Gene gave Joe that look—the mischievous wink Joe could never resist. “Creek’s right up ahead. Let’s cool off.”
Joe grinned. He never said no to Gene.
They parked the truck and stripped fast—boots, socks, jeans, underwear—until they were both naked as the day they were born. With hollers they dove into the creek, the cold water shocking their overheated bodies. They wrestled, splashed, swung out on the rope tied to the branch and let go midair, laughing like kids.
They didn’t notice the two riders circling the property on horseback.
The ranch hands smirked at the sight of Gene and Joe skinny-dipping, then spotted their clothes tossed in the truck bed. Quietly they rode up, snatched everything—even the shirts in the cab—and slipped the truck keys into a pocket. By the time Gene and Joe climbed out to dry in the sun, only their boots and socks remained.
Joe blinked. “Son of a bitch.”
Gene just grinned, shaking his head. “Looks like we’re walking.”
Joe slid his boots on, naked but for the dust. “If I’ve gotta walk back butt-ass naked in just my boots, then you better fuck me first.”
Gene’s blue eyes darkened, grin spreading. “Brace yourself, cowboy.”
Joe bent over the dented side panel of the truck, boots planted wide, ass sticking out. Gene spat in his hand, slicked his cock, and slammed in. Joe cried out, clinging to the rusted metal as Gene’s hips pistoned hard.
“Whose hole is this?” Gene growled, punctuating the words with a slap to Joe’s ass.
“Yours,” Joe gasped.
“Say it.” Gene pounded harder.
“YOURS!” Joe shouted, voice echoing through the trees.
Gene groaned, slapping his ass again. “That’s right. My cowboy hole.” He fucked him mercilessly, rough and raw, until Joe exploded against the truck, painting the metal with his cum. Gene buried himself deep, shooting his load inside before pulling out, sweat dripping off his chest.
He slapped Joe’s ass one last time. “Ok, cowboy. Let’s start walking.”
Naked but for boots, they made it back to the ranch in the dark. Mr. Harlan was waiting on the porch.
“Where the hell’s my truck—and why the hell are you two naked?”
Joe and Gene stammered out their story, but before they finished, the two riders came out of the barn laughing their asses off, tossing the stolen clothes. The laughter died fast when they saw their boss’s face.
“You two stole their clothes,” Harlan barked. “And you two went skinny-dipping instead of finishing the job? I’ll have the hide of all four of you.”
He yanked his belt free, the leather snapping in the night.
“Line up. Pants off. Every one of you.”
Joe, Gene, and the pranksters stood in a row, boots on, asses bare.
The first crack landed across Joe’s cheeks, a white-hot lash that made him hiss. Gene was next, his body jerking as the belt lit him up. Then the two pranksters, both yelping as the boss swung with no mercy.
Harlan paced behind them, the belt striking in rhythm. “You think this ranch is some kind of playground? You think wasting time is funny?” Crack. “Naked, goofing off, stealing clothes—” Crack. “—acting like damn children.”
Joe groaned with every stripe, his ass on fire, muscles quivering. Gene grunted beside him, biting down on curses as the welts rose. The pranksters couldn’t hold back—they hollered, shifting from foot to foot as the belt carved its marks.
Harlan gave them all more than their share, moving up and down the line, swinging until each of their asses was striped red, welted and burning. He finally threw the belt over his shoulder, chest heaving.
“Now. Get washed up. Supper’s waiting.”
The four stumbled to the bunkhouse showers, stinging from head to toe. Inside, the communal showers steamed, a few hands already scrubbing up. Catcalls echoed as Joe and Gene stepped under the spray, welts glaring. “Boss sure tanned y’all good,” one man teased, chuckling.
Later, in their room, Joe pressed up behind Gene, his hard cock sliding against Gene’s sore ass. He growled low in his ear. “I’m so fucking horny right now.”
Gene turned, swatting his ass hard enough to make Joe’s cock twitch. Precum leaked down the shaft. Gene scooped it with two fingers, licking one clean before pressing the other to Joe’s lips. “Mmm. Dessert’s sweet already. But it’ll have to wait till after supper.”
At dinner, the whole table buzzed. The boss teased his wife about their own skinny-dipping days, turning beet red when she shot back, “Maybe I ought to spank you for spanking my sweet fellas.” The ranch hands roared with laughter, and Mr. Harlan fled to fetch dessert.
But the real dessert came later.
Back in their room, the door barely shut, Gene dropped to his knees, taking Joe’s cock deep in his throat. He bobbed hard, slurping until Joe groaned and grabbed his hair. Joe pulled him up, shoved him onto the bed, and spread his cheeks wide, tonguing his hole until Gene was moaning.
“Fuck me,” Gene begged, eyes wild.
Joe slid in slow, stretching him, fucking him deep and steady. “God, I love your hole,” he whispered, thrusting harder, feeling Gene clench around him. Gene came first, spraying his stomach, moaning loud as Joe pounded him through it. Joe followed, filling him with a hot load before collapsing against his back.
But Gene wasn’t done. He rolled Joe over, straddled him, and sank down on Joe’s cock, riding him rough, sweat flying. “You feel so thick,” he panted, bouncing until Joe’s hands dug into his ass. Joe came again, shuddering, filling him once more before Gene collapsed on top of him.
They flip-flopped through every position they could manage—Gene on his knees with Joe behind him, Joe on his back with Gene riding him, sucking, rimming, gasping—until they were both wrecked, bodies shaking, the sheets soaked with sweat and cum.
Near midnight, Joe finally sagged against Gene, head on his chest, breathing slowing. Gene wrapped his arms tight around him, kissing his hair.
The sting of the belt, the laughter at dinner, the rough play in the dark—all of it faded as Joe drifted into sleep in Gene’s arms.
Next Up: Campfire Confessions
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