Booger Red & Cowboy
Waddie Greywolf

Chapter 1


Name's Gunn, for what the fuck it's worth. Nobody knows me by that name. Ask anyone in our crowd of three hundred hard core bikers; they'll look at you with a blank look on their face, muse for a moment, and maybe scratch their chin. "Nope. Don't know nobody 'round here by that name," they'll say.

However, if you ask them for 'Cowboy,' they'll ask you what you want him for? If they're convinced you ain't the law, or worse, they just might tell you: "Booger Red's boy? Yeah, we know 'em. Look for the biggest, ugliest, meanest looking sum’bitch you can find with a bald head, flaming red beard and 'stache and you'll find the cowboy. Old Booger keeps his slave on a short leash, if'n you knows what I mean?" they'll tell you with a leering smile through crooked green teeth. They're telling the truth. The big son of a bitch does keep me on a short leash. I'm Red's slave, but not by choice mind you.

The first time he saw me, he decided he was going to make me his little fuck toy, slave boy, and that was that. I didn't stand a chance. Nobody lifted a hand to help me. All of them told me how lucky I was to have a good master like old Booger take a shine to me and take me on as an untrained slave. I not only should be grateful, but I should also be honored and proud Red found me worthy enough to decided he would be my master. Ask them if they want to trade places with me and take his huge, uncircumcised, purple-headed, green veined, cock up their butts night after night, have their throats reamed out when Big Red wants a little skull pussy, then have their belly's extended from his recycled beer?

They'd just smile, and tell me, "We wouldn't wanna' take your job away from ya,' Cowboy," they'd say, slap their knee, and laugh like Hell.

"Yeah, thanks a lot guys; so much for job security," I'd reply in disgust only to hear more laughter.

Big Red and his cronies may see me as his slave, and I'll have to admit, I fit the profile. Do I see him as my master? Do I call him that? No fucking way. He's tried for a year now to get me to call him master, clean his dirty boots with my tongue, but I refuse. I've had some awful things done to me because I won't do it, but I won't cave in. I won't give him what he wants. "Go ahead on, kill me you big son of a bitch. I won't never call you my master. I don't give a rat's ass what you do to me or make me do, 'at's one damn thing you won't have. I been to Hell and back in Nam. I didn't kiss Charlie's ass, and I damn sure ain't kissing yours, your Goddamn boots, or calling you master. You got that, you big, ugly, stupid, mean-ass motherfucker?" I'd spit out like a cat with a mean set of climbing gear.

Big Red would back hand me across my mouth and knock me halfway across the room. I'd get up, wipe the blood away, and smile at him just to make him madder. "Is that the best you can do, Puss? I'd yell at him. Hell, my little sister used to hit me harder than that. Maybe if you got chore'self a beaded bag, you could really hurt me," I would tell him with a sneer. I figured my life was probably over at that point, but everything considered, I had a good run. The big bastard would get a funny look on his face, break into gales of laughter, grab me, plant a kiss on me that would break my heart. I'd shed a tear, he'd kiss it away, and I'd melt in those big tattooed arms of his. He knew he had me. I was like warm putty in his hands. There was no more need for argument, I was his. Tough love? Booger Red invented the term.

"You don't fool me for a minute, you wise-ass little beggar. I know you love me. I can feel it when I hold you; when I strum your body like a two dollar banjo, and you resonate like a fine violin. Why won't you admit it, and gimme' what I want? You know I love you. It's good now, I ain't complaining none, but it could be so much better between us, Cowboy. You won't call me master now, but you will. Oh, yes, you will. You'll be proud to call old Booger Red your master and pay homage to his boots like any good slave should find joy in pleasing his master. When your heart finally admits you need me and no other, when you recognize me as your owner, you'll kneel at my boots, and you'll realize, Cowboy, you're caught in my net, not just needing me, but hooked on old Booger's sex like a drug addict two days late for his next fix.

"You'll find yourself becoming a glassy eyed, slack jawed, piss drinking, butt lick'n, boot cleaning, soul starved, come-junkie slave, craving in your gut what only old Booger can demand from you. You won't be able to get enough of me using you; you'll be lost, floundering, crawl on your belly like a snake in the noonday sun, to grovel at my feet, begging to serve me, crying, pleading with me, to pay homage to me for a taste of my boots as a prelude to take what I need from your Booger-starved soul. When you've convinced me your continued comfort and happiness depends on hearing me call you my 'slave' and for me to take what I need from you, when I want it; then, my greatest price, the only value I'll accept, you'll gladly spend to secure your next Booger fix, and you will speak that dreaded word to me in payment, Maass-ter," Red would whisper in his deep, bass voice that sounded like he had gravel in his craw.

"I'll own you body and soul, Boy. I already own your body. Ain't no question in anybody's mind, not even yours, it's mine. You know it's mine. You belong to me. It's a done deal. You ain't never gonna' get away from old Booger, so you may as well give up the rest; otherwise, I'll just have ta' keep taking it from you," he would growl deep in his animal throat, kissing, petting, forcing his rough love on me, and holding me tight so I couldn't bolt. "I promise to take good care of your soul, Cowboy, as any good master should, but you will give it up to me, Slave, and you will call me your master."

Then, he would take me hard. He would carefully and systematically proceed to rape me. I guess you really couldn't call it rape, because by the time he got to the point of forcing sex, I was so aroused, I couldn't hold back if I wanted to. I hated him for the raw sexual power he held over me which I had hopelessly come to love. I hated what he was doing to me, and at the same time, I wanted it so badly, I was becoming a psychological mess. After he forced any kind of sex on me he always saw to it I got my pleasure, my carrot, my fix; that is, if he wasn't punishing me for something. He was great sex, I can't gainsay that, but he made me do it. The sex was down and dirty, root it out, get it all over you animal lust, emotionally exhausting, fireworks and pheromones, big biker man sex. He would force his rough sex on me, make me shoot like a Roman candle on the fourth of July all over both of us, fucking me until he was sure he extracted the very last ounce of orgasm from my body. He would reach down with his big ugly manimal sex tool and rip my ejaculation from the bottom of my gut, drag it kicking and screaming up through my very soul to spill myself all over him and me, then laugh at me and taunt me for responding so completely to him. It made a wreck of me. Alas, the truth be told, I couldn't have enjoyed it more.  

I didn't give a shit, my psyche was washed so clean from guilt transference it had dishpan hands. I lied to myself and rationalized while I might have enjoyed a few minutes of it – the climax was pretty damn good, but what the Hell, the big son of a bitch took it from me. He raped me physically and emotionally. I couldn't help shoot my load. Shit. I wasn't to blame, he'd keep working me, slowly building me up to a point I couldn't return from if I wanted to. How could I fight him? He was a big, nasty, ugly, mean-ass mother fucking scoot-bum – a magnificent beast. If I didn't respond when he snapped his fingers, he would overpower me, or laugh at me while his biker buddies cornered me. He’d tie me up, use me like a side of beef, take all he wanted, and laugh his ass off when I got so aroused I couldn't help come buckets full. I didn't do it, he did. I was clean. I kept telling myself my soul was still pure. (I never realized how little homosexual guilt I felt when I convinced myself I remained blameless.)

Oh, fuck! Be honest with yourself, admit it! You ain't fooling nobody. You loved it! It felt wonderful; complete sexual release without an iota of guilt. Truth was, Booger Red was right. I was hooked on his brand of rough sex as surely as I wore his seal upon my heart. He was a master and knew the game a lot better than this naive tenderfoot. It all started the year before I went to Nam when I met Booger Red and we fell in love while I was pro-rodeoing with my uncle who was sheriff of our county. That's were my story with Booger begins. When I came home from Nam I was a basket case. I couldn't do anything. I was slowly dying inside from post traumatic stress syndrome and major clinical depression. I damn near grieved myself to death for my buddies I lost over there. I was also damn lucky I made it back alive. I didn't want to get a nine to five job like all them grunts I'd see going to work everyday, sweating car payments, rent for apartments, or mortgages. I probably couldn't have held a steady job for long anyway. I had my muster out pay from the army and some money left to me by my favorite spinster aunt. I also had some money from rodeo winnings from the year before I went to Nam. I knew my sorrow, depression, and post-traumatic stress was too hard on my family to hang around my small hometown, so I bought me a Harley and hit the road.

BEFORE VIETNAM

My aunt, Ethel Mae Potter, was a school teacher in our small town. I did yard work and fix-it chores around her small house. She was my teacher in the third grade, and I made straight A's. She gave me a thirst for learning, and I graduated second in our small high school class of twenty kids. Aunt Ethel or Miss Potter, as I had to call her in third grade, practically raised me. I was an only child. My mom died when I was a baby, but my dad never married again. He was the owner of the town garage with his partner Joe Potter. Joe was my mom and Aunt Ethel's brother. He was my Uncle Joe. Hell, practically everybody in our town was kin to one another.

Gunn was our last name. Dad's full name was William Arthur Gunn Jr. When he was a kid everyone called him Billy, but after he came back from Korea everyone called him Big Gunn. The garage was called Gunn & Joe's Garage. Catchy name, huh? Well, what da' ya' want? It was a small town with less than two thousand people. If you wanted your car or truck fixed, you took it to Gunn & Joe. They were fair, and didn't gouge their neighbors. They probably could've made more money than they did, but they were comfortable. Dad kept me clothed and fed good. I got a new pair of boots twice a year and my first pair of shoes for high school graduation. I was Billy Gunn the third, or as my old man jokingly called me, 'son-of-a-Gunn-da'-turd.' Sometimes he called me Billy three. He thought, 'the third' sounded uppity. Hell, I'm glad he was junior. I never wanted to be called junior.

My dad weren't much of a dad. He and Uncle Joe were all the time going off drinking and chasing women. They'd get drunker than lords, and bring home a couple of whores and fuck 'em. He'd pat me on the butt, and scoot me off to Aunt Ethel's to spend the night. It got to where he'd just send me to my aunt's on Friday afternoon, and I wasn't to come home until Sunday afternoon. I didn't care. I loved my Aunt Ethel. She'd do anything in the world for me. Aunt Ethel helped me with my school work all the way through high school. Besides, she made the best damn pies in the county.

Sometimes my dad and Uncle Joe didn't always see eye to eye, and one would go after the other with wrenches or socket handles; mean-ass, name calling, butt kicking, head bashing hurtful shit. Dad put Uncle Joe in the hospital for a week one time. They got drunk after work one night, got into a fight, dad picked Uncle Joe up, threw him across the garage, and broke his arm. My dad cried for three days because he hurt his partner. The next Sunday we were in the front row of church with dad holding the hymnal for the three of us. Uncle Joe's arm was in a cast.

My dad and Uncle Joe weren't bad men. They were just good old boys who never grew up, liked to chase tail together, and raise a little Hell now and then. Even though they could tell some wild stories, they were actually pillars of the community. They secretly helped those in need, and gave a break to seniors on their auto repair bills. Come Sunday mornings, my dad and Uncle Joe were always on the front row of the First Methodist Church of our small town, clean, boots polished, and singing the loudest. They tithed to the church their ten percent. The folks of the community were dad and Uncle Joe's bread and butter.

Then there was my Aunt Laura. She was my mom's other sister, and she was married to the sheriff of our county, Bud Cummings. He's been sheriff of our county for as long as I can remember, and he's always re-elected. No one ran against him; Hell, they wouldn't win if they did. He was a big, good looking, son of a bitch who didn't suffer fools easily. He was a no nonsense, firm, strict, disciplined, but loving man. Even though he was the symbol of authority for our community, everybody loved Uncle Bud. He was sheriff of our county until he died from a heart attack when he was only fifty-seven. Folks said the new sheriff couldn't hold a candle to Sheriff Cummings. "Hell, the man can't pour piss out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel. Now, Bud Cummings? There was a sheriff. Good man. A sheriff we could be proud of," they allowed.

My Uncle Bud and Aunt Laura never had no kids. Never knew why until years later my Uncle Bud told me she couldn't have children. She couldn't have kids, but she and Uncle Bud always considered me their son. Hell, I was always over to their place doing something for Aunt Laura or Uncle Bud. I loved them like they were my mom and dad. In small towns across America every other person has somebody related to them. Uncle Bud's mom was sister to my granddad, William Arthur Gunn Senior. She'd been a Gunn until she married '3G' Cummings (George Garrison Gentry Cummings) or 'Garr' Cummings for short. They had two children, my Uncle Bud and Aunt Harriet. So, my Uncle Bud was my dad's first cousin and my second cousin as well as my uncle by marriage. Some folks said I looked a little like Uncle Bud.

My dad owned the huge, two story house we lived in. It was on one of the main streets of our town. Uncle Joe owned the big house on the corner. There was a two hundred foot wide empty lot between our house and Uncle Joe's. My dad also owned the empty lot. Dad and Uncle Joe built a big, screened barn of a room for proms and church functions for the kids of the community on the vacant lot. They put in a sound system and a stage. It was real nice.

The kids from church would go by after church on Sunday nights and do folk dances. A lot of the school dances were held there because it was nicer than the gym and didn't smell like dirty jockstraps and tennis shoes. They were always chaperoned by parents. Dad and Uncle Joe were always there to make sure no hanky-panky went on. If a parent was missing their kid, the first place they'd call was the recreation tabernacle between dad and Uncle Joe's place. They had ping-pong tables, pool tables, tables to sit at to play games. The kids loved hanging out there.

"Mr. Gunn, is Jannie over to the tabernacle?" a mother would call.

"Why, yes, Mrs. Dobbs she's here playing ping-pong. You wanna' speak with her?"

"No, sir, that won't be necessary. Just tell her we're having dinner at six. Her aunt and uncle are coming for dinner, and don't be late."

"Sure will, Mrs. Dobbs, I'll sent her home 'bout five-thirty."

"Thanks, Mr. Gunn."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Dobbs."

"Hey, Jannie, you gotta' go home about five-thirty. That was your mom. Your aunt and uncle are coming for dinner. She don't want you to be late."

"Okay, thanks, Mr. Gunn."

The other kids in town thought more of my dad and Uncle Joe than I did. The boys secretly admired the Hell raising they did, and all the little girls got wet panties looking at Uncle Joe. He was a handsome Devil. Dad wasn't bad looking himself, and he was big. Little girls and a lot of the smaller boys always seemed to love my dad because he protected the little ones, and made sure they were safe. He never talked down to kids. He treated them as 'soon-to-be adults' and the kids respected him for it. If my dad set down a rule concerning the use of the tabernacle, those kids obeyed that rule like it was spoken by the very mouth of God himself.

My Uncle Bud was a Hell of a man, and always kept an eye on my dad and Uncle Joe. He loved them and made sure they didn't get into too much trouble. While they were related, Uncle Bud was firm, treated them with respect, and a little more tolerance than he probably would've someone else. Most times, if they were drunk and disorderly, instead of throwing their asses in jail, he'd take them home and make them go to bed. My dad and Uncle Joe weren't afraid of Uncle Bud just because he was sheriff, but they respected his position because they loved him. Uncle Bud was the only man in town who could get my dad and Uncle Joe to calm down and do what he wanted. Uncle Bud never had to throw either one in jail.

Uncle Joe used to chew my dad out about me spending too much time with Aunt Ethel, when I should be going to rodeos with him and dad. "Goddamn it, Joe! Don't tell me how to raise my fucking kid. Have one of your own, and then I'll tell you how to raise the son of a bitch. We'll see how you like it."

"Okay! Okay, Gunn, but you know in your heart, I'm right. We shouldn't be leaving that boy behind. Billy's a damn good kid, and you should show him more attention.  There'll come a day you'll wish't you hadn't left that beautiful boy behind. I ain't a' gonna' feel sorry for you none neither, when that boy turns, walks away from you and don't look back," Uncle Joe would chastise dad.

It already happened in a way. I was crazy about my Uncle Bud. He was the father figure my dad never tried to be. He was at every basketball game, baseball game, and every football game I played. He was called on to be a referee sometimes. Uncle Bud was always fair and never made a call to our advantage. That's not to short change my dad, because he came to a passel of them. Dad didn't pay too much attention to me while I was growing up; however, he never seemed to mind Uncle Bud and I getting close. I guess he loved me in his own way. Maybe he left me alone, so I'd grow up to be my own man. There I go, short changing my old man again. Truth was, he was always there, if and when I needed him. If his boy was hurt or in trouble, my dad was the first one there. He didn't allow nobody to say nothing bad about his boy, and he was a big enough, mean enough, kick-ass cowboy, nobody did.

Uncle Bud became my de facto father and role model. I worshiped the man. He was good and kind to me, took time to teach me and work with me at something special; something special between us, like team roping. I loved my Uncle Bud a lot, he was my hero, and I wanted to be just like him. Uncle Bud was one of the only men in my life who wasn't afraid to show me love. He'd put his big arm around me, pull me in tight to his shoulder, tell me he loved me, and how proud of me he was.  When your uncle is sheriff of the county, you have to be good boy. I guess I didn't have to be, but I always tried to do the right thing. Besides, my uncle had eyes and ears all over our county. I couldn't do anything he didn't know about. I learned to be a good kid to win his approval, love, and attention. I was loved as a kid I guess. I just didn't get the love I thought I needed and wanted from my dad. I guess you could say I wasn't raised by any one person. I was raised by several, special, loving people who made up my family. It taught me one thing though, family is important especially when it comes to raising a kid.

Not only was Uncle Bud sheriff of the county, he was also one of the last of the American cowboys; strong, stoic, silent, and folks listened when he said something because he didn't say a lot unless it was important. He was a cowboy from the time he was old enough to sit a horse. He took to rodeoing like a duck to water. Uncle Bud was good at it, too. In his younger days he rode the rodeo circuit for a number of years when he was little older than me. The rodeo event Uncle Bud excelled at was team roping. He kept up his roping by going to local rodeos with his partner, Harvey Franks, until Mr. Franks was killed in a bad accident. He wasn't drunk or nothing. He was driving his old pickup truck and was hit head on by a big-rig, eighteen-wheeler truck. The driver was pushing too hard and taking 'crosscuts' to fight fatigue and loss of sleep; guess he didn't take enough and passed out at the wheel. Uncle Bud was left without a roping partner.

I was coming along as a junior amateur, and he asked me if I'd consider him for a roping partner. Consider? What's to consider? The man was next to God in importance in my life, and I'd recently discovered thinking about doing nasty things with him made my pee-pee hard. I jumped at the chance to be the big man's partner. Uncle Bud and I started roping together when I was a freshman in high school, and we got pretty damn good as a team. We was all the time going off to some local rodeo, and we won a lot. Not bad money neither. Uncle Bud always shared fifty-fifty with me.

He really shouldn't have, because he had expenses, but he took care of those. When I was a senior in high school Uncle Bud and I were traveling all over our area on weekends going to rodeos. We were winning like crazy. Uncle Bud rode 'header.' He roped the horns and the head of the steer. I rode 'heeler.' I'd come along right after my uncle made his catch, dallied his rope to his saddle horn, turned the steer in a ninety degree direction, I'd rope the hinders, its two hind legs, dally my rope to my saddle horn, and back my horse to tighten.

Dad and Uncle Joe spent a lot of their time rodeoing in team competition roping, too. Dad was the bigger of the two. He was a third again bigger than my Uncle Joe.  He'd ride lead as header, and Uncle Joe would rope the hinders as heeler. They made a little prize money now and then, but mostly, they done it for sport and an excuse to get drunk. We were all the time competing against dad and Uncle Joe. Dad was always bragging about how he and Uncle Joe was gonna' wax our asses.

Uncle Bud would quietly tell him to put his money where his mouth was, and dad would bet him a couple hundred bucks. Uncle Bud and I always won. They weren't fast enough or accurate enough. Most times they were just too damn drunk. Uncle Bud would ride over to dad, take his big, wide brimmed, straw hat off, and hold it for dad to drop the bucks in. He'd take the money out of his hat, wink at me with a wicked smile, and make a big, animated show of counting it. Then he'd ride back over to me with a smug, self-satisfied look on his face and give me half. I didn't want to take it. "You worked for it, you earned it, take your prize, Cowboy." Just to hear my Uncle Bud call me a 'cowboy' was enough prize for me; however, I took the money.

I done well in high school. Don’t let my narrative fool you none. I know the difference between writing good English and bad; however, I prefer to tell my story in the West Texas vernacular. Makes more sense that-a-way, and gives you the added flavor of the way us folks communicate. ‘Sides, the best yarns you ever heard was spun in the language of the teller.

Dad, Uncle Joe, and my aunts wanted me to go to college that fall, but I had other ideas. I talked Uncle Bud into taking a year's leave of absence from being sheriff to go pro-rodeoing with me. Aunt Laura was staying behind because we were going to be doing some hard traveling; just us men. Somehow, Aunt Laura didn't seem to mind too much. Since they didn't have kids, I think they thought of me as their son, and she knew it was a dream Uncle Bud and I had for several years. I knew if I didn't go to college there was a chance I'd get called up for the draft and sent to Vietnam. I had to take the chance. I was desperately in love with my Uncle Bud and rodeoing. That's what real men should be doing, I thought, and what better man to be with for a whole year.

I hoped Uncle Bud would teach me how to be a man. A year on the road with the man I loved most in my life was too much to pass up. Uncle Bud and I loaded up his cab-over camper, and attached his horse trailer to the truck for our two babies. Uncle Bud took his favorite roping pony, a Palomino Morgan mare he named Dolly. I had a small gelded Pinto I loved what could read my mind. I was in love with Guy Madison on T.V. Remember 'The Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok'? Andy Devine was his sidekick. The last film Madison made was 'Bull Whip' in 1958. Classic western. The man could use a whip. Watched 'Bull Whip' twelve times in the dark balcony of the only theater in our small town, the Odeon. Took my old bandanna with me and jacked off every time I watched it. Damnation, he was one hot cowboy. So was I in a dark corner of the balcony. I named my horse, Madison, after him.

My Uncle Bud looked a little like Guy Madison only bigger and more masculine. Madison was kinda pretty. Weren't nothing pretty 'bout my Uncle Bud. He was damn good looking, but he was all man. He didn't take no shit off nobody. He walked like a stud in them big cowboy boots of his, hips slung forward as he sort of swaggered. He'd sling his big boots in front of him when he walked. ‘It's the way cowboys walk. That's the way a real man should walk,’ I thought to myself. I used to walk behind him and imitate his walk. I wanted to learn to walk like him. I wanted to be a cowboy.

After our first rodeo on the road, Uncle Bud grabbed two beers from the small fridge in the camper. To my surprise he handed me one, and smiled as he popped his open. "If you're old enough to die for your country, you're old enough to drink. Just don't let me catch chu’ drinking in my county while I'm sheriff until you're twenty-one; less'n, you's drinking with me, understand?" he asked.

"Thank's, Uncle Bud, I won't. This is my first beer," I replied.

"Well, we won today, and I was really proud of you, Son."

I was lying in the bunk over the cab of the truck. He reached up, grabbed the back of my head, and kissed me on the forehead like it was the most natural thing he ever did. I was surprised, but tried not to show it. It was the first time I had an adult male share an intimate gesture with me. It was a wonderful, unassuming, tender moment I often dreamed of sharing with my uncle. I couldn't stop my old cock from getting hard. I rolled on my stomach so he wouldn't notice, but my face grew warm and then hot. I though it must be the beer. Uncle Bud smiled knowingly to see me blush, but didn't say nothing.

"Thanks for that, Uncle Bud, and I appreciate the beer, too," I said and grinned.

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled to himself at my double meaning. I drank my beer, but didn't really like it. It tasted like horse piss smelled. What did my dad and other men see in this shit? We talked for a while, then Uncle Bud offered me another beer. I though maybe the second one wouldn't be as bad. I was wrong, it was worse, but it sure made me feel relaxed. I shucked off my clothes, and was lying naked in the bed over the cab of the truck. It was the only bed in the truck. I never slept wearing underwear. I don't own but two pair, and I wear them only when I go to church. Hell, real cowboys don't never wear no underwear no ways. Uncle Bud crawled in the bunk next to me and was still wearing his underwear.

"You don't sleep in underwear, Son?" he asked.

"Never have, Uncle Bud. You want me to get a pair and put 'em on?" I asked in reply.

He mused for a minute and looked at my naked body. "Hell, no. It's just us men. I'll shuck mine off, too." With that he took off his jockey shorts, and threw them on the floor. I couldn't remember ever seeing my uncle naked before. I couldn't help look at his big cock as it flopped around on the foam mattress. Damn, it was huge, and he had a big set of balls to match. He smelled good, too. 'Damn it! I'm gonna' have to sleep on my stomach all night,' I thought.

"Now, Son, I'm used to rolling over and throwing my arms around your Aunt Laura, so if'n you wake up and I got my arms around you, think nothing of it, just go back to sleep, okay?"

"Sure, Uncle Bud, you could put your arms around me now if you wanted to. I wouldn't mind," I said.

He looked at me funny for a moment, then threw his big cowboy arms around me, pulled me up to him in a bear hug. I started getting hard almost immediately. I tried to hide it and was embarrassed. He chuckled. "Does your old uncle turn you on, Son?" he asked.

"If I lied and told you, 'No sir,' would you believe me, Uncle Bud?" I asked in reply.

"I would, Son, if'n that little brain between you legs hadn't decided to set itself on a pedestal." We both laughed. "You ever been with a girl, Son?" he asked.

"Naw, sir. Ain’t much interested in girls, Uncle Bud," I replied.

"I done figured that. I watched you pretty close over the years, and I'd a' know'd if you had. Good thing you didn't try to lie to me, I'd a' know'd that, too."

"Yes, sir, Uncle Bud. I'd never lie to you," I replied.

"Think you're interested in boys, Son?" he asked innocently.

"No, sir, I don't think so. Then again, I ain't never been with no boy neither," I replied.

He laughed at my answer. "Well, what are you interested in, Billy?" he asked.

"Men, sir," I replied.

"Oh, I see." he said, mused to himself, and chuckled softly, "Weren't you worried I might be upset if you told me some'um like 'at?" he asked.

"Naw, sir. I done figured you wouldn't be holding me this way, Uncle Bud, if it'ud upset you. 'Sides, you done told me all my life I could tell you anything, and it wouldn't upset you, long as I's honest," I replied.

"Good point, Son! You's a smart kid. All those things are right. You could've told me, and it wouldn't upset me in the least; neither, would I love you one bit less than what I do now. You're a good young man, Billy, and I couldn't love you more if'n you were my own son. Have you ever given thought to being more intimate with your old uncle, Son?" he asked with a grin.

"I've jacked off thinking about it, Uncle Bud," I replied.

"I'd say that's givin' it some hard thoughtt," Uncle Bud said and we laughed at his joke, "I thought maybe you had. I seen the way you look at me when you didn't think I's looking. I seen you lick your lips when you look at my old boots like you wanna' taste 'em. I thought once when I hugged you and held you close for a minute, a couple of weeks ago, you got a big-old hard-on."

"You're right, Uncle Bud. I'm sorry, I can't help it. I been in love with you s’long as I can remember," I apologized.

"Ain't nothin' to be sorry about, Billy. Come to think on it, I been in love with you a good while longer'n 'nat. I fell in love with you when you's in your momma's arms.  I've loved you all these years and watched you grow into a fine young man; one I'm proud to rodeo with and bunk it in with. You feel good in my arms, Cowboy. To tell the God's honest truth, Honcho, I done committed the sin of Onan more'n a few times thinkin' 'bout you," he said. Uncle Bud brushed his full bushy mustache against my neck, and kissed me gently behind my ear. I thought I done died and went to heaven. It was a little strange to have my uncle hold me this way, but one I dreamed about for so long, now that it was really happening, it seemed natural. It just felt right, somehow.

"Can I feel you, Uncle Bud?" I asked quietly.

"It's just us men, Son, of course you can. When it's just us, you and me, you don't never have to ask. You wanna' play with your uncle's cock, grab yourself a handful.  Just be gentle and take it slow. If you want more than just playing with it, I'll give it to you, but not tonight. Get use to me, I'll get use to you, then maybe tomorrow, if we win, I'll start teaching you how to pleasure me, but only if you want to, understand?" he asked.

"I understand. I know I ain't never gonna' be interested in girls, Uncle Bud. My old dick goes soft ever' time I'm around 'em, but a good looking man in a hot pair of tight Wranglers and cowboy boots'll make me pop a boner ever’ damn time. I know I wanna' have sex with men, I just don't know what to do or how to go about it. I'd appreciate it if you'd teach me, Uncle Bud. I'd rather learn from a man what loves me than some self-centered jerk-wad who don't know what he's doing and don't care."

"Sounds reasonable to me, Son. I see you've thought this out. I'm impressed. If'n you're bound to have sex with men, I can break you in gently, show you what to expect, and what you should know to pleasure another man. Sex between men can often be about conquest, but between men what care for each other it should be about the exchange of physical pleasure and mutual release no matter who's in the saddle. We'll take it slow and easy. I'm sure you'll do fine. You've always been eager to please. Is that why you wanted to go rodeoing with me this year, Honcho, to teach you about man-sex?" Bud asked.

"Naw, sir, Uncle Bud. I told you I played with ma'self thinking about making love with you, but I ain't never thought I might get to. My expectations t'weren't that great. I wanted a year with the most important man in my life. That was the main reason I wanted to be with you. I wanted a chance to be alone with you without so many interruptions we gotta' deal with at home, you being sheriff and all. I wanted to rodeo with you, watch you, and maybe learn from you how to become a man. Those were the most important things to me, Uncle Bud. Honest, I wasn't really countin' on nothin' else, but I damn sure ain't gonna' turn it down if'n you want it, 'cause I love you, Uncle Bud."

"Oh, fuck, boy!" he exclaimed quietly, "You ain't got no idea how much I love you. I'd do anything for you, teach you anything you wanted to know about rodeoing, man-sex, or just becoming a man," he said. I took Uncle Bud's big, rough hand, put it around my rock hard penis, and he stroked it gently several times. "Damn fine cock, Son, a side of beef to be proud of. Don't feel shy, Cowboy, if you wanna' reach down 'nere and feel me, go ahead. Grab yourself a big-old handful." Uncle Bud encouraged me. I reached down and wrapped my hand around his large penis, and stroked it a few times. My smaller hand would barely fit around it. I dreamed about holding my uncle's big cock.

My smaller dick got even harder. "You're a lot bigger'n me, Uncle Bud," I said.

"I'm older and physically bigger than you, Honcho. You ain't finished growing yet. You'll get bigger as time goes on. You'll be as big as me one day, I promise."

I slept all night with a rock hard dick, and so did Uncle Bud. With his big arms around me, during the night, Uncle Bud would reach down and gently cup my dick and balls in one of his big hands like it was the most natural thing to do. He held them like he was protecting them; like they were the most valuable things on Earth to him. Life couldn't get no better than this, I decided; sleeping in the arms of the man I loved above all others, him holding my cock and balls, feeling his big dick pressed against my backside. There was no question in my mind, I was the luckiest buckaroo on the circuit.

Early the next morning, I didn't ask permission, I reached over and wrapped my hand around his big dick to feel it again. He told me I could if I was gentle. He kept his eyes closed and let me. I started jacking him off and really got into it. I got between his legs crouched over him, so's I could play with myself while I was working on him. I was working him good, and I could feel him getting close. I was glad 'cause I was almost ready to shoot myself. I wanted to take him in my mouth when he shot. I wanted his come in my stomach. I wanted to taste my cowboy uncle. "Can I have it, Uncle Bud?  Please, I wanna’ taste you?"
 
"You worked for it, Cowboy, you earned it, take your prize," he replied.

His words alone, calling me a cowboy again, made me shoot, and I felt his flow coming up through my hand. I leaned over and put my mouth around the head as he unloaded his man size, cowboy load into my mouth. I swallowed and tasted it at the same time. Uncle Bud was strong, tart, on the boarder of being sweet afterward, and had lots of flavors which reminded me of him. He tasted like man – of sweat, leather, hay, horses, and beer – all good masculine flavors. His come was the best damn thing I think I ever had in my mouth. All I knew was, if he let me, I was going to play catcher for as much of his hot cowboy cream as he would allow me to have. He was spent and pleased I took him. He pulled me up to his big chest and kissed me gently. "Damn fine job, Boy, damn fine! You made your old uncle feel like a king. If we win today, then later this evening, I'll start teaching you how to please me."

"I love you, Uncle Bud, and we'll win today, I know it."

"Love you, too, Honcho. I think we got us a damn good chance of winning. Now, get down there, and clean your boy cream off your Uncle Bud's cock with your tongue. Do you good to eat your own spunk, Son? It'll make hair grow on your chest," he said a grinned.

I immediately got down and lapped up every bit of my come from his tight belly and abdomen. I cleaned around his pubes and thighs. He relaxed and seemed to enjoy my attention while I cleaned him. When I was finished he pulled me up into his big arms and make sweet love to me for a few minutes before our busy day began.

We did win? We won everyday at the rodeo in Sweet Water. We didn't have much competition, but we won some damn good money. I told Uncle Bud to hang on to my money for me, 'cause I had plenty and didn't want to be carrying around a lot of extra cash. There's a special motel in Sweet Water which caters to horse people.  They got stables in the rear of the place you can stall and board your horses for a night or two. We took care of the ponies, Uncle Bud got us a room, and told me to watch T.V., he'd be back in a few minutes. When he returned he had some packages from a drug store. He handed me a box, and told me it was an enema bag with which to clean myself.

He explained if I wanted him to use me, I had to clean myself, so I didn't get hurt, and he didn't get dirty. Sounded reasonable to me. He showed me how to use it standing in the shower, and it didn't hurt or nothing. It just washed all the crap out of me. I had a hard-on the whole time thinking about Uncle Bud sticking his big mature cock up my ass and fucking me. Damn, just the thought of it almost made me come. I cleaned myself good, but he had me walk around to make sure all the water drained out of me. We watched T.V. for a while and had a couple of beers. We were both naked, and I crawled up in his big arms to watch T.V.

He leaned down and kissed me gently on the mouth. "Think you got yourself clean enough?" he asked in a concerned voice.

"Yes, sir, I done like you told me. I cleaned myself until the water come out clean," I replied.
 
"Good, you ready for your first fucking, Honcho?" he asked.

"Sure am, Uncle Bud, can't wait to feel your big cock inside me," I replied.

"You afraid, Billy?" Uncle Bud asked.

"Not with you, Uncle Bud. You wouldn't let me do this if you thought it was gonna' hurt me. You been honest with me, told me what to expect, and I already done figured there might be some pain or discomfort my first time. As long as I know, I'll expect it, and won't be afraid. I sort a' look at myself as a young bronc what needs to be tamed by a big, handsome buckaroo what's an experienced wrangler who'll make me into a right good ridin' pony for him.

"Good way of looking on it, Honcho, 'cause 'zat's exactly what I plan to do, make a good ridin' pony out a' you," he declared and laughed as he bussed a kiss on my neck.

I could feel his full bushy mustache tickle me. "This bronc's ready to come out a' the chute, Uncle Bud."

"Well, we'll take it kinda slow at first. Then after you get comfortable with me inside you, we'll do us some good fucking. I'll ride yore' little butt like I do old Dolly. 'Cep'n I won't be using my spurs on you." He laughed at his joke. "Bet I can get you off just by fucking that little ass. Well, Hell, I'll just fuck you 'til you shoot chore' gun. How 'bout that, Cowboy?" he asked.

"Sounds good to me, Uncle Bud, as long as you beat the eight second buzzer and stay in my saddle you'll probably win the rodeo," I replied.

"I guarantee I'll beat the eight second buzzer and then some, Cowboy. You can try'n buck me off, in fact, I hope you try, 'cause it always makes for a better ride when a man's breaking a wild one. We’ll tame you down right nice, and I'll take me a good long ride in yore' comfortable little saddle." He joked with me as he slicked up his big, hard cock with some Bag Balm. "Pull yore' knees up to your chest, and hold 'em with your arms, Honcho. 'At's it. Gonna' lubricate you with this balm, so's my cock will slip in easy and won't hurt you none."

Uncle Bud started putting the heavy grease into my hole with one finger, stretching me with two fingers, then three until he had all his fingers going into my ass opening me up. Damn, it was a good feeling having Uncle Bud play with my ass. He was gentle but determined, and kept watching my face to see if I was showing any discomfort. It felt good. He worked on my ass for some time to get the muscle loosened enough so's his big cowboy cock wouldn't hurt me. I wanted to feel my handsome uncle inside me in the worst way.

"Your little ass gettin' hungry for some cowboy cock, Boy?" he asked.

"If your dick feels half as good as you playing with my butt, climb in my saddle, Uncle Bud," I replied.

"Easy, Hoss, we'll get you saddled up here in a second. I can tell you did a good job cleaning out. You shouldn't have any problem taking me. Even as big as I am, your little hole should easily accommodate me." He was on his knees below my butt. I couldn't wait. My ass was about to get its first taste of a man's cock, and I said a prayer of thanks it was my cowboy uncle who would take me for my first time.

"Now, I'm gonna' be real gentle with you yore' first time, Son. I ain't a' gonna' feed it all to you at once; however, once I get it in, I'm gonna' hold it in you 'til yore' little ass stops arguing with my cock. Man-sex can be a mite uncomfortable until you get going. Your ass is gonna' wanna' spit it back out, and tell my old cowboy prick it shouldn't be in there. I ain't a' gonna' lie to you, Son, it always hurts the first time. Your ass is used to stuff coming out, but it ain't too damned thrilled about something being shoved into it. Your little ass is virgin, so it's gonna' take some stretching.

It may be uncomfortable for a while, but when yore' ass calms down, I'll stretch you a little, and after that it should start to feel a lot better. By the end of the summer you'll be jumping on my old dick without any lubricant at all. Just a little spit on my dick, a little on your hole, and you'll slam that little butt down hard on my old cayuse like you's a bronco buster going for the prize. If it starts to hurt, move your ass around, and try to buck me off. It'll be good for you, take your mind off the hurt, and give me some good ridin.' Loosen you up quicker, too. Ready to come out of the chute, Cowboy?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, Uncle Bud, mount this old hoss." I urged him. He had the big mushroom head of his cock poised at my back door, leaned forward, and let the weight of his body sink the big head into my virgin ass. He slowly but surely worked the rest of it in, filling my ass.

"Woah, dogies!  Damn, Uncle Bud, that filled me up! Oh, shit, it's start'n to hurt, Uncle Bud! I'm gonna' buck you off, Cowboy! No eight second buzzer for you." I was kidding, but I was damn serious. It wasn't just uncomfortable, it hurt. I started moving my ass like a bronco with a burr under his saddle. He held on as I pitched and bucked. I almost bucked him out of my ass, but he'd slam it home again to the base of his big cock. The more I bucked the more loose I became until I found myself doing it just to feel how good he felt sliding back into me.

I started laughing, and made the sound of a buzzer. "Okay, Uncle Bud, you win the bareback riding contest. Son of a bitch, that hurt for a few minutes, but you broke this stallion; you tamed him. Your pony’ll ride right nice for you now. Ride him around the arena, Uncle Bud, take your hat off and wave to the crowd."

Uncle Bud laughed, leaned over, and planted a kiss on me that made my ass open even wider for his big cowboy cock. "You done good, Cowboy. That old hoss of yorn damn near bucked me off a couple a' times. Gave me a good ride, Son. How's that feel, Buckaroo?" he asked as he took one big, long, gentle stroke to the base of his cock into my butt.

I went nuts with the feeling of the sensation. "Feels like I gotta' take a shit, Uncle Bud," I replied.

"Well, that's natural." He laughed understandingly, "The best part is, I fill you up like that, then I take it out like this. (he withdrew to the head) You've shit me out, but now you feel empty don't you?"

"Hell, yes, sir! It feels much better with you inside me. Put it back, Uncle Bud, fill me up again." He slowly drove his big shaft back into my ass, and I was once again filled with my uncle's goodness. I went nuts with how good it felt. Never had anything make me feel so good as my uncle's big piece of meat being fed to my butt. I wiggled my ass to push back and up to get as much of his fine, prime, grade-A, cowboy beef in me I could. There was a little more he didn't give me I took for myself.  "Oh, God! Oh, oh, thank you, Uncle Bud! Thank you for filling me up again. I can't remember anything what ever felt so bad and so good at the same time. You won the prize, Uncle Bud, fuck your tamed pony's ass. It's yours to ride."

Uncle Bud began to fuck me with great love and passion. He was going to ride me where he wanted to go, but he was going to make damn sure the man under him was enjoying it just as much. He fucked me much like he rode his horse with care and compassion for the animal under him. He made the sweetest love to his nephew any man could. He took it slow and was in no hurry. The more he fucked me, the more my ass opened to him. All of a sudden, it dawned on me, there was no more pain. Damned, if he weren't right. It felt pretty damn good, too.

No, it felt fucking great! I found myself working with him, putting my ass up for him, meeting him stroke for stroke, so he didn't have to hunt for it. He would kiss me so gently, tell me how good I was making him feel, and how much he appreciated me working my ass to give him a good fuck. I also had another realization; I knew I would never be able to get enough of this wonderful man's dick in either hole. I was falling head over boot heels in love with my cowboy uncle. He would stop to rest every now and then, ask me if I had enough, or did I want him to get us off?

"No, please, Uncle Bud, ride me a bit more. Now the hurt's gone, it feels too damn good to stop; that is, if you're enjoying it as much as me. Damn, you feel good in there, Uncle Bud. So take your prize, Cowboy," I joked with him, "ride your tamed pony around the ring several more times. Am I pleasing you, Uncle Bud? Does it feel good to you?" I asked.

He leaned over and gently kissed me on the lips. "Yes, Son, it feels better'n good. You feel so damn good, I could pop both our nuts in nothing flat, but we'll ride a little more if you like. I could always use me a little more time in the saddle, riding a tight, young, rodeo cowboy's butt."

Uncle Bud fucked me so gently and strong. I envied Aunt Laura, but I began to wonder how much sex they had? T'weren't none of my business. Uncle Bud was really getting into riding me. He was a man who dearly loved fucking. He liked it long, slow, deep and gentle. He was in no hurry to get anywhere. He knew the more he fucked my ass the more it would relax and open to him. Before he rode us home he was going to open me like a flower. He stopped and kissed me so gently I almost got tears in my eyes.

"I love you, Cowboy," he whispered in my ear.

"I love you, too, Uncle Bud," I replied.

"Son, it feels so good being way up inside you, but do you realize I've been fucking you for over an hour. I think that's enough fucking for one evening. I think it's time I got us off. I'm gonna' start fucking ya' pretty hard and deep. You hang on and keep offering your little ass up to me. The more you put it up there and work with me, the better it's gonna' be for both of us. Working that little ass will get you ready and primed for when the cowboy in your saddle is ready to take us to the barn. Trust me, and I'll get us there, Son. Leave the fucking to Uncle Bud, and keep working that little butt for me. If you get near shooting yore' pistol, holler at me, 'cause I'm gonna' fuck you 'til you do, then I'll get mine."

Uncle Bud started fucking me faster with bigger and deeper strokes. My ass was so open to him it felt wonderful. I was helping the man I loved, to pleasure himself and shoot his seed inside of me. I kept my ass up for him like he told me, so I could give him the best possible access for his pleasure. He didn't have to hunt for it. I made sure every stroke of his massive shaft found its way home easily and smoothly. My efforts were working, because the more I gave myself to him the more excited I became. I knew his incessant thrusting with his big shaft was about to bring me to climax.

"Oh, oh, – ooohhh, Uncle Bud!  I can't hold back no more, you're hitting something in there what –  oh, my, God!" I exclaimed.

"Take your prize, Cowboy, you earned it, your Uncle Bud's gonna' fuck you 'til you do. Get it, Cowboy!" he commanded.

I shot, shot, and shot again trying to bite his cock off with my ass spasming around it. It was the single, best feeling I ever had in my young life, shooting my load while my cowboy uncle was fucking me. It tripped his come trigger, and he sank one big thrust into me as I felt his come burst into my gut. I could feel its heat and goodness as he spilled into my ass his hot cowboy cream. He tamed his wild stallion, and rode him down hard. Uncle Bud won the rodeo. He was one cowboy who earned his prize. "Woah, damnation! That was some good fucking, Son! You stayed with me the whole time. I gotta' tell you, Billy, for your first fucking you performed like a rodeo champ. That had to be one of the finest man fucks I've ever done had," Uncle Bud complimented me. He held me tight with his big cock still inside me, and kissed me gently.

"Thank you, Uncle Bud, for taking your time and patience to make this good for me. I can see how one man could really hurt another if he didn't take his time and fuck him right. I really appreciate you teaching me. During our time together all you gotta' do is snap your fingers, and my ass is yours, sir. I'd be right proud to catch your seed any time, Uncle Bud," I said.

He kissed me again. "Ah, shoot, Son, we'll have lots of time to fuck while we's on the road. You can suck me off while I'm driving. We can have lots of fun with each other, and it'll only keep gettin' better. Think you're gonna' like cowboy sex, Son?" he asked.

"As long as you're the cowboy, Uncle Bud. You know I love you more'n anybody on this Earth," I said using cowboy hyperbole, but I was damn close.

"I love you, too, Son.  Now, lets get cleaned up and get to bed. We got a long travel day ahead of us tomorrow."
 
We got into the shower, I bathed and toweled him dry. He was my God, I loved him so much. He had a beautiful body and a fine penis. We climbed into one bed together, I curled up in his big cowboy arms and felt safe, loved, wanted, and appreciated. Not only was I a good partner for him, I was a good fuck, too. I knew we were going to have a good year together. I slept all night in his arms. I'd wake up and find him pulling me closer, and feel his big rock hard penis against me. Once again he slept with both his big hands cupped around my cock and balls, like he was protecting them from bad things what go bump in the night. Come morning, I eased my ass back down on his big shaft until I had it all the way in. Either he was still asleep or pretended to be. Finally he stretched and grabbed me around my waist to plant the last few inches inside me. We lay together for a while with his big cock deeply lodged in my ass. He let it soak in my butt as he kissed around on my ear and teased me for sitting down on him.
 
"Think you're gonna' like ridin' cowboy cock, Son?" he asked lazily as he yawned and stretched.

"As long as you're the cowpoke, Uncle Bud," I replied, and he laughed.

"Think you want a little more buckaroo gizz this morning, Buckaroo?" he asked.

"Sure would start our morning off right, wouldn't it, sir?" I asked in reply.

"Good thinking, Son. Hold on then, and I'll do us a quick ride," he said. Uncle Bud began to fuck me from behind. It was a little different experience, but it still felt just as good. He fucked me good until he grabbed hold of my dick, gave it three big pumps, I exploded all over my belly, and felt him shooting another big cowboy load inside me. He did it again. We lay together for a good while with him still inside me. I didn't want him to withdraw, and he didn't either. Finally he kissed me behind the ear and slowly withdrew.

"Damn fine fuck, Son, mighty fine! Made me hungry as a bear. Let's get us cleaned up, grab some breakfast, and hit the road," he said. I thanked him again for fucking me and getting me off. I told him I loved him again.

That summer was magic. We fucked our way across the United States, and won one Hell of a lot of prize money. (not for fucking, for team roping) We were fourth in the Pro Rodeo Cowboy's Association standing for team roping. My dad and Uncle Joe damn near shit. They couldn't believe it. They knew we were good, but had no idea we were that good. We always were solid in our roping, but I don't think we came together as a team until Uncle Bud and I started fucking. If they gave a prize for fucking, I'm sure we would've won that, too. Our love making translated into our roping. We were more focused, faster, and more accurate. We grew so close we could read each other's minds when we were roping. We couldn't miss. We were damn good and getting better every day. There was a closeness between us people noticed everywhere we went. Everyone assumed I was his son, but we didn't tell 'em no different.

One day we saw a Pro Rodeo Cowboy's Association magazine with our pictures on the front as one of the three top roping teams in the county. We posed for the picture with a lot of other cowboys as a standard thing for the PRCA. They wanted current photos on hand for their publication. We were stunned when we saw the cover of the magazine. We looked like father and son. Had we grown that close? I looked just like Uncle Bud. I couldn't have walked taller that day. He even commented on it. I filled out, gained some muscle, and looked damn good. I was no longer a gangly, awkward, skinny kid somewhat shy and unsure of himself. When I looked into a mirror the image looking back was a tall, fine looking, well proportioned confident young male, and one kick-ass, sexy cowboy.

I'd take two fingers, adjust my big wide brimmed, black felt cowboy hat just up from dead center and a scooch to the right. "Yeah, who's the meanest looking som' bitch'n buckaroo on the circuit?" I'd ask myself. Then I'd laugh and blush at my vanity.

By the end of summer, I pert-near got my uncle's walk down perfect. I'd keep my hips tight, sling my old boots out and sort of swagger from side to side a little, but not too much. It had to be just right to look authentic. Too much and it looked like you's trying to walk like a cowboy. You wanted folks to know you was the gen-u-wine article. "Well, of course he's a real cowboy, Babs, look at the way he walks." I overheard some older woman say to her companion. E'aup, I got it down pat. I'd reach to either side of my Wranglers, push my thumbs down between my belt and my heavily starched western shirt, hitch up my pants to square everything away and give just a little extra accent to my right boot swagger as I checked to make sure my shirt was tucked in all the way around. Don't accent both boots, that's overkill. One hand to the back of me hat and one to the front to square it away again. Gotta' be conscious of the way you look when you's a cowboy. ‘Yeah, Lady,’ I thought to myself, ‘learned it from me Uncle Bud and he's a real cowboy. He taught me how to be one, too. Learned me how to walk like a buckaroo. Learned me how to be a man.  Yeah, you be look'n at a real, honest to God cowboy. I may never learn too much in life, but I sure as Hell know how to walk like a buckaroo.’

I grew up that summer. In the picture, Uncle Bud and I wore matching western shirts, black felt hats we bought, and we looked enough alike to be brothers. The photographer gave me several glossy prints I still have today. It's my favorite picture of me and the man I grew to love so deeply that year. Most times the announcer of the rodeo wouldn't bother to see our last names were different and announce to the crowd, "The next team will be a father and son from Mason, Texas, Bud Cummings and his son, Billy. Bud's on leave of absence as sheriff of his county to spend a year rodeoing with his boy. They're rated number three roping team in the nation. They'll be going to the national finals in Ft. Worth this year." The crowd would applaud and cheer. I was so fucking proud. Uncle Bud would wink at me, push his hat back on his head, lean over on Dolly and speak softly to me, "Wish't ta' Hell ya' was my son, Cowboy," he'd say.

"I sure as Hell wish't I was, too, Uncle Bud. I love you so damn much I ache in my gut sometimes," I'd reply.

I would have been anything that handsome man wanted me to be. I did everything I could that year to try to show him how much I loved him. I cleaned and polished his big boots, kept our clothes clean, rubbed his sore back for him, took care of the horses, repaired our tack and sometimes fixed an evening meal in the camper for us. He was falling deeper in love with me, too. I could feel it. We knew our year together was coming to an end, but neither one of us wanted to think about it. We made it to the Calgary stampede and stayed in the home of Mr. Ben Stafford and his family. Mr. Stafford was a big, good looking cowboy. He rodeoed with Uncle Bud in their early days. Uncle Bud told me before we got to the ranch he and Mr. Stafford were old roping partners. Mr. Stafford owned a big ranch outside of Calgary and lived there with his wife and four kids. Mr. Stafford was a rock solid middle aged man. Hard work around the ranch kept his body in great shape.

"Bud, I ain't never seen no kid as devoted to his uncle as Billy is to you. That damn kid worships you. Usually, kids his age are wise-ass punks, but Billy is well mannered, intelligent, and thoughtful. You should be real proud of him," Ben Stafford said.

"I am Ben. How many kids come along you wish't you could say was your own son?" Uncle Bud asked.

"Not too damn many, Bud, I'll tell ya,'" Ben replied.

"He's my wife's sister's boy. He's my nephew. I had a feelin' you'd cotton to 'em," Uncle Bud said and grinned.

"Hell, the kid looks enough like you to be your son, Bud," Ben Stafford allowed.

"Lot of people have said that," Uncle Bud said. Then he pulled out the PRCA magazine with our pictures on the cover to show his friend.

"Damn, that's shore' 'nuff spooky, Bud," Ben said shaking his head.

"Ain't it?" Uncle Bud would just beam, "Well, his granddad and my momma were brother and sister. I married his momma's sister so that makes us second cousins as well as being his uncle by marriage. There has to be some family resemblance there. Maybe that accounts for the likeness, I don't know," Uncle Bud said and shook his head.

"I damn near shit my pants when I saw this good looking young buckaroo get out of your truck. It was like I was thrown twenty years into the past. He's the spitting image of you at that age. He made my old iron-heart skipped a beat. Made my old cock started dripping, too," Mr. Stafford allowed and laughed; so did Uncle Bud.

"Everyone just assumes he's my kid, and most of the time we let 'em. He does look a lot like me, I'll admit, but you know what, Ben? I couldn't be prouder of that kid if'n he was my own boy. He's been one Hell of a rodeo partner, and we're headed for the national finals in Ft. Worth. We been living together in that small camper on my truck for almost a year now, and we ain't never had a cross word. I never had to tell him to do nothing. He works his ass off taking care of me and a lot of things I forget. He's just a damn good kid," Uncle Bud said.

"You've really had a good year then, Bud?" Ben asked almost with envy.

"The greatest year of my life, Ben – 'cep'n the six I spent with you on the circuit. How many men our age get to do it again; relive their youth and have a partner like my nephew?" Bud asked.
 
"I have to ask, Bud, is it like it was with you and me all them years ago?" Ben asked.

"Yeah, Ben, he's becoming my boy. Ain't much left to teach him. I love him so much. Nobody could ever take your place in my heart, Ben, you know that. Billy's like a son to me," Uncle Bud said quietly. The older man wiped away a tear.

"You are to him like I was to you, an older brother. You're right about our love though, Cowboy. I still got the same love in my heart for you today. You know I'll always love you. Ain't never loved a man like I loved you, Bud. Never will again, either." The two big men hugged each other with tears in their eyes recalling the good times long ago when they held each other close, and made sweet cowboy love to each other.

"Hot damn, it's good to see you again, Bud! It's been too damn long, cowboy, but ain't it crazy, the way we live our lives? I got four grown, wonderful children, three of 'em with kids of their own. I love my grand-kids, love my kids, love my wife, but my love for you, all them years ago, left a hole in my heart; a hole I never filled. In a way, I don't want to either, I'm happy with the memories. The closest I come is my love for my boy, Ben Jr. I know the kid loves me, or he'd never put up with my bullshit this long without complaining. He's our oldest child. I don't know for sure, Bud, but I think my boy's gonna' like to rodeo with other cowboys. You wouldn't think it to look at him. He's a hard-ass lookin' hombre and a cowboy to the core; more so, than his old man ever was."

"What makes you think that, Ben? Seems like a fine young man to me. Hell, he looks just like you when we was partnering on the circuit. He makes a fine looking cowboy. He sits a good horse. Has he done anything to make you suspect he might like to be a butt bust'n buckaroo," Uncle Bud said with a grin. Ben Stafford fell out laughing at Bud's alliteration.

"I forgot 'bout that title we made up 'cause we hated the 'G' word. Well, did ju' ever hear of a kid being too damn good, Bud?" the big cowboy asked.

"Yea, I got me one travel'n with me, my rodeo partner, Billy, my nephew, that kid'll do anything for me," Bud replied.

"That's exactly my point. Nothing I do ever seems to rile the boy. God forgive me, I done things just to see if I could get a rise out of 'em. 'Course, I told him later I was wrong, and I was sorry. He always makes an excuse for me, and tells me to forget it. He won't say nothing, but once in a while there's a way he looks at me when he don't think I can see, when I get this feeling of unconditional love from him like I used to feel from you. He drives me crazy sometimes, I get so damn frustrated. They's been afternoons he worked his ass off mucking out the stalls in the barn. He'll have his shirt off, be hot, sweaty, and dirter'n shit. It's all I can do to keep from grabbing him, holding him so tight he can't get away, and planting a big one right on his mouth. I try to be his dad, but part of me wants to love him another way.

"Sometimes it's all I can do to keep my hands off'n the boy, so I don't touch him or show him much affection. Hell, I love him more'n them other three put together, but I'm afraid to show him much love for fear of, well, you know. I ain't been fair with him. I made him do all the chores around the ranch while his brother and sisters fucked off. They never offered to give him a hand. I wanted him to do the chores, 'cause the other three didn't give a shit and wouldn't do 'em right noways. I guess they figured if they continually fucked up, I wouldn't be happy with their work, and make Ben Jr. do it. That's exactly what I did.

"He never once complained I put it all on him. He does anything I tell him without question. You'd think he'd be jealous of his brother and sisters, but he never was.  He loves them today. The worst thing is, the more he does for me, the more I take him for granted, and I know he wonders why I don't show him more love. As a result, I ended up with a quiet, loner cowboy who knows more about ranching and being a buckaroo than I ever will. He's practically a slave to me, but neither of us are reaping the benefits.

"I sent the three younger kids to college. He wanted to go, too. He made top grades in school, better'n the other three, and graduated third in his class. He's a smart kid. I made up some lame excuse not to send him, and told him I needed him here. It was a lie, Bud. When I thought about him going off to college and being away from me for four years, I damn near went crazy. Truth is, I didn't want him leaving me. He don't understand he's become his old man's right arm. He don't even know.  My wife tells me he thinks I don't love or appreciate him. I been selfish with him, 'cause I love him so damn much. I paid a price though. He's drifting away from me, and I don't know what to do about it. Sometimes we'll be working in the barn, be camped out rounding up strays in the brush, and it's all I can do to keep from taking him in my arms. I'd probably scare the poor kid to death," Ben lamented.

"Have you tried talking with him?" Bud asked.

"Naaw, – I can't, Bud. I'm his dad. He looks on me like I's some kind of hero, and truth is, I want to be his hero. I need to be his hero," Ben admitted.

"You might introduce him to another title that means about the same thing, at least it did to me when we were ridin' together," Uncle Bud said.

"What's that, Bud?"

"Master."

"I hate to admit it, and I never would to anyone but you, but the thought has crossed my mind. How do you tell your kid you've fallen in love with him? 'Oh, yes, Son, and by the way, from now on I'm gonna' be your master, and I plan to carefully train you to be my slave.' Sweet Jesus, life can be complicated sometimes. I suppose that's why I ain't never told him nothing. I went through some denial at first, but I'm pretty sure about him. I keep hoping he's the way we were. Then I could share some things with him about my past, about you, what you mean to me, and try to help him understand he ain't no different.

"Not to listen to nothin' them bible thumping son's of bitches tell him. God loves him more'n them stupid bastards. 'Sides that, he's a cowboy and God's got a soft spot in his heart for cowboys. You know, maybe it's providence you'n Billy dropped by. Maybe it'll be the incentive I need to find the courage to be honest with the boy.  When you called and said you and your nephew might stop by, I had to run to the bathroom and jack off. I ain't trying to come on to you or nothing, Cowboy, it's just a compliment I needed to pass on," the big rancher smiled.

"Well, to be dead honest, I was looking forward to seeing you again, Ben, to see what effect you had on me after all these years. Listen, old man, I got such a boner when I saw you come down off that porch, I almost didn't get out of the truck. I was afraid you'd see the wet spot at my crotch." Uncle Bud looked down at the spot in his wranglers and Ben laughed, "See, you big, rotten son of a bitch, you still do it to me." The two men were laughing together, "If it weren't for our obligations to others I'd take you to the barn right this minute," Uncle Bud said.

"I'd be right behind you, Cowboy." They both laughed again, "I have to tell you, learning that about you'n Billy makes me love him that much more. I know the feelings the young man must have for you, and I love him for that. I'm glad he's such a fine young man, and you’re enjoying each other, Bud, even if it's only for a while. You deserve his love. I know the kind of man you are, and he'll carry you in his heart the rest of his life, just like I have. Now, come on, holler at Billy, and the two of you come on in for dinner. It's good to have you here, Bud."

"Thanks, Ben, and thanks – well, for everything," Bud said sincerely.

"I love you, too, Cowboy, always will," Ben Stafford replied.

Uncle Bud called me to dinner. I was looking at the horses with Ben Jr. We let Dolly and Madison out into the pasture to run, and they were having a ball. Ben Jr. was the oldest son of four kids, a younger brother and two sisters. Ben Jr. was several years older than me. He was the only child still at home. He liked to rodeo but never rode the circuit. He and his dad went to small town rodeos around Calgary. Ben Jr. was a younger, carbon copy of his old man. He walked like him, talked like him, and even set a horse like his dad.

One way they differed. He was much quieter and not as outgoing as his dad. He wasn't shy or standoffish, he just didn't have a whole Hell of a lot to say. I always liked quiet people because I seemed to have a natural talent for being quiet with them until they felt comfortable enough to let me in. Ben Jr. would respond politely to a question but rarely volunteered much conversation. I liked him and thought he was sexy. He and I were drawn to each other because we were near the same age and had a lot in common. We just didn't talk much about it. Sometimes, cowboys don't have to. They just know.

We went into the big ranch house to a wonderful dinner of fried chicken and all the fixings. Mrs. Stafford was a wonderful cook. Big Ben Stafford and Uncle Bud entertained us for hours with wild stories of their days riding the rodeo circuit together. They had everybody laughing, Ben and Uncle Bud would laugh until they got tears in their eyes, but I could see the way they looked at each other there was more between them than what we heard at the table. Later that evening, Uncle Bud and I lay together in each other's arms in a small room on a back part of their house. I could tell he was melancholic. I had a good idea why. "You and Ben were lovers all them years ago, weren't you, Uncle Bud?" I asked quietly.
 
"Is it that obvious, Cowboy?" he asked.

"Only to me, 'cause you taught me about cowboy love. I can see the signs."

"Does it upset you – make you jealous?" he asked.

"God, no, Uncle Bud, in a way it reinforces what I feel for you, and I know you feel the same. You ain't stopped loving Ben all these years, and he certainly ain't stopped loving you. I'd even share you with old Ben if you two could get alone together. I'd stand guard so's no one would catch you," I replied.

"That's the sweetest thing anybody's ever offered to do for me, Billy. That's really selfless. I love you for the thought, but I'm afraid old Ben and my days of being rodeo buddies is over. There are some things in life you can't go back and pick up the pieces. There comes a time in life, Cowboy, when you have to say goodbye to everything, even life itself. You gather the goodness, joy and love you had in this life, and take it with you to give back to God. Besides, you're my rodeo partner now, and I wouldn't do that to you. I love my cowboy what rode by my side this past year. We be partners you and me. We be a team. We're going to nationals either in second or third place depending how we do here in Calgary, and we stand a good chance of winning the whole damn thing. I want us to remember it as the crowning moment of our love together this year. I don't think we would’ve gotten this far if we didn't love each other so damn much," Uncle Bud said.

* * * * * * *
We won in Calgary. That put us in second place in the nation as top team ropers. The number one rated team was a father and son from Tucson, Dan Yates and his boy Buck. They didn't compete in the Calgary rodeo; however, we met them, competed against them at other rodeos, and we got to know them pretty well. Dan Yates was a big strapping, good looking, handsome man, almost as good looking as my Uncle Bud. Uncle Bud laughed at me and teased me. He saw me get the biggest boner watching Dan Yates. I'll admit Mr. Yates could make me pop a boner, but it wasn't him what caused it. It was his son Buck.

Holy fuck, was that young cowboy a stud? Ain't no doubt about it. Buck Yates was approximately a hundred and ninty-eight pounds of prime, grade-A  buckaroo beef on the hoof. His picture should've been in the dictionary under the word 'cowboy.' He just looked like a damn buckaroo. He was ever bit as good looking as his dad, but had a lean, mean, hard look to him. There was something animal about Buck Yates I was drawn to like a moth to a flame. I wasn't just attracted to him, I wanted to have his baby. I think he knew it, too. He'd look at me 'til he made me nervous, and I'd look away. He'd get sort of a half grin on his face that said to me, 'See something ya’ like, Cowboy, throw your hat over it.'

I wouldn't let him get away with it, though. I'd catch him looking at me or Uncle Bud the same damn way, and give him the same look and knowing grin he gave me. I'd go one step further, I'd wink at him to let him know I caught him. I'd chuckle to myself as I watched him turn crimson then slowly take the tip of his hat and pull it down over the front of his face. The Yates' were fierce competitors, but when they weren't in the arena they were easy going, good hearted men. You could tell, Dan Yates adored his son, and his son was not too good at hiding his pride for his old man. Uncle Bud and I liked them, and we got along well together. Hell, we even helped each other from time to time. Uncle Bud and I sensed their love for each other, and they seemed to sense ours. They thought Uncle Bud was my dad, but we never told 'em no different. Hell, by that time, we looked just like each other. I enjoyed having folks think Uncle Bud was my dad. He did, too.

At the Calgary rodeo the Stafford family was there rooting for us. We were the best team ropers there. We had no problem winning at Calgary. We were hot. No one could touch us. We really celebrated, and stayed up for hours talking rodeo to the Staffords and a bunch of other rodeo people. They kept referring to Uncle Bud as my dad, but we never corrected them; a point that wasn't missed by big Ben Stafford. He didn't say anything, he enjoyed sharing the fantasy with us. Ben Jr. didn't either. I think he was hot for Uncle Bud and me.

The next day we loaded up to leave, and Mrs. Stafford made a huge basket of food for us with jars of jellies and jams, homemade pickles, fresh bread, and cookies of all kinds. They really loaded us up. We didn't have to be in Ft. Worth for a while, but we wanted to start heading back towards Texas. We talked about heading home, but Uncle Bud called Aunt Laura to tell her we were going sight seeing. We might never have another chance to do this kind of thing together, and he wanted to see some things with me. He told her I deserved it because I worked my ass off all year to see we came this far. He loved her, missed her, but he would see her in Ft. Worth. Half our small town was planning on being there, including my dad and Uncle Joe.

Uncle Bud had a hard time saying goodbye to his old partner Ben Stafford. He told him he'd see him on down the road. Ben had tears in his eyes as he told him the same. Then the big man grabbed me in a bear hug, and kissed me on the cheek. "You serve yore' handsome master well, Son. He's a damn good man, and I've loved him all these years. He deserves your love. Damn, Son, you look just like he did when we were together all them years ago."

"Thanks, Mr. Stafford, he is my master, and I love him, sir. I know you loved him once the way I do. I love you, too, sir," I replied quietly.

He held me at an arm's length looking at me funny then hugged me again. "I still love him, Billy; always will, and I damn sure love you, too. Ya'll come on back any time, ya' hear? Be glad to have ya.' See ya' on down the road, Cowboy," the big cowboy said.

"On down the road, Mr. Stafford," I replied.

We left, and Uncle Bud was driving. During our trip we swapped off driving, and he could get some rest by climbing in the camper, or sleep with a pillow in the front with me. Most of the time, he preferred to ride up front if I was driving. I was quiet for sometime, thinking about the hole that was going to be in my heart when we got home; when Uncle Bud went back to his life, and I went on with mine. I spent an exciting year with the man I loved most in the world, and with whom I shared so much. He became my world. How could I give him back to Aunt Laura? I knew I had to. I knew I would. I wouldn't lose Uncle Bud, my master, as big Ben called him, but I wouldn't have this closeness anymore.

I'd been quiet for a good while. He knew me so well. "You wanna' talk about it, Cowboy?" Uncle Bud asked me.

"Mr. Stafford was right. You done become my master, ain't chu, Uncle Bud?" I asked quietly.

"Ben tell you that?" he asked kinda surprised.

"He used the word, and I agreed with him. You know you've become my master, Uncle Bud," I replied.

"Only if you want me to be, Cowboy. I'm perfectly happy with the way things are. I couldn't love you more, Billy. We're spending this last month before national finals so we can be together. Do you know what being your master means, Son? What it implies?" he asked in a serious voice I never heard him use before.

"It means a master must have a slave?" I asked.

"That's right, Son. Do you want to be my slave, Billy?" he asked like he was holding a loaded gun, and I better be careful with my answer.

"I already am, Uncle Bud. I love you more'n a gunny sack full a' puppies. I'd give you my heart and soul to keep for your own. I can't imagine anything I'd rather be than your slave, Uncle Bud. I'd be happy to worship at yore' feet for the rest of my life. I love you that much," I replied.

"Billy, I don't think I could turn you into my slave. We don't have that kind of relationship. I love you like you were my son, Billy. You mean the world to me. Let that be enough for us. It's okay if you feel I've become your master, but let it be. You already treat me like I'm you master. Don't you know I'm aware of it? Don't you know I love and appreciate you for all you do for me? You wait on me hand and foot. You do every damn thing for me you possibly can, and then, my sweet buckaroo, you bring your young body to my bed and give it to me unconditionally. I want to think you do those things because you love me, Cowboy, not because you're my slave and compelled by bonding or obligation to do them. The only thing left is kneeling before me and paying homage to my boots," he said, looked at me, and I saw a flash in his eyes. I smiled at him sheepishly.

"Well, don't think I ain't never thought about it, 'cause I do ever' damn day," I said brusquely, then added, "What the Hell difference does it make, Uncle Bud, if I pay homage to them with you in 'em or out of 'em?" I asked sharply.

"You been licking my boots and make’n love to ‘em without permission, Boy?" he asked in a hard, accusatory tone raising his voice.

Why did my dick get hard, all of a sudden? "Yes, sir," I said quietly, not expecting him to get upset.

Uncle Bud drove for some time, looking straight ahead, not looking at me, but I could see a faint smile creep across his mouth like he wasn't going to smile if it killed him. He turned, looked at me, grinned real big, winked, and we both fell out laughing. Uncle Bud smiled a proud, understanding smile. "I appreciate you sharing that with me, Cowboy. It kind a' touched my old heart. I used to do the same damn thing with Ben's boots. Okay, you win," he said as he raised both hands off the steering wheel in an I-give-up gesture. I seen you lick your lips a hun'nert times looking at my dirty old boots like you's a starving beggar who ain't been invited to the feast. Is it something you really need, Son?" he asked gently.

I didn't answer. I sat there in a stupid silence. I was praying his question was rhetorical, and he already knew the answer. I wasn't going to push. I wasn't going to tell him how many times I'd taken his big boots when he wasn't around, licked 'em clean, then polished 'em up for him. Best not rock the boat. He was right. Why did I have to have more? I had the best part of him anyway. 'Sides, I can always lick 'em when he ain't around. "I'm sorry, Uncle Bud, you're right. I guess I'm just being crazy. I heard love does that to a body sometimes," I replied quietly.

"It sure does, Cowboy. Now, get over here, and lemme' put my arm around you. You look like you need a little cowboy lovin' right now," he commanded. I moved over in the seat closer to him. He threw his big arm around me, hugged me close, then kissed me on the head real quick just above my ear. I felt safe and loved. I told myself it didn't matter he didn't want me to call him 'master.' I was going to enjoy the rest of my summer with my beloved uncle.

He was silent for sometime like he was engrossed in thought. "Okay, I'll make you a deal, Cowboy," he said.

"What's that, Uncle Bud?" I asked.

"If you feel you have to show me that respect, you need to submit to me that way, I'll go along with you calling me 'master' but only in private, never in public. You will always be my cowboy. You'll have to settle for that. I won't call you my slave," he said.

"That's fine with me, Uncle Bud, you're my master, and I'm your cowboy," I replied.

"Always will be, Cowboy."

"I love you, Master Bud."

"Sounds good to me, Son. I love my cowboy, too. Now, get down there and suck yore' master's cock, boy, and be quick about it!" he barked at me with a big grin on his face.

"Yes, sir, Master Bud, with pleasure, sir."

"Later, when we stop for the night, I'll let you have what you been hanker'n for all year. Before you pull my old boots off, you can clean 'em real good for me; but only, if you gimme' a good blow job. I want you down there suck'n on my old prick like a new born calf what can't get his momma's milk to flow fast enough."

"You'll get the best sucking you ever had, Master Bud. Can I butt you in the belly to make yore' come flow faster?" I asked.
 
Uncle Bud laughed. "Good one, Cowboy! We understand each other, Buckaroo?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, Master Bud, and thanks, it means a lot to me," I replied.

"Well, you made me realize how much it meant to me once, still does, Cowboy. I remembered the hunger in my gut when I'd catch a glimpse of Ben's big boots. It never goes away, Son. He loved me enough all those years ago to give me what I needed. He made a man out a' me, and I damn sure love you that much," he said and stole another kiss. We were silent with each other for a long while.

"Where we headed, Uncle Bud?" I asked.

"Yonder – on down the road a piece," he replied.


End Chapter 1 ~ Booger Red & Cowboy
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12/17/2015