A muscled cowboy gets stripped, bound and violated by a gang of outlaws in this classic bondage story by artist Etienne.
Clay Rawlins leaned his hard-muscled body against the bar and sipped his drink slowly. The gunbelt, slung low over his trim. melon-shaped buttocks, accented the slim hips and powerful sweeping curve of his denim-covered thighs. His well-worn and faded Levis threatened to burst apart, so fully packed were they with his vibrant manhood.
He didn't hear the swinging doors of the saluun open to admit a dozen rough and sweaty cowboys....the dreaded Black Gang, the meanest, toughest outlaws west of Abilene.
Suddenly Clay felt himself seized from behind, and while he was held, struggling and squirming, rough hands ripped the clothes from his body. He cursed and kicked and put up a good battle, but he was outnumbered and soon found himself stripped naked except for his socks and the bandana around his neck.
During the struggle, Bart Black, the burly, leather-gloved leader of the pack, semmed to take particular delight in mandandling the hunky block. In the process of disrobing Clay, the outlaw managed to cop a good many feels of the handsome cowboy's body, tweaking the ripe, rosy nipples, twisting the low-handing, pedulous testicles and squeezing the plump, succulent male sausage.
The The gang of half-drunk outlaws had removed most of their own clothing too, and Clay was uncomforatable aware of their hot, sweaty skin rubbing against his bare body as they held him fast while shredding the clothes off his helpless limbs.
"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" he managed to spit out.
Blake pressed his thick, fleshy horsecock against the bare thigh of the swearing, snarling cowboy.
We gotcha now," he chuckled menacingly, "and we aim to have us a little fun!"
Stripped and bound like some dumb animal being led to slaughter, Clay was hauled over to one of the game tables and forced to drape his firm-muscled body over it, face down. Laughing and joking, the roughneck gang secured his writs to a rope strung from an overhead rafter.
A cold seat broke out on Clay's forehead as he heard Black announce, "Okay you guys....time to ride our little mare. An' seein' as how I'm the leader, I get first crack!"
Clay looked back over his shoulder in time to see Blake advancing toward him, the immense, heavily-weined cock poking out in front of him like some obscene weapon. The dar, fist-thick head of it was drooling slimy strings of pre-cum and the shaft seemed to throb and pulse. The cowboy's eyes widened in horror as he relized what they intended to do to him.
"No....no..." he monaed, "don't....please, not that...no...."
He jerked at his bonds, nearly upsetting the table over which he was draped. The gang merely laughed at his ineffectual thrashings.
"Hey Bart, looks like the pony's a little cock-shy. I don't think he's ever been rode afore."
"Well, it's about time he got a taste of the saddle," Bart laughed, "that ass is too purty to stay unplowed."
A couple of Bart's men grabbed Clay's buttcheeks and spead them apart exposing the virgin hole for their boss.
"Ooooooo-weeeee," one of them exclaimed appreciatively, "lookit that sweet little rosebud, just beggin to be fucked."
Clay tried to clench his butt muscles tight, but the strong hands held the twin, creamy globes wide open. He shut his eyes as Blake hawked up a gob of spit and he cried out as he felt the blob of saliva splatter against the puckered lips of his unprotected hole. Something hard and smooth and slick probed tentatively at the tiny opening, prying the petals apart with an insistent pressure. Then, when the broad tip of the intruder had located the opening, it began the long, inexorable slide up into Clay's rectum.
He began to scream. He was still screaming when Blake's curly pubic hair came to rest against his violated asscheeks, all twelve and a half inches of outlaw dick buried up inside the clutching canal.
Ten minutes of Blake's brutal screwing was all it took to stretch Clay's recum from a tight and narrow passage into a fleshy, sloppy tunnel that easily accommodated the outlaw's spectacular girth. Clay found that, with the widening of his asshole, the pain had somewhat lessened, and though he was ashamed to admit it even to himself, he began to respond pleasureably to the steady sawing of the bulky dick as it plunged in and out of his ravaged butt. The large, blunt head of the pistoning ramrod slammed against his insides, stirring up his guts and rearranging his intestines, but every now and again it would bang into a certain spot that would send a bolt of such intense ecstasy through him that his toes would curl up inside of his socks and his eyes would roll back into his head and he'd come close to passing out.
Unable to stop himself, he heard his own voice begging for more.
"Yeah, yeah...oh...fuck me...fuck me...fuck me...."
Blake snorted derisively at the defeated cowboy's confession of submission. "I knew you'd end up likin' it," he sneered, "they always do. This here dick'll do it everytime."
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