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Any use of real places, events, corporations or products within this text are strictly for the purpose of adding realism and authenticity to the writing. Critiques are always welcome. Also, please let me know what you think of the format. If you want more information about any rodeo events, there are tons of resources online.

Written exclusively for Nifty Archives. This story involves sexual relationships between boys, aged 15 and older. If this is illegal in your area, please do not read on. This story is work of fiction. Any similarities between real places, people, and events is completely coincidental and unintentional. If you read the archives frequently, then you know the drill. Take the rest with a grain of salt. This story is (c) 2007-08, Milos. All rights reserved! Please do NOT repost this story without permission.

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'Our arena volunteers, down there in the Wrangler shirts, takin' care of business. Looks like the steer there doesn't want to go home. Here kitty, kitty, kitty! Okay, steer's back through the gates. If you look over to the box on the north side of the arena, Stephen Dorsitt's gonna be your header, and Matthew Hedquist is the healer. They came in third place, yesterday. Let's see how they do in the final round.'

Mattie's horse makes a full turn behind the box, Mattie pulls back on the reins and backs him into a corner, so Oreo's butt's up against two bits of fencing. Oreo has blue tape on all four legs, heel to hock. Mattie's saddle has some blue highlights in it, too.

Oreo's a beautiful horse, a thirteen-year-old black and white paint. His legs and belly are black, so is his back. He's got white spots on his sides. I could see how he got his name. His personality matches Mattie's, too. He's good natured, sweet, and a little shy. But when you get him out in front of a crowd of people, chasing cans, pole bending, ropin', whatever, he's a different animal. All business.

I clap my hands, yell. "Come on, Mattie!" Stick my fingers in my mouth and whistle.

It's the last junior rodeo before winter. High school rodeo starts in the spring. I was thinking about takin' up a winter sport. Maybe basketball or wrestlin'. Keep myself busy like everyone else in this town. The American way. With sports.

The steer darts out of the box, makes a break for the other side. Stephen comes out fast, throws out his rope and makes the catch right over both horns. He makes the dally, pulls his horse backwards, turns the steer to the left.

Mattie's swinging his rope over his head. Throws out the loop and hooks both legs. Dallys and pulls Oreo backwards, gets the slack out of the ropes.

'There it is! Fourteen-oh-one's the time. And that's the time to beat for our last three teams.'

Mattie releases the rope, lets the steer run off toward the gate.

I gotta pee. I get up and head for the hallway, try to find a bathroom. Jeff's at the other down the hall. He's walking back and forth, yelling into his cellphone. FIghting with someone. It's none of my business, and I really, really gotta pee.

The bathroom's empty, aside one of the stall doors being closed. I have performance anxiety. I step up to the steel trough, fish out my guy and try to start taking a piss. I almost have a stream going.

"Fuckin' girls!" Jeff walks in behind me. Stands next to me, unzips his fly. "God damn, I swear to God chicks are nothing but professional ball-busters." He's got his dick in his hands, peeing, makin' chit-chat like we were just hanging out somewhere.

My own stream stops. This hurts so bad, just stopping like this.

He's got his eyes ahead, looks like he's talkin' to the wall. "Just 'cuz she has all these fuckin' ideas about what I should be. Like it makes any fuckin' difference who you are, you know? I mean, first it was we live too far away... then she tries to play the I don't have enough time for a relationship card."

I squeeze my abs, my bladder, the best I can. Start peeing, but there ain't a lotta' pressure. I try to keep my eyes ahead, but a quick blink and I look down and to the left. Jeff's manhood. He's got it by his left hand. I can see his details. A bush of dark brown hairs. It looks thick. Bigger than mine, at least. There's a vein running along--

"You hear me?"

I snap my eyes forward to the cinderblock wall. Look over at him. "Wha?"

He nods at me. "Watch what you're doin'."

I'm about half hard, peeing off to the side, all over the wall. Fuck.

He's already finished, got his hands in the sink, scrubbing them. "I said we should hang out. I need to get shitty."

I shake, stuff it back in my pants. I guess I didn't shake good enough, there's a dime-sized spot in the front of my underwear. Zip up. "I don't know, man. I really can't be caught drinking. I mean... I don't..."

"You wanna drive my truck?"


"If you don't wanna drink, would you drive my truck? Take me home?"

"Shit, dude, I don't even have my license, yet. If anyone saw me, we'd both be in deep shit." I start washing my hands.

He leans against the wall next to me, wipes his hands on some napkins from the dispenser. "Stop being such a pussy. It'll be dark. You've driven before, right?"

"Of course I have. I've even driven with the horse trailer, but what if we get pulled over and I'm driving with a permit?"

"Stop worrying so much! I just need an ear for a while. Might as well be you."

I sigh. "Whatever... I guess. Fuckin', you owe me one. Don't tell Ronnie about this."

"I don't talk to him much anymore. Got all good on me."

"I thought you said you two got high all the--"

He puts his hand on my chest, leans in. Shushes me. "We don't say the H word in public, Susan." He blinks a few times, backs up. "Just find me after your ride. Meet me at my truck." He walks off.

I dry my hands, walk out. He pulled a Houdini again. I shrug, walk back to my seat. Come over the top of the steps and see Mattie in front of me. He's standing on one of the wider steps next to the seats, looking for where he left his bag, I guess.

He's got on his dark Wranglers, the ones that make him look like he's all legs, blue and white plaid shirt tucked in. He's wearing his biggest belt buckle, silver and fake gold. A picture of an eagle scooping a fish out of the water. On his body it looks like it could pick up signals from Sputnik or something. I bet the folks at SETI would like to talk to him about licensing time on his belt buckle to listen for little green men.

He's wearing the gray hat, the one with the mostly flat brim. Looks a little big on him, kinda pushes his ears out further than they really sit. Little bits of his hair stick out under the brim. His boots are covered in dirt, no luster. They're cowboy boots he uses for riding, the dark tan ones with the rounded toe.

He looks up toward me as I'm walkin' down the steps. My spurs click and clack with every step, so I guess I wouldn't have been able to sneak up on him very easily. The last ropin' team has their steer by one foot, around the neck. A few people on the other side of the stands cheer.

'Looks like the belt buckles for Team Roping are going to Stephen Dorsitt and Matthew Hedquist this afternoon. They came in first at foooouuurrrrrteen seconds oh-one. Those belt buckles provided by Big Horn Dodge of Great Falls. That calls it for Team Ropin', so we're gonna get the Linton's Big R tractor out there and get all set up for the first half of Barrel Racing!'

Mattie cracks a big smile at me.

"Holy shit, dude. Good job!"

He blushes, kicks his boot. "Good luck, I guess."

"That wasn't luck. You had that thing good and tight. Oreo looked really good, too!"

He grins at me, a wide smile. "Heh. Thanks, Lem." He only smiles like that at me, since he doesn't like the way his teeth look. They're not bad. His pointy ones are back a little, a bit crooked. He thinks the ones in front are as big as horse teeth because Jason used to kid him about it, kept throwing carrots at him when he'd come over.

That's about the time Ronnie stopped hangin' out with Jason. He never did it again after that, either. Don't know what Ronnie said to him, but Jason never even acknowledges Mattie when he's over. Jason knows Ronnie could kick his ass.

Mattie sits down next to his bag, puts his feet up on the chair in front of him. Looks up at me. "Wanna hang out tonight?"

I sit next to him. Lean forward on my knees and look over. "I got some shit I gotta take care of tonight. I reckon tomorrow would work for me, if you're up for it."

He smiles. "Okay. I'll see what Mom says."

"By the way, NASA called. They want their satellite dish back."

He looks down at his buckle. "Well, damn. Right when I finally figured out how to get the premium movie channels on it!"

# # #

Backdraft has his own theme song. Whenever he's in the chute, waiting with a rider on his back, they always play a song called When It Comes, by Incubus.

The song was chosen during Backdraft's early years, at the NCFR in Casper. He was drawn two times in one night, and they were playing the song when he was in the chute the second time.

"They're letting it out, again..."

The rider on the second ride was the one that broke his jaw. After that, the song just stuck.

# # #

The wind smells like it's gonna turn cold, but it hasn't yet. Indian summer in the middle of October. We'll get a few inches of snow before Halloween, then it's gonna melt off till the first week of November. Then we'll get dumped on. After it snows, the wind's gonna take it all and blow it off to Kansas.

You can get by in a pair of jeans and a teeshirt. Good thing to keep a sweater or jacket on hand, in case the wind kicks up. Montana has some hellacious wind sometimes.

I'm looking for Jeff's truck in the parking lot. He might be on the other side. I walk along the side of the building, look out over Great Falls. See a few houses mixed in with the trees here and there. I stop at the entrance facing the west side of the ExpoPark. Jeff's truck is out on the dirt lot, out by the entrance. It's sitting there alone, in the middle of a lotta' nothing.

There's a chill in the air. I put on my jacket before going on. Rub my arms to warm them up.

I walk up to his truck, look inside. He's not here. Look around, not like there's anything to see. I pull the tailgate down, hop up in the back and sit against the wheel well. His beer cooler isn't here. I wonder if he's gonna stop at home and get it, or if he's got other ideas. Maybe he has something stashed away at Dawson's. Maybe it's Ol' Dawson that buys his booze for him.

Close my eyes. Feel the cold wind on my face, breathe it in. Smells like a rodeo. Like livestock. Dirty. My mind goes places, back to the bathroom, and Jeff holding his dick. I'm hard, it's pressing against the inside of my jeans. I mash into it with my hand, try to push it down so it doesn't look so obvious. But, who's around to see it?

I squeeze my ass cheeks together, it jumps in my pants. I push down on it again, rub it. Bend it around a little, keep squeezing it. God, I want to keep going. I might just figure out a way. Maybe if I took off my under-shirt, use that to clean up with. I could hide it easy enough.

The more I think about Jeff, the more I wanna. I got the head in my hand, separated by cotton and denim. Squeeze, push, rub. I put my hand down my pants. Push against the small patch where my bush rests, thin and barely there. A person wouldn't think it by looking at my parts, but I can rush like a man. Wrap my fingers around it, squeeze my balls a few times, bend my dick around in my shorts. Fuck...

I spot Jeff. He's walking toward me by himself. I pull my hand outta my pants, hope he didn't see me, what I was up to. I get out of the back, put the gate back up. My wood is pressing hard against the front of my pants. It's hard to walk, the damned thing's so worked up.

"Thank fuckin' God for Fridays." He walks past me, throws his bag in the back. He unlocks his door, hops in, then unlocks my side. "Let's blow this popsicle stand." The truck roars when he turns the ignition over.

# # #

It takes us a little over two hours, but we pull into a little spot near Clearwater Crick just after six. We grabbed a bite to eat on the way back, in Cutbank. I thought Jeff would have wanted to track Hope down, work things out. We just went right through.

Not once did he bring her up. We talked like old friends the whole way back. Talked rodeo, the future, what we want to do with our lives... where we came from. Just bullshitted. Made a big deal out of a lot of little nothings, like we were the kings of the world. We didn't talk girls, we talked horses. Ranches. Living in the scrub all rough 'n tumble. The war scars of our youth.

It got a lot cooler from when we left Great Falls. I wouldn't be surprised if we got an early snow tonight. Just a sprinkle. I can't see my breath yet, but I know it's not too far off.

Jeff pulls into a spot under a thicket of trees. We get out, head to the bed of the truck to look off the side of the hill. It's dark enough that you can see headlights on the highway, far off in the distance. Little points of floating light.

He opens the tool box compartment in the middle. Pulls out a few blankets. Lays down a wool one over the bed, drapes it part the way over tool box. He's got two more, throws me one of 'em. I crawl in the back and sit next to him, unfold the blanket and pull it over me. "I thought you said you wanna get fucked up."

"I intend to." He puts a hand in his pocket, pulls out the bag he keeps his piece in. He holds his hand over, offers me the first hit off the pipe.

"Not this time. Maybe I will sometime when I don't have to go home."

He shrugs. Pulls out his lighter and takes a good long hit.

"You okay, man?" I ask it all manly, like I'm not just some kid.

"What'dyou think?"

"You really liked her, didn't you?"

He lets out the smoke, starts a good round of coughing. His eyes are watery. "I thought I did. I just 'bout thought she could be the one, y'know?" He takes another hit, holds it in a second. "Just don't know how an ugly guy like me got a chick that fine."

"I don't think you're ugly." I should really think before I say these things.

He turns his head a little bit toward me, looks at me out of the corner of his left eye. Shit. "I guess I should say thanks."

"I didn't mean it like that."

He shakes his head. "I know what you meant."

I sit, cuddle up with the blanket. It smells stale, mechanical. Like it's been in the tool box for a while. It's dingy, but I don't care. It's nice and warm. "Well, if you need an ear..."

He sits there for a second. "Girls fuckin' suck. That's 'bout the long and short of it."

I look at him. "Wanna talk about it?"

He smiles. The kind of grin that lifts on one particular side of his face. "Nawww." Looks at me. "Just wanted the company." He pauses, hits the peace pipe. "Sucks to be alone when shit like this happens."

"Never happened to me before."

"What, girl never broke your heart?"

I laugh softly. "Dude, you know Brooke's my first girlfriend. Well, sorta girlfriend. I don't even know if we're official or anything."

"Still feeling a bit gun shy?"

"I don't know." I shrug. "I guess. I don't know what to think, I mean, a girl like that could have a better guy than me."

"You know, I'd consider you one of the luckiest little son'sa bitches. You don't try, you're practically uninterested in this girl, and she throws herself all over you. You got something goin' on."

"I don't know what the fuck it is."

He slides down so he's looking at the sky. Looks up at me and smiles. "I bet you do."

"Fuck that shit." I just laugh it off. Sit for a minute. The tool box's starting to hurt my back. I slide down so I'm laying next to him. Look up in time to see a shooting star. "What'd you wish for?"

"What, that meteorite?"


"I can't tell you."

I look at him. Make fun of him a bit. "Why the hell not?"

"Because you said it was bad luck." He smiles at me, looks back up. He closes his eyes, moans with a grin.




"How did you like your first time? In Helena?"

I think back, wonder how much I should tell him. "Dizzy."

"That's it? You were dizzy?"

I sigh.


"Really, really fuckin' horny." I blush.

He shrugs. "It happens." Pulls the blanket under his chin.

I giggle. Try to joke around with him a bit. "What, got a case of blue balls?"

He raises an eyebrow. "What if I do? What the hell would you know 'bout it, Susan?"

I'm looking right into his eyes, I can't leave his stare. He's holding me by the soul, like the universe could turn sideways or upside down, and he has the power to move it at will. Voids of brown. I want everything to lower my face on his, rest on his lips. Gotta pull back, keep my head about me. Why? Why the fuck do I feel like th--

He's got a hand around the back of my head, locking me to his mouth. Breath hissing. I Put my tongue in his mouth, he sucks on it. Feels strange, flighty.

He props himself up on his elbow, lowers part of his upper body on me. Licks my neck. Slips a hand up my shirt. Sucks on a spot just below the collar of my shirt, all sensation is there until he touches my nipple. Rubs it with the tip of his finger, then tugs it a little. Gently. Softly, again, we kiss. Head is spinning. "God, Jeff..."

He sighs next to my ear, has the button of my pants undone before I even realize he's unbuckled my belt. Slowly, he lowers the zipper, rubs me through my boxers, puts his hand through the opening, tugging, breaks the button holding the flap shut just to have at me. He feels me, all of me. All of the parts that make me a boy... the things that make me a man. Puts his fingers where Mattie did once, but rubs up and down the crack a little.

Do it, whatever you're gonna do. Just fuckin' do it.

He slides down, kissing my chest, my tummy as he goes down lower. Looks up at me, stops for a second. "You okay? With this?"

I moan, close my eyes. "Go."


"I'm fine," I whisper. "Go."

He lifts my shirt up, licks my belly button, starts yanking my pants down, feels up the leg of my shorts, plays with my balls. I'm real mixed up, I never felt this way, and I know it'll end as soon as I cum. This' a fluke. He'll probably never talk to me again. Maybe it's a dream.

He presses his face between my legs, into the leg-hole of my boxers. Lets his tongue run at the spot between my stuff and my groin, like he'd be eating me out if I was a girl. Puts a nut in his mouth and sucks on it. Feels good until he sucks to hard, but he knows just when to let off. He gets my boxers around my ass, down my thigh. Licks on both my balls like they were candy, goes at them like a treat. I have my knees outward, down on the bed of the truck. The air is cold on the spokes, just right to feel good, to drive me wild.

He licks up the length of my dick, stops where the head splits, and follows it to the top, moves his tongue around it. Got ahold of it at the bottom. Warm suction all the way down. I look down, he's fuckin' sucking me off, like one of the chicks did in Jason's Penthouse collection. But it's Jeff. I've thought about this, but it's not real. It can't be. It was just some figment of my fucked up imagination.

Up and down, up and down. I want to tell him I'm almost ready. I need to tell him to get off. I don't think he wants my jizz in his mouth. God fucking damn it!

His finger gets a little lower, and a little lower. It brushes with the top of my hole, and I'm feeling a little funny about it. Vulnerable. I want him to keep going on top, but I want him to stop the rest of it.

The finger lifts. I gasp 'cuz I'm so close, but I don't think it's gonna happen just yet. I feel the finger again. Wet this time. He just up and sticks it up my ass. Up to his knuckle. I sit up, scurry back. "What're you doing?"


"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I thought that's what you wanted."

"Dude! What the fuck?" I grab my boxers at my knees, pull them up. Work my pants back on right. "Seriously. Damn it."

He yells at me. "Would you just settle the fuck down a minute?"

"I don't wanna know what you were just thinkin' then. Fuck it, man. I'm done. I'm goin' home." I hop off the back of his truck, over the side. Start walking up the dirt road.

I hear him behind me, trying to get my attention. "Lem, take it easy. It's not like that at all. Just... fuck... stop!"

Keep going. I'm pissed, I don't know why. I don't feel like I was hurt or anything, I just feel dirty. I mean, it's my ass. It scared me because... I don't fucking know. Something like that's not supposed to feel like that, I mean, that good. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with my brain?

All this wonderin', I don't even hear Jeff drive up behind me.

"Lem, let me drop you off at least. Would you just let me take you home?" He drives along side me.

I keep fixed ahead, It's dark, hard to see where I'm goin. I'm staring at a streetlight on the highway, since this part of the road is straight until it gets on toward town. "Just go on home."

"Don't freak out so much." He smacks the side of his truck. "Get in, would you?"

I stop, look at the ground. I feel something, short of my worth. Unclean, maybe invincible. I would have let him go on, too, had it not been for all that. I curse my luck. Walk around the back and get in, stay close to the door.

"We gonna talk about this?"

"Just fuckin' take me home."

"Lem, it went a little far. It was the weed, man."

"Jeff, I don't wanna talk about it, just take me home."

He pulls it into gear. Drives me all the way to my driveway and doesn't even say a thing. Doesn't say he's sorry when I get out. Then again, I don't say anything either. Don't feel the need. He drives off, maybe too afraid to look back. Maybe too angry.

I walk up to the house, go through the back door. The lights in the basement are on, so they must be watching the television set. I go downstairs to settle Momma's mind, tell her I'm in.

Dad's asleep in his reclining hair. Momma's watching Flicka. Chase has her head in Momma's lap, laying across the couch.


She looks over.

"Just wanted to let you know I was home."

"Okay. Mattie called. Said he wanted you to call him back. Might be a bit late now."

Fuck, it's already after nine. "I can get him tomorrow. I think I'm gonna take a bath, scrub up good."

"Just make it quick." She smiles at me.

Why do I feel like she knows what happened? Why do I suddenly feel so guilty? I head upstairs, just to get away from them, their looks. Want to wash this feeling off me, this feeling for Jeff, this thing and how I dreamt it -- all of it needs to go down the fuckin' drain with the dirty water. All the dirty parts need to go away. To leave me alone.

I get naked, start the water in the tub. I don't even want to look in the mirror. I want to call Jeff, want him to finish this off. I'm scared of him now, the way he looked at me. He was scared. I know it inside me. I could feel it.

I could call Mattie, but that wouldn't solve anything. I don't even trust myself right now, don't expect he'd know what to do.

I'm holding my balls by the scrote, kinda pulling the skin out a bit. A habit from when I was a kid, one of those things Momma always used to tell me to knock off when I was in the tub. Slap my wrists.

There's an unfamiliar black dot.

Damn fucking ticks! Guess it's about that time of year, last chance to get blood before they have to burrow. I get into the cabinet, take out the tweezers. Get it right above the head, at the skin, start pulling it out. It's little legs are going. I fucking hate these things. I pop it's head it the tweezers, drop the body in the toilet. Figure I better check everything else. Around my junk, between the toes, in the armpits, around the ears.

There's a mirror on the back of the door, goes from the floor to the top. I turn my back to it, lean over with my hands on my cheeks, pull them apart. Don't see any tics. I find myself fixing my sights on my hole. The little pink slit that caused this trouble. I can't stop looking at it. Maybe I was expecting it'd be broken or something, but there it is, where it's alway been, and here I am, paying it more attention than I ever have before. Smooth ass crack, clean hole with a texture, color, like rare steak.

God, if there's one person in this county that's cleaner there than I am, it'd be Mattie. He's paranoid about his hygiene. Brushes his teeth three times a day. Freaks out if he doesn't get to shower in the morning. Even if he's got the day off, not doing anything, he's got to take a shower before he'd even consider walking to the mailbox.

My ass is still attached. Not really going anywhere. I stop the water, feel it to make sure it's nice and hot. I sit in the tub, sink, let my face under the water.

# # #

I lay down in bed, stare off into the dark, where the ceiling should be. Thoughts of Jeff start playing in my head. I try to push them out, but they start getting the better of me. I'm hard as a rock.

I can still feel it in my mind, the way it felt when he had me in his mouth. I can't describe it, just remember it. My dick jumps when I touch it. I wrap around, start slowly. I have two fingers behind my nuts, in that spot that makes me that much harder.

Keep throwing dice, slowly. Let it build up a bit. My fingers are going lower, little by little. My ears are ringing, like there's a train outside, goin' by my window.

I stop for a second. I have my finger right on my asshole. Pad of my finger isn't in, but it's smearing things apart. My adrenalin kicks in, thinking of Jeff. Keep the hand around my dick still and push on my hole. Get in a little ways, but it kind of hurts. Burns. I pull my hand up to my face. I'm about to stick my finger in my mouth. Stop. This has just been in my ass.

I start stroking again, stick the middle finger on my other hand in my mouth. Suck on it. Make it nice and wet. The hand travels down again, circles around the hole softly. I want more. I sit up a bit, spit on my pointer and middle, spread it around. Spit on the fingers again and rub. My nerves are alive with this feeling. I spit again. This time, slowly, my pointer starts in. One knuckle, two knuckles, all the way to the last knuckle.

Here I am, knees pulled back. Finger up my ass, the ringpiece grabbing my finger like a suckling calf, not used to something being there. Being inside. I curl my finger to feel around. I'm afraid of what I'm going to feel. My finger rests against the wall. Slick, smooth. My guy gets harder when I pull forward and back, like I'm going toward my nuts from the inside. I hit a spot where I feel like I'm either gonna piss myself or cum. Move it side to side, around that spot, push up on it again and my cock jumps on its own. I keep pushing up on the spot. This feeling.

I roll over on my belly, still inside myself, put my ass in the air and just start going in and out, pushing this button. Keep pushing it. Smash my face into the pillow, curl my toes. I feel like I'm going to let go, so I put my free hand under my dick, to catch my cum. Dripping, filling my hand. I'm not even cuming for real, yet. Just keeps going and going.


Please let me know what you think of the story. Send critiques to with the subject "Lem.". Thanks for reading!