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Rogayo by Landon Dixon The tall, lean man strode down the tunnel and into the tiny office located deep in the bowels of the Wyoming sports arena. He wore crotchless, cheekless cowhide chaps, a ten-gallon white Stetson, a pair of polished red cowboy boots, and nothing else. His hung c**k swung along to his ambling gait, his big, shaven balls bouncing, taut, tanned, mounded butt cheeks clenching and unclenching. “Well, lookee who’s here!” Clint Adams, bossman of the Wyoming rogayo, exclaimed, looking up from the paperwork piled atop the small desk in the cramped room. There were three other cowboys lounging around, getting their registrations in order. They were all displaying hanging c***s and dangling balls, hard, round, thrust-back butt cheeks, in various stages of partial western dres