Show-Offs, page 15
We got our pants and under drawers off entirely as had become our practice. I took him standing the first time, both of us looking down upon the men. “Not much going on,” he said as I pumped in and out of him.
“Plenty up here,” I noted just before I came.
I turned my face to the sun as I emptied into him, catching not only the sun’s rays but some of nature’s sweet air. I felt I had gone to heaven by way of Duane Shafter’s bottom.
Once done, I pulled out and we sat awhile. The men were quiet below, bathing or lazing. “You know they all need a fuck,” Duane offered.
“Looks like you’ll have to go down there and do it,” I replied.
“Tempting.”
Just then Reed Wooley and Kurt Lovell began to splash one another. “Look, they’re starting up,” I said.
The two romped some, churned up the water, then quieted. “Lovell is pulling Wooley’s dick,” Duane said.
“That he is. And Wooley has hold of Lovell. Can’t keep their hands off a dick, be it their own or a friend’s.”
At this Duane reached for mine and I got a hand onto his and we sat playing with each other awhile before I was stiff again. I then put him onto all fours, turned so he could still see down below, and managed a good long fuck.
By the time we reached the Cimarron River, the cattle were unruly from hot weather and lack of water. Two of the usual watering holes along the way had dried to mud, which was a disappointment. A steer can go a couple days without water but they become a danger because soon as they smell it ahead, they run for it. Many a herd has stampeded for no reason but a shift in the wind.
I made sure the men were sharp and in full force as we neared the Cimarron, extras on point and alongside. Didn’t matter. Twenty-five men and two thousand head of thirsty cattle are no match. I was up front when they broke and no matter our efforts, they went all directions until we had nothing resembling a herd. The only good part of this kind of break is they all ran into the water. The bad part was they lacked room and thus some trampled their brethren while others ran up river and down river, getting into rougher places where the current swept them against rocks and drowned some. We reached the river at nine in the morning and did not get the herd to the opposite shore until dusk. There was no stop for dinner and no thought to personal needs. Every man made every effort to get the cattle across, even when they would not budge.
We were all soaked by the time we had a herd again. While the men quieted the cattle, Duane and I rode up and down river to count the number lost which came to twenty-six. There were always losses on a cattle drive. Twenty-six was not bad.
The cook was the only man not chasing steers so he made us a fine supper, even as he complained at having no help to dig his fire pit and bring him wood. “I don’t want to hear it,” I told him, “else next time you’ll be out there with us.” That settled him down considerably.
Ma Nature was at least kindly toward us in leaving the night warm so we could remove our wet clothes and set them out to dry. Those with spare shirts could change but most, me included, had but one pair of pants. Stripping these off, we remained in under drawers, which gradually dried. We were a sorry-looking bunch, most in drawers that had seen too many days.
Duane and I had now made it a habit to lay our bedrolls alongside each other and away from the men. While they slept on one side of the chuck wagon, we sought the other and none dared to question the arrangement. When night fell this particular time, there was no campfire and no socializing. Everyone was too tired to care. By the time the cattle lay down to sleep the men had long been snoring.
As we had no visual entertainments, Duane and I had taken to pulling each other’s dicks in the dark of night. Nearly a month into the drive, we had become much attached. Now we lay working each other.
Duane’s breathing soon began to pick up and he started bucking, then muffled a squeal as he let go his load. He stopped pulling me as he did so, then once he’d quieted he got back to it. When he had me near the peak, he suddenly threw off my blanket, crawled over and took me into his mouth. I held back a cry as his tongue and lips worked my prick to a frenzy. I then began to spurt and he took it all, swallowing as if he could not get enough. When I had finished, he gave my cockhead a last lick, then lay back down.
“Christ, Duane, what was that?”
“If you don’t know…” he chuckled.
“I mean what are you up to? The men might see.”
“See what? The moon is a sliver. We’re no more than shadow and besides, they are all asleep.”
“Still, if someone woke and happened to look our way he could see. A head bobbing on a dick is noticeable even in shadow.”
“Well then, I am sorry I sucked your prick,” he replied in a huff.
“I don’t mean it that way so stop carrying on. I just don’t want the men seeing us get up to it.”
He said nothing more and I held off pointing out he was pouting like a baby. Next morning he was up and gone before I opened my eyes. “We gonna lay over?” he asked when I rode out and found him and several others pulling dead cattle from the river. We wouldn’t take time to bury them but at least we could prevent them fouling the water.
“No, not with dead animals around,” I told him. “We can lay over at the Red River.”
“That’s a good ten days.”
“Yes, it is,” I said. I then rode off to scout our next location, which I would have done the day before had things not gotten out of hand. Fortunately, a spring up ahead was down but not out, leaving enough to water us all but not much more. Didn’t much matter as nobody seemed to want to get wet. The spot had sparse grass in a split between low hills but not a tree in sight. Camp was made, the cattle now quiet, and Duane and I again pulled dicks under the stars.
When I rode ahead to scout the next day’s noon stop, he asked to come along. We rode at a good clip until we reached Copper Springs where the water was gone.
“Need rain,” he offered as we looked down at dried mud.
“Well, thank you for the enlightenment.”
“Nobody saw,” he then said, going back to a closed subject. “If they had seen there would be talk.”
“How do you know there isn’t?”
“I keep an eye out.”
“It was a foolish move.”
“You didn’t exactly put me off,” he noted.
“Well, Christ, no I did not. A man ready to come is not rational and you were counting on that. Next thing you’ll want me to fuck you right there in camp.”
“Not there but how about here?” he said.
“You are shitting me.”
He hopped off his horse. “Right here, between the horses, do it standing. You know you need it much as me.” Here he undid his pants and pushed them down. His dick sprang up and he grabbed it. “Get down here and fuck me, Bud. Else I’ll be pestering to suck you in the night.”
I looked around. Though in the open, I saw not man nor beast nor even bird. And Christ, I did want to do him.
We stood between the horses, him with his hands on his saddle, legs spread, me going at him with a fury. The horses snickered and snorted, their own cocks likely hard at the smell of sex. I did not take long as I was pent up and when I let go I raised a cry, such was the release. Duane had a hand on his dick and seconds after I’d spurted he did likewise, calling out he was coming, swearing some, then lost to the spew.
When we had emptied I wrapped my arms around him and nuzzled his neck. “Fixes everything,” I said.
“For now.”
“You are a greedy man, Duane Shafter.”
He reached back and tugged my dick. “I sure as hell am.”
We rode on some miles but found no good water and sparse grass so I finally called it and we galloped back to camp. Supper was over but the cook had saved us steaks, biscuits and gravy, which we wolfed down. That night Duane did not suck my cock.
We were fortunate to find water the day before we hit the Red River, thus the cattle did not break and run as before. They crossed the river most orderly, which cheered the men to such extent they sang around the campfire after supper.
“We’ll lay over a couple days,” I told them, which got hoots from all. “Almost halfway now and you boys have done good work so you can have a rest.”
The Red River was my favorite as it ran into little eddies that were ideal to laze in. Those wanting brisk water had only to move down stream to find rocks that set the current churning. Trees lined the shore, offering welcome shade, but there was no bluff on which to play around with Duane.
As before, the men bathed in shifts and as before, I rode down to watch. The urge was well upon me when Duane rode up and said to follow him.
“There’s no place around here,” I told him.
“There is up river.”
I had my eyes on Lovell and Beck who were in an eddy having a fuck. “Just a minute,” I said, nodding their way.
“Beautiful sight,” Duane observed as we shared the spectacle.
“You are right in that I do need more than looking,” I admitted when the men finished.
We got away maybe a quarter mile up river. Here it quieted alongside a sandy shore, trees curtaining it from sight.
“You can’t see the men from here,” I said.
“That all you want?”
Duane was off his horse and stripping naked before I could reply. “Get down here and let’s do it in the water,” he said. “Nobody is up this way.”
I looked around. He was right. He seemed to have a natural ability to scout places to fuck. “Undress,” he coaxed as he slipped into the water. He paddled out and lay floating on his back, dick up, and I could not resist. I undressed and waded in, then swam out to grab his cock, which made him playful. We splashed and grappled until I could stand it no longer. I pushed him to the shallow, which was maybe a foot deep, got him onto all fours and shoved in.
As I rode him I decided we could laze the afternoon here and fuck to excess because one was not going to be enough. And I wanted to suck his dick, maybe while he sucked mine, and maybe even get my tongue up his crack. The need to wallow was upon me.
My juice boiled at such thoughts and I started to pound his bottom just as a commotion stirred nearby. As my stuff began the rise a calf burst through the trees and into the water not twenty feet away and behind it two of my men in pursuit. Their horses splashed into the water, then stopped, but I kept on pumping, not giving a damn at being seen as I needed to come. Shooting my stuff into Duane, I kept on until satisfied, even as the riders stopped to look.
It was Wayne Zeder and Johnny Roop doing their job rounding up strays, and as I pulled out of Duane I had no idea what to do. I stood up and found Roop looking down at my prick, much as I had looked at his. When he began to grin, I saw we had a fair exchange of places, him gazing upon my privates instead of the other way around, and so I allowed him all he wanted. I even reached down to tug my dick, which made him yank his reins, his horse snorting at the intrusion. Duane, meanwhile, was on his feet and looking from the men to me and back.
It crossed my mind, since we had been seen in the worst way, that we might throw caution to the wind and invite the boys in for who knows what. As I looked at Roop who still feasted on my naked body, it sounded a good idea but before I could speak, Zeder said to Roop, “C’mon, we should get back. Leave the boss to his business.”
When they’d roped the calf and ridden off, I had to laugh. I grabbed Duane and pulled him into the water. “What’s so damned funny?” he asked as I got him into my arms.
“Only fair they get a look,” I said. “I’ve been watching boys for eight years. Guess it’s their turn.”
“You were on drives before that,” Duane noted. “Bet you did a lot of looking early on.”
I thought back to my first drive at eighteen when I was wide eyed and ripe. My knowledge of men began on that trip, putting it to another drag rider while on night guard. We did it standing between the horses, both of us covered in trail dust. This recall now played before me like some dirty show and I was grateful for the view. It had not occurred to me to look back since my job was always looking ahead and I found I had missed something in failing to consider myself. I had a well-muscled body and good prick which Duane now began to tug. I got my hands onto his bottom and as I slipped into his crack, I let my younger self play along. I kept the image running as my finger pushed into Duane’s hole and I wondered what all we would see next.
NAKED SUMMER BLUES
Ron Radle
They were an odd couple physically—but in a good way.
Tyler Patrick stood just over six feet and had short brown hair, a goatee and the build of a college heavyweight wrestler. He was obviously and openly handsome, the most conspicuous features of his face being his large brown eyes and wide, smiling mouth with thick lips. His partner, Cole O’Neal, presented an opposing portrait in good looks: he was five eight with thick blond hair that he wore past his ears; startling, steel-blue eyes and a mouth as wide as Tyler’s but more comical than sensuous—although its sensuous possibilities were ample enough. His features were offset by a frankly large nose that curved down from the edge of his forehead and drew to a thick point over his mouth. It would be an attractive feature as long as he was young; when he got older it might prove, like his mouth, more comic. He was almost as solidly built as Tyler, and actually better defined, his torso a hairless structure of smooth muscle. I would say that neither of them could have been more than twenty.
I learned their names in the short time it took us to become friendly. We were neighbors of a sort. We shared adjoining rooms at the Tropic Isles motel in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, a place valued more for its convenient distance to the beach than for any other amenities. I had been coming down to Myrtle Beach and staying at Tropic Isles for a few years by then. Alone but not always alone. The first few times, I vacationed with my lover, who was more of a mountain man than a beachcomber and never cared for the sunny sandiness of the beach. When we broke up, I continued the tradition alone, but I enjoyed the freedom.
My introduction to Tyler and Cole came wordlessly. I had seen them go in and out of their room and heard them padding around. They had nodded a curt hello to me, which I returned. Then late the night of their arrival, I was awakened to the sound of a regular knocking against the wall that divided our rooms, and of men’s voices in conflict, or what sounded like conflict. After clearing my head, I realized they were not fighting, but fucking. Their voices took on all the old familiar commands of heated lovemaking—Don’t stop! More, more! Yeah, that way! Oh, baby yes! Fuck me harder!—punctuated by each shouting out the other’s name. That was the end of sleep for me. I spent the rest of the night listening to them cavort through the wall for hours. Oh, youth! At twenty-eight I wasn’t sure if I could keep it up as long as they were. I took advantage of the situation, though, by taking my own cock in hand and stroking it to the rhythm of their rutting. And, hours later, even after I could barely eke out a last, pathetic dribble of cum, they were still going strong.
The next morning we happened to be leaving our rooms at the same time. They were dressed in flowery shirts and shorts and flip-flops, as was I. We smiled awkwardly at each other. Then I went ahead and said what was on all our minds: “After last night, I would think you boys would be too exhausted to leave the room.”
They eyed each other and laughed.
“Were we too loud?” Tyler asked sheepishly.
“Sorry,” Cole offered.
“No, no, it’s all right. I enjoyed it almost as much y’all did.” They eyed each other again with guilty grins. “In fact I’m surprised I can leave the room. Y’all put on a hell of a show. Felt like I was right there with you.”
“Sorry,” Cole said again. His magnificent blue eyes were a reflection of the ocean just below us.
“We’ll make it up to you,” Tyler added ambiguously, and my knees went weak.
That’s when I found out their names and that they came from the same part of South Carolina as I did, the northwestern upcountry. They were celebrating the end of their first year in college with this beach trip. When they were done telling, they looked at me out of curiosity. It was my turn to spill the beans about myself. I told them I was general manager for a well-known chain bookstore in one of the biggest cities in the state. The boys’ aptitude for academia became clear when they wrinkled their noses at hearing where I worked.
“Don’t worry,” I assured them quickly. “I don’t have to read the books. I just have to sell them.”
They seemed relieved, but I was disappointed. No matter how far and wide I looked, I probably never would find their elusive combination of brains and brawn.
We parted ways after an awkward pause, but I didn’t completely lose sight of them. They parked their towels and drink cooler not too far from me. This proximity gave me the chance to study them without being too obvious. They shed their shirts after a while, and right away I felt a stirring in my crotch at the sight of their young muscles. After a while the hot summer sun and my own lack of sleep conspired to make me drift off into a pleasant reverie…
Tyler and Cole were crouched on their knees on either side of me in the sand, buck naked, feeding their considerable hard, young dicks into my starving mouth. I alternated from one cock to the other, back and forth, licking and sucking wildly, my hands occupied with each set of balls, squeezing them to a point that should have hurt them but, in my fantasy, didn’t. Meanwhile they reached down with one hand each to jerk me off together and to return the same abuse to my balls, and it wasn’t long before the three of us were quivering, electrified flesh, the sperm-spark igniting in our nuts and zapping to the stem of our pricks. The boys groaned first and fired their thick loads onto my face and chest and into my hair. Then I let loose, and my cum spurted like a geyser. They dropped on top of me, and we mixed fluids while kissing and laughing…
