Ride Em Cowboy

Since the 1930s my extended family has had a remote ranch in a hidden Colorado Rockies valley abutting Medicine Bow National Park south from Laramie, Wyoming. The mountain fasts there—almost alpine in environment—are majestic, but they can be raw and cruel as well.

Our family raised cattle there and took timber off the mountainsides in a planned "thinning" harvest pattern that supported a construction business down in Denver without denuding the forested hillsides. We weren't year-round ranchers, though, eschewing the forbidding winters by centering our lives elsewhere and only using the oft-expanded rambling stone and log ranch house for periodic vacations. Anyone in the family corporation could show up at the ranch after merely checking to see how many others would be in temporary residence; the rest of the year the ranch was taken care of by a long-term foreman and a succession of young—and not so young—wranglers holding fast to the dream of the wild and independent American West cowboy.

These cowboys were a sturdy, if somewhat rough and self-absorbed lot, many of whom had accommodated to the life of isolation in a wild and remote wilderness by taking whatever opportunities came their way.

Thus it was that, having called ahead to report that I was on home leave from a European tour and planned to take a Colorado rest and recuperation by riding the range and fishing the cold mountain trout streams, I found Big Bill, a handsome if wind-chiseled-featured rangy cowboy of almost indeterminate age hunched over the railing of the stable fence, waiting for me to arrive. He was leaning his lithe and sinewy hard-worked body over the fence with one booted foot on the lower rail and spinning a stalk of oats in his mouth when I caught sight of him. A big grin spread across his creased weather-beaten face when I drove up in a Jeep Cherokee in a cloud of dust and came to a sliding stop beside the covered log veranda extending across the wide face of the ranch house. A hunky hulk of a young blond I'd never seen before was keeping him company at the rail.

"Heard yer were comin' into the valley, Mr. H.," Big Bill called out to me. I walked over toward him, and he stood up straighter as I did and set his creased and oily cowboy hat back on his head so that I could see the glint of welcome in his eyes.

"Yep," I replied. "Got a little tired of being targeted by all those bombs on my forays into the Middle East," I said, with a grin. "Thought I'd come back here for a spell and check out whether there are any missiles here as threatening as those I encountered in Lebanon."

"I reckon we can find a few here if that's what you want," Big Bill responded, with a hearty laugh. "Come for another ride, did you? Wantin' to go up into the hills again like we did last summer?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I want," I answered. I need some tension release. I figure a good ride and then several hours in the trout stream will help a lot."

"Doesn't look like you brought the family," Big Bill said.

"Nope. The wife couldn't get away. She's still back in the Mediterranean."

"So, it's just you, is it?" Bill asked.

"Yep. Any of the rest of the family in residence?"

"Not for another week or so. Most of the Colorado family will come in when the leaves have hit their peak of fall color. That shouldn't be for another week or two."

"So, it's just us, is it?"

"Yep, most of the workers have the week off to set up for the long fall run of family in the house. I'm yer cook and general handyman, I'm afraid."

"Suits me just fine," I said.

"So, do you still want to take that ride up in the hills rather than just staying down here?"

"Yes, and the sooner the better. Can you get the horses and all that we'll need together in the next hour or two? And supplies for sleeping out under the stars? I've been looking forward to this for months."

"I sure can," Big Bill responded. "But, uh, where are my manners. Jawing away like this, and not even introducing you to the new hand. Mr. H., this is Long Jack; Long Jack, Mr. H."

As we shook hands, my mind worked over what the "Long Jack" could mean. None of the cowboys went by their real names—in truth, most cowboys out here were escaping something or someone and had no intention of bandying their real names about. I'd found out where the "Big Bill" had come from last summer. I wondered what "Long Jack's" story was. Whatever it was, he was one muscled, blond hunk of a man. Probably Scandinavian in background; maybe over from Minnesota. And handsome. The sun and wind hadn't had time to etch his features yet. He beamed at me, obviously a very friendly fellow.

"And, do you mind of Long Jack comes along, Mr. H.? I think he'd like a ride too, if that's OK with you."

"Yeah, of course," I replied, all smiles. "I'd like that."

"I kinda thought you would," Big Bill said with a big grin.

Less than two hours later, we were in the saddle on three stallions and riding up the ridgeline of a spur rising up from the ranch house into the foothills of the Rockies to the west of the Medicine Bow parkland. This was gorgeous scenery, visited rarely by man. The trees were beginning to change color, but we were in a very warm spell—so warm that we all stripped off our shirts. Although both hard bodied, Big Bill and Long Jack were a contrast in fine manhood. The older wrangler, black haired and on the edge of hirsute, was sinewy and on the thin side, with swarthy, leathery skin beaten by the cruel elements. His arms and chest were ropy with veins standing out on top of hard muscle. In contrast, the younger wrangler obviously hadn't been in the elements out here all that long. He was blond, fair, smooth skinned, and bulky without an apparent ounce of fat on him. He had a deep chest tapering down to a thin waist and biceps as thick as some men's waists. He probably could have broken me in two.

Traveling west toward the Rockies as our horses climbed into the hills, we reached a high meadow where the air was so clear and clean and the distant snow-capped Mount Zirkel appeared so close that it gave the illusion we could reach out and touch it. Big Bill called a halt at a grassy spot beside a burbling creek, and I was still drinking in the majestic scenery when both Big Bill and Long Jack came down off their horses and approached mine from either side. Big Bill encircled my waist with his sinewy arms from one side of the horse and Long Jack placed his big hands on my belly and the small of my back; both men were smiling at me.

"You've kept yourself in mighty fine shape, Mr. H.," Big Bill said. "Is what you've got there in your pants as nice a piece as it was last summer?"

"Check it out for yourself," I answered.

"Don't mind if I do."

As Big Bill was unzipping my jeans and fishing out my half-hard cock, Long Jack moved his hands up to my sternum and between my shoulder blades and pulled me flat across the back and croup of the horse. He kissed me deeply on the lips and played with my nipples, as Big Bill sucked my cock. The stallion held still, but it was trembling underneath me. Long Jack's mouth left mine and his lips traveled down to my nipples and then down across my navel, and he was joining Big Bill in mouthing my cock and balls. I laid there full length on the back of the horse, sighing and moaning and watching the snow-patterned ragged rocks of Mount Zirkel as the two wranglers shared my cock.

But then Big Bill got serious at sucking my tool and I looked around and saw that Long Jack had busied himself stripping the saddles off of the other two horses and laying them out in the middle of the grass clearing. Then he slowly stripped off his clothes, revealing a beautiful body-builder's physique. I could now see at least how he had gotten the "Long" part of his nickname. He came back and played my mouth and upper torso with his lips and hands again while Big Bill brought me to a groaning and moaning ejaculation with his insistent mouth.

When he was done, Big Bill's lips replaced those of Long Jack's on my lips. Then he whispered in my ear, "Are you ready for that ride now, Mr. H.?"

"Oh God yes," I replied. "I've been waiting for this for so long."

Big Bill pulled me off the horse and carried me over to one of the saddles resting in the center of the clearing. He stripped all of my clothes off except for my boots and the red bandana around my neck—and then he put my chaps on again, which left me bare at the pelvis fore and aft. Then he laid me across the dip in the saddle on my belly and tied my wrists to the stirrups of the saddle at each side with leather strips. After that, he stood where I could see him as he stripped down. His dong wasn't as long as Long Jack's, but it was much thicker, in keeping with his nickname. I moaned at the sight of it in remembrance of how he had plowed me the previous summer when I had visited these mountains.

He went over to the saddle bags on the other saddle and came back with a thick length of leather, a small riding crop, and several packets of condoms. Big Bill hunched down over me on the small of my back, his thick cock laying up between my shoulder blades. He brought the thick leather strap over my head and forced it into my mouth like a bit. Then he held the two ends of it like reins and pulled my head and back up to him in an arch and reached back with his other hand and started slapping me lightly on the buttocks as he rode my back, his cock rubbing up and down between my shoulder blades and mine rubbing up and down on the supple leather of the saddle seat. I could feel my back slicking up from the precum his cock was oozing as he stroked me. He rode me like a bucking horse like that for a while, eventually exchanging his hand slapping with flickings of the ride crop on my tender butt cheeks. He was making all of those rodeo shouts and gestures as he rode me. At length he reduced his gyrations to those of a trot, rubbing his cock up and down between my shoulder blades more deliberately; he stopped spanking and flicking my buttocks as I felt my butt cheeks being pulled apart and Long Jack tonguing and then fingering, with lubricant, my asshole.

Leaving Long Jack to prepare my ass for him, Big Bill stood beside me, and I watched him tear open a condom packet and sheath his monster cock with some difficulty. Then he was on my back again, rubbing the sheathed cock between my shoulder blades.

Long Jack's tongue and fingers disappeared and Big Bill slowly pulled his thick, now fully engorged cock back down along my spine until it dropped down into the crack between my butt cheeks and then was at my asshole. I arched my back against the reins and howled to the sky as he entered me with that huge cock and slowly plowed up my ass canal. When he was in to the root, he dropped the reins and I collapsed my head and chest onto the grass on the other side of the saddle and panted heavily at the filling and stretching of my canal.

"Oh God, oh God, you're splitting me," I cried.

"Do you want me to get off you?" Big Bill asked in a bit of confusion and concern. I was from the family; I could end his billet at the ranch with a snap of my fingers.

"Oh no, fuck me," I cried back at him. "I've been thinking of this for months. Fuck me hard."

And then I felt hands on my ankles; Long Jack was pulling my legs up and wishboning them, handling me like a wheelbarrow and opening me wider to Big Bill's tool and the older wrangler was riding my ass hard, just as I wanted him too. After a long, wild ride, he gave a little cry, quickly pulled out of me and pulled the sheath off and fired off across the small of my back. He rubbed the cum into my skin in strokings across my back with his still half-hard tool.

Long Jack was quickly untying my hands then, but not to free me. He pulled me up and turned me so that the small of my back was rising up the side of the saddle, my shoulder blades were flat on the grass, and my butt was suspended resting on the seat of the saddle and pointed toward the sky. Big Bill retied my wrists to the saddle stirrups while I watched Long Jack sheath his cock with a condom and then Big Bill and hunched over my chest, presenting his cock—moist from his man juice—for me to suck. I felt my legs being spread and Long Jack was snaking that long cock up into me and took his turn riding me long and vigorously while I bucked my pelvis up against his, meeting him stroke for stroke.

When Long Jack pulled out of me, ripped off his condom, and started to spout his semen all over my belly and the insides of my thighs, giving little cries of ecstasy all the while, I got the real point of his name—his ejaculation was unbelievably long and full. Big Bill freed me and we all ran down and splashed ourselves clean in cold mountain creek. As I was coming up out the water, though, Big Bill pushed me down onto my hands and knees in the grass and meadow flowers at the edge of the water and fucked me hard again doggie style. After he was done, I splashed back into the water and turned and watched Long Jack fuck Big Bill. They coupled like they did this regularly, which, no doubt, they did.

Big Bill cooked a meal over an open fire and we ate, stretched out against the saddles in the nude, as the warm late afternoon moved into a cooler twilight and the brilliant stars out in this mountain wilderness began to spread across the sky. The wranglers opened the sleeping bags then and spread them out, it being too warm to wrap ourselves in them considering the warmth we generated as Big Bill and Long Jack took turns riding me the whole night long out under a full moon glistening off the snowy Mount Zirkel peak.

The two wranglers managed to catch catnaps between fuckings, but they kept me awake all night. I didn't mind. I had been waiting for this for nearly a year—and that's when I thought I'd just have Big Bill to couple with. The blond stud was a real bonus.