It was brazen of him to come into a town as a wanted man and the law enforcement part of me believed I should quietly pull him from his game and cart him to jail. But the hard-dicked part said to wait awhile and enjoy the heft down below, and I had learned not to ignore that part.
I wondered, did he fuck his cohorts? They looked older, but then maybe he just looked younger as he had a timeless quality. Too bad he was destined to die young. It would be interesting to see one such as him an old man.
When he and his friends got serious with their cards, they had been drinking for some time and soon came the expected argument. Drunks always found fault with losing and when one jumped up and sought his gun, I stepped in and knocked it from his hand.
“You there, Paulie Creed, you are a wanted man and I am taking you in. Your friend here can go on his way. You men clear out. Creed will not be leaving with you.”
Creed grinned and gave no resistance as he stood. Scruffy as hell, he looked to have been on the trail a month, which I suppose he was. I took him by the arm and led him outside. He was not so drunk as to stumble, and he allowed himself to be put into a jail cell then begged for water to wash. The request amused me enough to comply.
“You got Paulie Creed?” asked my deputy, Carl Conlon, when he came in.
“Yep. Playing cards at the Silver Dollar like he’d never done a single wrong.”
Carl looked through the window into the back, then came over to me. “I hear he’s a cut up.”
“I hear he’s a killer.”
“Well, yes, but he is said to be likable. That’s how he keeps on the run, people helping him out.”
“Go back out around town,” I said. “Keep things quiet. I’ll stay here tonight.”
“Yes, sir. Good night.”
Globe, being a small town, had just one deputy for me but we did fine between us, handling drunks mostly and claim disputes. The jail cells were in a room behind my office, the door between having a window that bore a shade that could be pulled down. I could thus look in on a prisoner, though there was little concern of escape as the walls were adobe and the one window was near the ceiling. Alone, I busied myself at my desk but found I could not settle and so I took a peek at Creed. To my surprise he was buck naked.
Though not tall, he was sturdy, a hard life adding muscle to his frame. He was browned all over, which surprised me as most men’s under parts were stark white since they seldom shed their clothes. The sight of Creed sun-colored set me to wondering if he ran bare at times like some animal on the plain.
He had his kerchief in the basin and squeezed it out, then ran it over his body. His back was to me and I saw him run the kerchief onto his buttocks, then between them, and once he’d gotten this part clean, his finger stole back to get into the crack and play around. My mouth fell open at the sight and my dick rose up in approval.
He spread his legs and half squatted, then stuck a finger up his butthole and began to work himself, at which I let out a gasp that he must have heard as he looked back over his shoulder and grinned. He did not stop his prodding as he squirmed upon the digit and I saw his other hand engaged up front, which proved too much for me. I opened the door and went in. When I reached his cell, I saw him working his prick with a frantic pull while still poking his bottom. Then he looked at me, let out a laugh and began to spray come. I fixed on the sight, my breath all but gone, my crotch afire. When he’d pumped out all his juice, he pulled out of his backside and stood, holding his softening prick.
“Soon as I get clean,” he said, “I want to get dirty.”
Words failed me. I could not stop looking him up and down as he stood grinning and holding his dick. I scoured legs covered in fine golden hair, thighs thick from long hours in the saddle, a patch of gold between them and more of it running up his front to where it spread across his chest. It was fair enough so I could see his pink tit nubs and my gaze lingered there as I thought what it would be like with my tongue on one. As if to read my mind, Creed ran a hand up and began to pinch the thing.
When I looked upon his face I found his mouth open and his tongue out, wiggling as if to beckon me. His expression was dead serious now. He knew what he was doing to me and that I would have to unlock the cell, go in there and fuck him. As I sought the key, I wondered how many lawmen had succumbed to such promise.
I locked the door to the office and pulled down the shade though I did not expect Carl back this night. Didn’t matter. If the Marshal was going to be fucking his prisoner, he’d best not be observed. I drew my gun, unlocked the cell door, put the key into my pocket and stepped in.
“Lemme see,” Creed said soon as I was inside. “I figure the marshal is going to have a big dick.” He continued to pull on himself and I saw his thing was starting to fill again. Such a blatant arousal further agitated me though I tried my best not to reveal my anxiousness. I then began to undo my pants, which I found near impossible with a gun in hand.
“Why don’t you put that down,” Creed said. “I am not about to run from a fuck.”
He had a point. I set the gun on the floor, undid my pants and got out my prick. I was proud of my size and most men I did commented that it filled them and then some. Creed looked down and clicked his tongue as you do to get a horse moving. He then got onto the bunk and stuck his bottom up at me.
I shed my gun belt, pushed down my pants and drawers, got in behind him and drove my prick in to the hilt. I then began a fuck that could not be held back. Too worked up to last but a few strokes, I came such a gusher that my entire body reeled from the release, my heart pumping as much as my dick. Breath escaped me as I rode the tawny bottom and Creed made me welcome by way of squealing as he took my juice. When I was done I pulled back and sat on my haunches, trying to regain some air.
Creed flipped over to show me his stiff prick and he opened his mouth again, tongue beckoning. I got the idea and bent over to take his cock into my mouth, sucking with a fury until he spurted into my throat. When I pulled off after this, I fell back onto the bunk, leaning against the wall, bottom half still bared in a very unmarshal-like manner. Thoughts were fleeting as Creed crawled over and began to run his hand up under my shirt. He found a tit and began to tweak and rub. “Why don’t you shed the rest,” he suggested, and I was powerless not to do as asked. A minute later, I was fully naked, lying on the bunk while he played with my tits and I with his dick.
When he got his lips onto the nub, I got a hand onto his bottom and put a finger up him. He squirmed in welcome, so I added a second and began to work him. In response, he grabbed my soft prick and began to play around with it. Soon we were writhing on the bunk, him licking my chest, me wanting to get into his ass again. He then pulled off my tits and got down to my dick, pulling it into his mouth, which caused it to rise. I had to force him off else I’d come in his mouth and, pretty as it was, I preferred to spurt my stuff into his passage.
This time I put him onto his back, threw his legs up over my shoulders and drove into him with such force that the bunk gave way, some part of it falling down a couple of inches which I figured just short of total collapse, but I did not care. I would fuck on the floor if it failed. I would fuck until he was raw, as my juice was boiling and I needed to come so badly I ached.
It took longer this time, which did not matter as I wanted to stay inside him, taming the wild boy the only way possible. He made it plain he was eager to be had, rolling his eyes, thrashing his head from side to side, sticking that tongue out and moaning something awful. This drove me crazy yet in my frenzy I managed to consider that we, going at it, had traded places, me the wild one, him the prey. Never had I felt so unleashed. Never had any man brought me such molten urgency. I needed to possess him until I expired, if it came to that. I would fuck him the whole night and again in the morning. He would keep my dick stiff by way of that mouth or that body, and there was still much I wanted to do to him.
At last the rise beckoned and I began to thrust in earnest, pounding him as he fixed hi
s eyes to mine. He grinned as he drilled me a most eager look, telling me by way of his eyes that he wanted me to fill him with spunk and keep on filling him. I then hit the peak and cried out, the come a long one, as if only Creed could fuel me so. I pounded his bottom until I’d emptied, then fell back and slipped out. I let his legs down but crawled on top of him. I put my mouth to his, even as I fought for breath, because I had to have that tongue and those wicked lips. He was most ardent and receptive and as we descended, we began to ascend for I could not leave off him.
I had no idea the hour and could not have told the day, such was my need of this creature. The fact that he encouraged me to partake of more and more drove me to an excess I could not have imagined. Soon we stank of sweat and come, yet I licked his every inch. And when I got my tongue onto his back, sliding down to taste his buttocks, he reached back and pulled them apart, inviting me to do the worst. “Lick me,” he urged. “You know you want to. Stick your tongue in and taste your cream. I guarantee you’ll never get enough.” His pucker began to wink at me and he chuckled as he worked the muscle. I ran a finger up his crack and rubbed the place where my dick had gone.
“Go on, lick it. I can feel the want coming off you.”
He was right. I had feasted on every part of him except the place I most coveted and the more I looked, the more I realized it was my greatest desire. I was beyond myself now, a frenzied beast sliding into a wallow, eager for filth. My mouth was open, my tongue out like a hard prick ready to fuck. And that, I realized, was what it was about to do. I knew that once it touched that pink pucker, it would shove in just as my dick had and it would give him what we both wanted.
When I touched the tip of my tongue to his hole he let out a squeal. I could feel him with a hand up under himself, milking his prick for surely he had more spunk in him. Young men have a supply beyond belief, as I well knew, having enjoyed excess in my own youth.
I began to lick him like some dog going at his own bottom and the mere act of touching the filthy hole fired me. I hesitated but seconds before descending into a slopping that finally was not enough. Frantic to slake the awful thirst, I pushed into him and found a bitter taste yet I did not recoil. I accepted the foulness as fitting the depraved act, and I began to do with my tongue what I had with my prick.
As if to get deeper into his chute, I plastered my mouth to his buttocks, which I held wide. I then speared him deep as humanly possible. As I went at him, he cried out and I knew my eating his hole had driven him over. As he bucked and came, I held on, going at him until my jaw ached so much I had to quit.
Soon as I pulled out, he rolled over and sprang up to get his mouth onto mine and he sought my tongue with his, eager to taste his own filth. As he did this, he found my cock up again and he began to pull me as we continued the terrible yet wonderful kiss.
At last, I spurted what seemed the final drops of my lifeblood, which allowed Creed to ease his efforts and fall back. I in turn slumped onto the bunk. He purred like some big cat as he lay down across me. I was completely drained of all desire and much of my substance, feeling more like some dirty puddle than a satisfied man. We were in darkness now and I had no idea the hour, nor did I care. Sleep beckoned and she was every bit as alluring as Paulie Creed. As I shut my eyes, my last sight was Creed’s beautiful smile.
“Marshal,” somebody said. “Marshal, wake up.”
I could barely rouse my eyelids, much less the rest of me. Feeling as wrung out as a Sunday morning drunk, I allowed enough light to find Carl Conlon standing over me. “What?” I demanded, not yet aware of my circumstance.
“Creed is gone,” the deputy said.
This sent a jolt through me and I raised my head to look down upon my naked body. A host of swearwords came to mind, but I uttered none as embarrassment hit me like a flash flood. I sat up, reeling, and Carl handed me my under drawers. “Get out of here,” I commanded. “I’ll see you in a minute.”
He seemed relieved to be dismissed. I could not begin to imagine his mix of horror and amusement at not only finding the prisoner gone but his boss laid out naked. I got into my clothes, finding as I did so that my gun and the cell key were gone. I did not strap on my gun belt but carried it out into the office where I got another gun from my desk, holstered it and put on the belt. Carl had his back to me, busying himself to spare me further distress. As I attempted to regain some measure of the dignity due my position, I realized I should get up a posse and go after Creed. I also knew Carl would expect to be a part; Carl, the only man who knew how I had been bested. Knowing men love to jaw and Carl one of the best, it would not be long until all of Globe knew Creed had escaped by way of my dick. All I could ask was for my deputy to hold back the worst.
“Carl,” I said and he turned.
“Yes, Marshal?”
“I have been compromised in the worst way any lawman can possibly be and admit it my own fault. I let base instincts get the better of me but I am asking you now, as both deputy and friend, not to reveal it to anyone. Bad enough Creed escaped but if the how becomes known, I am ruined in law enforcement. Would you please not reveal the details? Tell them he got the drop on me and nothing more. Can you do that for me?”
Carl was a good man with a wife and two kiddies and I saw him consider the situation just a second before agreeing to do as I requested. “You are a good man, Carl. I will not forget this.”
“Are we going after him?” he asked.
“You and I will ride out and look around, but I do not wish to find Paulie Creed. You understand.”
“I surely do.”
Now, as I lie in my room and pull my dick while replaying every minute of that night, I gain little relief beyond the momentary spew of come. Though it is a gusher that leaves me sweating and spent, Paulie Creed is back upon me the next minute, beckoning from Robber’s Roost or some other outlaw camp, loot from the bank job spilled on a blanket. It is then I allow that the marshal who failed to pursue him four years ago has become the sheriff with new responsibility. Though suffering a stiff dick at the mere thought of the outlaw, I accept that I must go after him.
Spunk is all up my front and as I sit up and throw my legs over the bedside, I think how it’s the best come I’ve known for a while, but then Paulie Creed does that to a man. I wonder how many other lawmen have failed as I did, not to mention how many outlaws have celebrated Creed’s robbing with a good fuck.
When I return to my office, I tell my two deputies I’ll be getting up a posse to go after Paulie Creed. “He always favored Charleston and Globe. We’ll try both, see what we can dig up. I’ll go round up a couple more men as Creed is said to have two others with him.”
Prestige had come with my election as sheriff of Cochise County. My reputation as marshal of Globe helped make me a good candidate, as Carl Conlon kept his word and never told of my embarrassment. I recommended him for the marshal’s job when I left there, and he was duly appointed. Now I have two good men as deputies and for the posse I get two others I know to be good shots. Next morning we tie on our bedrolls, fill our saddlebags with ammunition and head to Charleston where Creed is known to have friends.
Riding hard toward our destination, I suffer a churning of the stomach at what I will face should I catch my prey. His golden curls and boyish face, all grins and mischief, might well be painted to my eyes but his body affects me lower and thus I suffer as we head to Charleston. When we get there, I go into the Rawhide Saloon as I know the owner, Chuck Fraser. It takes only minutes to learn Creed was through two days before, flush with money and cutting up like usual.
“Try Globe,” Fraser suggests. “I hear he likes it over there.”
As night is coming on, we make camp and I sleep fitfully until, in the cover of darkness, I get out my prick and have a pull while thinking on getting it into Paulie Creed.
Going to Globe the next day is not easy. Though a fine little town, it holds the low point of my law enforcement career, never mind only one man knows the truth. I too know
it and riding in and having folks look at us brings back that morning when Carl Conlon found me naked. I make myself inquire around town but discover nobody has seen Creed. Finally I go over to the marshal’s office where I find Carl talking to his deputy.
“Harlan,” he says, springing to his feet, hand outstretched. “How the hell are you? Jim, this is Harlan Hurst. Used to have this job back before he became sheriff of the whole damned county.”
I shake the deputy’s hand and he then departs. “Have a seat,” Carl says and I settle opposite him. He remains behind his desk.
“Place looks the same,” I note.
“Pretty much. We’ve got more people leaving than coming in as the silver is playing out. Saloons keep us afloat.”
“I have a posse with me,” I tell him. “We are after Paulie Creed who robbed a bank in Benson and killed two men.”
“I heard he was back,” says Carl. “Did a stint in prison once, didn’t he?”
I nod. “Didn’t do him much good.”
Carl studies me as we speak, the secret between us sitting there on the desk as naked as I’d been. Finally I make mention. “You kept your word on what happened and I am grateful,” I say.
“You are a good man, Harlan,” he replies. “I would not have wanted to damage your chances.”
“Well, thank you again.”
“How is it, though, going after Creed now?” Carl asks.
I have put this question to myself with every mile we’ve traveled but do not know the answer. Thinking on it as Carl waits leads me to enlightenment. “Good and bad, I suppose. I want to see justice done, but I know him to be a danger to me and I don’t mean gunplay.”
“A danger you do not wish to face?” Carl asks. “Or do you?”
As the man who has seen evidence of my depravity, he has a right to probe and so I answer with as much honesty as I can muster. “He is my devil,” I say, “and you know how a man sometimes opens his arms to Satan. I both fear and crave him.”
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