He had to sit and listen to those awful engines roar.You ain't gonna jump no more.Chorus:Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die.Gory, gory, what a hell...of way to die.Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die.He ain't gonna jump no more."This story reprises some of the characters and the locale from my earlier story, The Other Woman. Thanks to techsan for the editing job.PROLOGUE — BIG BEND, TEXASSummer, 1987We, my buddy Bobby Morse and a couple of our friends, had been riding our horses on the Blue. A when, not if. It didn't help that I would sometimes deliberately masturbate with the chance of getting caught, such as with the door open or in the living room after school when I knew I had maybe half an hour before my sister or one of my parents got home. I would play and edge, and then when I heard the door downstairs open I would go for it not knowing they would be going into the kitchen first or coming straight upstairs, so I would time my orgasm at the last possible moment I thought I. More

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