The morning sun pierced through the cabin’s thin curtains with a brightness that felt too sharp for Tyler’s tired eyes. He had slept restlessly, with memories of Jackson’s dildo buried deep inside him fading in and out of his dreams. He lay there for a moment, staring at the wooden ceiling beams, his hole still sore from the intense workout it had endured. He noticed his bedsheets were sweaty and sticky, the dried cum on his chest and abs leaving an unmistakable musk in the air.
Tyler turned over to check his phone on the nightstand and saw it was 8:50.
“Shit!” he yelled aloud. He had only ten minutes before he was required to report for duty in the main lodge. Jackson had been supposed to set an alarm for 8:00 so they would have plenty of time to get ready. But when Tyler glanced over at Jackson’s bed, it was empty, the sheets rumpled. Had that bastard left without waking him—or, on second thought, had he not returned at all last night?
Tyler forced himself up, his muscles protesting from yesterday’s chores. There was no time to shower, so he sprayed a liberal amount of deodorant, hoping it would sufficiently mask his smell. He quickly pulled on his jeans and a fresh white tee, then dashed out the door. He sprinted to the main lodge, the gravel crunching under his boots, the crisp Wyoming air nipping at his skin.
Thomas was already there in the staff room, dominating the table with his broad shoulders and unyielding presence, a plate of eggs and bacon steaming in front of him. Oscar sat nearby, nursing a mug of coffee, his dark hair tousled just right, his olive skin glowing in the golden light filtering through the windows.
“Morning, boy, you’re cutting it really close,” Thomas rumbled, his steel-gray eyes lifting to meet Tyler’s, appraising him with that heavy gaze that always made Tyler’s stomach flip. “You look like you just rolled out of bed. Did one day of ranch life already wear you out?”
Tyler slid into a chair, grabbing a plate and piling it with food to avoid those piercing eyes. “Sorry, sir. I missed the alarm this morning. Jackson was supposed to set it.”
“Never rely on another man to shirk your responsibilities,” Thomas responded sharply. “Jackson had to get up early to tend to one of the horses. You could learn a bit about ranch discipline from him.”
Oscar chuckled, his warm voice cutting through the tension. “Oh, give him a bit of slack, Thomas. Remember it took me a while to get used to the ropes here. This city boy has only been here for two days; he’ll learn quickly enough.” Oscar turned and gave Tyler a wink.
Thomas set his fork down with a clink, leaning back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. “Enough chit-chat. Guests are arriving soon. Tyler, go check the trails to ensure nothing’s washed out from last week’s rain. Be back here to help with the welcome when the guests arrive—you’re to unload their bags and bring them to their cabin. Here, take this; staff use it to stay in contact.” He walked over and handed Tyler a walkie-talkie.
“For the afternoon, Oscar will start your horseback riding training,” Thomas continued. “You’ll need to learn quickly—can’t have you fumbling when we take guests out.”
“Don’t worry, I’m a good teacher,” Oscar said, a wide smile tugging at his square jaw.
“Thanks, I won’t let you down,” Tyler replied, the thought of being alone with Oscar sending a warm pulse through his body.
Thomas looked at the two of them from across the table. “Good, it’ll be a test for both of you. And Tyler—” He paused, his gaze locking on Tyler’s again. “Take a shower before the guests arrive; that deodorant isn’t covering anything up.”
–––
By noon, the first guests arrived, with a silver SUV pulling up the gravel drive with a low rumble. Dust settled as the doors opened, and out stepped a pair of men, older, perhaps in their fifties. The taller one had a neatly trimmed beard flecked with white, his silver hair swept back elegantly, dressed in designer jeans and a flannel shirt. His companion was shorter, rounder, and similarly dressed—with smooth-shaven cheeks flushed from the drive, his eyes wide with excitement as he took in the ranch.
“Welcome to Rockford Ranch,” Thomas called from the porch, striding forward with that commanding gait, his faded denim shirt hugging his broad chest. Oscar flanked him, offering a warm smile that lit up his handsome features. “I’m the owner, Thomas, and this is Oscar, the main ranch hand. You must be Richard and Mark.”
The bearded one extended a hand, his grip firm on Thomas’s. “The pleasure’s ours. I’m Richard, and this is my partner, Mark. We’ve heard so much about this place from our friends back in New York. They came last year and said it was…unforgettable. The perfect getaway for a couple like us.”
Mark nodded enthusiastically, his round face breaking into a grin as he shook Oscar’s hand. “Absolutely. We’re here to unplug, ride some horses, maybe get a little dirty.” His eyes twinkled as he looked around at the stables.
Thomas chuckled, a low, gravelly sound. “Well, you came to the right place. Boys—” He gestured to Jackson and Tyler, who stepped forward. “Help with the bags. Jackson here worked with us last summer; he knows the drill. Tyler’s our new hand. They’re both fresh from college wrestling, so they’ve got the muscle.”
Jackson flashed a grin, stepping up to grab a leather duffel with ease, his biceps flexing under his tight tee. “Right this way, gentlemen. Cabin three’s all set up for you—best view of the mountains.”
Richard’s eyes lingered on Jackson, tracing the lines of his body with unabashed appreciation. “Well, aren’t you a sight? Last summer’s star, I take it? Our friends mentioned the hospitality here is amazing.”
Jackson laughed, easy and confident, but Tyler caught the subtle flush on his neck. “You bet, sir, we aim to please.”
Tyler hefted the other bags, feeling the guests’ gazes on him too—Mark’s especially, soft and curious. “I’m Tyler,” he said with a smile. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Oh, we will,” Mark replied. “This place looks even better than the photos. Can’t wait to saddle up.”
–––
That afternoon, after the guests were settled, Tyler found Oscar in the stables, the air thick with hay dust, the earthy musk of horses, and the faint tang of leather polish. Sunlight slanted through the open doors, casting long shadows across the stalls where horses nickered softly.
“Ever been on a horse before?” Oscar asked, leaning against a post, handing Tyler a bridle with those strong, callused hands. He was wearing jeans and a tight black tank top that could barely contain his thick arms and chest, thick black chest hair spilling out from the top.
Tyler shook his head, embarrassed, his cheeks heating as he looked at Oscar’s muscular body. “No, sir. Closest I’ve been to a horse was at a petting zoo when I was a kid. Feels stupid admitting that now.”
Oscar chuckled, his rich voice echoing in the space, dark eyes glinting appraisingly. “Nothing stupid about it, kid. Everyone starts somewhere. We’ll take it easy—you’ll be in good hands.” The stables were hot, and Oscar was already starting to sweat. He stepped closer, his musk filling the air, making Tyler’s pulse quicken. “Trust me, by the end of this, you’ll be hooked.”
He led a chestnut horse from its stall, the animal’s coat glossy and warm under the sun. “This is Bandit. Gentle as they come. You treat him right, he’ll carry you anywhere—smooth ride, no bucking unless you ask for it.” Oscar moved with effortless strength, his arms on full display as he tightened the cinch with firm tugs, the leather creaking under his grip. Tyler couldn’t help staring—muscular veins prominent as Oscar gripped and pulled, brushing down the horse’s flank in long, deliberate strokes.
“Watch closely,” Oscar said, mounting first with a fluid swing, settling into the saddle like he was born there. “Foot in the stirrup, grip the horn, swing your leg over. Keep your weight balanced.”
Tyler nodded, heart pounding as he approached. “Like this?” He placed his foot, hauled himself up, jeans stretching tight over his glutes and ass, feeling exposed and clumsy perched high.
Oscar dismounted and stepped close to Tyler, his body heat radiating. “Almost. But you’re tense as a coiled spring.” One hand settled on Tyler’s thigh, warm and firm through the denim, thumb tracing a slow line along the inner seam. “Relax here. Horses sense fear. Loosen your hips; let the motion flow through you.”
Tyler exhaled shakily, the touch igniting a spark that shot straight to his groin. “Easier said than done.”
Oscar’s hand squeezed gently, lingering. “You’ve got strong legs from wrestling. Use that. Back straight, hips loose.” He looked up, smiling, eyes locking on Tyler’s. “There you go. Feels better, doesn’t it?”
Heat flooded Tyler’s face as Bandit shifted, the subtle rock sending friction through his body. “Yeah… yeah, it does.”
They rode out into the pasture, slow loops under the vast blue sky, mountains looming like silent witnesses. Oscar’s horse kept pace, his voice guiding: “Heel down, reins loose. Good—see how he responds? You’re a natural, Tyler. Those thighs of yours grip just right.”
Under Oscar’s guidance, it didn’t take long before Tyler really started to get the hang of it. By the end of an hour, they had already progressed to an intermediate trail before heading back to the stables.
As Tyler tried to dismount, his thighs burned, and he felt how sore his ass was from the saddle’s unyielding pressure. “The dismount can be tricky,” Oscar said, walking over to guide him down. As Tyler turned around, their bodies pressed for a moment chest to chest. Tyler could feel the sweat from Oscar’s tank top and the heat of his barely covered, hairy body underneath.
“Not bad at all for your first time,” Oscar said, his voice husky, his hand on Tyler’s waist lingering for a moment before releasing. “We’ll do more tomorrow. You’ve got potential.”
Tyler nodded, his cock throbbing in his jeans, barely hidden. “Thanks, Oscar. I appreciate it.”
–––
On the way back from the stables, Tyler decided to cut through the woods and finish checking the trails that Thomas had instructed him to inspect earlier that morning. He followed a dense trail that led to a stream, stopping to pick up any large branches. As the sound of the stream grew louder, Tyler also started to notice another sound—of someone grunting. His heart quickened, worried that a guest might have tripped and fallen, and he rushed ahead toward the noise. Then, about 100 feet ahead through the trees, in a sun-dappled clearing by the stream, he saw them.
Jackson was on his knees in the dirt, his back toward Tyler. He was stripped to nothing but his boots and a black jockstrap that clung desperately to his sweat-slicked ass, the thin straps framing his firm, rounded cheeks. His dark blond hair was matted with sweat, which trickled down his muscular back.
Standing in front of him was Richard, his shirt unbuttoned and pants pooled at his feet. His face was flushed as he thrust his cock rapidly in and out of Jackson’s mouth. Richard groaned, his bearded face twisted in ecstasy, one hand fisted roughly in Jackson’s hair, yanking him forward with a tug.
“That’s it, boy—suck it like you mean it. Take every inch, you eager little slut.”
Jackson moaned as his mouth was assaulted by Richard. His hands gripped Richard’s hairy thighs, pulling himself deeper as he continued to bob with desperate enthusiasm.
“Fuck, your mouth’s a goddamn vacuum. I can feel your throat clenching around me, like it’s starved for cock. Let’s see how deep you can take it.” Richard thrust all the way in and held onto Jackson’s head. Jackson started to gag as saliva pooled out of his mouth. Richard pulled out, finally giving Jackson a chance to breathe.
“Thank you, sir, for letting me taste your thick cock,” Jackson said as he looked up at Richard. “Please, can I have some more?”
“You really are a needy slut. You’ve lived up to your reputation. Ever since we heard about you from our friends last summer, we knew we had to come here and try you out ourselves.”
“Then you have to stop hogging him and let me try too,” Mark said as he stepped out from the trees opposite where Tyler was hiding. Mark was already naked, his round body covered by a layer of thick fur in full display. But Tyler’s attention was immediately drawn to his cock—even from a distance, it was the thickest he had ever seen.
“Bend down on all fours, boy.”
Jackson quickly complied as Mark knelt down behind him and started groping his jockstrap-framed ass.
“Look at this juicy jock ass—tight and ready, already winking at me like it’s begging to be wrecked,” Mark growled, slapping Jackson’s cheek hard with an open palm, the crack echoing through the trees, leaving a bright red imprint.
He spat a thick wad directly onto the hole and inserted a finger. “Damn, boy, you’re already wet inside. Ready for my thick cock?”
“Yes, sir, my hole’s all yours.”
Mark took his cock and pressed the flushed head—purple and swollen—against Jackson’s exposed hole, teasing the puckered entrance with slow circles. Then he started pushing in, slow at first, savoring the stretch as Jackson’s ring clenched around the invading head. Jackson continued to take it, inch after girthy inch, until Mark’s cock finally bottomed out with a wet, resounding slap of skin on skin.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing my dick so tight I can feel your pulse,” Mark hissed, his round belly pressing against Jackson’s back as he ground in deep, rotating his hips to grind against Jackson’s muscular ass.
Richard stepped up and grabbed Jackson by the hair again. “Look up, boy, and arch that back. Put my cock back in your mouth.”
The rhythm built into a savage cadence—Mark slamming forward with punishing force, flesh slapping loudly against Jackson’s ass, the impact sending jolts through Jackson’s body that forced him deeper onto Richard’s shaft. Richard matched the pace, fucking Jackson’s throat with brutal depth, balls slapping heavily against his chin.
“Tell us,” Richard demanded, yanking Jackson’s hair to pull him off just enough for a gasp.
Jackson panted desperately, voice wrecked and hoarse, coughing up a mix of saliva and pre-cum. “I crave it—fuck, I need it. Use my holes, stretch me wide, fill me up like the cum-dump slut I am. Please, don’t stop—ruin me, breed me deep.”
They obliged—Richard shoving back in, fucking his throat with renewed savagery, the gags turning into wet, choking gurgles as spit bubbled from the corners of his mouth; Mark pounding his ass relentlessly, hand coming down in sharp, stinging spanks that left overlapping red prints on Jackson’s cheeks. He reached around to pinch Jackson’s nipples hard, twisting them until Jackson whimpered. “That’s it, boy—milk my cock like the greedy hole you are,” Mark ordered, angling his thrusts to hammer Jackson’s prostate repeatedly.
Jackson’s body quaked between them, muscles taut and quivering under the assault, sweat dripping down his back and chest, pooling in the dirt below. His own cock throbbed untouched in the confining jockstrap pouch, a dark wet spot spreading as pre-cum soaked through.
Richard’s breaths grew ragged. “Ready for my cum, boy?”
“Yes, sir, please give me your cum,” Jackson begged.
“That’s right—swallow every drop, you filthy jock slut.” He buried himself deep, groaning as he erupted, hot ropes of cum flooding Jackson’s throat, forcing him to gulp convulsively, some spilling from his lips as he struggled to take it all.
Mark followed suit, slamming in one last time. “Fuck, take my load, boy.” His cock pulsed, unloading deep inside. As he withdrew, cum leaked out around his shaft, trickling down Jackson’s thighs in creamy rivulets.
Tyler watched from behind the trees, frozen and in shock, his cock aching hard against his zipper. As the threesome started to get up, he quickly turned around and began running back up the trail before he could get caught.
