Page 9
He let is fall and heard the metalic clunk as his badge hit the stony track. As he dropped his stetson, the man with the shotgun, who had followed him down from the ridge, picked up his shirt and caught his hat in mid-air.
"Okay Marshal," he said, "head for the corral yonder, the Boss is waiting for you."
Chapter 9
Bradburn walked his horse along the side of an outhouse. turned left and there was the large corral. A dozen or so men, some leaning against the fence, some sitting of the top rail, watched silently as he approached As he neared the gate a ranch hand stepped forward and grabbed his horse's bridle, "Okay
Marshal, that's far enough, down." Bradburn climbed down and as the hand led his horse away, turned to face the silent staring men."Wowee, look at that boner," one of the men shouted. Another whistled and several laughed. But the laughter sounded forced, almost nervous and ceased abuptly, seeming to heighten the growing tension. Bradburn marched into the corral and stopped staring. The furthest end was formed by the side of a barn and Corky had been lashed, spreadeagled, ro its wide doorframe. He was naked. except for his boots, and his thick cock jutted out from a thick bush of ginger hair. Bradburnm felt his guts tighten and turned his eyes to look at Ohlson. He was bare-chested and he stood, legs wide apart, his crossed arms making his biceps look enormous. The bulge in his levis had never looked so impressive but it was the bullwhip he held that got Bradburn's attention. "My God, you bastard, if you've..."
"I haven't touched him, Viking snapped.. "This rawhide is for you, if 'n yr man enough to take it. Put yr hands behind yr back."
"Not until you release him."
"I ain't gonna cut him down til you submit." Bradburn squared his shoulders and glared at Viking.
"Okay mister, if that's how its to be," Viking snarled and striding round behind Corky, raised the whip
"No, for Christ's sake," Bradburn shouted and put his hands behind his back. The stubbled man quickly wrapped a length of rope around the hairy wrists and, as he knotted it roughly, Viking roared with laughter. He flung an arm around Corky's neck and Bradburn was amazed to hear the Deputy say, "Told yer Viking, the only brains he's got are between his legs." Corky joined in the laughter and awful truth began to dawn on the Marshal. Vikinmg cut Corky down and,laughter gone, he turned back to look at Bradburn's anguished face. Corky's betrayal was like a knife in Bradburn's guts and Viking savoured the moment. He sauntered up to the stricken, bound man and sneered, "In Sweden, we say that a man with no brains feels no pain. I hope that's not true Marshal, cos I've got a lot of it lined up for you." Bradburn made no reply as he watched Corky pulling on his clothes. "What d'yah say to that, eh Marshal?" Bradburn turned his eyes back to the man taunting him and Viking saw that they now blazed with anger, as he snarled, "No much Ohlson, you always had a big mouth." Viking
stepped back and gave Bradburn a tremendous backhand which rocked him on his feet then snapped his head back with an equally hard slap. "You'll learn to be nice to me Marshal," Viking said and drove his fist into Bradburn's belly. He grunted and, staggering back a pace, was backhanded and cuffed savagely. Tears welled up in his eyes and his ears rang as bracing himself, he saw Corky come forward and push Viking aside. "Why?" he said looking down into the Deputy's leering face.
"Because I hate your fucking guts, you arrogsnt ape," Corky snapped and brought his knee up hard into the Marshal's balls. Bradburn grunted loudly and as his body bucked forward, Corky's knee came up again, even harder. Viking put a hand on the Deputy's shoulder, "Easy mister, remember where he's goin'. I don't want no riled Mexicans comin' lookin' for me. Sure hurt the son-of-bitch as much as
you like, but don't injure 'im." Corky grinned and slammed his knee again into Bradburn's balls. The Marshal grunted and his body sagged but he did't go down. Pain speared up into his guts, igniting a feverish excitement that surged through his body and he lifted his bearded chin off his hairy chest and slowly straightened up. Corky looked the pale tear-streaked face and saw the excitement glittering in the dark eyes. As he dropped his gaze to the massive wide-spread thighs and the awesome bulge between them, made by Bradburn's huge bruised balls, a thought, impossible though it seemed, flitted across his mind. Was this tough bastard asking for it?? But too consumed by sadistic lust to care, he brushed it aside.
Knuckles on hips, Viking watched the young man with growing respect as he twice more drove his knee into Bradburn' bollocks with just the right amount of force. The ranch hands watched silently, most of them a little uneasy at the sight of the punishment dished out to anothers manhood. But when after the sixth blow, Bradburn's legs buckled and he dropped to his knees and pitched forward into the dust, they gave a ragged cheer. Viking had forgotten they were there and gave a start, "What the fuck are you men still doing here," he shouted? Pointing to the stubble-chinned man he yelled, You, Walt, get the men back to work. We've got a ranch to run."
"Ahh boss, can't we jist..... "
"Do it, or by Christ, I'll horsewhip you." For the first time, Corky looked at the lean, muscular unshaven man and seeing the big glans jutting against the paper-thin denim of his threadbare pants
wondered why he had not noticed him before.
"Okay, Okay," Walt replied, his face a mask of disappointment, as he turned to the hands, "Come on you guys, move it. You heard the boss." Corky watched Walt herd the men away, his eyes lingering
on the man's tight rounded ass.
"On your feet Bradburn," Viking snarled. As the Marshal pulled himself painfully to his feet, Viking shoved him roughly, "Git in the barn, move."
Viking lashed Bradburn's arms to a stout post, supporting the barn roof. "Dont worry, Marshal, I ain't forgot your flogging. Need to warm you up some so 'un you can 'preciate it.." Then reaching out he grabbed hold of the Marshal's wide studded belt. Bradburn's hairy abs twitched reflexively as Viking undid the large, ornate buckle. Easing the studs through the loops, he pulled the belt free, and grasped it by the buckle. As Bradburn watched him wrap the heavy belt a couple of times around his fist, he knew what Viking was going to do. The excitement that he'd felt when he'd been beaten in the corral,
welled up again. His body had a will of its own and he groaned inwardly as his breathing quickened and he began to sweat. Viking's lips twisted in a snarl of lust as he looked at Bradburn's large plump nipples, jutting from their nests of black hair, and lifted the belt. There was a loud staccato crack as the belt struck the Marshal and he grunted and jerked against the ropes. But it was a reflex action only, not the pain, as the burning sting of the studded belt fuelled his growing excitement. Swinging hard and wide, Viking began to lash Bradburn's pecs. The marshal dropped his head back against the post and held his body rigid as the studs, unerringly, struck his nipples again and again. The sharp stings merged into one burning pain that grew steadily more intense and Bradburn grit his teeth for fear that the exquisite agony would make him blurt out the unthinkable. Then Viking turned his attention to the rest of his chest and slowly worked down over his hairy belly.
Corky was in a feverish state of excitement as he looked at Bradburn's rigid cock srtraining against his levis. The whole area around the jutting glans was soaked with what Corky guessed was spunk until he moved closer and saw that it was precum. Christ, this son-on-a-bitch was horny, th thought, and he recalled his earlier notion. But before he could speculate further, Viking lowered his arm and kneaded his biceps
Sunday, 12 January 2014
Friday, 10 January 2014
The Marshal Page 8
page 8
"
But you've still got the hots for him, ain't you Corky?"
"Yeah I suppose I have, in a funny kind of way."
"Why funny?"
"I'd get my biggest kick ever seein' him stripped and broken."
"I can guarantee you'll see that, if' n you cooperate with me. Is it a deal?"
"Sure is mister," Cocky said, stretching out his hand. Elated, Viking gripped it. He had committed Corky to a vicious betrayal of his erstwhile buddy. He was engulfed in a hot wave of lust and grabbing the muscular red-headed Deputy flung him onto the mattress.
Chapter 8
Bradburn tucked the bottom of the rough check shirt around his balls and pulled on his levis. He strode out lof his room, buttoning up as he went, and rapped on Corky's door. He paused, and hearing no response knocked again. "Come on pardner, shake a leg," he bawled. There was still silence and he pushed open the door and peered in. The bed had not been slept in. That's damn strange he thought as he clumped down the stairs.There was no sign of Corky and he felt slightly uneasy as he put the battered tin coffee pot on the stove. He had no prisoners to feed so he made himself a bowl of grits before he headed down the street, in the bright morning sunshine, to the Telegraph and Stage office. There was no mail, as the stage from Red Butte would not arrive until well after noon, but there was a handful of telegrams He took them back, made himself some more coffee and read them, sitting at the Jailhouse desk. It was all just routine stuff and putting them aside, he sat back in his chair and lit a cheroot. As he exhaled a plume of acrid smoke, he stretched out his legs and his right hand dropped to his groin. He stroked his tumescent cock through the denim and, as he cupped his big heavy balls he thought of Jose. He'd planned to go out to the ranch after the stage had arrived but that wouldn't be possible if Corky didn't show up. Where the fuck was he?
The stage came and went and there was still no sign of Corky. At sundown Bradburn made his way over to the saloon for a drink. Sounding as casual as possible, he asked if anyone had seen Corky.
None had and Bradburn tried to convince himself that Corky was out at the river and would appear any minute, sun-reddened and ravenous. At ten o'clock , there was still no sign of his deputy and Bradburn, realizing that he'd had more than enough to drink, made his way back to the Jailhouse.
What awaited him, sobered him up instantly. A grubby piece of paper had been pushed under the door and he picked it up and carried it to the desk and turned up the lamp.
You ar instrukted to be at the Dayton ranch an ower after sunup. Come alone and unarmed. At the gate strip off yr shirt an drop yr hat. Then ride nis n slow with yr hands on yr head to the corral. I'm
gonna give you the whippin you bin askin for. If' n you don't show yr deputy will get your thrashin instead. He's stripped and hung up already. Tell no one or your cute litle buddy gets it, real good. Viking
Bradburn screwed up the paper as he dropped into his chair. As the numbness of the shock faded he felt fear for himself and Corky, anger and deep down, a strange excitement. Taking a deep breath he brought his emotions under control and reached into his shirt pocket for a cheroot. Her lit it and was about to flick out the match when he spotted the crumpled paper lying on the desk. Picking it up with thumb and forefinger, he put the flame to it. As he watched it burn, it was not fear that made his hand tremble but the compelling excitement deep within him. He became aware that his cock was achingly hard and he groaned as he looked down to see it straining against the denim. His hands dropped to his groin and as he began to unbutton his fly, he realized that, sitting at the Jailhouse desk, he was in full view of the street. Climbing to his feet, he took up the lamp and made his way upstairs to his room. The excitement flared up in him, fever hot as he put the lamp and tore at the buttons on his shirt. He flung the ripped garment aside and, undoing his levis, pushed them down over his hairy thighs. His breathing had been getting faster and, now panting, he fell back onto the bed and grasped his rigid cock. He pumped it a couple of times and exploded. As his orgasm engulfed him, he saw himself naked and spreadeagled his straining muscles lashed and bloody. Gouts of thick white spunk spattered his hair chest and face as more images of ropes, chains, bullwhips and a cock of super-
human size, tumbled through his mind. Slowly his wrenching spasms subsided and the pictures faded
away into the oblivion of deep sleep.
The night was cool and it was the chill of the wet spunk on his skin that brought Bradburn awake. He rubbed his hand over the spunk clogged hair on his chest and sat up. The lamp was still burning and he looked down at his spattered chest and belly before he climbed out of bed. He snatched up the torn shirt, unpinned his star and wiped the spunk from his body and beard. Looking at the clock on the wall, he felt a jolt in his guts. It was about three hours to sunup and time to go. Fixing his heavy metal badge to a fresh shirt, he put it on. He pulled on his levis and picked up his gunbelt. ..Come unarmed, Ohlson had said and Bradburn knew that when he neared the ranch, he'd be carefully scrutinised and watched. He felt certain that if he didn't do exactly as he was told, Corky would get it for sure. Suddenly in his mind's eye he saw Corky's naked muscular body writhing under the lash and threw the gunbelt onto the bed.
Bradburn saw no one as he left Tyler and hoped that nobody saw him. There was no moon but the stars gave ample light for him to see the well used trail. He had plenty of time and let his horse stride nice and easy. The excitement that had all but overwhelmed him last night was still there, laying heavy and dormant on his guts like a stone but he felt it stir when he thought of the ordeal ahead. He turned his mind to Jose and tried to convince himself that he'd rather be riding to the Rugero ranch. But he knew that this was something he wanted to do. He could argue that he was going to save Corky. And whilst this was true, it was not the whole truth. There was another reason, deeper and darker that had spawned the intense sexual excitement last night and which he could not admit to himself. Bradburn's cock began to harden and he heeled his horse into a canter. The sky was lightening and he always got a hard-on riding.
The sun had cleared the horizon when Bradburn reached the narrow track that would lead over the ridge and down into the wide shallow valley in which the Dayton ranch lay. At the top of the slope one of the ranch's hands sat on a rock, his shotgun across his knees. As he approached the man slid
down from his perch and brought the gun up to his stubbled chin.
"Geddown," he snarled, "nice and slow." Bradburn pulled up and raised his hands shoulder high.
"Sure but go easy mister," he said, looking down at the man who stood, legs spread wide, with the shotgun aimed at his chest. The dude was sporting a massive boner and his levis were so threadbare
that Bradburn wondered why the denim didn't split under the pressure. Seeing the direction of the Marshal's glance the man sniggered, then snarled again, "C'mon geddown, move it," and Bradburn complied, knowing what the man would see between his legs. "Jesus," the hand whispered, gawping at Bradburn's groin as he lowered the gun to waist level. "Ain't that some salami you're packin' there
Marshal." To his surprise Bradburn heard himself reply, "From where I'm standing it looks like a damn good day for salamis." The man chuckled and said, in a friendlier tone, Move away from your horse and turn round slowly." Satisfied that Bradburn was not armed he checked the saddlebags before saying, "Okay Marshal,you can remount and move on."
The ranch was a large white, rambling building surrounded by numerous outhouses and a big corral.
On one side stood a huge water tank on four iron legs. A wooden platform had been fixed to the cross stays just below the tank itself and Bradburn saw that two armed men sat on it, watching as he approached the ranch gate, really no more than a gap in the fence with two tall raised posts and a third forming a lintel. As instructed, he stopped, pulled his shirt out of his levis and stripped it off.
"
But you've still got the hots for him, ain't you Corky?"
"Yeah I suppose I have, in a funny kind of way."
"Why funny?"
"I'd get my biggest kick ever seein' him stripped and broken."
"I can guarantee you'll see that, if' n you cooperate with me. Is it a deal?"
"Sure is mister," Cocky said, stretching out his hand. Elated, Viking gripped it. He had committed Corky to a vicious betrayal of his erstwhile buddy. He was engulfed in a hot wave of lust and grabbing the muscular red-headed Deputy flung him onto the mattress.
Chapter 8
Bradburn tucked the bottom of the rough check shirt around his balls and pulled on his levis. He strode out lof his room, buttoning up as he went, and rapped on Corky's door. He paused, and hearing no response knocked again. "Come on pardner, shake a leg," he bawled. There was still silence and he pushed open the door and peered in. The bed had not been slept in. That's damn strange he thought as he clumped down the stairs.There was no sign of Corky and he felt slightly uneasy as he put the battered tin coffee pot on the stove. He had no prisoners to feed so he made himself a bowl of grits before he headed down the street, in the bright morning sunshine, to the Telegraph and Stage office. There was no mail, as the stage from Red Butte would not arrive until well after noon, but there was a handful of telegrams He took them back, made himself some more coffee and read them, sitting at the Jailhouse desk. It was all just routine stuff and putting them aside, he sat back in his chair and lit a cheroot. As he exhaled a plume of acrid smoke, he stretched out his legs and his right hand dropped to his groin. He stroked his tumescent cock through the denim and, as he cupped his big heavy balls he thought of Jose. He'd planned to go out to the ranch after the stage had arrived but that wouldn't be possible if Corky didn't show up. Where the fuck was he?
The stage came and went and there was still no sign of Corky. At sundown Bradburn made his way over to the saloon for a drink. Sounding as casual as possible, he asked if anyone had seen Corky.
None had and Bradburn tried to convince himself that Corky was out at the river and would appear any minute, sun-reddened and ravenous. At ten o'clock , there was still no sign of his deputy and Bradburn, realizing that he'd had more than enough to drink, made his way back to the Jailhouse.
What awaited him, sobered him up instantly. A grubby piece of paper had been pushed under the door and he picked it up and carried it to the desk and turned up the lamp.
You ar instrukted to be at the Dayton ranch an ower after sunup. Come alone and unarmed. At the gate strip off yr shirt an drop yr hat. Then ride nis n slow with yr hands on yr head to the corral. I'm
gonna give you the whippin you bin askin for. If' n you don't show yr deputy will get your thrashin instead. He's stripped and hung up already. Tell no one or your cute litle buddy gets it, real good. Viking
Bradburn screwed up the paper as he dropped into his chair. As the numbness of the shock faded he felt fear for himself and Corky, anger and deep down, a strange excitement. Taking a deep breath he brought his emotions under control and reached into his shirt pocket for a cheroot. Her lit it and was about to flick out the match when he spotted the crumpled paper lying on the desk. Picking it up with thumb and forefinger, he put the flame to it. As he watched it burn, it was not fear that made his hand tremble but the compelling excitement deep within him. He became aware that his cock was achingly hard and he groaned as he looked down to see it straining against the denim. His hands dropped to his groin and as he began to unbutton his fly, he realized that, sitting at the Jailhouse desk, he was in full view of the street. Climbing to his feet, he took up the lamp and made his way upstairs to his room. The excitement flared up in him, fever hot as he put the lamp and tore at the buttons on his shirt. He flung the ripped garment aside and, undoing his levis, pushed them down over his hairy thighs. His breathing had been getting faster and, now panting, he fell back onto the bed and grasped his rigid cock. He pumped it a couple of times and exploded. As his orgasm engulfed him, he saw himself naked and spreadeagled his straining muscles lashed and bloody. Gouts of thick white spunk spattered his hair chest and face as more images of ropes, chains, bullwhips and a cock of super-
human size, tumbled through his mind. Slowly his wrenching spasms subsided and the pictures faded
away into the oblivion of deep sleep.
The night was cool and it was the chill of the wet spunk on his skin that brought Bradburn awake. He rubbed his hand over the spunk clogged hair on his chest and sat up. The lamp was still burning and he looked down at his spattered chest and belly before he climbed out of bed. He snatched up the torn shirt, unpinned his star and wiped the spunk from his body and beard. Looking at the clock on the wall, he felt a jolt in his guts. It was about three hours to sunup and time to go. Fixing his heavy metal badge to a fresh shirt, he put it on. He pulled on his levis and picked up his gunbelt. ..Come unarmed, Ohlson had said and Bradburn knew that when he neared the ranch, he'd be carefully scrutinised and watched. He felt certain that if he didn't do exactly as he was told, Corky would get it for sure. Suddenly in his mind's eye he saw Corky's naked muscular body writhing under the lash and threw the gunbelt onto the bed.
Bradburn saw no one as he left Tyler and hoped that nobody saw him. There was no moon but the stars gave ample light for him to see the well used trail. He had plenty of time and let his horse stride nice and easy. The excitement that had all but overwhelmed him last night was still there, laying heavy and dormant on his guts like a stone but he felt it stir when he thought of the ordeal ahead. He turned his mind to Jose and tried to convince himself that he'd rather be riding to the Rugero ranch. But he knew that this was something he wanted to do. He could argue that he was going to save Corky. And whilst this was true, it was not the whole truth. There was another reason, deeper and darker that had spawned the intense sexual excitement last night and which he could not admit to himself. Bradburn's cock began to harden and he heeled his horse into a canter. The sky was lightening and he always got a hard-on riding.
The sun had cleared the horizon when Bradburn reached the narrow track that would lead over the ridge and down into the wide shallow valley in which the Dayton ranch lay. At the top of the slope one of the ranch's hands sat on a rock, his shotgun across his knees. As he approached the man slid
down from his perch and brought the gun up to his stubbled chin.
"Geddown," he snarled, "nice and slow." Bradburn pulled up and raised his hands shoulder high.
"Sure but go easy mister," he said, looking down at the man who stood, legs spread wide, with the shotgun aimed at his chest. The dude was sporting a massive boner and his levis were so threadbare
that Bradburn wondered why the denim didn't split under the pressure. Seeing the direction of the Marshal's glance the man sniggered, then snarled again, "C'mon geddown, move it," and Bradburn complied, knowing what the man would see between his legs. "Jesus," the hand whispered, gawping at Bradburn's groin as he lowered the gun to waist level. "Ain't that some salami you're packin' there
Marshal." To his surprise Bradburn heard himself reply, "From where I'm standing it looks like a damn good day for salamis." The man chuckled and said, in a friendlier tone, Move away from your horse and turn round slowly." Satisfied that Bradburn was not armed he checked the saddlebags before saying, "Okay Marshal,you can remount and move on."
The ranch was a large white, rambling building surrounded by numerous outhouses and a big corral.
On one side stood a huge water tank on four iron legs. A wooden platform had been fixed to the cross stays just below the tank itself and Bradburn saw that two armed men sat on it, watching as he approached the ranch gate, really no more than a gap in the fence with two tall raised posts and a third forming a lintel. As instructed, he stopped, pulled his shirt out of his levis and stripped it off.
Thursday, 9 January 2014
The Marshal Page 6
Page 6
"Guess I'd better bring a couple of hands along in case somebody tries to break it up," Viking said.
"No, don't do that. He's respected but not much liked and nobody will interfere. Fact is, more than
a few will enjoy it. But if they think its more than man on man, they'll expect me to step in. And if I don't they will.
Chapter 6
The hitching posts out front of the hotel and saloon were full and Viking had to go away along the street to tether his horse. He was wearing a snug-fitting buckskin shirt, open to then navel and his tightest levis. Walking along the sandy street, he enjoyed the feel of the rough denim rubbing his rock-hard cock and the looks it was attrracting. He saw that a big man was standing, legs wide spread, in front of the saloon doors. As he came up the wooden steps the man said,
"Sorry mister, you can't enter unless you've got business with the town committee."
"I've got business with the Marshal," Viking snarled and roughly shoving the man aside, pushed
open the saloon doors.
The six guys that made up the committee, sitting at a long table, stared at Viking and the men seated at round tables scattered around the huge room turned their heads to gape. It had gone so quiet, you could have heard a flea fart fifty yards away. Viking stood feet apart, arms held a foot or so away from his hips, and glared at Bradburn, who sat with Corky near the long table. The Marshal fixed his eyes on the hand, with fingers curled, so near Viking's gun, and, also holding his arms away from his body, slowly stood up.
"What the fuck do you want, Ohlson?"
"I came here to give you a thrashin'," Viking replied and began to unbuckle his gunbelt. "Shootin's too good for you."
Bradburn made no reply, but his hands went to his buckle. Viking threw aside his gunbelt and watched the Marshal undo his. Neither man was wearing chaps and Viking could see that the bastard was fully hard. Awesome though the sight was, it was the massive bulge of Bradburn's bollocks that interested him most. Brawling had taught Viking a lot and he saw that as the key to besting this smaller but immensely strong man.
Bradburn dropped his gunbelt on the table and, stepping around it, moved out to face Viking. He had a moment to sense that Viking was a harder and meaner man than when they last had fought, before he had to duck a punch to his head. In the same instant, he stepped forward and drove his fist into Viking's belly. The blond cowboy grunted and it seemed that he would fall back. But it was a feint and, as Bradburn moved forward again he took a tremendous blow to the side of the head. He staggered sideways and received a hard punch to the mouth. His ears still ringing from the first blow to his head, Bradburn stepped back but Viking moved in again with a hail of punches. Twisting and ducking, Bradburn dodged or deflected most and delivered a hard left and then a right cross to Viking's head. Now with his ears ringing, Viking drew back.
Warily the two men circled each other, trading punches and Corky felt a stab of excitement each time Viking's huge fists struck home. He saw that by keeping Bradburn outside his longer reach, Viking was able to deliver punches with impunity. But again and again, Bradburn managed to get in close and deliver hard telling blows before Viking could drive him back. Both men were now bleeding and weakening but sported rock-hard erections, as probably did most of those watching, Corky thought.
Viking knew that he had to let Bradburn in if he was to deliver the deciding blow. And this was proving difficult and dangerous. The bastard, close to, was devastating. Bradburn surged forward and slipped on the blood that was beginning to splatter the wooden floor. He was momentarily off balance and Viking, seeing his chance, drove his knee up into the bulge between Bradburn's wide-spread thighs. The force and viciousness of the blow drew a collective gasp from the watching men. Bradburn gave an explosive grunt and as he bucked forward, Viking swung up his fist, with all his weight behind it, in an uppercut to his chin. The Marshal's head snapped back and the power of the punch lifted him off his feet and flung him backwards. Unable to contain his excitement, Corky leapt up as Bradburn crashed to the floor and lay spreadeagled on his back. Stepping forward quickly, Viking stamped down on the Marshal's groin and ground his bollocks under the heel of his boot. Bradburn's roar of pain was drowned by a huge cheer from the watching men, most of whom were now on their feet.
Reaching down, Viking yanked the badly dazed Marshal to his feet. "Now you're gonna get the thrashin' you deserve," he snarled. But only Bradburn heard above the din. They squared up again
and Viking threw a haymaker. Bradburn ducked, flung a return punch, missed and took two jabs in the belly and a hard right cross that made him reel. He deflected the next blow to his head but took a flurry of jarring punches to the body. He drove a punch at Viking's jaw but the blond cowboy rode it and moved in again with two blows that rocked B|radburn's head from side to side. The Marshal stumbled back and stood swaying on his feet as his world tilted alarmingly. Viking's body thrummed with excitement and elation sang in his blood. Beating a man was better than an orgasm and he'd only just started on this big-dicked ape. His fist made a loud wet thud as he drove it into Bradburn's spunk sodden package and the Marshal skittered backwards, tripped over a chair and crashed to the floor again. Viking hauled him up by his shirt front, and slammed him hard against one the bar's ornate wooden pillars and pinned him to it with a beefy forearm across his throat. As the weakened Marshal struggled to dislodge the choking arm, Viking looked down at his target, the bulging groin. Bradburn's massive rock-hard cock was held at right-angles by the tight damp denim giving Viking a clear view of the truly impressive bollocks. "You've had this coming for years, you bastard," he hissed and drove his fist hard into them. Bradburn gave a loud bark of pain and as he sagged against the pillar his thighs spread wider. Now Viking slammed his fist into the fully exposed balls and felt them spread under his knuckles. Bradburn fought desperately for breath, and as he tried to tear away the arm that was crushing his throat, took two more hard punches in the balls. He was losing consiousness and he slumped further down the pillar as his balls were savagely pounded. Finally Viking's straining arm could no longer support the weight of the sagging muscular man and he drew back. Bradburn slid down the pillar onto his knees and pitched forward on to his face.
Like all bullies, Viking underestimated his victim. While he smiled around at the cheering men, Bradburn pushed himself up onto his knees. His world steadied and ignoring the pain of his battered balls, he reached into himself, seeking strength. He found rage. It boiled up, engulfing him, and when he looked up, he saw the preening Viking through a red mist. With a roar of fury he came off the floor
and charged. He slammed into the gaping cowboy and they both crashed to the ground. Bradburn pinned Viking down with his thighs and delivered a series of hammer blows to his head. Struggling
"Guess I'd better bring a couple of hands along in case somebody tries to break it up," Viking said.
"No, don't do that. He's respected but not much liked and nobody will interfere. Fact is, more than
a few will enjoy it. But if they think its more than man on man, they'll expect me to step in. And if I don't they will.
Chapter 6
The hitching posts out front of the hotel and saloon were full and Viking had to go away along the street to tether his horse. He was wearing a snug-fitting buckskin shirt, open to then navel and his tightest levis. Walking along the sandy street, he enjoyed the feel of the rough denim rubbing his rock-hard cock and the looks it was attrracting. He saw that a big man was standing, legs wide spread, in front of the saloon doors. As he came up the wooden steps the man said,
"Sorry mister, you can't enter unless you've got business with the town committee."
"I've got business with the Marshal," Viking snarled and roughly shoving the man aside, pushed
open the saloon doors.
The six guys that made up the committee, sitting at a long table, stared at Viking and the men seated at round tables scattered around the huge room turned their heads to gape. It had gone so quiet, you could have heard a flea fart fifty yards away. Viking stood feet apart, arms held a foot or so away from his hips, and glared at Bradburn, who sat with Corky near the long table. The Marshal fixed his eyes on the hand, with fingers curled, so near Viking's gun, and, also holding his arms away from his body, slowly stood up.
"What the fuck do you want, Ohlson?"
"I came here to give you a thrashin'," Viking replied and began to unbuckle his gunbelt. "Shootin's too good for you."
Bradburn made no reply, but his hands went to his buckle. Viking threw aside his gunbelt and watched the Marshal undo his. Neither man was wearing chaps and Viking could see that the bastard was fully hard. Awesome though the sight was, it was the massive bulge of Bradburn's bollocks that interested him most. Brawling had taught Viking a lot and he saw that as the key to besting this smaller but immensely strong man.
Bradburn dropped his gunbelt on the table and, stepping around it, moved out to face Viking. He had a moment to sense that Viking was a harder and meaner man than when they last had fought, before he had to duck a punch to his head. In the same instant, he stepped forward and drove his fist into Viking's belly. The blond cowboy grunted and it seemed that he would fall back. But it was a feint and, as Bradburn moved forward again he took a tremendous blow to the side of the head. He staggered sideways and received a hard punch to the mouth. His ears still ringing from the first blow to his head, Bradburn stepped back but Viking moved in again with a hail of punches. Twisting and ducking, Bradburn dodged or deflected most and delivered a hard left and then a right cross to Viking's head. Now with his ears ringing, Viking drew back.
Warily the two men circled each other, trading punches and Corky felt a stab of excitement each time Viking's huge fists struck home. He saw that by keeping Bradburn outside his longer reach, Viking was able to deliver punches with impunity. But again and again, Bradburn managed to get in close and deliver hard telling blows before Viking could drive him back. Both men were now bleeding and weakening but sported rock-hard erections, as probably did most of those watching, Corky thought.
Viking knew that he had to let Bradburn in if he was to deliver the deciding blow. And this was proving difficult and dangerous. The bastard, close to, was devastating. Bradburn surged forward and slipped on the blood that was beginning to splatter the wooden floor. He was momentarily off balance and Viking, seeing his chance, drove his knee up into the bulge between Bradburn's wide-spread thighs. The force and viciousness of the blow drew a collective gasp from the watching men. Bradburn gave an explosive grunt and as he bucked forward, Viking swung up his fist, with all his weight behind it, in an uppercut to his chin. The Marshal's head snapped back and the power of the punch lifted him off his feet and flung him backwards. Unable to contain his excitement, Corky leapt up as Bradburn crashed to the floor and lay spreadeagled on his back. Stepping forward quickly, Viking stamped down on the Marshal's groin and ground his bollocks under the heel of his boot. Bradburn's roar of pain was drowned by a huge cheer from the watching men, most of whom were now on their feet.
Reaching down, Viking yanked the badly dazed Marshal to his feet. "Now you're gonna get the thrashin' you deserve," he snarled. But only Bradburn heard above the din. They squared up again
and Viking threw a haymaker. Bradburn ducked, flung a return punch, missed and took two jabs in the belly and a hard right cross that made him reel. He deflected the next blow to his head but took a flurry of jarring punches to the body. He drove a punch at Viking's jaw but the blond cowboy rode it and moved in again with two blows that rocked B|radburn's head from side to side. The Marshal stumbled back and stood swaying on his feet as his world tilted alarmingly. Viking's body thrummed with excitement and elation sang in his blood. Beating a man was better than an orgasm and he'd only just started on this big-dicked ape. His fist made a loud wet thud as he drove it into Bradburn's spunk sodden package and the Marshal skittered backwards, tripped over a chair and crashed to the floor again. Viking hauled him up by his shirt front, and slammed him hard against one the bar's ornate wooden pillars and pinned him to it with a beefy forearm across his throat. As the weakened Marshal struggled to dislodge the choking arm, Viking looked down at his target, the bulging groin. Bradburn's massive rock-hard cock was held at right-angles by the tight damp denim giving Viking a clear view of the truly impressive bollocks. "You've had this coming for years, you bastard," he hissed and drove his fist hard into them. Bradburn gave a loud bark of pain and as he sagged against the pillar his thighs spread wider. Now Viking slammed his fist into the fully exposed balls and felt them spread under his knuckles. Bradburn fought desperately for breath, and as he tried to tear away the arm that was crushing his throat, took two more hard punches in the balls. He was losing consiousness and he slumped further down the pillar as his balls were savagely pounded. Finally Viking's straining arm could no longer support the weight of the sagging muscular man and he drew back. Bradburn slid down the pillar onto his knees and pitched forward on to his face.
Like all bullies, Viking underestimated his victim. While he smiled around at the cheering men, Bradburn pushed himself up onto his knees. His world steadied and ignoring the pain of his battered balls, he reached into himself, seeking strength. He found rage. It boiled up, engulfing him, and when he looked up, he saw the preening Viking through a red mist. With a roar of fury he came off the floor
and charged. He slammed into the gaping cowboy and they both crashed to the ground. Bradburn pinned Viking down with his thighs and delivered a series of hammer blows to his head. Struggling
Wednesday, 8 January 2014
The Marshal Page 5
page 5
Bradburn had leaned back against the wall, his racing heart slowing as his breathing steadied. Jose
still knelt on hands and knees, fighting for breath. Finally Bradburn had managed tol pant,
"Christ, Jose, I shouldn't have done that, I...."
"Shut up Abe, that's just what I wanted you to do," Jose replied, climbing to his feet.
"Oh Boy, Jose, you've come in your levis," Bradburn said and they both laughed, a little shakily. Then they heard Sanchez's voice outside. Bradburn had shoved his cock away, and grabbing up their forks, they'd began to spread the fresh hay. Sanchez shouted again amd Jose had grinned to himself, his brother was showing more discretion than usual. But the expression on his face, when he'd finally appeared in the doorway, and caught sight of Bradburn's gaping fly and his brother's cum-filled levis, was something that Jose would never forget. "Mama has the meal ready. You are welcome to join us Abe," Sanchez had said.
"Thank her for me Sanchez, but I have to get back to town," Bradburn had replied and Sanchez was gone like a shot.
For a few more minutes, Jose looked out over the prairie to the point where Bradburn had disappeared. Then he became away of the cold spunk oozing down his thighs. He couldn't let Mama see him like this.
Chapter 5
It was hot in the Jailhouse. Getting up from the desk, Corky stretched and glanced at the wall clock. Eleven and he was not meeting Viking til four. He pawed his crutch. God he was so fucking horny. He was really getting addicted to that bastard's cock. He looked at the beefy bare-chested man sprawled on his cot behind the bars. Like me, ain't yah, he thought, eying the big damp bulge between the guy's legs. I'd like to help you with that, mister, but if that bastard Bradburn caught us I'd be busted. Dammit he'd go across to the saloon and get some ham 'n eggs and a beer. He locked up
and walked out into the bright sunshine.
Abe and Jose were stood at the bar and again Corky felt a sharp stab of jealousy. They turned to face him as he approached and looked like a couple of kids who'd been caught stealing apples. Corky managed a smile and said, "Hi, mine's a beer," as Jose turned to order.
"Everything okay over there," Bradburn asked.
"Sure we've only one guest and he's been fed and watered."
"Okay I'll get over there, you eat and take the rest of the day off."
"Thanks, I was plannin' on goin' up to the river later for a swim anyway."
Bradburn nodded goodbye to Jose, snatched up his stetson and strode out. They watched him leave and Jose said, "I'd like to join you but I needed back at the ranch."
"Sure, some other time then," Corky replied unable to keep the rancour out of his voice.
"Sure, I guess I'd better be on my way too, Adios." Jose replied stiffly and made his escape.
Corky had a plate of ham 'n eggs and a couple of beers before he rode out to the river. He threaded his way through the trees to Red Rock and tethered his horse where it could reach the water to drink. Pulling a towel out of his saddlebag, Corky stripped out of his sweaty clothes. His rigid cock bounced from side to side as he stepped down to the river's edge and plunged into the deep cold water. When he climbed out, some twenty minutes later, his cock ihad softened but there was still a dull ache in this balls. After towelling himself dry, he remembered what Viking had said and tugged on his boots, before making his way to the shack. He got his fishing pole and flies, and found a shady nook above the water hole.
Viking smiled to himself, all in all, it'd been a good night. He gotten the booze and let the boys have their fling. There'd been a good fist-fight and he'd plugged both the guys he'd wanted. The first had been a disappointment as he'd been too drunk to really know what was happening to him. But Oh Boy, secomnd. A big tough bastard, but he'd yelled and screamed for mercy. He'd fought back and thrashed about but Viking had rode the big bronco bastard real hard. Still smiling he ducked under the low tree branches and caught sight of Corky's red head and broad muscular back. He tethered his horse in the usual place and stripped off his shirt. When he turned, Corky was coming towards him, hard and eager.
Their coupling was long, hard and violent, only coming to an end when both men, for the moment at least, were sated. Corky sprawled on his back, bruised and sore as usual, too torpid to rinse the sweat, spunk and blood from, his body. Viking lay, with his head on Corky's body, seemingly also spent. But he was deciding if now the time had come to attempt to turn Corky's two-timing into full betrayal. Pitching his voice to sound a little more than indifferent, he said, "Ever done this with that big ape Bradburn, he's got a big enough pole between his legs?"
"No," Corky paused, the added, "Sure, he's hung like a fucking donkey, but he doesn't seem to know what to do with it." There was another longer pause, "Leastways he don't when I'm around." Viking heard the anger and frustration in Corky's voice and sat up. Turning to Corky, Viking tried to keep his growing excitement out of his voice, You're a Deputy Marshal and should always be there for him, but it seems to me you don't like him very much."
"He's an arrogant, butch-struttin' son-of-a-bitch," Corky said pushing himself up onto his elbows. Viking was unaware of the jealousy that was eating away at Corky like acid and his vehemence took him by surprise. The words were like music to his ears and he continued, "Some while ago, he was the foreman up at Dayton's ranch."
"That'd be afore you, I guess."
"Sure, I was just a hired hand at the time."
"Shit what happened?"
Shame like bile rose in Viking's throat and it was several seconds before he coud reply, and then with a life.
"I was the only one that stood up to his bullying. An' he and his cronies gave me a beating. Worked me over so bad, old Dayton fired him."
Corky sat up, his mouth gaping with surprise and Viking knew the moment had come. He paused, licked his lips and said, very quietly, "An' I'm goin' to pay him back."
"What?" ...How...What do you mean?"
"Wanna see me give him the beatin' he's bin askin' for?"
Corky made no reply but his eyes glittered with excitement and his hardening cock gave Viking his answer. He smiled, and said,
"That means you'll stand by and watch?"
"Too damned right I will mister, I'll even hold your coat."
Both men laughed, before Crky added,
"When 'n when are you going to fix him?
"Don't right know. But I want the high 'n mighty in Tyler to see their big butch Marshal beaten to pulp... Any ideas?"
"Sure, Friday the town committee have their monthly meeting at the saloon. Me and him'll be there and everybody whose anybody around here.?" Viking was delighted.
Bradburn had leaned back against the wall, his racing heart slowing as his breathing steadied. Jose
still knelt on hands and knees, fighting for breath. Finally Bradburn had managed tol pant,
"Christ, Jose, I shouldn't have done that, I...."
"Shut up Abe, that's just what I wanted you to do," Jose replied, climbing to his feet.
"Oh Boy, Jose, you've come in your levis," Bradburn said and they both laughed, a little shakily. Then they heard Sanchez's voice outside. Bradburn had shoved his cock away, and grabbing up their forks, they'd began to spread the fresh hay. Sanchez shouted again amd Jose had grinned to himself, his brother was showing more discretion than usual. But the expression on his face, when he'd finally appeared in the doorway, and caught sight of Bradburn's gaping fly and his brother's cum-filled levis, was something that Jose would never forget. "Mama has the meal ready. You are welcome to join us Abe," Sanchez had said.
"Thank her for me Sanchez, but I have to get back to town," Bradburn had replied and Sanchez was gone like a shot.
For a few more minutes, Jose looked out over the prairie to the point where Bradburn had disappeared. Then he became away of the cold spunk oozing down his thighs. He couldn't let Mama see him like this.
Chapter 5
It was hot in the Jailhouse. Getting up from the desk, Corky stretched and glanced at the wall clock. Eleven and he was not meeting Viking til four. He pawed his crutch. God he was so fucking horny. He was really getting addicted to that bastard's cock. He looked at the beefy bare-chested man sprawled on his cot behind the bars. Like me, ain't yah, he thought, eying the big damp bulge between the guy's legs. I'd like to help you with that, mister, but if that bastard Bradburn caught us I'd be busted. Dammit he'd go across to the saloon and get some ham 'n eggs and a beer. He locked up
and walked out into the bright sunshine.
Abe and Jose were stood at the bar and again Corky felt a sharp stab of jealousy. They turned to face him as he approached and looked like a couple of kids who'd been caught stealing apples. Corky managed a smile and said, "Hi, mine's a beer," as Jose turned to order.
"Everything okay over there," Bradburn asked.
"Sure we've only one guest and he's been fed and watered."
"Okay I'll get over there, you eat and take the rest of the day off."
"Thanks, I was plannin' on goin' up to the river later for a swim anyway."
Bradburn nodded goodbye to Jose, snatched up his stetson and strode out. They watched him leave and Jose said, "I'd like to join you but I needed back at the ranch."
"Sure, some other time then," Corky replied unable to keep the rancour out of his voice.
"Sure, I guess I'd better be on my way too, Adios." Jose replied stiffly and made his escape.
Corky had a plate of ham 'n eggs and a couple of beers before he rode out to the river. He threaded his way through the trees to Red Rock and tethered his horse where it could reach the water to drink. Pulling a towel out of his saddlebag, Corky stripped out of his sweaty clothes. His rigid cock bounced from side to side as he stepped down to the river's edge and plunged into the deep cold water. When he climbed out, some twenty minutes later, his cock ihad softened but there was still a dull ache in this balls. After towelling himself dry, he remembered what Viking had said and tugged on his boots, before making his way to the shack. He got his fishing pole and flies, and found a shady nook above the water hole.
Viking smiled to himself, all in all, it'd been a good night. He gotten the booze and let the boys have their fling. There'd been a good fist-fight and he'd plugged both the guys he'd wanted. The first had been a disappointment as he'd been too drunk to really know what was happening to him. But Oh Boy, secomnd. A big tough bastard, but he'd yelled and screamed for mercy. He'd fought back and thrashed about but Viking had rode the big bronco bastard real hard. Still smiling he ducked under the low tree branches and caught sight of Corky's red head and broad muscular back. He tethered his horse in the usual place and stripped off his shirt. When he turned, Corky was coming towards him, hard and eager.
Their coupling was long, hard and violent, only coming to an end when both men, for the moment at least, were sated. Corky sprawled on his back, bruised and sore as usual, too torpid to rinse the sweat, spunk and blood from, his body. Viking lay, with his head on Corky's body, seemingly also spent. But he was deciding if now the time had come to attempt to turn Corky's two-timing into full betrayal. Pitching his voice to sound a little more than indifferent, he said, "Ever done this with that big ape Bradburn, he's got a big enough pole between his legs?"
"No," Corky paused, the added, "Sure, he's hung like a fucking donkey, but he doesn't seem to know what to do with it." There was another longer pause, "Leastways he don't when I'm around." Viking heard the anger and frustration in Corky's voice and sat up. Turning to Corky, Viking tried to keep his growing excitement out of his voice, You're a Deputy Marshal and should always be there for him, but it seems to me you don't like him very much."
"He's an arrogant, butch-struttin' son-of-a-bitch," Corky said pushing himself up onto his elbows. Viking was unaware of the jealousy that was eating away at Corky like acid and his vehemence took him by surprise. The words were like music to his ears and he continued, "Some while ago, he was the foreman up at Dayton's ranch."
"That'd be afore you, I guess."
"Sure, I was just a hired hand at the time."
"Shit what happened?"
Shame like bile rose in Viking's throat and it was several seconds before he coud reply, and then with a life.
"I was the only one that stood up to his bullying. An' he and his cronies gave me a beating. Worked me over so bad, old Dayton fired him."
Corky sat up, his mouth gaping with surprise and Viking knew the moment had come. He paused, licked his lips and said, very quietly, "An' I'm goin' to pay him back."
"What?" ...How...What do you mean?"
"Wanna see me give him the beatin' he's bin askin' for?"
Corky made no reply but his eyes glittered with excitement and his hardening cock gave Viking his answer. He smiled, and said,
"That means you'll stand by and watch?"
"Too damned right I will mister, I'll even hold your coat."
Both men laughed, before Crky added,
"When 'n when are you going to fix him?
"Don't right know. But I want the high 'n mighty in Tyler to see their big butch Marshal beaten to pulp... Any ideas?"
"Sure, Friday the town committee have their monthly meeting at the saloon. Me and him'll be there and everybody whose anybody around here.?" Viking was delighted.
Tuesday, 7 January 2014
The Marshal Page 4
Page 4
Corky began to get scared as he knelt on the mattress, head down and butt up, and felt Viking smearing the grease into his hairy crack. He winced as a thick finger was roughly shoved into him, then groaned as it was joined by another "Come on you bastard, open up, I could'nt even git a chipmunk's prick up there. Corky fought down his fear and relaxed his sphincter as he knew he must.
"That's better mister," Viking whispered, working two more fingers in. There was a wet slurping noise as, with rough circular movements, Corky was worked open. Suddenly the fingers were with-
drawn and a moment later Corky bucked violently as Viking gave his ass a resounding double slap.
"No mister, stay right there," Viking snarled, gripping the back of Corky's head and pushing his face into the mattress. With his free hand, Viking positioned his glans over Corky's puckerhole and shoved hard. Even opened and well greassed as he was, the pain was excrutiating and Corky howled as the huge glans slid into him. Viking continued to push and it quickly faded to an acceptable level. "Oh My God, more sir," Corky sobbed as he felt inch after inch of the massive cock boring up into his guts. But Viking didn't push all the way in, instead he shunted back ad began to fuck Corky, each thrust longer and harder. Soon he was slamming in his cock to the hilt and Corky was in an ecstasy of exquisite pain. He slid forward onto his belly, totally subjugated.
The fuck was long and relentless and both men were grunting like animals and running in sweat when Viking at last felt his exposion nearing. He increased his pace slamming into Corky in a frenzy. His eruption was heralded by a mighty thrust and he threw back his head and yelled as he fired a seemingly endless load into Corky guts. Slowly the spasms subsided and Viking pulled out abruptly. He rolled onto his back beside his supine victim and the last of his spunk pulsed from his still rock- hard cock. After some minutes, Corky pushed himself up from the mattress and groaned. "My God, that was some fuck," he whispered and turned his head to look at the big man sprawled beside him. He looked at the glistening cock that had just fucked him nearly senseless and saw the last beads of thick white spunk oozing down the rigid shaft. SuddenlyViking sat up and said, hia voice deep and husky, "It ain't over yet, mister."
"Oh no, I'm as sore as hell. My ass can't take another pounding like that for a while."
"Didn't you hear me boy, I said I ain't finished yet?"
"Oh come on mister, I...."
"Shuddup, an flip over onto your back." The voice was soft and menacing, and Corky felt a tingle of fear as he stared into the cold blue eyes. "Oh hell, okay, but for Christ sake go easy, huh," Corky replied, as he rolled over onto his back.
"I'm gonna plug that sweet ass of yours a couple more times afore I'm through and I'll do it any way I like." Corky made no reply but Viking saw his cock hardening again.
Viking lifted Corky's legs up onto his shoulders and slammed into him again. Corky gasped, there was no way that he was ever going to be able to take this guy without pain. But if quickly faded and the glorious sensation of being filled with surging cock engulfed him again. The angle of penetration changed and Corky's prostate began to take a real beating. With a scream he exploded, firing a load of spunk onto his chest and into his face. And the remorseless pounding continued.
Chapter 4
Out at the Rugero ranch, Jose watched Bradburn climb into his saddle and ride away. He lifted his arms onto the top bar of the corral fence and rested his chin on them as the receding figure reached a low ridge and dropped from sight. Jose licked his lips and could still faintly taste the Marshal's delicious spunk on his tongue. There was a soft footfall behind him and his older brother Sanchez said, "You obviously took my advice then?"
"Yes and thanks," Jose replied, recalling the conversation that they'd had here on the same spot the night before.
"You should do something about it," his brother had said.
"About what?"
"Oh come on Jose, we've all noticed how you look at the gringo."
"Oh God, even Mama?"
"Yes and at first she was upset. But I made her see that she had enough sons to give her all the grandchildren she could ever want. Its all right Jose, she still loves you."
"But I have tried Sanchez, but he pushed me away. He's not interested."
"Jose you dumbwit," Sanchez had chuckled, why do you think he keeps coming out to the ranch."
"He's become Papa's friend."
"Suree and we've all become fond of him."
"But he's not...."
"Listen Jose, he's a strong man, a loner, not used to showing or sharing his emotions with anybody.
Try again." Then his brother had smiled and added softly. "I think I'd like a gringo brother like him." And so this morning, in the barn Jose had tried another approach. He'd just stripped off his shirt to begin cleaning out the stalls when Bradburn strode in. Without a word, he too peeled off his shirt and grabbed a fork. Jose had felt the familiar tightening in his belly that he always had when this man was around. They'd worked for an hour or more and both were sweating freely before taking a rest. Bradburn had stood, his huge hands gripping the top of the long-handled fork. "Jesus, its hot work," he whispered, his blue eyes fixed on Jose's face. He hadn't replied but had taken the fork from him and tossed it against the barn wall. Bradburn had dropped his massive arms to his sides as Jose gripped him around the waist and pulled him towards him. He'd looked up into Bradburn's face and seen the sensual lips slightly parted in surprise. The muscular body in his arms had been rigid and as he dropped his eyes to the thick hairy pecs before his face, he'd realized that the big man had stopped breathing. Jose had licked up a large bead of perspiration then buried his nose in the sweat-slicked hair between the two hard mounds of muscle. The scent of fresh male sweat had made his blood quicken, as he'd licked his way across to Bradburn's right nipple and sucked it into his mouth. He'd nipped it gently and he'd heard the Marshal groan and draw in a lungfuls of air before he began to breath deeply.
Emboldened. Jose had then nuzzled his way down Bradburn's hairy muscle-ridged belly and undone the heavy belt buckle. He'd dropped to his knees and resisted the temptation to fondle the huge cock bulge. Instead with trembling fingers he'd undone Bradburn's fly and yanked the denim down over the massive hairy thighs. The cock was a good thick ten inches and as Jose had stared it had began top harden, the foreskin slipping back to fully expose the exceptionally large and beautiful gleaming
glans. A large bead of precum dropped on a long glassy thread and Jose gathered it up in his mouth.
Then he'd closed his lips over the tip of the glans and began to very slowly massage it, gradually taking more amd more into his mouth. Bradburn's fingers had gripped his head and forced him further and further down his straining cock. Jose's mouth had been washed with a glorious salty taste and when his nose was finally buried in Bradburn's thick public bush, the overpowering smell of raw male virility had made his senses reel. Then Bradburn had began to face-fuck him, his thrusts becoming harder and rougher as lust strummed through him. Jose had clung to the Marshal's thighs totally overwhelmed by the ferocity. Bradburn had not had it for some time and certainly never like this and when he'd come it was an enormous gut-wrenching explosion.
Corky began to get scared as he knelt on the mattress, head down and butt up, and felt Viking smearing the grease into his hairy crack. He winced as a thick finger was roughly shoved into him, then groaned as it was joined by another "Come on you bastard, open up, I could'nt even git a chipmunk's prick up there. Corky fought down his fear and relaxed his sphincter as he knew he must.
"That's better mister," Viking whispered, working two more fingers in. There was a wet slurping noise as, with rough circular movements, Corky was worked open. Suddenly the fingers were with-
drawn and a moment later Corky bucked violently as Viking gave his ass a resounding double slap.
"No mister, stay right there," Viking snarled, gripping the back of Corky's head and pushing his face into the mattress. With his free hand, Viking positioned his glans over Corky's puckerhole and shoved hard. Even opened and well greassed as he was, the pain was excrutiating and Corky howled as the huge glans slid into him. Viking continued to push and it quickly faded to an acceptable level. "Oh My God, more sir," Corky sobbed as he felt inch after inch of the massive cock boring up into his guts. But Viking didn't push all the way in, instead he shunted back ad began to fuck Corky, each thrust longer and harder. Soon he was slamming in his cock to the hilt and Corky was in an ecstasy of exquisite pain. He slid forward onto his belly, totally subjugated.
The fuck was long and relentless and both men were grunting like animals and running in sweat when Viking at last felt his exposion nearing. He increased his pace slamming into Corky in a frenzy. His eruption was heralded by a mighty thrust and he threw back his head and yelled as he fired a seemingly endless load into Corky guts. Slowly the spasms subsided and Viking pulled out abruptly. He rolled onto his back beside his supine victim and the last of his spunk pulsed from his still rock- hard cock. After some minutes, Corky pushed himself up from the mattress and groaned. "My God, that was some fuck," he whispered and turned his head to look at the big man sprawled beside him. He looked at the glistening cock that had just fucked him nearly senseless and saw the last beads of thick white spunk oozing down the rigid shaft. SuddenlyViking sat up and said, hia voice deep and husky, "It ain't over yet, mister."
"Oh no, I'm as sore as hell. My ass can't take another pounding like that for a while."
"Didn't you hear me boy, I said I ain't finished yet?"
"Oh come on mister, I...."
"Shuddup, an flip over onto your back." The voice was soft and menacing, and Corky felt a tingle of fear as he stared into the cold blue eyes. "Oh hell, okay, but for Christ sake go easy, huh," Corky replied, as he rolled over onto his back.
"I'm gonna plug that sweet ass of yours a couple more times afore I'm through and I'll do it any way I like." Corky made no reply but Viking saw his cock hardening again.
Viking lifted Corky's legs up onto his shoulders and slammed into him again. Corky gasped, there was no way that he was ever going to be able to take this guy without pain. But if quickly faded and the glorious sensation of being filled with surging cock engulfed him again. The angle of penetration changed and Corky's prostate began to take a real beating. With a scream he exploded, firing a load of spunk onto his chest and into his face. And the remorseless pounding continued.
Chapter 4
Out at the Rugero ranch, Jose watched Bradburn climb into his saddle and ride away. He lifted his arms onto the top bar of the corral fence and rested his chin on them as the receding figure reached a low ridge and dropped from sight. Jose licked his lips and could still faintly taste the Marshal's delicious spunk on his tongue. There was a soft footfall behind him and his older brother Sanchez said, "You obviously took my advice then?"
"Yes and thanks," Jose replied, recalling the conversation that they'd had here on the same spot the night before.
"You should do something about it," his brother had said.
"About what?"
"Oh come on Jose, we've all noticed how you look at the gringo."
"Oh God, even Mama?"
"Yes and at first she was upset. But I made her see that she had enough sons to give her all the grandchildren she could ever want. Its all right Jose, she still loves you."
"But I have tried Sanchez, but he pushed me away. He's not interested."
"Jose you dumbwit," Sanchez had chuckled, why do you think he keeps coming out to the ranch."
"He's become Papa's friend."
"Suree and we've all become fond of him."
"But he's not...."
"Listen Jose, he's a strong man, a loner, not used to showing or sharing his emotions with anybody.
Try again." Then his brother had smiled and added softly. "I think I'd like a gringo brother like him." And so this morning, in the barn Jose had tried another approach. He'd just stripped off his shirt to begin cleaning out the stalls when Bradburn strode in. Without a word, he too peeled off his shirt and grabbed a fork. Jose had felt the familiar tightening in his belly that he always had when this man was around. They'd worked for an hour or more and both were sweating freely before taking a rest. Bradburn had stood, his huge hands gripping the top of the long-handled fork. "Jesus, its hot work," he whispered, his blue eyes fixed on Jose's face. He hadn't replied but had taken the fork from him and tossed it against the barn wall. Bradburn had dropped his massive arms to his sides as Jose gripped him around the waist and pulled him towards him. He'd looked up into Bradburn's face and seen the sensual lips slightly parted in surprise. The muscular body in his arms had been rigid and as he dropped his eyes to the thick hairy pecs before his face, he'd realized that the big man had stopped breathing. Jose had licked up a large bead of perspiration then buried his nose in the sweat-slicked hair between the two hard mounds of muscle. The scent of fresh male sweat had made his blood quicken, as he'd licked his way across to Bradburn's right nipple and sucked it into his mouth. He'd nipped it gently and he'd heard the Marshal groan and draw in a lungfuls of air before he began to breath deeply.
Emboldened. Jose had then nuzzled his way down Bradburn's hairy muscle-ridged belly and undone the heavy belt buckle. He'd dropped to his knees and resisted the temptation to fondle the huge cock bulge. Instead with trembling fingers he'd undone Bradburn's fly and yanked the denim down over the massive hairy thighs. The cock was a good thick ten inches and as Jose had stared it had began top harden, the foreskin slipping back to fully expose the exceptionally large and beautiful gleaming
glans. A large bead of precum dropped on a long glassy thread and Jose gathered it up in his mouth.
Then he'd closed his lips over the tip of the glans and began to very slowly massage it, gradually taking more amd more into his mouth. Bradburn's fingers had gripped his head and forced him further and further down his straining cock. Jose's mouth had been washed with a glorious salty taste and when his nose was finally buried in Bradburn's thick public bush, the overpowering smell of raw male virility had made his senses reel. Then Bradburn had began to face-fuck him, his thrusts becoming harder and rougher as lust strummed through him. Jose had clung to the Marshal's thighs totally overwhelmed by the ferocity. Bradburn had not had it for some time and certainly never like this and when he'd come it was an enormous gut-wrenching explosion.
Monday, 6 January 2014
The Marshal Page 3
Page 3
Viking clumped along the wooden sidewalk and found the Jailhouse, opposite the hotel and saloon. He peered through the window and, seeing the Deputy was there, pushed open the door and entered.
Corky pulled his boots off the desk and jumped to his feet. His violet-blue eyes went wide with surprise before dropping involuntarily to the huge blond cowboy's groin. Viking stood, legs spread wide, and let the ginger dude look his fill before saying softly, "Seems you're still interested eh?"
Corky made no reply and just kept staring. "You deaf or somethin' mister?" Corky's eyes flicked up to meet Viking's, "Hell no sir its just....."
"Just what?"
"I ain't seen anything as big as that before."
"If'n its too much for you, I'll bid you good day 'n be on my way," Viking sneered thinking of the hairy hostler at the Livery."No wait sir, I didn't mean that."
"So what did you mean?"
Corky licked his lips, "I'd sure like to..to"
"Take it up the ass?" Viking finished for him. Corky could only nod.
Viking smiled, "If'n you're so keen, mister, might I suggest you tell me where we can go. Or do you want me to give it to you over that there fuckin' desk?"
Corky laughed nervously, "I can't git out of here till Abe gets back." He thought for a moment then added, "How about I meet you by the river in say, three hours?"
"That's fine with me, I'll git something to eat over at the saloon."
His voice hoarse with excitement, Corky told Viking how to find Red Rock and, as the big cowboy left, realized the next three hours would seem like an eternity.
Despite the shade of the trees, it was very warm by the river. Corky took off his thick cotton shirt, folded it neatly, and placed it beside a large tree trunk. He fished out the tin of grease from his ass-pocket and sat down. Putting it on top of his shirt, he leaned back against the tree and stretched out his legs. His cock was rock hard and his guts squirmed with excitement. He closed his eyes and listened to the murmur of the river. What the hell was the matter with him. He'd taken big cocks before. For a while he resisted the temptation to pull on his cock but the urge became almost unbearable and his hand dropped to his straining fly. He opened the first button and, as he paused to stroke his throbbing cock, through the denim, he heard the muffled sound of a horse's hooves. Sitting up, he saw Viking tethering his horse by his own at the water's edge. He watched Viking remove his black stetson, unbuckle his gunbelt, and tugging his shirt out of his levis, peel it off. Licking his lips, he caught a glimpse of the magnificently muscled torso and the huge smooth pecs with their large nipples, before Viking bent forward to undo his chaps. When he straightened up, Corky saw the full extent of Viking's bulge and he felt a twinge of fear. He gave a groan and climbed to his feet as Viking strutted towards him.
The two men stood barely a foot apart and Corky stared up at Viking's handsome fine-chiselled face and the thin lips shaded by the huge blond moustache. He reached up, intending to kiss the cruel mouth and received a stinging slap in the face. Stumbling back a pace, Corky felt tears well in his eyes. "I don't want that kind of sick shit, got on your knees," Viking barked "An' put y'r mouth to better use." Corky,his ears still ringing from the vicious slap, dropped to his knees and Viking moved forward until his groin was barely an inch from Corky's face. His mouth filled with saliva and he inhaled the strong smell of Viking's sweat and maleness. For a moment, he pressed his lips against the damp denim, then licked his way along the hard shaft to the huge glans. Here the smell of spunk and sweat was almost overpowering. "Undo me with y'r teeth," Viking hissed, but Corky could not pull himself away. Viking stepped back and gave Corky another slap. "Do it, you bastard. C'mon, do as y'r told." Corky wrapped his arms around the massive and began the slow but delicious task.
Corky undid two buttons and was struggling with the third when he was given another hard slap. "For Christ sake, you useless son-of-a-bitch," Viking snarled, ripping his spit-soaked fly open and sending the final button flying. And there was the hugest cock Corky had ever seen. Bigger and more beautiful by far, than any he could have imagined in his wildest dreams It must have been nearly a foot long, he guessed, as Viking eased out his egg-sized balls. It was big enough to kill him, he thought, but in his sex-fevered state he really didn't care. "Eat it," Viking snapped, and stretching his mouth wide, Corky took in the huge precum-slicked glans. Shunting his head gently back and forth, he gradually took more and more of the thick rock-hard shaft into his mouth. But the glans was pressing against the back of his throat before he'd barely taken half of the enormous cock. Viking gripped Corky's head and slowly began to face-fuck him, steadily working the mammoth cock down his gullet. A skilled cock-sucker, Corky was able to take inch after inch more of the thick shaft without gagging until his nose was buried in Viking's wiry blond pubic hair. "Christ mister, y'r the first son-of-a-bitch that's ever been able to take all of me," Viking snarled as he face-fucked Corky hard, feeling his balls slapping against the ginger dude's chin. Pressure began to build and Viking slowed, in the hope that he could delay the inevitable. It was a vain attempt and he pulled his cock back out of the constricting throat, flooding Corky's mouth with thick salty spunk, as he exploded.
When the last spasm had ebbed away, Viking released his grip on Corky's had and stepped back. He looked down at the muscular bare-chested man on his knees before him. Corky's cock tented the denim between his spread thighs and spunk oozed from the sides of his mouth and dripped from his chin as he looked up at Viking "Y'r some cock-sucker mister. Now where do I give you the fucking you've been asking for?" Corky, unable for the moment, to speak, his bruised throat still clogged with spunk, pointed to the old trapper's hut, where he and Jose had stowed a straw mattress and a few blankets. Viking glanced at it, knuckles on hips, his drooling cock jutting out of his levis."I guess that'll have to do," he said and turned his attention back to Corky. "Okay, strip, let's see if'n you have an ass worth fuckin'." Corky tugged off his boots and levis and was about to stand up when Viking said, Put y'r boots back on, I think a nakid man without boots looks fuckin' dumb." Corky complied and climbed to his feet. Viking studied the muscular body and the thick, cut seven-incher sticking out of its bush of ginger hair. "Turn around." After a moment Viking murmured, "Now that's reeal pretty.
No-little boy buns, but a big manly ass beggin' to be rode. Let's git down to that hut, mister."
"Yessir, but I'm sure as hell going to need that," Corky replied, pointing to the tin sitting on his folded shirt. Viking laughed as Corky retreieved his grease and followed him as he headed down to the shack.
Viking clumped along the wooden sidewalk and found the Jailhouse, opposite the hotel and saloon. He peered through the window and, seeing the Deputy was there, pushed open the door and entered.
Corky pulled his boots off the desk and jumped to his feet. His violet-blue eyes went wide with surprise before dropping involuntarily to the huge blond cowboy's groin. Viking stood, legs spread wide, and let the ginger dude look his fill before saying softly, "Seems you're still interested eh?"
Corky made no reply and just kept staring. "You deaf or somethin' mister?" Corky's eyes flicked up to meet Viking's, "Hell no sir its just....."
"Just what?"
"I ain't seen anything as big as that before."
"If'n its too much for you, I'll bid you good day 'n be on my way," Viking sneered thinking of the hairy hostler at the Livery."No wait sir, I didn't mean that."
"So what did you mean?"
Corky licked his lips, "I'd sure like to..to"
"Take it up the ass?" Viking finished for him. Corky could only nod.
Viking smiled, "If'n you're so keen, mister, might I suggest you tell me where we can go. Or do you want me to give it to you over that there fuckin' desk?"
Corky laughed nervously, "I can't git out of here till Abe gets back." He thought for a moment then added, "How about I meet you by the river in say, three hours?"
"That's fine with me, I'll git something to eat over at the saloon."
His voice hoarse with excitement, Corky told Viking how to find Red Rock and, as the big cowboy left, realized the next three hours would seem like an eternity.
Despite the shade of the trees, it was very warm by the river. Corky took off his thick cotton shirt, folded it neatly, and placed it beside a large tree trunk. He fished out the tin of grease from his ass-pocket and sat down. Putting it on top of his shirt, he leaned back against the tree and stretched out his legs. His cock was rock hard and his guts squirmed with excitement. He closed his eyes and listened to the murmur of the river. What the hell was the matter with him. He'd taken big cocks before. For a while he resisted the temptation to pull on his cock but the urge became almost unbearable and his hand dropped to his straining fly. He opened the first button and, as he paused to stroke his throbbing cock, through the denim, he heard the muffled sound of a horse's hooves. Sitting up, he saw Viking tethering his horse by his own at the water's edge. He watched Viking remove his black stetson, unbuckle his gunbelt, and tugging his shirt out of his levis, peel it off. Licking his lips, he caught a glimpse of the magnificently muscled torso and the huge smooth pecs with their large nipples, before Viking bent forward to undo his chaps. When he straightened up, Corky saw the full extent of Viking's bulge and he felt a twinge of fear. He gave a groan and climbed to his feet as Viking strutted towards him.
The two men stood barely a foot apart and Corky stared up at Viking's handsome fine-chiselled face and the thin lips shaded by the huge blond moustache. He reached up, intending to kiss the cruel mouth and received a stinging slap in the face. Stumbling back a pace, Corky felt tears well in his eyes. "I don't want that kind of sick shit, got on your knees," Viking barked "An' put y'r mouth to better use." Corky,his ears still ringing from the vicious slap, dropped to his knees and Viking moved forward until his groin was barely an inch from Corky's face. His mouth filled with saliva and he inhaled the strong smell of Viking's sweat and maleness. For a moment, he pressed his lips against the damp denim, then licked his way along the hard shaft to the huge glans. Here the smell of spunk and sweat was almost overpowering. "Undo me with y'r teeth," Viking hissed, but Corky could not pull himself away. Viking stepped back and gave Corky another slap. "Do it, you bastard. C'mon, do as y'r told." Corky wrapped his arms around the massive and began the slow but delicious task.
Corky undid two buttons and was struggling with the third when he was given another hard slap. "For Christ sake, you useless son-of-a-bitch," Viking snarled, ripping his spit-soaked fly open and sending the final button flying. And there was the hugest cock Corky had ever seen. Bigger and more beautiful by far, than any he could have imagined in his wildest dreams It must have been nearly a foot long, he guessed, as Viking eased out his egg-sized balls. It was big enough to kill him, he thought, but in his sex-fevered state he really didn't care. "Eat it," Viking snapped, and stretching his mouth wide, Corky took in the huge precum-slicked glans. Shunting his head gently back and forth, he gradually took more and more of the thick rock-hard shaft into his mouth. But the glans was pressing against the back of his throat before he'd barely taken half of the enormous cock. Viking gripped Corky's head and slowly began to face-fuck him, steadily working the mammoth cock down his gullet. A skilled cock-sucker, Corky was able to take inch after inch more of the thick shaft without gagging until his nose was buried in Viking's wiry blond pubic hair. "Christ mister, y'r the first son-of-a-bitch that's ever been able to take all of me," Viking snarled as he face-fucked Corky hard, feeling his balls slapping against the ginger dude's chin. Pressure began to build and Viking slowed, in the hope that he could delay the inevitable. It was a vain attempt and he pulled his cock back out of the constricting throat, flooding Corky's mouth with thick salty spunk, as he exploded.
When the last spasm had ebbed away, Viking released his grip on Corky's had and stepped back. He looked down at the muscular bare-chested man on his knees before him. Corky's cock tented the denim between his spread thighs and spunk oozed from the sides of his mouth and dripped from his chin as he looked up at Viking "Y'r some cock-sucker mister. Now where do I give you the fucking you've been asking for?" Corky, unable for the moment, to speak, his bruised throat still clogged with spunk, pointed to the old trapper's hut, where he and Jose had stowed a straw mattress and a few blankets. Viking glanced at it, knuckles on hips, his drooling cock jutting out of his levis."I guess that'll have to do," he said and turned his attention back to Corky. "Okay, strip, let's see if'n you have an ass worth fuckin'." Corky tugged off his boots and levis and was about to stand up when Viking said, Put y'r boots back on, I think a nakid man without boots looks fuckin' dumb." Corky complied and climbed to his feet. Viking studied the muscular body and the thick, cut seven-incher sticking out of its bush of ginger hair. "Turn around." After a moment Viking murmured, "Now that's reeal pretty.
No-little boy buns, but a big manly ass beggin' to be rode. Let's git down to that hut, mister."
"Yessir, but I'm sure as hell going to need that," Corky replied, pointing to the tin sitting on his folded shirt. Viking laughed as Corky retreieved his grease and followed him as he headed down to the shack.
Saturday, 4 January 2014
The Marshal Page 2
Page 2
forearms were massive and the pecs great slabs of hard curved muscle. Black hair swirled over the chest and down over the ridged belly, thickening as it disappeared under the wide leather belt. And it was what Jose had seen below that belt that had made his guts twist with lust. Bradburn was hung like a donkey and the tight, damp denim left very little to the imagination.
It was sundown before they'd been through and they'd all sluiced off the sweat and dirt at the pump before trooping, bare-chested, into the house. Mamma had laid out dinner on the huge kitchen table, which they attacked with great gusto. Then afterwards, they had sat around the table, relaxed and laughing. It was getting late, when Bradburn had said to Jose's mother, "Will you please excuse me, Senora? I need to go out for a smoke."
"You are my guest Senor, please feel free to smoke here."
"That is kind, but I need a breath of air, Senora."
Jose's mother had smiled and nodded her head and Bradburn had gone outside. Jose had been so horny his balls were aching but he'd waited a while before excusing himself and going looking for the Marshal. He'd found him, with his elbows leaning on the newly repaired fence, gazing out at the moonlit prairie. Putting his arm around Bradburn's huge shoulders, he'd felt the hard muscles stir as the Marshal turned his head to look at him. Jose had gazed at the rugged bearded face for a long moment before he'd closed his mouth over the half-parted lips. For several minutes, Bradburn had returned the passionate kiss, then he'd gently pushed Jose away. "No, not now...its not right....I,"
the Marshal had said, his voice, deep and husky. Appalled by what he'd done, Jose blurted out,
"Oh My God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Too much wine, I guess, on top of everything else.
But I'm grateful to you, we all are." There had been a tense moment before Bradburn had chuckled
and Jose had felt that tightening under his heart again ."I'll take that as a compliment. Smoke?" They'd smoked their cheroots in companionable silence, before returning slowly to the ranch.
Jose had thought often of Bradburn's words, remembering the feel of his muscles under his arm and the smell of his sweat and maleness. It had to be Corky, he'd reasoned. Two big virile men, shacked-
up in a couple of pokey rooms above the Jailhouse. Jose could'nt have been more wrong!
The thought of Abe, coming through the saloon doors any moment made Corky's cock stir and his irritation with Jose was forgotten. Since he'd first laid eyes on the big bastard some six months he'd wanted him up him. A score of times, he'd caught him naked and had openly eyed up the superb body and awesome cock, making no secret of what he wanted. He'd also taken every opportunity to show Bradburn his own tight rounded butt. Desire still burned in him fiercely but his frustration had gradually turned to festering reesentment. He even caught himself wondering if he even hated Bradburn. "A penny for them Cork," Jose said.
"Oh sure, gimme another shot," Corky replied with a grin. He looked at his handsome friend and felt his spirits lifting. He was about to get the fuck of his life.
The doors of the saloon opened and Bradburn strode in, nodding to guys who greeted him as he made his way to the bar. Corky's guts twisted as he saw the great bulge of cock, still hard from his ride, and turned his head to call the barman. Jose just stared. Bradburn knew what the Spanish guy was looking at and felt a surge of pleasure. Nobody out here in the territory, leastways not during the hot summer, wore any underwear and it was a common enough sight to see a guy hard in his levis and not caring a damn who saw. The good-looking Hispanic must have seen scores of bulging crutches and Bradburn realised that he cared. He flung an arm around the Deputy's shoulders and gave him a rough hug, before turning to Jose. "Your father saw the people he needed to see and had a talk with Captain White, in charge of the cavalry allotted to the territory. Seems there's been quite a few Injun raids lately and he'll be moving his troops up north soon.
"Thanks Abe, I guess I'll be getting along home to the ranch," Jose said, stretching out his hand.
Bradburn grasped it and felt a jolt of excitement. He held it a little longer than necessary , enjoying the feel of the strong fingers gripping his. Jose gave Corky a playful punch in the shoulder. "I'm going down to do some fishing about an hour before sundown, coming along?"
"Yeah sure, the usual place?" Corky replied, his spirits rising even higher. The big waterhole at Red Rock was where they swam, fished and fucked. His cock began to harden.
They watched Jose leave and, as they refilled their glasses, the saloon doors swung open again. Seeing Bradburn's eyes widen, Corky turned to look at the man who had just entered, and now it was his time to stare. He was the biggest man Corky had ever seen. His plaited flaxen hair and thick moustache reminded Corky of the pictures of Viking warriors he'd seen in books as a kid. Corky's mouth went dry when he saw the man's crutch. The man's glans was hidden by his chaps but Corky could see that he could give Bradburn a run for his money.
Viking stood, legs wide braced, his right close to his gun and stared at the two law men. Bradburn looked as mean and as dangerous as ever he thought and turned his attention to the Deputy. Very nice, he thought. very nice indeed as he noted the ginger man's muscular body. The guy's eyes were rivetted to his crutch and Viking smiled to himself. This could be very interesting. Bradburn's deep voice snapped like a whip, "What are you doing in town, Ohlson?"
"Came in to have a few beers. Free world ain't it?"
"Sure for people who behave and keep their fists to themselves."
"An' what if I don't Bradburn? Gonna try 'n give me another hidin?"
"Yeah if I have to."
"I said try, Bradburn. Cos when you do, I'm gonna beat you to pulp."
The Marshal took a step forward, his eyes blazing.
"Easy," Viking said, "I'll decide when. I want all your fuckin' lickspittles to see it."
"Why you arrogant..."
"Okay, Marshal, sir, I'm goin'. The guys who drink down at the bar by the Livery suit me a whole lot better." Viking winked at the still gawping Deputy and turned on his heel.
Viking climbed into the saddle and grinned to himself as he headed back to the bar where he'd left a couple of ranchhands drinking. If the Deputy was Bradburn's buddy that would be real handy. By the way the ginger dude had been looking at his pecker just now, he knew he'd come looking for it. Viking decided he'd come to Tyler again in a couple of days, on his own, and he'd make damn sure
that the Deputy got it.
Chapter 3
It was nearly a week beflore Viking got to Tyler again. The Boss had been fucking around preparing for his annual visit to Denver and had kept him pretty busy. But now the old bastard had gone, leaving Viking in charge of the ranch for two months. In a day or so, he'd send a couple of the men down to Tyler for a wagonload of booze. Then he'd let the guys off the rein for a night. They were as horny as hell and it'd be fun to see which ones got nailed. Anyway, there were a couple of asses that he'd earmarked for his own personal atrtention. Outside the Livery he climbed off his horse, even more fucking hard than usual, and tossed the reins to the bare-chested hostler. He dug his hand into the ass-pocket of his levis for some coins and noticed that the hairy bastard's eyes were glued to his groin. "You're a big guy, reckon you can take that? he said, expecting the man to back off. The hostler's cheeks flushed red but he didn't. Instead he surprised Viking by saying, "Yep, I ain't met a stallion yet that I couldn't accomodate."
"I'll bear that in mind," Viking replied with a grin.
"You do that mister, it'll be real pleasure fitting you in."
Both men roared with laughter. Viking paid the man and still laughing headed for the bar.
"Nope, he's out at the Rugero ranch. The Marshal's been up at the Hispanic place a few times since the Injun raid," the bartender replied to Viking's question. Then added, "But the Deputy's up at the Jailhouse if you want him." You bet your sweet ass I want him, Viking thought, and took a sip of rye.
Then picking his words carefully he asked, "How's he get on with the Marshal? He seems an arrogant son-of-a-bitch to me."
"Oh they're real buddies. Though sometimes Bradburn tries to 'big-brother' Corky. Pisses him to hell."
"Sure it does," Viking replied feeling very pleased with himself. He took another sip, it was just what he wanted to hear.
forearms were massive and the pecs great slabs of hard curved muscle. Black hair swirled over the chest and down over the ridged belly, thickening as it disappeared under the wide leather belt. And it was what Jose had seen below that belt that had made his guts twist with lust. Bradburn was hung like a donkey and the tight, damp denim left very little to the imagination.
It was sundown before they'd been through and they'd all sluiced off the sweat and dirt at the pump before trooping, bare-chested, into the house. Mamma had laid out dinner on the huge kitchen table, which they attacked with great gusto. Then afterwards, they had sat around the table, relaxed and laughing. It was getting late, when Bradburn had said to Jose's mother, "Will you please excuse me, Senora? I need to go out for a smoke."
"You are my guest Senor, please feel free to smoke here."
"That is kind, but I need a breath of air, Senora."
Jose's mother had smiled and nodded her head and Bradburn had gone outside. Jose had been so horny his balls were aching but he'd waited a while before excusing himself and going looking for the Marshal. He'd found him, with his elbows leaning on the newly repaired fence, gazing out at the moonlit prairie. Putting his arm around Bradburn's huge shoulders, he'd felt the hard muscles stir as the Marshal turned his head to look at him. Jose had gazed at the rugged bearded face for a long moment before he'd closed his mouth over the half-parted lips. For several minutes, Bradburn had returned the passionate kiss, then he'd gently pushed Jose away. "No, not now...its not right....I,"
the Marshal had said, his voice, deep and husky. Appalled by what he'd done, Jose blurted out,
"Oh My God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Too much wine, I guess, on top of everything else.
But I'm grateful to you, we all are." There had been a tense moment before Bradburn had chuckled
and Jose had felt that tightening under his heart again ."I'll take that as a compliment. Smoke?" They'd smoked their cheroots in companionable silence, before returning slowly to the ranch.
Jose had thought often of Bradburn's words, remembering the feel of his muscles under his arm and the smell of his sweat and maleness. It had to be Corky, he'd reasoned. Two big virile men, shacked-
up in a couple of pokey rooms above the Jailhouse. Jose could'nt have been more wrong!
The thought of Abe, coming through the saloon doors any moment made Corky's cock stir and his irritation with Jose was forgotten. Since he'd first laid eyes on the big bastard some six months he'd wanted him up him. A score of times, he'd caught him naked and had openly eyed up the superb body and awesome cock, making no secret of what he wanted. He'd also taken every opportunity to show Bradburn his own tight rounded butt. Desire still burned in him fiercely but his frustration had gradually turned to festering reesentment. He even caught himself wondering if he even hated Bradburn. "A penny for them Cork," Jose said.
"Oh sure, gimme another shot," Corky replied with a grin. He looked at his handsome friend and felt his spirits lifting. He was about to get the fuck of his life.
The doors of the saloon opened and Bradburn strode in, nodding to guys who greeted him as he made his way to the bar. Corky's guts twisted as he saw the great bulge of cock, still hard from his ride, and turned his head to call the barman. Jose just stared. Bradburn knew what the Spanish guy was looking at and felt a surge of pleasure. Nobody out here in the territory, leastways not during the hot summer, wore any underwear and it was a common enough sight to see a guy hard in his levis and not caring a damn who saw. The good-looking Hispanic must have seen scores of bulging crutches and Bradburn realised that he cared. He flung an arm around the Deputy's shoulders and gave him a rough hug, before turning to Jose. "Your father saw the people he needed to see and had a talk with Captain White, in charge of the cavalry allotted to the territory. Seems there's been quite a few Injun raids lately and he'll be moving his troops up north soon.
"Thanks Abe, I guess I'll be getting along home to the ranch," Jose said, stretching out his hand.
Bradburn grasped it and felt a jolt of excitement. He held it a little longer than necessary , enjoying the feel of the strong fingers gripping his. Jose gave Corky a playful punch in the shoulder. "I'm going down to do some fishing about an hour before sundown, coming along?"
"Yeah sure, the usual place?" Corky replied, his spirits rising even higher. The big waterhole at Red Rock was where they swam, fished and fucked. His cock began to harden.
They watched Jose leave and, as they refilled their glasses, the saloon doors swung open again. Seeing Bradburn's eyes widen, Corky turned to look at the man who had just entered, and now it was his time to stare. He was the biggest man Corky had ever seen. His plaited flaxen hair and thick moustache reminded Corky of the pictures of Viking warriors he'd seen in books as a kid. Corky's mouth went dry when he saw the man's crutch. The man's glans was hidden by his chaps but Corky could see that he could give Bradburn a run for his money.
Viking stood, legs wide braced, his right close to his gun and stared at the two law men. Bradburn looked as mean and as dangerous as ever he thought and turned his attention to the Deputy. Very nice, he thought. very nice indeed as he noted the ginger man's muscular body. The guy's eyes were rivetted to his crutch and Viking smiled to himself. This could be very interesting. Bradburn's deep voice snapped like a whip, "What are you doing in town, Ohlson?"
"Came in to have a few beers. Free world ain't it?"
"Sure for people who behave and keep their fists to themselves."
"An' what if I don't Bradburn? Gonna try 'n give me another hidin?"
"Yeah if I have to."
"I said try, Bradburn. Cos when you do, I'm gonna beat you to pulp."
The Marshal took a step forward, his eyes blazing.
"Easy," Viking said, "I'll decide when. I want all your fuckin' lickspittles to see it."
"Why you arrogant..."
"Okay, Marshal, sir, I'm goin'. The guys who drink down at the bar by the Livery suit me a whole lot better." Viking winked at the still gawping Deputy and turned on his heel.
Viking climbed into the saddle and grinned to himself as he headed back to the bar where he'd left a couple of ranchhands drinking. If the Deputy was Bradburn's buddy that would be real handy. By the way the ginger dude had been looking at his pecker just now, he knew he'd come looking for it. Viking decided he'd come to Tyler again in a couple of days, on his own, and he'd make damn sure
that the Deputy got it.
Chapter 3
It was nearly a week beflore Viking got to Tyler again. The Boss had been fucking around preparing for his annual visit to Denver and had kept him pretty busy. But now the old bastard had gone, leaving Viking in charge of the ranch for two months. In a day or so, he'd send a couple of the men down to Tyler for a wagonload of booze. Then he'd let the guys off the rein for a night. They were as horny as hell and it'd be fun to see which ones got nailed. Anyway, there were a couple of asses that he'd earmarked for his own personal atrtention. Outside the Livery he climbed off his horse, even more fucking hard than usual, and tossed the reins to the bare-chested hostler. He dug his hand into the ass-pocket of his levis for some coins and noticed that the hairy bastard's eyes were glued to his groin. "You're a big guy, reckon you can take that? he said, expecting the man to back off. The hostler's cheeks flushed red but he didn't. Instead he surprised Viking by saying, "Yep, I ain't met a stallion yet that I couldn't accomodate."
"I'll bear that in mind," Viking replied with a grin.
"You do that mister, it'll be real pleasure fitting you in."
Both men roared with laughter. Viking paid the man and still laughing headed for the bar.
"Nope, he's out at the Rugero ranch. The Marshal's been up at the Hispanic place a few times since the Injun raid," the bartender replied to Viking's question. Then added, "But the Deputy's up at the Jailhouse if you want him." You bet your sweet ass I want him, Viking thought, and took a sip of rye.
Then picking his words carefully he asked, "How's he get on with the Marshal? He seems an arrogant son-of-a-bitch to me."
"Oh they're real buddies. Though sometimes Bradburn tries to 'big-brother' Corky. Pisses him to hell."
"Sure it does," Viking replied feeling very pleased with himself. He took another sip, it was just what he wanted to hear.
The Marshal Page 1
Page 1
The showdown finally came. The foreman and the big blond cowboy, squared up to each other. Abe Bradburn a big man, with close-cropped black hair and beard, was half a head shorter than the huge swede, who, with his long blond hair pulled back into a thick plait and his huge walrus moustache, was known as Viking by the ranchhands. Bradburn was a hard uncompromising man, who expected his orders to be followed to the letter. Although not liked particularly by the men, he was respected for his toughness and fair-dealing. But Viking, in the short time he had been at the ranch, had earned little respect. The hands found him cocky and loud, and he intiminated them by his sheer size. They gathered round exitedly, eager to see which one of these tough sons-of-bitch would bite the dust.
Bradburn's deep voice held the unmistakable ring of authority as he said, "I'll forget what you said, if you get your ass back to the bunkhouse."
"Like the fuck I will asshole," Viking sneered in his heavily accented English and threw a wild haymaker at the foreman. Bradburn ducked and as the huge fist whistled over his head, stepped forward and delivered two hard blows to Viking's body. The cowboy staggered back and Bradburn came inside the bigger man's reach again to drive a right cross at his head. The blow rocked Viking on his feet and in desperation he drove his right fist hard up into the foreman's belly. The punch had all the bigger man's weight behind it and Bradburn, giving an explosive grunt as he was propelled backwards, stumbled over his feet and went down. One of ranchhands yipped and yelled, "C'mon Viking, stomp on the bastards's bollocks," his face flushed and his stiff cock tenting the front of his levis. But the foreman was on his feet in an instant and as he straightened up, slammed his fist into Viking's belly. Now it was the cowboy's turn to grunt and, as he bucked forward, Bradburn's right arm swept up, in a terrific uppercut. Viking's head snapped back, his body arched and he went down onto his back. There were howls of delight from the hands as Bradburn, reached down and yanked the dazed cowboy to his feet. "Ready to do what you're told mister?" Viking made no reply as he brushed sand from the arms of his torn shirt. "Yeah, blondie, say yes real nice to the man," a ranchhand yelled and all the men roared with laughter. Viking looked around at the jeering men before turning his face back to Bradburn. "My God, you'll pay for that," he hissed and drove his fist into the foreman's mouth. Bradburn rode the punch but felt the salty taste of blood on his tongue as he dodged aside.
The two men traded punches, but Bradburn's were harder, more telling and the hands began to cheer as the bigger man weakened. The foreman drove the bruised, bleeding cowboy around, grudgingly admiring the guy's capacity for taking punishment before he finally sank to the floor. The last thing Viking heard, before darkness closed over him, was the hand's whoops of delight. They'd pay.
Vengeance, of a kind, was soon forthcoming. Hearing of the fight, which the Boss termed a beating, he summoned Bradburn. They had heated words and the foreman was fired on the spot. Seeing Viking as a big tough man and feeling misplaced sympathy for him, the Boss made him the new foreman. Methodically, Viking picked on the guys who had mocked him giving them all a good hiding. He'd started with the softer targets, gaining experience att the time, until he had improved enough to take on the tougher men. When he had all the hands on the ranch under his domination, he began to take on the dudes that came in all the time on the drives. These were real mean bastards and several times he'd gotten the worst of the encounter. But he learnt how to fight with fist, boot, knee and any weapon he could lay his hands on. He loved to subjugate the really butch ones and would make them lick his boots until he was quietly told that these guys expected more it they got beaten.
They wanted total humiliation. They expected to be fucked in the ass. The first time he'd rammed home his thick eleven inches the dude had hollered and begged for mercy. It had been the best fuck of his life. For Viking everything seemed to be going just great until he heard that Bradburn had showed up in Tyler, the nearest town His skill with his fists and gun had gotten him the job of Deputy and very soon he was promoted to Marshal.
Chapter 2
In The Last Chance Saloon, Deputy Marshal Corky Drew stood at the bar. At just under six feet, he was a good-looking dude. The small neat nose over the auburn moustache made him look younger than his 35 years. He was broad-shouldered and his tight muscular body was the inheritance of farming as a youngster and the many hard years railroading. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the bar and the denim pulled tight across his beautiful butt, round, hard and sassy. He turnd his head to look at the man propping up the bar beside him, "How's your Maw takin' all this Jose?"
"Oh she's okay, Cork, she feels safe enough with me and my brothers. Anyways, Paw will be back from Red Butte by now. Abe said he'd take him back to the ranch on his way here to Tyler."
As he looked at his friend, Corky felt a stab of jealousy. He'd been seeing too damn much of Abe recently. He was about the same height as Corky but leaner. He had a small, slightly aquiline nose, large deep brown eyes and high cheekbones. He wore a neatly trimmed black moustache over his full, sensual lips and his beard-shadowed jaw was firm and square. He was also, Corky knew, as horny as hell. And Corky had fucked him in barns, corrals, out on the prairie and even in the Jailhouse office.
He didn't seem to be able to get enough cock up his tight little Spanish ass. And by Christ, thought Corky, there was plenty in the nearly all male town. He pulled out his watch and, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice said to Jose, "The Marshal said that they'd leave Red Butte at sun-up. I guess he'll be here any minute now."
Jose had seen the look on Corky's face when he'd mentioned Abe by name and felt a tinge of guilt.
It had been two weeks now since the rustlers had attacked their ranch. The had smashed the fences of one corral, taken a dozen horses and fired the barn before Jose's father. brothers and hired hands drove them off. Abe Bradburn had telegraphed the brand details down to Red Butte but it looked more like an Injun raid and it was very unlikely they'd see their horses again. One of the hands had taken a bullet and had been hurt bad, and the Marshal had lifted the young Mexican into his huge arms and carried him to his horse. Then holding him as gently as if he'd been a babe, he rode down to the doctor in Tyler and Jose had felt a tightness under the heart. With the wounded boy in safe hands, Bradburn had returned to the ranch, stripped to the waist and laboured alongside his Paw and brothers, repairing the fences and partly-burnt barn. It was then that Jose had felt a tightness some-
where else. The Marshal's torso, wide-shouldered and deep chested, was awesome. The biceps and
The showdown finally came. The foreman and the big blond cowboy, squared up to each other. Abe Bradburn a big man, with close-cropped black hair and beard, was half a head shorter than the huge swede, who, with his long blond hair pulled back into a thick plait and his huge walrus moustache, was known as Viking by the ranchhands. Bradburn was a hard uncompromising man, who expected his orders to be followed to the letter. Although not liked particularly by the men, he was respected for his toughness and fair-dealing. But Viking, in the short time he had been at the ranch, had earned little respect. The hands found him cocky and loud, and he intiminated them by his sheer size. They gathered round exitedly, eager to see which one of these tough sons-of-bitch would bite the dust.
Bradburn's deep voice held the unmistakable ring of authority as he said, "I'll forget what you said, if you get your ass back to the bunkhouse."
"Like the fuck I will asshole," Viking sneered in his heavily accented English and threw a wild haymaker at the foreman. Bradburn ducked and as the huge fist whistled over his head, stepped forward and delivered two hard blows to Viking's body. The cowboy staggered back and Bradburn came inside the bigger man's reach again to drive a right cross at his head. The blow rocked Viking on his feet and in desperation he drove his right fist hard up into the foreman's belly. The punch had all the bigger man's weight behind it and Bradburn, giving an explosive grunt as he was propelled backwards, stumbled over his feet and went down. One of ranchhands yipped and yelled, "C'mon Viking, stomp on the bastards's bollocks," his face flushed and his stiff cock tenting the front of his levis. But the foreman was on his feet in an instant and as he straightened up, slammed his fist into Viking's belly. Now it was the cowboy's turn to grunt and, as he bucked forward, Bradburn's right arm swept up, in a terrific uppercut. Viking's head snapped back, his body arched and he went down onto his back. There were howls of delight from the hands as Bradburn, reached down and yanked the dazed cowboy to his feet. "Ready to do what you're told mister?" Viking made no reply as he brushed sand from the arms of his torn shirt. "Yeah, blondie, say yes real nice to the man," a ranchhand yelled and all the men roared with laughter. Viking looked around at the jeering men before turning his face back to Bradburn. "My God, you'll pay for that," he hissed and drove his fist into the foreman's mouth. Bradburn rode the punch but felt the salty taste of blood on his tongue as he dodged aside.
The two men traded punches, but Bradburn's were harder, more telling and the hands began to cheer as the bigger man weakened. The foreman drove the bruised, bleeding cowboy around, grudgingly admiring the guy's capacity for taking punishment before he finally sank to the floor. The last thing Viking heard, before darkness closed over him, was the hand's whoops of delight. They'd pay.
Vengeance, of a kind, was soon forthcoming. Hearing of the fight, which the Boss termed a beating, he summoned Bradburn. They had heated words and the foreman was fired on the spot. Seeing Viking as a big tough man and feeling misplaced sympathy for him, the Boss made him the new foreman. Methodically, Viking picked on the guys who had mocked him giving them all a good hiding. He'd started with the softer targets, gaining experience att the time, until he had improved enough to take on the tougher men. When he had all the hands on the ranch under his domination, he began to take on the dudes that came in all the time on the drives. These were real mean bastards and several times he'd gotten the worst of the encounter. But he learnt how to fight with fist, boot, knee and any weapon he could lay his hands on. He loved to subjugate the really butch ones and would make them lick his boots until he was quietly told that these guys expected more it they got beaten.
They wanted total humiliation. They expected to be fucked in the ass. The first time he'd rammed home his thick eleven inches the dude had hollered and begged for mercy. It had been the best fuck of his life. For Viking everything seemed to be going just great until he heard that Bradburn had showed up in Tyler, the nearest town His skill with his fists and gun had gotten him the job of Deputy and very soon he was promoted to Marshal.
Chapter 2
In The Last Chance Saloon, Deputy Marshal Corky Drew stood at the bar. At just under six feet, he was a good-looking dude. The small neat nose over the auburn moustache made him look younger than his 35 years. He was broad-shouldered and his tight muscular body was the inheritance of farming as a youngster and the many hard years railroading. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the bar and the denim pulled tight across his beautiful butt, round, hard and sassy. He turnd his head to look at the man propping up the bar beside him, "How's your Maw takin' all this Jose?"
"Oh she's okay, Cork, she feels safe enough with me and my brothers. Anyways, Paw will be back from Red Butte by now. Abe said he'd take him back to the ranch on his way here to Tyler."
As he looked at his friend, Corky felt a stab of jealousy. He'd been seeing too damn much of Abe recently. He was about the same height as Corky but leaner. He had a small, slightly aquiline nose, large deep brown eyes and high cheekbones. He wore a neatly trimmed black moustache over his full, sensual lips and his beard-shadowed jaw was firm and square. He was also, Corky knew, as horny as hell. And Corky had fucked him in barns, corrals, out on the prairie and even in the Jailhouse office.
He didn't seem to be able to get enough cock up his tight little Spanish ass. And by Christ, thought Corky, there was plenty in the nearly all male town. He pulled out his watch and, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice said to Jose, "The Marshal said that they'd leave Red Butte at sun-up. I guess he'll be here any minute now."
Jose had seen the look on Corky's face when he'd mentioned Abe by name and felt a tinge of guilt.
It had been two weeks now since the rustlers had attacked their ranch. The had smashed the fences of one corral, taken a dozen horses and fired the barn before Jose's father. brothers and hired hands drove them off. Abe Bradburn had telegraphed the brand details down to Red Butte but it looked more like an Injun raid and it was very unlikely they'd see their horses again. One of the hands had taken a bullet and had been hurt bad, and the Marshal had lifted the young Mexican into his huge arms and carried him to his horse. Then holding him as gently as if he'd been a babe, he rode down to the doctor in Tyler and Jose had felt a tightness under the heart. With the wounded boy in safe hands, Bradburn had returned to the ranch, stripped to the waist and laboured alongside his Paw and brothers, repairing the fences and partly-burnt barn. It was then that Jose had felt a tightness some-
where else. The Marshal's torso, wide-shouldered and deep chested, was awesome. The biceps and
Friday, 3 January 2014
A tale from the Wild West
We'll start the New Year with a tale from the Wild West for a change. For those who liked the Boer War stories, there are more to follow.
TAM
TAM
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)