In the last installment of Rodeo Boys

In the first installment of Rodeo Boys

We stood outside the real estate office, staring at the window covered in promo pages of properties for sale in the area. Most of them were single-family homes on township-sized plots of land.

Not what we were looking for. We needed a homestead. An adequate house. We didn’t mind doing renovation work on it. Most importantly was the land and room for my business.

Garrett’s hand found mine as we gathered our courage to go inside. I squeezed his hand and clung on. We’d been slowly breaking the townsfolk in on the change in our relationship.

Just quiet stuff. No, kissing and making out. Even straight folk shouldn’t be engaging in intimate behavior like that in public. Just gentle looks, nudges, and sometimes holding hands.

It had taken us over a week to settle into our new living arrangements at the ranch. Now we were in the right headspace to take the next step in our lives as a couple.

“We ready?” Garrett bumped his shoulder against mine.

“As I’ll ever be.” I’d made an appointment with the only real estate agent in town. Walter Carter. He’d been bumping around for as long as I could remember. He was my parents’ age and fighting off retirement as hard as they were. It was unlikely he’d find someone to take his place.

A bell jingled as Garrett opened the door, and we were met with a waft of pungent heat, a sign of a broken air conditioner and insufficient ventilation. It was deadly outside, hitting over 90F.

Walter came out of the back room. Garrett and I had released each other and were now standing with our hands stuffed in our jeans’ pockets.

I reached for Walter’s outstretched hand and shook it. “Walter.”

“Dirk.” He swept his hand out, then sat in the chair behind his desk. “Sit … sit.”

Garrett and I took a seat. I hitched my thumb at him. “You know Garrett.”

Walter nodded. “Sure do. Heard tell he’s quite the lady’s man.”

I wrinkled my nose. He hadn’t come out and said it, but Walter had taken a stab at Garrett, as if it were his fault that I was in a romantic relationship with him. “That’s not why we’re here.”

Walter formed a peak with his fingers beneath his chin. He looked back and forth between us, sizing us up. He didn’t like us, the gay side of us, but he wanted our business.

“Yes, you’re looking for a second property.”

“We are.”

Walter’s eyebrows rose. “You’re buying it together?”

“We want our own place,” Garrett replied. I was glad he wasn’t going to leave all the talking to me. This was going to be his home, too. We were equally invested.

Walter sighed, but didn’t comment. “I have a few properties that might serve your needs to have a home and space for your business. What size of acreage are you looking for?”

“We’re not planning on ranching,” I answered. “So, we’d be happy with one hundred.”

“But we want privacy,” Garrett added.

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He was right about that. We needed room to roam. To ride our horses and make love in the great outdoors on our own property. We didn’t want to be restrained by neighbors.

“What’s wrong with staying at your primary property?”

Walter had asked the question. I didn’t feel like I needed to pull punches with the answer. “My parents aren’t pleased with either of us now that we’re together as a couple.”

“It was easier to leave and start fresh.” Garrett set his hand on my thigh.

Walter crossed his arms. “Folks aren’t well pleased with you boys.”

“Thankfully, we’re only trying to please ourselves.” I leaned forward against the front of Walter’s desk. “Do you have properties for us to look at, or don’t you?”

Walter’s face twitched. He was fighting an internal struggle. We knew what was coming. Even if we saw a property we liked, it didn’t mean the sellers would sell to us.

Some would be upset with Walter for even bringing us around for a viewing.

“With Chicory Ranch as leverage and our savings, our budget is a million.”

Walter cleared his throat. That dollar value had decided it.

“I have four properties that might suit your needs. The sellers are motivated because they’re all aging out of hobby ranching. None of their kids wants to take the properties on.”

Walter rose from his seat. “You know where the Thompson place is?” He dug around inside his desk drawer and produced a set of keys. When I nodded, he said, “I’ll meet you there.”

I’m glad he hadn’t insisted on driving us around. We were more comfortable in my big pickup, where we could have our hands wander onto one another to stay in contact.

Telling Garrett I was in love with him had been the greatest achievement of my life. And knowing he loved me back brought all the best parts of living into sync.

We pulled off the road onto a long driveway through tall grass until a small ranch-style home emerged. I knew which driveway was the Thompsons’, but I’d never been down it.

There was plenty of privacy from the road, and it had a newish barn that looked big enough for at least six horses. We headed there first. My business was more important than the house.

As we walked through the barn, Walter held back. Garrett inspected all the stall doors as I took a turn through each box, checking what needed to be done to bring them up to my standards.

The barn was eerie without animals.

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“Have the Thompsons moved out already?”

Walter wandered into the barn. “They’ve found the donkeys, llamas, and sheep new homes.”

“I see what you mean by motivated if they’re already clearing out.” I walked out the far side of the barn. Garrett followed me to the small outdoor arena. “We’d need to build an indoor.”

Garrett nodded. “Easily done.”

“How many acres?” I shouted.

Walter hurried to catch up as Garrett and I strode out onto the land behind the house. It was good usable space. Mostly flat. Plenty of hay could be harvested from it.

“One-twenty.”

I pointed to the end of the grassy area. “And the forest down there. Would that be ours?”

“Twenty acres of the property is forested. There’s a pond as well.”

“Hm.” I nodded my head. So far, I’d liked what I’d seen. I nudged Garrett. “What are you thinking? Do you think we could make it work?”

“Land is good. The barn is usable… for now. Depends on the house.”

I turned to Walter. “Can we look at the house?”

“Sure thing.” He walked away from us. “Right this way. We’ll go in through the back door because that’s where you’ll most likely be going in and out.”

Garrett placed his hand on my back as Walter fiddled with the keys. His palm was warm and felt like home and security. A reassurance that we were making this huge leap together.

The back door opened into a well-appointed mud room. It was adequate in size and had plenty of places to store boots, Stetsons, and whatever else we hauled in there.

It led to a hallway with a bathroom for cleaning up before entering the house. After that was the kitchen. It was dated and worn, but Garrett and I weren’t fancy when it came to cooking.

“I’ll wait here and let you take a look around.”

We wandered through the living room with brown shag carpet and chuckled when we saw that it extended to the bedrooms. It would need to come out, pronto.

“You won’t catch me walking barefoot until we replace this,” Garrett said.

“Agreed. Boots would be staying on.”

Garrett smiled at me and pulled me into the primary bedroom. “Are you telling me that if we buy this property, you’re planning on going to bed with your boots on?”

I smirked at him. “And nothing else.”

Garrett growled, closed the bedroom door, and pushed me up against it. His kiss was swift and passionate, as if we hadn’t been making love all morning already.

I placed my hands on his shoulders. “You’re a beast, you know that?”

“Can’t help myself when I’m around you.”

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I stroked his cheek with my knuckles. “You still want to go into the city tonight? Or should we take out chances and have sex in the barn for a bit of excitement?”

“The barn sounds intriguing, but I’d like something new.”

We had the talk last night. The one where we decide whether we want our relationship to be open. Did we want to continue roping in willing men to fuck, or be fucked by?

By grace, we both hungered for men outside our relationship. As long as we were together, and we never saw the same guy more than once. The twins, Nash and Austin, were out of luck.

Maybe.

We hadn’t ruled them out when Garrett brought them up for a one-off repeat. We’d turned ourselves on, talking about them and how incredible it would be to see them fuck.

No guarantees of that.

A man could dream.

I kissed Garrett’s chin. “Then I’m all in on cruising tonight.”

Walter cleared his throat on the other side of the door and knocked. “Gentlemen?”

“Sorry.” Garrett pulled open the door once I was out of the way. “We wanted to discuss what we thought about the property in private.” He strode out past Walter.

Walter looked at me. “And what did you decide?”

“That we’re going to keep looking.”

It wasn’t what Walter wanted to hear, but like a good agent, he directed us to the other three properties. None felt as good as the first one. We decided to put in an offer.

After much emailing, printing, signing, and negotiating, we walked out of Walter’s office with a contract in place for the Thompson property for $647,945.

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We were giddy as we drove into the city. We’d done it. We’d bought a home for the two of us. Somewhere we could start our lives together. Closing was three weeks away.

Until then, we had some cruising to do.

We decided on a gay bar instead of a country-and-western bar to see what we might find other than a lot of men in plaid shirts, jeans, and cowboy boots and hats.

Together as a couple, we were looking to increase our tastes.

All eyes were on us as we entered the dark space, only illuminated by chandeliers and the flashing, strobe lights above the packed dance floor. We stuck out like a pig in a tutu.

No one was dressed like us, and we’d cleaned ourselves up nice. I tipped my hat to a couple of men destroying the straws in their drinks with their teeth as they watched us.

I wasn’t sure if we should feel out of place or like we’d shaken things up. Garrett wandered up to the bar and flagged down the bartender. “Two beers,” was all he said.

A sultry male bartender, who was wearing a pink tank top with a rainbow unicorn plastered across it, leaned against his side of the bar. “Honey, you’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Whatever you have in bottles. Just something plain.”

“Not an IPA?”

Garrett scowled, which made me smile. “Don’t even know what that is.”

“You boys have never been here before.” He tipped his head. “That wasn’t a question.”

“No, we’re trying something new,” I said, stepping up beside Garrett as I took in who was serving us. He was gorgeous with a riot of dark curly hair, an angelic face, and bright blue eyes.

And he was as willowy as a sapling.

One could break a man like that in two.

The bartender retrieved two beers from a fridge, his gaze only leaving us to concentrate fleetingly on popping the caps. He was all dimples when he smiled at Garrett, then me.

“You two together?”

“Yessir.” Garrett took the first beer and took a long swallow. I was tempted to lick his throat and feel his Adam’s apple bobbing on my tongue. I put my arm around him instead.

“How long?” The bartender pushed the second beer closer to me.

Now, that was a difficult number to pin down.

“Been partners for years,” Garrett replied. “Been different lately, though.”

I dragged my hand down his back and slipped my thumb through Garrett’s belt loop at the back of his jeans to let him know I wasn’t leaving his side. Instead, I was giving him space to breathe. It wasn’t like him to get so chatty with a stranger right out of the gate.

“How so?” The bartender shushed someone calling his name.

Harper.

I took a sip of my beer.

“We’ve bought a house together,” Garrett replied. “Gonna make it our home.”

Harper leaned over the bar and supported his chin on his hand. He looked back and forth between us. “That’s quite the step. Are you two gorgeous men from Chitwood?”

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I nodded.

“That’s got to be tough, being out in a place like that.” He cocked his head. “You are out?”

“Slowly,” I answered. “Breaking them in one townsfolk at a time.”

Harper hovered even further over the bar, his arm beneath his chest. There was a wild and mischievous look in his eyes that was speaking to my cock. “Can I let you in on a little secret?”

Garrett shifted his weight. His dick had picked up the same emotion as mine. “Sure.”

Harper smiled at us. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to ride a cowboy.”

Yeah, goddamned lift off. My cock twitched and pulsed, expanding in my jeans. I winked at Harper, then kept my voice real low. “What about a two for one?”

Harper stood, his eyebrows raised. “You two do that kind of thing … together?”

Garrett chuckled. “We have quite a reputation on the rodeo circuit.”

Harper touched his chin. “Oh, my god … that is so hot.”

“Harper!” He looked over his shoulder. The other bartender was looking like he was getting snowed under with drink orders. We needed to wrap this up all tidy with a gay pink bow.

I tipped my beer bottle toward Harper. “What time do you finish work?”

“I can be out of here by 2.”

Garrett grumbled. We were both tired after our exciting day of buying a house. Harper looked like he might be a lot of fun, though. He was certainly eager to sample our wares.

“We’ll go away for a bit,” Garrett replied. “But we’ll be back at 2 to collect you.”

Harper clapped his hands together. “Goody. Perfect.” Then he was off to do his job. Both Garrett and I watched him amble away behind the bar, his hips swaying.

Garrett huffed out a laugh. “That’s different for us.”

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I held my bottle to my lips. “Yeah, we’ve never fucked a guy in a skirt before.”

“Easy access.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

We clinked our bottles and drained them, then left our empties on the counter and tried to pay for our drinks, but Harper just waved us off.

The night air had a slight nip to it as we stepped outside. Summer was finally moving into autumn. Dipping her toes in, at least. We drove to the motel we were staying at on the outskirts of the city. I could read Garrett’s mind. A nap was in order if we were going to be fucking later.

As soon as we closed the door on our room, the clothes came off, and we tumbled into bed, all arms and legs, until we got settled. We faced one another and launched into a sensuous kiss.

Garrett’s fingers carded through my hair as we were slow to devour and taste, the essence of beer lingering between us. Then Garrett held me close and nuzzled against my neck.

“Just let me set an alarm,” I said as I twisted, lifting my phone off the bedside table. I set it for 1 a.m. then returned to Garrett’s arms. He was already nodding off.

I wasn’t far behind.

I was pulled from an incredible dream about building a new indoor arena when my alarm went off. Garrett wasn’t in bed. I could hear him in the bathroom, the taps running.

He wandered out into the room in the nude, his dick at half-mast. I nearly whistled; it was such a sight to see. He walked right up to the edge of the bed.

It was a routine of ours. I shuffled to the edge of the bed and looked up at him as I dragged my tongue along his dick, then sucked and sipped on his cockhead. The game was to make each other hard without bringing either of us to climax. I grasped his dick and sucked on it.

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After years of friendship, silence, and fear, two rodeo cowboys finally wake up in each other’s arms knowing the truth they can’t hide anymore—they’re in love.

But choosing each other means facing down a conservative ranching town, disapproving parents, lost livelihoods, and a future that will have to be built from scratch.

As they trade the safety of secrecy for a life lived openly, Garrett and Dirk discover that loving a man isn’t the hard part—defending that love against the world is. Together, they’ll have to decide if the life they’ve always known is worth losing for the one they’ve only just begun.

In the last installment of Rodeo Boys

In the first installment of Rodeo Boys

Waking up next to Garrett was the most thrilling thing that ever happened in my life. More than the sex, more than our first kiss. This here, the man in my arms, was the man I loved.

Garrett snuggled against me, breathing softly against my neck. We’d fallen asleep with my arm around him. It had lost all feeling hours ago, but there was no way I was going to move it. I wanted to hold him forever. I brushed my fingers through the hair at his temple.

He stirred, shimmied closer, and smiled.

“Morning, Dirk.” His voice was sleepy and sexy like smooth velvet on the ears.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

Garrett chuckled, then sighed. “Please tell me we don’t have to get up.”

“No can do. We have horses to attend to.”

“Ugh.”

I smiled at him, and he opened his eyes. My heart skipped a few beats. His loving gaze wrapped me in so much pure adoration that I felt as if I would gladly stop breathing for him.

Garrett kissed my shoulder. “Love you.”

I cradled his face in my palm and shifted to kiss him. It was a soft, gentle, solitary kiss, yet filled with so much loyalty and love. “I love you, too.”

“It’s nice to finally be able to say it. I’ve been holding onto it for far too long.”

I pressed my forehead to his. “I wasn’t sure I was there yet. I knew I was headed that way, but something … maybe fear stopped me from acknowledging and naming what I was feeling.”

Garrett placed his hand on my chest. “But you’re definitely there now.”

I kissed his forehead. “Without question.”

“So, what does that make us? Boyfriends?”

I laughed. “Never thought I’d have one of those. Figured my romantic life was destined to consist of marrying some suitable girl from town and having a bunch of babies.”

Garrett ran his fingers through my chest hair. “Me too, but this is so much better.” He brushed his bristly cheek along the skin of my shoulder. “What happens when we get back home?”

I hugged him tightly. “It woke me up, thinking about that. I think we’ll need our own place. We can’t keep living in sin in my parents’ farmhouse.”

I chuckled to let him know I wasn’t serious about the sin part. Entering a loving relationship with my best friend was the purest thing a man could do.

“Have we got enough money? I’ve been saving up a fair chunk of change because boarding with your parents has been incredibly reasonable on the pocketbook.”

“Me, too. We just need to find somewhere I can move my business and our horses to.”

“I guess I’ll be out of a job.”

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“Yeah, I can’t see my dad keeping you on after hearing you’re fucking his son.”

“Jeezus, this is going to mess things up between you and your family.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care. You’re more important to me than they are.”

Garrett lifted his head. “Really?”

I rolled him onto his back and kept him pinned with my body. My numb arm was buzzing like a son of a bitch. I rested my entire weight on Garrett to compensate and kissed him.

Now that I’d had a taste of his lips, I never wanted to leave them. The more I devoured them, the stiffer our cocks grew. I undulated my hips, jamming my shaft against his.

We didn’t have enough time to make love—we’d gone beyond simply fucking. But we did have time to get each other off. Garrett wrapped his arms around my neck, then into my hair, holding my head as we kissed. I thrust against him, up and back, our dicks compressed and thick; the dry friction creating a sensation of urgency because it bordered on painful.

Garrett grunted beneath me and jammed his hips up, and spilled gloriously into the space between us, making our bellies slick and easy for me to glide alongside his throbbing cock.

I pumped faster, digging in and driving my dick harder until I blissed out and shot my load, joining Garrett’s in the sticky mess that was borne of our love for one another.

I rolled off Garrett and stared up at the ceiling. “We need to get going. I can hear them getting anxious and frustrated out there. I hope the fans were on all night.”

“I would have got up. Thought about it.” Garrett smiled at me. “Didn’t want to leave you.”

I sat up. “Now, we have to get out of this love nest we’ve made up here.”

“Shower?”

“No time. Plus, I don’t trust myself to keep my hands off you. We’ll clean up with a couple of wet wipes. We can shower after the horses are settled.”

“Are we going to compete today? I’m not really feeling it.”

“Yeah … no.” I shrugged. “I’d rather go home and start looking at real estate.”

Garrett sat and shimmied off the end of the bed, headed for the steps. “When are we going to tell everyone back home what is going on between us?”

Once Garrett was down the steps, I followed behind him. He retrieved the package of wipes from the bathroom and handed me two.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to wait. I want to live with you right away.”

“Where?”

I lifted my hand. “How about in here. We can park on the property alongside the barn … we’ve had so much sex in … and live out of the trailer until we can find a place of our own.”

“That’s not going to go over well.” Garrett wiped the cum off his stomach and his cock.

I did the same. “They don’t have a choice. My name is on the land title. They can’t kick me off my own land. The farmhouse, the barn … everything is mine. It was a business decision my dad thought was best.”

“Wow, I had no idea. Look at you, my very own landowner. So, we’re not really in a rush. We can take our time and find the perfect spot to start our lives together.”

God, that sounded good—start our lives together.

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I wrapped Garrett up in my arms and hugged him. His arms around me felt so good and destined, like we were always meant to be together. Like we were two flickers of the same flame.

Garrett patted my back. “Let’s get dressed. Those horses are getting restless.” On cue, there was a bang from the horse-hauling end of the trailer. We both hurried to dress.

Stepping out into the morning sun felt good. And different from what it had done during any other time in my life. The light was cheerier; the scents more pleasant.

I felt more alive than ever.

I was in love, and it was coloring my entire world.

The horses were thrilled to get out of the trailer. We led them off, tied them to the side panel, and sorted out their food and water. We worked in tandem like a well-oiled machine.

As they ate, we gave them a good brush down. They snorted and huffed as they ate, their muscles sometimes quivering when we started to brush a new area of their bodies.

We would hang around at the rodeo grounds for part of the day. Let the horses have some time outdoors before we trailered them up and headed for home.

I would never let on, but I was nervous about how my family would react when I brought Garrett home as my boyfriend, after we left two days before as simply friends.

My dad was going to be furious. No son of his would be gay. He’d uttered those words any time any gay pride-related news would come on the television. I’d asked him what he would do if he did have a gay son. His answer, he wouldn’t be my son anymore.

My mom had objected to his harsh response, saying she’d love her son just the same as always, but would encourage him to seek help to ungay himself. That it could be cured.

Gay. Not gay. Bisexual. I didn’t care. I was in love with a man, and it felt damned good.

I put my hand on Garrett’s shoulder and kissed him right out in the open. And he didn’t object in the slightest. He wrapped his arms around my waist and danced me up against the trailer.

This is what being in love felt like. Like the world could take a hike and let us express what we were feeling toward one another. Nosy people be damned. Let them talk.

And they would. Our new relationship would race around the rodeo circuit. The sex we’d had with straight men had been kept secret—for obvious reasons. This was different.

Garrett and I were a couple. A couple deeply in love.

“Hah, I knew it.”

I looked over Garrett’s shoulder at Austin, who was watching us with his hands on his hips, his big cowboy hat shielding his eyes from the sun. He was like pure sex on a stick.

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“I knew you two were in love. Yesterday was all kinds of fucked up. The sex was hot until you both started staring at each other. Went right off the rails after that.”

I slipped my hand down Garrett’s arm and held his hand as he turned around. “It was a long time coming. Lots of denial and fear until we finally got it sorted.”

“So, it’s the real thing?” Austin tipped his head.

“Absolutely,” Garrett replied. “We’ll be moving ahead as partners from here on out.”

Austin let out a breath, almost a whistle. “Folks ‘round here aren’t going to like it.”

I gripped Garrett’s arm. “We don’t care. It’s our life.”

“We want to spend it together,” Garrett added, finishing my thought.

“What about your business?” Austin crossed his arms.

I exhaled. I knew the score. I’d lose clients … I knew that. But most of these monied folks were more liberal than the Christian-right, blue-collar crowd. More accepting. We’d be fine.

“I’m sure enough of my clients will stick around. And I’ll get new ones who find our lifestyle of same-sex bliss refreshing in our conservative town.”

“I sure hope so.”

“We’ll be okay,” Garrett said to me. “Maybe I can get a job at a different ranch.”

I nodded. “There are quite a few of them around. Surely, one of them is run by someone with an open mind. You could try Everett’s farm to start.”

“Will do. He’s a great guy.” Garrett raised our joined hands and kissed my knuckles. It felt good to think of him as my partner … officially. We’d been aligned for many years. Garrett had been my best friend in high school. We’d done everything as a team of two.

Falling in love and starting a life together felt destined.

“You guys done for the weekend?” Austin asked.

“Yeah, we’re going to head home,” Garrett replied, clinging tighter to my hand. “We have a lot of things to face and plans to make now that we’re together.”

“How are your folks gonna take it?” Austin asked me.

“Terrible.”

Austin nodded and looked at Garrett. “And yours?”

“My parents don’t care what I do.”

“That sucks.” Austin wrinkled his nose. “Well, best of luck to you. Give me a holler if there’s going to be a wedding and you want a surprise on your wedding night.”

Garrett and I both chuckled. I wouldn’t put it past Austin to make our wedding night much more interesting than being two husbands alone.” I slapped my hand to my forehead.

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Slow your roll, buddy.

Marriage was so far down the line and might not even exist as an option. Austin left us to scramble around and make some breakfast. Bacon, eggs, and pancakes were on the menu. Once we cleaned up and packed everything away, we loaded the horses back into the trailer.

They weren’t impressed. They loved competing. Got a real burst of energy and excitement over it. They whinnied and stomped their feet as we drove past the arena.

We listened to music as I drove, Garrett softly singing the words. I loved his voice. Singing like this and singing my name when we made love. I briefly looked over at him.

Such a handsome beast of a man.

And he was mine. I reached for his hand and took it. We stayed like that until I took my hand back so I could pull off the road into a rest stop. We climbed out of the truck’s cab and made our way into the human end of the trailer. We’d deal with the horses after lunch.

Garrett had other ideas as I set about making us a couple of sandwiches. He wandered up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and kissed the back of my neck.

I hummed as he held me, but kept buttering the slices of bread.

He swayed his hips back and forth against my ass until his obvious hard-on was pressing against my crease. I reached back for him over my shoulder and gripped his neck.

“You’re distracting me.”

“That was the plan.”

“I’m trying to make lunch.”

“The only thing I want to eat is you.”

“I gathered that.”

I closed my eyes and moaned quietly when he lowered his hands and undid my jeans. I set down the butter knife and clung to the edge of the counter with my unburdened hand.

Garrett squatted behind me as he stripped my jeans and underwear off and jammed them down around my ankles. He kissed my tailbone. I separated my legs as best I could. Garrett was satisfied because he spread open my cheeks and laid a delicate lick across my hole.

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Dirk and Garrett have been best friends and fuck buddies for years—raw, no-strings rodeo hookups in barns, trailers, and back alleys, always together, no kissing, no emotions. They’ve chased the thrill of breaking straight cowboys, turning forbidden encounters into sweaty, savage releases.

But lately, the rules are fracturing: tender kisses on necks, lingering touches, moments too intimate to dismiss.

After an explosive afternoon of bareback breeding in a sweltering RV, Garrett’s distance grows. A wild foursome with twins Austin and Nash in an abandoned trailer pushes boundaries further—chaps, reins, shared holes—until jealousy and unspoken longing explode. Garrett bolts into the rain for a brutal, anonymous fuck, forcing Dirk to confront the truth: their “just buddies” game has become something deeper, something dangerous.

In the steam of a late-night shower, confessions spill—Garrett’s love, Dirk’s fear, the life-altering risks of coming out in cattle country. As lips finally meet and bodies entwine without barriers, they choose each other over everything: the ranch, the rodeo, the world that demands they hide. What started as casual fucking ends in raw, committed love—messy, heartbreaking, and utterly worth it.

In the last installment of Rodeo Boys.

In the first installment of Rodeo Boys.

Garrett rolled over onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes, breathing heavily. His skin was glistening with sweat, his hair damp—his cock lying spent atop his thigh. He sighed, set one hand on his stomach, and used his forearm to wipe the perspiration from the bridge of his nose.

I closed my eyes, exhausted. Garrett had been pummeling my ass, riding me bareback—breeding me gloriously raw for much of the afternoon in the stifling heat. The brand-new air conditioning unit in the RV was on the fritz and was withholding any significant cooling for the duration of Garrett's attempts to wear me out.

I twisted my wrists within the restraints Garrett had used to secure me face down on his bed, a pull-out couch next to the dining area. A trickle of sweat ran down from my hairline and across my lips. I licked it away along with the load of cum Garrett had smeared on my lips.

The RV had been excruciatingly stifling before we'd even started, but that hadn't stopped us. The steer-wrestling event had ended at half-past noon, and we'd barely made it back to the RV with our clothes intact.

The sight of Garrett wrestling steers to the ground during the bulldogging event had given me such an intense hard-on that I'd had to jump down from the guardrail to keep anyone from seeing how turned on my cock was by my buddy's display of strength and skill.

Watching Garrett leap off his horse, down onto those steer—had conjured images of him doing the same to me. Leaping on me, pinning me down,—fucking me into oblivion. Garrett could subdue me with minimal effort compared to the six-hundred-pound beasts he'd taken down today.

Typically, I would've been out there with Garrett, but my horse had come up lame, so Garrett had decided, rather than withdraw from the event, to chat up a few guys and find himself a new hazer. He'd been lucky to find one willing. Retired, mind you, but skilled. Garrett had achieved 3.5 seconds as his best score for the event. Not fast enough to win, but a respectable time.

Seeking relief from the stifling heat and dampness, I attempted to catch a proper breath by lifting my head and shifting my ass atop the pillow Garrett had placed beneath my hips. Lazy rivulets of warm cum escaped my battered hole, further coating my balls.

Garrett grunted, righted himself, and climbed back on top of me, slipping his semi-erect cock into my ass. There was no resistance, just his cock dipping in and out of my slick, gaping hole.

He adjusted his position, not satisfied, and grasped the slippery flesh of my ass and drove both thumbs in alongside his cock, filling the space somewhat. His hips slammed against my ass, his fingers digging into my skin, his thumbs stretching me wider.

More of the cum he'd filled me with oozed onto the pillow.

Determined to punish me further, Garrett pushed on my thighs until my knees were bent up beneath me. My hips ached as he thrust into me one final time.

He slipped his cock from my ass but left one of his thumbs in place, the fingers of his left hand playing along the edges of my hole. I grunted as he pressed a cupped hand partway into my ass. We'd never done much fisting, but my ass was prime for it after the beating it had taken.

I rocked forward, struggling to my knees, and allowed Garrett to explore deeper into my hole. I shut my eyes as he tested my pain-pleasure boundary. I knew he wouldn't go further without the proper amount of lube, but the depth he was currently at stirred my desire for more.

"Please …" I whispered as I squirmed to better position myself. Garrett hesitated behind me in silence, then rotated his hand inside me, causing me to clench my jaw to avoid crying out.

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His hand slipped away, and his sweaty chest came to rest on my back, knocking me off my knees, flat onto the bed again. He nuzzled the skin behind my ear. His lips, his teeth—his hot breath welcome despite the heat.

"Maybe later," he sighed against the back of my neck, and kissed it, then reached up and released my restraints.

As he withdrew, rolled off me, and stretched out on his back, I groaned with a combination of disappointment and exhilaration as a breeze of relative cool swept across my skin.

"Damn air conditioner." I rose to my feet and walked over to the useless piece of machinery meant to keep our confined space cool. "Not that I mind getting sweaty with you, but—"

I turned toward the bed, the rustling sound of sheets behind me alerting me to the fact that Garrett was headed for the shower with no acknowledgment as to whether he'd heard me.

We'd been on the rodeo grounds since Friday morning, and Garrett had avoided most of my attempts to engage him in any conversation beyond, 'Fuck me harder.'

I grabbed the towel we'd tossed off to one side of Garrett's bed and attempted to clean myself off somewhat. My balls, my cock, the skin of my ass, my back, my stomach… nearly every inch of me was coated in cum, both his and mine. Combined with my own perspiration, I was a mess.

I slid the bathroom door open, releasing a cloud of steam.

"I'm going to open some windows," I said to Garrett through the glass of the shower stall. "Maybe we'll be able to catch some airflow."

"Sure. Whatever."

I threw the towel at the dirty laundry hamper in frustration. Garrett's lack of engagement in our usual jovial banter was pushing me beyond a state of mild irritation. "Once I've done that, I'm going to throw open the side door and step outside so the breeze can cool my balls."

I could hear Garrett snort in amusement. Then he was quiet again. I'd planned on joining him in the shower, but that was out of the question now.

"Fine," I whispered to myself, then slid the bathroom door closed with more force than I'd intended. It bounced, slamming against the frame, causing it to open again.

"Hey," Garrett shouted from the shower. "Watch the door."

"It's my goddamn door," I whispered to myself and pulled a shirt on over my head. "I'm going to grab a cold beer. I'll see you out front." I yanked my jeans on.

"Aren't you going to have a shower—?"

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Barefoot and shirtless, I slammed the exterior screen door behind me, mumbling, "Not when it's occupied by someone who can barely look at me when he's not fucking me."

I ran my hand through my sweat-dampened hair and cracked open the cold beer I'd grabbed from the fridge inside, and held it to my forehead.

Garrett's change in behavior … it had started when he'd bent me over that Gator in the fields of my family's ranch. Then the restroom stall, breathing hard down the back of my neck, kissing it, nibbling, and sucking at my ear. So incredibly intimate …so unlike him.

I sank into one of the lawn chairs beneath our shade canopy and set the beer on the ground. "Fuck." I bent forward, supporting myself on my knees, and put my face in my hands.

I honestly felt like I was losing him. The kiss he'd just laid on the back of my neck before letting me up from his bed had felt very much like a goodbye.

"Hey, Dirk …buddy!" A smiling face with a mop of curly, blond hair haphazardly jammed beneath a battered straw Stetson peered under the canopy. "I hoped I'd find you guys at home."

He looked around. "Where's Garrett?"

I lifted my beer from the ground and took a swig. "In the shower. We spent all afternoon fucking in my brand-new glorified sweatbox …" I cocked my head toward the RV.

Austin was fully aware of the extra-curricular relationship Garrett and I had. He'd joined us numerous times in the past. Austin wasn't our usual pursuit; he identified as unequivocally gay, but he was always the perfect amount of kinky to sway us.

"Pretty sweet rig," Austin said. "Your air broke already?"

I smirked. "Probably overstressed the thing. Couldn't exactly open the windows with Garrett being as loud as he usually is."

"True, true." Austin set his hands on his hips. "I could look at it. As you well know, I'm talented with my hands …including working with machinery."

A voice behind me, "Hey, Austin."

I looked over my shoulder. Garrett had emerged wearing nothing but a towel. He was grinning, seemingly in a fantastic mood, unlike the sullen attitude I'd been putting up with.

My grip tightened around my beer. I was about to take off toward the stables to check on the horses when my eye caught a goddamn carbon copy of Austin striding across the camping area toward us, brushing at his dusty chaps to knock clumps of dirt free.

"Austin?" I blinked, not certain if I was seeing things. Garrett had fucked me into a state of mind-altering euphoria, but it had long since passed. "Austin …do you have a twin?"

I peered over my shoulder at Garrett. He had the same glimmer in his eye, I'm sure I was sporting—along with a rapid onset hard-on.

"You never thought to mention this?" I asked Austin as I turned back to face him.

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Austin simply laughed and ushered his twin beneath the shade canopy to join us. "Guys, this is my brother, Nash. Nash, these are the two I was telling you about, Dirk and Garrett."

Nash nodded his acknowledgment, tipping his hat, then looked off into the distance. He might look precisely like Austin, but his twin's gregarious personality seemed to have bypassed him.

"Beer," Garrett asked from behind me. Upon Austin and Nash's positive response, Garrett must have dropped his towel before stepping back into the RV, because Austin let out a low, appreciative whistle. Whereas Nash looked as if he were about to pass out.

There was no way Garrett's long, thick cock would've remained soft with the prospect of fucking around with twins.

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Dirk and Garrett have been best friends and secret fuck buddies since high school—no labels, no kissing, just raw, hungry sex whenever they want it. They hit the rodeo circuit chasing broncs, steers, and straight cowboys willing to cross the line for one intense, forbidden release.

A rain-drenched breakdown strands them with rugged saddle bronc rider Blake. Garrett drops to his knees without hesitation, pulling Blake into their game while Dirk watches, aching. What starts as seduction turns wild—mouths, reins, spurs, shared holes—until boundaries shatter and touches between Dirk and Garrett grow dangerously tender.

As Blake bolts into the night, the truth hits hard: months of hidden test results, unnecessary condoms, and unspoken pain. On the long road ahead, their “just buddies” rule is crumbling. The biggest risk isn’t getting caught—it’s admitting what they’ve both wanted all along.

In the first installment of Rodeo Boys:

Garrett had been quiet for much of the six-hour drive, only turning his attention away from the road ahead when I cranked the stereo and started singing or suggested we stop somewhere and have something to eat—or have a fuck break.

My sexually insatiable buddy was always up for a good fucking.

And I was happy to oblige him.

The last stop we'd made, though …what had unfolded between us had been unexpected. Incredibly hot—but surprising …and confusing.

The restroom of a diner. We'd finished eating, paid our check, and finished up at the urinals. While I'd been washing my hands, Garrett had stepped up behind me, his breath ragged—hesitant almost, his heated intention cascading then faltering against the back of my neck.

My breath quickened.

Garrett had watched me intently in the mirror, his eyes locked on mine as he'd tossed our hats onto the countertop and pulled me backward into a restroom stall.

His movements had been urgent but gentle, his tongue wetting the fine hairs at the base of my neck, his mouth savoring my skin—groaning, panting, his teeth teasing the back of my ear, his hands securing me tight against his chest.

I'd reached back and grabbed a handful of his hair, overcome by my desire for him to possess me as he'd done the day before, bent over the hood of that Gator—riding me, devouring me.

I licked my lips.

In that diner's seedy, dimly-lit restroom stall, he'd caressed my cock through my jeans with the heel of his hand as he thrust up against my ass, his cock growing and firming—hardening.

He'd unlatched my buckle and button, unzipped my fly, and taken a firm grip of my cock, stroking it until my hard flesh had filled his fist.

Then he'd released me and made his way back to the truck without explanation. He'd left me standing there with a raging erection.

I shifted in my seat, adjusting my cock.

…much like the one I had now.

"Eyes on the road, Dirk." Garrett reached over and turned the radio off. The light was fading, but we'd decided to drive straight through and not stop for the night.

Now I wasn't so sure. It had begun to rain, and the wet road ahead was reflecting the bright lights of every passing car into my eyes.

Garrett tossed the toothpick he'd been chewing on for the past hour into an empty cup-holder. "Let me drive for a few hours. You can close your eyes for a bit." I could practically hear him grinning. "I promise I won't hurt your baby."

He patted the dashboard of the new F-450 Diesel I'd picked up last week to haul my new horse trailer and home on wheels. The Lakota Bighorn with four-horse capacity was overkill for just the two of us, but my side business breeding and training working stock horses and those used for stock horse competitions was doing well—really well.

I figured Garrett and I deserved a little comfort when we were out on the road, engaging in our new favorite pastime—cruising for straight guys on the rodeo circuit.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. We would need to stop and tend to the horses soon. We'd brought Mason, my prized wrestling and roping quarter horse, and Garrett's bronc, Apollo, a quarter horse he used primarily for bucking.

"Maybe," I replied.

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Garrett leaned forward in his seat and pointed out through the front windshield. "Those hazard lights up ahead …does it look like a truck and trailer to you?"

"Yeah, definitely." I scanned the right-hand side of the road. There wasn't much room to pull off, but I couldn't with a good conscience roar past a guy and his horse trailer on the side of the road.

The fading light had disappeared, turning an eerie, pitch-black, and the rain was pelting down heavier than before. It would make for a miserable night if the guy had to hunker down roadside.

I smirked. Perhaps we could brighten up the cowboy's night on a few counts.

I flicked my blinker on and pulled over in front of his truck, ensuring the entire ass-end of my thirty-six-foot trailer was off the road. Garrett grabbed his hat and coat, leaped out of the truck ahead of me, and made his way toward the guy climbing out of his battered pick-up truck.

Walking toward the two of them, my flashlight illuminated them both, and a low purring growl passed my lips. He was older, late-thirties. Rugged. Sleek afternoon shadow—black with flecks of gray, deep lines etched into his face after years of living on the range, and a well-worn, oilskin cowboy hat and duster, darkening with rivulets of water, clinging to his muscular frame.

My gut warmed at the sight of him. We needed to have him.

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Dirk and Garrett have been inseparable since high school—dorm mates, best friends, and each other’s favorite way to blow off steam.

No labels, no romance, just raw, hungry sex whenever the mood hits. They don’t kiss. They don’t cuddle. They fuck like it’s the most natural thing two straight-identifying cowboys can do.

Now pushing thirty, they hit the rodeo circuit hard: bucking broncs by day, hunting curious “straight” guys by night. Country bars and trailer hookups become their playground. They lure in rugged men who swear it’s just one time—until they’re moaning, shaking, and coming harder than they ever have. Each conquest is dirtier, hotter, more addictive than the last.

But something’s shifting. A lingering touch, a soft bite on the neck, moments too tender for their rules. The road ahead is long, the risks are climbing, and the line they’ve drawn between “just buddies” and something real is starting to blur.

In a world that demands they stay hidden, the biggest danger might not be getting caught—it’s finally facing what they’ve both been chasing all along.

Garrett and I had known each other since the senior year of high school. After that, we'd gone to college together. Shared a dorm room. It was somewhere during that time, not sure when, that we started fucking. Not boyfriend—boyfriend fucking. Just a couple of buddies getting each other off.

I'm definitely not gay. Maybe bisexual—maybe something else entirely. All I know is my best friend knows how to suck cock better than any girlfriend I've ever had, and I get an insane rush every time his cock fills my ass and pounds it into submission.

Now in our late twenties, we've started cruising. Hitting the rodeo circuit. Partially because we love bronc riding and steer wrestling, and partly because the rodeo grounds and local country bars are prime hunting grounds for tracking down straight guys who are willing to walk the line with us—experiment. Let us show them what it feels like to really cum.

Intense, convulsive, soul-shattering surges of relentless, mind-blowing cum.

—but that's just my experience.

—and Garrett's.

—and most everyone else we've lassoed into joining us.

"What the hell are you daydreaming about now?" Garrett jostled me, propelling me toward the back of my horse, Mason's stall. "Dirk, I'm not mucking out this entire barn for you."

"Sorry, dude …distracted." I dragged my bare arm across my forehead to wipe away the perspiration and grime. Summer had been brutal this year—mid-eighties since June. Jeans, my favorite boots, and a white, sleeveless shirt had been my uniform of choice, much like today.

I smirked and unlatched my belt buckle, a sound that always set my heart racing. "Care to regain my attention?" I undid the button on my jeans and unzipped the fly.

Garrett was quick. Always was. He leaned his stall fork against the wall and shoved Mason's hind end out of the way so he would have sufficient space.

He peered out past the other stalls toward the large, open doors of my family's barn. The coast must've been clear because he was on his knees in the sawdust before I'd even pulled my cock out. His rough hands retrieved it for me, stretching my jeans open wider—his thick, paw-like hands gripped my balls and pulled my foreskin tight to my body as his mouth encased my soft cock.

He hummed around it, anxious—greedy.

Garrett loved cock.

Loved it in his mouth.

Loved it in his ass.

I nearly tipped forward, the power of his mouth drawing me to steady myself by placing my hands on his shoulders. He ran the tip of his tongue around the ridge of my cockhead, gently savoring it, and sucked my soft cock into his mouth.

His chin pressed against my balls, then pulled away—his lips and tongue sucking and teasing until my cock stiffened.

It didn't take long.

I removed my shirt and draped it over the divider between Mason's stall and the next one over, and dropped my head back against the rough wood of the stall's wall.

"Fuck, you're good." I touched the top of Garrett's head, ruffling his curly, brown hair, then gripped a handful of it within my fist and hauled him forward, forcing him to take the full length of my rock-hard cock into his mouth.

The tip of my cock struck the resistance I was craving.

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I held steady until he coughed and gagged on my cock, then released him. He grabbed my thighs, his fingers clinging to the fabric of my jeans. He wanted more.

I took his head in both hands and jammed my cock into his mouth, fucking him until he had tears running down his cheeks and snot coating his lips.

I looked down at him as he slurped and licked his way along my shaft. As he made his way back to the tip of my cock, his face glistened in the faint light of the barn's inadequate illumination.

I liked him dirty. The dirtier, the better ...his grubby face staring up at me, his big brown eyes blinking—wet and hungry. He released my thighs, clung to my cock with one hand, and lifted it flat against my stomach so he could get at my balls.

I groaned and balanced myself by placing a hand on the wall behind me as he savored each of my balls, taking his time, pulling them down and away from my body—dampening and warming them. Licking the coarse hair there until it became plastered to my skin. Growling as he released each one to take the other back in his mouth—using his rough hands to squeeze them.

He pressed his hand to the swelling beneath his own jeans, rubbing—massaging, grunting with arousal. Garrett loved sucking on a guy's balls almost as much as he loved sucking cock. I loved the sounds he made. Crude, guttural—fucking savage.

I gripped his throat, hauled him to his feet, and spat in his face.

Dirtier. So much dirtier.

I turned him to face the corner of the stall, shoved him toward it, reached around, and undid his pants. I yanked them down, right to the ground, and stared down at what I'd revealed.

The thick, dark hair on his ass always caused my cock to throb.

When I was fucking that ass, there was no doubt I was fucking a guy. The hair, the powerful ass muscles—the low grunts and growls that erupted from Garrett… It was a high like no other.

His ass was perfect.

I slapped it, startling him.

"Whoa, buddy." I grinned. "You're a bit skittish today."

"Hardly." Garrett spread his legs as wide as he could, given that his pants were still around his ankles. "Just fuck me already, would you."

"Maybe." I grabbed hold of his ass with both hands, crushing the flesh within my grasp. Damn, it was hot. I could keep fucking his ass all day if he let me.

I released him and wrapped my hand around the aching girth of my own cock, stroking it slow—steady. The temptation to drive it straight into his ass was overwhelming. I took a deep breath and delicately stroked my forefingers along the sensitive creases between Garrett's balls and inner thighs. An area of his body that always made him squirm.

"Damn, Dirk …" He tucked his ass up and away, then released it back to me. Fresh, glossy pre-cum pooled in the slit of my cock. I rubbed my thumb over it and brought the clear, slick liquid to my mouth. I closed my eyes, reveling in the taste.

I'd be given more, from Garrett's cock, the next time we fucked. When I'd descend upon him and take his cock into my mouth—take his cock into my ass.

"Do you have condoms in your wallet?" I asked Garrett. Stupid question, but I did not intend to retrieve one from my own wallet, which was in the back pocket of my jeans. Jeans that had worked their way down onto my boots. "Bend over and get them, would you?"

Garrett made a noise best described as a combination of arousal, amusement, and irritation. Not sure how he managed it, but it made my balls tighten. I placed my hands on his hips to keep him from toppling over as he dug in his wallet.

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"Here." He passed the purple, square wrapper up to me, but kept himself bent over, stabilizing himself by placing both of his hands on the walls of the corner in front of him.

We typically didn't bother with condoms when it was just the two of us. But Garrett had slipped up, got drunk … fucked someone bareback. Girl or guy …he wouldn't tell me.

I wouldn't say it had upset me …not really. I didn't own him, but his going out drinking on his own wasn't like him. And getting so drunk, he'd become reckless… It had stunned me.

I cleared the concern from my mind, and knowing Garrett was secure against the wall, I removed one hand from his hip, wet my thumb, and ran it down the crease of his ass. I used my thumb to stroke the anxious, pulsing hole I desperately wanted to fill.

Circling it—rewetting it.

Causing us both to heave through every breath.

He didn't plead for me to start fucking him. I know he wanted to, but he didn't. Garrett could become noisy if he allowed himself to start begging for cock, and we needed to stay quiet. There was no telling when my dad or one of the farmhands might wander into the barn and catch us. It had only happened once, years ago, but the fallout had been epic.

Mason turned in the stall to get at his water, nearly knocking me off my feet. "Mason, watch it." I gave him a nudge to regain our piece of ground at the back of the stall. It wasn't an ideal location, but even so, the stalls and tack room in the horse barn were favorites of ours. An element of danger increased our arousal for one another.

Not that we needed any additional encouragement.

I bit my bottom lip and exhaled in wonder. Contracting and expanding, opening for me, Garrett's sweet hole was begging for attention. I spat at it, massaged the wetness into the eager ring, and used both hands to spread his cheeks wide enough to see everything.

My cock pulsed, dripping pre-cum onto the sawdust beneath our feet. His hole was beautiful and pink, flushed with anticipation. I pressed my thumb against it and slipped inside.

Only to the first knuckle.

Just enough to—

The muscles of his hole tightened around my thumb. So damn hot. My heart was racing. I couldn't wait any longer. I wanted him—I wanted him now.

…right fucking now—

I ripped the condom wrapper open and let it drop to the ground. I'd find it later. My cheek twitched in irritation as I donned the irritating latex, my impulse to ride Garrett bareback at severe odds with the skin-tight bondage being inflicted upon my cock.

The condom rolled into place. I rubbed the length of my cock between Garrett's muscular thighs, jamming the impatient tip against his full, low-hanging balls—then back up again.

Garrett's breathing quickened, and he shifted his hips, then reset the placement of his hands. Lying my hand on the small of his back, I wrapped the other around my cock and put slow, steady pressure on his hole. Garrett exhaled, steadying his breath, and the tense ring relaxed.

—somewhat.

Garrett was always so damn tight—a familiar, soft grip, cautious to encase my cock. It was a beautiful sight watching my cock be dragged into his ass, his body yearning to be filled.

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"Ready, buddy?" It was a courtesy. If Garrett weren't ready, he would've placed one of his hands on the front of my thigh by now. After years of fucking each other, verbal communication wasn't necessary. We knew what the other needed without whispering a word.

"Mm-hm." Garrett undulated his hips, tipping his ass up, and braced himself, his biceps tightening into gorgeous knots of muscle. He wanted a thrashing.

I slammed my hips forward—once, spearing Garrett deep. He grunted but held his ground. I smirked as I gripped tighter to his hips and began battering him, time and again—thrusting and retreating—ruthless. My hips hitting his ass rapid, rhythmic —thundering. My cock slipped in and out of his ass, each time brutal but smooth, his hole encasing me in velvety warmth.

I stroked the clammy skin above his hips with my thumbs and slowed my assault so he could catch his breath. It also gave me an opportunity to listen for the sound of anyone approaching. Talking, the sound of boots …tractors—anything. It was silent other than the soft sounds of the barn owls up in the rafters, Mason's mild irritation, and Garrett's breathing.

I ran my hand up the length of his spine, bent my knees, and came up at him from a different angle, nearly slamming him into the wall. A low, guttural growl followed by a hearty laugh filled the small space between us. I grinned as I drilled Garrett again, hard, from the same angle, and kept pounding him until he was intermittently gasping and holding his breath.

He lowered one hand from the wall and grabbed his own cock with it.

I restrained myself, rocking and undulating my hips against his ass, still penetrating him deep but gentler. More precise. I concentrated on his subtle body language as he stroked himself.

His breathing turned into rapid, intense panting, his hand moving faster—urgent.

He was about to cum.

I wrapped my arms around his chest, supporting him as he placed his free hand further up the wall until he was nearly standing. He whispered my name as I jammed my cock high into his ass and held it in place, unmoving—steady …the position that would carry him over.

The first drops of Garrett's cum spat up into the air, splattering the back wall. I gripped his shoulder and adjusted the angle of his stance so I could run past his gland again.

Deep in his chest, a guttural groan had me wishing I could climb inside him to feel what it would feel like to have that sound surrounding me.

—the next wave erupted.

Garrett's shoulder blades hit my chest, his head tucked against my cheek as he shuddered through the final roller coaster. My cock had long since slid from his ass. I didn't care. Witnessing Garrett cum with such ferocity always outstripped any needs of my own.

Temporarily.

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Panting and laughing, Garrett slipped away from me, turned to face me, and rolled the condom off my cock. After wiping his hands on his thighs, he sank to his knees at my feet.

I didn't last as long as I'd hoped. Edging with Garrett was typically out of the question. The guy was too anxious to have cum coating his tongue and dripping from his lips. His undeniable talent for teasing cum from my balls in intense, escalating steps made it impossible to hold out.

I nearly bit my tongue as the rolling crest Garrett had been working me toward broke free, violently — convulsively. I shot the entirety of my warm load down his throat.

"Fuck …" I placed my hand on top of his head, steadying myself—light-headed as hell, my heart hammering in my chest, my cock still pulsing.

I managed to help him up, and without missing a step, as if nothing had happened, he yanked his pants up and used his shirt to wipe the spit and cum from his face.

"Okay. Stalls then lunch. I'm starving." Garrett shoved me in the shoulder, made his way around to the other side of Mason, and slid open the stall door. "I'll take him out to the paddock with his buddies, so you can finish mucking out in here. You've got the entire barn to finish."

"What time are you boys leaving in the morning?" My mom sat in the chair across from me at a teal, metal-rimmed Formica kitchen table that had been in our family's farmhouse since long before I was born. It was chipped and stained from decades of use and happy memories.

"Early." Garrett mopped up the last of the mushroom gravy on his plate with his fifth biscuit. "Probably around four."

My mom nodded her head at Garrett as affectionately as if I'd spoken. Garrett spent as much time in and around the farm as I did. Had done so since we first met in high school. My mom had been immediately drawn to him. She took him under her wing when she found out he came from a dysfunctional, alcoholic home. She'd fed him to bursting at least three nights each week.

Now Garrett lived on the property, sharing a workers' cottage with two other guys. My mom considered him family, which made us even more thankful that my dad had kept what he'd seen Garrett and me doing to each other to himself. As far as he was concerned, he'd put a stop to it.

If Garrett hadn't been one of the best beef cattle farmers my dad had ever worked with, he would've been out of a job. Me—my dad had kept an invasive eye on me as I'd gone about my day breeding and training stock horses for our ten-thousand-acre farm, plus quite a few others in our home state. A side business of mine that was thriving.

I looked over at Garrett. He had gravy running down his chin. It made me smile. I almost leaned over to remove the greasy mess with my thumb and suck it from my skin.

It would take a lot more than my dad's disapproval to make us stop. We were a couple of wranglers in the middle of cattle country who did not intend to fall in line with what that meant to him. Or what that meant to anyone else in the heartland township we lived in.

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"I still need to pack." I caught Garrett's eye and pointed to his chin. Instead of using one of the cloth napkins my mother insisted on having at each place setting during meals, Garrett scrubbed the heel of his hand across his chin, only managing to smear the gravy.

I would've loved his permission to clean away what he'd left on his chin with my tongue once we were out of sight, but that would've placed my mouth too close to his.

And that would've been out of the question.

No kissing. That was the unspoken rule.

Fucking was fucking.

Kissing meant something else entirely.

The screen door leading into the kitchen screeched and slammed, and a shadow fell across the table. I turned in my chair. It was my dad. He'd missed lunch, which was unusual, and you could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't pleased.

"I need you boys to mend a piece of fence along the southern perimeter of the range. About two miles out near the dense grove of pine." He scrubbed a slow hand across his face. "I spent the last hour and a half rounding up four of our heifers."

Garrett stood, knocking his chair backward in his haste. "Why didn't you call me?"

My dad dismissed him, waving his hand. "No time. I didn't see you around, so Dan and I took a couple of the horses out ourselves."

I looked over at Garrett. He was scowling. He took his job around the farm seriously. He'd spent four years in college earning his bachelor's degree in animal science. I had as well, but I was using mine for my side venture with the horses.

I could see he was beating himself up for not being available. My dad would've been looking for him right around the time he had my cock in his mouth.

"We'll head right out." I grabbed my tattered cowboy hat from the sideboard and was out the door before my dad added to the list of chores we had to finish before dark. We still had to sort through what was in the RV end of the horse trailer. We'd hauled the bedding and towels out to be washed last time we'd used them, but more than likely, we'd forgotten to empty the fridge.

Garrett jogged up alongside me. "Dirk, we've got to stop doing that …fucking around when we're supposed to be working."

I stopped and stared at him. "Fixing that fence shouldn't take long." I walked into the storage building near the cowshed and passed Garrett a spool of barbed wire and a few tools. "Then what work are we supposed to be doing? Because I can't think of anything …"

He peered over at me, his brow furrowing as he tossed everything into the cargo box of the Gator utility vehicle. It really wouldn't take long. I'd been out that way two days ago. Three of the posts had been loose. Holding but loose. It had been sheer luck that the heifers had found the weakness in the fence before I'd gotten around to fixing it.

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Garrett smirked. "Fine …I've always wanted to see you bent over the hood of this thing anyway," he patted the XUV, "… your ass splayed wide open in the daylight in the fields."

I grunted in amusement and slid into the driver's seat. I knew Garrett couldn't resist an opportunity to fuck me somewhere new. Responsibilities or not, we always found the time, and Garrett sounded legitimately enthusiastic despite his reservations.

My cock twitched, swelling at the thought of Garrett exposing my ass—fucking it where anyone might see us. It was risky, but there was no turning back. Not following through would be excruciating for both of us. Once we set our sights on something—or someone. That was it.

Garrett slipped into the passenger seat beside me and gripped tight to the grab-handle. I had a reputation for taking chances and driving too fast. Today would be no exception. Today, I had a damn good incentive to drive like a maniac.

I exhaled in surprise, sucking in a quick breath, and hazarded a glance at Garrett. He'd placed his hand on my lap, rubbing my cock sedately through my jeans with his palm.

He'd never done that before, foreplay well in advance of any actual fucking, and it was incredibly subtle, uncharacteristically so. I slowed and looked over at Garrett.

He was staring straight ahead as if there were nothing unusual happening.

I was about to say something when he licked his lips, changed the position of his hand, and used his fingers to stroke the full length of my cock, pressing harder as it swelled and expanded.

When Garrett undid the button of my jeans and unzipped my fly, I shot him a stunned glance and skidded to a stop a good two hundred feet from the fence. His sexual advances so unprecedented—that the rapid pounding of my heart was deafening.

I placed the Gator in Park as Garrett reached inside my jeans, slipped his hand beneath the band of my underwear, and grasped my cock, freeing it. I clung to the grab-handle on my side of the XUV as he lowered his face into my lap and began sucking.

This time, due to the empty expanse surrounding us, he made as much noise as he wanted.

"Mm …fuck." Garrett lifted his head and licked his lips, then circled the taut ridge of my cockhead with his tongue until I was bucking in my seat. He sat back, his breathing heavy, his cheeks flushed. "I'll never get tired of your cock …seriously."

I laughed. "You'll never get tired of anyone's cock."

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Garrett studied me quietly, then a smile spread across his face. "Yeah, you're probably right." I settled my head against the headrest, groaning. His hands were warm and rough, and he was bringing me close to the edge, but he wasn't intending on stroking me until I came.

We had other plans… Garrett, in particular. My ass clenched, and my hole contracted, pinching closed—then relaxing, ready to be exposed.

Ready to be used.

Garrett left the vehicle before me and felt the Gator's shamrock-green hood, presumably to make sure it wasn't too hot. He circled back, rooted around in the cargo box, and retrieved a couple of old burlap grain sacks. One he rolled up and placed along the bulky bumper, the other he spread out on the hood. We were really doing this.

I turned sideways in my seat, set my hat on the passenger seat, and removed my boots and socks before making my way over to where Garrett was leaning his ass on the hood, his jeans already undone. He tipped his hat forward on his head to shield his eyes from the sun. His warm, brown eyes watched me from beneath the brim, sparkling with arousal.

He motioned for me to remove my shirt and jeans. I did. I was too wound up to object to pretty much anything. I fell to my knees in the thick grass, nude, and lifted Garrett's cock into my mouth with my tongue, separating it from where it had lain nestled atop his balls.

I nearly groaned aloud—the taste—the texture. Semi-erect, the skin still loose… Folds and creases I could trace, taste …caress. I sighed, ecstatic. The sun felt good on my ass—the gentle breeze blowing past—dangerous, daring. I was at his mercy.

Pumping, slicking up his shaft with my mouth. Tightening—hardening as I sucked—the thick vein riding the flat of my tongue. Working every gorgeous inch of him. I gripped his hips and surged forward, descending fully on his rock-hard cock, wanting to feel him filling my mouth.

Filling my throat.

—Filling me in any way possible.

He laid a gentle hand on my head, tempering me. Still, the thick head of his cock pressed deliciously against the back of my throat. I inhaled the scent of his perspiration and arousal, relishing in it, and reached up under his shirt. I raked my fingers up through the dense hair on his chest and gripped one of his nipples, twisting it enough to make his stomach muscles tighten.

Keeping my lips tight around Garrett's shaft, I sucked his cock until I reached the tip, then teased the slit. I sipped at it and stuck my tongue inside, hoping to gather any pre-cum I'd missed. I caressed the smooth, tight ripples of his abs with my hand as I returned it to his hip.

I thrust his cock back into my mouth. He grabbed a handful of my hair and wrenched on it. His voice low—commanding. "Take it deeper." I took Garrett's cock in as far as I could—until my nose and lips were pressed tight against his body. Until I could no longer take a breath.

It was glorious.

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I linked my arms together behind my back, pitching my body forward. I had no way of pushing away from Garrett without breaking my self-restraint. My face was buried against him.

Helpless.

Garrett placed his hands on either side of my head, supporting it, and withdrew his cock—for a moment. I only managed a quick, sucking breath before Garrett forced my head back.

Thrusting upward, he jammed his cock deep into my throat and held my head so I couldn't escape. My lungs were screaming by the time he released me.

He knew me so well.

"Up." Garrett hauled me to my feet and pushed me toward the hood of the XUV. He gripped the back of my neck and shoved my face down onto the scratchy, musty-smelling burlap. I struggled to adjust my stance to accommodate the large front bumper.

Garrett grabbed hold of my balls and hauled them down and toward him. He didn't release them or relent in the force he was using until he'd positioned my cock where he wanted it. I'm assuming draped down in front of the green John Deere emblem.

Garrett had a sense of humor.

He tugged on my balls and cock, and continued pulling, stretching my flesh. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to cry out, but the extent of the pain Garrett was inflicting was challenging my threshold. He released them and smacked my ass.

Garrett obviously thought he wasn't challenging me enough. I heard the clink of his buckle and the distinct swish of a belt being removed from the loops of his jeans.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the first lash came down on my ass. I instinctively moved one of my hands to reach back …or push myself off the vehicle—anything.

"Whoa, whoa. None of that." Garrett's hand wrapped around one of my wrists and stretched my arm out so my hand was touching the windshield. "Other one too."

I hesitated, staring off across the green pastures. If I did as Garrett asked, pressed both hands to the windshield, my submission would be considered complete, meaning I agreed to whatever he'd dreamed up. Not that he would ever push me past what I could take or refuse to stop when I asked him to.

I lifted my other hand to the windshield and shut my eyes.

Crack—

I flinched and clenched my teeth—waiting, waiting for the next—

Crack—

I grunted and gripped the smooth surface of the glass beneath my fingertips.

Crack—

I jumped.

Crack—

I pressed my forehead to the hood of the vehicle. Garrett wasn't going easy on me.

Crack—

My cock hardened against the metal grate that was digging into my stomach just below my ribcage, making it difficult to catch my breath.

The subtle sound of Garrett dropping his belt to the grass at his feet calmed me. One of his fingers ran down my crease, then both hands were on my ass, spreading my cheeks open.

Then nothing. Garrett had stepped away.

"Hold your ass open for me." Garrett's voice was a fair distance away, but I couldn't see where because he was directly behind me. I adjusted my body on the hood, placing more pressure on my chest, and swung my arms around behind me. I looked out across the open, empty fields, then closed my eyes and spread my ass open with both hands.

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I could hear Garrett making a sound I hadn't heard before. Gasping—quivering. Growling—groaning. Purring. I opened my eyes again and scanned the horizon.

I thought I'd heard something.

"Garrett …" I moved to lift my head, but Garrett set his hand on my back.

"Shh …it's nothing." He set his hat down on the hood beside my face, blocking my view in that direction. I shut my eyes, calming myself, but desperate for him. His warm breath tickled my balls, and his hands replaced mine, holding my ass open.

Garrett hummed as he circled my hole with his tongue, wetting it—reveling in my reaction—teasing my desperation for him until my legs were trembling.

I moaned, heavy and desperate, tipping my ass up further, wanting more. His thumb entered my hole fully to the last knuckle, breaking my resolve to hold out as long as possible.

"Fuck me," I whispered. "Please …I can't—"

"Lightweight." Garrett patted my ass then stood. "Stay face down on the Gator."

The wait was excruciating as Garrett fumbled with a condom behind me. I touched the hot areas of the metal hood to distract myself.

The familiar touch of his cock between my legs eased my increasing anxiety over our lack of cover. His bare chest came to rest on my back, placing significant weight on me.

A coil of something foreign tightened in my gut, then unfurled, trembling as Garrett's tongue touched the back of my ear. I sighed and turned my head, wanting more of whatever experimentation he was embarking on. His teeth and hot breath skimmed across my earlobe—I shuddered. I reached back, placing my hand on the back of his head to keep him close.

I gripped his hair, swearing under my breath as his cock slipped into me and lifted my hips away from the front of the vehicle. His lips traveled from my earlobe to the sensitive skin on my neck beneath it, licking and kissing, the feel of them softer than I'd ever imagined.

Garrett nipped and licked at the skin along my neck, straight through to my shoulder. I shivered despite the heat in the air. Combined with the slow, steady rocking of his hips, I was experiencing something with him I never had before.

The beating of my heart felt as if it was faltering—escalating dangerously.

—And it scared me.

It was no surprise that neither one of us heard the truck engine shut off beside us. We'd both been immersed in the exhilarating new connection we'd made with one another.

It wasn't until a door slammed that we became aware of anyone entering our world. Neither one of us had easy access to our clothes. Especially me. I'd discarded mine on the ground at the driver's side of the Gator. The best I could do was step behind Garrett as he pulled his pants up.

Tapper turned his back to us, then peered over his shoulder and cleared his throat. "Your dad sent me to check on you boys …see how you're getting on with that there fence."

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"Not well," Garrett said. "As you can see, we haven't started yet." He reached behind his body and grabbed my ass. "Dirk assures me the repair will be easy …much like he is."

I shoved on the back of Garrett's shoulder with my hand. Granted, Tapper would stay quiet about what he'd seen, but Garrett was pushing it. Tapper wasn't some young, testosterone-filled cowboy looking to stick his cock into whatever willing, random hole was available to him.

"Garrett …don't you dare," I whispered.

I'd known Tapper since I was a teenager. He oversaw repairs and maintenance of the buildings, mostly. All you had to do was listen for the tapping sound, and you'd find Tapper. He'd been working for my dad for fifteen-some-odd years, living in the farmhand's quarters down by the cowshed—no wife, no kids …just a cowboy earning an honest living.

Garrett took a step toward Tapper. "When was the last time you wet that cock of yours?"

"Goddammit, Garrett …stop." I crowded up behind him. He was my only cover. I set my chin on Garrett's shoulder. Tapper had turned to face us, his brow furrowed in what appeared to be honest consideration. Maybe Garrett was on to something …but persuading one of my dad's farmhands, one I saw every day, to fuck me, was …bold.

Yes, bold—but not wrong.

The game Garrett and I played held very few plays we considered wrong.

I took a deep breath, walked back over to the XUV, and bent over the hood—and waited. Garrett's hand touched my ass, and my stomach jolted upward. I hadn't heard him approach, my heart thundering, drowning out much of the sound around me.

I clung to the burlap sack as Garrett leaned against the Gator, brushed his palms down my ass, and stretched me open, displaying my hole.

He brushed his thumb across it, causing it to pinch closed, then fall open. I desperately wanted someone's cock in there. Garrett—Tapper… I didn't care. I bit my bottom lip, panting—squirming.

Grinding my hips against the hood of the vehicle and moaning in desperation… I spread my legs wider, my ass aching for attention.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Garrett stroked a wet finger around my opening. "So velvety smooth inside. So tight around your cock …"

A hand rougher than Garrett's stroked the skin of my ass. My smooth skin and dusting of blond hair sometimes made enticing straight guys into crossing that line easier. What happened after they started fucking me was all them.

The sound of a condom wrapper being torn open had me smirking.

Garrett had been right about Tapper.

I tucked my arms against my chest to absorb the initial thrust of Tapper's cock as his hand came down on the back of my neck and clutched it tight within his grasp.

His raspy voice hissing in my ear startled me.

"You better stay still, you little bitch."

Tapper's palm crushed the side of my face against the rough, unforgiving burlap sack as he impaled me, smashing my hips against the grill of the Gator.

It seemed Tapper had a level of anger toward me I hadn't been aware of until now.

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I grunted, pain screaming up my spine, but I patted the hood of the vehicle to let Garrett know I was all right …that I didn't need him to wrestle Tapper off me.

It had only happened once, a cowboy experience gone wrong. Garrett had ended up choking the guy out with a length of rein to rescue me from what might have resulted in some serious injuries. We'd developed a system after that to let each other know if we needed help.

I breathed easier, delirious, as euphoria swept through me at last, the steady rocking motion thrilling me, his cock thrusting and caressing, his panting in my ear.

His perspiration was dripping onto my shoulders.

"Harder." I clenched my ass, challenging him, and changed my stance. "Harder!" A brief flash of sparks, an angry ache of pain in my gut. "Come on …harder!"

Grunting, panting above me—his cock pumped, battering my insides.

He shuddered above me, swearing, and ended the ride far sooner than I'd hoped. I set my forehead on the burlap sack as he slipped from my ass, only looking up when I heard the truck start up and take off. I laughed as I rolled over and righted myself.

"I can't believe we just did that."

"Tapper was an easy mark." Garrett stepped around to the driver's side of the vehicle and grabbed my clothes. "I've been watching him for a while now." He handed me my underwear and pants and dropped everything else at my feet. "We need to hurry and finish that fence."

I rolled my eyes as I pulled everything on except my shirt. I'd be shedding that in no time anyway. I jumped into the passenger seat as Garrett started up the Gator.

He didn't put it into gear. He just sat there, staring out through the windshield toward the heifer-trampled length of fence. He sighed, shook his head, and drove toward it.

"No more fucking around until we get this done and pack the trailer." He turned to face me and smirked. "The sooner we get to those rodeo grounds, the sooner we can do whatever we want."

I smiled and nodded. For some reason, my excitement about heading out on the road with Garrett felt different. It was making me uneasy. I hauled the toolbox out and set it on the grass. I glanced over at him, slipping his gloves on and pulling the barbed wire from the downed poles, and my gut twisted, remembering the feel of his mouth on the back of my neck—his lips, his teeth—his tongue. I nearly sank to my knees. It had felt so damn good—

I dismissed the uncertainty circulating throughout my body, grabbed some wire cutters, and went to help him.

The story continues …