Cowboy Roundup

Roughshod by Dale Chase

Roughshod by Dale Chase

I was doing well at poker in Tombstone’s Oriental Saloon when the young fellow sitting to my right started going on about the dealer cheating. It annoyed me that I couldn’t assure him he was mistaken because doing so would reveal my fine array of cards. I hoped he’d quiet down so I could claim the pot, but this was not to be. Damned if he didn’t keep on ranting at the dealer, gaining in volume as he heated up. When he jumped up and drew his pistol, I jumped up too and knocked it away. This sent him reeling for a second before he sprang at me, fists flying. I put an end to this with a serious gut punch, then turned to the game and laid out my hand. When I’d scooped up the money, I bowed out and saw to the kid on the floor.

He was dazed, but took the offered hand and let me pull him to his feet. I located his weapon, but didn’t give it back to him. Into my belt it went. And outside we went.

“You’d have killed that man,” I said once we were out front of the saloon.

“He deserved it,” replied the kid who couldn’t have been even twenty. “He was cheating.”

“You ever stop to consider you’re maybe not so good at poker?”

He lit up with fresh anger that I found appealing. “You ever think to mind your own business?” he returned.

“You’d be in jail about now if I hadn’t stopped you. And I had a winning hand, so I don’t believe the dealer was a sharp. I stopped you because I didn’t want the game overturned which it would have been had you continued acting trigger happy.”

Now he blazed. It was a warm July afternoon and he lit up like the sun itself, going red in the face, breathing heavy, fists clenched. Goddamn, I wanted to f**k him, but I settled for buying him a drink. When he bristled at the invite, I made light of the situation. “Calm down,” I said. “It’s too fine a day to be upset about anything. I’ll buy, seeing how I won.”

He drilled me with a look, and I saw he was suspect of good gestures. “What’s your name?” I asked as I guided us up the block to Hafford’s Saloon.

“Ben Wylie,” he said. “You maybe heard of me?”

I pondered a second, then said no. “How are you known?”

“Killed four men.”

He was slight of build and stood maybe five foot eight so he didn’t come off as a threat, though I knew from experience that men of small stature were often the most deadly. I wasn’t too much bigger, being a lean five-ten. What I had on him was about ten years. And I’d killed twelve.

“You on the run?” I asked.

“My trouble was in Kansas so I came west. I’ll take no guff from any man.”

“I’m getting that, but have no fear. I’m an easygoing sort who appreciates interesting company. Name is Cal Decker.”

We reached Hafford’s just then, but I found as I entered that I’d lost Ben. He stood fixed just outside the door, people pushing past. “I’ve heard of you,” he said when I went back for him. I put a hand to his shoulder and drew him inside.

“No doubt you have,” I replied.

He downed two whiskeys before he spoke again, and I let him stew because I was enjoying him gaining new perspective. I also enjoyed my d**k getting stiff. As I sipped my liquor, I considered how he might come two or three times before I wore out.

“You’ve killed a dozen,” he finally said.

“That I have.”

“Then what right had you to stop me from plugging that gambler?”

“No right, as you put it. More common sense. I felt you heating up and, as I said before, I wanted to keep the game going.”

He threw back his third drink and got a fourth. “Best you slow down on that whiskey,” I counseled.

“Best you not tell me what to do.”

I liked his fire, misplaced as it was. He seemed angry at far more than cards, and part of the attraction was considering the source. Too often a wronged man holds tight to the wrong and it starts coming out in other ways. Like shooting people, although not in my case. Every one of my dozen was ruled justified by the courts as every one had drawn on me. My crime has been pissing people off.

“How about I buy you supper?” I said and I saw he had to decide if this was an intrusion. When he said okay, I felt we’d bridged a gap, though maybe not with the most sturdy of bridges.

Five whiskeys rendered Ben somewhat pliable and over supper he told of his Kansas upbringing on a cattle ranch. “Learned early on to ride and shoot,” he said.

“That your work? Cow punching?”

He cut a bite of steak, chewed, and swallowed it before answering. “I left that life at fifteen. Been on my own ever since.”

“How old are you now?”

“Nineteen.”

“Why’d you leave?”

He cut several more bites of steak and ate them slowly, occupying himself rather than answer so I attempted to backtrack. “I know how it is,” I said. “Sometimes you just have to break free and find your own way.”

Still he didn’t speak and I got that he’d been driven off by recall. I wanted to apologize for stirring things, but held off as it might make things worse. We finished the meal in silence.

It was when I picked up the check that I caught Ben’s eyes on me with such intensity that it crossed my mind he might want to kill me so he could claim my dozen men with his four. Not a clear type thinking, but one I’d run into before. It was a deadly look, and blazing hot. Gone the effects of his liquor. Whatever I’d stirred, it was dangerous, so I moved with caution. I paid the check and we walked out into a fine sunset. When I turned to go up the block Ben fell in beside me, and as we went along he said the damndest thing. “You want to get up to something?”

I almost laughed, such was my relief. Before I could speak he added, “I’ve got a room at The Grand.”

We walked to the hotel in silence and by the time we went into his room, I’d decided my gunslinger reputation was working in my favor, that and my being fine looking. Soon as the door closed, Ben stripped. I wasn’t so hurried and enjoyed watching him as I slowly shed my duds. He brought back memories of that early urgency, of getting hard at every turn and coming all over the place. By the time I got down to drawers, Ben was standing naked, stiff c**k in hand.

He was a beauty, lean and still filling out. Dark haired, but fair skinned and near pretty. It occurred to me, as I gazed upon him, that the anger he carried was indeed likely due to a man having wronged him.

He watched me finish stripping and when my hard c**k was freed, he stared at it. I got how he wanted it up him, how he needed hard riding, and I was the man to do it. “You surprised me,” I said. “The way we started out, I didn’t figure to be in such favor.”

“You figured wrong.”

Here he fell to his knees and drew my rod into his mouth, then set to proving himself an expert cocksucker. I stood with hands on hips, looking down at him going at me. I hadn’t been worked so good in some time. Finally I eased him off. “You keep on, you’ll get my load in your throat and I’d rather put it up your ass.”

I gave him no time to comment, just pushed him to the bed, got him on all fours, wet my d**k with spit, and drove in. He let out a yell at being speared, while I got from the very first that this was more than the usual f*****g around. Something about this hotheaded kid captured me, and I set about enjoying that fact while taking pleasure in f*****g hell out of him. The great surprise was him being a talker. Soon as I set to riding him, he began to spew. “f**k me, f**k my ass, choke me with c**k, f**k my s**t hole, get it up there, f**k me.”

It drove me crazy and I went full out which got me to come way before I wanted. But come I did, giving him a load that I attempted to drive up into his mouth. I pounded his sweet ass until I ran dry and went soft. I then rolled off onto my back, gasping for breath.

“You come?” I asked between gasps.

“Hell, yes,” he replied. “Puddle under me.”

I opened my eyes as he rolled onto his side and there it was, thick and white, a goodly amount on the bedding. I blew out a breath and ran a hand down to his c**k, feeling stuff on the knob. “One fine f**k,” I declared and Ben leaned in and replied, “Need more than one.”

“Sonny, I’ll f**k you raw if you give me time to recover. We got all night.”

He issued a sigh, rolled onto his back, and we lay quiet for a bit which I didn’t mind as I liked his company. Funny thing was, he’d run his mouth with a d**k in him, but went the other way once it was removed.

Too often I’ve f****d and run, taking pleasure, then done with the fellow. I’d almost forgotten what it was to linger with a man and savor the promise of another go. I took pride in knowing I could handle this, though I’d seldom put it to practice, at least with another party. A man such as me, having no fixed home, often finds his hand the sole companion. I’ve been known to come two or even three times when bedded down alone beside a fire on the open range.

After a time I got up and washed so I could get dirty again, and when I found Ben watching me clean up, I made a show of it, handling myself while his d**k rose up. A fine sight, fellow coming up hard at no more than the show you put on. I decided I’d suck his c**k, seeing how mine needed some rest.

Once clean, I sat on the bed and played around with him. He was most willing, and once I set to sucking him he started orating again. “Suck my d**k, suck me good, Cal. Take it all. Drink my come then eat my ass. I want that bad, Cal, want your tongue up there where your d**k’s been.” On and on he went until he shot a load into my throat amid much squealing and crying out on what he was doing. When he went quiet, I rolled him over and had me a filthy meal.

I’d only eaten ass a couple times as it was downright foul, but with the right man, especially one who begged it, I was willing to descend into the wallow. When I parted Ben’s butt cheeks, his hole winked at me, and I ran a finger over it which got more prodding. “Eat me,” he said. “Eat my ass.”

I licked like some dog, working myself toward the awful thing I was about to do. Putting a tongue up an ass is as filthy as you can get, which Ben reminded me. “I want it nasty, Cal. Goddamn, get in there.”

He was pulling his c**k and that, plus his demand, got me moving. I stuck my tongue in and started giving him a little f**k. This not only fired him to serious jabbering and faster d**k pulling, it drove me near crazy. My spent c**k announced itself resurrected far sooner than expected, so I tongue f****d him while doing much growling and snorting. Then he called out he was coming and I kept at him until he settled. Soon as my tongue withdrew, in went my prick.

I wanted to tell him what he’d accomplished, but had no words. I was gone on the f**k, single minded now, pumping away, and knowing the rise might be distant. The spunk in him served me well, a wet slap our sole accompaniment once Ben quit talking. Sweat flew and my breathing became labored with the long ride, but there eventually came the drawing up and firing and I cried out on this. Ben returned that he wanted me to fill him. I rode to exhaustion, then fell off, and recall no more because sleep got me.

It took a minute to fix on where I was when I woke, but once established I sat up to find a new day and not a trace of the man I’d bedded. I got up and stood in the room’s middle, turning round and round in search of a clue that he remained. When I got none, I sought the piss pot where, floating in soiled water, I found the sole evidence of Ben Wylie. Before I let go a stream, I stood wondering if a man leaving you nothing but s**t is sending a message.

It was not the day I expected. The night’s excess had led me to believe I’d wake to find Ben beside me, d**k hard, and I’d f**k him and then get breakfast. Now I moved about uncertain which annoyed me no end.

“Fool kid,” I said to the mirror. I then laughed, catching just who was the fool.

I had no plans, being recently arrived in Tombstone, so I sought the day as if there had been no disturbance. I’d simply enjoyed a longer version of the usual s*x. I’d get breakfast, walk around town, then settle in at cards. And if I found another agreeable fellow, I’d f**k hell out of him.

I wasn’t looking to find Ben Wylie which, of course, set him in my path. When I came out of Pearl’s Restaurant, full bellied and feeling lucky, I’d gone not ten feet when the kid all but ran into me. He was going along with way too much purpose, head down like a charging bull. “Hey,” I said as I pushed him to one side. “Watch where you’re going.”

When he slung an arm at me I grabbed it and twisted him around to pin him against a post. “Easy, sonny,” I counseled as I held him fast.

“Get off me,” he demanded.

“You settle down and I might. What’s got you so riled?”

“None of your business.”

I laughed, then leaned in and put my mouth to his ear. “Look here, Ben, I’m the fellow who’s had his tongue up your ass, so you leave off saying I’ve no business. Now what’s got you?”

“Let me go and I’ll say.”

I backed off and he turned around, showing more of that fire he carried. I waited while he silently fumed and when nothing came forth, I prodded. “What is it?” I asked. “You lose at cards again?”

“No,” he snapped. “Fellow owes me fourteen dollars and won’t pay so I went after him, but others stepped in and he got away.”

“You wave that gun around again?”

“I was ready to draw if he didn’t come through,” Ben explained, “but his friends pulled him away, making excuses for him. I’ll not be put off. I mean to get my money.”

“Honest money?”

“I’m no thief. He borrowed and won’t pay me back.”

“Fair enough,” I declared, “but try to stop short of killing him. You had breakfast?”

“I have.”

“Why’d you run out on me this morning? I expected to get another taste of you.”

The flush of his upset deepened as he searched for a reply, and I almost wanted to take back the question, seeing how it cornered him. “We was done,” he finally said.

“Fair enough,” I replied. “Of course, that doesn’t mean we can’t start up again.”

I could see him wanting to flee and took it as a compliment that his manly occupations overpowered whatever worry he carried. Why some men couldn’t shed those objectionable parts of life was beyond me, but I’d seen it before, this unexpressed moan, this ache that made itself visible. The trouble this time was Ben had an itchy trigger finger. Also that I was too much taken with him.

“Did you check out of the Grand?” I asked, wanting to fill the silence.

“I did,” he replied. “Took my things down to the livery. I’m leaving soon as I get my fourteen dollars.”

“Where you headed?”

“North,” was all I got.

“I’ve got a room at the Cosmopolitan,” I said. “How about we go over there and have us another go. Give you a sendoff, seeing how you’re leaving.”

I hadn’t engaged in such pursuit for some time as I’d been content to f**k in alleys and barns and wherever opportunity presented itself. Quick and dirty works well, but when a fellow such as Ben Wylie steps in and stirs parts too long neglected, a man presses on because the reward is truly fine.

Ben considered me and I liked him taking my measure, so to speak. I sport a good head of dark hair, close cut beard, trim mustache, and eyes one man said near made him come. My mouth has also proven adequate in d**k sucking and there have been no complaints on my equipment, beyond a couple fellows staggering away while saying they’ll not sit comfortably for a time. I was confident Ben would give way once more. Which he did.

While I like a kid coming all over the place, I also want him to learn the pleasures of slower practices so once I’d f****d Ben good and he’d sprayed his stuff on the floor, because I did him standing, I laid him out and proceeded to lick and play over his every inch. He resisted at first and I almost asked who’d ruined him because it was clear I brought on powerful recall. But even though he retreated in some way, he gave over at the same time, and I’ll give myself credit on that. I sucked his tit nubs at length, nibbled his neck and ears, got my tongue in under his arms, and worked down to his toes which I sucked. He whimpered when I went around his privates and I lay my cheek on his thigh and told him how fine his body was and there was more to s*x play than just d**k and butthole. “I like the whole man,” I said. “Like your every inch and I’ll get to your bottom in due time. We’ve got all day if we want, and I do want.”

I enjoyed his hands on my back or whatever part of me he could reach as I quietly devoured the whole of him. And he soon stopped his squirming and settled into the play, near floating on the bed as I licked his calves and in behind his knees. When I rolled him over he began to beg me to eat him again, but I didn’t do that. I ran a couple fingers up him while nipping his bottom and he got a hand under to work his c**k. Knowing he wanted pay dirt, I reamed him until he cried out and came, and when he was done I kept the fingers working to show him I meant to keep on going.

I finally licked my way back up to his ear into which I declared him a tasty morsel. He was so undone he simply purred. I then rolled him over and kissed him. I could hardly recall the last time I tasted a man this way. Nobody much bothered with it, but then most cared only to unload and move on. As my lips met Ben’s, the idea of his moving on was far distant.

He responded fully, tongue going after mine, and I got he was well practiced at intimacy. I was unexpectedly stung by a moment’s jealousy of the man who took him so fully and wronged him so badly, but this jealousy quickly gave way to pleasure in the present.

I purposely didn’t let this kissing become urgent as the satisfaction I sought wasn’t a passing sort. I wanted to possess Ben Wylie, keep on with him long as I could, never mind he said he’d move on. With encouragement such as presently undertaken, he might not go.

Parting my lips from his, I looked into his eyes where I found the blue of the sky. He met me on this, but what he brought wasn’t what I’d sought. Absent the fire, his gaze bore a touch of sadness that I couldn’t chase off, no matter how hard I stared. Still, I pressed on. “You’ve captured me, Ben,” I said. “You may not have meant to, but you have.”

I gave him no time to reply as the last thing a man in my spot wants is an argument. I kissed him again, gently, tongue exploring, and when I eased up on this I kissed his cheeks and forehead and eyes, kissed on down his neck. Funny how quiet intimacy can rouse a man. I sometimes forget that as I’m too often thinking with my d**k. Then, on these rare occasions, I slow down and savor a man and feel a rise that begins not in my nuts, but in a place deeper, heart maybe, though it feels more gut. My whole body stirs, muscles tensing, skin pulling taut, and the slumbering d**k can’t help but wake and go along. So, after a period of this gentle intimacy, I had my c**k good and hard.

Ben was now fluid in my hands. Gone the kid looking to make tracks, and I couldn’t even imagine the hotheaded trigger happy fellow I’d first encountered. He lay with arms at his side, willing to give whatever I wanted, and I feasted on the sight which led to the need to f**k.

I lay out beside him, on my back, and pulled him over onto me. “Sit up,” I said with a little push. “Straddle me.”

This he did, his expression that of a happy drunk. He sat on my chest, my stiff prick behind him. “Climb onto me,” I said. “Raise up and drop down on my c**k. f**k yourself with it.”

He grinned and did as told, plopping down so hard I let out a moan. He got what I was about and set to rocking on me. It was now my turn to display the want. I reached up to take him at the waist, urging him to raise up which he did and when he dropped down I ascended to heaven, surely I did.

Soon he was riding me at a good clip, bouncing on my d**k and pushing away my hands when I tried to keep hold. He resembled a man astride a bucking bronc, which he furthered with some shouts and a yee-haw or two. His grin made it all the more and he looked happy for once.

Just as the quiet intimacy had taken over my body, so did the f**k, and when I felt climax beckon, it was in the whole of me. Buttocks, thighs, calves, feet, arms, neck, you name it and it tensed, readying for what felt to be an explosion, and then it hit and I cried out as I couldn’t be contained. My prick pumped long spurts into him and he called out he felt it go up his passage.

When I finally emptied, my muscles remained taut, and it took a minute for the effects to subside. I doubted I’d ever come in such a manner and I pulled Ben down on me, my spent c**k sliding out, and I kissed him again. “You sure you have to leave?” I asked at which he kissed me.

I thought we’d settle in after this, bask in having done all we did, but Ben was not one to go easy. Something in him refused to give way, likely the part that drove his trigger finger, and I saw I’d not tamed him. Foolish of me to think my attention could get him past whatever held him captive. He never answered my question, and after a time of lying quietly, he got up and dressed. When I made no move toward cover, attempting to entice him by handling my d**k, he gave just a glance before pulling on his boots.

“We’ve got a good thing going,” I said. “Why not keep on?”

He had no answer and for a second I was sorry I’d pressed. He looked lost now, more boy than man, and I wanted to tell him we’re not all shitheels, but I just lay, pulling my d**k. He said not a word before he went out the door.

“Well, goddammit all to hell,” I ranted when he’d gone. I got up, pissed, washed, and when I caught myself in the mirror I scolded. “You goddamn fool,” I said to me. “Leave off him. Leave the hell off.”

When I emerged from the hotel I considered Ben Wylie gone. He’d declared himself ready to leave and I pictured him rushing headlong down to the livery, mounting up, and riding north like he’d said. I went to the Oriental Saloon, figuring to get drunk. I was well along in this endeavor when shots were heard. Gunfire is common in Tombstone, yet I sprang to attention. Ben, I thought as I rushed outside.

A man staggered across the street, light from a store showing us the red blotch at his middle. He looked down, as if he couldn’t believe himself struck, and he put a hand to the wound, trying to stop the flow of blood. Standing not ten feet away was Ben, pistol in hand. The shot fellow managed to speak and Ben replied, but, of course, it was too late for words. Ben was soon going to claim five lives instead of four. When the fellow dropped to a heap, Ben ran and I passed but a couple seconds before I did, too. My action was foolish, but a driven man cares little on judgments, even those issued by himself. I couldn’t let Ben get away.

He ran toward the livery where his horse stood ready, and I followed, though my animal was standing about at leisure, unsaddled, the things he usually carried—bedroll and saddlebags—in my hotel room. I couldn’t light out after Ben without fetching my possessions, yet still I ran, as if I’d go without. When I reached the livery, there came Ben flying by, horse at a gallop. I watched him ride off, then told the liveryman to saddle my horse and I hurried to the hotel to get my belongings. I did manage to slow myself to a brisk walk as I didn’t want to be seen tearing after a fellow who’d just shot a man. Nor did I want to be seen chasing a nineteen year old and me thirty-two. Still, my blood rushed like I’d pulled the trigger.

The walk back to the livery, saddlebags slung over my shoulder, bedroll under my arm, took an eternity as all the while I considered Ben on the run. Knowing how such pursuit feels, I felt akin to him, but maybe this was anticipation as I’d soon be the one chasing him. The law would likely get up a posse, but I’d be ahead of them, having no idea what I was about. Catch him and then what?

My horse often proves himself smarter than me and did so on this occasion. He didn’t balk at the saddle, gave no objection to the bridle or taking on my things. It was me he objected to, like he knew us on a fool’s errand and meant, due to our six years together, to keep me from such pursuit. When my foot went into the stirrup, as it has hundreds of times, he pulled away which threw me off balance. “Easy, Red,” I told him, but when I tried again he again acted like some stranger was attempting to steal him and ride off to nowhere. “Goddamn you, Red, hold up.”

Now he darted back without any attempt by me to mount him, acting skittish when he was too old for such nonsense. Yet he persisted. Though my temper continued to rise, I reined myself in and left off trying to get aboard. I stood silent a good minute before easing up to talk to my friend face to face. He looked at me with those endearing eyes and I’ve no idea what in hell he was saying in his silent horse way, but I felt his concern. “We’ll be all right, boy,” I assured him, wondering, as I said it, if he knew I was lying. He snorted and I chuckled and we passed another couple minutes before he let me climb up without giving so much as a twitch. We then set off at an easy canter because I refused to appear on the chase.

North was all I had from Ben. I’d get over to the road running along the San Pedro River and follow it to Contention and points beyond, if needed. Just had to hope Ben hadn’t circled around and headed for Mexico. Thinking on this as Red and I went along, I decided Ben would indeed keep to his plan. I didn’t see him wanting to disappear south of the border because a big part of him wanted notice. Claiming five kills to Mexicans who didn’t know him was a waste, although claiming the same in Arizona Territory wasn’t much better. Killing in Kansas remains there, unless the fellow is Doc Holliday or Wyatt Earp.

I rode until dusk, stopping twice at the river to drink alongside Red, to rest and piss such as was needed. I half expected to come upon Ben lying on his bedroll, dozing in the shade, hand in his pants. I’d done that often in younger years. Now I always waited until dark surrounded me to indulge.

I wasn’t going to try and get Ben to go back to Tombstone and face justice as that would deprive me of his company. His business with the law was not my concern. Ours was a personal connection, I reasoned, and I could pursue that without breaking the law, though the law might see it different.

He’ll stay in Contention, I decided. Or no, he’ll camp outside town after taking a meal there. And a drink or two. I could see him strutting in a saloon, that fifth man weighing on him in the worst way, stirring him up instead of shutting him down.

I knew Contention well and thought ahead to places I’d look. Get myself a meal, get myself some drinks. Maybe stay over. Why run myself ragged for Ben Wylie? I had no occupation beyond earning enough to keep myself so there were no requirements on my person which is how I liked to live my life. Ben was actually an intruder, but I couldn’t fault him as he was a welcome kind. But he had turned me sideways, if not upside down. My d**k stirred to remind me how much I liked it.

I had supper in Contention after stabling Red and ordering him extra oats. I looked him in the eye and saw he’d forgiven me our possibly foolhardy direction. I wondered if that would continue. It was a good supper, but I scarcely tasted it as I had a window seat and kept looking out, hoping Ben would not only appear, he’d see me, come in, and say he wanted to f**k. This proved entertaining, but he never went by.

After supper I went around town in search, hitting every saloon and dance hall and getting drunk in the process. When I took a room at one in the morning, I didn’t care on Ben Wylie, but when I woke next morning with a stiff prick, I cared a whole hell of a lot.

I left off addressing the foolishness of my pursuit until I’d worked myself to a good come, thinking on Ben doing the same. My spurts became his as he thought on me.

I took breakfast with about a gallon of coffee, again at a window seat, again without sight of Ben. I then fetched Red and rode on. By the time I rode into Benson, the pursuit was wearing on me, not so much in body as in mind. If he’s not here, I told my foolish self, it’s over. I’ll ride back to Tombstone where I’d just gotten settled when he turned tables on me. This plan raised my spirits which, of course, meant something would stomp things all to hell.

I secured a room and again looked around town while trying to appear not looking at all. I played some poker as my money was getting low, but kept looking toward the front door. Whiskey was little help, but I did win.

I sought a smoke shop after this, buying a cigar and lighting up out front and there, as if sent by fate or maybe Satan, came Ben Wylie across the street, going along like he bore no concern at being wanted for killing a man. He strode with purpose when he likely had none, his gait meant to show his manliness. I was probably the only one taking note. I remained fixed as he went along and allowed him to get a good distance up the street before following. Of course, as I hurried along I tried to come up with something to do beyond f*****g. On this I had no luck.

It was Ben who showed me the way. He suddenly turned up an alley and I rushed to catch up, fearful I’d lose what I’d finally gained. Going into the alley, I was grateful to be in daylight as this treated me to sight of Ben having a piss against a wall not twenty feet away. I stole close and took a pose leaning against the wall to watch his stream. “No need to put that away,” I said once he’d finished.

Startled at first, he quickly warmed and began to pull his d**k. As he worked, he turned to face me and I feasted on the sight, thinking I might, then and there, drop to my knees in manly worship. I was easing down when a voice spoke from farther down the alley. “Cain’t get yourselves a woman?” came the taunt as a ragged and unshaven fellow stepped into view. He was bigger than us in both height and girth and I saw right off he used this to advantage. “Best you stick that purdy piece of meat in a cunt instead of this fellow’s mouth. Or do you plan to put it up his ass?”

Ben shoved his c**k into his pants, but I saw this wouldn’t end the encounter. His hand hovered at his pistol so I said, as I rose, “Best move on, mister.”

“Hell with that,” he replied. “I’m fixing to watch you suck that little pink thing, seeing how that’s what your kind does.”

In the next second Ben drew and fired, but missed due to me again interfering. Once I’d knocked his aim all to hell, I lunged at the intruder and gut punched him low which I’ve found will usually drop a man. I was wrong on this occasion. He reeled back, swore, then lunged forward and hit me in the jaw while Ben flew at him, driving his knee up between the man’s legs. This ended the encounter by sending the fellow blubbering into a heap. I turned to speak to Ben, but was caught by his fist which hit me near the eye and I lit into him with all I had. My need to f**k gave way to beating hell out of the little s**t.

He was a scrapper, that I’ll allow, but he was no match for me. I landed punches until he dropped to the ground, and I then pulled him to his feet and drove my fist hard to his middle. I heard the last of his heat escape on a desperate breath as he once again hit the ground.

I allowed a couple minutes to regain my own self as well as decide my next move which turned out to be getting him up and dragging him to my hotel room. He fell twice going up the stairs and each time I kicked his butt. He gave no fight, nor did he speak. Our brief journey was mostly grunts and my telling him to keep moving.

Once in my room I grabbed him by the shoulder, flipped him around, and slapped him so hard he flew back onto the bed. I didn’t let him lie there as he likely hoped. I pulled him to his feet and this time slapped him twice, once with each hand, which sent him to the floor. Swearing accompanied all this and I doubt I missed any of the usual words in telling him what he was about. He gave no reply to any of it and, worked up as I was, I had no choice but to f**k him.

I did it rough, knocking him around, then tearing off his clothes. When I had him naked, I beat on him some more as my passion was a violent sort. Bruises were coming up on his face by the time I got out my d**k, put him on the floor, and drove up him with all the force I possessed. I ached to come, fighting riling me, and I slapped his bottom as I pumped away, the rise coming on quickly. I said nothing as I emptied into him, riding to a standstill. And when I was done and pulled out, I flipped him over, shoved my filthy c**k into his mouth, and made him lick me clean.

He made no move to work his d**k and when he’d cleaned me he sat back, showing me he remained stiff. “You think I’m going to get you off?” I asked. “Think again. You’re not worth s**t. You’re no more than a butthole for me to stick.”

The fight may have gone out of him, but those eyes told that he saw through it all. He stood as he pulled his d**k, and I couldn’t help but look so there we were in silence, face to face, and him knowing he had me. He was right, of course. I’d proved that by chasing after him.

Soon he was pumping away, arching his back, and giving me a show. When he shot his load, a gasp escaped me as he was a sight to behold, young c**k spurting an impressive distance. He kept on until he went soft, then let go and just stood, like his body alone was comment. “You came after me,” he said.

“Only to keep you from more killing.”

“Why are you so determined that way?”

I hadn’t undressed to f**k. I’d done no more than free my c**k, but now I began to strip.

“Why?” demanded Ben.

“You know why. I said it before.”

“Tell me again.”

I sat on the bed to pull off boots and socks, then stood to get out of pants and drawers. When I was bare I said what he wanted. “You’ve captured me, Ben. Hell of a thing, but I’m gone on you.”

Saying such a thing is both good and bad: good in setting strong feelings free, bad if it’s suspect by the other party, which it appeared to be with Ben Wylie. Why he insisted on hearing declarations from me I do not know since he obviously thought them untrue. “I’m not that other fellow, Ben. I don’t say things lightly, nor do I mean to do you any wrong.”

I patted the bed beside me, but he made no move. Even in his naked state he bore the look of a man with a hand hovering at his pistol. “Why not come over here and allow yourself some pleasure?”

It was difficult to keep in mind the fact he was a killer, and not only that, the worst kind of killer, the kind looking for more. It was too easy to see him a boy not yet grown into his manhood, a boy saddled with that drive we all know when young, a drive that runs us, d**k in the lead. Trouble was some found a gun barrel much the same as a d**k and took to bragging on how many killed instead of how many f****d.

Ben came to the bed, but kept a distance so there we were, two naked and silent men. Finally I couldn’t stand it and spoke. “I have some years on you, Ben, which means I’ve known more than you, lived hard at times, easy at others, mostly in between. There have been men of all sorts, mostly the passing through kind which I know you understand, but sometimes a fellow stuck and that’s good. Something happens on occasion, I get that. And this is one of those occasions.”

“I won’t be roped,” he said.

“That’s not what I’m after. Caring about a fellow means looking out for him, helping him, enjoying his company, being a pard—and more. We’ve got the more down pretty good, so I’d like to get on with the rest. No rope involved. Free to go at any time. Right now if you choose.”

When I stopped running my mouth, I was struck by fear he’d pull on his clothes, tell me he had no such feelings, and leave. I’d have to sit there and take it and worse, hold off chasing him further. I sat in agony until he scooted closer, put his head in my lap, and sucked my d**k.

I petted him as he fed, knowing cocksucking was his way of saying he’s with me. I stroked his hair, but after a bit eased him back and kissed him. “I want to f**k you,” I said. And I laid him on his back, got his legs up on my shoulders, and got into him for a good long one. I took it slow and steady, twice having to pull out and add spit. He didn’t pull his d**k though it stood tall and I admired this as I know a young fellow wants to get off every minute. I took his restraint as homage to our bond.

As I pumped away, I allowed my heart its freedom, getting even more gone than before. I liked the hothead in him, running roughshod over all in his path, me included. He gazed up at me and I saw a swoon getting loose, like he couldn’t keep the walls from tumbling down.

“Good, huh?” I said as I kept on.

He almost smiled. His eyelids fluttered, his head rolled on the pillow, and I shoved in harder which brought a moan. I’ve taken a d**k or two in my time so I know the joy of penetration, know better the joy of doing the penetrating which started causing my nuts to boil.

“I’m going to come in you,” I said as I started to thrust with some authority. “Holy God, I’m going to fill you.” These were my last words before my c**k set loose a come of great proportion. I pounded it into Ben, driving it deep, and I didn’t leave off until I was beyond empty and going soft. I then collapsed beside him.

I was still trying to regain my breathing when Ben rose up over me, working his d**k in a great show. He arched as his hand became a frenzy and then he shot big gobs of come onto my chest. I thrilled to the sight of his spew as I’d never had the stuff rain down on me in such a way.

When he was done he wagged his thing at me, grinned, then kneeled to lick me clean. If I hadn’t just been done in, I’d have become aroused at the sight, but I was spent in that department. My mind, however, was fully erect and I petted Ben as he licked.

Once he’d had his fill, he crawled up and kissed me, offering a tongue full of his spunk which I welcomed. I swear kissing can be far more intimate than a f**k.

When Ben finally settled, lying curled into my arm, I told him he now had me for sure. “Gone and then some,” I added.

“That’s okay,” he replied and I got how that was all he could offer.

Later on, when we’d dozed a bit, I asked if he had a plan. “You’re a wanted man,” I reminded him. “The law will come looking sooner or later.”

He took so long to answer that I saw he not only had no plan, he’d not given the matter any thought. The same thing that made him eager in s*x, ruined him for practical matters, but I had to leave it lie, which was nearly impossible.

“I won’t be roped,” he said finally, much to my exasperation. I near bit my tongue holding back comment on possible hanging. To quiet myself, I sucked his d**k.

Later on, when I was a sweaty mess and the room reeked of us, Ben lay sleeping like some innocent. I enjoyed the sight, deceptive as it was. If we never left the room all would be solved. f**k away our lives. Outrun the law by staying put.

I was a fool to let a kid run me, but that was what it was. When we finally cleaned up and left the room, he went around town like he was free as a bird. I was the one watching for the law with one eye and Ben with the other, hoping to head off more killing. He might be more trouble than I’d thought.

When I saw a badge I seized up. My hand hovered at my pistol while Ben went along with a spring in his step, looking in store windows, not a care in the world. The lawman passed without notice of us and I about collapsed with relief because I wanted no trouble on my own behalf, not to mention Ben’s. He, meanwhile, missed all this.

When we were finally settled in a restaurant, I almost told him of the lawman’s passing by, then decided I’d best not as he’d take it as proof he need not exercise caution. And maybe he was right. Maybe nobody cared about a fool kid. Maybe the fellow he shot was of no consequence or maybe he didn’t die. Ben would hate that, not getting his five.

Ben said little as we ate. I couldn’t read him, wondering, after a time, if there was maybe nothing to read. Some fellows are simple that way, smart enough to get by, but not needing to figure things. Others of us are saddled with too much figuring.

It surprised me when Ben said he meant to play some cards. I had no idea he had money and didn’t want to speculate on where it came from. When he settled in at poker, I deferred to play some faro, then stand at the bar. Though I purposely didn’t keep an eye on Ben, I did keep an ear, hoping voices wouldn’t be raised. After a couple hours I went outside for a smoke, confident I need not worry. Once settled into a chair I had about two minutes peace before a posse rode in.

I wanted to jump up, rush inside, and take Ben out the back, but I knew better than to trust my present self. Feelings for him clouded my judgment so I just watched the men, five in number, two sporting badges. I recognized Marshal Dave Cox and Deputy Oren Goodwood from Tombstone and I also knew one of the other men as I’d gambled with him regular. They had no reason to take note of my presence so I gained just a glance as they walked their horses by, looking side to side in case their prey was standing there asking to get caught. Ben, inside playing cards, was surely not paying attention to his surroundings and that’s something a gunman should never let fail. As I sat I thought on how to best take flight and decided the thing was to not do as expected. Ben must hide here in town, but I couldn’t hide him in my room as we’d been seen together which meant I might be questioned. As I’d rather not have that happen, I’d have to hide with Ben. All this I pondered as the men dismounted a little ways up the street.

I meandered back into the saloon like a fellow with not a care in the world, which was my state until I took up with Ben Wylie. He was having a fine time with his cards, taking whiskey, joshing between hands, but that had to end. I sidled up beside him after a hand was played, I leaned down, and said a posse was in town and we’d best get scarce. He stiffened in his chair which I first thought was him digging in his heels, but I had that wrong. He stood, thanked the men for a good game, and followed me out the back.

“I believe we shouldn’t run,” I told him. “Hide somewhere until they’ve done their search and gone.”

“We?” he said. “It’s me they’re after.”

“True, but I’ve been seen with you so I’ll get scarce, too.”

“Where?”

“I figure the livery is best. I noted some storage above and I know the owner as we’ve gambled together in the past. He’s not favorable toward the law and I believe for p*****t he’ll hide us. But first we have to get our things, make like we’ve fled. We can go to the hotel the back way and come back same. Come on.”

This plan went well and we acted without a care, got saddlebags and bedrolls, paid up, and left, doing all this separately. Ben went out the back while I went out the front, acting free as a breeze before going around to join him. We then skulked our way behind buildings until reaching the livery.

“We’re in need of shelter from the law,” I told John Riley, the proprietor. ‘You look to have an attic space that I believe won’t be noticed. I’ll pay to get us up there and remain until the posse has gone. Ten dollars.”

No man will turn down that sum to remain lawful. Riley took the money and got a ladder. “Not too comfortable,” he said. “Just storage.”

“Not looking for comfort,” I replied. “If you’re asked about us, Decker and Wylie, you say we lit out. Had you saddle us up and we took off, you’ve no idea where.”

Ben held the bedrolls while I climbed up to see nothing but a rough floor with boxes of old implements, irons and such. A man couldn’t stand, the slanting roof being so close. I shoved boxes to one side, then hauled up bedrolls and saddlebags. Ben followed, after which Riley removed the ladder. We then attempted to settle.

Since Riley was agreeable toward lying about us, we had only to wait. Ben laid out his bedroll as it worked well with us being prone. I bumped my head before I got mine in place and stretched out.

“How long you think we have to hide?” Ben asked.

“No idea. Depends on how fast and how thorough a search they conduct. A posse should ask every store, saloon, and hotel man if the suspect has been seen, but I’ve known posses to do far less. Marshal Cox is a persistent sort so I expect him to do a good search and possibly lay over as a result. Of course, once he gets down here and talks to Riley, they should ride on. For now, best to get comfortable, such as we can.

Ben surprised me by dozing right off. While I listened to every creak and snort, he breezed along in slumber which I almost resented as it felt like I was doing his time. Guess that’s what a fellow will suffer when he gives his heart over to a questionable man.

I wanted to sleep, but couldn’t. Every time I shut my eyes, they flew open at voices below and I listened to all manner of exchanges, some livery business, some just men jawing. When it was near dark, Riley put up the ladder and brought us food, whiskey, and a bucket “for the necessary,” he said.

“Much obliged,” I replied as I took up the offerings.

“The posse is still in town,” said Riley, “going all around. I expect them here before long.”

“You be sure and tell them we’ve gone, make a thing of getting the horses ready and such. They hear that, they should head out.”

“Hope so.”

It didn’t go that way, of course. Ben and I stayed in that cramped and hot attic eating up the food, drinking up the whiskey, pissing in the bucket, and finally, because there was nothing else to do, having a f**k. This greatly improved the situation. I got him bare assed, lying on his side while I freed my d**k and put it to him. We were quietly going at it when I heard Dave Cox announce himself Marshal of Tombstone, then say Ben’s name.

“He was here,” Riley said. “Rode out with Cal Decker couple hours ago. Didn’t say where.”

My prick was lodged in Ben’s ass and I felt him suppress a giggle at the situation which, I had to admit, was amusing. I shoved in hard to let him know I got the joke, then resumed a quiet f**k right over the law’s head.

“Goddamn,” said Marshal Cox. “Goddamn son-of-a-bitch.”

He offered no more, just left, and Riley went about his business. I also went about mine, getting up speed now and driving a load into Ben, who was working himself to a come. He issued a groan as he let go and I forgave him the noise since the law had gone. The posse would now ride on and we could remain in town.

We buttoned up and it wasn’t long before Riley called, “You hear?”

“We did. Thanks for helping us out.”

The ladder came up and we rolled and secured our bedding, threw them and saddlebags down, and quickly followed.

“You want me to saddle your horses?” asked Riley.

“We do,” I said at which Ben bristled.

“Why take off now? We fooled the posse so we can stay on.”

I blew out a sigh. “You’re forgetting the local law. If they didn’t take note of you before, they will now. No, we can’t stay. Saddle us up, Riley.”

Ben paced about in a stew and I left him to it. Time for him to grow up, get practical. When the horses were ready, our gear aboard, I climbed into the saddle and waited on Ben, who finally, with the look of a pouting child, followed. We then rode from town, but I stopped us a mile or so down the road.

“You realize we can’t continue north,” I offered. “The posse has gone that direction so we’d best make a turn. How about New Mexico? I hear Silver City has promise. We can play some cards, win enough to see us well kept, and have us a time.”

As he pondered this, my gut seized something awful, fearing he’d say again how he wouldn’t be roped. “Suppose,” was what I got and in that one word all was set right. I cared not he was a killer, cared not he’d continue that way. What I cared on was indeed roping him and knowing, with time, he’d come to crave it.