It was late afternoon. The hot New Mexico sun beat down upon the bitter wind-blown abyss of dust and stone. Black, scrubby pinons stood in stark contrast to the red sandstone ground and vivid blue sky. Brett had admired the enchanting beauty as it rolled by and lulled him to sleep after hours of travel. Now as the Vaquero Ranch finally came into view, Brett found himself hypnotized once again by the picturesque high desert setting.
The ranch was set on a gently sloping mesa. Its dazzling white bricks shone out from the endless red sand like a beacon, and its old Spanish style was instantly impressive.
Alden chuckled. Brett was drooling again, dumbstruck by the sight of the approaching farm. “Hey!” Alden snapped his fingers. “Wake up! We are here on business, remember?”
Brett nodded, working the crick out of his neck. “Right. Suit delivery and fittings.”
His cock stiffened to attention as he thought about the clients. He’d met them several months ago when he was debuting as a leather show horse. Eight hunky Latino cowboys and their boss had spent the show fawning over him before submitting a custom order for leather bull suits. It was one of the biggest orders they’d ever had, and now Alden and Brett had come to deliver the order in person.
The van was greeted at the wrought iron gate by a muscular handsome cowboy, Brett recognized as Miguel. Miguel seemed to be in his Sunday best, and he smiled showing his gold tooth as he pulled the heavy gate shut behind them.
“Hola! Bienvenidos!” The boss, ‘Honcho’ as Brett called him, greeted them at the front door. He wore a crisp gull-gray linen suit, spotless white boots, and big silver wristwatch. Unlike Miguel and the others, Honcho wore a Spanish-style cowboy hat rather than the more familiar American Western style.
“Welcome to my ranch!” Honcho said with a heavy Spanish accent, gesturing around the white marble-tiled courtyard. “Come, you must be tired after your long travels. Miguel will see to your vehicle.” He led Alden and Brett into the main house, giving a brief tour, and showing them to their room.
“Thank you for coming all this way for us. The others are still out working for the day, but I assure you we are very happy to have you as our guests. Please relax, and if you need anything Miguel and I are here!”
Brett flopped down on the bed. “Wow, this place is incredible. I hate to be taking a nap…” He yawned. Alden looked over as he unpacked their suitcase.
“You’re cute when you’re tired,” he winked. “Come on, at least go for a light run, stretch well, maybe have a snack.”
Brett yawned and sat up. “Yeah, I should…” He made his way to the door, rolling his shoulders.
“Giddy up!” Alden flicked Brett’s ass with a rolled-up t-shirt. “Atta boy.”
“Humph!” Brett rolled his eyes with a smile, strutting into the hall and flexing his glutes.
He made his way back out to the courtyard and jogged along the adobe wall for a couple minutes.
It must have been the altitude. Or perhaps the lack of humidity. Brett felt very tired very quickly. He leaned against a shady section of the wall breathing heavily. Swinging his arms, he gazed across the mesa and the desert beyond. The sky was crystal clear, and an unbelievable shade of blue. The air filling Brett’s nose was equally clear and clean.
Crisp. The word came to Brett’s mind. Settling between the neurons and seemingly the most accurate description of the environment. Yeah, ‘crisp.’
After a several minute pause, Brett resumed his jog. He took an easier pace than before, wary of the altitude and deceptive dryness.
“At least I won’t be a sweaty mess,” Brett thought.
The adobe wall seemed to go on forever, circling the entirety of the large property. Only a few padlocked metal gates interrupted the faded mud wall. With the sun directly overhead though, the tall wall did not provide any shade.
Brett decided to turn around and head back toward the house. This time, he could see several smaller houses and sheds scattered over the area. In the distance, he could see a cloud of dust and a couple motorized vehicles.
“Must be the cowboys,” Brett felt his cock spring to attention. “Out there working hard on whatever they do here… Heh. Hard on.” Brett adjusted himself and continued his jog. His hard cock thumping heavily with every stride. It eventually subsided as Brett began to feel winded again. He slowed for a moment to catch his breath. He kicked lightly at the dry red dirt, noticing for the first time the scraggly little chili plants that grew everywhere as weeds.
Up ahead was what looked like the main house. Brett saw Miguel and a few of the other men carrying cases into what appeared to be a stable. Alden and Honcho stepped in and out of sight, talking and overseeing something. Brett walked the rest of the way.
“Ah babe!” Alden called to him.
“Hey, what’s uhhh… What’s going on?” Brett asked, still slightly out of breath.
“Well the guys were really excited about the new stuff and just couldn’t wait,” Alden explained. “They’re super handy. They’ve got most of the machinery installed, and the first few even got their suits on for a spin! Come take a look.”
Alden and Brett walked into a cacophony of loud grunting, moaning, and metallic slamming. The air was thick with musk, leather, and sweat. Lined up in two rows of four were eight wooden stalls, though only two were occupied. The two bulls were strapped to their benches, gagged with large ball gags Brett recognized as the scented and flavored ones the company had included. Each bull had a milking tube strapped in place over his cock, and a large electro probe up his butt.
Alden and Honcho went to inspect the machine pumps, leaving Brett to inspect the suits. He approached the first bull, “Philip,” petting him gently on the shoulders. Philip mooed a low greeting, looking up curiously.
“Shhhhh, easy,” Brett soothed. He ran his hand over Philip’s back, this was the first time he’d actually looked at the suit up close. The leather was thick and had many of the same construction features as Brett’s stallion suit. A zipper up the spine, hidden by a velcro strip, served as the entry. Stretch seams at the joints and flex points allowed the thick leather to maintain a skin-tight fit without sacrificing mobility or flexibility. Not that the bull needed that when he’s strapped down, Brett thought. He caressed the back and sides of this bull suit noting its fit, and the restraint system.
The milking bench was well-padded for hours of comfort. Philip was strapped to it with wide locking nylon straps at the waist, middle, and shoulders. His arms were strapped to the rests, held at a 90-degree angle, with the legs secured in a similar fashion, keeping him in a classic, all-fours position. The hands and feet were covered by hoof-shaped leather mitts, locked in place by hidden zippers.
Last but not least, was the hood. It was a magnificent work of craftsmanship and design, covering the head with thick dark brown leather. It left only the chin, mouth, and nose uncovered, allowing for easy access for a gag, or feeding. The area over the brow was stylized to look more animalistic, and the top of the head featured leather ears, and a fine set of horns made of a soft engineered plastic.
Brett was proud of Alden for the horns. Each set was unique, and could be replaced if needed. They could be filed and shaped, and despite their imposing appearance were not very heavy. Philip wore a bridle that connected his gag to the base of his horns, limiting his head movement.
“MMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo…!” Philip whined, drool splashing down his chin.
Brett gave the bull’s head a reassuring pat. Philip nuzzled his hand, soaking it with slobber. A soft clinking sound accompanied Philip’s head movements, from a large square bell attached to the front of his wide leather collar. Brett smiled, wiping his hand on a towel hanging by the bench.
“Bueno,” Brett petted the bull again, dodging the ropes of spit dangling from Philip’s chin.
“Mmmmmmmm…” He whined again. Brett noticed the milking tube was set on a moderately slow pace. The machine had an edging phase it entered as part of its milking program. This ‘standby phase’ was also used post-climax every three orgasms to help the bull recover and get ready for more.
Philip’s cock was not sheathed in leather. His cock hung free from the suit, and upon closer inspection, there was an opening in the suit, an elasticised ring through which his package was exposed, keeping him hard and on display. Unlike his cock though, the bull’s nutsack was encased in leather. This leather pouch was skin-tight too, padded, and weighted.
Philip had a voluptuous, muscular rear. Another elasticised opening allowed for the insertion of a probe, any sized dildo, plug, or cock, as well as the toy’s secure retention. All of the toys and probes the shop had provided had a grooved flange at the base for the elastic ring to snap into. A show tail hung to the side of the large probe, which was connected to a long cable running up the rafters.
The other bull was similarly outfitted, but his suit had a cream belly and his horns were a little thicker than Philip’s.
Brett looked over to the opposite row of stalls, where Miguel and two other cowboys were helping each other into their suits. Miguel had fastened the other two into their hoof mitts, and was now fitting the hood onto one of them. His muscular body accentuated by the skin-tight dark brown leather, his tail hanging between his beefy glutes. Brett could see his impressive back and lats as he held the hood up for the as yet-unhooded bull. Brett’s cock was throbbing.
Miguel made short work of getting his fellow cowboys in their suits. He nodded approvingly as they flexed and posed in their new leather bull outfits. All three of them were hard from the built-in elasticized cock rings, their fat cocks veiny and pulsing.
“¡Bueno, bueno!” Miguel purred as he ran his hand over one of the other’s shoulders and back. He fiddled with the back zipper for a moment, installing a padlock before tucking it under the velcro flap, concealing it from view. “Bueno…”
Miguel beckoned toward two facing benches. The bulls eagerly climbed into place on the padded benches, and Miguel strapped them down one at a time. They conversed in hushed, excited whispers.
Brett’s Spanish was still very poor, he didn’t know what the bulls were saying. But Miguel smiled, revealing his gold tooth.
“Si, si. Si, el toro,” Miguel answered. He tightened the straps, and then his head ducked out of sight. He soon reappeared, and flipped an overhead switch. The milking tubes whirred to life. Brett could tell it was the low “teasing” setting. Miguel strapped the red apple-flavored ball gags into each of their mouths. The two bulls moaned happily as Miguel patted their butts and turned to leave. He stepped back to where his own clothes lay on a bench next to a box with his name on it. Miguel picked up his own hood and pulled it over his head, a broad smile on his face.
Brett stepped up to help him with the fasteners.
“¡Ah, gracias amigo!” Miguel chortled as the hood was strapped snugly in place. Brett threaded the collar through interlocking loops between the overlap sections joining the hood to the body of the suit. Feeling horny and confident that Miguel would approve, Brett also installed the padlocks on every zipper. Miguel didn’t seem to notice, as he was feeling his new head, ears, horns. His thick uncut cock bounced and throbbed, drooling down its length a thin clear trail.
“Ah, uno mas,” Brett said tentatively. Miguel cocked his head curiously. Brett reached into the box and held up the hoof mitts.
“Aha. ¡Sí señor!” Miguel nodded and held his hands out for Brett to install the mitts. Like with the hood-body connection, the mitts overlapped with the sleeves at the wrists, and a strap was threaded through interlocking loops. Not only was this very secure, but it also allowed a comfortable, seamless feel for the wearer. Leather provided support, while elasticized flex material allowed for motion of the joint. Brett finished by padlocking the strap and tucking it under the velcro flap.
“How does it…” Brett started. “Uhhhm, como say…?” Fuck it, he had no idea what he was saying. He patted Miguel’s bicep. “¿Bueno?”
Miguel beamed. “¡Bueno!” He lowered his mitted hands, running them down Brett’s slim frame. “Y muy guapo…” He purred lustfully, his gold tooth glinting seductively. Brett gulped at the hungry look in Miguel’s eyes. This bull wanted to breed!
“Well everything seems to be in working order, why don’t…” Alden trailed off as he approached Brett and Miguel. He smirked. “…I just let you guys have fun with your new toys.” Alden nodded at Miguel, who smiled even wider. “But first…” Alden stepped up next to Miguel, and whispered something in his ear. Miguel snorted like the impatient bull he was, but he seemed to relent.
“What did-” Brett began.
“I just saved your ass,” Alden giggled in his ear. “For now at least.”
“Oh. Thanks babe.”
Alden smirked. “Don’t thank me yet, stud. I promised your ass to him if he wins tonight’s bullfight. You’ve got a 50/50 chance…”
Brett’s eyes widened.
“…Which is why he’s elected to stay horny. It’ll help him fight better.”
“Don’t look so dour,” Alden put his arm around Brett, gently guiding him out of the stable. “You look tired. Why don’t we go rest for a little bit. And then we can enjoy the entertainment, hmm?”
Brett dozed most of the afternoon. Honcho offered a light snack of almond stuffed chili peppers and cheese with some wine around 4pm. By then, the ranchers out on the mesa had returned and gotten to try on their suits. The other bulls had enjoyed several hours of machine teasing, and were horny as all hell. Aside from Brett, Alden, and Honcho, all the men were in their bull suits. Six of the eight bulls were also gagged, helpless with their hands secured in their mitts. Miguel stomped around, cockily teasing everyone, his fat dick hard and eager to fuck. His suit hugged and accentuated his muscular body as if it was painted on.
Honcho announced something to the men that made them all cheer.
“Showtime,” Alden smiled toothily. “Come on, stud.”
Brett followed Alden outside to a patch of dirt surrounded by a low wall. Honcho had seated himself in a tall chair, a cigar in one hand, and a glass of red wine in the other.
Miguel stood in the center, brandishing a red cape. His hood and mitts had been removed. The two bulls Brett had seen Miguel suit up with earlier waited by the wall, their limbs were restrained like a bitchsuit, forcing them to stay on all fours. They were both sporting hard, angry-looking cocks, almost as red as the gags still strapped in their drooling mouths.
“As the current champion, Miguel is the matador,” Alden explained.
“What exactly is the goal of this… Game?” Brett asked.
“Well from what I can tell, these beginning rounds are just the bulls trying to tackle the matador. Obviously, it’s difficult for them, but I heard it’s not impossible. Mostly it just wears the bulls out until only a few are left. Then they basically just charge at each other, wrestle, and the winner fights the matador. Then the winner becomes the matador for the next fight.”
“Totally. This is what these guys do for fun around here…” Alden rolled his shoulders, adjusting himself as he perched on the wall.
“¡Olé!” Miguel shouted, swinging the cape. The first bull lumbered into the ring, clumsily treading on his knees and elbows. He glared at Miguel, snorting through his nose. Miguel fluttered the cape tauntingly, with a jeer. The bull charged, leaving twin trails of spit and pre behind him. Miguel dodged him only too easily. He swatted the bull’s left glute with a corner of the cape as he stampeded by.
“RRRGHH!!” The bull’s roar was muffled by his gag, but the anger was clear as day. The bull turned around awkwardly, shooting daggers at Miguel with his eyes. He huffed frothily, fighting the gag for a moment before charging again. His hefty cock was red from the hours of mechanical edging and looked hard enough to cut stone. It bounced heavily against his body, leaking pre like a broken faucet. This charge was closer than the first, but was still a miss and was rewarded with another lash of the cape, this one on the bull’s other glute.
Miguel looked like he was dancing, every move fluid and graceful. The bright red cape popping nicely against his dark suit. His cock was hard and leaking just as much as the bull’s, though wasn’t as red and irritated from being edged all afternoon.
The distance was closing between the matador and bull; each charge was shorter, and the bull was now getting a solid hand slap across his glutes. The bull wasn’t looking tired yet, just angrier and hornier. Drooling and sweating, the bull was looking increasingly feral and rabid, leaving glistening snail trails criss-crossing the ground.
“GRRRRRGH!” Another miss. Another condescending swat on the ass.
“¡Olé!” Miguel called to the other bull, who charged right in. Even with two bulls in the ring, it was clear to Brett that Miguel would dodge them with little effort. So far the playful matador hadn’t even broken a sweat.
It took a while, but the bulls finally tired. The second bull went out first. He charged slower and less frequently, taking more time to recover until he collapsed. Miguel stepped up, placing a boot on the defeated bull’s back and looked to Honcho. Honcho nodded his cigar. Miguel patted the exhausted bull’s head then he and the other bull helped him to the side, where the losing bull was unceremoniously fitted with a brass chastity cage. Both bulls were then ungagged and the victorious bull given a seat to Honcho’s right, and allowed a small glass of wine.
Miguel returned to the center of the ring, and with a chesty “¡Olé!” a new round started with two new bulls.
“So… This is just the warm-up round?” Brett whispered to Alden.
“Wow. That must be exhausting…” Brett trailed off as he looked at the losing bull from the first round. “It must be a thousand degrees in those suits too.”
“You know it,” Alden smirked. “We should have brought your suit. For fun.”
Brett felt something bump against his leg.
“Mmmmmmughhh!!” It was Philip, the drooly bull Brett had met earlier!
“Oh hey there big guy!” Brett patted Philip’s head. “I mean.. Hola… Uh… Grande…”
Alden chuckled at Brett’s flustering.
Brett ignored him. He knew his Spanish was still bad. He hopped off the wall, and knelt so he could pet Philip. Philip’s eyes twinkled happily at Brett’s touch. The muscular bull leaned heavily against Brett, his big cock twitching needily. Brett could see a plug had been fastened in Philip’s thick round ass. He groped Philip’s muscular rump.
“I bet you’re horny as fuck,” Brett mused as he ran his hand up the bull’s back to massage his broad back and shoulders.
They watched the bulls in the ring charge at Miguel. Unlike the first pair, this pair seemed to coordinate their attacks. Miguel was still dodging them with no trouble, but he had fewer directions in which to jump away.
Philip turned his head and carefully nuzzled Brett’s arm, mindful of his horns. His copiously drooling mouth soaked Brett’s arm immediately.
“Heh,” Brett wiped his slobbery arm clean against Philip’s side. “Drooly bull. You like that flavored gag, huh?”
Philip nuzzled Brett’s arm again, seemingly oblivious to the slimy mess he was making. The bell around his neck clinked softly with every movement.
Brett just wiped the drool on Philip’s side again with a good-natured chuckle.
Philip huffed, insistently pushing his gagged dripping mouth against Brett’s shoulder.
“Oh alright, you messy fuck,” Brett resigned to having a wet arm for the rest of the match.
“Mmmm…” Philip moo’d happily, and nuzzled into Brett’s armpit.
“I guess big bulls like to cuddle too,” Brett shrugged up at Alden, who was watching them with an amused smirk. Alden gently nudged the plug in Philip’s ass with his toe. Philip moaned loudly, his cock spat a burst of pre.
“He’ll be up soon,” Alden motioned to the fight in the ring. “Don’t let him get too cozy.”
The match! Brett had completely forgotten! The bulls in the ring were definitely slower now, their hulking forms heaving with labored breath. Their double teamed attacks had allowed them to save some energy, making the match go on much longer than the first one. But with their heavy suits and big gags, their endurance could only last for so long. The bulls charged toward Miguel, huffing loudly, their muscles bulging through their suits. They missed narrowly, Miguel slapping their butts simultaneously. One of the bulls collapsed as soon as the charge ended. The round was over.
“MMPH.” Philip grunted.
“Yeah, yeah…” Brett caressed Philip’s neck. “You ready?”
“HMMMPH.” Philip stomped the ground.
Brett smirked as he reached down and gave Philip’s big nuts a squeeze.
“MMMMPH!!” Philip reared his head, drool flying from his chin. He stomped again in frustration. “MMMMMPH!”
Brett kept his grip on the bull’s hefty balls while Miguel and Honcho acknowledged the winner of the second round, and the bulls were ungagged. Once again, the loser was quietly locked in a small brass chastity cage, too exhausted to protest. Miguel took a moment before he stepped back into the ring.
“MMMPH.” Philip snorted.
Brett gave the bull’s cock a long gentle stroke.
“¡Olé!” Miguel shouted with a flourish of the cape.
At that, Brett released Philip’s balls and gave them a good swat. Philip charged into the ring, wild-eyed and frothing at the mouth. He and the other bull missed Miguel, of course, and now stood at opposite sides.
Even from across the ring, Brett could see Philip’s body flex and shudder with his ragged breath. Cock twitching. Eyes switching from Brett to Miguel, his rage building with each passing glance.
“HUMMMPHH!!” Philip roared as he suddenly rushed forward. The other bull took off as well, as if he was on a spring. Miguel twirled the cape, pivoting in place as the two bulls raced toward him.
“¡Olé, olé!” Miguel taunted.
Philip turned slightly, the matador lined up between his horns.
The red cape flashed around Miguel’s midsection, the target of both charging bulls.
The distance closed fast. Miguel skipped out of the converging path of the two angry, horny bulls in the last possible split second and-
Crash! Philip and his opponent had smashed head-first into each other!
Alden, Brett, and Honcho leapt to their feet.
“Fuck!” Brett exclaimed.
Miguel knelt, whispering gently in Spanish. His hand was raised to Honcho.
Philip slowly got to his feet first. He let out a whine. The other bull staggered up, keeping his head down.
The bulls were clearly dazed. Their horns were broken at the midpoint. Philip nodded something to Miguel, several splashes of drool spilling out around his gag. He seemed to be ok! The other bull’s gag had come loose, it hung from the intact base of his left horn.
Miguel smiled and stood back up, looking to Honcho.
Honcho waved his hand.
Miguel nodded and announced something loudly in Spanish.
“Philip wins the round for getting back up first, but won’t compete any further. Going to be a short break,” Alden translated to Brett. “Then we’ll continue in 15 minutes.”
Philip wandered up, nuzzling Brett’s thigh wetly.
“You!” Brett scolded. “You…”
“Need some new horns, my drooly friend,” Alden knelt by Philip, flicking his nose playfully before removing his gag. He beckoned the other bull over, who was now sporting a tight brass cock cage of his own, and talked to them both in Spanish. He finally patted their shoulders, and the bulls lumbered off together leaving twin trails of thick glistening pre behind them.
“What…?” Brett began.
“Oh they’re fine. The hoods have a bunch of thick leather padding to protect them from any real injury. Glad to see they work as designed…” Alden nodded to himself. “Though I didn’t think we’d need new horns so quickly.”
“What? Oh. Good.”
Back in the ring, the two previously winning bulls were getting themselves pumped for the next round. Their already-hard cocks were gently teased by their respective losing companions. Miguel eventually stood from the seat he’d taken, and walked the two bulls out into the center. For this round, the bulls were left ungagged.
Miguel addressed everyone again in Spanish; Brett leaned toward Alden for translation.
“Since Philip won’t be competing anymore, whoever wins this round will be the finalist.”
Brett nodded. He wrapped his arm around Alden, letting his hand rest above Alden’s tailbone.
Miguel stepped out of the ring, clapping his hands twice to signal the start. Immediately the two bulls tackled each other and began a long round of wrestling. Unlike with typical lycra or spandex, the dark leather suits did not show any progression of the wrestler’s sweating; even the bulging muscle strains weren’t as easy to spot. It really wasn’t much to watch, but Brett still enjoyed the ever-louder grunts of exertion from the evenly matched pair. He groped Alden’s side, shifting to alleviate the tightness in his own pants.
“Easy boy,” Alden whispered. “You’ll need it if you’re going to enjoy being Miguel’s victory fuck.”
“Mmmmfff…” Brett bit his lip, looking warily toward Miguel who was very clearly enjoying the wrestling. His big dick swayed heavily.
“Dude is BUILT,” Alden hissed in Brett’s ear. “Everything about him is huge… I hope you can take him. He will not take it slow…”
“Quiet down now, boy,” Brett said softly. “Or I’ll get your muzzle and you’ll stay on your leash.”
“Heh,” Alden squeezed Brett’s thigh. “I love it when you talk that way. But for that-” Alden gestured toward Miguel, “you’re the one that might need a muzzle and leash.”
Brett playfully grabbed the back of Alden’s neck and shoved his face into his armpit, holding him there with a headlock.
“Mmmmmmm…” Alden hummed happily, making no efforts to resist.
“I said quiet, boy.” Brett flexed his chest slightly. “No more speculation for you.”
“Hmmff.” Alden nuzzled in reply. He reached his arms around Brett’s waist and gave him a tight squeeze.
Brett didn’t let up. Instead, he just watched the rest of the match. Quietly enjoying his partner’s muted sniffles and nuzzles.
The bulls wrestled for a long time. The sun was beginning to set, lighting the sky ablaze with vivid red and gold. Finally, there was a winner. Grunting with horny masculine energy, the victorious bull set his eye on Miguel, clearly eager for the final round.
Miguel now had his legs folded at the knee and strapped in place like the other bulls. His hood was replaced, adjusted, and his boner refluffed. The two finalists kept their eyes locked on each other. They exchanged taunts, goading each other on in teasing voices, but Brett didn’t understand what exactly was being said.
As a final touch, Miguel and his opponent were gagged with bright orange gags.
“HMMMMPHH!!” Both bulls went wide-eyed and immediately began salivating heavily. Brett chuckled, remembering Alden making these special chili pepper ball gags. They had a high amount of aphrodisiac as well as heat.
Matching plugs were also inserted up the bulls’ butts, eliciting immediate spirited responses. Miguel bucked in place, huffing in angry lust, while his fluids leaked from his mouth and cock in steady streams.
Honcho stood, waiting patiently for the two enraged bulls to calm down. When they did, he clapped his hands once and shouted “¡Olé!”
Miguel charged the other bull, his eyes wild. The other bull, equally preoccupied with the burning gag and plug, managed to dodge Miguel’s horns but got clipped by Miguel’s huge muscular shoulder.
“UPHHH!” The bull quickly turned and headbutted Miguel’s hip. He clenched hard on the plug, making his already-desperate cock even harder. Even from afar, Brett could see the determination and lust burning in this bull’s eyes.
“Come on, go get him,” Brett quietly rooted for the bull.
The pair continued to dodge each other, narrow misses that kept the audience on edge. Miguel was strong and had good endurance. The other bull had good agility. Both seemed somewhat handicapped by the chili-infused gags and plugs, causing both ends to tingle and their cocks to drip. Occasionally, one or both of the bulls would have a bit of a fit, suddenly bucking and hollering through the gag.
“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Brett asked Alden during one of such rages.
“Nope. Just a little tingle,” Alden replied. “But it does build over time. I’d say right now it’s gotten up around 15,000 Scoville units. Nothing these two studs can’t handle.”
“Yeah but… In their butts?” Brett shuddered at the thought.
“It’s just motivation,” Alden shrugged with a smirk. “The aphrodisiac also increases over time. Hard to say which is causing poor Miguel more distress.”
Miguel was indeed having a difficult time. He was humping the air furiously, swinging his horns wildly at the other bull. The other bull was keeping his distance, trying to find an opening.
“So…” Brett furrowed his eyebrows. “What happens if there’s a stalemate?”
“You mean, will your ass be spared a rough reaming by Miguel’s big tool? No, not a chance.” Alden said simply. “I mean look at him.”
Brett gulped. Miguel did look unbelievably horny…
“Please…” Brett silently prayed. “Please beat Miguel.”
The other bull stomped the ground, preparing for another charge. He snorted loudly, frothing at the mouth like a rabid feral beast. Miguel was too preoccupied with his big aching dick to notice the oncoming bull.
“RRRRRRRRRRGH!!” The bull turned and delivered a full body slam. Miguel, clearly winded by the impact, fell onto his side. The other bull wasted no time pinning Miguel, frotting him hard with a deep moan.
Honcho chuckled from his seat, raising his cigar to pronounce the winner.
The results fell on deaf ears; the victorious bull was humping Miguel, desperately trying to mount him despite the restrictions of the suit and the plug.
“Lucky you,” Alden kissed Brett’s cheek. “The rest of this is just going to be an orgy. You wanna watch, or join in?”
Brett pulled another chili pepper ball gag out of the toybox. He strapped it into Alden’s mouth and had him bend over the fence. His cock was about to tear through the fabric of his shorts.
“I think I wanna teach my naughty partner what happens when he bets my ass and loses…”
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Metal would like to thank Cutieboy90 for this story!