Rodeo Rumble In The Stalls - Mark Long, Elliot Finn And Dante Colle

The afternoon sun slants through the gaps in the old wooden walls of the rodeo stalls, painting stripes of gold across dusty hay and the three men inside. Mark Long, broad-shouldered and still in his chaps, leans back against a stall post while Elliot Finn and Dante Colle circle him like they’ve been waiting all day for this moment.

Elliot drops to his knees first, fingers working Mark’s belt open with quick, practiced tugs. The heavy leather falls away, and Elliot’s mouth is on him immediately—hot, wet, sliding down Mark’s thick cock until his nose presses into the dark trail of hair at the base. Mark groans, one hand gripping the back of Elliot’s head, guiding him deeper.

Dante steps in close behind Mark, chest to back, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Been watching you ride all day,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. His hands slide under Mark’s shirt, palms flat over hard muscle, thumbs flicking across nipples until they tighten. Dante’s own cock is already hard against Mark’s ass, denim straining.

Elliot pulls off with a wet pop, spit glistening on Mark’s shaft. He stands, spins Mark around, and bends him forward over a hay bale. Dante’s already got his jeans open, cock out, thick and flushed. He spits into his palm, slicks himself, and pushes in slow—inch by inch until Mark’s hole stretches around him, gripping tight.

Mark’s breath hitches. Elliot moves in front, feeding his cock between Mark’s lips while Dante starts to thrust. The stall fills with the wet sounds of fucking—skin slapping skin, Elliot’s cock sliding over Mark’s tongue, Dante’s hips snapping forward. Mark moans around Elliot’s length, the vibration making Elliot’s thighs shake.

Dante reaches around, fist closing around Mark’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. Elliot’s hand joins his, both of them working Mark until his whole body tenses. He comes first—spilling over their fingers, clenching around Dante’s cock. Dante follows with a low growl, burying himself deep and pulsing inside. Elliot pulls out, jerks himself twice, and paints Mark’s tongue and lips with thick ropes of cum.

They stay like that for a moment—sweaty, breathing hard—until the distant roar of the crowd reminds them the next event is starting. Dante pulls out slow, Elliot tucks himself away, and Mark straightens with a satisfied grin, already reaching for his belt again.