My godfather and Don Macana

You will recall that I met Don Macana on the weekend when my men celebrated my birthday. It's unnecessary to say that upon meeting him, I was like a hot and boiling hen, and I was seething with excitement. That afternoon and night, he fucked me twice, both times marvelously, as it was the first time I had done it with a man, I think.

I was surprised that my godfather told him about our relationship. I assumed he would keep it to himself, especially knowing that the gaucho always maintains his masculinity. However, I didn't ask anything, I took it as part of my submission and obedience, and if he considered doing it for me, it was fine.

Don Macana started joining us for our Wednesday barbecues, unforgettable barbecues, in the summer under the stars in the patio of the house, and in the winter inside the ranch, but always gathered in total camaraderie. Chalala came rarely, so the group remained with just three of us.

On one occasion, during a conversation I had with my godfather while I was at work and he was passing by, he asked me what I wanted to do when we were together. My response was simple and clear: "Godfather, I want to be yours, serve you, obey you in everything, but what I like most is to be at your feet, licking your boots, for you to order me to do it, to make me leave them shiny, and to see you dressed in your work clothes. The rest is up to you." He only responded with "Ah, okay."

So, every time he allowed it, when we talked at work and were alone, he would ride his horse, and I would stand next to him, sucking his rubber boots, caressing them, licking them, and if I could and he authorized it, I would jerk him off while standing next to his horse.

At his ranch, I would attend to him and serve him. He would sit in his chair, and with just a glance, he would manage me, call me, make me kneel before him, and order me to clean his boots. He always wore rubber boots, and the leather ones were only for special occasions. While I was at his feet, he would lean on another chair, watch my work with attention, change the position of his legs, rest both or one of them on my shoulders, press my head between his legs, and bring me closer to him until I reached his crotch. He would only let me smell his scent, and other times he would open his fly and let me suck his cock for minutes that were pure bliss. All of this was wrapped in his leather chaparreras, his scent, oh god...

My godfather's scent was special, a mix of leather and horse sweat, an opium for my senses.

That's how Don Macana appeared at the rodeo. He lived in the same town, just a few houses away, and since there were only about ten houses in total, nothing was out of the control of the inhabitants. Any noise that was made, someone was already spying from somewhere.

My visits were already known, and they only saw our barbecues. Don Macana would arrive whenever he heard my tr...