The Studhorse Man

Rebecca shot her hand down to grab his cock, hoping to keep him from going too deep. But Chance grabbed her by the wrists and pinned both of her hands against the pillow beneath her head.

"Relax," he whispered. "I ain't gonna hurt you."

He pushed forward and she winced as she felt her body betraying her again, opening for him, inviting him inside. He spread her wide as he entered her and an unexpected groan burst free from between her lips.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Uh huh." She tilted her head forward, trying to see between her legs, but shadows cloaked the place where their bodies met.

Archie had always told her how lucky she was, always bragged about the size of his equipment. She'd had no reason to think otherwise; he was the only lover she'd ever known. But now, with Chance trying to ease his erection inside her, she was learning the hard way all men were definitely not created equal.

He pushed forward again and she arched her back, twisting her head sideways as she clenched and unclenched her fingers, his strong hands still pinning her wrists against the bed.

"I'll just put it in halfway to start," he said, "give you a minute to get used to it."

"Uh huh," she moaned, in no position to object.

Only moments later, and with her still in no way used to the thick pole stretching her tiny hole wide, he started to slowly rock his hips back and forth, fucking her with long, slow strokes. Rebecca felt her temperature rising, and not in a good way. Her long hair was matted against her face and her body was soaked with sweat. He was right -- flannel was way too hot.

"Wait a second," she gasped. "I have to get this damn thing off."

He straightened up and eased his swollen member out from between her legs. Rebecca yanked her nightie over her head and tossed it on the floor. Then she kicked the covers off both of them so the only thing left on the bed was their naked bodies above the sheets.

She reached between his legs and licked her lips as she guided his stiff cock back inside her. There was no need to worry about being too dry anymore; her pussy was soaked.

Rebecca gently bit her lower lip, embarrassed at the way her body kept betraying her and surprised to find her hands on Chance's hips, guiding him as he filled her with long, full strokes while the springs whispered beneath their weight.

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, her hands still on his hips, her short, sharp breaths in time with his thrusts. She tried to convince herself it was Archie on top of her, not some twentysomething roustabout who had rode into her life only hours earlier, but two major differences made that deception nearly impossible.

The first was the feel. Archie had a pair of love handles, or beer handles as he jokingly called them. Chance's midsection was a taut package of muscle moving in perfect symmetry. She slid her hands from his hips down to his buttocks, feeling them tense as he thrust into her. It reminded her of the first time she'd rode Athair bareback, feeling the sinewy muscle beneath his glossy hide pressed against her thighs. And the second reason why she couldn't convince herself it was Archie on top of her? Well, that should be obvious.

Chance's breath came hard as he drove his big cock inside her, his long, slow strokes now replaced by a steady, pounding rhythm. His hips smacked against Rebecca's thighs, echoed by the sharp gasps that escaped her with every thrust.

Every inch of him was inside her now. She tightened her grip on his sides, holding his hips like a pair of reins as she encouraged him to go faster, desperate for him to finish, desperate for him to come.

Rebecca's head slumped against the pillow, amazed at the pace he was maintaining. Archie would have already been finished and lighting a smoke. Her sharp gasps were now a stream of steady moans as Chance banged his cock in and out of her, their bodies locked together as he did what he was paid to do.

Neither of them spoke a word, but their bodies said volumes as he shifted his weight to make sure she was comfortable and her hand slid higher, stroking his back reassuringly as he filled her over and over. Rebecca hadn't realized it would feel so good -- she hadn't wanted it to feel so good -- and she tried to feel guilty but she was finding it harder and harder to focus.

Her breathing had become irregular. Her whole body was tingling. She struggled to keep her composure but felt more and more light-headed as the room seemed to disappear around her. It was as if every ounce of her being had been narrowed to one point, and Chance's cock was hammering against it.

Rebecca's entire body seemed to suddenly spasm. Any self-control she thought she had left vanished as she dug her nails into his back and pulled him close, crushing her body against his, crying out in sharp gasps as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her.

But if Chance noticed, it didn't show. He fucked her even harder, the springs groaning beneath their weight as he drove her into the mattress, lifting his hips high as he hammered his cock in and out of her. Rebecca tried to hang on as her body melted beneath him.

He drove his thick shaft in to the hilt, every inch of him inside her, and kept it there. Rebecca's arms and legs instinctively wrapped around him, holding him close as his entire body tensed against hers. He shuddered as he let out a long, low groan and her eyes went wide as she felt his pulsing cock unleash a torrent inside her. When he finally stopped shooting, he collapsed against her.

Rebecca's chest heaved as she tried to breathe. The room seemed to be swimming around her. Chance straightened up and pushed the small window above the bed open. Cool night air rushed in and she drank as deeply of it as she could.

"I would've opened it earlier," he whispered, "but I was worried someone might hear us."

Her body was coated in a thin sheen of perspiration. He brushed his fingers through her sweat-soaked hair and gently pulled away a few loose strands stuck to her temple.

"Thank you," she whispered, though the intimacy of his gesture caught her off-guard.

"It's no trouble," he whispered back, "and I apologize if it seemed like I was takin my time. But I knew as soon as you came I wasn't gonna last much longer."

I knew as soon as you came...

His words echoed in her head, and the wave of guilt Rebecca had been looking for earlier crashed into her. She pushed him away. "I need to get up. Now!"

Chance rolled off of her and Rebecca clamped her hand between her legs as she scrambled naked out of bed. She raced to the bathroom and closed the door, hiding inside as she desperately tried to clean up the mess oozing out of her.

As soon as she was done she hurried to put her clothes back on and grabbed her bag. She left Chance's room without a word, just a remorseful glance back at him as he watched her go.

She went down the stairs and raced across the way to the small door beside the stables. She banged on it with her fist.

"Archie, I know you're in there. Please. Let me in. I just want to lie beside you."

* * *

The day's first cigarette was already half smoked when Archie finally worked his bloodshot eyes fully open. He squinted toward the window where the pale light of morning filtered through the curtain. It was gonna be a hot one.

Not even worrying about the long trail of ash hanging off the hot cherry of the cowboy killer trapped between his fingers, he sorted through the cluster of empties on his nightstand until he found the one he'd been working on when he passed out.

He tilted the half-empty bottle to his mouth and grimaced as he swallowed a mouthful. The warm beer tasted like bull piss. He took a second swallow and dropped his butt down the neck with a wet sizzle.

He'd heard Rebecca banging on his door, begging him to let her in. But he'd made up his mind months ago when this whole baby thing blew up that he wasn't letting her back in until the whole damned matter was put to bed, and Archie Wright was a man who stuck to his guns.

He picked up his crusty Levi's from where he'd left them on the floor and pulled them on, making sure to leave them unbuttoned as he donned his denim work shirt. He tucked it in, sucked in his gut and cursed as he tried to button his jeans up.

He'd told that injun bitch, Ada, not to put them in the dryer. She'd shrunk them. When he finally worked the button closed he let his breath out with a huge sigh of relief. He sat back on the bed, rested for a moment, and then reached for his dust-covered boots.

They were faded brown, full-grain leather, six-row stitched genuine shitkickers. He strained as he bent forward and pulled them on with a mighty effort, stamping the heels against the floor to get them full on. When he was done he had another rest and fought back the temptation to light up cigarette number two.

Archie headed toward the dresser and grabbed his belt from the chair he'd hung it on. He threaded it through the loops of his Levi's and sucked his gut in again as he hooked his belt buckle to the last, homemade, eyelet.

He grinned proudly at the oversized buckle, black steel with embossed gold letters. It had been first prize at a rodeo and proclaimed him as the 1998 WPRC Calf Roping Champion. He could have killed the pawn shop owner who'd sold it to him when a buckle bunny he was hitting on in Big Timber laughingly explained to him that the W didn't stand for Western, it stood for Women's; as in Women's Professional Rodeo Circuit.

Archie didn't care. That big-mouthed bitch wasn't laughing when she went to leave and found him waiting for her in the parking lot. He showed her just how much man he was while she was on all fours in the front seat of his pickup truck with her jeans around her knees. It had been a close one though. He'd been sweating bullets when Rebecca wanted to know whose pink lighter she'd found between the seats.

As he reached for his hat he ran his fingers through his hair. His headful of big curls had been rust-colored when he was young but a lifetime under the sun had washed them out, leaving them the color of sagebrush. He pushed his hat down, hiding his tumbleweed hair beneath, and ran his fingers across the wide black-felt brim.

He smiled at the cowboy in the mirror. Now, that was a real man.

He heard voices outside and went to the window. He peeked out the curtain and saw Alexa heading toward the stables. Rebecca's little sister, with an ass sweeter than cherry pie.

She was twenty-two now but her skintight jeans showed off the same long, lean coltish legs that had drawn his eye when she was just a teenager. Back then every ranch hand had dreamed of the day when they might have those legs wrapped around them like a gold belt buckle, especially Archie.

But he'd been smart enough to know her mom, his employer, wouldn't take kindly to him sweet-talking her fourteen-year-old daughter, so he'd set his sights on her older sister instead.

It had taken him a few months to get a rope on her but he finally did, leaving her on her back in the stables with a headful of straw and his sticky brand between her thighs. Soon they were going steady which was a good thing for Archie because, in his case, landing Rebecca had been a matter of survival.

The lead hand at the time hated his guts and wanted to get rid of him. He knew he'd need a leg up to keep his job, and what better way than dating the boss's daughter.

Archie had never liked that lead hand. When his motorcycle ended up beneath the axles of an eighteen wheeler, with him on it, he'd been more than happy to step into the dead man's boots.

Everything went according to plan until Rebecca got it in her head she wanted a baby. He'd been reluctant at first, he didn't need any rug rats under foot, but the more he thought about it the more he realized a kid might really tie him to the ranch, might make it his own one day.

But then she didn't get pregnant and that bitch mother of hers, looking at him like it was his fault, had the nerve to ask him to go get tested. Hell, he didn't need to get tested. He knew his boys were kicking. One of the waitresses he was banging in Big Timber, he didn't have any problem getting her pregnant.

He'd heard all the jokes. He knew the local boys said there were three places in Big Timber truckers liked to park for the night, between her legs being the favorite. He'd heard the whispers. He knew he wasn't the first cowboy to give her a ride. But when he'd felt that little wrangler kicking inside her belly and she'd insisted it was his he'd known she was telling the truth.

The fault was Rebecca's, had to be. He'd tried to explain as gently as he could to her that nature just didn't intend some women to have a child, but her mother wouldn't let it go. She kept sticking her nose in and he had to keep shoving it out. Then she suggested the studhorse man. Of course, he'd said no. Until she made her offer.

He knew as soon as she did he didn't have a choice. That waitress in Big Timber wanted money to keep her mouth shut. It would have been easier if she'd kept her legs shut instead.

He peeked out the curtain again. Her studhorse man was standing at the bottom of the stairs near that shit for brains mongrel. Two mangy dogs together. At least his being here would get a couple of the bitches bothering him off his back, and when he was gone he'd take care of the third.

Let them have theirs, Archie thought, I'll have mine.

* * *

Chance leaned against the railing, toast and coffee in his hands and the morning sun on his face.

He spotted the black and white dog crouching in the shadows near the corner of the old house and he dropped his hand, holding out the half-eaten toast. The dog crept toward him and as he slunk into the sun Chance could see he had a mismatched pair of eyes, one slightly higher than the other and circled by a Frankenstein-like circle of stitches that wound around his scalp.

He cowered as he neared Chance.

"Come on, I ain't gonna hurt you."

The dog stretched his neck out warily and tried to tug the piece of toast away but Chance held on to it, letting him work it free as he licked his fingers clean. He scratched him behind the ears as the dog sniffed at his sleeve. But there was a footstep to his right and the dog bolted.

"Goddamn mutt," Archie said, as he ambled toward Chance. "Told him not to yap at them horses but he just kept it up until one of them went and kicked him in the head. Serves him right. I wanted to put him down but Rebecca wouldn't have it, insisted on callin the vet to stitch the damn thing up. Waste of money if you ask me, kinda like havin you come down here. You know there ain't a hope in hell of this workin."

"How's that?"

"Don't get me wrong, I don't blame you. A man has to go where the money is. But Rebecca, she's just plumb barren. Whatever you think you're packin in your popgun ain't gonna work."

Chance didn't respond. He simply took a sip of coffee and glanced toward the stables.

Archie pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Studhorse man, huh? Gotta say, that sounds like a helluva way to make a livin.

"I heard about it before. I heard them Hutterites up in Alberta can't find good men so they hire guys like you. Get their daughters in a bed once they're old enough and have you come along and impregnate them. Hell, I heard some of them communities get so desperate sometimes they'll bring in a whole football team and line their women up for them young studs.

"That true? That the kind of work you normally do, impregnatin them grain-fed virgins? I mean, hell, I wouldn't blame you if it is. A few months back some of them girls came through Big Timber on that rum-springer thing they do. The one I got friendly with wasn't much to look at, but she could sure suck cock.

"That's what you do, right? Bang them grain-fed virgins? I hear they put up a sheet so you can't see her, but her parents sit there and watch the whole thing."

Chance glanced at the heavy belt buckle around Archie's waist and then looked him straight in the eye. "What are you gettin at? You want to know if you can watch?"

Archie blinked in surprise. "What the hell did you just say?"

"It just seems like you're mighty curious about how I work. If you want, I can pull up a chair tonight so you can watch. I hear some men like that, watchin another man with their woman. Just a heads up though, there ain't gonna be no sheet between us."

Archie's mouth tightened as he stepped back and curled his fist into a ball. He threw his half-finished cigarette into the dust in disgust and stormed toward Alma's office.

Chance watched him go as the dog slunk back to his side, resting on his haunches beside him and letting him scratch behind his ear. Chance hadn't meant to bait Archie. He'd tried to hold his tongue. But Archie just wouldn't shut up.

Chance had heard too many rodeo riders bragging about the buckle bunnies they were nailing while their wives were at home with a baby in one hand and a stack of unpaid bills in the other. Hearing Archie do the same thing left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He heard movement in the barn and the dog slunk away again. Moments later a willowy, strawberry blonde sauntered out of the stables leading a powerful black stallion. She wore skin-tight jeans, riding boots and a red-and-white plaid long-sleeved shirt. The teenaged boy following her was armored in a flak jacket and riding helmet. He had a pockmarked face and his eyes nervously darted back and forth between the girl's ass and the horse's hooves as if he wasn't sure which intimidated him more.

She stopped the stallion and stroked his side as she peered back over her shoulder and eyed Chance appraisingly. "You must be the studhorse man."

"I am."

"Hey, I'm Rebecca's sister, Alexa. This is Ajax. He's mine."

She brushed her sun-kissed curls against the stallion's nose and he whickered softly as his nostrils flared and his penis slowly extended. Alexa leaned back to check out his erection and grinned as she nodded to the pockmarked teen, who immediately ducked underneath and started cleaning the horse's foot-long penis with warm water.

Alexa held the stallion as he shifted back and forth and smiled over her shoulder at Chance. "He loves when I let him smell my hair because he knows it means it's time."

As if on cue, another assistant led a dun mare into the far paddock behind a wall. In front of the wall was a phantom mount, a wood and leather contraption that looked like an old gym vault.

The pockmarked teen scrambled out of the way as Alexa led the stallion toward the paddock where the teaser mare was waiting. Alexa led him back and forth, letting him catch the scent, but her eyes never left Chance.

When the stallion was ready, she led him to the phantom mount and he immediately clambered on top of it. Alexa held him tight, whispering to him as his hips bucked. The pockmarked teen hurried into position beside the inanimate mare, grabbing the stallion's flailing penis and guiding it into the artificial vagina gripped in his other hand. Ajax snorted and his eyes rolled as he thrust forward, filling the collection bottle seconds later with a voluminous amount of semen.

"Good boy," Alexa said, stroking his side as she led him away from the mount while her assistant disappeared through a side door with the prize semen, desperately trying not to spill any.

As she took Ajax back to his stall, she flashed Chance an inviting smile. "Maybe you'd like to smell my hair some time?"

* * *

The sun was half-gone and the moon was out when Rebecca knocked on his door. Chance opened it barefoot and shirtless, dressed only in a worn pair of jeans.

"You're early," he said. "No travelin bag tonight?"