Collin Broderick is a tall, handsome, studly, bronco rider in these parts of the great “Man’s Land” of Montana. He’s the larger-than-life, 28-year-old son of now deceased, Caldwell E. Broderick. Old man Broderick was a millionaire legend in these parts until bad times and high living laid him in the grave. And ownership of those thousands of acres of Broderick-land has been redirected. The only piece of property left is a 90-acre stretch of elevated land called Broderick’s Mountain, which the old man bequeathed to his only son, Collin. And up on that mountain there’s a handsome, three-bedroom cabin that Broderick built years ago for his son, and the woman that he would someday marry.
But the grief of losing his father put 21-year-old Collin Broderick on a raucous, self-defeating path of drinking, women and wild living. He lost all interest in college, and the taking-over of his father’s floundering lumber business. And by the time he’d reached his 26th birthday, his fathers ex-business managers had robbed the dwindling estate dry, leaving Collin only the cabin up on Broderick’s mountain, and a debt of $130,000 in back taxes.
At that time, Collin decided to clean up his act and make his hobby of bronco riding into a profession. At which, he found a great deal of money, fame and adoration waiting for him in these parts of the great northwest. But all that attention on the rodeo circuit was also accompanied by a host of criminal hangers-on. And several months ago the gregarious Collin Broderick found himself, unwittingly, entrenched in a gambling ring, and was arrested.
But as luck would have it, and Lady Luck always plays a huge part in Collin Broderick’s life, multi-millionaire, cattle baron, Doyle “Duke” Sanderson, bailed the headstrong young man out of jail. Sanderson, a good friend of old man Broderick, set in motion a legal team to collect information on the gambling ring in effort to eventually exonerate Collin. In the meantime, the charismatic young man was to help out on his spread until matters could be settled. Ironically enough, Broderick’s Mountain bordered on “Duke” Sanderson’s property, 12 miles away.
“Duke” Sanderson also has a son. An 18-year-old son named Brent, who was born when Sanderson was 42-years-old. Brent was his pride and joy. And well he should be. Brent Sanderson, a five-foot, nine-inch, effulgent bundle of tight, trim, rough-n-tumble, masculinity, was a true vision to behold. His radiant, fresh-faced, almost-angelic appearance was often a rather disarming presence to many. His great shock of curly, cornsilk blond hair; piercing, cobalt blue eyes; high cheekbones, and full, pink, pouty mouth, have made both male and female go weak in the knees. Old Man Sanderson has on occasion noticed how certain otherwise mature, brutishly-masculine males have become unwittingly boyish and awkward, even flirtatious, around is son. As result, old “Duke” believes he has made every brainwashing effort possible to guarantee that his pride-and-joy never ever becomes a male of “dubious” masculinity.
Well, big, brutishly-masculine, Collin Broderick, too, seemed to fall prey to Brent Sanderson’s blinding beauty. Collin and “Duke” had arrived late the night before, and the next morning, en route down to breakfast, Collin encountered the handsome prince leaving his room. They both, seemingly in tandem, stopped paralyzed in their steps, standing there looking at the other, as though two deer blinded by the glare of headlights. Collin being the older, man-of-the-world type, soon recovered presence of mind to awkwardly chortle, “Hey, there, dude, you’re “Duke” Sanderson’s son, Brent, right?” With that, he crossed the ten feet that distanced them, saying, “Heard a lot about ya, dude”, and extended his huge hand.
For the first time, the easy-going, 6-foot-2-inch, 180lb Adonis found himself feeling awkward. He, self-consciously, put a nervous hand up to scratch his curly array of chocolate brown locks, as his smoky green eyes peered into the cobalt blue sea of Brent’s scrutinizing stare.
Hence, the two very beautiful young men seemed to ambulate within the boundaries of some euphoric, multi-hued mist of an ancient, eros-drenched bubble for the balance of the day. If one dared to look in the direction of the other, the other would quickly and shyly look away, as a sweet, almost imperceptible, smile of appreciation and gratification played at the corners of the lips. Yet, both seemed to fear that even the slightest utterance, or the slightest acknowledgement of the other, would somehow obliterate some sort of divine protection they possessed, leaving them both incredibly vulnerable to the ravages of an unrecognized damnation.
It wasn’t until dinner that the two got a grip on the situation. It was when old man “Duke” Sanderson remarked that it appeared to him that the horrific tide of advancing homosexuality in America was finally being stemmed by the current, powers-that-be in Washington. He then went on to pontificate that he was so glad that there was little, if any, such sexual perversion in Montana; that Montana was “God’s Country”. This was followed by a litany anti-Gay rhetoric; which eventually had him voicing thanks to god that his son had been adequately educated to fully understand the perils of such damning behaviors -- of which he, himself, was very proud.
Throughout this sermon, the two young men stopped being coy and bravely faced each other across the table. It appeared to Collin that Brent’s mind was struggling considerably in trying to digest Sanderson’s patently idiotic words. Collin Broderick had always felt that in the “land of the free”, every one of us should be allowed to express that freedom in any way, legally, possible.
The two didn’t see each other for several days, when Collin saw the teenager riding down to the tack house where he was working. At first Brent, completely ignoring the bronco rider, acted as though he were searching for something. Collin, knowing the game, ignored him. Finally, the very spoiled and rather annoyed teenager walked over to him, leading his horse. He questioned Collin with a host of superfluous questions that really had nothing to do with anything, given that the kid had lived there all his life and should have known all the answers. But Collin merely loved looking at kid; loved watching him; loved listening to him. He imagined that Brent Sanderson must be what he’d heard folks refer to as poetry in motion.
Then the questions got personal. He asked Collin about his cabin up on Broderick Mountain and why he didn’t ride the 12 miles home when he finished work at night. Collin explained that “Duke” wanted him on the premises 24 hours a day; that way he would always be able vouch for his activities.
“Folks say it’s a really beautiful cabin,” said Brent.
“Yup, sure is.” replied Collin.
“Folks say your daddy built it for you and your future wife. Do you take all you girlfriends up there? Folks say you’ve got loads of girlfriends.” said Brent.
“Seems to be a whole lot of folks saying a whole lot of stuff,” replied Collin with a lopsided grin, “And you can tell them folks that the only female that’s seen the place is my Mexican housekeeper, who shows up once a week to keep it tidy.”
“Well, I’ve heard that…” began Brent. But Collin quickly cut in with a “Whoa! Whoa, there, little fella! No more personal questions, okay?”
Everything fell quiet for a few seconds; then out of nowhere, Brent begins talking about dreams and nightmares, and what they can possibly mean. Collin’s ears perked up because this had always been of interest to him, as well. He’d always enjoyed investigating how the unconscious mind, and subconscious mind, could possibly map-out a person’s waking hours. The teenager went on and on about some of the really fucked-up dreams he often had, and they had kinda scared him. But had been afraid to mention it to his dad.
Wanting to listen to, and watch, the phenomenon of Brent Sanderson for the rest of the day, but Collin had to put an end to the little chinwag. There were tons of chores to be done that “Duke” wanted completed before he got back. So Collin told the animated teenager that they could discuss his dreams anytime in the future that he liked. But at the moment, he really had to get back to work.
For several seconds, those gorgeous cobalt blue eyes searched Collin’s face. The disappointment of feeling like a dismissed child possessed the teenager. Quick as lightening, the rather spoiled Brent Sanderson jumped on his Palomino, and wildly galloped off. With bemusement, Collin could not but help watch the handsome, hot-tempered apparition riding away. “Now that’s some hot shit!” he heard himself saying aloud.
What was happening to him, the bronco rider wondered. He had never seriously thought about making-out with a guy before. Of course there were the one or two times where he thought it might be a real blast to let a painted-up drag queen give him head, just for the freak value of it. But, he had never before had the kinds of feelings that now possessed about wanting to go the-whole-distance with a man. He was neither afraid, nor resentful, of what he was feeling; he just didn’t understand it.
Several nights later Brent wasn’t able to sleep after a disturbing dream, and found himself walking down past Collin’s bedroom. His heart began to quickly pound, exhilarated at the thought of seeing Collin in his own space. He just couldn’t help himself, no matter how hard he had tried -- he loved the handsome, lusty bronco rider; loved him far greater than he would ever know. Even if he was going to burn in hell for all eternity, he could not, nor would deny his love for Collin Broderick. Conversely, he was certain that Collin merely saw him as the spoiled, wise-ass son whose father gave him everything he wanted – just like everyone else did.
As he passed Collin’s bedroom, he heard the TV playing. And recalling the conversation he’d had with Collin a few days ago about nightmares, he steeled himself, and lightly knocked on the door.
“Yo!” came Collin’s voice from the other side of the door. Slowly, Brent opened the door into the room.
Seeing that it was Brent, Collin’s eyes widened and sparkled. “Come on in, dude, what’s up?”
Collin lay sprawled on his bed in the half-lit room watching some roadside flic with Patrick Swayze. The middle part of his undressed body was tangled up in the top sheet and Brent couldn’t figure out whether or not the muscular stud was naked.
“Couldn’t sleep,” began Brent, crossing into the room. Then, dropping into a chair near the bed, said: “Another fucked-up dream”.
“Damn, bad news dude” replied Collin sitting up in bed, “Are you alright? Here! Over here!” commanded his deep baritone voice, patting on the bed beside him. “Sit your bony ass over here on the bed and talk to me.”
Brent seemed to flush with abundant life. His entire body tingled as he rose up out the chair, and soon found himself sitting on the edge of the bed with his dream-come-true, friend. Brent wore a pair of jeans, without underwear, and all of a sudden he felt as if he were naked; completely and totally naked. Collin scooted down on the bed closer to the seemingly frail, slightly trembling teenager. Brent’s brain dizzied with the intoxicating aroma of Collin’s musky manly body. He tried vigorously to avoid Collin’s green, penetrating eyes, fearing that the man would see his blatant, schoolboy lust. But when Collin’s large calloused hand slid onto Brent’s smooth satiny shoulder, the blonde, blue-eyed teenager swiftly turned and looked firmly into the commanding gaze of the bronco-riding cowhand. As he looked into those eyes, Brent felt his attention being drawn down to the huge stiff phallus that now twitched between those hairy manly legs just under the thin covers. Yup, concluded the teenager, Collin Broderick was naked as a newborn beneath that tangled sheet.
Collin’s huge head with that massive mane of curly brown locks eased in Brent’s direction and came to rest atop the teenager’s head.
“Don’t worry, little buddy, you’re safe now! Big bad Broderick is here to slay all those big bad demons and dragons.” said Collin, hugging the young man very tightly in his massive, masculine, arms. Then releasing the kid, Collin scooted back up toward the head of the bed, pulling the kid along with him. The big bronco rider then tossed the sheet aside, lay back down on the bed, and pulled a very startled Brent on top of him. The teenager’s mind began swimming in a blissful abyss of confusion. He hadn’t expected, in the least, such behavior from Collin. He thought that all the lust was one-sided; his. When he finally caught his breath, Brent realized he was in a state of arousal never before experienced. He had never in his life had sex with anyone. And now, here he was, half-naked with a fully naked six-foot-two cowboy.
He felt the man’s huge, imploring cock beating spastically on his upper legs. Collin’s huge muscular arms were across his naked back, holding him tightly; a huge hand every now and then, soothing his tender, satiny back. He also felt the smooth, hard musculature of Collin’s chest and stomach. No one really knows what a ‘six-pack’ looks like until they’ve seen Collin Broderick’s body, thought the teenager, as he rejoiced in this extraordinary moment of unforeseen sexual excitement.
Brent’s forehead and his beautiful array of silken blonde hair were resting chin-level with Collin’s face, and Collin generously kissed that forehead; and with it, its pretty, tousled, silken hair. He wholly celebrated the breathtaking beauty of the unusually handsome teenage kid that lay nearly-naked on his muscular, faintly haired chest. He not only loved Brent’s physical beauty, but he also greatly respected the kid’s sense of equality and fairness in this bloodthirsty, dog-eat-dog world. Since his dad’s death, Collin Broderick had come to accept that “everybody wants to use you for somethin” – and on many occasions, over the past few months, he’d declared that he didn’t trust one mutha fucker on this whole gaddam planet. But, now, each and every passing day had brought him closer and closer to a beautiful and trusting enigma named Brent Sanderson, and wanted to disavow that statement. For at this moment, he had completely surrendered his complete trust to this powerfully gifted kid.
Collin felt the throbbing, tensing urgency of his nine-inch cock. It quivered mercilessly and hotly stretched and trembled there between him and Brent. And what aroused him all the more was feeling Brent’s sexual energy growing more and more responsive to him by the second. Slowly, his huge, calloused hands tried to insert themselves inside the kid’s loose fitting jeans. He groaned faintly when he felt the moist warmth of Brent’s upper ass. There was no other texture in the world that was equal to that quintessence. Being unable to navigate too deeply inside the jeans, in a flurry of action, Brent slipped his hands between them, unfastened the jeans, and Collin soon found himself with two grateful handfuls of totally perfect teenage ass cheeks. He squeezed and squeezed as Brent shoved the jeans down his legs, and then kicked them free. Simultaneously, he had squirmed and softly groaned and moaned into the man’s chest, as he rejoiced in his naked ass cheeks being so lustfully fondled. One of Collin’s huge fingers soon found a moist, hot opening and began to massage its satiny, sensitive lips. Brent almost jumped two feet from Collin’s chest, letting out a loud “Aaaaaaah, Jeez!” But the man held the kid in place as he massaged and rubbed; rubbed and massaged that heavenly, clenched entrance.
After several minutes of joyously agitating the sphincter muscle, Collin brought the finger that had been assigned the heavenly chore, to his nose. He deeply inhaled the aroma there and uttered a rapturous sigh of satisfaction -- then shoved the finger deeply inside his mouth and sucked furiously. While doing this, he felt Brent lasciviously humping his hard, young body against his. The teenager’s humping motions grew more and more aggressive. Faint, lusty, guttural groans of immense pleasure escaped Brent’s lips as he wildly moved his hands all over Collin’s muscular shoulders and chest. He didn’t know who he was, or where he was, but was merely adrift on some blissfully ecstatic course whose only destination was as an utterly mind-blowing, ball-busting orgasm. Happily caught-up in Brent’s orgasmic destination, Collins hands began to stroke Brent’s hair and back, and commenced to hungrily kiss the kid’s forehead and flushed cheeks, as his gorgeous little cowpoke there on top of him was going for his first man-to-man climax.
Brent felt Collin’s hot, gentle strokes on his back and his calculated caressing of his ass cheeks as he lustfully pressed, slid, mashed, humped his bone-hard, five-inch cock against that the rigid, nine-inch power of Colin’s cock. His young brain was so unbelievably elated from what his cock was doing, that within his groans, there was a faint hint of simpering and crying. The experience was so new, so exciting, so overwhelming, that he was shedding tears of joy. His young cock was throbbing, pulsating, and stretching wildly; more wildly than ever before experienced. He was crazy with sex. He humped and slammed and banged the studly, muscular body beneath him as he moaned and grunted, his eyes wild with lust. Still, there was, too, a look of uncertainty in those eyes. Collin noticed, for some reason, a subtle look of fear…or was it guilt, in those beautiful blue eyes.
“Go ahead, babe! Don’t be afraid! Just do whatever you want” whispered Collin’s sultry baritone voice.
With that bit of encouragement, Brent felt his balls tighten, as his entire consciousness seemed to primitively expand, while his jism jettisoned up out of his balls, spewing out copiously all over Collin’s chest, and his own. He screamed out in panicked delight…then he shouted several times as if crazily celebrating some great watershed moment. Then his young handsome face suddenly turned fearful and he cried, “oh, no, no!” He tried to escape from Collin’s chest. But Collin held him tightly while he struggled with some demons that seemed to possess him with an amazing amount of fear and damnation. Throughout the entire experience, Collin continued to hold him tightly and lovingly in his massive arms, occasionally kissing him atop his head, and whispering, “It’s alright”.
In about 60 seconds it was all over. Brent lay quietly there atop Collin’s chest for a minute or two, with his young body doing a lot of masculine, post-orgasmic jerking. Then, again, for some reason, the kid pulled away from Collin, embarrassed. Easing off of the man’s chest, he started to get out of bed. Annoyed, Collin stopped him.
“Hey! HEY! Let’s not play the guilt game, ok, kid?! You didn’t do anything wrong! You’re not going to burn in hell and all that other dumbass bullshit! Because YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG! So KNOCK THIS SHIT OFF!! OKAY!?”
Collin Broderick’s voice and posturing was firm, authoritative, reprimanding, re-affirming. Brent was somewhat paralyzed by the disciplinary outburst. His beautiful blue eyes filled awe, then anger, and then resignation, as tears welled abundantly, and copiously spewed down across his cheeks. And during that silent crying, he looked at Collin as though silently begging for some kind of approval, which Collin instantly granted. Reaching out, Collin grabbed the kid and pulled him to him, and let him bawl out what seemed like a lifetime of unresolved anger, denial, disappointment and loneliness.
The sobbing finally ended, and speaking into Collin’s massive chest, Brent, barely above a whisper, said: “Everything happened so fast. I’m not supposed to feel this way about another man. I was just curious; I didn’t think anything was going to happen. But you made it all real. You made me feel too happy, and I’m scared to death. This isn’t right!”
“Hey! Hey! Most of the things that people really love doin’, ain’t right, dude. Allegedly, things that make us feel good are either wrong morally or legally. That’s the way they’ve got things all set up in this twisted world!” blurted out Collin, forcing Brent’s face up to look at him, “But, damn it, kid, didn’t you feel good! Didn’t that feel damn good?!”
Brent’s large blue watery eyes searched long and deeply into Collin’s stern, empowering gaze. He wanted to scream “no” – but knew that to be a lie. It did make him feel good…..damn good! And as the bronco rider’s warm, showering gaze continued to wash all over the confused teenager, he felt all the insecurities, fear, and guilt swiftly flooding out from his clogged consciousness. He was gradually allowing himself to admit that there was something real, special, whole and honest about what he had just experienced with Collin; and what he was still experiencing. Slowing, there in Collin’s protective arms, he unburdened himself of the last vestiges of his Republican father’s fanatic hold on him. This is what he wanted; what he has wanted ever since he was seven years of age when he saw Joey Martin take off all his clothes and dive into Wyler’s Lake that summer. At last he had broken thru that wall he had struggled so carefully to stay behind all his life, to please his father and family. At last, thank God, he was free. Free at last!
Leaning his slightly trembling body forward, he bravely kissed Collin on those full, soft, sensuous lips, and whispered “Thank you.”
Releasing a loud, breathy sigh of relief, Collin growled a lusty, “Jeez, it’s about time! What a brat!” Grabbing Brent in his arms, he threw him back down on the bed.”
Again, the handsome, trim teenager got combative, retorting, “I’m not a brat! Don’t call me that!” and commenced to flail his body up against Collin’s.
“Alright! Alright!” purred Collin, nuzzling his nose and lips all over the feisty boy’s cheeks and neck, “From now on I’ll call you my handsome, little Cowboy…” Saying this, he continued to smooch and nuzzle Brent’s face, and when he got to the kid’s perfect lips, said, “….brat!” At which, Brent went off on a tangent again; but Collin just simply covered those cute, pouty, combative lips with his and kissed them savagely, hungrily, lovingly. When Brent had begun to respond to the “brat” comment, he had thrown his legs wide beneath Collin. And now as Collin ravaged his young mouth with those deep, wet kisses, his huge, leaky, erect, nine-cock mashed against the hot, satiny sensation of Brent’s damp boy-pussy. Both their bodies instinctively jerked with searing exhilaration at such intimate contact, groaning hungrily.
But Collin felt that the young stud wasn’t quite ready for penetration yet. So, slowly bringing the kissing to an end, he eased up from that angelic face.
“Friends, again?….killer?” teasingly questioned Collin.
“Yeeaah”, replied the teenager, raising his arms, to position them beneath his head, “And maybe, I am….a brat! But, I’ll get back to you, on that”
A rich baritone laugh danced up out Collin’s throat as he brought down his left hand to rub across Brent’s taut, trim, muscular belly, “And ya know what, you’re MY little brat! …and mine, alone! And don’t you forget it.”
The sound of that inspired Brent’s heart to balloon with such emotion that he swiftly sprang from his passive position, up into Collin’s arms. His young cock fully erect, and with the subtle gesturing of his body loudly announced that he was, unconsciously, begging for Collin to fuck him.
“Nope, not here!” replied Collin, coming up for air, “I think it would freak you out to “do it” here in your father’s house. Come on, were going up to the cabin!”
Brent was ecstatic! Collin Broderick had never invited anyone up to his cabin on Broderick’s Mountain. He suddenly realized that he really was special to Collin. They pulled on a few clothes, saddled up horses, and galloped the 12 mile distance to the cabin. When they arrived, Collin pulled Brent off his horse, threw him over his shoulder, tethered the horses, and hauled him up to the master bedroom. Tossing him on the huge bed, ripping off his clothes, then, laying beside him, he growled, “Now just where were we?”
Brent was astounded at what was happening. It was all too unreal. The unreality was due to the fact of its beauty and perfection. He felt that this kind of stuff only happens in Gay-friendly, Indie films, not to realists like himself. Yet, he couldn’t deny that the massively masculine and massively handsome Collin Broderick was laying right there beside him, with eyes aflame with unfathomable lust. And that was pretty damn real!
Collin pulled the teenager even closer, and hugged him with unimaginable passion. Hungrily kissing him as though it were the first time that night. For several minutes he lustily devoured the teenager with such unyielding passion, that his young heart almost fainted away. Finally, the love-hungry bronco rider slowed down long enough to whisper, “Man, I loved that innocent way you humped me tonight; a guy don’t see that kind of unspoiled beauty very often in this life. And to be honest with you, I nearly came with you when you came. But I held off. I wanted that to be your moment; and your moment alone.”
For some reason, Brent felt his eyes filling with tears again. But not wanting to be a cry baby again, he scoffed at the bronco rider. “Oh, come on, now,” he blurted out, “That sounds like a bunch of crap. You can’t be serious!”
Easing back a bit from the boy, he regarded that beautiful, mocking face, “Hey, wiseass,” he growled, “I’m damn serious!” Then, with his huge voice sounding almost vulnerable, he continued, “Serious, for the first time in my life”. Untangling himself from the cozy embrace, he got on his knees on the bed, saying, “But it looks like you’re gonna need some convincing, huh?! So undress me, punk, and let me show ya what “serious” is all about!”
Brent felt his happy, young heart giggling like a school boy playing hooky as he sprang to the chore of unbuttoning, unbuckling, and undressing the magnificent body of Collin Broderick. Soon that perfect manly physique, with the huge impressive phallus, was totally bare.
They were both naked now, and both glowed with a radiance indicative of how exceptionally good they felt. Easing Brent back down on the bed, Collin’s huge left hand began to finger the teenager’s smooth, peaches-and-cream chest, playing with his lush, pink nipples. And this was deliciously deadly for Brent, because his nipples were extremely sensitive, and his eyes began to sparkle and glaze as he softly moaned and squirmed beneath Collin’s talented fingers. Realizing he’d discovered an erogenous zone, Collin instantly zeroed in on making the kid crazy with lust for a few minutes. The man’s lips came into play as he showered the boy’s gorgeous chest with an avalanche of hot, wet kisses and smooches. Then his fat, wet tongue went to work outlining the contours of those hard, tight, little pec, and on down to the concave belly button. Then, boyishly grinning up at the teenager, the bronco rider began to sniff, nuzzle, kiss and lick around Brent’s quaking and jumping dick. Ever so subtly, Brent began humping his meat up into that handsome radiant face. It was apparent that Collin had never crossed this line before, and he too was elatedly enjoying the amazing thrill of man-on-man sex. He couldn’t believe how good Brent smelled, tasted and felt. It came close to feeling as though he were making love to himself. He had had many, many females give him head, and he’d often wondered what his cock tasted like. So, now he could experiment with how he tasted, by tasting Brent’s spooge. Soon the bronco rider found his hungry, wet mouth moving furiously up and down on the teenager’s cock -- as the teenager moaned and mumbled his ecstatic appreciation.
And all too soon the mumbling and moaning grew into a loud shout of, “Oh, god, oh, god, I’m coming Collin, I’m coming!” He tried withdrawing his ready-to-explode cock from Collin’s mouth. But that would have defeated Collin’s purpose, as he tightly gripped the boy around the hips. He then held Brent firmly as the teenager wildly humped and lustily screamed, emptying his copious projectiles of cum directly into Collin’s waiting throat. And Collin greedily swallowed down every welcoming load of that delicious semen. The taste was unique and rewarding; far more appetizing than he had ever imagined. Tears gathered at the corners of handsome man’s green eyes as he rapturously drank down the ambrosial libation.
When Brent finally ceased his humping and groaning into his throat, Collin eased up from the still erect and trembling penis, and spread the boy’s trim, muscular legs wide. Eagerly, he moved his face closer to the small, slightly-haired, pin-prick of an asshole. The bronco rider gasped at the sight of it, his entire body jerking in unbelievable lust. He had never before seen a female’s pussy more perfectly virginal than this sweet hole. And goddam, just how tight could that little rosebud of a hole be. His huge cock continued to leap and stretch between his muscular legs. He had to taste it. He just had to taste that sweet little opening. And soon his eager tongue was vigorously lapping at the winking orifice -- and the intoxicating scent of it served only to drive the man further over-the-line. His huge balls were tightening and his consciousness swirled with that exhilarating sensation that one experiences just before your juice starts to shoot. “Brent! Brent! Come on, help me!” screamed the man, dropping the boys legs back down on the bed, and quickly straddling him, and bringing his raging cock up to the teenagers pouty lips. Brent had barely opened his mouth around the bulbous head of that cock when his tongue, teeth and throat were instantly flooded with Collin’s cum. Brent swiftly reached up and clutched the fat, hairy balls, wilding massaging them as Collin pumped out his love deep inside the most beautiful male teenager on God’s planet.
Brent Sanderson loved the feeling of the thick smoky cum splattering into his mouth. Along with it came the thick nine-inch cock, forcing its way deeper and deeper into his young virginal throat. Breathing through his nose and relaxing his throat muscles, the kid was able to accommodate every willing inch that Collin was willing to feed him. He blissful ears listened to the ecstatic cries of his bronco rider as he emptied his manhood inside his young belly. Lustfully he gripped and massaged the thick hairy thighs and the hard, shapely buttocks as he celebrated the receipt of his first robust meal of thick, fertile semen.
A few minutes later, Collin was still on all fours hovering over Brent, his erect cock still deep inside Brent’s mouth. And of course, Brent still chose to happily suck and chew on his new, favorite meat dish. But Collin’s mind remained filled with the memory of another hole that the teenager had been blessed with; and he wanted to be deep inside that one, too. Slowly withdrawing his cock from Brent’s happy lips, Collins eased down and kissed the boy on the lips. Immediately, his trail of kisses soon ended again at the boy’s asshole. Collin had wildly thrown the kids legs in the air, and like a madman, zeroed-in on that moist, scented, quintessential pin-prick of an asshole. He began to moan in rapturous hunger as he uncontrollably licked, sucked and noisily devoured the teenager’s virginal boy-pussy. Then, lifting the boy’s lower body up off the bed, the bronco rider spread the boy’s asscheeks wider, and began to force his invading tongue deep down inside his tasty ass-meal. “Yeah! Oh, yeah, oh yeah, Collin..oh yeah!” screamed a delirious Brent, wiggling his little butt up against Collin’s hot and slobbering mouth. For almost twenty minutes Collin Broderick lost his mind in the thrilling, never-before-experienced beauty of Brent Sanderson’s asshole. And after his tongue and heart had been slated by the magnificent beauty of that heavenly hole, he felt it was time for his cock to celebrate its beauty too – way inside it. Collin Broderick was inebriated with ecstasy, and he needed to consummate the moment by burying his phallus deep inside the lower body of the person inspiring his lust. Too far gone to even begin to consider it might hurt the boy, he simply cooed “Man, I love you”, eased the kid’s body back down on the bed, and rapidly mashed his bulbous cockhead against the kid's spit-soaked anus, and slammed in.
“OOoooooooooooooooooooooooooh, gooooood!” screamed Brent, as he felt the huge truncheon enter him and slide in, all the way up to Collin’s, thick, hairy pubs. It hurt the kid like hell for a minute or two. But too readily that great pain transfigured into phenomenal pleasure. And Brent was soon rising to meet every one of the bronco rider’s savage and unrelentingly masculine thrusts.
They were like two wild beasts there on the bed, violently mating to save the future of their species. They screamed and grunted while pawing, grabbing and clutching at each other in a manner instinctual. There was nothing learned or intentional about their motions and posturing; they were both lost in the mindless, subliminal bliss of primordial mating.
When Collin finally realized he was about to shoot, his glazed and crazed eyes looked down into the languid, lust-filled gaze of Brent. With rapid succession, he stuttered out, “I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna! Can I cum, baby? Can I cum, baby? Can I cum inside you? Deep inside you? OH, SHIT…Can I cummmmm.. aaaaaggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh …fuckin’ shit! Take it bitch! Take it bitch! Gooodddaaammmit, take my cum! take it aaaaaaallllllll!”
Throughout the orgasmic monologue, Collin savagely slammed his hard body against Brent’s, his cock exploding blast after blast of spooge deep inside the youthful guts of the teenager. Eighteen-year-old Brent Sanderson lustily cheered his fuck-master on, shouting how badly he wanted and needed his man’s big dick deep inside him.
And that was how they celebrated each other during their first night spent together up on Broderick’s Mountain.
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