1. Eight Seconds

    Date: 5/16/2018, Categories: Gay, Author: byKeithD, Source: Literotica

    bull-riding national finals in Las Vegas this year, Vince more than Cal. But they were a couple, doing this together. They worked together in construction in Denver, they lived together, they played together, and they slept together. Vince and Cal were inseparable. They might as well have been married. In fact, each had thought the same thing, but neither, as yet, had had the courage to mention that to the other. Making the bull-riding national finals was Vince's goal for this phase of his life. Staying with Vince and keeping Vince happy was Cal's goal. How that showed out now was Cal accepting Vince's bull riding competition goal as his as well. But Cal was making Vince happy now, right at this moment, with his dick. "Just about there," Vince grunted. "You too? You ready to come too, Cal?" "Yeah, I'm with you, good buddy," Cal muttered through clinched teeth. "Eight seconds is the goal in the ring, remember that," Vince hissed, and then he did a countdown as he stroked himself and Cal stroked his ass in the same rhythm. "Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one," he intoned, and then he fired off up his flat belly. "Now you." Cal pulled out of Vince's ass with a groan, and Vince grasped his cock and stroked it to the numbers, "Eight, seven . . . two, one," and then Cal gave him his load with a little cry, collapsed on top of him and the two of them went into a lip lock. Cal was thinking that Vince had his mind too much into this bull-riding business, but what could ... Cal do? The way he felt about Vince, all he could do was go with it and do what he could to be part of the dream. * * * * Cal stood there by the side of the F150 in the lot next to the bullring at the Cheyenne, Wyoming, fairgrounds while Vice pulled the boot box and a plastic bag from behind the passenger seat. He already had his red, white, and black plaid cotton shirt off his back and had dropped it on the passenger seat. People were passing by to enter the bleachers on two sides of the bullring, and most of the women—and a few of the men—gave Vince's hard, trim, lightly muscled torso a second look as they passed by. One hard-looking cowgirl actually gave him a wolf whistle and Vince blushed and turned away from her, a little grin forming on his face. He didn't mind being told he looked good—even if it was by a woman. Other vehicles—mostly pickup trucks—were arriving and parking haphazardly around the edges of the bullring on the dusty dirt under a glaring sun. There would be a good crowd today. Just this and one more bull-riding event, in Laramie, for this region this year and the top contenders would be off for the Nationals in Las Vegas. The top riders had been whittled down to what pretty much would be those qualifying for Nationals. Vince was well up in the standings; Cal was on the cusp. Cal, three years older than Vince, had been going for it for six years—Vince only for four—but this was the closest either had come to qualifying for Nationals. Statistically Vince was ...