Deadlock

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Aug 27, 2011
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At the end of the days competition I'd won my fifth gold buckle in as many years. Champion bull rider - Yee haw! This was what it was about. The check helped sure but admiring that gold beauty cinched tight about my waist was what counted for me. Otherwise muddied up to the hair line I was making my way back to my trailer, for a shower, shave and a change of duds before heading to the bar. There were beers, steaks, buckle bunnies and fights at the Western bars with my name on all of them,

The hard blow over my left ear caught me unawares. Ears ringing and head numb and spinning. I stumbled forward, almost falling. Instinct took over. I shook my head and raised my fists, turning side on to minimize the target I made. 'C'mon you bastard - come get me'' I bellowed.

A pair of incrdibly strong arms came up from under my armpits and the hands laced quickly behind my still rattled head. The arms flexed and jerked me off the ground, thrusting my chin into my chest and pulling my feet clean off the ground, sending my boots flying and spurs ringing. I was thrown to the ground hard and then the huge arms pinned me there by the shoulders. My lights flickered as my noggin smacked the hard clay but us Texans are made of stern stuff. I steeled myself to fight back.

Before I could muster my wills a second pair of hands grabbed my chaps and forced my legs open. Distracted, I stared down towards this fresh hell. A second guy was caressing my legs and moving up to my crotch. I opened my mouth to roar at him when the arms at my shoulder released me and one grabbed my hair and yanked damn hard. Below I could feel the second pair of hands grab at my huge gold trophy buckle. Fucking thieves - buckle bandits! Trying to steal my prize fir the gold it contained! Bastards! I kicked hard, hard as I could, hoping to connect and cause as much damage as I could.

No such luck. As I kicked and struggled the first guy brought his other huge hand down and covered my face with a chloroform soaked rag, and pressed down hard. I could smell the sick sweet liquid and taste it on my lips. I resolved to hold out as long as possible. Some other cowboys were sure to happen by and help one of their own. I struggled hard against the rag, knowing it would evaporate and I just had to wait.

The second attacker seemed to sense this was the case. He started to provocatively stroke my warm trophy buckle and then he grabbed my crotch, kneading expertly at my cock. I breathed in sharply, and got a chest full of noxious chemical, and started to cough and struggle some more. Changing tactics he continued his attentions on my involuntarily and to my shame and horror stiffening crotch, and with his other free hand, he opened the snap buttons of my Jack Daniels sponsors shirt and slowly sucked my nipples. Again the shock and the pleasure caused me to swallow more and more noxious chemical. My ears began to roar and hints began to seem very far away. My struggles weakened. The guy clamping the rag to my nose leaned down and whispered in my ear. 'Boss been watching you a while stud. Likes what you got cowboy. Gonna milk you good.'

As I slipped mercifully into darkness, I caught a final glance reflected in the windshield of a parked empty car. The huge strongman was picking my now helpless limp body up, one arm under my knees and the second under my broad shoulders. As I was lifted, my head lolled back uselessly, my jaw slack and mouth open, my Adams Apple bobbing uselessly in my throat as I tried to call out for help. My eyes were slits and closing fast. My shirt was open to the waist, just above my buckle, now moving hypnotically as my body moved in time with the strong mans steps.

Mercifully the darkness finally envelopes me...
 
It was the Bosses idea to make The Rat and I work together on this job. Of all the bad bastards to work with, The Rat was the worst. Sick of mind and sick of body. I hate him more than anyone dead or alive.

The target this time was a PBR bull rider - a superstar. He was singlehandedly keeping the current Brazilian invasion from dominating the sport. One if America's last true heroes I think cynically. He was enormously popular and very telegenic. A bright career in politics or TV after retiring from the rodeo circuit.

The cowboy had put up quite a fight, but in the end he had succumbed. I held his limp body close. He's well built, about 5 11, weighs 180 give or take, nothing I can't manage. The Rat opens the back door of the SUV and clambers in. Once in, he turns and reaches out to take the unconscious mans feet in his dirty grasp. He then shimmies over and gradually the bullrider is taken into the back. I reposition myself to take hold of the cowboys barrel chest from the right. At that point, The Rat exits through the other door and gets into the drivers seat. In a fluid movement I myself get in and take the cowboy in the rest of the way. I close the door, careful not to further injure the knocked out man. The Boss was very specific about damaging the goods.

The cowboy is lying face up, prone, across my legs. In the light provided by the reading lights he's a good looking man, in his late twenties. A real winner with the ladies. Powerful fifty inch wide shoulders jut from the top of a V shaped torso tapering to a 35 inch waist. His black Jack Daniels shirt is open - due to a kinky trick The Rat used to get him to breathe in the chloroform. A mat of thick hair, still glistening with sweat from his triumphs and his fight with me, runs from his taut tight pecs to the top of his golden Trophy buckle, where it disappears into tight Wranglers. He still wears his chaps and boots, caked in the mud of the arena. He smells of leather, the sweat of both man and beast, and of the earth. Mighty fine smell. Suits him. His arms feel thick and muscular, and he sports a a large expensive Swiss wrist watch on his left wrist.

He moans slightly and stirs. On the balance I decide to rag him again. In the confined space of the back of the SUV my height and build are a disadvantage if he came too and decided not to see the funny side of being knocked out. I take a bottle of chloroform from my pocket dowse the rag in chloroform and hold tightly over the cowboys nose and mouth. He fights weakly, his left hand swatting ineffectively at me. His eyes flutter briefly and then he sighs. His breathing deepens and becomes regular. I leave the rag in place a few minutes and then feel his carotid for a pulse - strong and steady. In common with many young fit athletes he has a low heart rate - his indicates a supremely fit athlete. I raise my eyes and catch The Rat staring - his eyes feasting on the bullriders prone and helpless body. I meet Rats gaze steadily. To mess with his head, I raise the bullrider up slightly and place my left arm about the cowboys shoulders, like a close friend, and I rest my right hand possessively on his buckle.

'Comfortable ride Rat' I say brightly. Rat scowls at me darkly, staring at my hand resting on the kids enormous buckle - it feel warm to my touch and I can feel every deep breath the bullrider takes. I look again at the cowboys face. You poor straight fuck - you have no idea what this lot have in store for you. I stare out the window as the forests of the north west sail past ...

"Moose, you dumb shit! Snap out of it". I abruptly come out of my daze to hear The Rat's nasal whine. "Cop checkpoint". I hate the nick name Moose - supposedly because I'm supposed to be a big, slow,stupid and angry guy. I ignored Rat. How long had I zoned out? I looked at the cowboy - still way out for the count. I grabbed at his watch - I reckon I'd zoned out for about 25 minutes. Maybe too generous with the chloroform, maybe tired after the capture ...

The SUV slows. Rat was correct - local PD had cruisers strung across the road. Too late to be concerned about the PBR superstar on my lap. I was useless in situations with cops - they can smell my fear. Our SUV was third in line and there were a lot of cops. Rat turned back and caught my fear. "Moose - lock that door and half sit with your back resting against it". For want of a better plan, I complied.
"Haul the stud up too and rest his head against your shoulder."
"Rat what the fuck ...." I started.
"Moose - no time. Remember the penalties for failing the Boss!"
I paled. "OK Rat but ..."
"Outta time Moose ...."
"Ok ok ". I hauled the unconscious man up level with my shoulder and laid his head on it. "Now what". The cops were now two cars away.
"Lay you legs up along the seat and close yer eyes like yer asleep."
I trusted Rat about as far as allowing him drive me to the Bosses house, but that was it.
"Rat.."
"No time Moose" Rat hisses, bestially, shocking me into cooperation. I close my eyes. I feel the cowboy being moved onto his side. His open mouth is thrust against my neck, like he is sucking it or giving me a hickie.
"What the fuck Rat..."
"Moose shut the fuck up and play along. Do you have a better plan? Do you Moose? No. So shut up fucktard!"
Rat grabs my left arm. I shake him off.
"Moose..."
"Ok ok " I resign to his plan.
Rat takes my hand and sticks it under the cowboys belt, into the waist band of his Wranglers.
"Reach in and grab his ass, the cops are almost here".
I blush and swallow furiously, but comply. The cowboy is wearing a jockstrap, his downy ass is smooth and rock hard. I grab a cheek, hard. He moans slighty and whispers 'Cath' against my skin.

Unbidden, my cock stiffens and jumps and to my frustration and shame I know Rat has seen this. I feel the cowboys left hand being placed on my own buckle.
"Enough Rat", I hiss.
"Almost Moose. Just stay quiet and play along". Rat giggled - another awful bestial laugh.
I can hear gravel crunching as the cops approach our SUV and lie still, cradling the hot passed out cowboy like a lover.

Suddenly I feel Rat tug my zip fly open and in a flash, his hand whips out my throbbing cock. He quickly puts the cowboys cool hand on my shaft and sets the unconscious mans fingers to hold the shaft. My cock jumps to the thrill of the cowboys unconscious touch.

Almost simultaneously, the drivers window rolls down automatically and I hear Rat say "Good evening officers". A deep voice answers him. "Good evening Sir, two young girls are missing from one of the local towns and we're conducting a search of vehicles entering and leaving the area." Rat cuts across him. "Are they the girls yer looking for sleeping in the back, Deputy?"

Embarassed, I fought to suppress my grin. For as bad as my embarassment was as being seen in this way, the embarrassed silence that answers Rats question was simply hilarious. As if in cue the cowboy tugged my dick slightly as we settled and I moaned softly. I heard the deep voiced cop mutter an excuse me and walk away.

There was a short silence and then a second voice - a woman's - telling Rat to proceed and have a good evening.

Rat closes the window and we proceed. We each laugh at outwitting the cops. I get comfortable. There's a long drive ahead. It feels comfortable - good- to have the bullrider stay this way, at least a little while longer. I close my eyes ...
 
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