Two Cowboys Next Door

by Jay S. Wilder

  I grimace. “My car broke down. I got a ride from this girl.”

  “Cheyenne!”

  I push past her and enter the house. “I know, Mom, but I didn’t have any other choice. She was just some college girl like me.”

  “Is that her?” Dad calls from the living room.

  I pop my head through the doorway and smile at him. “It’s me.”

  He frowns. “You been out with a boy?”

  “Dad,” I complain. “Really?”

  “I’m not mad, Cheyenne. You should be seeing boys. Just as long as it’s not Clay Murphy.”

  I hide my face by quickly turning away from him. “Don’t worry. It’s not.”

  7

  Clay

  “Have you seen the McGee’s at all?” Dad’s voice crackles over the phone.

  I lean back against the headboard and look around my childhood room. Dust covered basketball trophies and sketches from middle school line the walls. “I have. Nash and I are actually doing some work over there.”

  “Huh. You don’t say.”

  “Yes,” I slowly answer. “We are.”

  “Ranch hand work? You hate working in the fields.”

  “No, Mrs. McGee needs help around the house. Repair stuff.”

  “That’s nice of you.”

  I stifle a yawn. “We could use the money.”

  “What about Cheyenne?”

  The name sends ripples of want through me. I’ve been counting the hours since she ran away from Nash and me this afternoon. “I’ve seen her,” I simply say.

  “She’s going to be a school teacher. Did she tell you?”

  “That’s great.”

  A heavy pause fills the air.

  “Is there something else you want to say?” I ask.

  “She’s a nice girl.”

  “Damn, old man.”

  “Hey,” he barks. “Show me some respect. If your mother was alive to hear you talking like that...”

  “I’m kidding,” I interrupt. “I mean old man in the respectful sense.”

  A door loudly shuts somewhere downstairs. I grit my teeth. Nash has been puttering around the house for the last hour, banging shit and sulking. I’m a breath away from going down there and cursing him out. We’re both sexually frustrated, but that doesn’t mean we have to be mopey bitches.

  It’s ironic how fast his cocky attitude from this afternoon faded. Cheyenne not coming back to us within the hour hit his ego hard. I do get it. Nash and I aren’t used to waiting too long for women.

  And usually the waiting we do isn’t this painful.

  “She always had a thing for you,” Dad says.

  “What’s that?”

  “Cheyenne always had a thing for you.”

  My lips twist into a smile. “You’re thinking you’re going to set me up.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?”

  “Getting set up means settling down.”

  “Yeah,” he grumpily says. “And we know how you feel about that.”

  More banging reverberates through the house. “Talk to you later, Dad. Have a good trip.”

  “Don’t burn the ranch down.”

  “I haven’t yet.”

  I hang up and toss the phone on the end of the bed. Hooking my arms behind my head, I settle into the pillows. Nash’s knocking around has been replaced with the radio.

  I take in a long breath and let it out through clenched teeth. There’s no relaxing. Not with Cheyenne McGee still on the run.

  I half expected her to come back to us tonight. The electricity that happened between us wasn’t in my head. If our kiss made her half as wild as it did me she’s going to have trouble sleeping for weeks.

  My dick twitches in my boxers. I fly my hand down and rub my fingers across the bulge. A vision forms in front of me. Cheyenne’s full lips eagerly part. They’re pink and raw, and ready to take my length in.

  I tug my dick out of the slit in my boxers and slowly pump it. My fingers curl around the base and travel up to the tip. It pulses hot in my hand. I close my eyes and imagine Cheyenne’s pussy locked around it.

  I clench and release the pressure on my shaft. My hand slides up and down, my fingers crashing against my balls and slipping over the tip of my dick.

  Two pink nipples bounce around in front of me. They’re perfectly centered, mounds of flesh and a line of cleavage, all begging to be touched. I take one in two fingers and turn it clockwise. Cheyenne screams in pleasure. She arches her back, sending her nipples pointing towards the sky.

  I rub my dick faster. My balls clench tight. Pleasure and pressure build. I burst, sweet relief flying across my leg.

  My hand falls to my side and my ears fill with white noise. The vision of Cheyenne is still there, her naked body teasing me.

  “Fuck.”

  I may have just burst all over the bed, but I’m not satiated. Shooting my load and calling it a day isn’t going to get the job done.

  I need the real thing. I need Cheyenne’s tits pressed into my face. I need her tongue running across my balls.

  There’s a heavy knock on the door. I push my dick back into my boxers and sit up.

  “What?”

  “The wi-fi isn’t working,” Nash grumpily says.

  “Too bad. Go read a book.”

  “I don’t need a book.”

  I smirk to myself. “You need to watch porn, huh?”

  “What if I do? So what?”

  I get up and open the door. Nash is still wearing his clothes and hat. He crosses his arms and glares at me like it’s my fault the internet is screwed up.

  “Jerking off won’t do it,” I say. I push past him and navigate towards the bathroom. “Trust me.”

  8

  Cheyenne

  I slam my textbook closed and toss it to the floor. It hits the carpet with a heavy thump. Giving up on life, I collapse against my bed and stare up at the ceiling.

  It’s been over twenty-four hours since I saw Clay and Nash and I still can’t stop thinking about them. Not even my car issues and upcoming exams have been enough to distract me.

  I should have ridden away the second I saw Clay and Nash out there at the fence post. I should have used my brain instead of letting my hormones take charge. I should have remembered the promise I’d made to myself about not embarrassing my father.

  Him mentioning Clay the minute I walked in the door last night made things worse. I’m afraid to think about Clay or Nash in my own house. The irrational side of me half believes my dad might suddenly become a mind reader and bust me.

  I don’t know why I told the guys I’m a virgin. It’s not the reason I didn’t have sex with them. It was just a convenient excuse. What I didn’t want to do was tell Clay the truth about my dad not liking him.

  Telling them I’d never had sex didn’t bother me, but referencing Clay’s reputation did.

  Though he probably knows about it.

  I sigh and sit up. I don’t have to think about it any longer, to know part of the reason I didn’t tell them the truth has to do with knowing they would have talked me out of my resolve. If I’d told them the real reason I couldn’t hook up with them, or hang around them, they would have found some way to convince me being with them was worthwhile.

  It wouldn’t have been hard. I’ve been thinking about their lips and hands all night. Half of dinner was spent fantasizing about what it would be like to have one of their dicks in my mouth while the other one went down on me.

  The other half of dinner was spent avoiding my parents’ eyes and feeling guilty about the fantasy.

  I jump from bed and pull on my shoes. Maybe a walk will clear my head.

  The house is quiet. The only sound is the ticking of the clock in the downstairs hall. I creep down the stairs, past my parents’ bedroom then out into the yard. Skirting along the house to avoid turning on the flood light, I head across the yard and along the horse pasture’s fence.

  A voice coming from the horse barn stops me. I freeze
next to the fence and listen more carefully. It’s a man’s voice, but I can’t pick out any decipherable words.

  With it being close to midnight all of the ranch hands should be gone by now. Why would any of them still be around?

  I step as softly and quietly as I can across the grass. At the open double barn doors, I press myself against the wood and peek around the corner.

  The sight in the barn makes my jaw drop.

  It’s Clay and Nash, both shirtless and both with suds-covered sponges in their hands. They’re washing two mares, Daisy and Juno. Though the men’s shirts are gone, they’ve still got their black Stetsons on. With each movement of their hands, water spills down their wrists and over their forearms.

  I gulp and shrink back a bit, eager to not get caught.

  “Good girl,” Clay tells Daisy, bending down to get some more water from the bucket at his feet. She presses her nose against his arm. Clay squeezes water from the sponge and his muscles twist. There’s a tattoo on his shoulder I never knew he had. I study it closer and make out the black tracing of a horse.

  Nash has a tattoo as well, a horseshoe on the top right side of his chest. It moves as he wrings water from his sponge. Desire hits me right between the legs.

  I have to get out of here. If I don’t I’ll lose my mind…

  Or do something worse.

  I yank my head away from the doorway and push my back against the barn. The door unexpectedly shakes beneath my weight.

  “You hear that?” Clay asks Nash.

  I pinch my eyelids closed. Shit.

  I would make an awful spy.

  Knowing I have to play my appearance off, I enter the barn as nonchalantly as I possibly can. “Hey.”

  They both stare at me. Clay’s sponge falls into the bucket with a loud splash.

  “Hey,” Nash grins. My eyes drift to his tattoo. Realizing I’m staring, I quickly look away.

  “Why are you here this late?” I ask the floor.

  “We’re always ramped up after leaving the rodeo,” Clay answers. There are more sounds of water splashing. I peek from under my lashes to see him rinsing Daisy off. “There’s some more work left to be done here… so we figured we’d stop by.”

  I shouldn’t be here. I should be saying good night, walking away, and climbing into bed. I should be studying for exams and making plans to go out with some random nice boy from church. A boy my father approves of.

  But my feet just won’t move.

  Nash stares straight at me, a glint of seduction in his eye. “It’s nice of you to come out here to see us.”

  “I didn’t come out here to see you,” I quickly say. “You don’t have to be presumptuous.”

  “And you don’t have to be patronizing.”

  I balk.

  “See, I can use big words too.” He smirks. “You may not have come out here looking for us, but now that you’re here, you’re not leaving.”

  Clay dries his hands on his jeans and watches our exchange.

  I keep my mouth shut. It’s embarrassing to be putting my foot in my mouth this much.

  Clay takes a slow step towards me, then another one. Soon he’s only inches away. A thick cocktail of hay, sweat, and soap comes off of him. He looks down at me through half closed eyes.

  “We like that you’re a virgin,” he says, the deep timbers of the words sending shivers through me. My toes curl inside my sneakers, and the hair on the back of my neck stands straight up.

  Nash grunts in agreement. “We sure do.”

  Clay lethargically runs his hand down my arm. “We’re going to be your first, Cheyenne. Me and Nash together.”

  I nearly choke on my own breath.

  “Don’t be scared,” he goes on. “We’ll take care of you.”

  I sway on my feet. My head’s not on straight. I know that. Sleeping not far from this barn are my parents, one of who would be severely disappointed in me were he to know what I was up to.

  I don’t want to shame my family. I don’t want to make them a target for the local rumor mill.

  But I also don’t want to go through life with regrets, and I know if I walk away from Clay and Nash I’ll end up doing just that. My body responds to them in a way I never thought possible. They kissed me and I felt like a magnet being drawn to the two of them at once. Their power overwhelmed me, wiped my mind, made me feel hedonistic to an insane degree.

  How can I let something like that go?

  They’ll be gone soon anyway, moving on with the rodeo. No one in town will ever know about what I did with them.

  Nash walks over to stand next to us. His brown eyes trail over my body, the feel of his gaze on my breasts and hips almost as strong as a real touch. His eyes come back up to my face and connect with mine. It’s settled. I won’t deny them any longer. I give Nash the slightest nod possible.

  They’re both on me at the same time, hands running through my hair and across my butt. Nash kisses me hungrily, his tongue forcing my lips open. I unlock my jaw and drop my head to the side. His tongue pushes all the way to the back of my mouth.

  Clay runs his hands over my shorts and under my shirt. Rough, calloused palms sweep across my stomach.

  Breaking off the kiss, Nash loops his arms around me and picks me up. They seem to have an unspoken plan because we head for the steps leading up to the hay loft. The top of the barn is dimmer than it is downstairs, with just enough moonlight coming in through the open shutters.

  Clay lays down a blanket he must have picked up on our way up here and Nash gently rests me down onto it. Hay crunches from my weight. My pulse quickens and it becomes hard to breathe. Dozens of thoughts press into my mind, most of them telling me I shouldn’t be doing what I’m about to do, but I push them away. I made up my mind. My worries aren’t in charge anymore. It’s my body calling all the shots, and it only wants one thing.

  Clay and Nash both get down on their knees to hover over me in the moonlight. Clay takes off his hat and tosses it into the hay somewhere then leans down to press his bare chest against mine. He kisses me delicately, his hands roving over my head and neck.

  The kiss becomes harsher and more urgent, each strong flick of his tongue causing another painful throb between my legs. His hands fly lower and run over my chest. My nipples, trapped in my bra, grow pebble hard.

  I arch my back and push my chest up towards his hands, silently asking for more. The anxiety only lasts a minute, and then it vanishes.

  Clay takes his hands to my waist, one of them finding the seam of my shorts. His fingers graze against my mound and I cry into his mouth. I can feel his smile against my lips.

  “Relax,” he whispers. “And we’ll take care of everything.”

  He leans back and undoes my shorts then pulls them off of me. My shoes go with them. Nash works on my top, yanking it over my head and dropping it in the hay. I’m left in bra and panties, half naked along with the two shirtless men.

  “Damn, you’re fucking hot,” Nash murmurs, running his fingertips along my arms. He leans down and kisses me, his fingers teasing the top of my bra. He finds my nipples through the cups and presses against them. I’m wild with pleasure. I kiss Nash harder and release myself to how good it all feels.

  Clay pulls my panties down, taking his time removing them. My nervousness is back. My knees instinctively lock together. I stop kissing Nash to look down at Clay.

  His hazel eyes gaze back at me, penetrating all of the discomfort. “It’s fine,” he softly says. “Trust us.” He gently pries my legs open and drops his head between them.

  His wet tongue runs across my clit, sending a wave of ecstasy up my body. My head falls back against the blanket. He slowly rolls his tongue over my hard nub, giving me quick hits of pleasure.

  Nash releases a satisfied sound and pushes my bra cups down. My breasts spill out over the wires, the areolas deep pink from desire. Nash takes a nipple between two fingers and slowly twists it. Angling over me, he gathers my other breast and pushes it into his mouth.
Hard sucks pull my nipple in between his teeth.

  I groan and bite down on my bottom lip, the sensations in my breasts and between my legs nearly too much to handle. They ebb and flow, pushing together and growing into something larger. The rounds of pleasure get shorter and more intense and I explode, crying out as both men suck on me.

  Clay keeps lapping at me, running his tongue up and down my opening. I squirm a bit under the touch, but his fingers press firmly into my thighs, keeping my legs locked in place.

  Fresh desire throbs deep in me. Clay seems to sense it. He straightens up to standing and undoes his pants. His boxers come off along with them and his dick protrudes out. It’s the first one I’ve ever seen in real life and it seems crazy long and thick. I can’t take my eyes off it.

  Excitement and unease fill me. Clay keeps his gaze on me as he gets back down onto his knees. He slowly pushes my legs open. Nash’s mouth falls on my neck and kisses up and down my throat. I relax once more and sink down into the blanket-covered hay.

  Clay wraps his fingers around his dick and begins to slowly stroke it. Gingerly, he nudges forward. The very tip of his length pushes against my opening and I tense in anticipation. Clay stops where he is.

  Nash stops kissing my neck to pull the rest of his clothing off. He adjusts himself, settling on his knees next to Clay. They tower above me, two delicious men who just happen to be ripped from head to toe. Nash begins to stroke his own dick. It’s got a slight curve to it that Clay’s doesn’t have and his hand jerks sideways as he pleasures himself.

  Clay takes one of my knees and presses it towards me, folding my leg back onto my stomach. His dick keeps pushing against my folds. It slips beyond them and suddenly he’s inside of me.

  He fills me up, stretching me and making me feel like I’m about to rip apart. It’s almost too much to handle, but it’s also amazing. I groan against each inch going into me. Deeper and deeper Clay pushes.

  He hits a spot of resistance. There’s a sharp prick of pain and I lurch. I start to tell Clay to stop but he’s still pushing forward, stretching the pain out. I bite down hard on my bottom lip. Further into me he goes. He draws back out, making my walls ache. The original good feeling is there too, though. Clay pumps slowly into me, each move bringing me more pleasure.