Prelude to a picture show (13-Final Episode)

Prelude to a Picture Show


How to Get Soundly Wrecked by the Sweet Boy You Secretly Love

I waited for Puck outside the grooming barn. When he came out the door he practically jumped into my arms. I grabbed him and fell against the wall of the barn so I didn’t go over. He wasn’t all that heavy but he moved with the oblivious energy of an excited labrador retriever.

“A free afternoon at the lake! With the sexy ranch photographer!” Puck said, caging me with his legs and shoving his pelvis against me.

“Oh my. What have you got there?” I asked, grinning.

He winked. “What I always have there. Something to put in your mouth, Mr. Lambert. Or anywhere else you’d like.”

I playfully shoved at him. “Aren’t we going to the lake?”

“Sure. It’s great weather for a swim. And anything else we decide on.”

Puck stepped back and took my hand, pulling me off the wall and leading me along the path. When we reached the bunkhouse, Puck ducked inside to grab towels and sun tan lotion. When he came out I was standing with my hands in my pockets, enjoying the summer afternoon.

Puck appeared subdued.

“What’s wrong?”

He frowned. “Nobody’s there. I bet they’re all at the fucking lake. So much for a sexy rendezvous.”

“We could…uh…skip the lake and go to the shack? Right?” I pretended to brush a piece of lint of his t-shirt. I really only wanted to touch him. “Nobody’s going to wonder where we are. We’ll just have to be careful coming back.”

Puck’s smile returned. “Okay. I’ll put this stuff back and get a blanket.”

“Do you have condoms?”

Puck stared at me, the corner of his lip twitching. He hesitated, glancing at my groin, then meeting my gaze. “Do we need condoms?”

Oh fuck. The thought of having Puck with no barrier in the way made me lose my mind.


“I actually haven’t gone bareback with anyone,” he admitted. “And it’s been a long time since the last guy. But if you’re nervous about it–“

I shook my head, smiling at the ground.

“No. I’m not.” I met his gaze again. “I was tested for everything last year, and haven’t been with anyone since.” I ran my fingers through my hair. It was embarrassing to admit, although Puck had basically said the same thing.

But I grinned. “You’re the one who should be worried.”

Puck cocked his head. “Why?”

I scuffed the toe of my shoe in the dirt.

“Because I have plans, ponyboy.”

“Hold that thought, Oliver. Jesus.”

I laughed as he slipped back into the bunkhouse.


It was very different making our way to the little shack in the daytime–less nerve wracking, what with the pleasant sounds of day birds and the scurry of squirrels all around us, rather than the haunting hoots of owls and the spooky sounds of animals I couldn’t identify. 

Puck knew the way and it didn’t take long to find the place again. This time, I was prepared for the decrepit state of the place, although it looked a dirtier in daylight. 

As soon as we stepped inside and Puck pulled the door shut, I grabbed him and shoved him against the wall. 

“Whoa. Oliver, what the f—“

He didn’t have time to say more before I attacked his mouth. The vibrations of his startled laughter reverberated against me as he opened and melted beneath my frenzied assault, letting me take what I wanted. His hands clutched the shirt at my waist, pelvis thrusting against me as we tangled ourselves in a firestorm of lust.

“Puck,” I moaned. “Fuck!”

I couldn’t get enough. It was making me desperate and greedy, but my boy was keeping up. He popped the button on my jeans and slipped his hand inside, finding my dick and pulling it up so it could stand unheeded. I winced at first, then groaned as he handled it as roughly I was handling him.

“Oh, you are so hard for me, old man. Shit.” Puck breathed.

I grinned at the insult, tilting his face up so I could attack the arch of his neck with my lips and teeth. I wanted him so bad. I wanted everything.

“Are you still too sore to—“ I panted.

“Nope,” he said, voice dirty and dark. “I need you inside me.”

“Okay. Okay,” I said. I glanced at the mattress, which still needed to be covered.

He laughed. “Slow down old man. You’re gonna give yourself a coronary.”

I pulled away from him and narrowed my eyes.

“Very funny.” I pierced him with my gaze and placed a chaste kiss against his swollen mouth. “Go get the mattress ready so I can fuck you into it.”

I swear, his pupils darkened in front of me.

“Fuck,” he swore, but he moved away from the wall. I couldn’t resist giving his cute-as-hell ass a quick swat.

“Ow. I’m going,” he said, as he did my bidding. “Calm your tits, Oliver. We’ve got all afternoon.”

I watched him, loving the sinewy way his body moved as he covered the mattress with the clean black sheet he’d brought.

“There,” he said. “Anything else?” He stood beside the covered mattress, gazing at me with an almost devoted excitement.

“Yeah. Strip. Everything off.”

“This is a side of you I really haven’t seen before,” Puck said, peeling off his shirt. “Glimpses maybe, but never the full dominant vibe. I like it.”

I grinned. “Good.”

“I need a safe word.”

“Yes. You do. Let’s use ‘beach’.”

“All right. But I don’t plan on using it.”

“Good,” I grinned. “Now lie down on your front, with your arms and legs spread.”

He did as I’d asked, body softly golden against the black sheet. He swivelled his head to look at me. “I didn’t bring any rope.”

“I know. We don’t need it. I know you’re going to listen to me and do as you’re fucking told.”

Puck closed his eyes and shuddered. “Yes, Sir.”

“That’s good. I like that,” I said, kneeling on the mattress and sliding my hands to his ass. My thumbs slipped into his crack and I pulled those softly curved cheeks apart. I blew on his pink hole, making him shiver as it winked at me.

“Damn,” I hissed. “I should have asked Liv if I could borrow your tail.”

“Fuck, Oliver. That’s what made me sore. I just want you now.”

“Well, you’re gonna get me in a minute.”

I gazed around the shack. “Shit, we should have brought lube.”

“I did. It’s in my pocket.” Puck pointed at the pants he’d thrown to a corner of the mattress. I found the small tube in a moment as Puck reached for his cock.

“Don’t touch yourself,” I said while I greased up his ass to his pleasure-filled sounds. Then I had a thought. If we did it in this position I’d have to do all the hard work. If I lay on my back, I could make Puck do the heavy lifting.

“Wait a second,” I said, flopping down onto the bed beside him. I gazed up at his face, so handsome and young, his expression excited and unguarded. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m relaxing,” I said as I pushed down my pants and used the rest of the lube to grease up my cock. “Because you’re going to ride me, ponyboy.”

His eyebrows arched and his gaze went to my erection. He licked his lips. “Oh yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Puck pushed himself onto his haunches, giving me a skeptical look. “Do you think you’re quite ready for that experience, Oliver?”

I laughed at the confident tone in his voice. “I think I can handle it.”

“Really.” Puck’s gaze drifted over my body in a way that made all my nerve endings sit up and take notice.

Somehow, the dynamic had changed. I tried to maintain control.

“Get on my cock, Puck. Now.”

He shrugged, affecting nonchalance. “Fine. Have it your way.”

With the grace of a cat he stretched himself out and climbed over top of me, causing me to tip my head back to maintain eye contact. He had the most intense look on his face as he stared down at me like a crouched jungle cat transfixing its prey.

“What?” I said.

“Mmm. Nothing. Just taking a screen shot in my brain of how you look before you get wrecked.”

I grinned at his cheekiness and slapped him across the ass. “Get busy. I want that ass of yours to swallow my cock and do a fucking dance on it.”

Puck laughed, the reflex sending a puff of warm cinnamony breath onto my face.

I closed my eyes and inhaled. “I love that toothpaste.”

“Me too. I like spicy things in my mouth.”

“No kidding.”

Puck drew up and positioned himself over me as I grabbed my dick at the base and held it steady. Watching him spread his own cheeks, bumping his hole at the top of my eager penis, almost made me come.

“Oh fuck,” I whimpered. Maybe I should have just done it the other way. I’d be inside him by now and it would be—“ A breath hissed through my teeth as my cock suddenly became engulfed in Puck’s slippery heat. “Oh God.”

Puck didn’t give me time to recover before he pushed down on the rest of me. I don’t know how he took me inside him so easily and thoroughly, but my eyes rolled back in my head as his body gripped my cock in its warmth.

“Oh my God,” I moaned, letting go of myself and gripping Puck’s knees, to do what, I wasn’t sure. Slow him down? Make him go faster? I was out of my depth.

“That’s it, Ollie-boy. Hold onto something ‘cause things are about to get wild.” The confidence in his tone undid me. I realized that I’d only gained control in past encounters because he’d let me. Now he had me where he wanted me.

“Hmm? What’s that, Ollie?” he said, the casual nickname giving me chills as Puck wiggled himself on my erection, making me stutter and groan. “I can’t quite make that out? Oh? You say go easy on you because you’re an innocent photographer who’s gotten in over his head? Over his head—get it? Well, not a chance.” Puck sighed as he moved fluidly on my cock with the skills of a pole dancer. “I’m gonna fuck you ‘till you scream my name and give me your babies.”

Holy mother of God.

I gazed up at this banshee that was going to take everything it wanted from me without a qualm, and thanked God I’d made the decision to accept Adam’s offer to come to The Braided Crop Ranch. Not for the career advancement or the voyeuristic opportunity to catalogue the outrageous amounts of kink that went on here, but because this moment of debauchment by my favourite ponyboy was already something I couldn’t imagine foregoing.

My mouth opened on a groan as Puck placed his hands over mine and arched his back, lifting up in a serpentine twist and sliding back down on me, making my cock think it had died and gone to Heaven.

It had. Puck’s body was like a religious shrine to me. I lay there with wide eyes and parted lips, praying silently to the sweaty priest above me.

“Oh fuck yeah,” he growled, in a voice the opposite of sacred. “Your cock feels like a torpedo. It’s fucking perfect.” He moved slowly and rhythmically on my dick, causing ripples of sensation to shoot up through my whole body.

“Puck, Puck,” I panted, gripping his knees, trying to ground myself when this was all getting out of my control too quickly. “Oh, my fucking God. Puck!”

“What? You gonna come already?” he laughed, maintaining his rythm as his dick bounced in the air before me, shiny with his own arousal.

“I—I—“ I stuttered, as the pleasure increased and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Puck’s skilled writhing was pulling it out of me as easily as a man uncorking a bottle, and with another breath I exploded, my body stiffening as lightning shot from my balls into my ruthless assailant. “Awe, fuck. Fuck! Oh fuck.”

I made the most embarrassing noise as I came. I gazed wide-eyed at the glory that was Puck doing aerobics on my cock and smiling, like he’d known all along I was his bitch but had waited until this moment to show me just how much.

He sat down hard and jerked his cock so viciously I worried he’d take off into the air. Instead, his breath hitched and he came, cock shooting all over me as I was finishing up inside of him, his throat issuing a long, intense groan as he gave himself up to it.

For long moments we lay there blinking at each other, letting the intensity subside and the real world break in.

“What…the fuck…was that?” I whispered. “Am I alive?”

“Seems like it. That was the Puck wants to fuck you into the ground special. You like?”

I sighed, still scrambling to rearrange my brain cells. “I don’t think like is the…right word.”

“Well, you survived it. That’s something.” He smirked, flicking some jizz onto my chest with his finger. “I did a Pollock on you. Sorry.”

I glanced down at where Puck’s spunk was artfully arranged on the skin of my abdomen, then met his gaze. “No, I like it. I love it, even.”

He grinned. “You dirty, dirty man. And here I thought you were after me for my brain.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “On a pony play farm?”

Puck laughed. “Okay. Well, sure. But you have to admit, I’m smarter than most of these dudes.”

“Well, you’re more of a smart-ass, that’s for sure.”

Puck slid off my dick and propped himself on his elbow. “I don’t think you should be maligning my ass after it just sent you spiralling through the milky way.” He swirled a bit of the drying jizz with his fingertip.

“Fine. I take it back.”

“Oh, you’ll take it front and back if I want you to.” Puck realized how ridiculous he was starting to sound and cackled a laugh. “Sorry. I’m a bit punchy right now. That was…epic.”

“Yes, it was.”

He twined his hand with mine as we gazed up at the roof of the shed.

“We should really attack this place with a couple of brooms if we want to keep coming here,” Puck said.

“There are a lot of cobwebs up there. Probably tons of spiders.” I shuddered. “What if one drops onto me?” I started to get up but Puck held onto my hand tightly to prevent me. 

“Then I will vanquish it in a blaze of fury.” He rolled onto his side and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. “I’ll protect you, Oliver. Don’t worry.”


On Friday, Adam and Kamal set up a projector that I could connect to my laptop in order to show everyone a selection of the best images I’d taken so far. Since the weather forecast was clear the communal supper was postponed until eight, so we could watch the slideshow of the photos when the sun started to go down around nine o’clock.

I was excited. I was pleased with the photos and I hoped they impressed everyone, particularly Adam, Kamal and one ponyboy in particular. The ponyboy who kept shooting me shy glances and winks when nobody else was looking.

Puck had hung out with Lincoln and Alex during the meal, keeping his distance from me. I didn’t mind. I knew that, even though we weren’t fooling Adam or Kamal, and likely the other ponyboys realized there was something going on, Puck got a kick out of the fact that we were fucking behind everybody’s backs. I kind of liked that, too, although it was starting to feel a bit ridiculous to deny what was so obvious. But if it made Puck happy, I’d keep up the ruse.

Once darkness fell and the meal had been cleared away, I connected my laptop to the projector and Kamal clapped his hands together.

“All right, all right. Settle down, you hooligans. It’s time for a presentation.”

“Yes SIR!” Someone called out. I was surprised it wasn’t Puck.

There was general laughter. But everyone did settle down and Adam took over from Kamal.

“As you know, Oliver has been at our kinky ranch on an important assignment. And that assignment is to capture what he can of our day-to-day activities, in as artistic a way as possible, so we can post these photos to our website and social feeds in order to let people know what to expect and what The Braided Crop Ranch is all about.”

Everyone applauded and a couple of people whistled.

“Tonight, we have a selection of the most…delicious…images that I think I’ve ever seen. Oliver has taken this assignment and run with it, producing a plethora of incredible photos, starring,” he gestured at the crowd of ponyboys and trainers, “all of you.”

Again, applause and laughter filled the night air.

“But nobody will know it’s you as we have been extremely careful not to reveal any identifying features in these photos. This also leads to a wonderful sense of universality and timelessness in the images, which simply adds to their appeal. But enough talk. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Adam nodded to me and I smiled, projecting the first image onto the wall of the main house.

Gasps sounded, along with muttered curses.

I’d chosen this particular photo because it exquisitely captured the sense of restraint and submission required in the arena, when a ponyboy was ready for his morning or afternoon training session and waiting to be taken in hand.

The ponyboy in the photo was Lincoln, but that didn’t signify at all. The shot of his arms pinioned by the leather arm bands, the back of his head as it bowed, with the metal buckle of the ball gag light against his dark hair , and a glimpse of the scuffed toes of his docs over his shoulder, gave the viewer the impression of a supplicant awaiting orders. It was a gorgeous shot with the background out of focus and the black leather accoutrements of the regular tack sharply defined.

I took a breath and clicked through to the next one.

It was a close-up of a cock in the steel cage. I was the only person who knew it belonged to Puck. The photo was incredible, with the shine of the steel echoed in the sparkles of pre-ejaculate that dripped from the bulging red tip. A glistening pearl of fluid was stretched toward the bottom of the shot but remainded connected to the glans by a spider’s silky thread.

Someone groaned. Someone else said, “That is so fucking hot.”

I clicked through to the next shot, which was the image of Kamal’s hand in mid-act of pumping a ponyboy’s cock in reward. Everyone could tell it was Kamal’s forearm and hand by the dark hair that grew in delicate whorls there, but people who weren’t frequent clients of the BCR wouldn’t know.

I heard Kamal’s soft laughter and his muttered, “Jesus,” as the ponyboys cursed again.

“I’m gonna need Kamal’s assistance after this slideshow,” Joshua said.

Kamal turned. “I don’t give out freebies. You have to work for that.”

I risked a glance at Puck. He seemed riveted to the photo, his back straight and hands curled at his sides. But he side-eyed me and quirked his lip in acknowledgement, nodding briefly.

Image after image clicked by, detailing the life of the ponyboys at The Braided Crop Ranch, in vivid colour. In the grooming barn and arena, and out in the fresh air of the paddock.

I’d included the shot of Puck pissing into the grass that I’d taken that first morning, and when it went up I heard him gasp. The photo had been taken from the side and only the folded material of his jeans could be seen, outlined by the golden rays from the early morning sun. An ethereal cloud of vapour collected in front of him, looking like something out of a fairy story and not the result of Puck’s warm piss hitting the cold grass.

“Jesus, Oliver,” he said. I glanced over, worried I’d upset him by sharing this private moment. 

But his gaze met mine with awe and subdued appreciation. He stood and walked to me. My finger froze on the laptop key as Puck gracefully lowered himself into my lap, surrounded me with his arms, and nuzzled into my neck.

A comforting warmth spread from Puck’s languid body sharing its heat with me, and also from his public show of affection and the soft clapping of the watching crowd.

Laughter and muttered sentiments such as, “Finally.” And “I told you so.” wrapped us with acceptance and kindness.

I took my hand off the keyboard and enfolded Puck in a tight embrace, kissing his cheek and whispering words of gratitude into his ear, for claiming me in front of everyone. I didn’t know what the future held for us beyond our time at The Braided Crop Ranch. But I was determined to find out if this powerful thing between us was as significant as it felt.

Because I knew by that point in my life that a connection this strong, this intense, and this unrelenting was something to hold onto with both hands and a whole, fiercely beating, heart.

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