Garrett and I had known each other since high school, senior year. 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 partially 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 down the 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 huge pawlike hands gripping my balls and pulling 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.

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 ahold 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, when we fucked next. 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 on retrieving one from my own wallet, which was located 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.

"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 worry 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 and 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 serious 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. Laying 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.

"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 each 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 intermittingly 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 adjusted his free hand to be 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 how it would feel 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.

Momentarily.

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 sunk 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 and 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. Taken 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 I 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 in his mind. Or what that meant in anyone else's mind in the heartland township we lived in.

"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, 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 in the air. "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 own 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 it, 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 got around to fixing it.

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 out 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 for driving 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 so incredibly subtle. Very uncharacteristic of him. I decreased my speed 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 positioning of his hand, and used his fingers to stroke the full length of my cock, guiding it 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, making 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."

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 specific. 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 shamrock-green hood of the Gator, 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, completely nude, and lifted Garrett's cock into my mouth with my tongue, separating it from where it had laid 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.

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 brief 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 had to struggle to adjust my stance to accommodate the bulky bumper at the front of the vehicle.

Garrett grabbed ahold 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 tugging, stretching my flesh. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to cry out, but the extent of the pain Garrett was achieving 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 was agreeing 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.

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 my hands to 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 they might be.

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 shutting 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."

"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 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 was in charge of the repairs and maintenance of the buildings. All you had to do was listen for the tapping, 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 was 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. Instead, 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.

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 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 and 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 sunk to my knees. It had felt so damn good—

I dismissed it, grabbed some wire cutters, and went to help him.