Daemon Way

Cody West

Bull Rider by day, Boy Rider by night

A PZA 2010 Summer Sports Story
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Sixteen-year-old Cody inhaled deeply as he settled down onto tornado's back and the bull snorted his anger and defiance. Tornado was an apt name for the animal. Riding him was like riding a tornado. The teenage cowboy had met the drawing of his name with both apprehension and delight, apprehension because he knew the reputation of the bull and the likelihood he wouldn't last the required eight seconds on his back, and delight because the bull earned half the points the judges awarded and Tornado never disappointed when it came to giving a cowboy a good ride.

Laying the tail of the bull rope over the handle and tightly wrapping it around his gloved fingers once, a practice he'd learned from a former junior world champion, and gripping the sweating body of the animal with his legs and knees, Cody inserted his mouth guard, inhaled deeply and nodded. Most riders took too long to make sure they were comfortable and everything was just right. That just gave Tornado more time to build up steam and the longer one took the sooner he was thrown. He knew. He'd studied Tornado's behaviour and knew his every quirk and trick, like a good bull rider should. The gate opened and Tornado shot out straight up into the air with all four feet off the ground and landed with a bone-jarring thud on his hind legs. Cody had expected that and had raised himself off the bull's back, taking the shock with his legs. Keeping his left hand high in the air, he dug his blunted bull spurs into the bull's ribs. Tornado responded by kicking back with his hind legs and raising his rump, trying to throw Cody over his head. Another spur jab and he spun around to the right, wrenching Cody's body around with him, and then just as quickly flipping to the left. Cody allowed himself to be flipped, matching his movements with the bull's, keeping a constant rhythm, always in control.

Tornado was one-and-three-quarter tons [1,500 kg] of rippling muscle, not the largest bull in the amateur circuit but the most ornery and the most powerful. Bull snot and spit whipped through the air as he twisted his head, trying to gore the hundred-and-thirty-five pound irritation on his back but Cody kept his body far from those threatening horns. The horn blew and as Tornado spun to the left Cody released his grip and let the momentum throw him into the air. Landing on all fours, he scrambled to his feet and raced for the fence, Tornado's hooves pounding the dirt behind him and his stinking breath blowing hot against his back. It wasn't exactly dignified but when you're dismounting from an angry bull the last thing you're concerned about is your dignity. The crowd was cheering wildly, and when the announcer announced his score, eighty-three, they went even wilder. With many riders disqualified and even more not making the time, he was well into the lead.

Pulling off his gloves, he rubbed his right wrist gingerly. Tornado had tested its flexibility to the fullest but he had strong wrists and extra-long-fingered gloves, making them less likely to get caught up in the rope or get pulled off. He acknowledged the congratulations of his fellow competitors and the men working the chutes with a nod and a grin. That was what bull riding was all about, the admiration and respect of one's peers who were aware of the skill and strength it took to last those eight seconds on a bull's back, the thrill of hearing the crowd cheering, the rush of facing real life-threatening danger, the challenge of pitting a man's strength against that of a bull, and most of all, the exhilaration of doing so successfully and better than one's fellow competitors. In the five years he'd competed in amateur rodeo, the last two being at the High School level, he'd fractured his left arm, pulled his right out of its socket, sprained his right wrist twice, and had fractured three ribs. It was worth it. That was what bull riding was all about too. He'd often been asked why he rode bulls. Anybody who wasn't a cowboy, or at least from the country, wouldn't understand. Why does a football player play football or a race car driver race cars? It was for the thrill of the sport, for the sense of achievement and the pride that comes from knowing you are one of the best.

You could see Cody's pride and confidence in his eyes, and in his walk. When Cody West made an appearance, people noticed. As he sauntered down the midway, he was very much aware of the stares. He was darkly handsome with jet black hair, rich, dark-brown eyes the colour of burnt almond with a natural narrowness that gave one the impression he was harbouring some dirty thought, a blue-black six-o'clock shadow darkening his upper lip and his jaw, and skin darkly tanned by the sun. He was slight, five-foot-six [1.65 m], with a narrow waist, but make no question about it, that slim frame was compact and all muscle. His tooled, black leather boots, silver-trimmed black shirt and Stetson, and tight black jeans accenting his compact butt and his package added to his dark sultriness. Yes, Cody West dressed and acted the part right down to his silver 2009 championship buckle and took just as much delight in the appreciative appraisal by the fair sex and the blatant envy of his lessors as he did in the cheers of the crowd.

The girl eyeing him at the moment was a good example. She looked to be about fourteen, low-cut blouse revealing a nice-sized pair of boobs for a girl her age, tight city-slicker blue jeans showing off her thighs and her butt, a look in her eyes that clearly indicated she was wondering what sort of kisser he was, maybe even what he was like in bed. Her straw cowboy hat and decorative red-and-white checkered handkerchief about her neck identified her as a weekend-cowgirl. Her boyfriend, who looked to be about a year older, was just as fake. He looked muscular enough, probably into school sports, soccer or basketball, but his western duds were definitely for show. Unlike his girlfriend, the look he was giving Cody was far from friendly.

"What you think you're looking at?"

Cody continued walking. He had no desire for a confrontation. "What's the matter? You got manure in your years, hayseed?"

Cody stopped. There are some things a man can't ignore.

"I seen the look you gave my girl." Cody glanced at her. She was embarrassed, but pleased her boyfriend was jealous.

"I don't want a fight."

"Chicken?"

"I don't fight without a reason."

The boy gave Cody a shove. "How's that for a reason?" he asked cockily.

"I also don't fight unless there's something in it for me."

"Beat me and she's yours."

"You offering your girl as a prize?" Cody asked with a hint of bemusement. Neither the girl nor her boyfriend had seen his challenge that way and were not amused by Cody's interpretation. "And what do you get if you win?" he asked before the boy could respond.

The boy looked at him in confusion. "That fancy buckle of yours," he replied, having to say something.

"Problem is, I don't want your girl."

Now both the girl and her boyfriend were offended. "You are a chicken shit."

"I'd rather your ass."

"My ass?" the boy snorted in surprise.

"You win I give you my championship buckle. I win, you drop your pants and bend over."

"You a fucking faggot?"

"That a problem?"

"Just gives me all the more reason to beat the crap out of you."

"Let's go somewhere private," Cody said, turning and heading for the exit to the midway, forcing the boy to follow. "You might want your girl and friends to wait here. You could find this embarrassing."

"What you're gonna find embarrassing is having me kick your ass in front of them."

Cody shrugged. He'd hoped that would be the response. He liked an audience. He lead them around behind the horse barns. Someone had recently mucked out one of the stalls. Perfect.

"This place stinks," the boy observed. "Almost as bad as you. This where you sleep?"

"No. This is where I fuck punks like you."

The boy stepped forward angrily and took a swing. Cody easily ducked and gave him a light jab to the ribs. He didn't want to hurt the boy, just make him angry. The boy was a bully and relied on his size and his bluster. Cody knew. He'd dealt with bullies like this before.

"Stay still and fight like a man, damn you. You dance around like a fairy," the boy snarled angrily.

Cody refused to get angry, which infuriated the boy all the more. He swung wildly and Cody slapped his ass. He twisted around and punched but Cody had moved and slapped his other cheek. It was evident Cody was playing with him which got him all the angrier and all the more reckless. He charged, like a mad bull, panting for breath as he used up his energy. Cody knew the behaviour. Cody spun him around, pinned his legs together with his muscular thighs, and deftly unbuckled his belt. Breaking loose, the boy hesitated as he considered if he should redo his buckle. Cody spun him around again and pulled down the boy's fly and unbuttoned the top of his jeans. The boy jabbed him hard in the ribs with his elbow. He spun around and his fist connected with Cody's jaw, but the boy was getting tired and the blow was nothing compared to being kicked by a bull. The boy tired to hike up his sagging jeans but Cody slapped his hands away.

He teased the boy for another minute, and then giving him a kidney chop that knocked him to his knees, he leaped on the boy's back, knocking him to the ground. The boy tried to throw him off but a hundred-and-fifty-pound [70 kg] boy was no match for a boy accustomed to riding fifteen-hundred-pound [700 kg] bulls. The boy's trousers already being halfway down his thighs, Cody easily pushed the boy's boxers down to join them and pushed both down past his knees, pinning his legs together. He gave the boy's exposed buttocks several resounding slaps, more for shock effect than anything else, though the feel of a hot ass between his thighs did turn him on. The boy cursed and called him every filthy name he could think of in his anger and frustration, but the boy's vulgarity and anger only further aroused the teenage bull rider. He spat several times and as his thick slime oozed down between the boy's ass cheeks Cody pulled them part and jabbed a finger at his sphincter. As the boy winked it open and closed in pain Cody spat again, his gob joining the rest of his spit as it oozed into the boy's abused hole. The boy's girl and friends of both sexes stood there, wild-eyed and immobilized by surprise.

Unsnapping the top of his jeans and pulling down his fly, Cody spread open his pants and pushed his boxers down and hooked them under his balls. Fighting the boy and anticipating fucking his ass in front of his girl and his friends had gotten Cody rock hard and he noted the looks of embarrassment and of admiration on the faces of his audience. Cody West was well hung. Sitting on the boy's legs, he slapped his bare ass several times as hard as he could and then placing the knob of his cock against the boy's spit-slickened hole, he raised up off his legs. Feeling what was obviously his attacker's cock pressing against his hole and the sudden slackening of weight on his legs, the boy did what any boy would do under the circumstances, he raised his body and pushed back in a desperate attempt to buck his rapist off.

What that did was drive Cody's slender, rock-hard cock up the boy's virgin asshole. As the boy realized what had happened, he sank back down and Cody followed, driving his cock the rest of the way up the boy's rectum. This was not Cody's first ride. He knew every quirk and trick of his quarry like a good boy-rider should. Yanking the boy's shirt up, he reached under his body and tweaked his nipples, causing the boy to twist and jerk. Being pinned down by Cody's vicelike thighs that were accustomed to squeezing the thrashing body of a one-and-a-half ton bull, the boy didn't have a chance as he tried desperately to dislodge his rapist. Cody continued to pinch and twist the boy's irritated nipples as he eased his cock back until the knob was about to slip out of the boy's hole and he again lifted his weight off the boy's body.

Figuring his struggles had loosened his attacker's grip on him, the boy thrust upward, succeeding only in impaling himself on Cody's stiff, throbbing cock again. Feeling it penetrate deep up his rectum, the boy sank back down, driving his exposed loins into the warm muck behind the stables but unable to sink low enough to pull himself off the prick intruding up his asshole.

"That's it, give me a good ride," Cody whispered in his ear as he bent over him. "Let's show your girl what a good fuck you are. Maybe when we're done you can watch while I use her like I'm using you."

The boy flushed red with embarrassment and anger and struggled all the harder and Cody whooped as he raised himself and threw his left arm in the air as if riding a bull. The boy twisted and bucked furiously, snorting and grunting just like Tornado had. The boy inhaled deeply and the rank, fetid stench of wet hay and horse piss and manure filled his lungs. He thrust his body against the warm muck, driving his pubes and penis into the mush. Cody bent over him again, his mouth at his ear.

"Feels good, don't it? My cock up your ass. Bet you're even tighter and hotter than your girl's cunt, though I don't suppose she's let a loser like you make out. One thing's for sure, she's definitely not going to after seeing you used like a girl."

The boy opened his mouth to retort but Cody shoved his face in the muck before he could holding his head down so the boy couldn't breathe, causing him to thrust his backside up and draw it back down in a desperate attempt to get loose.

"That's it, buck your ass and show us how much you're enjoying your fuck," Cody observed loud enough for the boy's girl and friends to hear. Of course the boy stopped which implied he had been enjoying it. The humiliation cut deeper than the pain searing his asshole.

As he let the boy's head up, the boy snorted and spit just like Tornado had, his face smeared with piss-soaked muck and maure. Reaching down under the boy, Cody squeezed his muck-coated dick and whispered how it was getting hard, proof he must like fucking barnyard muck and getting raped. He whispered how warm and wet the manure muck felt, like his girl's cunt, and how hot he must feel having a man's cock up his ass. Cody's words, the warm muck oozing about his cock and between his balls and his legs, Cody's hot, stiff cock throbbing up his rectum, the stench of manure filling his lungs, and the taste of horseshit in his mouth, the boy never felt so filthy in all his life and despite it all, or perhaps because of it, he felt his cock begin stiffening. The more he fought it happening the stiffer it got.

His body was pinned between Cody's naked, muscular thighs. He could smell the bull rider's sour sweat, and could feel his own running down his ribs. Hearing his attacker panting as he rode him, he knew he was about to cum. He caught the look on the faces of his friends and his girl and looked away in humiliation. Embarrassed for him yet fascinated, frightened yet aroused by his brutal rape, they didn't know what to do so stood and watched.

Knowing that, Cody grunted and arched his back as he filled the boy's rectum and relished the last eight seconds of ultimate pleasure. Getting off him and pulling up his underwear and jeans, Cody sauntered away, leaving the boy there sprawled in the muck, too ashamed to get up, too embarrassed to look his girl and friends in the eye. Two fantastic rides in one day. What a fucking rush! Cody headed for the corn dog vender.

The End