Date: Sat, 08 Nov 2003 17:02:00 -0500
From: NYC Dan <nycdan@att.net>
Subject: Cowboy's Twink Pussy

Cowboy's Twink Pussy

by Cavanagh

PART 1

The blonde kid stood in the rancher's front door, shy, in crotch-high
cut-offs and a T-shirt torn off above the navel.

He'd turned 22 six months ago, but he hardly looked seventeen. He was only
five feet seven inches but well muscled despite the little-boy face. His
father was an ex-football coach who had pushed him into weight
training. The old man was an alcoholic who'd beat the shit out of the kid
whenever he couldn't complete an impossible number of reps. His father got
off on it. Then one night he discovered his wife's pussy wasn't
enough. Finally, the kid escaped and never went back.

His face was a heart melter: coral lips, white eyebrows and eyes with a
constant worried look, so shy he couldn't meet the rancher's eyes.

Dupke filled the door: six feet three inches, 250 pounds of farm muscle in
a greying T-shirt, so tight that armpit hair poked from the sleeves.

He was twice the kid's age. Greying slightly, his body was still thick with
muscle from his days as "Bronc" Dupke, the rodeo star. The kid's eyes
darted to the new tattoo on his huge bicep. He hadn't been able to take his
eyes off it since he'd seen it for the first time at the rodeo. He'd never
seen anything like it, a tattoo of a young kid frozen in orgasm, legs over
his head, ass stretched wide.

When they'd met, Dupke had done all the talking. He'd picked the kid up
hitchhiking. The boy had recognized him and Dupke couldn't miss the
adoration in his eyes. The rancher and his pal Court had agreed to "
... show him the ropes."

Walking him between them, they'd eventually taken him behind the
stands. They'd felt him tremble as they enveloped him and slowly began to
stroke his body. Opening his shirt, tilting his head back, they'd ended up
passing him back and forth, sucking his mouth. The kid was a natural, Dupke
kept saying over and over. Natural sucking.

When he found the kid had run away from home and needed a place to stay, he
gave him his address.

"You're a natural. You're built for this, boy. But you don't know it yet."
Dupke smiled. "Stay at my place for as long as you like. I'll show you what
it's all about." He slapped the kid hard and friendly on the side of the
neck. "Don't think too much about it, baby. Just say, 'Yes, Sir.'" He
waited. Then they walked away and left him, shirt hanging from his pants,
blond hair rumpled and his lips red and swollen.

The kid had shown up on the porch four days later. He wet his lips and
blushed to the roots. Finally he said, "Yes, Sir." He dropped his eyes to
avoid the man's, only to find the massive hands covered in grey-black wire
and the grease that Dupke was toweling off; the bulk of thighs; the bicep
slowly bulging as Dupke used the twisted up towel to nudge his chin back
up. He glanced nervously at the man's face, and then stared as a smile
slowly spread across it.

Dupke brought him into the living room, sat in a battered easy chair and
lit a cigarette. As he picked up the telephone, he told the kid to strip.

The kid hesitated.

"Strip, boy," Dupke said, the receiver frozen in mid air, his tone a little
firmer.

Hanging his head, the kid obeyed. The body's better than I'd hoped, Dupke
thought as he waited for Court to answer. Big-boy muscles under smooth,
flawless, white skin, a hard bubble ass curving into thick thighs. Sitting
on top of his pumped-up pecs were nipples an inch wide. They stood out
puffy and pink.

The boy stood in front of Dupke, leaking, as he finished his call. He
replaced the receiver, put the cigarette in his mouth and grabbed him by
the upper arm, making him kneel between his legs. He was amazed at how
docile the kid was. The rancher took off his T-shirt, revealing a deep,
shaggy chest. He hauled his cock and balls out of his Levis. Leaning
forward, he began to work those tits with his big hands. The kid lowered
his head, unable to meet his eyes. But the smell of the big man's stale
sweat and the pleasure-pain sensation in his tits made him throw his head
back.

Wincing slightly he tried to pull away. Dupke grabbed tighter, paused and
then rolled the tits harder. The kid winced again but gave over control.

Dupke told him, "You're a natural, baby. You're going to belong between a
man's legs." He smiled. "You're built for it." The kid lost a little
control staring at the muscles rippling slowly on Dupke's forearms. Spit
rolled out of his mouth onto the black hair. He didn't even know it.

Dupke rocked the head; back and forth, loose and supple. When he stopped
and began to bring his face closer, the kid opened his eyes. For the first
time he stared, scared and trusting, into Dupke's chocolate-brown eyes. He
felt the rancher's breath on his face, and his lips and cheeks blushed red
like a woman's. Dupke smiled, kissed him softly and then began to take the
kid's mouth into his.

He chewed, slow and firm, his full mouth with a day's stubble, against
smashed pink lips. He licked the spit off the kid's chin and shoved his
tongue in until that sucking began. Jesus. Dupke's thoughts flowed. Natural
sucking. What a find. The rhythm still surprised the kid himself, but he
couldn't stop it, even when he choked on his own spit. He was reaching up
to touch Dupke's face when Court arrived.

The boy had tried to get up, blushing, but Dupke held him down. Court
grinned. They talked about the kid like he wasn't there, like they talked
about a yearling. They didn't think it was odd, he realized and he had
nothing to say anyway. He relaxed, his head against the inside of Dupke's
thigh, feeling the muscles and the big hand stroking his chest.

Court opened his black veterinarian's bag and took out a Mason jar. "Is
that it?" Dupke asked. "Later," Court laughed.

"What is..." the kid began and then stared wide eyed as Court pulled out
the tattoo needles. Dupke felt the body tense and he smiled.

"Kiss it," he said, grabbing the blond head with one hand and moving the
pink lips onto the pussy-boy tattooed on his huge bicep. "Give it a sloppy
kiss." Dupke smiled and the kid kissed, confused and slow. "You're a
natural, baby..." The kid sucked Dupke's sweat. "You know that. We're just
gonna tattoo a smaller version of that near that upstanding little
ass-pussy of yours. Just in case I forget. That'll make me happy."

The boy suddenly tried to pull away but he was no match for the two
men. They chuckled as they tied his hands behind his back and stretched him
over Dupke's lap. He'd forgotten about the Mason jar.

Court took off his shirt. He was taller and leaner than Dupke, with long,
thick biceps and heavy pecs, with nipples the size of half dollars poking
through his chest hair. His dry, calloused hand started feeling the ass. No
one except a doctor had ever touched the kid there before.

"Hell, it's never seen the sun," Court grinned. Dupke laughed.

The kid jumped with the first needle and broke out in a sweat. Dupke held
his neck steady with one hand.

He knew the pain. He had radiated it when he'd gotten his own tattoo. The
kid kept bucking, and finally Court took off his belt and tied the boy's
waist to Dupke's thigh.

As the kid whimpered, Dupke leaned over and began to sweet-talk him. Shit,
Court grinned to himself, Dupke always gets romantic when a kid is in
pain. Dupke smeared his fist into his armpit and offered the boy the back
of his hand to smell or lick; whatever the kid needed to get his mind off
the needles.

When it was over, they put the kid between them, bent at the waist. Dupke
gently calmed the new tattoo, and Court wiped his brawny forearms with a
towel. He'd taken his pants off to reveal long, thickly muscled legs
covered with hair, and a nine-inch cock that curved up from a heavy ball
sack. Grateful that the pain was over, the kid had become limp and
pliant. He was pooching his lips on the head of Court's cock like Dupke had
told him, as a way of saying thank you.

Court draped the towel on the kid's neck and with one broad hand began to
pull the mouth-hole onto his cock. The kid started choking like a heartbeat
misfiring.

Dupke immediately squatted beside the kid, pushed the towel aside and with
one work-rough hand, grabbed the neck. He put his lips close to the kid's
ear once again.

"Be a good boy or we'll have to do the other cheek, baby."

He began a slow, hard milking rhythm, from the top of the hairless chest to
the base of the jaw, ending with a squeeze between his thumb and
forefinger. Again.

"Relax, boy. Let it go."

Court, holding the head, watched the action through his biceps. Dupke
milked again.

"You know what you want. Let go."

Again.

Court smiled down at Dupke as the kid started sucking.

"Jesus, you were right."

The kid was a natural. Very little surprised Court. But as the kid's hands
grabbed the fronts of Court's hairy thighs and small grunts of fear and
pleasure bubbled out, his throat lost control and it went into an automatic
grabbing. Spit bubbled out.

Dupke milked the neck over and over. Then, as three huge hands held the
head rock steady, Court slid his cock home. Dupke felt the neck bulging
along its length to accommodate it. The throat muscles began rippling in
rhythm like a caterpillar. Court started fucking slowly. Then harder.

Dupke settled back and lit another cigarette as he watched the
thirty-eight-year-old ex-rodeo rider put the eager little punk through his
paces. He knew that any hole Court had his cock in was just an extension of
his prick. His style was rough and sudden. But Dupke was amazed at how well
the kid performed.

Little did he know, the boy knew what he was doing.

His father and his uncle had come home drunk one night for a
"weight-training" session. They made impossible demands on his
twenty-one-year-old muscles, and then took turns belting the ass through
the jock when he failed. They got carried away. Before the night was over
they fucked his mouth, passing him back and forth.

That had gone on for three months. The last two weeks they'd kept him
locked in the basement. Until one night they'd wandered in cocky as hell
and left the door open. The kid saw his chance, threw weights at them and
ran from the basement.

Court began to muscle the kid, twisting the head from side to side as he
fucked. He yanked the blond hair back with one hand, then hauled the head
forward by the underside of the neck with the other. He stopped, holding
the lips to the root. The throat worked like a milking machine, Dupke
thought. Saliva drooled down the boy's chin onto Court's ballsack and then
in strands down the hair on the insides of his thighs.

"That's it, baby," he murmured encouragement.

Court suddenly began slapping the kid hard, left and right. He fucked and
slapped. The boy swallowed Court deeper than he thought possible; his jaw
jammed, stretching until it nearly disjointed the lips, almost tearing.

Court slammed in hard one last time and shot into the mouth-hole. Dupke
leaned forward and placed the kid's hands on Court's balls, squeezing
them. His throat muscles grabbed like bands of steel. Court's head slowly
tilted back, sweaty and open-mouthed. His thigh muscles stood out like a
relief map. The cock head opened halfway down the kid's gullet and blasted
like a fire hose.

For the first time in a long while he was out of control as he mated with
that mouth. The kid's eyes squinted as cum ran from his nose. When it was
over, Court let his cock sit for a minute and then gradually worked the
length of it slowly out of the kid's gut. With the support gone, the boy
fell to the floor. They ignored him as he grabbed his dick.

Court was breathing hard. Then he laughed suddenly when he saw the Mason
jar.

"Pussy maker," he said, pointing to it. "There's nothing harder on a bull's
pecker than tight, dry cow pussy. I started pumpin' that stuff up the
cows. Makes 'em horny as hell. And they pour like a faucet. Everyone's been
asking about it. Try it on him. Hell, if it works, he won't be able to get
enough."

He looked at the kid as the boy frantically beat his pecker, legs in the
air, the blue eyes taking in their bodies.

"It'll burn like hell," he said. "You'll have to hurt him real bad before
you start shoving it up there or his ass will just vomit it out." Court
wiped his dick with the towel. "Give it twenty minutes. Then douche him,
but good."

He laughed out loud at the thought. Slowly he twisted the towel between his
hands. He locked eyes with the kid, then snapped the towel dead center on
his asshole. They boy shrieked and came, his ass banging up and down on the
floor, out of control.

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