by Dale Chase
“Never wanted do different,” says Evan. “Nothing tying me down, nobody trying to make me what I’m not. Even with Bart dead, I still don’t want no different.”
We continue north to Wyoming, and when we see a patch of green up ahead, we stop since there’s water there. The horses drink and we do, too, eat some hardtack, fill our canteens. When Evan pulls off his shirt, showing no undershirt, I’m set onto a path that leads forward at the same time it veers to one side. My dick says to act upon my wants, but something else says to hold off, and I’m struck by this as resistance is unfamiliar. Evan wets the shirt and himself, then stretches, water drops shining on him. I’m hard, but still don’t do anything. I’ve always taken what I want, but there’s a beforehand kind of feel to this, knowing it’ll happen and enjoying the prospect. I could look away so as not to rile myself, but this beforehand thing keeps me enjoying sight of the kid. My gut churns some, the whole of me slipping into a sort of spell, then it’s time to ride on.
Sundown finds us near the Wyoming border at a town called Mercy, which don’t seem right as it’s not much more than shacks. The saloon is the finest building in town, not much but above the rest, and I buy Evan a couple whiskeys, wanting him loosened up, myself, too. We eat supper there as well, then set up camp a few miles from town. Evan builds a fire while I see to the horses, and I then find him laying out his bedroll. I do likewise, knowing the beforehand will soon come to an end.
Night air cools the day’s heat, but not so you can’t shed some clothes. The land smells sweet as light dies away. Then Evan takes off his shirt, lies on his bedding and looks up to the stars, and I lie on the other side of the fire and watch him. I note his straight nose and firm jaw, lips a little apart, eyes open to the sky, and I wonder does he count stars? What runs through him? He seems more patient than most young men, giving off a calm that in itself has appeal. Like he’s both easy and difficult.
It’s as I think these quiet thoughts I see his hand slide to his thigh and from there to his crotch, where it rests atop a good bulge. I’m fixed on the sight when he says, “You mean to fuck, you’d best come over here.”
Stunned by his directness, I almost laugh because it’s not said out like that. Men just don’t do that, but here’s one saying come get me, and I’m thrown. The kid gets this, and when I’ve done no more than raise up, he undoes his pants and pulls out a hard prick that shines wet. He takes it in hand, smears the stuff down the shaft, and starts working himself. “Your need is drifting over here like smoke, so let’s get on with it.”
I stand, unbutton my pants, and get free of my underdrawers. He glances at what I’ve got, then takes off the rest of his clothes. When he’s full naked, I find myself still not in a rush, which I like, waiting being as new as him. I kneel beside him, run a hand from his middle up to his chest, rub soft skin and hard tit nubs, feel his grit and muscle. And I bend down and lick his chest, then run my tongue toward his privates and into his hairy patch. He spreads his legs, raises his knees, and I get around between them to his balls, suck one into my mouth. He moans as I tongue the thing, then let it go, lick him between the two, knowing all the while his bottom hole is right there for the taking.
He makes no move toward encouragement and I get that he likes a man to lead. I sit back to strip away my shirt, then stand to take off the rest. How good naked feels. Evan studies me up and down before I stretch out atop him, hard dicks between us, wetting our belies. I look into his eyes as I began to grind against him.
His eyes are bright, like he just woke, and he runs his tongue along his lips, which sends a bolt through me and I press harder onto him. Then I do it, get my mouth to his because I can’t not. I’ve never kissed any man, but that doesn’t matter now and I know this like I know how to ride and shoot. I’m starting fresh, and as my lips remain fixed to his, I feel his tongue come looking for mine. I allow this, tongues playing together, but then he starts to wriggle under me and he sucks my tongue as he spurts.
We kiss all through the come, and when he’s done, he lets go of my tongue, but I don’t let go of him. Hungry for his feel, I stay on him, tongue after his now, and I corral the thing, suck on it, which near does me in. I have to fuck, so I roll him over, get in at his bottom, wet him with his own spunk, put my prick into him, and ride like hell. Off in the night I hear a coyote howl and I think I could almost do the same.
It don’t take but a minute for my juice to rise, and as I let go into the kid, I also let out a roar because I feel more beast than man, not caring if I ever walk upright again. But then I’m done and I slap Evan on the butt as I pull out. Soon as I’m free of him, I want back in, but that’ll have to be later.
When he rolls onto his back, grinning like no tomorrow, I am taken all over again by his look. I get my bedroll and put it next to his, then lie on my side with a hand on him, rubbing him all over while he does the same with me. I’ve no idea how long we’re like this, but in time, he’s sucking at my tit and pulling my dick, his own up again. We sleep little, pass the night slopping around in a wallow of our creation, poking and prodding, licking and rubbing, and finally fucking again. We don’t talk much, but I don’t care on that. Something is between us now, no matter what.
At dawn, we feed on each other, him lying in reverse so he can get to me as I get to him. Breakfast is spunk. When we finally stop, smelling of sex and sweat, Evan crawls up and lands a kiss on me and I don’t put him off.
* * * *
Riding on to Kettner, I think on the look-see we need—how the bank is set up, how many doors, clerks, and such. Best time to rob a bank is noon, as it’s less populated then, most off to take a midday meal. Our last job went that way, bank down in Tilson Corners, one lone clerk and easy pickings, but that money’s run out and what Evan paid in won’t last.
We go easy, making good time, and I’m aware of Evan and me paired now, consider he thinks the same. This makes me feel good and I stretch in the saddle, look at the bolt blue sky, which comes down to scrape the flat like a knife. Morning air is cool, horses frisky, like they know something’s ahead. I glance at Evan again, then remind myself to think on the bank.
We arrive in Kettner around noon, leave the horses at the livery, and walk through town like any two men off the range. Well-populated and a bigger place than I expected, there’s two banks, one at each end of town. Evan says Bart studied which is best, and we linger across from that one to watch people go in and out.
I like the feel I get when looking toward a holdup. No outlaw will deny the adventure of such an undertaking. Gets your blood up so much, you ride away feeling like you’re about to come. Then, when you’ve outrun or outfoxed any posse and get to where you can stop, the feel in the gang is high, which leads to much drinking and serious carousing. This we do in a distant town where we’re not known, ridding ourselves of much of the loot all too quick. Wade and me go at each other something fierce soon as we’re in private, both so worked up we come not once but twice. Always great satisfaction after a job.
Now, Evan catches sight of a lawman. “Marshal Paul Rhodes. Known to be a fair man, has but one deputy.”
The fellow looks as much an undertaker as marshal, black hat and coat, tall, and lean to the point it appears he’ll soon be in need of burial. He glances into the bank, then passes on by.
“Wait here,” I tell Evan and I cross the street.
Inside are three people doing their banking and one goes out as I come in. A single clerk works behind the cage, and past him I see two desks, a safe, and a single door, likely the manager’s office. Banks are mostly the same, bigger or smaller versions of what lies before me. I pick up a pen and do some writing at one of the tables so as not to draw attention while, after some observation, concluding that this bank is a rich one. Customers are well dressed, mainly businessmen who could be merchants or mine owners. There are questionable types as well, gamblers or pimps, their money just as good. Sodbusters are not to be seen as they’re too poor for a bank. When I’ve gotten
all I need, I go back to Evan.
He stands leaned against a post out front of a dry goods store, watching me cross to him. I slow my pace to keep the connection because it’s just that, eyes upon one another, knowing what we know, what we did and will do. When I reach him, he’s grinning and I can’t help but smile, too. “Let’s get a drink,” I say and we head to a saloon.
“Look okay?” Evan asks as we have a whiskey.
“Perfect. Should be a snap.” He beams like he’s arranged it all, so I add, “Good work in bringing it to us.”
Now that the bank job is set, I need not think upon it, and so I turn to pleasures of drink. And Evan. I ask questions to keep his attention and he answers them all, then turns table and asks about me. We’re at the end of the bar so nobody hears. “You ever been with a woman?”
“Nope. Never inclined that way. You?”
“Wondered sometimes because the men chase after them so much. One time, Bart got me drunk and took me to a cat house, got me in with a woman, but I didn’t do nothing. She was paid for so didn’t care. Bart thought I did it, which was okay as I didn’t want him on me about that stuff.”
I’d had no brother to press me in any direction, just hearing Pa going at Ma in the next room, which roused me because I’d seen Pa’s big thing and thought not so much about where he was putting it as it being hard and in use. Once off on my own, I found how men could be with men, how some would have a woman and turn around and have a man. Working ranches and living in bunk houses, it wasn’t long before I put my dick to a good many. They liked my look, me being tall and dark-haired, handsome a few had said, and with Pa’s big dick.
“Plenty of men around,” I tell Evan, “and a man will let you get nasty, and ain’t that what we all want?”
Evan proceeds to tell me about his first time and I see he enjoys working himself up. Me, too. We drink some more, and after a while, I say I’ll get a room upstairs, which I do. I take him there, undress him, and do him standing at the bedpost. Maybe it’s the liquor, maybe being in a room all our own, but it’s a hell of a good one, him spraying his stuff just as mine shoots into him. And when I’ve come, I ride his bottom till I go soft, then put him on the bed and suck his wet cock.
When he’s come twice, he falls asleep while I find myself awake, enjoying us in bed together like we belong. I fix on how we’ve claimed one another, and not just our dicks. The whole of me feels more in his presence, like some part of me has gotten inside him and some part of him is in me. And these parts mean to stay.
* * * *
A couple hours later, he wakes hungry, and we go downstairs for a meal, then walk around town as the evening is pleasant. The whole time I keep thinking on what we’ll do back in the room and how good that knowing is, but also how it feels with him at my side right now, walking together. Couples pass us, men and women, and I consider how the man puts it to the woman and so must be feeling as I do, going to get into her because she’s his. I glance at Evan, who I now consider mine.
We down a few whiskeys in the saloon, unnoticed by one and all, just two more cowpokes wetting away the dust. But as we stand at the crowded bar, Evan slips a hand to my crotch and prods. I can’t help but grin because nobody knows what’s between us, and this secret makes it all the better. I don’t even want to hurry as I like this play, and I get in closer to him, talking on nothing while he rubs me. Nobody sees what’s going on, all too busy with their liquor. Finally I can bear it no longer, tell him I’ll shoot in my pants if he doesn’t stop, so we go to our room.
We hardly get in the door when we are upon one another, but I find Evan not so easy as before. Not that I don’t like what he does. He claws at my shirt till I get it off, and he starts sucking tit while grabbing at me, like he’s gone sex crazy. I look at the golden curls bobbing at my chest, rousing me something fierce, but I let him do as he wants. I manage to undo my pants and get out my dick. He then surprises me further by dropping to his knees and taking me into his mouth, sucking my thing as if he can pull the come out, which he just might. His tongue runs up and down my shaft, he’s licking and pulling, then gets a hand under my nuts and squeezes them while he’s on my dick. There’s nothing I can do but let go in his mouth. I think to warn him it’s coming, but words fail me. I buck as my spunk shoots into him and he doesn’t pull off. Instead, he swallows it, keeps at me, drawing the last drop. Even when I’m spent, he still sucks as I stand weak-kneed with satisfaction.
Finally he lets go, sits back, and grins, licks his lips like he’s finished a meal. I pull him to his feet and cannot stop myself from putting my mouth to his, even though I know my spunk is in there. Never done such a thing, but that doesn’t hold me back because everything is new with this kid. He brings up stuff in me I didn’t know was there, and I get my tongue into him, find his, taste my own salty spunk.
Evan gets his dick out while I’m on his mouth, pushing down pants and drawers. I back off, strip naked as does he, and we fall onto the bed where I’m thinking to suck his cock, but he doesn’t let me corral it. Instead, he tries to get around behind me. This causes some playful wrestling, which I like, but he keeps rubbing his dick down where it doesn’t belong, and I finally strong-arm him. We’re both powerful worked up, but I tell him I don’t take no cock up the ass.
He snorts a laugh and says what no man ever has: “That’s because of how much you want it.”
I am atop him, arm across his throat, and for a second, I mean to crush his windpipe, put an end to such nonsense. He shows no fear, just keeps looking at me like he can see into my head and I’m not sure I like that, him getting so far inside.
“Every man wants a dick in him,” he says while I consider killing him, “whether or not he’ll admit it. Don’t mean he’s less a man. Maybe means he’s more because he’ll do everything he can and there’s pleasure to be had back there if you just let me in. Butt hole is made for more than shitting.”
I think on how many men I fought off when young, hard dicks poking at my bottom. “No,” I tell him, shaking my head. “No.”
“You’re afraid you’ll like it,” he says, and now I really want to kill him. I press on his throat. He chokes some and I let him think he’s a goner, then ease up. He sputters and coughs, and when he can speak again, he asks, “Why are you so angry with me talking about it?”
“Because I’m the one who says what I do with a man.”
“You’re acting an old man, afraid of something new.”
“Ain’t new. Men been butt-fucking since all time and I’m the one doing it.”
“Why do you think they let you do ‘em? Because it feels bad?”
I let him up, tired of his talk. He keeps a hand on his hard prick and says not another word, so I get down and suck the spunk out of him, wishing he hadn’t wrecked things with his foolish actions and more foolish words. After I swallow his stuff, I get dressed and leave him, go downstairs, and drink myself blind.
I hear his low snore when I come back to the room. It’s well past midnight and I have the staggers, couldn’t fuck for love nor money, so I strip and get in bed to fall asleep, wishing I could ride him raw just to let him know who’s boss.
* * * *
Next morning, I wake to his wet dick against my leg. My head hurts something fierce, so I lay quiet, liking the feel of him up close. When he sees I’m not making a move, he slides his prick up my butt crack, while his arm goes around my chest. I tense, which leads him to try and soothe his way in.
“Just lay still and let me do it. You want it, all men want it. Let me fuck you.”
He’s rubbing my tits and kissing my neck and, as I remain badly hungover, my resistance is not as it should be. I also have to admit it feels good to let him do things to me, so I lay still as he continues.
“Easy, easy,” he says when I flinch at him prodding me.
His sound is welcome amid the pain in my head. With his cockhead at my hole, I reach the final moment and it’s then I find myself knowing how much we belong t
ogether and how that changes things for the better. He pushes at me and says to trust him. There’s nothing urgent to what he’s doing; he’s not having to drive into me, he just takes his time, the whole thing slow and, if such a thing can ever be easy, easy.
“Now,” he says.
I feel pain as his knob pops into me. He says it’s okay, it will feel good in with the bad, and I should relax, open to him like he does to me.
“Let me do to you what you do to me.”
His mouth is on my neck, breath hot on my skin, and I want to turn and get at him, but he keeps on, keeps me aroused, licking my ear, whispering about fucking me, then his cock pushes into my chute. I suck in a breath because it hurts like hell, but in with the hurt is a feel I could not have imagined, one nasty and urgent at the same time, because what I’m full of ain’t shit for once, it’s dick, and I remind myself my man is up there and we’re doing what we usually do, only the other way around, which I have to admit is fair.
Then he starts to work it, to pull out and go back in, and I know how good that is, sticking it to a man, so I get how good it is for him, how he’s worked up and wanting to come in me, while at the same time, I’m full of dick and it’s touching places I didn’t know I had. When he starts going faster, I find myself further aroused and I hold my throbbing cock while thinking how I drive the come out of him when I’m inside, so maybe he’ll do the same with me.
He’s going fast now, pumping like mad, saying all sorts of dirty stuff, then “oh shit, oh holy shit” as he’s lost to his release. When he’s about beyond himself—a feeling I well know—he rolls us over so he’s on my back and he rides me hard now, slapping my ass as he drives his stuff into me. As he does I come into the bedding like some kid, going off something fierce, at it front and back. He goes till empty, then quiets to lie atop me, his dick sliding out when it goes soft.
Finally, he pulls out and rolls onto his back. “Shit, that was good.”