Goddamn phone!! Why is the ringer so loud? My head is killing me! Oooh, I think I'm going to be sick! I shouldn't have had that sixth tequila shot. Will someone answer the fucking phone?
I clawed my way from beneath the warmth and safety of the blanket and looked at the clock. It was hard to see through the haze of my hangover, but I was pretty sure the fuzzy blue numbers said 3:06.
"Who the fuck is calling me at 3:00 on a Saturday morning?" I thought. "Oh, wait... that's not my clock... that's not my phone either. This isn't my place. Where the hell am I?"
The phone finally stopped ringing. I sighed in bliss at the sound of nothing and snuggled back beneath the covers. I'd worry about whose bed I was in later. Just as I got comfortable and could feel the lure of sleep fall over me, I heard something another noise. It wasn't as loud as the phone, but it wasn't silence either, which was the only thing I really wanted to hear right then. I listened as the high-pitched beeping continued. Even in my condition, I recognized the muffled tune as Habanera from opera, Carmen.
"I love that song," I thought. "My cell phone plays that tune... wait... I think that IS my cell phone."
I looked around and saw the tiny red light flashing like a beacon in a sea of clothes. I reached for it, trying to stay under the covers as much as possible. I grabbed it and fumbled with the buttons, which were way too small to read in my condition.
"Hello?" I grunted.
"Batista, this is Larry. Did I wake you?"
"Why would I be asleep at 3:00 on a Saturday?"
"True. Well I'm glad I got a hold of you. I'm sending you and Jake to Montana to do a story on Powder Rock Ranch."
"You mean the ranch we've been begging you to let us do a story on for the past eight months?"
"Yeah, that's the one. I'm still not keen on the idea, but Adam seems to think it's a winner, so it looks like you two get to go."
"When do we leave?"
"11:00."
"11:00?! That's less than eight hours from now. How the hell are we supposed to get packed and to the airport that quick?"
"You're going to a ranch for God's sake! Grab some jeans, a few plaid shirts, and your camera then get your ass on the plane."
"Right."
"Oh, by the way, I tried to call Jake at home a few minutes ago, but he didn't answer. Do you know where he is?"
I looked at the body curled up beside me and suddenly realized where I was. "I think I can get a hold of him," I answered. "Mm hmm, sure Larry... I'll tell him. Yeah... okay... bye."
I turned my phone off and burrowed back beneath the covers. Jake - the warm body lying next to me - rolled over and snuggled up behind me, his breath ripe with the scent of tequila. I sighed. "We really needed to stop hooking up like this," I thought then settled into his warm embrace.
"Who was that?" he grumbled.
"Larry... he's sending us to Powder Rock."
"Sweet," he replied - it was his new hot phrase.
I closed my eyes and tried to make the throbbing in my head go away so I could get a couple more hours of sleep before we had to go to the airport.
"Hey Paulie?" Jake mumbled.
"Yeah Jake?"
"Did we, um, you know, do the deed?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Was it good?"
"Probably."
"Sweet," he said again then buried his face between my shoulder blades and went back to sleep. As soon as my head stopped pounding, I dozed off too.
Of course, we woke up late and had to rush to the airport. We missed our original flight and, after several lengthy and heated discussions with a couple of airline reps, we managed to get on a later flight. The plane was crowded, the food sucked, there was a child crying in my ear for at least two hours straight, and I still had a hangover. All hopes of getting more sleep during the flight were gone. Jake, however, was out like a light the minute the wheels left the ground. I hate how he can do that!
By the time we arrived at Powder Rock, we had just enough time to sign in, drop our bags off in our room, and run over to the lodge for orientation. Jake was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to go; I was sleepy, achy, and grumpy. The trip was originally my idea but, so far, I wasn't having any fun.
We were the last ones to be seated. There were 25 or so other people already in the large lounge area and four guys standing by the fireplace in the front. Jake and I grabbed seats on one of the sofas near the back of the room just as the oldest of the four men began to address the group.
"Welcome to Powder Rock, gentlemen. My name is Cecil. I'm the owner of this here ranch. Over there are my cattle herders Jared, Wyatt and Tanner. They'll be the ones teaching you how to be cowboys. They may look a little ornery, but you couldn't be in more caring and capable hands. Now, let me take a minute to explain..."
I was too tired to concentrate on what Cecil was saying. His words droned on in the back of my head while I turned my attention to the cattle herders standing beside him. One look at them and my mood did a complete 180; I was suddenly feeling MUCH better. Like their names suggested, Jared, Wyatt and Tanner were the epitome of the classic cowboy image - tough, rugged, and extremely handsome. They were all very solid, powerful men who looked like they knew how to handle a steed. Like I've said before, big, muscular men aren't usually my type, but there are exceptions to every rule and I'd let any of those cowboys wrangle me, saddle me, and ride me all day if they were so inclined.
Out of the three, Wyatt was the one who really put a lump in my britches. He was one sexy fucker! By my guesstimate, Wyatt was a shy under six-feet-tall and weighed about two-hundred-thirty-odd pounds, making him the shortest and beefiest of them. His red plaid shirt - which could have wrapped around me a couple of times - struggled to contain his massive tits and bulging biceps. He had the same problem with his jeans. Somehow he'd managed to squeeze his tree-trunk-sized thighs into those pants but I was convinced he'd burst of if he sneezed too hard. The crotch of his jeans looked pretty well stuffed too. I eyed the faded button-fly for a while, trying to imagine what was trapped behind it that could make a bulge that big. He reached down to adjust the massive lump and I thought I'd been caught eyeing his goods.
I quickly diverted my stare then looked back to see if he had been watching me. Fortunately, he was listening intently to Cecil's speech - like I should have been doing - and hadn't noticed my lascivious stares. I thought I'd better play it safe and keep my gaze above his large silver buckle, which still gave me plenty of territory to cover. He was a handsome man with beautiful leathery skin that had been darkened to a golden brown by long days in the sun. He looked a little older than the other wranglers - in his 40's by my guess. Time and wisdom had silvered his dark brown hair around the temples and there were even flecks of gray in the thick carpet of stubble on his face. The muscles in his jaw rippled as he chewed on a piece of straw. I licked my chops and imagined that powerful jaw wrapped around my straw.
"...So right now, the fellas are gonna call out the names of the guys in their groups. Then they'll tell you about your first assignment tomorrow. After that, I'd suggest y'all get some sleep 'cuz we like to get things done before the sun comes up 'round here."
Tanner, the sexy blond, was the first to step up and call out his list. "Kyle, Peter, George..." Then Jared, the tall redhead, was next to read the names on his list. "Rob, Mark, Jake..." Finally, Wyatt got up to call up his group. "Kevin, John Paul..."
I heard my name dragging across his tongue with that sexy drawl and I was in heaven. I was a little disappointed that Jake and I wouldn't be in the same group. Then I looked at Wyatt again and had a feeling I'd get over it.
Everyone splintered off into his respective group. I politely shoved my way to the front of the other guys in my group... you know, to make sure I could hear everything Wyatt had to say - I didn't want to miss a thing. He told us to meet him in the stables in the morning. We were going to spend the first day picking out our horses and learning how to saddle, ride and care for them. If we were quick studies and time permitted, he said that he might even take us on a short cattle drive. Then, mirroring Cecil's earlier sentiment, he advised us to get lots of sleep, because we were going to have a long, hard day ahead of us.
He bid us goodnight and we split up to go back to our rooms. Jake stayed behind to talk to the staff and some of the guests. After the day I'd had, all I wanted to do was hop in the bed and get a good night's sleep. I stripped out of my clothes, slithered beneath the blankets, and crashed. I slept hard; I didn't even hear Jake come in and didn't move an inch until I was cruelly awakened by a chorus of cowbells and yelling.
"What is this - the fucking army?" I moaned to myself.
I looked over to see if Jake was as disturbed the cacophony as I was, but he was already awake and dressed. He was really starting to annoy me; usually I couldn't drag his lazy ass out of bed, now, all of a sudden, he's up before the crack of dawn and ready to start the day. I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom to grab a shower.
"Hey Jake, the shower's not working!" I yelled out to him.
"Oh yeah... I forgot to tell you. They're having problems with the plumbing or something... you're going to have to use the one outside."
"An outdoor shower? You've got to be kidding! Why the hell would I want to take a shower outside?"
"Aw! Come on, Paulie; where's your sense of adventure? This trip IS supposed to be about roughing it, isn't it? Try it, you might actually like it."
"I don't mind roughing it, but I have my standards. Besides, when did you turn into Davey-fucking-Crockett?"
"I grew up on a ranch. I'm used to this kinda shit."
"You grew up on a ranch?!" Jake nodded his head like it was common knowledge; it was my first time ever hearing such information, and I thought I knew just about everything there was to know about him. "So there's a roughneck cowboy beneath that pretty-boy exterior."
"Yep," he said proudly, hooking his thumbs in his belt and showing off his custom-made, pewter belt buckle that featured a raging bull and the words "North Bend Ranch, Oklahoma."
"You're full of surprises, my friend," I said.
He flashed a wicked grin. "Enough chewing the fat, you'd better get ready; breakfast will be served in 45 minutes."
Jake told me where I could find the shower stall. I grabbed a towel then made the short trek to a small wooden shed behind the lodge. Looking at it made me even less thrilled by the prospect of showering outside, but I figured it couldn't be that bad. The worst part, it seemed, would be the wait. By the time I got there, the line was at least eight or nine people deep. There was no way I'd be able to get showered and dressed in time for breakfast. I hadn't eaten a decent meal in 36 hours - I was not about to miss out on that one. Fortunately, the line moved quickly and in about 20 minutes, it was my turn.
I briefly inspected the four-foot-by-four-foot enclosure. It wasn't as old and dilapidated as I'd expected; in fact, it was very well maintained. It didn't have a ceiling or a door to speak of but, at the time, I was the only one there, so it didn't really bother me. Besides, I'd long outgrown being ashamed of my body - it was a good one I had no problems showing it to the world. The cement floor and cedar walls looked like they'd been recently redone and the plumbing looked brand new. The shower had one of those sprinkler can showerheads with the large round face. I gave the cross-knob, porcelain faucets a good turn and was rewarded with a powerful and refreshing cascade of hot water. Despite my reluctance to the concept, I was immediately enthralled. There was something exhilarating about showering outdoors that morning. I can't really explain it. Perhaps it was the coolness of the mountain air against my hot, moist skin; or maybe it was the decadence being naked outside. Whatever it was, I loved it. I could have stayed in there for hours, but I knew I only had a few more minutes.
After I finished my shower, I strolled back to the room and got dressed. Jake had that I-told-you-so smirk on his face and I was forced to admit I'd been wrong about the situation. I got dressed and we walked to the dining hall for breakfast. I wolfed down enough pancakes, bacon, and eggs to feed a few men my size and washed it down with a potent cup of coffee - wrangler style. I was rested, clean, gorged, caffeinated, and ready to go.
I met Wyatt and the rest of my group at the stables where we picked out our horses. I picked out a particularly feisty, chestnut-colored stallion by the name of Thunderclap. I liked his energy and thought he'd be great to herd cattle with.
"Thunderclap can be pretty ornery," Wyatt warned.
"I've handled my share of steed," I replied, "I'm sure I can handle him too."
Wyatt flashed a bright, toothy grin and handed me my saddle. I saddled and mounted the powerful steed. He bucked and neighed a few times, but eventually settled down. A few of the guys in my group had never even seen a horse so, while they were busy learning how to saddle and ride, Thunderclap and I took a quick trot around the grounds. When I returned, everyone was saddled up, mounted and ready to go.
"Alright fellas," Wyatt yelled out, "We're not going to herd any cattle today but we are going to take a little ride over to the pasture where we'll be herding them tomorrow. After that, we're going to do some chores back at the barn."
With that, we were off to the large southern pasture just beyond the two old oak trees. I took the opportunity to snap a few pictures of the ranch, my group members and, of course, our fearless and gorgeous leader. The camera loved Wyatt and he loved it too. Whenever I turned my lens on him, he'd stop and pose - looking off into the distance with an austere and pensive expression on his face, the shadow of his faded, suede cowboy hat almost completely the upper half of his rugged face. Once he removed the hat altogether and I captured him as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his mighty arm. Perfect pose, perfect composition, perfect model. I'd already decided to keep that shot for my private collection.
After our ride, we did some serious work. There were new cows being added to the herd and they needed to be branded and tagged. It was our job to escort the cows to the branding station then take them out to the field to join the rest of the herd. I hated everything about the job. I understood the need for branding the cows, but I still thought it was a barbaric practice. I flinched every time I heard the sound of the hot iron searing the poor animal's flesh and the pained cry of the wounded beast. The whole process took hours to complete. By the time we were done, I was mentally and physically exhausted. I got out of there as fast I could.
We all sat down for dinner. We could sit anywhere we wanted, but everyone stayed with their group except Jake. He decided to sit with my group because he thought his wrangler, Jared, was a prick. He told me about his boring day of escorting cows to and from vet exams - one of his least favorite chores as a child growing up on his family's ranch.
"You gonna eat that?" he asked, noticing I had hardly touched my steak. I pushed my plate over to him and watched in disgust as he demolished the slab of beef.
After dinner, Cecil invited everyone to the lounge for storytelling. I'm sure he was a great storyteller, but I wasn't much in the mood. I needed to unwind. "A nice outdoor shower should do the trick," I thought. Even though the shed had light fixtures for nighttime bathing, the sun was just beginning to set, so there was still a good deal of daylight left. It would be cool to splash around outdoors, naked, in the warm amber glow of the setting sun. I hurried off to my room to get undressed and grab my towel then ran out to the little four-by-four cedar shed.
I rounded the corner and walked into the stall only to find that it was already occupied. It seemed that Wyatt had the same idea and had beaten me to it. He had just dropped his towel and was about to turn on the water when I bumped into him.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't think anyone would be out here," I said, quickly diverting my eyes despite my burning desire to gaze upon his beefy naked body.
"Neither did I," he replied with a warm smile.
"I'll come back later," I said, stepping out of the shower and turning around to go back to my room.
"I won't be long. Why don't you stay out here and wait. I could use the company." Wyatt turned on the shower and I heard the soothing sounds of the hot water spraying out.
"I'll just stand over here and wait," I said, picking a spot where I wouldn't be tempted to look at him.
I heard him splashing beneath the spray, getting that hairy body all wet. Having just a split-second image to work with, I could only imagine how he looked with his thick, brown coat shining with moisture and lying flat against the hills and valleys of his chest and stomach. Just the thought of the hot water dripping down his cock - which had to be massive - made my own dick plump up.
"Did you get some good shots?" he asked, snapping me out of my dream.
"Yeah, I did. It's very beautiful out here... a lot to see and do."
"Did you get some good shots of me? Do you think I'll be in the magazine?"
"How'd you know I worked for a magazine?"
"Your roommate told us last night. Was it supposed to be a secret?"
"No, not really. It's just that people sometimes don't act normal when they know you're taking their picture for an article."
"I hammed it up too much today, didn't I?"
"A little... but don't worry; I got some excellent candid shots of you. I'm sure your mug will show up in the article. You might even make the cover."
"No way!"
"It's possible," I answered.
"Woo wee! I can't believe I'm gonna be in a magazine!"
Wyatt fell silent as he continued his shower and contemplated his impending stardom.
"John Paul?" he called out.
"Yeah?"
"You think you could do me a big favor?"
"Sure. What is it?"
"Do you think you could come scrub my back?" I stood there, speechless, trying to wrap my mind around the question he'd just asked. Surely it was my overactive imagination playing tricks on me. Surely that big, strapping, manly cowboy didn't ask me to scrub his back.
"I know it sounds like a strange request, but I left my brush in my room and I can't quite reach without it."
"W-why don't I just go get your brush."
"Nah, that'll take too long." He poked his head around the corner and held out the bar of soap. "C'mon... it's no big deal. It's just us fellas out here and we gotta take care of each other."
He held up the bar of soap and again shot me a pleading stare. I grabbed the soap from his hand and stood there for a moment. This situation had disaster written all over it. I hadn't picked up any gay vibes from him all day; I was 99.99997% sure that this massively muscular dude was straight. There was no question as to how my dick was going to respond once I stepped into that shower with him - I hadn't even made a move towards the open stall and it was already throbbing with anticipation. Put one straight, macho guy with big hulking muscles in a shower with another not-so-straight guy with a big hulking hard-on and you get trouble. I knew it was a bad idea but, as usual, my lust got the best of me. Before he could plead one more time, my towel was on the ground and I squeezed into the tiny shower with the sexy bronco.
Wyatt had his back turned to me, waiting for me to soap him up. My dick was rock hard! I'd never seen so many muscles on one man before. Wyatt's back literally rippled every time he moved. And he had no tan lines. His incredibly broad back and shoulders were the same shade of cinnamon brown as his sun-kissed face. Even his ass was nice and toasty brown.
I churned up a good lather and pressed my hands against his body. It was solid like marble - if not from the incredible amount of heat radiating from his skin, I would have sworn he was a statue. Uh uh! That was 100% solid, Montana beef I had my hands on.
My hands slowly worked the lather across his expansive shoulders. Wyatt let out a deep moan - almost a growl.
"That's definitely better than a brush," he whispered as my hands caressed his massive traps then worked their way to his bulky delts. (Can you tell someone's been paying attention to his weight trainer?)
I worked my fingers into his shoulders and felt the tension melt away. He continued to hum and moan in satisfaction. I doubted he'd be so pleased if he knew my dick was pointing straight at his firm ass.
"Go a little lower," he muttered. So I did. I slid my hands down his sides and across to the small of his back, leaving behind a thin trail of soapsuds. For me, it had stopped being a matter of washing his back the minute I put my hands on him. It was all about feeling that man's rock hard body in my hands. I no longer knew nor cared what he was getting out of it.
"A little lower," he said. My fingers inched towards his firm, round ass, yet he continued to urge, "A little lower." He wasn't satisfied until I had those two ripe globes of flesh held securely in my mitts. I gave them a good squeeze and Wyatt moaned again. So I squeezed them harder. He seemed to like that too. I ran my hands all over the fleshy bundles getting them good and soapy. So intent was I on manhandling his firm buttocks that I did the one thing that all men are warned not to do: I dropped the soap.
Surprisingly, Wyatt was quick to bend over and pick it up. In doing so, his thigh backed into my painfully erect penis. If I hadn't been so terrified and humiliated, I might have actually cum all over his leg. Wyatt calmly picked up the soap and stood up. He slowly turned around and handed it to me, his eyes fixed squarely on mine.
"You dropped this," he said.
My cock was pressing against his pelvic bone, but he didn't budge. He didn't seem bothered, threatened or even aware of its presence, but I knew he knew it was there.
"I-I can explain," I stammered, trying to buy time to craft a believable lie.
"No need to explain," he said with a shrug. "They have a mind of their own sometimes," he explained then looked down at the narrow space between our hips.
I looked down too, and saw his cock jumping and twitching to life. It was my first time seeing it and under other circumstances I may have really enjoyed the view but, as it were, I didn't want to stare too long until I was sure I wasn't getting my signals crossed. I looked back up and he was staring me straight in the eye again. I saw nothing in his eyes. There was neither lust nor disgust in his expression, just the usual calm, commanding, squinty-eyed stare.
"The shower's all yours now," he said, pulling his towel from over the shower wall. He wrapped it around his waist and stepped out of the water closet. "Thanks for the back scrub," he said over his shoulder. "I owe you one."
As soon as Wyatt turned the corner, I wrapped my hand around my swollen cock and pumped a hugest fucking load I'd had in quite some time. It splattered all over the damp cedar walls, not to mention my hand, forearm, stomach, and chest. Once I'd regained my composure, I rinsed my sticky scum off the shower walls finished my shower.
I crept back into the lodge, hoping that everyone was still at story time and I could sneak by unnoticed. I couldn't shake the feeling that if someone saw me, they would figure out where I'd been and what I'd done. I made it all the way back to the room and slipped inside. Jake was there, tucked into bed, reading one of the ranch's brochures.
"Looking for material to steal for your article?" I asked.
"Ha ha, very funny. Where the hell have you been?"
"I was outside taking a shower."
"Outside? You know they fixed the plumbing, don't you?"
"Yeah, I know," I said as I started to dry off.
"Could it be that the cultured and pampered John Paul actually enjoys taking a shower outside?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah! Okay, so I admit I kinda dig the idea of showering outside."
"And?"
I sighed. I hated saying it, but it had to be done. "And, you were right. You are soooo wise. I should listen to you more often."
"Damn right," he said then turned off the light beside his bed and curled up beneath the covers. "Good night, Paulie."
"Good night, Jake."
I finished drying off, turned off the rest of the lights and slipped into my bed. I didn't think I'd be able to fall asleep with images of Wyatt's naked ass floating through my head but, fortunately, unconsciousness came quickly.
I woke up the next morning before Jake, before the ringing cowbells and almost before the sun. I slid out of bed, grabbed a towel and jaunted off to the shower. Deep down, I'd hoped to find Wyatt there, waiting for me to soap up his back again. But, he wasn't there. He had been there, though. The walls were still damp and he'd left a note in the soap holder. How bold! How cool!
It read: "Really could have used your help again this morning. Maybe I'll catch you tonight. -Wyatt."
A wily grin spread across my lips. "You'll definitely catch me tonight," I said, stepping into the shower and turning on the hot spray. I pumped out another load to the thought putting my hands all over Wyatt's beefy body.
Out in the field, Wyatt was his normal, focused self. He made no indications of our previous or impending encounters as we drove the herd down to the river. Even while the group enjoyed a little downtime while the cows drank and grazed, he never once threw me a knowing glance or a coy smile. I was beginning to think maybe it was all a sick game he was playing.
We herded the cattle back to the ranch and stabled our horses. The rest of my group hurried off to get washed up for dinner; Wyatt asked me to stay behind and hang the saddles. We made quick work of the chore. Together we did it in about three minutes; alone, Wyatt could have easily done it in two. He didn't need my help, I realized - there was another reason he'd asked me to stay. I handed him the last saddle which he gingerly hung on the wall.
"Did you get my note?" he asked as he turned and walked towards the stable door.
I chased after him. "Yeah, I got it."
"Good," he said, stopping and turning to look me dead in the eye. His stare was intense as usual. "I'm really dirty tonight... I can use all the help I can get."
He cracked a faint smile before turning on his heels again and making his way back to the lodge.
At dinner, Wyatt made sure to sit next to me - not too close to raise suspicion, but close enough that his leg could occasionally and accidentally brush against mine. All the while, we tried to contain the growing excitement over our upcoming rendezvous. I could feel the sexual tension building and knew for sure that someone would pick up on it - especially Jake, but we made it through the meal without so much as a sideways glance from the other guys sitting at our table.
Jared's guitar playing was the featured entertainment for that evening. I'd heard rumors about his lack of skill, but he could have played like fucking Hendrix or Santana for all I cared - I had another, more pressing engagement to attend. Cecil started herding the group into the lounge. I noticed Wyatt had already made his getaway and I wasn't too far behind him.
I ran to my room, grabbed my towel, and raced outside. The rosy glow of the setting sun had faded from the horizon, leaving behind a star-speckled and moonless sky. In the midst of the darkness, the shower stood boldly lighted, guiding me to it like a beacon in the harbor. As I got closer, I could hear the water running and my heart started to pound in my chest.
I turned the corner and poked my head through the opening. I was happy to see Wyatt standing beneath the steamy spray, wielding the soap in one hand, hefty equipment in the other, and a grin on his chiseled face.
Now that I knew it was safe to do so, I took the opportunity to thoroughly examine his body. He was bigger and hairier than I could have ever imagined. A dense coat of wet, brown fur clung to the expanse of his chest, making his bulging tits look like grass-covered hills. Much like the hair on his head, his body coat was peppered with gray. His incredible fleece thinned out as it rippled over his tight abs, got thicker just below his navel, and blossomed into a very dense but neatly trimmed bush at the base of his cock. And since we're on the subject, Wyatt's dick was the plumpest, juiciest slab of beef I'd had the pleasure of feasting my eyes on ever. It wasn't exceptionally long - maybe six or seven inches once I got it hard - but, even hanging partially limp from the patch of curly brown pubes, it was easily six inches in circumference. I'd seen soda bottles thinner than that wrangler's branding iron and I'd seen bulls with smaller nuts than the two eggs dangling between his meaty thighs. I could only imagine what it would be like to be fucked by him - after he ripped me apart with his ramrod, he'd nearly drown me with his spunk. I wasn't sure if I was man enough to handle him... but I was willing to try.
"Think you can do me up proper?" he asked, holding out a brand new, family-size bar of soap.
I let my towel fall off my hips and joined Wyatt beneath the hot cascade. I took the soap from his hand and rubbed it between my hands. My sudsy hands spread across his mighty pecs and lingered in the thick forest of hair, almost losing my fingers in the dense growth. Wyatt's chest expanded to an unbelievable size as he drew in a deep breath.
"Yeah, that feels mighty good," he commended.
My fingers worked their way through the curly tangle of hair surrounding the base of Wyatt's thick organ. I felt it jump at my gentle touch and, within seconds, it was swollen to its limit and poking me in my thigh. I circumvented it and went straight for his huge, drooping nuts.
Wyatt let out a throaty sigh as my slippery hand soaped up his bull nuts. He moved closer to me so that he could wrap his powerful arm around my waist and draw me into a kiss. He was eager... and a little rough. His tongue forced its way down my throat - I almost choked on it. He was relentless and unyielding. I squeezed hard on his balls to make him gasp, just so I could come up for air.
"Slow down, cowboy," I gasped.
"Sorry," he murmured. "It's been so long since I've been with another man and, well, you're just so sexy. I couldn't help myself."
Country bumpkin or not, he knew what to say to make a boy feel special. I released his hairy sac from my tight grip and wrapped my fingers around the girth of his manhood. I felt the blood rushing through the meandering network of veins that ran the length of his cock. I squeezed it firmly and stroked it a few times. Wyatt tightened his grip on me and gently kissed up my neck to my ear.
"Oh yeah, city boy... mighty fine," he whispered to me. He showered my chin and neck with kisses while I continued to stroke his fat pecker.
My body was wet enough to slip out his powerful bear hug. Not that I wanted to escape his warm, loving embrace, but I had my mind - and mouth - set on something else. I dropped to my knees and held that humongous dick to my lips. While I built up the nerve to tackle that monster, I swooped down below to give his sagging balls a little oral attention. I opened my lips and sucked them in. Streams of soapy hot water poured down his body and into my slurping mouth - the bitter taste of Irish Spring mingled with the salty flavor of his nuts. And his cock throbbed and pulsed above my nose, begging me to suck it.
I let Wyatt's gonads tumble out of my mouth and began to kiss, lick, and suck my way to the tip of his tool. Wyatt looked down at me with wide-eyed excitement and anticipation. As infrequent as it was for him to feel the touch of another man, I imagined it was even rarer for him to feel the touch of another man's mouth on his huge horse dick. It was my intent to help him make up for lost time.
I took a deep breath, opened my mouth and swallowed up his thick prick. I took as much of him as I could, but there was no way that fat prong was going to fit down my throat. My jaw was already aching and it was hard to breath; I slowly drew him out of my craw. I looked up to see Wyatt staring back at me, slack-jawed and wordless. I sucked on the dripping red tip and he finally blinked. I sucked on it again and heard him moan. I worked his dick back into my mouth and finally heard him speak, "Oh fffffuck!"
I slurped on his pole and I swear I heard him whimper. There's nothing more arousing than hearing a big, muscle man whine like a baby while you're giving him the best head of his life. Wyatt put his paw on the back of my head and slowly coaxed his cock in and out of my mouth. I kneeled before him and let him feed me his sirloin tip.
I felt his nuts quiver against my chin and I knew he was about to blow. It would have been nice to feel his seed washing down my throat, but I wanted him to fuck me first. I had to feel that huge cock punching through my guts. The soap was still tightly clutched in my hand. I rubbed the striated emerald green bar up and down his cock until it was coated with a thick layer of lime green foam. When I reached back to spread the lather between my ass cheeks, Wyatt began to understand what was about to happen and I swear his dick throbbed and grew just a little thicker.
"You want me to fuck you," he asked.
"That's the plan," I said, standing up and turning my back to him.
"Oh no," he said then spun me around to face him. "I want to see your pretty little face when you take my dick up your ass."
He wrapped one arm around my waist and hoisted me in the air. I locked my legs around him and felt his cock brushing against my hole. He fumbled with his dick for a minute until the tip was firmly planted at the entrance. Wyatt looked into my eyes, I nodded, and he lowered me onto his pole.
I bit my lip and suppressed a scream as his thick cock popped my tight cork. It hurt like hell; I won't even try to deny it. Nothing that big had ever passed through my gates. He asked me if he should pull out, but I shook my head and told him to press on... slowly!
Inch by excruciating inch, his donkey dick burrowed into my ass. I rested my head on his shoulder and waited for him to bottom out. After what seemed like an eternity, the coarse hairs blanketing his scrotum tickled my soft butt, finalizing his slow, painful claiming of my ass. Buried deep within me, his dick twitched and flexed and hit that spot hidden deep within every man. The spot that turns reluctance into willingness, denial into consent, and pain into pleasure.
I moaned into his neck and squeezed his cock with my tightly stretched ass. He moaned in response and jabbed his dick further into me.
"Fuck me, Wyatt," I whispered in his ear. "Show me how they do it up here in the mountains."
"Saddle up," he said and grabbed my ass with his large, powerful hands.
He lifted me up and his dick slid out of my chute. Then he let my hips drop and his cock rammed back into my tight, murky depths.
"Uunnnnggghh!!" I wailed.
He lifted me off and onto his cock a few more times, letting my bunghole really get used to being filled by such a large cock. Once he was sure I was opened up enough, he leaned me against and started to REALLY fuck me. He pounded me within an inch of my life then fucked me some more. With my back pressed into the cedar wall, all I could do was take it - and I did so, very willingly.
We locked in a passionate kiss as he rammed me. Our bodies were pressed tightly together; my own swollen dick lay sandwiched between our stomachs. With every thrust, the soft down on his stomach stroked the underside of my cock. Between the sensation of his dick reaming me out and his rippling abs caressing my prod, it wasn't long before I was ready to explode. By the looks of his tight-eyed grimace, it appeared that he was close to the edge too.
His hands clamped onto my hips with his vice-like grip. At the very last moment, he pulled out and sprayed his cowboy spunk all over me. Feeling his hot scum splattering on my lips and chin was all it took to make me cum too. When we were both done spewing our wad, I was completely covered in jizz. It was all over my chest, stomach and crotch and a few overzealous shots landed in my hair.
He let me go; I unlocked my leg hold on him and landed precariously on my wobbly legs. I didn't think I'd be able to walk straight for weeks and horseback riding seemed out of the question.
We cleaned up, washing away all evidence of our lovemaking, and occasionally exchanging longing glances and passionate kisses. We kissed each other one last time, outside the shower with our towels wrapped loosely around our waist, and then parted ways for the night. Jake was already asleep when I got back to the room, so I quietly crawled into bed and fell into a deep, blissful slumber.
I woke up the next morning feeling oddly invigorated. My ass was a little tender, but I felt great otherwise. Even Jake noticed the difference, although he didn't pressure me into telling him the cause. I think he had his suspicions. I wolfed down breakfast so I could get out to the stables before the rest of the group. I was hoping to find Wyatt there; I wanted a little private time with him before he had to put on his game face.
I found him in the barn by the stables, moving bales of hay. My cock lashed out at the sight of him shirtless and sweaty and his muscles bulging from the strenuous work. I resisted my urge to jump him, realizing our time alone might soon be interrupted.
"Good morning," I said.
He looked up and smiled. "Good morning."
"Did you sleep well?"
"Like a baby. You?"
I smiled and blushed. "I was knocked out."
Wyatt tossed the last bale of hay neatly on top of the pile then walked towards me.
"Will I get to see you again, tonight?" I asked.
"I don't think so," he answered. "I've got to move the hay up in the loft this evening... it might take me all night."
I was disappointed; he had to have seen it in my face.
"I could use some help, though," he added. "Two people would make the job go a little faster... and the hayloft is a cool place to... hang out."
Yeah, you guessed it. I willingly offered my assistance and later that night, after everyone had stabled their horses and gone in to eat, Wyatt and I climbed up to the hayloft to get to work. Needless to say, we didn't get a lot of work done, but there was a whole lot of horsing around.
Okay, so that was a bad joke. Sue me!