Ranch Hands

Billy Berlin wears nothing but boots and a jockstrap on the shed floor, palms and knees planted, hole aimed back at Erik Rhodes. Erik keeps his hat on, jeans tight around his thighs. He loosens Billy first, fingers working quick and deep. Then the gloves shine with lube and the real pounding starts, knuckles driving in and out, leather smacking wet skin. Erik pops the buttons on his fly. His cock springs up, thick and dark against the denim. He drags Billy onto his back, lifts one boot high on his shoulder, and sinks in again. With each upward thrust Billy’s belly rises, skin stretched tight over the hidden fist. Erik keeps driving, forearm sliding in to the elbow, then wrenching back for the next punch. Billy’s breath turns ragged. His hand slips under the jock, strokes hard, and he shoots across his own stomach while Erik’s arm stays buried, twisting inside him.