It was late. It had been a long day of dirty dusty work for the cowboy. Now the sun was almost down. Everyone at the stable was gone for the day, except for the lone cowboy. He had decided to continue his work until it was finished. He had nothing pressing away from the stable and on one wating for him. So he had no reason not to stay and finish the work. He liked being there alone. It allowed him to work uninterrupted and to also indulge himself. He had finished. He then had taken out the whiskey bottle he secretly sucked on through the day. No one was around, so who would know or care. He tilted the huge jug up and took a long warm swallow. He felt the liquid burn as it passed his throat. He liked the taste and feel of the whiskey He took another long pull. He wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand as the warm sensation of the liquor spread over him. He sat on a hay bale and took another long pull on the bottle. He felt good. He felt warm. He wanted more of the liquor. He needed it. He had needed/wanted it all day. He deserved it after the dirty work. At least that was his excuse. He chugged another long pull on the bottle. The shadows lengthened and the barn grew dark with the coming of the evening. The cowboy hardly noticed the change of light or the late hour as he made loving caresses to his jug of whiskey. In the corral the horses skittered away, in a huff of sound and a cloud of dust, from the dark shadow that suddenly materialized out of the near by brush. The shadow darted to the stable. Pressing itself against the wall of the stable, the shadow crept to the open door and tentatively looked into the dusty gray interior. Spotting the cowboy at the far end of the stable, the shadow ducked away from the open door.
Standing still, the shadow listened to the sounds of the stable yard. No voices came from the direction of the offices or the work rooms. The outside was quiet and deserted. Only one truck sat parked at the side of the stable and barns. Its owner obviously the cowboy sitting at the far end of the stable. The shadow gave a thoughtful nod of satisfaction to this observation.
In the dusk of the oncoming night, the shadow stood still, plotting. The escape from the county jail had been sudden and unplanned. The discovery of his unlocked cell door a total surprise. Someone had been lacks in the security of the jail. With no deputies in the restraining area, he had quickly slipped out of the cell, down the hall to the back door and out. He had been unable to steal any vehicles from the back jail lot. All had been locked and secured. He quickly scaled the back wall and slipped down an ally, unobserved. He had looked for a chance to grab a truck or car but nothing had come his way. He crawled down a dry gully that ran in a direction out of the town. Keeping low, he had used what natural cover grew in the gully to hide from detection. All day he had dodged and stumbled out away from the town and the man hunt. His two big needs were transportation and a change out of the county jail orange jump suit and clunky boots he had been forced to wear. Because of the orange color, he stood out no matter how much he might try to conceal himself. He had to find a change of clothes. But all through the day, through the brush and cover of the country side, he had found nothing to help him lose the jail gear. Now, almost dark, here at this outlying stable, was a lone cowboy and his truck. The truck, the escapee's wheels out of the area. The cowboy, the escapee's chance to g grab some gear and become someone else in looks.
The orange clad shadow again crept to the open stable door. Slowly he sank to one knee. He carefully moved his head to see into the barn. The shadows had deepened even more. There was only one dim dusty fly specked light bulb burning high up inside the stable. He strained to see to the end of the barn. In the deep purple shadows of the interior, the cowboy again tilted the big whiskey bottle up and pulled a big slug into his empty stomach. Again wiping the slopped whiskey form his lips, the cowboy gave a loud sigh of pleasure. He looked around the dark barn and at the little work left to do. He looked at the big bottle of tempting whiskey and shrugged off the work. He lifted the bottle and drank. Unsteadily, he sat the bottle on the bale next to him. He belched loudly and sighed contentedly once more. At the stable door, low to the ground, the escapee watched the movements of the cowboy with concentrated interest. A slow evil grin spread across his lips, as he studied the back of the unsuspecting cowboy.
Not 5 minutes passed before the cowboy drunkenly took up the whiskey bottle and gulped down another big swallow. Weaving from side to side, he slide off the bale to the stable floor, his booted feet splayed out in front of him, his head resting back on the bale, his eyes shut. With another contented sigh, he took one more pull from the nearly empty bottle.
The escapee drew himself into a low crouch. Slowly he moved through the stable door and slunk into the dark opening of a side stall. Carefully he slipped to the next stall, keeping his eyes on his prize. The cowboy continued to sit on the ground, his back propped against the bale of hay. He muttered the drunken words of a song as he cradled the almost empty bottle in his arms. The escapee flitted into the next stall, bumping into a saddle hung over the top of the stall gate. It sounded like a cannon in the silent barn. Freezing into the dark shadows, the escapee scrutinized the cowboy for any alarm to the sudden noise. The cowboy, muttering his drunken song, had heard nothing.
The escapee was now only 3 stalls from the cowboy. He could see the cowboy better now. As he watched, the cowboy's head began to drop forward and the song became less distinct. The escapee stepped silently from the stall. He felt the floor shift under his foot. He sank down on one knee. Searching with one hand along the floor, he felt a straw covered piece of stall rail. His foot on top of it. Carefully he ran his hand around the edges of the rail. It was not nailed to anything. Slipping back a step, the escapee lifted the rail into his grasp. It was not long and was easy to hold. Checking the cowboy, the escapee primed himself and sprang forward. In one sudden quick motion, he lept the last few feet to the cowboy, swung the rail down and slammed it against the drunken cowboy's head as hard as he could. The cowboy had heard nothing. The rail driving into him. He was out in an instant.
Breathing hard, the escapee dropped the rail and stood over the unconscious cowboy. The cowboy's hat had gone flying off with the force of the blow. A small trickle of blood ran down the cowboys head. The escapee kicked the limp form of the cowboy. Nothing. Squatting, the escapee inspected his prize. He pulled the limp head of the cowboy up for a good look. Yes, this drunk would do just fine. Better than he had hoped for all day. The best being, his own thick mustache mimicked the unconscious cowboy's. At night, in a dark truck, he just might pull off the switch. The escapee gave a wicked laugh of satisfaction at not only having overcome the cowboy, but having gotten someone he resembled in more than a passing way. Stealing this cowboy's gear and identity was going to be just that much sweeter.
The escapee stood and pulled the unconscious cowboy up into a sitting position against the hay bale. He panned down the length of the cowboy's body, inventorying what the cowboy wore. A dirty used denim work jacket hung open; disclosing a used work stained leather vest and a faded denim western work shirt. Around the cowboy's neck was knotted a dusty gray neckerchief. Below the bottom edge of the jacket the faded, dirty dusty Wrangler jeans were held in place by a old worn tooled western belt with a big rodeo buckle. A huge buckle that covered almost the full front of the cowboy's tight jeans. Across the huge buckle was pulled the belt of a set of stained and used dark brown leather chink chaps. They came only a little past the knees of the unconscious cowboy. Below the fringe of the chinks, the legs of the jeans were stuffed into the tall tops of dirty barn work abused and scuffed brown western boots. Strapped around the boots were big roweled spurs. The straps themselves wide and beaten with abuse and use. Heavy used and stained work gloves encased the cowboy's hands. The high crowned black cowboy hat, the cowboy had been wearing, now lay a few feet away in the straw and dust of the barn. Yes, the escapee grinned to himself, this drunk would do better than he had expected.
As the escapee stood looking at the gear and the limp cowboy, he could feel his long thick cock beginning to grow. Yeah, he liked what he saw. He could even smell the gear and the whiskey. It was turning him on. The cowboy gear and the anticipation of wearing it and becoming the cowboy excited him now and his cock called out in a hard stiff rage for release. And, the escapee thought, once he had this cowboy's gear on his own body, the limp unconscious ass of this cowboy was going to supply him with a nice warm hole to plunge his raging hard-on into. Once he had satisfied himself and had the stripped and raped cowboy into the orange jail suit and clunky boots, he would dump him in the river. Making sure the cowboy was never found. Stepping down to the cowboy's feet he pulled him down flat on the floor. Next he stood over the cowboy, straddling his legs. He lifted a booted foot and began to pull as hard as he could. The boot resisted at first, but slowly it began to slide off the unconscious cowboy's foot. As the boot pulled off, there was a whoosh of sound and smell from the hot sweaty foot. The escapee grinned and shoved his nose down into the dirty sock he had revealed. He breathed deep and long. His hard cock jumping at the intoxicating odor. Strong heady stuff. The escapee moaned and rubbed the sweat wet socked foot over his face, as he dry humped the wrangler encased leg that ran between his own legs. Reluctantly he removed the socked foot from his face and pulled off the sock. And still the excitement raced through him. He had to make himself stop and go for the second boot. It too proved difficult to get off, but like the first it gave to a steady hard pull. The escapee noted the size of the boots and realized they would be to big for him. A couple sizes at least. But he would take them anyway and wear them. He had to. They were the cowboy's boots and he was going to take all the gear the drunk had no matter what. The second sock was as dirty as the first and just as exciting to the escapee. He crammed both sweat wet warm socks into his mouth and sucked the taste of the cowboy into his own being. He groaned with sexual lust as he swallowed the cowboy's sweat and essence. His own hard jail bird dick crying for release of its pent up need. Sniffing the socks one last time, he stuffed them into the tall worn boots.
Next the escapee squatted, rolled the cowboy on his side and undid the belt of the chinks and the buckles from around his legs. The old worn used leather of the chinks soft with age, smelly with horse sweat and dirt, Working hard, he managed to pull them from the cowboy's legs and waist without having to lift the dead weight. Pulling the thick used gloves from the work hardened hands of the cowboy proved easy. The neckerchief was no problem at all. Just on knot and it was taken. Lifting the cowboy up into a slump, the escapee roughly pulled the sleeves of the old used faded jacket down and off the cowboy's arms. Released from the limp arms, the jacket came the rest of the way with ease. Now the vest the escapee thought. He yanked the leather vest off with no problem. The faded denim shirt fit the cowboy tightly. Wet sweat stains soaked the under arms of the sleeves. The escapee knew he was going to have to work hard to get the tight shirt yanked off. But, with the pearl snaps popped open, the job became much easier. With some grunting and huffing the escapee managed to peel the shirt off the cowboy. Shaking with excitement the escapee shoved the wet sweat stained denim into his face. Breathing as deep as he could he filled his lungs with the sweet smell of the hard working cowboy. Precum oozed from the escapee's hard dick and stained the front of the orange jump suit. With a shudder of anticipation he added the shirt to the other gear.
Again squatting, the escapee pulled open the big rodeo buckle and popped open the top button of the Wrangler jeans. The zipper gave no resistance. Stepping down to the cuffs of the legs, the escapee pulled as hard as he could on the jeans. They moved only a little. The full weight of the unconscious cowboy on them. The escapee pulled harder and they moved again. Another difficult pull and they slid past the hips of the unconscious cowboy and began the long journey down the cowboy's legs. Finally they were off. Looking at the jeans, the escapee knew he was going to have a difficult time getting them buttoned and zipped. It was going to be tight. Real tight. Buy he would make it work no matter what. The cowboy wore no underwear. So now he lay naked in the dim light. His limp body uncovered. The last thing the escapee took from the unknowing cowboy was a small gold pinkie ring. Licking his dry lips, the escapee slid the ring on his own finger.
Quickly kicking off the clunky boots and jail issued socks, the escapee pulled the orange jump suit down and off his body. Exposing his hard strong body and his long thick raging hard-on of a sex starved cock to the dusty night air of the stable.
Trembling with desire, he went to the gear he had stripped off the unknowing cowboy. He grabbed up the long legged Wrangler jeans and pulled them on. They were tight in the thighs like he had thought they would be. Tight in the waist too. And so long they hung past his feet by inches. He left the jeans open as he lifted the worn sweat wet Wrangler work shirt and pulled it onto his shoulders. The cowboy was broad in the shoulders. The escapee was large himself, but the shirt still was to big across the shoulders. The escapee didn't stop to care. He needed the gear and the truck and he was going to take it no matter what. He pulled the shirt halves together and snapped shut the snaps. The shirt was lose over his shoulders but the customt tapered lower half was tight enough to make the shirt gap at the snaps. He shoved the tails of the shirt down inside the open Wranglers and sucked in. He sucked in hard, pulling the open jeans closed. With one good effort he managed to both button and zip them closed. The big rodeo buckle covered more then half the area across his waist. The jeans were tight. Skin tight on him. The cowboy might have been large in the shoulders but he was narrow waisted. Unlike the escapee. He was bigger in the hips but with no fat on his body. The escapee struggled to sit on a bale in the tight jeans. He had to slide the extra length of the jeans leg up to pull on the dirty sweat smelling socks. They were still wet and pulled on with difficulty. But he worked them up his legs to their full height. Then he looked for the tall dusty brown cowboy boots. He had no problem getting them on. As he had seen, they were to big for his feet. Even with the straps of the spurs as tight as they were, the boots were sloppy on his feet. The long extra length of the jeans he stuffed into the knee high tops of the boots; just as the cowboy at his feet had worn them.
The escapee bent and retrieved the scuffed leather vest and slipped into it. It too was big in the shoulders but he needed to have it on. He craved to have it on. The jacket like all the other top gear items was to big in the shoulders but he knew he wanted it, needed it to complete the look. The neckerchief was easy. He wrapped the dusty gray kerchief quickly around his own neck and knotted it into place
The escapee kicked his booted, spurred foot at the pile of limp leather at his feet. He glanced at the unconscious naked cowboy, as he leaned down and gathered the old used stained chinks. Whipping the two halves around his waist he pulled the back belt into its buckle and cinched it tight. He fumbled a little as he pulled the first of the leg straps around his thigh and clipped it closed. The rest of the straps were easier. He stood and looked down his body and flexed his legs. The chinks swayed with the motion and the fringes gently rocked. The escapee's lust filled chuckle filled the empty stable. Looking around, the escapee found the tall crowned black cowboy hat. He stepped over to where it lay and picked it up. Dusting off some of the straw he pulled it on. It was a size to big but he still kept it on. He would make it fit later. Searching for the last item of gear, he spotted the worn used gloves at the feet of the naked cowboy. The gloves gave him no trouble as he pulled them on. They too were big for his hands. He ran his gloved hands down over his cowboy geared body and laughed a throaty laugh as he gazed at his victim. He walked to the naked cowboy, bent and took up the almost empty whiskey bottle and drained it. Wiping the dribbles from his stache, he knew he was the drunk cowboy now.
Checking the limp unconscious cowboy for any signs of waking, the escapee nodded in satisfaction. The blow had been a good one. A very hard delivery. The cowboy wasn't going to wake for a long time. The escapee's hard throbbing dick pressed against the tight front of the Wranglers he now wore. Pushing even against the leather of the chinks wrapped around his legs. An evil grin spread across the escapees lips as he picked the orange jump suit from the straw and dirt of the stable floor. He struggled to squat down in the tight jeans. The rowels of the spurs just fractions of an inch from his own butt. He fought with the limp legs of the cowboy as he worked to pull the jump suit onto the unresisting body. He had to lift the cowboy up over a bale to be able to get the jump suit past the cowboy's waist. From then it was easier and he rolled the dead weight of the cowboy onto his back so he could zip the jump suit closed. The jump suit had been baggy on the escapee but it was not so lose on the unknowing cowboy. The dirty baggy jail socks gave the escapee no resistance as he pulled them onto the cowboys feet. The clunky jail boots were more of a problem. They were at least a size, if not two, too small for the big footed cowboy. The escapee yanked the laces open and shoved with as much leverage as he could and the boots reluctantly slid onto the big feet.
The struggle to cloth the unconscious cowboy in the jail gear had stimulated the escapee's hard dick even more. His lust for the warm ass of his I D victim ragging full blown. Rubbing his denim covered crotch, with his gloved hand, the escapee could hold back no longer. He needed to be the cowboy in a total way. He needed to become the cowboy. To take everything from him. His uncontrolled lust drove him to complete his needs.
Dropping down onto the unresponsive form of the cowboy, the escapee crawled his way up onto him. He moved deliberately over the cowboy's naked sweaty, whiskey smelling body. His chest pressing against the cowboy's. His hard hungry cock digging into the crotch of the unknowing cowboy. He pressed his lusting lips down onto the thick warm lips of the cowboy and tasted the old whiskey that lingered on them. He moaned deeply as he sucked and chewed on the cowboy's mustache. Faster and faster he humped his denim locked cock into the naked cowboys crotch, until he could stand it no longer. With lust crazed movements, the escapee stood, rolled the unknowing limp cowboy onto his chest. Yanking a buck knife from it's sheath on the wide western belt, the escapee cut open the ass seam of the jump suited cowboy. Discarding the knife, and yanking down the tightly closed zipper to release his sex hungry cock, the escapee dropped his sex crazed body down onto the inviting orange covered ass and shoved his hard man needing lusting cock deep into the cowboy's virgin ass. The warmth of the cowboy's hole spread around his thick hard cock and griped tightly as he pounded deep and hard into it. Harder and harder he slammed his raging cock deeper and deeper into the now wet hot hole that was the cowboy's virgin ass. Grunting like a wild animal, he drove his cock to the limit. Over and over he plunged deep. Thrusting again and again. Sweating in the tight cowboy gear, the escapee was crazed to take all from the cowboy. To become him totally. Pulling back on his legs, the escapee rose and pulled the ass of the cowboy up with him. Now he could drive even deeper and he did. Deeper and harder. Over and over he slammed into the virgin ass. The bottoms of the leather chinks slapping his legs as his hips thrust ever more violently. The rowels of the spurs clinking as they hit the wood floor when he rocked his thrusting body back and forth. His sweat soaked the shirt, rolled from under the cowboy hat. It mingled with the sweat of the cowboy until the two became one. Faster and faster he drove into the now dripping folds of an unresisting cowboy asshole. Grunting with raging passion and need, the escapee released his huge thick cum stream deep into the bowels of the cowboy. Shuddering as each wave of cum shot into the tight warm hole wrapped around the now sensitive head of his hungry cock. With one last violent spasm the escapee cried out to the night "Now I am you. I am the cowboy. You are me. You are the jail bird." With that, the escapee dropped down onto the floor in a limp sex released gasp. He pushed himself off the dead weight of the cum filled unconscious cowboy.
The escapee adjusted his dead limp cock, inside the too tight Wranglers, and again sucked in his waist to pull the zipper closed. Stepping to the cowboy, the escapee pulled the unresponsive body up, lifted it onto his shoulder and carried it to the pickup outside the stable. It was heavy hard work. The sloppy fit of the cowboy boots made it difficult to walk. Huffing form the effort, the escapee dropped the cowboy into the bed of the truck. Stumbling back inside the escapee swept up the empty whiskey bottle. He scanned the area for any overlooked gear, picked up the discarded knife and sheathed it, turned and headed to the truck. A cell phone, clipped to the cowboys' belt began to vibrate. The escapee dropped his hand to it, but didn't pull it off or answer the call. Soon the call stopped. The call encouraged the escapee to a faster pace. He had to put miles between him and this stable and barn yard. He had to get out of the area before daylight. Before he could no longer pass totally for the cowboy. The dark was his friend and he needed to use it. He pulled open the driver's door, slid in, closed it, grabbed the key, started the truck and spun out of the yard. It was now all his. He was going to be free and get away. He laughed at the thought of the deputies finding a body in the river dressed in orange. He knew it would give him time. He dropped his hand to his hardening cock and laughed an evil hungry laugh. A sex hungry unknowing hitchhiker would be just the thing to pick up and get him off. And he thought, if he needed a change of I D and gear the hitchhiker might be his size. The escapee rubbed his hard cock through the skin tight denim and grinned. It was late, the truck speed down the road. The limp, orange dressed body of the drowning cowboy floated slowly into a hidden brush covered undercut of the river. Slowly in the rotating current the body turned and turned, eventually catching a submerged tree snag, sinking down into dark cold waters.
Four and a half days later, at a seldom used, neglected roadside rest stop, 1,200 miles from the stable, a cowboy slept in his truck. His chink covered legs and big spur booted feet crossed, and resting on the open window of the truck. His hat covered face pressed lightly against the diver's door. The sound of tires on gravel woke the sleeping cowboy. A slow, sly grin spread across his face as he slid his hat up and peered into the rear view mirror at the distinctive black and white of a deputie's cruiser. Four days was long enough to have been a cowboy.
All characters and situations are fictional. This story written by Casaaer.