the hell out of. These various men who's fields he vigorously end up plowing easily placed into one of three categories that each offered up its own unique pleasures and experiences.

First were the newbies. Young men barely of age who after hearing a few rumors from friends had come to see what the big deal was. These fellas had always been Jackson's favorites. The way they went all wide eyed when he stepped out of the shadows, the way they got all nervous and excited as they watched him unzip his jeans and pull out his thick, eight inch cock. It all made him feel strong and powerful being the one to take away their "man on man" virginity and give them exactly what they had been craving their entire life.

Next up on the list were the adulterers. Jittery married men who lived lies during the day and dreamed of sex with men at night. They were always the fastest to fall to their knees when he whipped it out. Hungry mouths that greedily swallowed his meat and sucked on him until they either swallowed a nice big load of cum or begged to be fucked. Jackson, always the gentleman of course, would always give them exactly what they wanted. The large man pounding their asses until he came and sent them off back to their wives with a belly full of seed and a mind full of guilt.

Finally there were the ever so rare men like himself. Fellow ranch hands and other grizzled land workers who liked to fuck ass just as much as he did. Whenever one of these handsome studs appeared Jackson didn't waste a moment and gladly lifted his tail for their personal used. The way those horny fuckers eagerly went to him, fingernails digging into his chocolate brown furred hips as they rode him hard and fast igniting a wildfire just as blisteringly hot as the ones he experienced when it was his turn to do the riding.

And so, such was the life of average everyman Jackson Hardy. Six days out of the week he'd dutifully work his butt off for his highfaluting employers the Macalister's and on Sunday he'd go out drinking and partying until he got horny enough to head off to the cornholing spot for a little bit of sinning.

Or at least that's how things were up until the night Jackson came across someone he never expected to see at Humbleton's only gay cruising spot. A certain body that he'd ended up teaching a little lesson to about treating real men like himself with respect. Not that he had that exact outcome on his mind when it happened. It just sort of turned out that way during the natural course of their encounter.

The night this all went down had started out like any other. After receiving his pay from the foreman of the ranch he worked at Jackson and his buddies had all piled into their old pickups and drove their way into town for yet another night of wild decadence and fun.

The evening had been an enjoyable one like it always was. The eight of them boisterously whiling away the waning hours getting as drunk and rowdy as possible while telling dirty jokes, hitting on every woman they came across, and playing a few hands of no holds bar poker and blackjack.

But like all great parties the wonderful night out inevitably came to its natural end. Their ossified group along with several women they had managed to charm into joining them all stumbling their way out of Happy's bar at nearly one AM in the morning. Loud hollers and laughter following them as they proceeded to head for the trucks so that they could ride back to the bunkhouse for a proverbial roll in the hay.

It was then, just as they were about to load up in their vehicles, that Jackson finally made a move to part from the group. His own desires not with the ladies currently rubbing up against his friends but with the men potentially waiting for him elsewhere.

Slowing to a stop as the others continued on their way the large, six foot eight horse tried his best not to look suspicious and went to tell his longtime friends of his plans. Carefully leaving out certain details of course. "Hey, fellas!" He began with a hard sniff. "Hate to break it to y'all but I think I'm going be staying here in town for a little bit longer."

Turning to his equine friend with a noticeable stumble, Kirby Conner, a golden lab with more brute strength than brains frowned back at him in disappointment. "You mean ta tell me you ain't coming back with us again tonight Hardy!?" He asked incredulously. "Hell boy, why do you always stay behind? Especially when we got ourselves so sweetness here you can play with."

"Awe, leave him along there Kirb." A second man, a black bull with a broken right horn implored loudly. "You know how Jackson is! He never comes back with us. I think he has himself a girl here in town he goes to see. Am I right Jackie?"

Resisting the urge he had to snort at the horned man's erroneous assumptions Jackson nodded lightly. "You certainly got me there Zeke." He chuckled. "Now iffin y'all will pardon me again I got myself some sweetness of my own ta get to."

"Fine, have it your what then Hardy." Kirby huffed out as he and everyone else resumed heading for their trucks. "As for us we're going to have ourselves a good old time so you best not be calling us later to come pick you up, ya hear!?"

"I hear, I hear. Go on and have your fun fellas!" Jackson said waving them off. "I'll find myself a way home like I always do once I've done what I'm doing."

His friend's taking their leave after that exchange Jackson watched patiently as they all got into their truck and rode off down the street into the dark Arizonan night. It still amazed him sometimes how none of those boy's ever figured out the real reason he always remained behind. Most assuming, like Zeke, that he had a sweetheart somewhere in town or something.

If only they all knew the truth of his late night escapades. How fucking the scads of horny, slutty men down at the cornholing spot topped anything they were doing with those pretty little hussies they took back to their bed. If they did, then maybe those lonesome weeknights back at the bunkhouse would be a hell of a lot more interesting. Jackson couldn't tell you the number of nights he dreamed of bending over Zeke or Kirby and fucking their tight little asses.

'Alright now Jackie, don't go getting your hopes about something that ain't ever gonna happen.' Jackson chided himself after mulling over that last thought for a bit. 'Fucking 'round with them all would be nice and all but it ain't like you don't get enough action already. Speaking 'o' which... 'bout time we headed out.'

Cock beginning to harden at that thought Jackson quickly began the short trek through Humbleton's empty nighttime streets towards the forgotten area where he'd spend the better part of the evening. Arriving in a matter of minutes the sneaky man stealthily slipped his way into the dark alleyway once he was sure no one was looking and padded his way down the long, trash filled corridor until he came across a large, boxed in area between the backs of four darkened buildings.

"Sure hope there's someone good here tonight." Jackson huffed as he peered around the darkened, shadow filled space and then up to the bright full moon above. "Messing around with that dirty drifter from last week wasn't exactly the best time I've had here."

Praying that the night wouldn't be the same Jackson inhaled deeply and let loose the signal for anyone listening in the darkness. The shrill, distinct bird call he made bouncing off the partially dilapidated walls around him and echoing out into the night as he peered around to see if anyone would respond.

Thankfully, another whistle soon sounded from the Clydesdale's right. Jackson chuckling dirtily as he turned to see whoever it was about to step out and end his long, long week of forced abstinence. However, instead of one of the usual suspects he was used to fooling around with the man who ended up appearing before him was someone Jackson never expected to see at the local queer hangout.

The being who emerged from the darkness that night was a large pig, both in species and in size. His stout and rotund frame covered in a light pinkish-tan fur save for the singular dark brown blotch over his left eye. Well, at least that was the only dark patch Jackson could see on him. The rest of the man's body was oddly enough covered by an expensive looking, foppish, bright white seersucker suit with gold trim. It's whiteness contrasting with their surroundings and only matched by the neat little bowtie around his thick neck and the old fashioned, Hickok style hat he wore atop his head.

This was a man that Jackson knew very, very well. Hell, everyone within fifty miles knew who this fella was. This was Carlson Herbert Macalister, patriarch of the Macalister family and soul owner of the ranch Jackson had worked at most of his life. A rich arrogant socialite who, along with all his likewise snobby friends, frowned down upon all the little people who helped maintained the farms and ranches they had made their fortunes off of.

Jackson himself had personally been on the wrong end of Mr. Macalister's holier-than-though attitude a few times over the years. The older man happily dressing him down for not working as hard as he thought they should or for the way they dressed. Every abhorrent word he spoke only serving to make Jackson despise him more and more.

Seemingly unaware of the shock he had caused, Mr. Macalister hummed appreciatively as he sized Jackson up from afar. Tall, muscular, and from the bulge in the front of his jeans, well endowed, he certainly had hit the jackpot that night. Or so he thought.

"Evening son." The pompous landowner greeted with a tilt of his chin. "My aren't you a big'un. You up to giving me what I'm hankering for tonight?"

Snapped out of his self-induced daze at the question Jackson frowned deeply, insulted that Mr. Macalister hadn't recognized him. One would think that after working for someone for nearly two decades they'd at least be able to pick your face out of a crowd.

"I don't really think that would wisest of ideas sir." He tensely spoke, answering the older man's previous inquiry. As horny as he might have been he knew better than to mess in his own nest. Fucking around with the boss may lead to trouble.

Confused by the reaction he had gotten Mr. Macalister cocked his head to the side. "Now, now don't you go chickening out on me boy." He chuckled. "We both know why we came so why not get yourself over here? Daddy will be sure to make you feel real good."

Again Jackson was frustrated at still not being remembered. Apparently he was going to have to spell out the situation for the pie filled bastard before he wised up. "It's me sir, Jackson Hardy." He informed quickly. "You know, one of your ranch hands. Been working for ya since I was thirteen."

It was at Jackson's second attempt that Mr. Macalister suddenly stopped in his approach. The portly pig stilling for a moment before he leaned forward with squinting eyes to take a closer look at who he had been descending upon. Only then did recognition finally flash across his features. A loud gasp coming out as he backpedaled away, his once amorous mood transformed into one of fear and haughty irritation.

"Well, fuck me..." Carl Macalister swore under his breath. Getting his teeth as he began to glare the stout man demanded to know what was going on. "What the hell do you think you doing here you damned broom-tail!? Shouldn't you be back at the ranch getting ready for work tomorrow!?"

His own temper flaring at the insult hurled in his face Jackson stepped forward menacingly. Maybe it was all the beer in his system, maybe it was the frustration of being blue balled, whatever it was he wouldn't stand for being spoken to like that! He didn't care who the other man thought he was.

"You best watch who you're calling a broom-tail ya fucking idgit!" The muscular and brutish stallion warned. "And as for why I'm here, today's payday! Ya'know as in the one day a week us common folk get ta enjoy ourselves!"

Not one to be outdone at blustering Mr. Macalister quickly shook his fist at the taller male. "You better watch that mouth of yours son!" He barked back, just as angrily. In all his years no one had ever dared to speak to him like that. That was unless you counted Mrs. Macalister, but that was a special case. "You don't and your ass is going to be out of the job faster than a hot knife through butter!"

For a moment after that very real threat Jackson felt a twinge of fear run though him. Sure his well-deserved retort may have been enjoyable but he didn't want to lose his job over it. Working the land was all he had ever known and if Mr. Macalister did fire him he just knew that the vindictive bastard--with all his connections--would make it so he'd never be hired for that kind of work ever again.

Realizing he had been trumped Jackson reluctantly readied himself to mumble out a halfhearted apology. However, just before he spoke the Clydesdale realized something that he almost missed. Mr. Macalister might have had power and riches on his side but now Jackson had something greater both of those things. Now he was privy to something the pig wouldn't want anyone else knowing.

Grinning sinisterly as they stood there in the quiet moonlit night Jackson sent a smug expression his boss' way while folding his arms over his chest. The simple question he asked next instantly changing the arrogant bastard's haughty attitude in a matter of seconds.

"I hope you don't mind me asking "suh" but what exactly are y'all doing behind old man McGinty's barbershop this evening?" Jackson wondered aloud. "Only folks I know who bother ta drag themselves back here are the ones looking ta do something indecent."

Just as he predicted Mr. Macalister stiffened at his simple inquiry. The short rotund swine looking away guiltily as he took a step back, obviously trying to figure out the best escape route. "I... I thought I heard a noise." He tried weakly. "Thought there might be some thug back here robbing a poor body."

Jackson let loose a sharp snort at the obvious lie. "Now, now boss man you and me both know you ain't the type to risk your skin for anybody." He said smugly. "Fact, I ain't even seen y'all hold open a door for a lady before."

"Fine, then I was taking a shortcut home." Macalister ground out though gritted teeth. "It's late and I need to get home before the misses starts to worry."

"Weren't that either Mr. Macalister." Jackson insisted yet again. Waiting until he was sure no more excuses were coming he chuckled meanly at the older male, their eyes locking as he continued to smirk. "Alright, not that you're done lying that big ass of yours off how about y'all try telling the truth. Ya know, that ya came here to get yourself fucked silly by a stud like myself."

Face turning bright red after the horse's accusation Mr. Macalister puffed up, feigning outrage. "Why you god-damned Sodomite!" He all but sputtered. "How dare you accuse me of such an act! I'll have you know that I am a virtuous churchgoer! Never once had I ever had a homo-sex-u-all thought in my life! I'm a real man not a worthless son-of-a-bitch like---AHHH!"

Becoming incensed as Macalister went off into his self-righteous tirade Jackson suddenly surged forward with a fierce growl and took the pig by his jacket, spinning them around afterwards so he could slam him into a nearby wall with incredible force. Jackson had had just about enough of listening to the big blowhard spout off his nonsense!

"Alright boss man you listen up and you listen good." Jackson commanded darkly. "I was gonna let you go and forget about all this but now you got me pissed. So we're gonna make ourselves a nice little deal back in this here alley. You got that!?"

Though left reeling from his sudden impact with the wall Mr. Macalister sneered up at his captor with seething hatred. "You honestly think you can blackmail me son?" He huffed as he began to struggle. "I'm a Macalister, you even try and I'll have your ass locked up before you even know what's happening!"

"Yeah and while that may be true it still won't stop me from spreading your little secret everywhere I can!" Jackson fired back, not at all intimidated. If he was going down then so was his boss. "Imagine it, everyone hearing that Carl Macalister's a big ol' queer! Wonder how your wife will handle the news?"

Ceasing to thrash about at the mention of his wife Mr. Macalister gaped up at the man holding him off of the ground with fear in his eyes. If word did get out about his proclivities he'd be ruined! Not only would he loose a great deal of friends and business partners but no doubt his lovely Gretchen would divorce him and deny him that big fat inheritance she was getting once her folks passed.

Seeing that he had been backed up against a wall--both literally and figuratively--Carl growled out in frustration. "Fine... what sort of deal you want boy?" He mumbled irritably. "I'll do anything you all ask if it's within my power."

"Heh, now that's more like it." Releasing his grip Jackson watched with no short amount of amusement as the heavier man fell onto his bottom on the dirty alleyway ground. "First things first, I'll be keeping my job, we clear? Top it off too you can't ever fire me either."

"I suppose that'd be a given." Carl instantly agreed. It would be better to keep the horse close by now than risk him leaving and potentially spilling the beans. "What else?"

Squatting down Jackson took Mr. Macalister by his double chinny-chin-chin and forced him to meet his gaze. "Second, I want myself a raise." He demanded with a slap to a chubby cheek. "As many years as I've been working my ass off for you I've earned myself a bit of extra spending money."

Macalister huffed a little at that demand but eventually gave a nod. "That shouldn't be too hard either, I suppose. I am a rich man after all." He said smugly. "How's an extra five dollars a month."

"Make it fifty." Jackson firmly insisted, his tone flat and serious. "And don't you dare try ta take control of these negotiations again ya porker."

"P-PORKER!!" Carl repeated with an obstinate glare. When his look earned him a roll of the eyes the boar huffed. "Fine... fifty extra dollars a week it is."

That second demand accepted Jackson slowly stood back up and peered down at Mr. Macalister smugly. It felt awfully good having the pig by the short and curlies. Almost made up for all the years of sniveling he had done back at the ranch. Only thing that would make it better was what he planned to ask for next.

"Alright then sir, now that we got that bit 'o' business done there's only one more thing I want from ya." Jackson started with a snicker. "And iffin you refuse then our whole arrangement is null in void."

Face tinting a little as he was forced to look up, over the horse's bulge, Mr. Macalister held back his building annoyance. "Just spit it out already!" He snapped. "I ain't got all night to loiter around back here."

Raising an eyebrow Jackson decided to play mean and let his next mysterious mandate hang over the landowner's head for a moment. Never in his life had he had so much fun. But patience was not a virtue of his and before the silence dragged on too long he revealed what he wanted.

"Third thing I want is for y'all to stop running that mouth and put it to better use." Jackson said without hesitation. Lowering his hand he groped his large package, the small chuckle he made when Macalister's eyes went wide a pleased one. "Go on sir. Get my cock all nice and wet so It's slick enough ta fuck that curly tailed, lard filled keister of yours."

"W-W-WHAT!?" Carl cried out, face glowing even hotter as he unsuccessfully attempted to back away through the wall behind him. "Y-You have got to be kidding yourself man! There ain't no way in hell I'm going to do that no matter how much dirt you... have... on... ... ... ... damn son, is that thing for real?"

Having grown impatient as his chubby companion tried to back out of their deal Jackson decided to shut him up by unzipping himself right then and there. The musky stink of his groin wafting upwards as he pulled himself fully out of his dirty work jeans and gave his hardening member a few slow, purposeful strokes.

"Damn right it's real Mr. Macalister, sir." He said lowly, pride and manhood swelling at the pig's dazed comment. At eight plus inches he knew just how mouthwatering the sight of his dick could be to people. A fact he now happily took advantage of. "Course iffin y'all don't believe me then reach out and wrap them stubby fingers 'o' yours around it. I won't mind any."

Voice failing him as he eyed such an impressive tool Carl felt himself torn. Half of him wanting to cuss out the fucker blackmailing him while the other half craved to obey his filthy command. In the end it was that latter part that won the silent war, Macalister reaching out to grip the meaty organ being offered as he took over stroking duties with a heavy pant.

"Alright son... I'll agree to that last term." Carl mulishly complied. "But you dare breath a word to anyone about this and you will pay. I ain't above getting rid of you if the need arises."

"Like you'd ever have the nerve old man." Jackson smirked. "Now shut the fuck up and get to work!"

"Yeah, yeah boy I'm doing it." Mr. Macalister snorted as he removed his hat.

Their deal struck Carl shifted onto his knees and hesitantly mouthed at the large cock he was being forced to service. Grazing the sensitive flesh with his lips and tongue he applied a gentle suction to bloated head, the small spurt of precum he got upon doing so only driving him on as he fully took the organ into his mouth, three inches of it settling quite nicely into his cavernous maw.

"Yeah, that's it ya big fat porker." Jackson encouraged as he placed a hand on the back of the shorter man's head. "Sorry iffin I smell a little sir. I ain't had a chance to take a shower today so that's a whole day's worth of sweat and piss you're sniffing down there."

Inhaling deeply when he heard that Macalister let out a whine. The musky scent of the large, muscle-bound horse nearly overwhelming him as he relaxed his throat in order to take him even deeper down his throat. Though he'd never admit it to anyone this was why he visited the Cornholing spot every Monday. He just loved getting the chance to pretend that he was being dominated and subjugated by the same low-life brutes he ruled over during the day. Tonight was somehow better though, the very real power this Jackson Hardy fella had over him, making him glad he had decided to come a day early that week.

Manhood firmly implanted in the warm, wet, hotness of his new bitch's throat Jackson took it as the signal to start moving his hips. Brining his other hand up to join its brother he placed them both behind Mr. Macalister's neck and held him in place so he could thrust forward shallowly. Each roll of his hips he made causing the kneeling man gag and sputter as more of his meat was crammed down his throat.

"You... are... doing one hell of a job if I might say so sir." Jackson rumbled out as he peered down, the sight of Macalister's lips wrapped tightly around his cock rousing his desires even more. "Look at ya, nothing but a fat cocksucking whore. And y'all are going ta let me breed ya tonight too ain't ya. Gonna be my bitch?"

Reluctantly pulling off the shaft he was pleasuring for breath Carl peered up at Jackson, heavy pants coming out as spittle ran down his double chins. "You better believe it son." He huffed out, way past the point of caring about being insulted. If the horse wanted to call him all sorts vile names than he'd damn hell let him do it.

Drawing his eyes back down after that Macalister quickly buried his nose in the thick bush of dark black hair around the base of the girthy rod he was playing with. Inhaling deeply he lapped and tasted the sweaty area, gradually working his way lower until he was nuzzling and snuffling a pair of weighty balls contained inside a velvety, brown furred sack.

"Damn Mr. Macalister!! You really are a pig, aren't ya?" Jackson chuckled as his family jewels were sucked and nibbled on. Grabbing a folded over ear however the stallion quickly pulled the wanton man away from his sensitive bits. "But that's enough of that ya greedy porker." He informed. "I reckon that it's about time I got myself a good look at what I'll be fucking tonight."

"Fine, if your insisting so." Mr. Macalister said forlornly. Wiping his face off the older man took a moment to recover while giving his young buck an expectant look. "Not sure how I can give you that look you're a-wanting though."

"Well you can give it by wiggling yourself out of that ugly as sin suit you got on." Jackson easily and lecherously supplied. Flicking his eyes down and then back up he grinned. "I wanna see what you look like all naked, vulnerable, and stripped of all that finery y'all have when you prance around town dressed up like a millionaire."

Alarmed by that "request" Carl fearfully peered around in a panic. "Y-You mean out here in the open!?" He squawked. "W-What if someone c-comes by?"

"Y'all didn't seem worried about that just a few moments ago when you was busy sucking dick there boss man." Jackson quickly pointed out.

When the worry in Mr. Macalister's face only grew worse at that statement the stallion decided to take pity on the poor fretting sob. He may have been blackmailing the man but he understood the need for privacy. Looking around he quickly spotted a solution and motioned over to an alleyway he knew led to a dead end.

"Listen up fat man, there's an alley over there we can use since y'all are suddenly so shy." He informed impatiently. "It's remote enough where a soul won't see ya and iffin someone does come I'll be a-blocking their view so you can go off and hide real quick it need be."

Looking over to the same pathway Carl nodded, relieved. "Thank you." He mumbled as he began to pad over to it. "It's appreciated."

Jackson gave an amused huff. 'Who knew the fast bastard could be polite.' He thought as he followed after the pig.

Sauntering their way into narrow corridor he had pointed out Jackson eagerly watched as Mr. Macalister turned to him and slipped off his overcoat, revealing the gaudy baby blue buttoned up shirt he wore underneath. For the life of him Jackson couldn't understand why any grown man would wear such a color, but there in the soft glow of the moon, he had to admit it actually looked nice on his overstuffed frame.

But admiring clothing wasn't what he was there to do, waving his hand for his employer to continue the rancher continued observing as Macalister disrobed. After removing the bright white bowtie he wore around his neck and matching polished loafers the pig clumsily began fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, it too eventually undone and then shucked to the ground like the jacket before it.

It was as the flimsy article of cloth fell to the floor that Jackson got his first view of Carl's bare torso. Soft and squishy all over the older male boasted a full round belly. The large gut jiggling ever so slightly as he breathed heavily, obviously a little embarrassed about being naked as the day he had been birthed outdoors.

What drew Jackson's attention the most though was the flabby chest the pig had. Both left and right breast quite large, almost as big as a woman's. Reaching out for the left one he groped it without shame, his large inquisitive palm making his company hitch his breath and press into the touch.

"Nice cans ya got there boss man." Jackson chuckled, index and thumb giving a nipple he found a pinch. "Bet I can get them flapping around real good when we get going. Now, hurry. Off with the rest."

"Yes, of course son." Stepping back again Carl went to unbuckle his belt, but stopped when his blackmailer motioned for him to stop and spin around. "So you want to see my ass huh?" He chuckled, secretly excited. Most men seemed to enjoy his rather large posterior. Something which his wife often made fun off.

Turning around cumbersomely in their cramped surroundings Mr. Macalister fully loosened his belt and pushed down his pants down over his hips, exposing himself. Like always, he hadn't bothered with undergarments that evening, his plans making them an unnecessary bother.

Gaze roaming over the chunky bottom now pointed towards him Jackson let out a low, appreciative whistle. He wasn't usually one for fat men but Macalister had himself an awfully appetizing bottom. Nice and round with a big black spot over the left cheek. It just begged to be fucked and fucked and fucked over and over.

His lusts getting the better of him Jackson undid his own belt and dropped drawers. The Clydesdale then casually stepping out of them as he approach the object he was about to know quite intimately. Raising a hand when he neared he delivered a few sharp slaps to the unprotected rear end, the way it bounced as Mr. Macalister gave a sharp hiss sweet music.

"Ya know what ya big oinker? I'm gonna enjoy pounding the ever loving hell out of y'all tonight!" Jackson announced as he roughly positioned the landowner over a nearby crate. "I'm gonna jam my god damned dick so far up this ass that y'all are going poke outta your throat!"

"Oh my... yes please do that!" Mr. Macalister implored as he wagged his hips enticingly. "Give your daddy a good ol pounding son. Make me squeal. I'm a pig so it's second nature, ya know?"

Leaning over his partner Jackson huffed out a hot breath into the shorter man's folded ear. "You really like calling yourself Daddy don't ya?" Grinding his turgid meat against a warm furrow he chuckled. "That some fantasy of yours or do you and your son fool around when no one's looking?"

The way Carl gasped when he said that told Jackson all he wanted to know. He should have known that the Macalister's would have more than one dirty little secret. Truthfully he couldn't blame the man for giving in either. He knew exactly what sort of boy Robert Macalister was. Horny little shit had been eyeing the ranchers and farm hands working for his family ever since he could grow pubes.

And now, at the tender age of eighteen, Robby was a frequent visitor of the Cornholing Spot, though Jackson hadn't had the privilege of meeting him since he came sometime during the week. Just sorted rumors about a young chubby pig that fit the Macalister boy's general appearance.

Choosing to keep that little fact to himself however Jackson bit at the ear he was whispering into and gave another order, fingers going up to tap against Macalister senior's half open lips. "Make'um wet daddy." He simply said. "Gotta open you up before I stuff ya."

"Sure thing son." Tongue going out Carl wrapped it around the thick digits hovering in front of him and dragged them into his mouth, nibbling on the fingertips as he applied as much saliva as he could. Again he felt demeaned by such servitude, but his desire to obey was just too great.

"Hungry little fucker ain't ya?" The fire he felt in his loins building as he allowed his fingers to be sucked on Jackson eventually decided he had waited enough and pulled his hand free with a wet sound smack from Macalister's lips, roughly fingering the man's hole next.

"You best grit your teeth there sir." He remarked after several minutes of scissoring. "This ain't gonna be easy."

"No, but I'll enjoy it anyway." Carl commented. Showing his just how sincere he was as Jackson pulled his fingers free the heavyset man laid his upper body on the wooden box he was leaning over and reached back with both hands, prying his ass apart to expose the hole hidden between the doughy mounds.

Zeroing in on the tight hole immediately Jackson snorted. "Never gonna understand you rich folks." He said as he stood fully upright, one hand going to give his maleness a few pumps. "But why bother ta understand y'all when fucking you is just as good!?"

Gathering a large wad of spit in the back of his throat the horny horse let it dribble out, the slimy liquid landing dead center at Macalister's puckering hole and dripping downwards until he pressed the swollen crest of his meat against it, ready to commence with the main event.

"Ready?" Jackson questioned. Not that he would have stopped regardless.

Carl banged his head on the crate in frustration. "Do it now boy!" He whimpered, all dignity gone in the face of his overwhelming desire. "Fuck your daddy good!"

Jackson let out a mighty whoop. "AMEN SUH!"

Moving his hips with purpose Jackson let out a pleased grunt as the head of his cock easily pushed into the man below him. Warmth washing over the throbbing, sensitive crown he kept going, a good two or so inches sinking in as he gripped both sides of the Carl's hips, trying to steady himself.

Hole burning as he penetrated by the largest penis he had ever seen Mr. Macalister did indeed give a small, joyful squeal. This was just what he needed after two whole weeks of being a top during his and his son's little games. To be bred like some depraved whore in a dark, filthy back alley!

And a breeding is exactly what an eager Carl got next. Encouraged by the whimpering and moaning he heard Jackson quickly set to work, escalating the ferocity of their coupling with a fierce snarl. Pulling out nearly all the way the stallion then shoved himself back inside hard as he could. All the way to the hilt! The mighty clap that his thighs made as they connected with Mr. Macalister's large pink bottom barely audible as it was drowned out by said pig's enthusiastic cry of pure euphoria.

Jackson wasn't one to let the older man recover from the sudden surge of pleasure either. Just as soon as he had fully sheathed himself in the scalding hot tightness that was boar's ass he was pulling out again, his next return to paradise even harder and faster than the last.

Soon nothing could be heard in the hidden area behind the barbershop besides Carl Macalister's sobbing cries and squeals for more and Jackson Hardy's heavy grunting. The two men working up a mighty sweat as they rutted like pair of wild animals during an intense heat, the world around them clearly long forgotten.

Halfway through the onslaught Jackson suddenly pulled out, stood Carl up and spun him around. The hefty man shoved down onto his back and his legs lifted high a moment later as the horse reentered him without a single word. Their fucking growing even more frantic in the new position thanks in part to the thick, veiny shaft between the younger man's hips rubbing up against the squealing slut's sensitive prostate.

"That's a boy. Give it to me real good!" Mr. Macalister managed to get out as his body was wracked with powerful thrusts. "Give your daddy just what he needs and leave him sore as fuck tomorrow."

Glaring down hotly at the man he was fucking Jackson took a great amount of pleasure in noticing the way his employers chest was bouncing around. He knew those suckers would bounce when he got serious. "Y'all really are nothing but a whore, Macalister!" He mocked with a sneer. "Nothing but a god forsaken harlot who lets real men fuck his asshole wide open without a second thought. Iffin the world could only see ya now, on your back, taking it up the ass from someone who works for you. They'd laugh their asses off I'm betting!"

"Yeah son, I'm scum ain't I!?" Carl returned, the dirty talk getting him even more riled up if that was even possible. "Fuck you are sooooo damn goooooood at this! That's a boy! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Make me cum!"

"Oh, you want me ta let ya cum already ya greedy bastard!" Jackson shouted as he fell down onto his forearms, their faces now inches apart. "Y'all just can't wait ta squirt out a load can ya, ya horny little piggy!?"

When Macalister began to repeatedly squeal in his face Jackson chuckled and reached down between them, hand wrapping around the pig's own forgotten member. Not surprising the fatter man wasn't anywhere as big as he was. Jackson guessing he was only around four inches big as he began to stroke it fervently.

'Guess that explains his highfaluting attitude all the time.' The ranch hand thought smugly. 'Who'd have known that the great Carlson Herbert Macalister was one of them overcompensating little bitches.'

Unaware of the mockery being silently bestowed on him Carl shuddered as he was both stroked and fucked at the same time. "Oh son..." He keened. "You really do know how ta treat an old man right don't ya!"

"Like a big slut like you is hard ta please." Jackson retorted. "I could pull out and just start using my pinky finger and you'd cum all over yourself!"

Mr. Macalister huffed out a small, breathless laugh. "Not gonna lie son, this point I probably would." He admitted. "But I'm sure hoping you'll finish me off by fucking me with that wondrously big dick betwixt yours legs instead. Can't get enough of it!"

"I bet y'all can't porker!" Jackson snorted. "Fat ol' slut!"

Lifting himself up again the stallion gripped both of Macalister's short stubby legs and pushed them up against the pig's flabby chest. Then, with the new angle allowing him to go even deeper, he truly went all out. Snapping his hips back and forth Jackson savagely fucked the man, the screams of joy that came out of Macalister every time he bottomed out making the horse neigh out in amusement as the old busted up box they were using as a table creaked loudly.

With such an intense pace being used it didn't take long for Carl to signal his release. Rolling his head back against the shoulders the proud southern gentleman groaned like the stuffed pig he was and came and came and came and came! Each voluminous rope of thick milky cum that sprayed out of his stubby cock not only covering his own large gut but also Jackson's arms, stomach, and chest as he rode out an intensely long orgasm that lasted for several agonizing minutes.

"Fuck it, I completely forgot how much you curly tails cum when you finish." Jackson commented as he watched. "But I bet I can outdo ya when it comes ta aiming though!"

His own orgasm hitting him like a speeding train Jackson quickly pulled out of the raw and red hole he had wrecked and fisted himself to completion, aiming as he did. With a grunt and a shout he fired, his own seed arching over the prone body before him and landing with a wet splatter all over the face of the blissed out creature he had so thoroughly ravished into submission.

In the several minutes following their overwhelming climaxes both Jackson and Mr. Macalister remained where mostly silent. The sexed out men left panting and huffing away as they stared at one another with unreadable expressions.

Then with a chuckle and a snort Jackson gave the other man a fat wink. "Damn, that was good." He hummed. "Makes me glad I ended up blackmailing you into it."

"Y-Yes." Unsteadily sitting up as the cum covering him began to cool, Macalister did his best to clean his marred face. "You still ain't gonna... tell anyone about any of this, right?" He asked fearfully. "We had a deal after all."

"Don't worry porker. I'll keep my mouth shut." Jackson assured the nervous man.

Turning away from the naked boar the Clydesdale bent over and quickly gathered his own discarded pants, the lustful look he received as he did so from a still hungry Carl Macalister unnoticed as he retrieved the article of clothing.

"Of course, my silence only stands iffin y'all hold up your end of the bargain." Jackson added as he stood upright again and peered over his shoulder. "Remember, you can't fire me, ya gotta increase my pay by fifty dollars and... heh-heh you gotta let me fuck y'all any ol' time I like."

Snapped out of his gawking at the firm backside on display Mr. Macalister glared at the younger male. "W-What!?" He gaped. "I thought this was all a onetime thing!"

Stepping into his jeans Jackson slowly pulled them up before he answered the angry question. "You're stupid iffin you think I'm satisfied with fucking y'all just this once boss man." He proclaimed with a smirk. "I own you now and I intend to use y'all as often as I can. Hum... let's see... once, twice a day should suffice I think. Still gotta get some work done after all."

"B-B-But my wife!" Carl argued, though the fire at which he did so was weak. "She's bound to figure out something if I'm sneaking out of the house every night."

"Then we won't have you sneaking outta your house at night, will we?" Buckling his belt Jackson went back over to Macalister and invaded his space, the pig quickly trapped with his back against the wall. "You're plenty rich, if I recall. So I'm sure you can find us a nice little place somewhere where I can ride that big ol' flabby ass 'o' yours for as loooooong as I need ta."

Parting his lips about to argue that that was even more dangerous Carl quickly found himself with a mouth full of horse tongue as his new lover unexpectedly leaned forward and forced him into a blistering kiss. The way the younger man dominated and controlled his mouth as he intensified deepened it causing all reluctance he felt to fly right out the window.

Smirking into the kiss as the moments went by Jackson thought about all the little perks he'd now be getting. With Mr. Macalister under his thrall he'd be able to virtually rule over the Macalister family ranch like a king. That meant more money in his pocket, easier work for him and a few of his chosen friends, and most certainly a hell of a lot more sex now that he had a willing slut at his beck and call.

So as previously stated: Jackson Hardy appeared to be a simple man with even simpler tastes to most who knew him. An assumption he fully agreed with if he was ever asked about it. In his mind however Jackson wasn't such an average Joe after all. Nah, he was a man who reached for the stars whenever the opportunity presented itself. And luckily for him, that night he had bagged himself one hell of a star to hitch himself up to.

The end...