Spying the two cowboys leaning on the fence, with one foot resting on the lower plank, ten-gallon hats set back on their heads, hay stalks in their mouths, and scanning their surroundings, with their horses chomping on grass behind them, Jason Joyner immediately began assessing the two for sexiness appeal. He was only fourteen, but he’d been looking at every man as a potential sex partner since the Hollywood producer, Ted Craven, had been caught feeling him up on the couch in his office. Craven hadn’t gotten any farther than heavy petting, but Jason wished he had. Jason was aching for some man to go farther--he’d already decided what he wanted in life--but none had.

Jason’s parents’ answer to Craven’s petting--movie stars both themselves--was to pull Jason out of Craven’s TV sitcom project and get him contracted to play in a Western movie. Hence, on both counts, why Jason was out here on this Colorado dude ranch, Turner’s Valley Ranch, northeast of Granby and in a valley between the 14,000-foot Long’s Peak and the 12,000-foot Mount Craig. They had both been getting Jason out from underneath the scuttlebutt of what exactly Craven did to him and put him in a dude ranch where he could learn to ride a horse for the coming movie production. They hadn’t come out here with him--they were both in movie productions themselves. They’d sent a companion, Randal Hines. What they apparently didn’t know, though, was that Randy was gay and was randy for Jason, as Jason was for him. Randy just wasn’t going to lose his job over fucking a fourteen-year-old no matter how interested Jason was in that.

In moments of weakness, Randy and Jason had done some kissing and light petting, but Randy had always pulled off, saying he wasn’t the one who was going to pick Jason’s male cherry no matter how interested they were in each other. “I’m being paid too much to lose my job,” he’d said. “Come back when you’re eighteen and aren’t a virgin anymore and I’ll lay you right.”

So, Jason was about as frustrated as a teen could be over unrequited sex--even though he was being really precocious about it.

Both of the cowboys passed his “would I?” test. The bar on that was pretty low, but, in fact, both were good-looking, muscular, and leering at him as he came up to them on his horse. The shorter and younger of the two was solidly built. He was half something and half something else south of the border, dark-haired, deeply tanned, and sultry looking. He wore his cowboy shirt, worn jeans, and boots quite well. Jason checked out the man’s basket, the denim worn more there and in the knees than elsewhere, and he gave a little shudder, realizing he could see the line of a thick cock there.

The other cowboy was older, taller, and stringier. He was muscular too, but in a wiry way, and he had a mean, “seen it all” look about him. His clothes were more worn than the younger cowboy’s, but in the similar working-cowboy vein, and his exposed arms were covered in tattoos that ran up into his neck, giving him a thuggish appearance. He gave Jason the shudders and, if anything, provided the boy more of an arousal rush than the younger cowboy did. The line of his cock was evident too, a long snake running down his inner thigh. It wasn’t lost on Jason that the snake was stirring as he rode up.

“Howdy, there, son,” the taller, older guy said in greeting. “You lost? This is Turner Valley Ranch land.”

“No. I’m staying at the ranch,” Jason answered. “I’m Jason. I’m riding a lot while I’m here.”

“You riding alone? That’s not safe. I’m Chuck, the half-breed here is Pete. He’s half Navaho, in case you wondered.”

“Don usually rides with me,” Jason answered, referring to the nineteen-year-old summer worker on the ranch who’d been assigned to dog Jason. Randy wasn’t the outdoor type and was spending his time on the ranch working on a screenplay he planned on making him famous in Hollywood. “He had to help with haying today, though. I’ve ridden this section a lot. I wish they’d let me go up in the mountains and get practice riding a horse up there, but so far they’re keeping me to the valley sections. Nobody has time to take me up there, they say.”

“We’ve got time, don’t we, Pete?” Chuck said. “If you haven’t been up in the mountains, I bet you haven’t seen any mountain Aziz yet. That’s quite something up in these parts, ain’t it, Pete?” He turned to his sidekick and winked, and Pete smiled and winked right back.

“Sure is, Chuck. Not a sight to be missed.”

“You’re quite a looker, little guy,” Chuck said. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Sweet. Ain’t that sweet, Pete?”

“Sure is, Chuck,” Pete answered. “You really shouldn’t leave the valley without having seen your first Aziz up close.”

“So, if nobody else on the ranch has time to take you up into the mountains and introduce you to Aziz, Pete and me here could do that. We shouldn’t be taking away from our other chores here, though, so you’d have to keep it between just us. What’a you say? You game?”

“Sure,” Jason answered. He had no idea what an Aziz was, but a day up in the mountains with these two cowboys? Hot diggety do. “Could we go up tomorrow?”

“Meet us here at nine in the morning,” Chuck said, with a big smile. “We’ll have everything we need to make a day of it. Have you back by dark. You will have seen a lot of Aziz.”

They rode up onto Mount Craig the next morning--on three horses, with very little other gear. Chuck said they needed to travel light because of the steepness of the paths up into the mountain. He also said that the best Aziz was to be had on Mount Craig.

“Will we see any Aziz soon?” Jason had asked.

“Soon enough. You’ll be amazed. The first time with Aziz is really special. We’ll probably flush them out when we stop for lunch--high on the mountain without anyone else around.”

High on the mountain, at the edge of a grove of trees and by a fast-moving mountain stream, Jason saw his first Aziz. They’d eaten lunch by an improvised fire with the saddles off the horses and on the ground around the fire for the men and boy to lean on while they ate. The horses, hobbled, grazed in a meadow sloping down from the stream.

After they’d eaten, Chuck stood up, unbuttoned his fly, pulled out his long, thin snake of a cock and pissed an arc of piss into the mountain brook. He held his cock in his hand and turned his face toward Jason and smiled. Even after the stream of piss had stopped, he held and stroked his cock. Jason could see that it was hardening.

“You gonna tell him what an Aziz is, or do you want me to?” Chuck asked Pete, who had moved over to beside Jason, who was leaning on his saddle, which had been placed on the ground.

“Aziz is Navaho for cock. For dick, prick, shaft, penis. Understand, Jason, boy?”

“You’re gonna see a lot of aziz now,” Chuck said, a laugh coming up from low in his belly.

Jason made a move to leave--to who knew where? He certainly didn’t--but Pete was on him and then behind him and under him, pinning his arms down and lacing his legs around the boy’s legs, holding him immobile.