Bunkhouse Part 1

My parents had been killed in an automobile accident in New York City, leaving me, their only child, Hannah, all alone. I knew I couldn’t afford to live alone and was despondent about my future. At my mom’s funeral, her younger sister and her husband comforted me and hoped I would deal with my grief. Natalie and her husband Ron were in their forties, well off, and offered to take me in, which I greatly appreciated. They lived on a five thousand-acre cattle and horse ranch outside Bosman, Montana. At first, I was apprehensive; I had been a city girl my whole life and knew nothing about the ranching life. But having no other options, I graciously accepted. After the funeral, with the help of our family attorney, I managed to get all the loose ends tied up and was ready to move.

As I boarded the plane to Bosman, my entire existence was packed in three suitcases, and I wondered what my future would hold. Upon landing, I was met by my aunt and a tall, handsome cowboy.

“Hi Hannah, how was your flight?” Natalie asked, hugging me.

“It was fine, Aunt Natalie,” I smiled at the pair.

“Hannah, this is our ranch foreman, Brett,” Natalie offered.

“Hello,” I said, shaking his rough, strong hand.

“The pleasure is all mine, ” he said in a southern drawl, tipping his cowboy hat to me.

We gathered my luggage and walked to the parking lot, and to my surprise, Natalie jumped into the middle of the bench seat next to Brett. On the drive home, I noticed Brett resting his hand on Natalie’s inner thigh, and she gently pushed it away. I thought it terribly inappropriate for Brett to do to a married woman and his boss’s wife. We arrived at the sprawling ranch. It was truly magnificent. The twelve thousand square foot house replicated a famous hunting lodge.

My room had a bedroom and a sitting room with a large television and a full bathroom, and the bedroom boasted a king-sized canopy bed. On either side of the bed were two double French doors leading to a large deck wrapped around the second story and a breathtaking view of the mountains. I spent the rest of the day unpacking and setting up my room. I was called for dinner at six pm to a large dining room and a table set for four people. My aunt and uncle joined me, and to my surprise, Brett.

“How do you like your room, Hannah?” My uncle asked as the staff brought out our salads.

“Oh, it’s beautiful, uncle,” I replied, thankful.

“That’s Good. Your room is next door to ours, so if you get scared, you know where to find us,” my uncle laughed.

“Thank you, uncle,” I replied.

“Hannah, if there is anything you need, the staff will take care of it for you; don’t be afraid to ask,” my aunt said.

“I want to thank both of you for all you’re doing for me, and I want to pull my weight around the ranch, so I expect to have chores to do every day,” I told them.

“That’s not necessary, Hannah. I have twenty people who live and work on the ranch to do those things,” my uncle replied.

“Uncle, if I’m going to live here, I’m going to contribute,” I demanded.

“Haha, all right, Hannah. If you insist, I’ll have Brett make up a list of choirs for you to do,” my uncle agreed.

“Yeah, I’ve got choirs she can handle, for sure,” Brett said with a shit-eating grin.

My aunt gave Brett the death stare, and I wondered how much I could trust Brett.

“Great, it’s settled; I’ll start tomorrow morning,” I said, proud of myself.

“Alright, Miss Hannah. Meet me on the front porch at nine a.m., and I’ll walk you through your duties.

“Great,” I replied.

After a wonderful dinner, we gathered on the front porch, my aunt and I drinking wine, Brett and my uncle having a cigar and scotch, the men talking cattle and horses, and my aunt and I talking about ranch life. I had a fantastic night’s sleep, and after breakfast, I dressed for my first day of work. I wore some worn-out jean shorts and a white tube top that showed off my tall, lean frame and my firm but not too big breasts. I put on my gym shoes, sat on the front porch, and waited for Brett.

“Well, good morning, Miss Hannah, don’t you look the sight,” Brett said, eyeing me up.

“Thank you,” I said, blushing slightly.

“Miss Hannah, we need to get you in some better shoes. A rattler will bite right through those,” Brett told me.

“Rattlers, you mean like in snakes?” I said, alarmed.

“Yes, ma’am. Let’s see if we can find you some cowboy boots and a good pair of gloves, “Brett recommended.

Brett walked me to the tack room and found a pair of gloves for me.

“What size shoe do you wear,” He asked.

“A size seven,” I replied.

After searching for a bit, he returned with a pair of black and red cowboy boots.

“Try these on,” He ordered.

I sat on a box and pulled the boots on. They were a bit big, but they fit OK.

“How do I look?” I asked about me in the boots.

“Darling, you look like a walking felony,” Brett answered smiling from ear to ear.

I blushed and bowed my head.

“Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the ranch,” Brett said.

He handed me a cowboy hat, and we were on our way, first to the two rings where the cowboys were breaking horses and the other where they were separating cattle. My arrival set off a continuing round of wolf whistles and howls from the men.

“Don’t pay them no mind, their just horny cowboys,” Brett told me.

I looked at the men through the dust clouds as they stopped and scoped me out. Bret led me to the two horse barns, and I was surprised by their beauty. The first barn held twenty horses, the second ten ponies, and the cowboy’s horses. We walked past horses in the aisle as four Hispanic men cleaned out their stalls, the men looking at me and smiling while speaking Spanish. I saw Brett laughing as they spoke.

“What are they saying? Are they talking about me?” I asked Brett.

“Don’t worry, miss, they’re just admiring your beauty,” Brett told me.

I stopped at one of the horses in the aisle, petted, and talked to him.

“Are you a good boy, huh, are you,” I asked the horse.

I stepped around the horse and gasped.

“Oh my God,” I covered my mouth.

Between the horse’s legs was a two-foot rock-hard cock jerking in the air.

“I think he likes you, Miss Hannah,’ Brett said, laughing.

“Oh, God, it’s enormous,” I said, panicked.

“He can probably smell your cunt. Horses have an acute sense of smell,” Brett said matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me!” I said, offended by his rude and inappropriate comment.

“Miss Hannah, you’re not in New York anymore, don’t get offended by words, or you’ll be pissed off all day long,” Brett lectured me.

“That was uncalled for,” I replied, still offended.

“Are you on the rag?” Brett again crossed the line.

“What? How dare you,” I said, stunned by his rudeness.

“The horses can smell you when you’re on the rag,” Brett continued.

“That, sir, is none of your business,” I said as I angrily crossed my arms.

“OK, but if that happens to every stallion you meet today, you know why,” Brett alerted me.

Next, Brett took me to the men’s bunkhouse, a long building with two gathering areas at each end and bunks on either side of a wide aisle. It smelled like sweat, cigarettes, and stale beer. Each bunk had a headboard and a place for personal items, and at the foot of the bunk was a trunk where they kept their clothes.

“So, Miss Hannah, I’m going to leave you with the men cleaning the stalls, and they’ll show you how to feed and water the horses,” Brett announced.

We walked back to the first horse barn, and Brett spoke to the men in Spanish as they undressed me with their eyes. As Brett spoke, the men made gestures and laughed. I couldn’t determine what it meant, but I assumed it was demeaning.

“OK, are you ready to start?” Brett asked.

“Yeah,” I said, disgusted.

With that, Brett patted my butt cheek and walked out as I jumped in anger.

“Don’t do that,” I screamed.

I turned to the four Hispanic men, and all four of them smiled at me; one of them pointed to me and lifted his shirt. I assume wanting me to show them my tits.

“No,” I shouted.

Another one pointed at me and pretended to unbutton his pants and pull his zipper down, and pretended to wiggle out of his pants.

“No,” I said again.

One of them grabbed my breast, and I slapped him soundly.

“How dare you,” I screamed.

The men laughed, split up, and returned to cleaning the stalls as one man stayed behind and showed me how to feed and water the horses.