Cowboy Up

by Shane Allison

  “At least I got family out here in the boonies. In the city, I have never felt lonelier.”

  “I have my animals, but I know what you mean. Listen, looks like we’re both out of beer. You wanna head back in the house? It’s hotter than the devil’s asshole out here.”

  I grinned at Heath’s colorful analogy and made a mental note to use such a line in my writing. “Yeah, I’m melting,” I said. The minute we stepped back into Heath’s ranch house, the air from the air conditioner was like a cool kiss against my face. “Feels good in here,” I said. “This heat ain’t playing around.”

  “Yeah, I think it’s like one hundred and two degrees out there today.”

  “I believe it,” I said as I stared at Heath’s bubble butt tight in faded jeans. There was a rip slightly below his left asscheek. I could make out white cotton material through the tear as I followed this bohunk of a cowboy through the living room to the kitchen. Heath pulled two more Buds out of the refrigerator, and handed me one. “I don’t see how you can stand working out there in all that heat.” We sat down at his kitchen table to cool ourselves. I could feel beads of sweat dripping from my armpits.

  “Don’t have a choice, really,” Heath said. “I’d love nothing more than to lie in bed all day, but the ranch gotta be run, you know? I gotta feed the cows, my hogs, and chickens, plow my cornfield. I get up at four in the morning and I don’t wind down until about eight, nine o’ clock in the night sometimes. It’s hard work without the staff I need to run this place.” Heath rolled the cold bottle across his forehead. “I guess you get used to it after ten years.”

  The beer quenched my thirst as it soothed my parched throat. Both of our T-shirts were sweat soaked. I looked on as beads of perspiration trickled down Heath’s handsome face, circling around his chiseled jawline peppered with black stubble. “So, are you from here in Tallahassee?” I asked.

  “I was born and raised in Destin, Florida. My mama died of cancer when I was two. My granddaddy got sick and too old to see about the ranch, so we moved back here to help him run the place until his death from Alzheimer’s disease.”

  I had figured Heath wasn’t from here. They don’t make them as beautiful as him in Tally. “I didn’t think that you were from here. You don’t look like somebody I went to high school with. I’m forever running into people I went to school with. I was just telling my friend, AJ, that I get sick of running into people that—”

  “Antwan, has anyone ever told you, you talk too much?” Heath’s remark was a shock to hear if not ballsy on his behalf to say.

  “I know. My mama tells me that all the time. My friends say that I don’t let people get a word in edgewise. I go on and on. Would you believe that I was a shy kid growing up?”

  “Antwan?” Heath said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up and come over here. I can barely make you out sittin’ all the way down there.” Heath padded his knee. “Come have a seat.”

  I thought Heath’s request was weird if not random. “Actually, I’m good. These kitchen chairs are pretty comfortable. Good and…sturdy. Strong legs. Did you make these yourself?”

  “Enough with the small talk. I’m not asking; get your ass over here.”

  Being that Heath’s gun was leaning against the side of the refrigerator behind him, I didn’t want to risk what would happen if I refused him. I took another swig of my beer, got up, and walked over to the end of the table Heath was sitting. He tapped his sinewy leg, motioning for me to take a seat. “I’m pretty heavy. Are you sure—” Before I could finish my sentence, Heath grabbed me and pulled me into his lap.

  “That’s better. How does that feel?”

  “Fine, other than the fact that the last time I sat on anybody’s lap, I was seven and he went by the name Santa Claus.” Heath chuckled before he took another drink from his beer, his full, pink lips tight around the rim of the bottle. His hands were filthy, with grit under his nails from all his hard work.

  Heath rested his arm around the lower part of my back. “Things got bad when I had to put my daddy in a home. Caught the same thing my granddaddy did, Alzheimer’s. I tried to take care of him for a while, but I couldn’t give him the care he needed. Last thing he ever said to me was that he regretted having a faggot for a son.”

  “Jesus, Heath, that’s awful.”

  “I mean it was the disease talking. Other than the suits from the bank, I don’t get a lot of visitors out here, so it’s nice to have some good company.” I met Heath’s gaze as he supported me in his lap. His arms and shoulders were huge and strong, glistening with sweat. Heath ran a finger along my jaw. He pulled me to him and kissed me. His lips were wet and supple against mine. I could taste the beer when he slipped his tongue in my mouth. Heath ran his hand under my shirt, making my dick stir in my shorts as he traipsed my nips with a couple of dirty fingers. I felt his hard-on twitch through his jeans under my ass. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said.

  “Lead the way.” I thought of my car on the side of the road, and hoped some sheriff wouldn’t ticket me, or worse, have me towed. Knowing how off the wall my family can get when beer and fried fish is involved, the party would run for hours as long as there was an abundance of liquor.

  Our shirts were off before we even got to Heath’s bedroom. Other than the cover of Men’s Fitness, I had never been in close proximity of such beauty. I was beginning to think that I would have to swipe my debit card for grade-A, primo dick that came in the form of an escort. I hoped to hell I wasn’t dreaming ’cuz I was about to get my swirl on with this fine-ass, Garth Brooks-looking cowboy. We were all over each other, kissing, squeezing, Heath licking me in places I never knew existed. “Damn, you feel good,” he said as he licked and bit the lobes of my ears. My dick was hard at this point; I thought it was going to burst through my cargos. I could tell Heath had a kinky side to him from the way he was coming at me. I kicked off my shoes as Heath untied the drawstring to my shorts and pulled them and my drawers down past my ass, thighs, and off my feet. He yanked his boxer-briefs and jeans down to his snakeskin boots.

  “Here, help me get these fuckers off.” Heath pressed his right foot against my belly.

  “You push and I’ll pull,” I said. I pulled and tugged as hard as I could until the boot gave way.

  “Do the same with this one,” he said, as I tugged at the boot that was stubborn as a mule to get off. I threw his shit-kickers off into a corner. Those damn jeans and undies were the last: Heath’s uncut prick, which had to be about nine inches, bounced from the cocoon of cotton and bleached denim. The aroma of dirt, sweat, and man-musk filled the room as we made our way onto the king-size bed. Our dicks and nut sacs rubbed together as we made out, sucking each other’s tongue. I kissed and licked down his chest, along the treasure trail of black fur that ran down his stomach. Heath’s thick dick bobbed to life, the tip of the bubblegum-pink head peeking from a tender sheath of foreskin. He was already edging cowboy prejizz from the teardrop-shaped piss spout. I lapped up that tart juice, savoring the stuff and then swallowing. Heath’s dickhead was a raging hot-pink shade. I wrapped these full, dick-sucking lips of mine around it, sucking slow and easy. I was afraid if I rushed things, Heath would come too quickly like some white guys often do. No, I wanted to savor his meat. I went down until I could feel his tip bang the back of my throat. “Choke on it,” Heath said, as he succumbed to my blow-job work, holding my head on his fat inches. He let me up long enough to catch my breath.

  “Lick my balls,” Heath said. I pushed my face easily between his powerful legs. If I could get high off a man’s ball musk, I would be a junky, checking my gay-ass into a rehab clinic for nut sniffers. I washed his balls, taking the whole damn sac in my mouth as Heath pumped his cock with his dirty right mitt. After I gave his balls some much-needed attention, I moved back onto his dick and blew it a little before I made my way back up to him. I had almost forgotten a man was attached to all that dick. No way was he going to come without fucking me first. It was
the least he could do, being that he damn near splattered my dirty mind all over the road an hour ago.

  When Heath flipped me over on my belly, he slapped my booty. “Fuckin’ beautiful ass.” Heath grabbed my hips and pulled me until this beautiful ass of mine came point blank to his dick. I embraced the pillow in my hands, ready to get fucked, but no, Heath had something else in mind. He pulled my asscheeks apart with brute force and buried his face between my halves. “Oh, fuck,” I said. Heath tongue-teased my hole, stretching my ripe core with a finger. Couldn’t think of the last time I’d gotten my salad tossed. The way Heath was going, he was no stranger to it. He hugged my hips, his face slipping deeper between my booty.

  “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

  “God, yes.”

  “Then say it. Tell me you want me to fuck you.” Heath slapped me across my right cheek as he munched on my hole.

  “Fuck me.”

  “Louder.”

  “Fuck me!”

  “Louder!” Heath yelled.

  “Fuck me! Please fuck me, Heath! Fuck me!”

  He pushed me back onto the bed, walked over to his bedside table, and retrieved a rubber and a small bottle of lubricant out of the drawer. Fuck yeah, I was in for it. My spit-soaked hole was ready for what this cowboy was about to lay up in me.

  “You’re tighter than a steer’s asshole. When was the last time you were fucked?”

  “’Bout eight months ago.”

  “Yeah, I believe it,” Heath said, as he tore the yellow cellophane from the rubber and rolled the lubricated latex on his dick. He tugged at the tip to make room for his spunk. He popped the lube top open and ran a line of the grease down the shaft of his dick like he was about to shove a kielbasa sausage up my ass. “This shit right here will open you up. Turn over on your back.” I did what he wanted. Heath sat up on his knees in front of me. I pulled my legs back, down for whatever. The grease was cold going on as he slathered the stuff between my cheeks, along my taut hole. Our gaze met as he finger-fucked me. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m good.”

  “Since it’s been a while for you, I’ll ease it in, go slow, so you can get used to me.”

  Heath smeared more lube on his dick before he sat the bottle on the floor at the foot of the bed. “Slide all the way at the back,” he said. “This way, I got something to hold on to while I’m fucking you.” I cocked my legs up and felt the hot-pink head enter me. I braced myself when I felt inch after inch slide in. “You okay?”

  “Oh yes.”

  Heath gently drove his dick in. There was some slight pressure, but it soon subsided when he had all nine thick inches inside me.

  “Cock feels great in you.” Heath slipped his fingers across my mouth as he sped up his fuck work. I sucked them as he worked me over. “Goddamn, you’re fucking hot,” Heath said. “I’d love to roll around with you in my mud hole out back and fuck you stupid, boy. Show you how we get down in cowboy country.” We had the bed rocking and the springs screaming beneath us. With the prime fucking I was getting, I probably wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week, but a good twisting out was worth it. Heath threw my legs up on his shoulders as if they were sandbags as he drilled his dick inside me deep and crazy. We came together in sloppy, wet kisses as he fucked me. “I got a dildo that will get you nice and stretched.” Heath eased back, allowing me breathing room, but still had my legs hiked over his shoulders as he pumped my dick in his palm. I watched from the dresser mirror as he took my ass. The harder he fucked the louder the bedsprings. Our bodies were drenched with sweat.

  Pump.

  Thrust.

  “Fuck, this is good ass,” said Heath. He flipped me back over on my belly and took me from the back, pounding my booty as he held me in a choke hold, yet not enough to hurt me. “I’m gonna come in your fat, hog ass.”

  “Don’t stop. Don’t stop fucking me,” I pleaded.

  “Make you my hog bitch.”

  Within minutes Heath came, spurting thick white gobs up my butt. We collapsed in the bed, but the fun was far from over. With his dick still nestled up my ass, he reached between my legs and dick-fisted me.

  “I’m gonna come,” I warned.

  “Good. Come for me, hog.”

  “Oh god, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

  “Do it. Shoot your juice.” Heath pumped faster and faster, his hand hot and slick.

  “Fuck, I’m coming…I’m coming!”

  I couldn’t hold out and spurted white globs of cum in Heath’s hand, across the bed.

  “Yeaaah, fucking huge hog load, boy,” he said. Heath wouldn’t stop until every drop of jizz was drained out of my balls, cum oozing like liquid sugar over his knuckles, dripping onto my thigh. “You were pretty tight, but you loosened up once I licked you out.” We held each other, soaked in our own sweat and semen. I could taste my ass on his lips as we kissed. “I bet I can get this hole stretched to the size of a doughnut hole.” He reached around and stuffed his finger stained with my spunk back up my ass. I whimpered as he slid it in. “Yeah, I can definitely tame this ass.” Heath pulled out to taste me on his fingers. After an hour, we eventually got up, got dressed, and finished off our beers. “How about I give you a lift to your aunt’s?”

  “Yeah my dad will ride back up here with me to get the car. That’s if a sheriff hasn’t had it towed.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll keep an eye on it until you can get it off the side of the road.” I didn’t want to leave. I could have stayed wrapped in Heath’s arms, spent the rest of the day fucking, sucking and who knows what else. All eyes were on Heath’s 4x4 when it pulled up in front of Auntie Earline’s house. “So, can I see you again?” Heath asked.

  I grabbed a pen that was in the ashtray, took his hand,, and scribbled my number on his palm. The smell of fish and barbecue filled the air. “Call me tonight. I should be home around nine if that’s not too late.”

  “I’ll do that. If you want, we could have lunch. I know a good seafood place in St. Marks that has the best trout and grouper you will ever taste.”

  “Sounds like you’re asking me out on a date.” My cousins, aunties and uncles wouldn’t stop staring, wondering who it was I was up in a truck with.

  “I just enjoyed your company and wouldn’t mind seeing you again, that’s all.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. Give me a call tonight to discuss it,” I said.

  As Mother’s Day came to a close, I couldn’t stop thinking about Heath and the toe-curling, heart-stopping sex we’d had. Luckily, Daddy had the spare for my car back at the house. I changed it off and told him that I would meet him back at the house. I remembered that I didn’t properly thank Heath for all his kind hospitality. It was the least I could do.

  SADDLE UP

  Jay Starre

  Independent characters like a great many cowboys back in the 1890s, Danny Parker and Hank James were a couple of young scoundrels. Both were from Irish stock, although Hank’s grandmother was an Indian squaw and he had the dark skin to prove it. Hank was the taller of the two and the quick-witted one too. Danny was black haired with striking blue eyes and a huge, muscular body. They made a handsome pair, which went a long ways to helping them wriggle out of the nearly constant trouble they got into.

  Like many cowboys at that time, they were wary of following the strictures of any particular religion. When Preacher Brian Trenton came to town, fresh out of Divinity College back East and new to the Wyoming hill country, he faced a real task in recruiting the locals to his particular brand of Christian worship, especially these two.

  A month after he came to town, the cowboys stumbled on the blond minister buck naked bathing in Copper Head Creek just north of town. He might have assumed he could find some I privacy in the quiet location, but Hank and Danny were used to roaming the hills in their young eagerness to explore and discover.

  Both Hank and Danny were real rascals a
nd loved practical jokes. This did not endear them to others who usually found them more irritating than funny. They were experts at riding, roping, and wrangling, though, so their rambunctious natures were generally tolerated. Suddenly, here was an opportunity for just the kind of mischief they loved! It was no surprise that Hank immediately decided to get some fun out of the situation.

  Hiding behind a thick copse of alder, they peered through the shrubbery and ogled the handsome young preacher for a few minutes while he vigorously scrubbed his broad shoulders and bare torso with soap. He was sitting in shallow water that hid his body from the navel down, so they weren’t offered a view of his dick and ass, which is what they were both interested in.

  Hank’s quick mind and randy nature came to the fore. “I got a real nasty idea, Danny. Let’s play a trick on the stuck-up prig.”

  “What you got in mind, Hank?”

  “Let’s get buck naked like Preacher Trenton, then ride up on him from out of the blue. We’ll see what kind of look he gets on his face! It ought to be a hell of a hoot.”

  “But ain’t that kinda illegal? Naked like that out in the open?”

  “Hell, he ain’t the sheriff or anything. He’s just a damn preacher. He sure as hell can’t arrest us!”

  “No, that’s right. But, you know Hank, he’s a fine-looking man, and he seems to be harmless in his own way and all. Maybe it ain’t right to make fun of him. You can bet he won’t be joinin’ us in any shenanigans or what not!”

  “That’s just it, Danny. I got a real suspicion he would love some shenanigans. I noticed the way he was lookin’ at you the other day when he was relatin’ all that nonsense about the Lord and all to you in the churchyard. He was lookin’ down at your crotch more than once! I bet my bottom dollar that preacher needs a big pecker up the ass!”

  Danny stifled a burst of laughter at the notion, but his cock rose up in his jeans good and stiff at the idea of the preacher spread-eagled and getting pounded by his buddy Hank’s fat dick! Or even better, his own!