b. February 7, 1962 (64 years), Tulsa, Oklahoma.
He had on old worn work boots and a pair of faded Wrangler Cinches undone at the waist, the zipper lowered so that his belly hung out over the waistband. He wore a straw cowboy hat and a pair of work gloves, but nothing else. You’ve been rock hard this whole time. But when he took a strand of Cactus rope and used it to tie your wrists together in the front, telling you, “So my livestock stays well behaved,” your dick began to throb and ache with a painful arousal. He pulled the belt from the loops of his jeans and grinned into your face.
“You ever had the city whooped off your ass, faggot?” he said, stroking the length of the belt repeatedly.
“No, Sir,” you said, eager to please.
He drew both ends of the thick leather belt together and popped them in your face. “Bend forward, faggot.”
He cracked the belt against your ass, sparking a flaming hot pain that tore across your flesh with nerve screeching pain. You cried out, “Thank you, Sir!” your voice trembling. He whipped you a second, third and fourth time in quick succession, causing the flaming hot pain to intensify. Tears were streaming down your face and, once again, in a weakened, trembling voice, you said, “Thank you, Sir!”
He tenderly rubbed the inflamed flesh of your ass where he’d beaten you, with his gloved hand, causing a new painful sensation. “My faggot livestock needs its discipline.” He smacked your tortured ass with the his open, gloved palm, causing you to shout. “You made my dick hard, faggot,” he said, continuing to alternately rub and slap your damaged ass. “Stand up, faggot. Now turn around. And on your knees.” Holding a fistful of your hair in his fist and pulling it roughly, he pushed his rock hard cock against your tear lined face.
It was a gorgeously fat cock, of average length, with a bullet shaped head you now longed to suck.
“Open your mouth, faggot,” he said, still pulling your hair. “I’m gonna breed your top pussy and then you can shovel the shit out of them horse stalls. If you do a good job, I might just beat your ass some more.”
