1. Eight Seconds


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

    from the door, pulling into the partial shade there. He leaned his back against the side of the RV, bending one knee, and planting his foot in it's old-leather, scruffed boot against the metal stripping behind him, lit up a cigarette, and waited. He felt like a skunk about what he was up to. Cal didn't deserve this. But Vince was obsessed with going to Nationals and this was the path he'd had to take in the past. * * * * "Someone's banging on the door." "Don't pay no attention to that, sweet cheeks. Just keep doin' what you're doing." What the nineteen-year-old, small, lithe, Native American, first-year bull-riding contender Billy Beartooth was doing was riding Harv Simpson's cock on the single bed at the back of the RV parked next to the bullring at the Cheyenne fairgrounds. Harv, in his late forties, and well-muscled but thick around the middle, with a beer paunch, and ugly as sin, was lying on his back on the bed, naked except for his ten-gallon hat and cowboy boots. Billy Beartooth, naked except for brown-leather chaps and his own ten-gallon hat, was sitting astride Harv's pelvis, facing him, and riding the older man's cock like he'd be riding a bucking bull within the next couple of hours. Billy had a fine little, perfectly proportioned body, and Harv had a quite commendable cock—thick as Billy's wrist and long enough that Billy could buck wildly and not come off the shaft. Harv made quite clear that he enjoyed Billy bucking while he rode his cock, so that's what ... Billy was doing. As Billy rode the cock, Harv held the young man's slim waist between his hands, helping to bounce his ass on the cock, and Billy held his hat on his head with one hand and stroked off his own cock with his other hand. They fucked like this for several minutes more after the banging on the door to the RV had stopped, until Billy shot his load up into Harv's chest hair and Harv, in turn, filled out the bulb of his condom. Billy then collapsed onto Harv's chest, nuzzled his head under Harv's chin—a place the young man could escape to without having to look into the older man's grizzled face—and played with the cum-dampened salt-and-pepper curly hair on Harv's chest. They both worked to bring their breathing under control and both of them concentrated on Harv's cock shriveling up inside Billy's channel. Harv was a shriveler. He had a cock that looked pitiful when it was soft, but it hardened up into a tool that could make a man moan. "Did I . . . was that—?" "That was fine, Billy. Don't worry. I'll take good care of you this afternoon." "How long again?" "Eight seconds. I'd think you'd remember that. You gotta stay on the bull eight seconds to make it to Laramie and then, if you hang on for eight seconds there, it's on to Vegas, kid." "It's all too loud—and goes by too fast. I don't know if—" "I said I'd take care of you and I will. Now dress and get checked in. Come back tonight and you'll earn your entrance fee back." Billy sucked in his breath. Times like this ...
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