By Alex Ironrod
Something woke Jack Thomson from his troubled doze. He struggled, but his arms remained outstretched, roped. Instead he only succeeded in tormenting his prick, tied to the saddle horn, and his ass hole with its invasive thick plug. Unable to see or hear much through the thick leather of the hood, or to move his hobbled legs, he wobbled in the saddle atop the wooden saddle rack.
The leather creaked and then he heard the ching of those damned spurs of Ranger Brad Steenbeck, whose voice seemed far away, “Wake up, kid, time to get moving.” His penis was released, then his legs and finally his arms. But the Aggie still couldn’t see anything through the leather across his face, and his mouth was sore and dry from the tight gag. “Come on, try to dismount.” Jack could feel Brad’s arms supporting him, as he willed his tired muscles to move, after his all-night torment. He finally slid out of the saddle, to be held by the ranger, who untied the hood and the leather gag.
Continue reading An ‘Aggie’ Man and the Texas Ranger – Part 2