The Return of Jake Slater

by Zavo

  “Show me what you can do, boys. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were brothers.”

  Monty paused in his licking and looked me in the eye.

  “Let’s give him a show he’ll never forget.”

  I figured to myself, what the hell. It could be my last time to enjoy a man.

  “I’m with you, Monty.”

  He turned onto his side, swung around, and rose to his knees. His face was in my crotch and his dick was staring me in the face. It was fully hard and very fat. The large head was free of its skin covering, and leaking its early fluid. I licked the swollen knob before swallowing as much of it as I could. I began bobbing on Monty’s cock as he did the same to mine.

  “Suck it, Ben.”

  He peered upside down at me, almost making me laugh and choke on his dick. He watched a moment longer, and then resumed sawing on my stiffer. His mouth was warm and wet, and I began pumping my hips slowly to match his bobbing head.

  I heard a loud moaning. I turned my head slightly without releasing my prize. Rawlins was thoroughly enjoying our show.

  He was stroking his pole vigorously with his left hand, while in his right he held the pistol. A fleeting thought went through my mind about the possibility of the gun going off and hitting me or Monty. Then I thought, who cares? I was going to hang in Abilene anyway. Probably so was Monty. His skillful mouth and tongue were quickly bringing me to an enormous explosion. In return, I was sucking the young outlaw’s cock for all I was worth.

  Suddenly, my mouth was filled with Monty’s seed. I began swallowing it greedily. I took it all as he moaned, the sounds muffled by my prick lodged in his throat. On his next upward plunge, I returned the favor, emptying my own juice inside his mouth. When we were both spent, I licked Monty’s cock clean. He swung around again, crawled to me, and kissed me on the mouth. It was then that loud cries came from Rawlins’s direction. When I turned to him, I saw thick ropes of spunk erupting from his cock and puddling in the hairs on his stomach. When he was spent, he scooped it all up with his fingers and ate it, licking each finger clean.

  “Thanks for the great show, boys. Now, get your clothes on, pronto. We need to hit the trail again. We’re only two days from Abilene, give or take a few hours.”

  When we were all dressed once more, Rawlins shepherded us onto our horses. He trussed us as before and we set off at a fast clip. It was obvious the sheriff was eager to reach home. We stopped once that afternoon to water our horses. It was then that a heavy sense of doom settled over me. I’d been fighting it since leaving Silverton. If we were indeed only two days from Abilene, then Monty’s and my chances of escaping from Rawlins were growing slimmer by the minute.

  We choked down some hardtack and water from the canteen and rode till dusk in complete silence. We made camp in an old stream bed, with high rock walls hemming us in. A short bank of sand extended several feet from the walls before gently sloping down to the old bed. Rawlins ordered us to dismount and then he tied us back-to-back on the sandy bank. When he was done he picketed the horses a short distance from us. As Rawlins started a fire I noticed the sky was growing ominously dark. When a small blaze was burning, Rawlins approached us.

  “I don’t know about you boys, but I’m sick of hardtack and biscuits. I have a big hankering for some fresh meat. I’m going to do a little hunting up along the stream bed. Don’t wander off while I’m gone.”

  He laughed at his own joke as he headed up the stream bed. He quickly disappeared from sight. After several minutes, an eerie silence fell upon us. Monty was quick to break it.

  “Ben, I think you’ll agree with me that Sheriff Rawlins is pretty much crazy.”

  I thought about his statement for a moment, the events since I had met Jake replaying through my mind rapidly.

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it, Monty.”

  Maybe it was the loss of Jake, combined with the fact that I was pretty sure I was going to be hanged when I got to Abilene. I found myself opening up to this handsome stranger. As my tale spilled out of me, he listened in silent, wide-eyed wonder. When I had finished, he let out a long, low whistle.

  “Ben, everything you just told me confirms what I said. He is plumb loco. We need to get away from him before we reach Abilene. Once there, I’m certain we’ll have no hope.”

  “I agree, Monty. I’ve been keeping my eyes open for any chance of escape since we left Silverton. But Rawlins is taking no chances. He will be the big man in town once again when he returns with me in tow. You’re just sweetening the pot.”

  “Well, Ben, there’s two of us and only one of him. I’d say it’s obvious he’d like to get inside either one of us. I’m pretty sure I can get him to untie me for a nice go-round, if you know what I mean.”

  “After everything he’s done, I’m not willing to do that, Monty. Even if it means my death. But if you’re game, I’ll help you however I can.”

  “Our time to get away from him is growing woefully short Ben. I don’t see that we have that many choices. I’m willing to risk his affections if together we can turn the tables and somehow get the drop on him.”

  “Okay, Monty. Here he comes. I wish you luck.”

  When Rawlins returned to camp, the sky was the color of a bruise. He had two large jackrabbits, which he quickly skinned and started to roast on the small fire he made. When he had eaten, he brought us bits of rabbit.

  “A bad storm’s brewing, boys. Better hunker down.”

  A crack of lightning and a boom of thunder accented his remark. It was then that Monty made his play.

  “Sheriff Rawlins, may I have a word with you. Alone.”

  Rawlins stared suspiciously at both of us.

  “I don’t like the idea of untying you, Summers.”

  Rawlins had stopped calling him Jackson.

  “I assure you, Sheriff, I will make it worth your while. You saw what I did for Ben.”

  A smile lit up the sheriff’s face. Maybe he was getting too secure in thinking we were dispirited. Added to the fact that he was probably horny as well, and he let his guard down. Just as Monty had anticipated.

  “All right, I’ll untie you and we’ll go over by the fire. Don’t try anything funny, or you’re a dead man for sure.”

  As he untied Monty, more lightning flashed, followed by loud thunder. A soft rain began to fall.

  Rawlins escorted Monty to the fire at gunpoint and ordered him to shed his clothes. When Monty was naked, Rawlins quickly undressed and spread his blanket by the fire. He never once took his eyes from Monty. The sheriff was already sporting an enormous stiffer. Without waiting for an invitation, Monty knelt in front of Rawlins and began bobbing greedily on his stiffer. I had to admit, he was really putting on a show.

  My own cock was soon squirming for release beneath my denims. It was soon evident, however, that the sheriff had something else in mind. He turned Monty around and forced him onto his hands and knees. He retrieved a small leather packet from his saddlebags and spread some of its contents between the cheeks of Monty’s ass. He also applied some liberally to his cock. I wondered if this was as close to genuine affection as the man ever got. He knelt behind Monty and I heard Monty moan as Rawlins entered him. Their bodies glistened from the rain.

  After a few minutes, it was as if the heavens burst open. The rain began to fall harder, obliterating the fire. It also hid the two men from view. Except for the frequent flashes of lightning, it was becoming hard to see anything. I heard Monty moan loudly once more and then there was silence. After a while, I heard the sounds of a struggle, followed by muffled noises and then a single gunshot. After that, silence reigned once more, punctuated by increasingly loud bouts of thunder.

  A flash of lightning revealed a figure struggling toward me through the driving rain and the swirling, swiftly-rising river. It was Monty. He was dressed and soaking wet. As he crawled back up the bank, the rain was coming down in torrents. The lightning and thunder crashed incessantly overhead. Water was beginning to swir
l past us along the stream bed, and it was continuing to rise quickly. In it were limbs, small trees, and even several small animals.

  Monty untied me and then sat next to me. He leaned into me and shouted to be heard above the noise of the storm. Blood was running from the right corner of his mouth.

  “What happened, Monty?”

  “Rawlins is dead. He was careless, and while he was pounding into me I managed to grab a rock and hit him over the head. When he pulled free of me I hit him again, and then finished him off with one of his pistols. I’m guessing by now he’s being swept along with this flood. We need to get out of here, or we’ll be next. The horses have already run off.”

  I was too stunned to say anything. While this had been the intended outcome, it was hard to believe it had actually come to pass. But I had little time to dwell on the matter. The rising water was now swirling at our feet. We would need to make a break for it, and soon, or be swept away in the burgeoning flood.

  “We can’t cross this stream, Monty. We’ll drown!”

  “Then we’ll just sit tight right here, Ben, till the storm is over.”

  It seemed like the rain went on endlessly, as did the lightning and thunder. I watched the rising water rushing past us and wondered if we should make a break for it while we had the chance. We watched helplessly as the rushing water quickly and efficiently eroded the bank beneath us. We were both gripping bushes that grew out of the rock face; it seemed to be our only measure of hope. Just when the rain seemed to have concluded its ceaseless pounding, and we could relax our grips, the downpour increased. The river before us was almost up to our waists.

  I could feel my hold starting to slip on the bushes. That’s when a sound came to my ears, one that even carried over the noise made by the falling rain and the rushing water around us. I could scarcely see several feet in front of me when, suddenly, the bank gave way beneath my feet. I instinctively reached for Monty. He reached for me as well, but before we connected, he disappeared from sight beneath the muddy water. I had no time to think about the young outlaw as I, too, was sucked into the maelstrom. I tried my best to swim with the current and avoid the rushing debris. But the current was just too strong for me. I was swept away like a piece of driftwood. I felt something strike me in the back of the head, and a blackness enveloped me.

  I woke to a gray dawn, cold and shivering. My head was throbbing unmercifully. Upon closer examination, I found a large bump on the back of my head. When I checked my hand, my fingers were spotted with blood. I was lying in a meadow that was littered with trees, branches, bushes, and the carcasses of several animals. To my left was a swath of destruction where the stream had veered in that direction, gently depositing me where I was lying. The dawn slowly broke around me. The only sound was a few birds chirping in the sagebrush overhead. I stood on trembling legs and began to examine myself for broken bones. I took a few tentative steps and, without warning, I emptied the contents of my stomach beside me.

  I was soaked to the bone, but I was certain I was in much better shape than either Rawlins or Monty. I surveyed the area, looking for any signs of life. I saw no signs of movement. I began walking along the bed the flood had left. After an hour or so I came upon two bodies. The first one was Sheriff Rawlins. He was naked and his body was covered in mud and grass, and badly bruised. His face was twisted in his death grimace. A hole was in the center of his forehead. After all he had put me through, and what he had done to Jake, I felt no pity for the man. The world was a better place without him.

  The second body was about a mile farther. It was Monty. Even though I had only known him briefly, a wave of sadness washed over me. He had a large purplish lump above his right eye, and his left leg was twisted at an odd angle. Obviously, it had been broken. Some debris in the flood must have struck him in the head. The young outlaw had gone out of his way to help a total stranger. If it hadn’t been for his courage, I wouldn’t be a free man now. It suddenly struck me: I was a free man. One that needed to get away from this area pronto! I sat down by Monty. I had no illusions that my troubles with the law had been wiped out with the death of Rawlins.

  According to Monty, we had only been a day’s ride from Abilene. Obviously, I needed to head in the other direction. Jake and I had never had any time to make plans for the future. But one thing was certain: there was still a price on my head. I was certain Rawlins had notified someone at his office that we were on our way. Twice he had gone to telegraph stations when we had come across towns big enough to have them. When he didn’t arrive, they would set out in search of him. As long as my body was not found with the rest, it would be assumed I was still alive. My likeness would continue to adorn wanted fliers, and I would be a hunted man. I needed to leave the States and head to Mexico. Many outlaws did, because lawmen from the United States could not legally enter Mexico. I chided myself for my thoughts. I was not an outlaw.

  As I stood there in the pre-dawn light, my decision was made. I set off in what I knew was the general direction of the Rio Grande. I would leave the United States and make a new life for myself south of the border. My leg hurt, but at least it was not broken. I collected several dead rabbits I found amidst the debris. Around noon, I veered away from the stream for the first time. I needed a place to start a fire and cook the meat: raw rabbit was nasty under any circumstances. I had just spotted a path leading away through the bushes, and started on it, when I noticed horse tracks in the mud. I slowed down and proceeded cautiously. When I came around a bend in the trail, good fortune was smiling on me for the first time that day.

  Rawlins’s horse was standing before me in a small patch of grass beside a gurgling stream. He was grazing contentedly as if the events of last night had never happened. He was a little skittish when I approached. After murmuring a few soothing words though, he allowed me to grab hold of his mane. Other than some mud and a few scratches, he didn’t seem to be the worse for wear. I let the horse continue to graze while I slaked my thirst at the stream. The water was cold and delicious. I made a small fire and skinned the rabbits. Soon the smell of roasting meat was making my mouth water. I ate every possible bite, and drank from the stream once more. I let Rawlins’s horse drink a final time. I carefully mounted him so as not to spook him, and headed out at an easy gallop.

  I rode for several hours, stopping only to drink and water Rawlins’s horse when the chance arose. It was late in the afternoon, and I was starting to feel the effects of the sun. I had to find some shade and lay low for a while. As I topped the crest of another endless sand dune, I spotted a small pool below. It was surrounded by a short expanse of lush grass and several large jacarandas. I kicked the horse in the flanks and we started off at a gallop down the hill. I dismounted at the pool’s edge and let the horse drink before I did. Once I had slaked my thirst, I shed my clothes and dove into the pool. It was wonderfully refreshing. I did several turns around its perimeter before I crawled out and lay in the grass at its edge.

  The sun felt good as it dried my body. Before long, despite my present circumstances, my dick was hard and begging for attention. I spit into my hand and coated my stiffer. I began long, slow strokes, starting at the root and cupping the head at the end. Once there I went back down again to start the ritual over. As usual, my thoughts turned to Jake, and I pretended it was his hand on my pole. My hand moved faster and faster. I felt my explosion beginning and I cried out as the first blob shot forth and landed in the hairs of my stomach. More and more of the stuff shot out, forming a small pile. I had just scooped up part of it and was letting it fall onto my tongue when I heard the unmistakable cocking of a rifle. I turned to find a man a few feet behind me with a rifle pointed at me.

  “What are you doing on my land, stranger?”

  Chapter Four

  Jake

  “Don’t stop on my account, Nathaniel. It looked like you were just getting to the good part.”

  A look of shock was on Nathaniel’s face. Seth’s registered pure hatred.

 
“You won’t get away with this, Slater,” he snarled. “We’ll track you down, no matter where you go. You will hang for sure. There will be no trial needed this time!”

  “Shut up, Rawlins. Ezekiel, find some handcuffs for our friends as well as something to gag them with. Nathaniel, wipe your mouth off. And have your friend stow his dick.”

  Surprisingly, both men did what they had been told. The tone in my voice did not leave room for any backtalk.

  While I kept them covered, Ezekiel rummaged in the desk drawer. He discovered two sets of handcuffs and two dirty bandanas.

  “Both of you turn around,” he ordered.

  They did as directed, and Ezekiel quickly cuffed and gagged them.

  I grabbed two pistols from the gun rack on the wall. I handed one to Ezekiel, along with bullets. When we both had loaded our guns, we turned to our captives. The hatred in their eyes was palpable.

  “Now, gentlemen, both of you get on back to the cells. We’re going to lock you in and hightail it out of this godforsaken town. And don’t try any funny stuff, either. At this point, if I put a bullet in one or both of you, I have nothing to lose.”

  It was evident that they believed I would do just that. They nearly tripped over one another in their eagerness to back up to the second cell. As they did they both saw Deputy Higgins, who was now awake and struggling at his bonds. Once both men were inside the cell, I steered them over toward the cot and ordered them to sit down.

  I closed and locked the cell door and followed Ezekiel down the hall to the main office.