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  CHAPS

  Rodeo Boys # 3

  Gavin E. Black

  Copyright Notice

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidences, and dialog are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  CHAPS; Rodeo Boys #3 Copyright © 2018 by Gavin E. Black (Leigh Jarrett). All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. All trademarks are the property of the respective owners.

  Published by Steambath Press (self-published)

  eBook Edition published November 2018

  ISBN: 978-1-927553-47-3

  Chaps

  Garrett rolled over onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes, breathing heavily. His skin was glistening with sweat, his hair damp—his cock lying spent atop his thigh. He sighed, set one hand on his stomach, and used his forearm to wipe the perspiration from the bridge of his nose.

  I closed my eyes, exhausted. Garrett had been pummeling my ass, riding me bareback—breeding me gloriously raw for much of the afternoon in the stifling heat. The brand-new air conditioning unit in the RV was on the fritz and had chosen to withhold any significant cooling for the duration of Garrett's attempts to wear me out.

  I twisted my wrists within the restraints Garrett had used to secure me face down on his bed, a pull-out couch next to the dining area. A trickle of sweat ran down from my hairline and across my lips. I licked it away along with the load of cum Garrett had smeared on my lips.

  The RV had been excruciatingly stifling before we'd even started, but that hadn't stopped us. The steer-wrestling event had ended at half-past noon, and we'd barely made it back to the RV with our clothes intact.

  The sight of Garrett wrestling steers to the ground during the bulldogging event had given me such an intense hard-on, I'd had to jump down from the guardrail to keep anyone from seeing how turned on my cock was by my buddy's display of strength and skill.

  Watching Garrett leap off his horse, down onto those steer—had conjured images of him doing the same to me. Leaping on me, pinning me down,—fucking me into oblivion. Garrett could subdue me with minimal effort compared to the six-hundred-pound beasts he'd taken down today.

  Typically, I would've been out there with Garrett, but my horse had come up lame, so Garrett had decided, rather than withdraw from the event, to chat up a few guys and find himself a new hazer. He'd been lucky to find one willing. Retired, mind you, but skilled. Garrett had achieved 3.5 seconds as his best score for the event. Not fast enough to win, but a respectable time.

  Seeking relief from the stifling heat and dampness, I attempted to catch a proper breath by lifting my head and shifting my ass atop the pillow Garrett had placed beneath my hips. Lazy rivulets of warm cum escaped my battered hole, further coating my balls.

  Garrett grunted, righted himself, and climbed back on top of me, slipping his semi-erect cock into my ass. There was no resistance, just his cock dipping in and out of my slick, gaping hole.

  He adjusted his position, not satisfied, and grasped the slippery flesh of my ass and drove both thumbs in alongside his cock, filling the space somewhat. His hips slammed against my ass, his fingers digging into my skin, his thumbs stretching me wider.

  More of the cum he'd filled me with oozed onto the pillow.

  Determined to punish me further, Garrett pushed on my thighs until my knees were bent up beneath me. My hips ached as he thrust into me one final time.

  He slipped his cock from my ass but left one of his thumbs in place, the fingers of his left hand playing along the edges of my hole. I grunted as he pressed a cupped hand partway into my ass. We'd never done much fisting, but my ass was prime for it after the beating it had taken.

  I rocked forward, struggling to my knees and allowed Garrett to explore deeper into my hole. I shut my eyes as he tested my pain pleasure boundary. I knew he wouldn't go further without the proper amount of lube, but the depth he was currently at stirred my desire for more.

  "Please …" I whispered as I squirmed to better position myself. Garrett hesitated behind me in silence then rotated his hand inside me causing me to clench my jaw, to avoid crying out.

  His hand slipped away, and his sweaty chest came to rest on my back, knocking me off my knees, flat onto the bed again. He nuzzled the skin behind my ear. His lips, his teeth—his hot breath welcome despite the heat.

  "Maybe later," he sighed against the back of my neck, and kissed it, then reached up and released my restraints.

  As he withdrew, rolled off me, and stretched out on his back, I groaned with a combination of disappointment and exhilaration as a breeze of relative cool swept across my skin.

  "Damn air conditioner." I rose to my feet and walked over to the useless piece of machinery that was meant to keep our confined space cool. "Not that I mind getting sweaty with you, but—"

  I turned toward the bed, the rustling sound of sheets behind me alerting me to the fact Garrett was headed for the shower with no acknowledgment as to whether he'd heard me.

  We'd been on the rodeo grounds since Friday morning, and Garrett had avoided most of my attempts to engage him in any conversation beyond, 'Fuck me harder.'

  I grabbed the towel we'd tossed off to one side of Garrett's bed and attempted to clean myself off somewhat. My balls, my cock, the skin of my ass, my back, my stomach… nearly every inch of me was coated in cum, both his and mine. Combined with my own perspiration, I was a mess.

  I slid the bathroom door open, releasing a cloud of steam.

  "I'm going to open some windows," I said to Garrett through the glass of the shower stall. "Maybe we'll be able to catch some airflow."

  "Sure. Whatever."

  I threw the towel at the dirty laundry hamper in frustration. Garrett's lack of engagement in our usual jovial banter was pushing me beyond a state of mild irritation. "Once I've done that, I'm going to throw open the side door and step outside so the breeze can cool my balls."

  I could hear Garrett snort in amusement. Then he was quiet again. I'd planned on joining him in the shower, but that was out of the question now.

  "Fine," I whispered to myself, then slid the bathroom door closed with more force than I'd intended. It bounced, slamming against the frame, causing it to open again.

  "Hey," Garrett shouted from the shower. "Watch the door."

  "It's my goddamn door," I whispered to myself and pulled a shirt on over my head. "I'm going to grab a cold beer. I'll see you out front." I yanked my jeans on.

  "Aren't you going to have a shower—?"

  Barefoot and shirtless, I slammed the exterior screen door behind me mumbling, "Not when it's occupied by someone who can barely look at me when he's not fucking me."

  I ran my hand through my sweat-dampened hair and cracked open the cold beer I'd grabbed from the fridge inside, and held it to my forehead.

  Garrett's change in behavior …it had started when he'd bent me over that Gator in the fields of my family's ranch. Then the restroom stall, breathing hard down the back of my neck, kissing it, nibbling and sucking at my ear. So incredibly intimate …so unlike him.

  I sunk into one of the lawn chairs beneath our shade canopy and set the beer on the ground. "Fuck." I bent forward, supporting myself on my knees, and put my face in my hands.

  I honestly felt like I was losing him. The kiss he'd just laid on the back of my neck before letting me up from his bed had felt very much like a good-bye.

  "Hey, Dirk …buddy!" A smiling face with a mop of curly, blond hair haphazardly jammed beneath a battered straw Stetson, peered under the canopy. "I hoped I'd find you guys at home.
"

  He looked around. "Where's Garrett?"

  I lifted my beer from the ground and took a swig. "In the shower. We spent all afternoon fucking in my brand-new glorified sweatbox …" I cocked my head toward the RV.

  Austin was fully aware of the extra-curricular relationship Garrett and I had. He'd joined us numerous times in the past. Austin wasn't our usual pursuit, he identified as unequivocally gay, but he was always the perfect amount of kinky to sway us.

  "Pretty sweet rig," Austin said. "Your air broke already?"

  I smirked. "Probably overstressed the thing. Couldn't exactly open the windows with Garrett being as loud as he usually is."

  "True, true." Austin set his hands on his hips. "I could look at it. As you well know, I'm talented with my hands …including working with machinery."

  A voice behind me, "Hey, Austin."

  I looked over my shoulder. Garrett had immerged wearing nothing but a towel. He was grinning, seemingly in a fantastic mood, unlike the sullen attitude I'd been putting up with.

  My grip tightened around my beer. I was about to take off toward the stables to check on the horses when my eye caught a goddamn carbon copy of Austin striding across the camping area toward us, brushing at his dusty chaps to knock clumps of dirt free.

  "Austin?" I blinked, not certain if I was seeing things. Garrett had fucked me into a state of mind-altering euphoria, but it had long since passed. "Austin …do you have a twin?"

  I peered over my shoulder at Garrett. He had the same glimmer in his eye I'm sure I was sporting—along with a rapid onset hard-on.

  "You never thought to mention this?" I asked Austin as I turned back to face him.

  Austin simply laughed and ushered his twin beneath the shade canopy to join us. "Guys, this is my brother, Nash. Nash, these are the two I was telling you about, Dirk and Garrett."

  Nash nodded his acknowledgment, tipping his hat, then looked off into the distance. He might look precisely like Austin, but his twin's gregarious personality seemed to have bypassed him.

  "Beer," Garrett asked from behind me. Upon a positive response from Austin and Nash, Garrett must've dropped his towel before stepping back into the RV, because Austin let out a low appreciative whistle. Whereas, Nash looked as if he were about to pass out.

  There was no way Garrett's long, thick cock would've remained soft with the prospect of fucking around with twins.

  Austin smirked and looked over at me. "Okay, Dirk here's the deal. My brother here …he's straight, but he's looking to experiment."

  A low, rumbling growl escaped Garrett's lips as he re-immerged from the RV behind me.

  I rubbed my cock through my jeans. It wanted out—now. No foreplay required.

  When it came to Austin, experimenting could mean different things. Usually, grossly obscene things, so I wasn't sure what including his twin brother was going to entail.

  "Where do you want to do this?" I asked Austin. "The RV would be too cramped for all of us. Plus, too hot." I wrinkled my brow. "I'm assuming—praying you're sticking around for this."

  "Yeah …but I have boundaries," Austin replied as he placed his arm around his brother. "I also have somewhere in mind." He cocked his chin toward an abandoned horse trailer parked at the far end of the rodeo grounds, backed against some old hedge beside the outdoor arena.

  It also sat squarely alongside a grassy area where the organizers had set up a tented beer garden. We'd be wedged between two public spaces.

  "Twisted, as usual, Austin," Garrett said as he walked toward the twins and handed them their beers. He nudged Nash—and stroked his ass as he passed back around him. "Nothing you need to be worried about. Your brother is a freak, but I promise to take care of you."

  I leaned back in my chair and pressed my bare foot against Garrett's bare ankle. "You sure you can muster up enough energy to do this today?"

  Garrett grunted and stepped away from me, out of my reach.

  Too much. Too familiar.

  Too affectionate.

  I had no idea where the line was anymore.

  "I'm fine." Garrett walked back over to where Nash was standing and put his arm around Nash's shoulders. "Just not planning on doing any topping is all." He clenched his jaw as he stared at me and adjusted his hat to shade his eyes. "What about you? Had enough yet?"

  I crossed my arms, apprehension creeping into my gut. Garrett had never suggested I sit out before. That he head out on his own. "What exactly are you suggesting? That I need a nap?"

  Garrett shrugged.

  "And here I thought you knew me." I rose out of my chair. "Let me shower first."

  "Excellent." Austin clapped his hands together, oblivious to the tension between Garrett and me. He slung a small backpack onto his shoulder. In true Austin style, he'd come prepared. There'd be no need for us to bring any condoms and lube of our own.

  The doors of the abandoned horse trailer creaked open, allowing light to stream into the dank, darkened space. Austin brushed aside a few cobwebs as he stepped inside, then turned and hauled Nash in after him. He shoved him against the back wall of the trailer, bouncing him off it.

  Austin had unlatched his belt on the walk away. His Stetson discarded on the grass outside the trailer. Garrett and I held back, waiting to see what Austin had in mind. He appeared to have a plan, starting with removing Nash's hat and tossing it in the hayloft.

  As Nash stood perfectly still, Austin unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, then appeared to think better of it, and ripped Nash's shirt open to the waist. He stroked his hand across his brother's chest, tweaking at his nipples, then moved down his brother's torso.

  I reached over and grabbed onto Garrett's arm, my heart leaping to double time as Austin unlatched his brother's belt buckle.

  "Damn …," Garrett whispered. I looked over at him, his attention captured by the scene unfolding. Austin had removed Nash's shirt, told him to kick his boots off, ditch his socks. He circled around Nash, running his hands all over his brother's body—chest, shoulders—thighs.

  Nash's eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling dramatically.

  Austin stripped Nash's belt from the loops of his jeans, folded it in two and tapped the robust, metal buckle to the center of Nash's chest.

  Nash exhaled seductively, licked his lips, and tipped his head back, submissive.

  I nudged Garrett. "I think Austin has misled us somewhat about his brother."

  "Figures." Garrett laughed. "We are talking about Austin." He stepped up into the trailer, walked toward the men, and took possession of Austin's face with one hand—and kissed him.

  A shiver ran down my spine and coiled in my gut as their kiss deepened, hands searching for ways inside their clothing. Nash moved closer to them and stole Garrett's attention away, laying his hand on Garrett's shoulder, and sealing Garrett's lips to his own.

  The three men faced one another, their breath mingling within the intimate space they'd created between them, Austin's hands on the back of each man's neck—so incredibly close.

  I hopped up into the trailer, my cock pressing fiercely against the fabric of my jeans. Nash released Garrett's lips, panting—flushed, his bare chest heaving with each breath. He turned toward his brother, and their hungry, wet lips closed in against each other.

  My blood surged in response, swelling my cock further, aching—tight.

  Garrett's lips were nearly touching theirs, his presence encouraging them, each hand on one of their shoulders, pressing them closer.

  Austin returned to Garrett, taking his face in both hands, and man-handled him against the side wall of the trailer before attacking his mouth, frantically tugging at his clothes, lifting his shirt, struggling with his belt buckle. They were both laughing like a couple of kids.

  Nash turned around to face me, unzipping his pants. He let them fall to the damp floor of the trailer and kicked them aside, his semi-erect cock bobbing with each movement, his shy demeanor overtaken by desperate lust. He reached down and picked up
his brother's backpack.

  I peered over at Garrett. He and Austin were fully involved, oblivious to Nash and me, their jeans undone, strong hands stroking hard cocks. A slight rocking of the trailer issued a warning, metal creaking, a reminder that our location and what we were up to was precarious—easily exposed. My cock pulsed at the thought of some passerby overhearing us.

  I looked back at Nash and stumbled backward a step. He'd removed a pair of worn, mahogany-brown, leather chaps from Austin's backpack, and was buckling them in place around his hips. His lean, muscular chest, glistening with sweat ended at the low-slung belt of the chaps. Beneath that, his cock remained free, exposed atop the fringed leggings that ended at his bare feet.

  He turned from me, facing his brother and Garrett, his smooth, tight ass framed perfectly by a continuation of the cut-away opening. Unable to resist, I stepped up behind him and wrapped both arms around his hips, first running my fingers up his chest, then down to position them on his thighs to hold him steady, so I could press my cock up against the crease of his ass.

  I nuzzled the side of Nash's neck, my lips, my tongue teasing him until he hummed and reached back for me, pleading softly for more.

  I sunk to my knees, nearly oblivious to the raucous sound of drunken laughter echoing through the metal hull of the trailer from the adjoining beer tent. A light breeze blew through the open doors causing the pale blond hair on the back of Nash's legs to rise.

  "Turn …I want at your ass."

  Nash hesitated, but then turned and supported himself against the edge of the hayloft as he bent forward, the setting sun casting a soft orange glow on his skin. His tense, muscular ass filled my hands as I spread him open. I licked my thumb and circled his hole with it.

  The tight ring clenched shut then reluctantly released—beautifully resistant.

  Nash shifted his stance and lowered his head. I could hear him whispering calming words to himself. Perhaps, he wasn't as experienced as I had assumed.

  I unlatched my buckle and hauled my jeans open, releasing my cock. Foreplay wasn't going to be an option. His quiet disposition, his willingness—those damn chaps.