AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Taking our time, we both descended on Joel after our food was eaten, and oiled our hands to give Joel a massage that was relaxing, but also arousing. He kept turning over to show us how hard his dick was getting until one time, Damon smacked it.
“Ouch! Ya don’t hit a man’s dick!”
“I do,” Damon informed him. “I enjoy doing CBT.”
“What’s that?”
I told him, “Cock and ball torture. We both like to do it.”
“Torturing, down there?”
“Yeah,” Damon growled and slapped his ass. “Now, lie still so we can relax you.”
“After that? Ain’t no relaxin’!”
He did though. I took his legs and Damon his shoulders. We started in on him, and once he stopped flipping over, he sunk into the bed and enjoyed our attention.
The only thing he managed to say, groggily, was, “Don’t understand this, y’all. Ain’t I ‘posed to be doin’ this kind o’ thin’ for you?”
Damon’s voice was deep, and his hands dug into Joel’s muscles. “We are your Doms. We’re supposed to care for you. Shut the fuck up now.”
He got a low, short snort of a laugh for that and I then concentrated on Joel’s long, thin legs.
His muscles were hard as rocks, and that was besides the tension. His lower body was firm, strong, and he had gotten that way from years of being a cowboy. For all Damon and I used weights and gyms, all Joel had to do was his everyday work, and he was in twice the shape we were, and we weren’t exactly out of shape.
His calves were bulging for how thin he was, and they were nothing compared to his thighs. My boy, our boy, was strong as one of the bulls he rode and then my hands neared his ass, and I felt my own heat rising. Rising right along with my dick.
“Sexual massage,” I mumbled, and Damon chuckled at me.
“You too?”
“Wha’?” Joel said, barely able to lift his head.
“Nothing, baby boy,” Damon whispered. “You just turn us on, touching you like this.”
“Oh. Okay.”
He was asleep in seconds.
The next competition was set, and Joel picked a token out of a hat for his bull. We were able to watch that, and he was slapped on the back, still taking everyone’s words of congratulations.
“This bull’s a good’un. He’s tough, so my score’ll be good, but he’s not as mean as Keefer.”
“Good,” I sighed, and he leaned in to tell us, “Last time, unless I’m top twenty. Then I gotta do one more.”
I wanted to beg him to throw the ride, to fail, but I could never do that to him. Damon and I wished him well, made him swear to be careful and then went to the stands to watch.
He was eleventh in line, so we watched a lot of riders before Joel came up, including a big guy that rode Keefer and didn’t make it three seconds on the bull before he was thrown. He slapped his leg, threw up an arm and was still cursing when he left the arena by the door close to us.
“Joel rode him like it was easy,” Damon commented.
“Our boy is fucking amazing.”
Joel had gotten the second highest score the previous night, so that was a tough score to keep. His combined scores would tell the tale if he would compete again, and as much as we hated it, we had to cheer him on. If it was his last rodeo, we wanted him to go out on top.
When it was his turn, we spotted him easily, as he wore a white western shirt and his dark straw hat, that he took off to get his helmet in place. He climbed up the fencing on the chute and over the top to sit on the bull he’d be riding.
Damon’s hand was on my thigh again, gripping it like he was trying to break it in two, and I let him be. Bruises be damned, he was as terrified as I was.
