by Colbie Kay
"It is my debt, Hanger. Whether you believe it or not, it is, and she left me to take care of it." With that, I get up and storm out of his office.
Finding Chayser at the bar with a beer in hand, I sit on the barstool next to him. "Pretty Boy, can I get a shot of Kinky Blue, please?" I request, desperate for the shot the cute Italian prospect will deliver.
He nods. "Coming right up, Shug,”
Turning my attention to Chayser, I ask, "How's your night going?"
"Good. How was work?" He gives me that seductive, sexy smile. Chayser is a good-looking guy with long blond dreadlocks, hazel eyes, and a toned body. If I’m honest, he’s sexy as hell, but I can’t bring myself to feel any type of way for him besides as a friend. Maybe I’m holding up my walls because I know there would never be anything more.
"It was good. A slow night, but good all the same." I give a genuine smile this time, taking pride in the fact that I have a real job—an actual paying job.
After a few more shots and drinks, Chayser says, "You ready to do this, Shug?"
"Yeah, let's go." He takes my hand, helping me off the barstool, leading me to where the bedrooms are. Once inside, I inquire, "What'll it be tonight?"
His arm snakes around my waist, tugging me closer. His mouth moves from my cheek to my ear. "Shug, slow the fuck down. Stop treating this like it’s a fuckin’ job. I like being with you.”
My hands reach for the button on his jeans before tears can spring forth in my eyes. Once I’ve gotten his pants and boxer briefs around his ankles, I push against his chest, and Chayser falls onto his mattress.
I kneel between his tight muscled thighs. His eyes are glued to mine as his tongue skims across his wet lips. I begin to stroke my hand up and down along his hard length. Leaning forward, my tongue lightly touches the tip of his cock where precum is beading. Bursts of his salty flavor invade my taste buds, and I open my mouth wide, taking him in until he touches the back of my throat. I learned long ago how to control my gag reflex. Not only is he long, he’s thick, too, filling my mouth while the protruding veins in his dick rub against my tongue. Coming back up to the top, I suck on his tip. Slowly, I push down, swallowing, until he hits the back of my throat again. After a few bobs, I release him, only to flick my tongue against his slit in a fast motion, then swirl it around the head. He growls, and I’m pretty sure he’s frustrated with my teasing. I quickly begin blowing him again, performing the job I’d been selected to do.
Chayser’s hand finds my hair, tangling his fingers through it, and directing me to give him what he wants. Sucking him hard, I go down as far as I can. His fist tightens in my hair as he makes me move faster, deeper. Tears well in my eyes. I want to gag, but I don’t. His deep rumbling sounds of pleasure become louder. Chayser’s hips thrust upwards as he pushes my head down, fucking my mouth as if he’s desperate to find the release he seeks.
I allow him to take the lead, driving himself closer and closer. If I let him have control, it will make this shit go a whole lot faster. I position one hand on his thigh, digging my nails into his flesh while the other moves to his balls. I massage him before taking them into my hand and pulling down tightly. He loves it when I do that. I feel him grow impossibly harder inside my mouth.
He groans breathlessly, "I'm about to come." And that's my cue. I pull my mouth away, replacing it with my hand, pumping him a few more times until he growls, "Fuck!" His hot cum shoots out, filling my hand, but I keep stroking until he falls back on the bed and covers his eyes with one arm.
Sitting back on my heels with my hand full of Chayser’s cum, I stare at him in his sated position. I wonder what it’s like to feel good during sex or sexual acts. I wonder what it’s like to feel that sated feeling. Personally, I’ve never felt it. These guys don’t turn me on, and sex with them isn’t something I enjoy. I’m always in my head during, and afterward…well, they’re either rushing me out, or I’m running for the door. I don’t even think I’ve ever had an orgasm, always focused on getting it over with. How much longer will it take?
Chayser releases a deep breath. "Shit, Shug, that was good." His voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I stand from the floor to step over to his nightstand.
I laugh a real laugh. "Isn't it always?" I ask as I take a Kleenex and wipe off my hand.
"Yeah." His grin shines brightly. "Sit down." I do as he demands, dropping beside him, my hands fidget with the tissue in my lap. "Let me return the favor."
Keeping my head down, I adamantly shake it. “That’s not part of the deal, and you know it.”
"Shug, look at me." I lift my gaze to meet his. "Why are you here?"
"Not your business, Chayser." Jumping from the bed, I open the door and slam it behind me. I storm toward my room, grumbling all the way.
Grateful that my room has a private bathroom, I immediately rush into it and turn the water on in the shower, allowing the small space fill with steam before I step inside. I try to wash off the dirty feeling inside of me that never goes away, the one I’m never free from. I drop to the shower floor as tears begin to cascade down my cheeks, and gut-wrenching sobs are silenced by the sound of falling water.
I don't know why Chayser would even ask me to allow him to pleasure me. I have restrictions, and all of the guys are aware of them: I don't kiss, I don't let them go down on me, they don't come in my mouth, and they always use condoms. It’s my way of holding onto something for myself and staying somewhat in charge. Kissing is intimate, and so is letting someone’s face into my most private place.
I want some type of control in this life I live. Claiming these parts of myself is my way of doing that. I realize it may not make sense to anyone else, but it makes sense to me. Yes, I’m a whore, but I’m also a twenty-two-year-old woman who has never been kissed. Hopefully, it’ll happen one day, but I'm not holding my breath. Who could ever want me knowing what I am?
After I’ve scrubbed my skin raw in the scalding water and washed my hair, I dry off and slip into an old t-shirt. I try to sleep, but all I do is toss and turn.
I stand in line amongst the other bull riders, forty-five of the best in our profession. Each of us waits anxiously for our name to be called and to find out which bull we will go against tonight. If all goes well, I'll be one step closer to my goal. Making tonight it into the top ten, I'll be in the short circuit tomorrow night. Ever since I was a little boy, the only thing I’ve ever dreamed about is being number one in the PBR, Professional Bull Riders, Inc. Before this tour is finished, my dream will come true. I've worked too fucking hard for it not to.
The organizer calls my name, "Cody Sterling will be riding Double Barrel." My hand forms into a fist, and I give a little pump. Double Barrel is a tough son of a bitch, but I’m tougher. After the rest of the draws are announced, the line breaks up, and I head back to my hotel room.
For this round, we gathered at the arena early to hear our results, which were randomly picked by a computer. If I make it into the next round tomorrow, then I have to wait until right before the competition begins. The announcer will call my name, and I’ll draw my bull from the bowl of the trophy. It not only adds suspense for the riders but the audience as well.
"Who's your draw for tonight?" my best friend, more like a brother, Jake asks from the opposite bed in our room.
"Double Barrel." I can feel my face brighten with my smile.
"Good draw,” Jake states, messing with his phone.
"Thanks, man."
"Looks like you’ll have two good rides tonight, a bull and a bitch." He peers up at me with a shit-eating grin.
"You're an idiot.” I chuckle, shaking my head.
“Hey, it’s Friday night. You know there’s gonna be a celebration after, and all those lil’ bunnies waitin’ for their eight-seconds with you will make sure to show up.”
As I pull on my chaps and my Kevlar vest, staring into the mirror, I see Jake walk up behind me. “Are you ready for tonight?” His hands grip my shoulders, and our eyes meet in the reflec
tion. “It's a good draw, but ridin' Double Barrel is gonna be tough. You know that bull is a fuckin' beast." His southern drawl is thick as he voices his concerns.
I stare at him with unwavering confidence. "I got this. I'll get my eight-seconds in and get closer to that number one spot. You just worry about havin' my back out there."
Jake cocks an eyebrow, his arms crossing over his chest after I spin around to face him. "Don't I always? I don't doubt you'll get those eight-seconds, man. Just be careful. I don't wanna be the one to call your momma if somethin' goes wrong."
"It's a risk we take, you know that. Are you ready?" I shove all of my shit in my bag and set it by the door. Pulling my white Stetson down closer to my eyes, I drop down onto my bed and say a silent prayer.
"I’m fixin’ to get my face on. I’ll be ready after that." Jake snatches his costume off his bed and rushes into the bathroom.
Rumbling laughter fills the room. He knows I’m right. Bull riding is a dangerous sport that you risk your life doing, at the same time, it's one hell of a rush. The crowd keeps you pumped, the announcer gets your energy rushing, and mounting that bull gets your heart beating wildly. I live for this shit, just like my dad did.
Thirty minutes later, Jake emerges. “Let’s go, shithead.” I bite my lip to contain my grin. He’s dressed in his bright costume with his face done up just like a clown. Jake’s my right-hand man and my rodeo clown every night I ride. Honestly, I don’t think I could do it without him in there with me.
As I glance around the sold-out stadium, my pulse races. My heart thunders against my chest at the sound of cheering. Crowds of people are on the edge of their seats, watching and waiting to see what is going to happen.
"Cody, you're up next," my flank man tells me.
After he’s tied my rope to tie around Double Barrel’s flank, a few men help me ease down onto the bull. I check my helmet to make sure it’s fitted correctly, then grip the handle on the rope and give it a few good tugs. My gloved hand is securely in place, and my flank man pulls the rope tight against the bull, getting him ready. Tuning out the announcer, I take a couple of deep breaths and say another quiet prayer. I roll my shoulders and lift my left arm into the air. I'm ready. Let’s do this. I give the nod to the gateman. It opens, and Double Barrel takes off.
We cross the plane of the chute, and the clock starts ticking.
One-second, I count in my head as my body jerks around. Double Barrel bucks hard, trying to get me off his back, but I stay securely in place.
Two-seconds, the bull rides away from my hand, meaning he spins left. Double Barrel's back end comes up off the ground.
Three-seconds, he jerks to the right, making me slip to the left, but I recover, still holding strong.
Four, five, six, and seven-seconds, I hang on for dear life as my body is being thrown every which way.
It's almost over, and I've had an awesome fuckin' ride.
Eight-seconds, the sound of the buzzer slices through my concentration.
I let go of the rope and escape from the pissed off bull. Racing toward the audience, I jump onto the barrier before he can reach me. I sweep my gaze around the arena, watching as Jake and a couple other rodeo clowns distract the beast. They get Double Barrel back to the chute and lock him away before I hop down. The crowd goes crazy, screaming and clapping and stomping their feet. This is what I live for. My smile beams from ear to ear as the crowd chants my name, and I take a bow.
I anxiously wait for my score. "With a score of 85.3, Cody Sterling has made it to the final round. And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, our top ten contenders for the short circuit tomorrow night! With no casualties, we had a great show of rides. How about one more round of applause for these brave men and those bucking bulls? Come back tomorrow evening to watch the top ten!”
The announcer sounds off, and Jake runs up and grabs me around the waist, lifting me up. “That was fuckin' awesome, man! You made it!" he yells, shaking me. When he puts me down, we both laugh and give each other a brotherly hug.
"Thanks, man. You did awesome tonight, too," I tell him honestly. Jake has been doing the rodeo circuit right beside me since we were both eighteen. I'm the bull rider, and he's a rodeo clown, both equally dangerous.
"You ready to get out of here? The after-party is at some bar called Pint’s. I need to get this shit off my face first, though."
"Hell yeah, I'm ready." I need a cold beer to relax, plus, I want to see what kinda hot piece I can score tonight. The thrill of the ride is still coursing through my body.
As we are leaving, I stop to sign some autographs for kids who are hoping to be bull riders themselves one day, men who love the sport, and women wishing to be ridden later tonight by one of us top contenders. We finally make it to my black Chevy Silverado, and I start it up to head to our hotel first.
After cleaning up, we make our way through the confusing streets of Wichita, Kansas, and find the bar. I’m almost surprised we found it since the GPS took us on some wild goose chase. This city is fucking horrible to drive in.
I shut my truck off in the packed parking lot and hit the key fob to lock the doors as we step away. Pushing our way through the crowd, people pat me on the back and congratulate me on the way to the counter. It takes a bit, but we finally make it, and I whistle and wave for the bartender. Getting his attention, Jake and I both order longneck beers and two shots.
I throw some money down on the bar top after our drinks are set in front of us. Taking that first long pull, I hum and briefly close my eyes. It tastes fucking good in my dry mouth. I pick up the shot as I glance around the bar.
"There's a lot of buckle bunnies here tonight,” Jake states the obvious as if I can't see that for myself.
“Here’s to tonight.” I clink my shot glass with his and down the liquid poison. Buckle bunnies are what we like to call the women desperate to get fucked by one of the riders. Like us, most of them aren’t looking for anything but a good fuck. Occasionally, you'll run across the grade A clinger, who gets to thinking you're going to marry her. That's when you tumble in the sheets for the night, then sneak right on out of the room, or wherever you're at, before she wakes up and notices you’re gone. Never, and I mean never, give a girl your number because if you do, your ass is asking for trouble. "You see that cute lil' redhead lookin' this way?" I ask Jake before taking another long pull of my beer, letting the cold liquid slide down my throat.
"Yeah, I see her. She’s comin’ for you, man. She's lookin' like she's rapin' you with her eyes. One." He holds up one finger. "Two." Now, it's two fingers. "Three." His laugh bursts out because here she comes, sashaying toward us.
"Shut the fuck up." I chuckle as she stops next to us.
"Hey, guys. How's it going tonight?" She gives me a seductive smile.
"Good. You?" I return.
She runs her finger down my button up flannel. "Oh, I think it just got a whole lot better. Aren't you Cody Sterling?" she questions, batting her eyes, acting as if she doesn't already know who I am. That is what I don't understand about women. Why not say how it is? Why not say what you want? Don't play games.
"Let's cut to the chase here. Alright?" Her grin falls a fraction, but I go on, "You knew who I was before you came over here. I'm not really into carin’ what your name is. We're both lookin’ to have a good time, and that good time consists of getting' fucked. So, let's get to it." Jake makes a choking sound next to me, but my attention is fixated on the redhead. Something flashes across her face before the smile is back full-force, and she nods her head. Setting my beer on the counter, I grab her hand, and we stroll through the crowd until we find a closed door.
I slowly open the door and peek my head in, finding the light off. Feeling around on the wall, I locate the switch and flip it on. “This’ll work.” I pull her into the now lit office and lead her to the desk. Glancing at the wall opposite us, I notice the large mirror. Perfect. I grin to myself. I didn’t bother locking the door because as busy as the bar
is, I don’t expect anyone to come in here.
In one swift motion, I spin her to face the mirror, her back against my front. "Hold onto the desk and be quiet." Her hands grip the cherry wood tightly. Running my hands up her smooth thighs, I reach under her black mini skirt to find she’s not wearing any panties. She was looking to get laid tonight! My fingers slide over her already wet pussy.
Making quick work of getting my belt buckle undone, I rush to lower my wranglers and boxer briefs down to my boots. Pulling the condom out of my wallet, I rip the plastic open and roll it down my hard dick. There’s no need to take this slow. I waste no time lining my dick up to her entrance and swiftly thrust inside of her. Placing my hand on her back, I bend her over the desk farther, her hands slap against the wood of the desk, bracing herself for each hardened drive as I piston into her.
I watch her face in the mirror with each rough stroke I deliver. She looks as if she wants to scream out, but she’s gritting her teeth to keep quiet like I commanded.
I’m trying to make this quick, but this girl really isn't doing too much for me. My movements are restricted because my jeans are still pooled around my boots, but it’s more than that. I don’t know what it is, I only know something’s not working for me. Snaking one arm around her chest, I pull her upward. In the mirror, her facial expression tells me she’s enjoying this much more than I am. Her eyes are tightly closed, lips parted, and cheeks flushed.
She moans softly as I reach under the top of her dress to find one of her hard-pebbled nipples. Rolling the flesh between my fingers, I feel her walls begin to clench around my dick. She’s close to finding her orgasm; I only wish I was, too. I pound into her harder, trying to find the edge I need.
The door suddenly flies open as the redhead squeaks, “I’m coming!”