The Gentleman’s Prize

The Brisbane Rodeo had one final, signature event that drew a more refined crowd than the bull riding: the Gentleman Derby. It was part horsemanship competition, part old-world chivalry contest. Contestants had to demonstrate expert riding, rope handling, and—most importantly—true gentlemanly conduct toward a panel of judges and the elegant “Living Trophy” herself.

Clyde hadn’t planned on entering. But after his night with Michelle, word of the quiet, massively built cowboy with impeccable manners had spread. She was the one who signed him up, whispering in his ear the next morning, “You were made for this.”

The event was held under strings of warm lights in the main arena after dark. Five finalists, all strong and handsome in their own right, but none carried themselves quite like Clyde. He rode with natural authority, his powerful body moving in perfect sync with the horse. When it came to the chivalry rounds—opening gates for the Trophy, helping her mount and dismount, carrying heavy saddles while speaking respectfully, even reciting old cowboy poetry with genuine feeling—Clyde outshone them all.

He won by a landslide.

The Living Trophy for the night was Isabella Voss — a stunning 26-year-old event ambassador. Tall for a woman at 5'9", with long, silky black hair cascading down her back, olive skin that glowed under the lights, and a body that blended athletic grace with lush femininity. Her deep green eyes, full lips, and generous curves—especially her heavy, rounded breasts and flared hips—made her the perfect prize. She wore a fitted white western blouse with pearl snaps, a short leather skirt, and knee-high boots that accentuated her long legs.

When the announcer declared Clyde the winner, Isabella stepped forward with a radiant, slightly nervous smile. A delicate silver tiara rested in her hair, marking her as the night’s trophy.

“Congratulations, cowboy,” she said softly as the crowd cheered. “It seems I’m yours for the evening.”

Clyde tipped his hat, his deep voice warm and respectful. “Only if you want to be, ma’am. I don’t claim trophies. I earn the honor of their company.”

Isabella’s cheeks flushed. The chemistry was instant.

They left the arena together in his truck, heading back to a private luxury cabin reserved for the Derby winner on the edge of the rodeo grounds. The moment the door closed behind them, the air thickened with desire.

Isabella turned to him, biting her lip. “I’ve been watching you all night. The way you move… the way every woman here looked at you. And that… bulge. I thought it was just the lighting. But it’s not, is it?”

Clyde stepped close, towering over her. He gently cupped her face with one large, calloused hand. “No, it’s not. But we go at your pace, Isabella. You’re not just a trophy to me. You’re a lady.”

She melted.

Their first kiss was slow and deep, building heat. Isabella’s hands explored the impossible width of his chest and shoulders, popping the buttons of his shirt open one by one to reveal the sculpted, vein-laced muscle underneath. She moaned into his mouth as her palms slid over the deep ridges of his abs.

Clyde undressed her with reverent patience—kissing her neck, her collarbone, and the swell of her breasts as he peeled away her blouse and bra. Her heavy tits spilled free, nipples already stiff. He lavished them with attention, sucking and kneading until her knees weakened.

He carried her to the king-sized bed like she weighed nothing. There, he worshipped her properly—spreading her thighs and devouring her with long, slow strokes of his tongue, two thick fingers curling inside her while she gripped his hair and cried out in pleasure. He brought her to a soaking, trembling orgasm before he even removed his jeans.

When his massive 12-inch cock finally sprang free, thick and heavy, Isabella’s eyes widened with lust and a hint of trepidation.

“Sweet lord…” she whispered, wrapping both hands around the throbbing girth. “No wonder they call you the Stallion now.”

She sucked him eagerly, stretching her full lips around the broad head, working as much of his length as she could with her mouth and hands, saliva glistening down the veined shaft. Clyde groaned, one hand gently resting on her head, never forcing.

When she was dripping and desperate, she climbed on top. Clyde held her hips, guiding her, murmuring praises the entire time—“That’s it, beautiful… nice and slow… you’re doing so well.”

Inch after thick inch stretched her open. Isabella gasped and shuddered as she sank down, her pussy gripping him tightly, the obscene bulge visible in her lower belly once she finally took him to the hilt. The sensation was overwhelming. She rode him with growing confidence, her heavy breasts bouncing, hands braced on his rock-hard pecs as she chased her pleasure.

Clyde flipped them with effortless strength, staying buried deep inside her. He fucked her with long, powerful strokes—deep, sensual, and controlled—while kissing her passionately. One hand pinned her wrists gently above her head, the other rubbed her clit until she came hard around his cock, screaming his name.

Only then did he let go, flooding her with thick, heavy ropes of cum that overflowed and ran down her thighs.

Afterward, Clyde pulled her against his massive chest, stroking her hair and back with tender hands. He kissed her forehead and whispered, “You were incredible, Isabella. Thank you for trusting me.”

She smiled sleepily, tracing the deep valley between his pecs. “Best trophy presentation I’ve ever had. You really are a gentleman, Clyde… with the body and cock of a god.”

He chuckled softly, holding her closer.

The horse’s kick had given him power. But it was his heart—and the way he treated every woman who came into his life—that made them stay.

And the night was still young.