It’s tough work being Anton.
People don’t get it – really. There’s so much to uphold being such a big name in Big Horn, NM. Being the oldest son in the Devere family, spending his days working the family ranch just outside of town, corresponding with all of the girls he’s texting right now. He might dress like a cowboy and try to put on some cowboyish charm when he flirts, but it’s 2024. He’s not really a cowboy.
Today, he hops in his truck and drives out to the edge of the farm, past the cattle, past the lavender, past the crags and the rocks and the infinite brown landscape of the American Southwest. A squat wooden fence surrounds the perimeter of the property, although it’s not immediately clear the difference between the farm and not the farm. It’s still just endless sand and dirt forever. In the distance phone wires run past roads run past nothing. There might not be cell service, but this is the perfect place to take some photos.
It’s hard to get them at home. There’s always someone home, always someone entering through the door after sports practice, his dad throwing his hat up on the rack by the door, fighting, talking, laughing, always something. Here, he’s a mile-and-a-half away from the nearest human being. If anyone starts driving up he’ll know it 5 minutes before they get there and if they walk up they might pass out from dehydration first.
He slams the door of the truck and goes around to the back. Hopping up to sit on the ledge of the truck, he grins to himself. The sun is setting in the distance. Dinner will be soon.
Anton knows he looks good, and the clothing is pretty practical too. The poncho keeps the sun off of his feathers, as does the cowboy hat. The boots are great for walking over the rocks, and when he deals with cattle it’s nice having something with a hard toe.
He unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out of his black briefs. He’s already hard – he’s been hard the whole drive over. It’s always nice to get to take some photos.
Anton holds his dick in his hand and takes his phone out. Everything is perfect about the framing of the photo already. He’s a heavier guy, and his thighs look great smushed against the floor of the trunk. His tail sits comfortably to the left. The golden hour lighting perfectly brightens the darker feathers across his body and makes his iridescent feathers shine. The position is perfect too. He’s showing a lot but not everything. There’s still an allure underneath the poncho, the briefs hiding his thighs, the denim wrapped around his legs.
Not to mention his cock, obviously. That’s what the girls like the most. He has a big fucking cock. It’s nice and thick with a beautiful pink head.
He coos to the camera and takes a few photos.
It is definitely dinner time now, but he drove all the way out here. Anton figures he might as well go all the way. He stands up and sets his phone up on a rock, waddling with his pants down and his cock out the whole way. No one’s gonna see that part, that’s for sure.
Anton sits back down with a grin and grips his cock. It feels fucking good, especially after a whole day of throwing hay around in the hot sun. He grins to the camera. “You like that, don’t you, baby?” His voice is low but it carries.
He starts to massage his cock, holding his thumb up in front and wrapping around the back with his index feathers. He’s so thick that his hand doesn’t fit all the way around. “Fuck, baby,” he coos. “Mmm, milk that big pigeon cock, huh?”
He kicks his boots off into the sand and wriggles his jeans off too. Spreading his legs wide, he brings his foot up onto the trunk. His cock reaches past his stomach and his balls hang low. Anton really makes sure to give a good view to the camera. Lying back, he looks up to the sky as he really touches himself.
It feels great. All of the soreness of his body, all of the heat of the day, everything melts away as he jerks off. Up and down, up and down. His cock starts to throb with the movement of his hand. He coos with each jolt.
In fact, Anton forgets he’s recording himself at all. He forgets he’s supposed to be home for dinner. He forgets the sunset is shining warm light onto him. The pigeon grabs his cock with both hands and grips tightly. It throbs in his feathers. He massages just right where the tip of the head of his penis begins with his left hand and he lets out a lovely coo.
“That’s it,” he says to himself, “That’s fuckin’ it.”
Orgasm starts to pulse through him. Anton wants to stop. He wants to perform for the camera or at least show his moaning face. He can’t. Anton keeps going, pumping his cock with both hands until pleasure pulses through his body. He tilts his head back and lets out a loud coo. It trills through the desert.
Cum drips down his cock, covering his hands still gripped tightly around his dick, caking his briefs. It’s so warm.
He lets out a few huffs before sitting up and grinning at the camera. “Yeah,” he says, maybe trying to save face, “You fuckin’ liked that baby.”
Anton puts his dick away without cleaning off any of the cum. He stands up and buckles his jeans back up, still mostly hard, and wipes the semen off of his hands onto his pants. He grins at the camera before turning it off. It’s hot.
“Hoo,” he says to himself, tucking his phone away and stepping back into the front seat of his car. The air conditioning feels great against his feathers.
Looks like dinner’s already started. He’ll just have to be a little late.