Cowboy Lust
My Sophomore year in college, I needed to clear my head of book learning, and lab rats, and get back to my basics. I was raised on a ranch in Montana, and I missed the life of early to bed early to rise, and the lowing of little doggys on the open range. I took a summer job on a ranch near Santa Fe, New Mexico to earn some money and clear my head for the tough year ahead.
I reported for duty the week after school let out, and was picked up at the bus station by Hank, a lanky drink of water in a beaten up old Jeep. Hank didn't talk much, but I gathered there were about twelve hands on the place already, counting me, and they were expecting three more in the morning. He was getting tired of playing taxi for the new boys.
We pulled to a stop next to a long adobe bunkhouse, that looked like it was built back in the days of Billy the kid, and when I made some such comment, Hank snorted through his nose, and said something about him bein' a worthless little shit.
"Shoulda shot that sumbitch myself. Had the chanct enough times. Saved ol' Pat Garret the trouble a making up all that bullshit."
"Hank, just how old are you?"
"Sommers round ninety I reckon. You know Billy lived til 1928, didn't you?"
"No I didn't know that. But are you still working this ranch?"
"Aw hell no. I own th' sumbitch. I jes play taxi fer th' hep." He spit the greasy black stuff on the ground again, and pointed to the bunkhouse. A slick of the stuff he was chewing ran down his stubbly chin, and he wiped it away before pointing again. "You sleep in there. We all eat out behind the cookhouse," He looked up at the sun, and spit again. "Supper in twenny minuts. Don't be late or you won't get much." I climbed out of the Jeep, and Hank drove off toward the house across the compound.
After a typical ranch dinner of slabs of beefsteak, fried potatoes biscuits and redeye gravy, the crew was given our assignments for the next day. I was assigned along with two other cowboys named Jack and Manuel to saddle up and take enough grub along to spend a week popping brush up Thompson creek. I didn't know much about the lay of the land, but Hank told me Manuel was raised on the ranch, and knew the canyon like the back of his hand.
Back in the bunkhouse, Jack, Manuel and me sat around talking about the task, and heard from Manuel that we were in for a treat.
"Thompson creek canyon is the most beautiful on the ranch, which is the size of New Hampshire. There's a little cabin with bunks, and a stove. A big swimming hole outside the door, and running water for showers. The drawback is it ain't got no hot water heater. No electricity neither." We turned in early, eager to get an early start.
Four A.M. found us being rousted out of bed by an already dressed and pissed off cook. "Get yer asses out a bed ya lazy bums. Yer coffee's getting cold an' my hot biscuits and bacon ain't gettin' any hotter neither." We rolled out and pulled on our clothes, rubbing our sleepy eyes, and scratching itches. We all stumbled out of the still slumbering bunk souse, and stood in a line out back and relieved our bladders in the dust.
It took half an hour after eating to pack three mules, saddle our horses, and round up a change of mounts for each of us, and start off with Manuel in the lead for the distant canyon. Sunrise caught us an hour later, on the banks of Thompson's creek.
"This here's Thompson's creek boys," Manuel said. "Ol' man Thompson named it for himself. He built the cabin we'll be stayin' in up at the box end. He was a queer ol' bird, died about fifteen year ago. I was the one found him, I was eight at the time. I used to go visit him `cause he'd pay good money for a few favors, an' I always needed money when I was a kid. Candy an' shit like that."
"What kinda favors a eight year old boy do for a ol' geezer Manuel?" Jack asked.
"I never said he was no ol' geezer Jack. He wern't no more than thirty I reckon. Died a snake bite, like anyone of us could in this country."
"So what kinda favors Manuel?" Manuel rode for a long time in silence, choosing not to answer Jack's pointed question. As we were entering the mouth of the canyon, still blue with morning mists rising off the waters of the creek, he stopped his horse, and leaned over the saddle and spit his first gob of tobacco juice on a coiled rattler. The juicewad caught the snake square on the head, and it recoiled, rattling its horny tail buttons, and causing the animals to turn skittish. I hadn't even seen the snake.
"I got to admit," Manuel said, resuming the trek up the canyon. "Ol' man Thompson had some weird ideas about favors. One time, he had me strip down and stand in the water of the creek, cold as ice, while he painted a picher of me."
"He was an artist?" I was starting to be intrigued with the dead Mr. Thompson.
"Yeah. He was. My moma told me that all artists was a little bit queer, an' I ought not to get around him, but he done nice things for me, an' he paid good money for favors like I said."
"You still ain't told us what kinda favors you done for him." Jack muttered loud enough for Manuel to hear.
"O.K. Jack, I'll tell you so's you'll keep your mouth shut. Ol' man Thompson liked to suck boys off. Always paid a buck or two for the favor. A few of the older boys used to come up here, let him do other things, and he paid better for that."
"What was them other things Manuel?" Jack wasn't about to keep his mouth shut.
"Well, I come up here onct, and surprised him fuckin' Billy Bob Smily's asshole. I'd never seen nobody gettin' cornholed before, but ol' man Thompson was show cornholin' ol' Billy Bob good."
"You ever let him cornhole you Manuel?" Jack had a grin on his face.
"Not really. I onct put some bacon grease between my thighs, and let him slide between my legs `til he shot off. Paid me two dollars for that favor."
"I'll bet." Jack smirked.
"Say Manuel," I piped up. "You ever do any of this stuff after you got older?"
"Shit yeah. Ain't no fuckin' women aroun'. Jes a bunch a horny cowboys. I'll admit I played aroun' with a few dicks and buttholes in my time. How about you guys?"
"Shit man," Jack said. "If it wasn't fer cocks and buttholes I'd still be a stone virgin. Women don't really like a real cowboy. They like them city boys what take `em dancin' an' drinkin' in them honky tonks. I ain't got time nor money to waste on that cowshit."
"How about you?" Manuel directed his question to me.
"Well, I grew up around cowboys in Montana, an' I reckon I had my first cornholin' when I was twelve or thirteen."
"Who done it to ya?" Manuel was squeezing his lump of cockflesh in his saddle.
"His name was Charlie Flowers, worked for my folks as a foreman several years. Had a dick on him most stallions would envy. He just loved my butthole. Used to take me with him into the hills to supposedly help with the counts and roundups, but really, it was to plug my butt with his big dick. I must a taken a gallon of his cum up my butt over the years I knew him."
"And you Jack? What was your first time?" Manuel had unbuttoned his Levis and had hauled his big stiff cock out and was jacking on it.
"Well, I'm embarrassed to say it, but it was my daddy fucked me the first time."
"Really?" I looked at Jack, and wondered at the ease with which he'd revealed his father's history.
"Yeah. I'd done somethin' he didn't like, I don't member much of want it was now, an' after supper, he took me down to the barn, and whaled the shit out of my bare ass with his belt. After he thought I'd learnt my lesson, he started tryin' to comfort me, and was rubbin' some bag balm on my welts, and next thing I know, his rough ol' finger's slidin' inta my hole. I kinda liked it, an' before long, he slipped his ol' hard johnson up my butt too. An' that I did like. My moma was dead, the year before from the Pneumonia, an' he tole me he was so horny all the time he couldn't think straight. Me an' him slept together after that, til he got too feeble to do it anymore. We sold the ranch, an' put him in a rest home. He died last year."
"Sorry to hear that Jack." I was.
"So," Manuel spoke. "You boys half as horny as me, we'll have a good time this week." The three of us grinned at each other and rode on up the canyon.
The cabin was small, but the bunks were comfortable, and the swimming hole was wonderful. We unsaddled and hobbled the horses, and the replacement stock, and unloaded the mules, and hobbled them as well.
We stripped and ran splashing into the cold waters of Thompson's creek, and scrubbed ourselves with sand until the dust and sweat of the trail was gone, and the coarse grains left our skins glowing.
Manuel was the first to start the fun. He swam up behind Jack, and stood up, his hard shaft coming up between Jack's legs. Jack reached for the stiff log between his thighs, and squeezed the head while Manuel hugged himself to Jack's back, and humped him. That signaled an end to the swimming party, and we all made for the shore, and a patch of lush grass on the bank. The sun dappled grass, was ideal for our fun and games, soft and not too exposed to the hot sun, being completely overhung by a huge Cottonwood tree.
Manuel had left a small bag on the grass before going into the stream, and now revealed it contained rubbers and lube. He wasted little time suiting himself up, and bending Jack over and greasing his hole with a couple of horny fingers. Jack's asshole, was open and ready, and Manuel, plowed his big dick into him. They were both on their knees, and Jack straightened up, and started jacking on himself. I couldn't resist his ten inches of leaking log, and got on my knees in front of him and swallowed his thickness. As Manuel fucked into his butt, Jack fucked into my throat.
Jack squeezed a gob of lube onto his hand and fingers, and slapped it into the crack of my ass, and as I blew him, he worked his rough and horny fingers into my tender asshole. Before too long, he had most of his hand probing my butthole. When he started to get hot enough to cum, he started groaning and humping my gagging throat. He made a fist in my assring, and forced his hand into me to the wrist. He started pumping my ass hard, stroking my prostate, which was exactly what Manuel was doing to his, and before long, we were all blasting into the stratosphere, shooting cum like there was no tomorrow.
After a rest, Manuel, climbed over Jack, and put another rubber on. He laid down on my body, and worked his stiffness against my hole. After the preparation Jack's hand had made, he slipped right into me. He laid his head on my chest, and began a long slow fuck. It felt like a slow moving freight train with two hundred cars was making its way through my asshole.
Watching, made Jack's rod rise again, and he was soon suited up, and sinking slowly into Manuel's hole. I felt like I was being fucked by two studs at one time. I could actually feel Jack's big dick pumping into Manuel as he pumped his into me. My own cock was rock hard between Manuel and me, and the friction of our bodies rubbing together, brought me closer and closer to the brink of a massive ejaculation.
When my cock and balls contracted, and the hot fluid began to spurt from my piss slit, my asshole tightened its grip on Manuel's cock, and he moaned in my ear. His grunted Spanish told me he was emptying his nuts in my ass. That in turn, caused his butt cheeks to tighten down hard on Jack's big dick, and he too began thrashing into Manuel's ass, cuming for all he was worth.
After that, we bathed again, and set about fixing some food to eat. The animals had wandered up the canyon a ways, and the sun was already going out of the deep rocky cleft. It was hours from sunset, but the canyon dimmed as the sun traversed west across the sky, and the angle of light falling into the canyon diminished. Birds came to the stream, and their songs filled the air. It was good to be alive.
End