The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is fiction. Use protection in real life. `Got condom?'
"Out In The Wild, Wild West" 28 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"What tha?" John Toles sang out.
"Please. Don't turn me in. I need to escape. I can make it worth your while."
The twenty-eight year old, never afraid to better himself, even if it meant taking a risk, listened to hear Steve Connors out.
"Alright, but not here."
Walking off Captain Domingo's ship, John Toles and Steve Connor headed towards the town square. After heading up the main street, Toles make a right turn down Mulcahey Street. After keying a wooden door, they entered.
"Welcome to my home."
Steve grimaced at the conditions of the place.
"You can leave your clothes on the chair," John Toles said, more as a command than a request.
The forty-two year old, in the extended field of the Secret Service, picked up on the attitude. It made his cock twitch at the fact of a guy younger, good looking and very masculine, giving him an order. Quickly Steve shed the stolen wardrobe and walked in the room that John occupied.
"You may come in the bed," John dictated, as if in an allowing manner.
On his best behaviour, Steve replied, "Yes, sir."
"Hmm..." the twenty-eight year old replied, feeling up Steve's muscled body, "I think we might be able to make a deal after all."
Before anymore was said, John's fingers had been inserted in Steve's ass.
"Nice and tight. I like a tight ass," John Toles implied.
(Who doesn't!)
"Me too, um Sir."
At least they had some agreeable, mutual understandings.
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"James, we have to get you to the clinic," Dr. Lee reported, as he lay on Jim's hairy chest, his fingers playing in the sweaty hair follicles.
"Can't it wait for you to `experiment' on me, Ying?"
"I was that obvious, was I?"
"Do you think I'll have a problem with it, Ying?"
"Not with your pain tolerance. Dr. Nelson and I will be as gentle as possible, however...."
"Dr. Nelson? I thought... he's dead!"
"To the world, yes, but no. Dr. Nelson is very much alive and living, James."
"I see. So, his death was faked to fool Dr. Loveless into thinking all his well made plans went down the drain."
"Precisely, James."
"What about his son?"
"Brian is with him, though that is becoming hazardous to the young man's safety. We need to find a place for him to remain holed up at."
James West might seem dumb, but he's not stupid.
"When?"
"As soon as we can arrange it and their's one more thing."
"You want to fuck me again?"
"Oh no. I'm sure Rico will want to come back and finish what he started."
"Yeah and it'll be just like taking my cherry again, all over!" Jim sighed, rethinking the explanation Dr. Lee had given him about instant healing.
"What I was getting to before you so rudely interrupted me, James...."
"So, punish me!"
"Cut the wiseass attitude, boy or I'll have to... ahem! Another reason I need you to come back to the lab with me is for Braedon Murphy's sake."
"Oh? How does that affect me?"
"Dr. Nelson seems to think that it will benefit Mr. Murphy if we give him a partial transfusion."
"Oh I get it. Mix the bad blood with the good. But wouldn't that make him like me?"
"We don't know. As we said, most of what we're going on is purely experimental theories."
Dr. Lee rises up, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reaches for his pants.
"So, you want me to come with you now?"
Looking back at James, smiling, Dr. Lee replies, "No. I'll let Rico have his big blast, first!"
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It didn't take long for John Toles to test out whether or not he wanted to help Steve Connors out of his predicament. As he slowly slid his 9.5c out of Steve's ass and pressed it back in, feeling the resistance of his tight hole massaging the sides of his shaft, they talked.
"Oooooh, such a velvety feeling... so you can guarantee me complete immunity, Steve?"
"Yeah... oooh yeah... ohhh fuckin' yeah..." Steve gasped as the twenty-eight year old plowed in deep.
"And the identity?...oooh man are you tight!"
"Oooooh fuck yeah! Hell yeah, John. We can make you over, make you disappear from the face of the earth and make you `reborn'...ooooh..."
Steve Connors didn't have to promise much. For John Toles, the tight ass proved to be an asset in the bartering. A few other things, unconnected to the legalities phased him as acceptable. The age for one. John liked the idea of fucking a man in his forties. A man fourteen years older than himself proved to be an exciting aspect of the proposition. Yeah, a young guy like him having a relationship with an older man really rung his chimes. Another detail is the condition of Steve's body. The thick, dark brown hairy chest was awesome, as the dark, defined trail down his taut abs. Plus, a deep bellyhole that he could really sink his finger into. Yes, looking in between the two legs that sat on his shoulders, provided some hot view to John Toles.
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"And why should I listen to you, Loveless?"
"Dr. Loveless, Mr. Voltaire."
"It's Voltaire, Dr. Loveless."
"Why, Voltaire? Through my spies, I've learned that to develop this contraption of yours, it's costing you every penny."
"How did you..."
"That your assets number about eight hundred dollars."
"Ahem! And..."
"And, Voltaire, the third reason and most important, is that we both would like to see James West suffering."
Voltaire, standing six feet, two inches tall had to stop to rub his crotch when Dr. Loveless presented him with that information, already known.
"What did you have in mind, Dr. Loveless?"
"First explain to me this contraption of yours, Voltaire."
"It works on the principle of stored lightning bolts. You see, the energy is gathered from the sky, each time lighting strikes those rods. They travel down the column of my invention and become stored in these cells. Now this," Voltaire removes a hand held gadget, two metal prongs extended, "this is the real part of the experiment." Then calling to one of the guards, "Peter, would you bring in one of my subjects, please?"
"Right away, sir."
The blonde guard makes his exit.
Dr. Loveless states, "Nice looking."
"Yes and he does have a nice, tight ass that's such a pleasure to fuck!" Voltaire replies, smiling at Dr. Loveless.
In a minute, Peter returns. Two guards have in their possession a young man, appearing to be in his twenties. He is protesting, muffling through an object placed in his mouth, meant to gag him.
"How would you like him, sir?"
"On the cross, faced forward, Peter."
Taking the bare-chested man to an `x'-shaped frame, they fasten his arms above his head.
"Oh and Peter, strip his pants, please?"
"As you wish, sir."
"Mmmmm," Voltaire remarks to Dr. Loveless, "I love the hairy ones. Just look at that exquisite chest of hair. Wait till you see the pubes!"
Unlike himself, Voltaire has found Dr. Loveless highly unattached to the feelings of a gay man.
"You're straight, aren't you Loveless?"
"Dr. Loveless! And yes, I could care less about all this fucking of men."
"But it did turn you on when I mentioned about Peter's hot ass?"
"I look at man as a work of art. Beauty. It doesn't mean I have to do those disgusting acts of sticking my penis in another man's ass!"
Voltaire thought the midget doctor a little hyper over the fact. Standing there, he didn't see loveless as grotesque. No, in fact Voltaire envisioned Dr. Loveless as quite a good looking man, despite his handicap. Maybe after his revenge with James West was taken care of, he'd have some fun with Loveless.
"That's a damn shame, Loveless..."
"Dr. Loveless!"
"Yes. Well, it's a shame Dr. Loveless that you don't see it my way. You don't know what a hot feeling a man can get, with his shaft impaled in another man's ass."
"If you're trying to repulse me, Voltaire, you're doing a good job of it!"
Voltaire laughed, then settled back down to his invention.
"As I was saying, the lightning charges the cells and through utter genius."
"Aren't we the humble one?"
"Yes, well, ahem... as I was saying before you rudely' interrupted me, Dr.' Loveless, this part I hold in my hand holds the charge in these little cells. Observe.
Finishing the binding, Peter says to the twenty-five year old, hairy Italian, "Don't worry Rosario. We'll be together soon. I wish I could help you."
Rosario looks beyond the bondage, beyond the gag in his mouth and assures, by eye contact, that he knows whatever will ensue is not directed from Peter, who walks away, carrying Rosario's pants.
"Observe," Voltaire says.
Walking up to Rosario, he turns a little dial on the gadget in his hand. At first it makes a buzzing noise, as a laser-like white light, reminiscent of a small bolt of lightning, passes between the two metal receptors. It drives Rosario crazy, knowing that Voltaire intends on applying it to his body.
"My only regret is that it is not West hanging there by his arms," Voltaire replies, as he moves the two metal prods to Rosario's balls.
From behind the gag, Rosario screams his lungs out, every part of his body spasming. After three shocks of his stored lightning device, Voltaire stops. Rosario's head falls to his sweaty chest.
"Most impressive, Voltaire."
"Yes, before they laughed at my experiments, I had intentions of using this for good. Would make for a nice way for cattlemen to bring their herds into the marketing pens, without having to expend energy utilizing whips."
"Yes, but a bullwhip is such a nice implement as well," Loveless replies.
"Would you care for further demonstration?"
In the wings, Peter sighs with relief, as Loveless denies the continued torturing of Rosario.
"Very well. You may take him back to his cell."
Unknowing to Voltaire, Each time Peter has taken Rosario away, after being used as a subject for his experiments, he's been taken to Peter's quarters. Even though he's a top, Peter has paid dearly, bribing the other guards with their occasional fuckfests.
"So what are your plans for drawing Mr. West out in the open, Dr. Loveless?"
"By informing them that I hold Dr. Nelson my prisoner."
"And do you?"
"Dr. Nelson died in the flaming explosions, at the makeshift town I was holed up at."
"And do you think they will respond?"
"Indeed. Dr. Nelson is a highly valued scientist."
"Was," Voltaire corrects him.
"Yes, was a valued member of the science community."
"Of which I am well informed of the brilliant doctor's achievements. I believe he was working on the chemistry of the human body, to alter it's state of being. Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant."
"We never rightly proved it," Loveless fibbed, "with the demise of the doctor and the elusive Mr. West."
"I do feel bad that you didn't get in any hot torture."
"Oh, we did and Mr. West responded quite nicely to the effects of the pain."
"But Dr. Nelson's work proved ineffective?"
"Yes," Loveless lied again.
In reality, Dr. Loveless had a trunk of vials, each a stage in development of the formula. Thinking of it's value to science, but more importantly man, he would think of using the proven formula on himself. After all, he did witness the healing properties of the effects on James West.
"So when do you think your plan will come together, Dr. Loveless?"
As Voltaire stood there, well over six feet tall, 215 pounds, he looked down on the handsome doctor, thinking of how he'd get such great enjoyment working his ass with his 12c tool. He even got a kick out of thinking how it would be to apply his stored lightning prod to Loveless' balls as an experiment to see if the shock traveled through his body.
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"Oh man you're so fuckin' tight... fuckin' tight...fuck!" Rico shouted, as his cock blasted his load deep inside of Jim.
Jim gasped, not at his ass getting deep-fucked, but Rico's opposite action of pulling on Jim's body to get his already buried-deep cock inside of Jim more. The youthful Latino praised the completed fuck, in Spanish, crying out with how many ropes of cum must've shot out of his shaft.
"How many?" One of the spectators asked.
"Diez y cinco...no, diez y seis..."
"You know we can't speak your language, Rico."
However, Sean replies, "Sixteen."
"Sixteen ropes of cum?" Cal says, astonished.
On a different key, Johnny replies to Sean, "Where'd you learn how to knowed that Spanish language?"
"I learned it at the university. We're taught that, French and Latin."
"Three languages and engleesh?"
"Sure and someday you'll learn too, Johnny."
"Me? Go to a real university?"
Cal replies, "I'm going there, too."
"I wonder if we can go too, Stormy?" Jake inquires.
Sean replies, "Sure. You all can go. All you have to want to do is your best at learning."
"But we ain't got no money," Johnny informs Sean.
"That's not an object."
"Not what?" Johnny asks.
"Look, if you want to go, I'll get you there."
On a more intimate plane, Johnny embraces Sean and kisses him.
"I'd be so obliged to ya, Sean."
"Hmm... and don't think I wouldn't come and claim it!"
"It's that buzzer doojicky again!" Cal calls out.
This time, they know the system forwards and backwards.
"Wait, we got to look who is there, Cal."
However, as the image forms, of the front door, they see Cal ushering in two young men.
"Hey, it's Ansel and Brian, guys." Rico states out loud. "Shit! Can't let them see me like this!"
"Hey! What about me?" Jim calls out, pulling at his tied arms.
"Yeah, okay," Rico replies.
In no time, Rico has Jim untied and they both head for the jon.
JJ tails along, bugging Rico, "Do you think I can take your load down my throat sometime, Rico?"
"Give me an hour so, amigo," Rico tells JJ.
However, as he watches Jim walking, the cum down his leg, leaking from his ass chute, JJ licks his lips.
"Hey Jim, want to wait up a second?"
"What's on your mind, JJ?"
"Was wondering," JJ stood there, scratching his head, not sure if he should ask, probably more embarrassed.
"Hey look, I have to get cleaned up."
JJ pulled on Jim's arm, as he proceeded to enter the tub, bellowing out, "Hold it a minute. Jim, do you think I can... Can lick you ass?"
"My ass?" Then it dawned on Jim. Folding his arms under his pecs, Jim accuses, "So Marc Taylor was right. You really are a cumslut?"
"Marc Taylor?" Smiling, JJ replies, "Yeah, I suppose. What can I say, Jim, I love the taste of the stuff."
"I have to really get moving here, but okay. How about licking the leg off?"
Spreading his legs wide, JJ squatted down behind Jim, on his knees. Leaning in, he licked the inner sides of Jim's legs, where the cum had leaked out, dripping down.
"Taste good?"
"Mmmmm..." Is all the twenty-two year old could utter, as he kept his tongue busy.
"Who am I kidding?" Jim said to himself, feeling JJ part his asscheeks and pushing into the agent's hairy ass, tongue burying deeper.
In a way, it began to turn Jim on, hearing the slurping sound and feeling the tongue licking inside his sphincter. At times he thought he felt JJ's mouth over his asshole, literally sucking the man-juice out.
"Couldn't wait for my load, could you?" Rico voiced his opinion with JJ, also giving his ass a little kick.
With a towel over his shoulder, Rico stood there, watching JJ service Jim's ass. At the same time, the eighteen year old began firming up his cock.
"Hurry nino. I need you soon!"
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"I... I don't think... don't think I can take much more of this, Peter."
Lying on Peter's bed, Rosario Daninos cried, as Peter applied ice to the twenty-five year olds shocked balls. His heart went out to Rosario, however he didn't have a plan of escape, as he wanted to carry out. Leaning into Rosario, Peter lay next to him, trying to soothe him with kind words and a massaging hand.
"You know I don't take pleasure in watching what Voltaire is doing to you, Rosario?"
"I know, but I... like I said I can't take the torture... the pain. Peter, promise me something?"
"Sure. Anything, Rosario."
"If... if you can't help me... would you find a gun and..."
"No way," Peter picked up on the direction of Rosario's intentions, immediately. "You hang in there. I'll find a way for us to get out of here."
"You too?"
"Hey, you're not going anywhere without me!" Peter replied.
At least he gave Rosario something to live for. Showing the Italian his sincerity, Peter leaned in and gave him a kiss. Rosario's first kiss.
"Nobody's done that to me before."
"Sorry."
"Why, Peter?"
"It's the first time I've kissed a man."
"Peter, I have something to tell you."
"I have something to tell you too, Rosario."
Neither one divulged their secret to the other. Not in words, that is. Looking into each other's eyes, it was all there.
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"Excuse me Captain Domingo, sir."
After knocking and being given the go ahead to enter, Ferdinand Camisa entered the captain's cabin. He wasn't alone. Positioned next to him, was a youth, not more than seventeen or eighteen years of age, almost half his own age.
"Yes, what is it Ferdinand?"
"Sir," the twenty-seven year old swashbuckler, eyeing up the naked boy in the bed, reported, "It's John Hinkler, sir."
"What about him?"
"He was on the outskirts of town and spotted Bart Tartarello in a buckboard, looking to leave town."
"I see and?"
"He knows you put a bounty of Tartarello's head."
"Hinkler has captured him?"
"Yes, sir."
"Excellent! Well, not for Mr. Toles. Looks like he's out of the bounty I've placed on Tartarello. Where is he now?
"He has him tied up, on the dock, sir."
"Hmm..."
Unknown to Ferdinand, Hinkler had owed Captain Domingo a sum of money. Perhaps by capturing and bringing back Tartarello, he'd figure on calling it even. However, the captain figured on maybe getting some interest out of the deal, too.
"Bring Mr. Hinkler on board, along with Tartarello. Give him some food and drink, Ferdinand."
"Yes, sir."
"Hmm... and Ferdinand?"
The twenty-seven year old mate readied to leave, held the cabin door, as he turned his attention to the captain.
"Yes, sir?"
"How long have you been on board?"
"Hell, sir, you don't remember?"
"Eh?"
"I was your cabin boy. Well, not for long. Right after you acquired me, sir, that other young man came on board."
"Yes, now I remember. He did fetch me a nice price in Tortuga. Also had a nice tight ass."
"Too bad you didn't get a chance to try mine, sir."
"Yes, but if I recollect, Ferdinand, I've heard some scuttlebutt from the crew that you would rather stretch an ass than have your own widened?"
Ferdinand grinned, knowing the captain had the facts straight.
"Um... yes, sir."
"I also know for a fact that you like to have `other' fun with a man?"
"Um... yes, sir," Ferdinand replied, a bit embarrassed that the captain knows all about not only his sex life, but his passion for the art of bondage, discipline and playing with a man's body.
"How would you like your own personal slave?"
"Me sir? But I'm just a....."
"I'm promoting you to Mr. Toles position."
"John? But what about?"
"Mr. Toles has served out his use to me."
"But what about when he returns from searching for Bart Tartarello?"
"Precisely. A good point, Ferdinand. He failed in finding Tartarello. I don't tolerate failure."
Ferdinand knew that fact all too well. A number of times, over the past ten years or so, he's seen a man stripped of his shirt, tied to the mast, whipped for his crime, sentenced by Captain Domingo.
"I understand that sir," Ferdinand replied, getting the message.
"Now, Hinkler owes me a sum of money. Most likely he's figuring I'll divvy up the slate and mark it even. Cancel his debt. You've seen John Hinkler, Ferdinand. What do you think of him?"
What did Ferdinand think of John Hinkler? He began to recollect his thoughts, looking over the guy to be about his own age, standing on the dock with Bart Tartarello. Muscled, dark hair, broad shoulders. He tried eyeing up the package, but the movement of others on the dock, kept obscuring the view. However, he got enough of a look.
"Nice," was all that Ferdinand replied, to sum him up.
Captain Domingo knew what the grin portrayed, along with the single-worded comment.
"He's yours, if you want him."
"Hinkler mine?"
"Plus taking on Mr. Toles' duties."
Ferdinand couldn't believe the position being bestowed upon him. From now on he wouldn't have to stand among the crew and watch a man being whipped. He would be the one designated to do the chore. His crotch tingled at the thought of holding the long strap in his hand and striking out the punishment across it's victim's back.
"Thank you Captain Domingo. I wouldn't fail you."
Captain Domingo got some rapid fire pulses of his own, down in his crotch, thinking of Ferdinand, bare-chested, standing behind a man, deserving of punishment, wielding the wide, thick, heavy strap and doing justice to a man. Toles had that masculine image, but Ferdinand Camisa had the build. He stood there, picturing Camisa pouring on the power, casting the leather strap, putting his weight behind the lashing torture implement.
"Yes, well, here."
The captain holds a ceramic vial in his hand.
"What's this sir?"
"Take Hinkler to the galley. Have cook feed his a nice meal and sometime during your conversation with Hinkler, slip this into his drink."
"Pardon me sir, but shifty, if I might say?"
"I can see that we both think alike, Ferdinand."
The two laughed their asses off.
"Well, I need to be getting back to... ahem, business, if you know what I mean, Ferdinand."
Both looked over to the bed, the young cabin boy lying there, completely naked, arms tied and stretched to the corners of the bed, gagged. His ankles remained loose, ready for Captain Domingo to pick up where he left off, massaging his cock.
"Enjoying your new acquisition I see, sir?"
"Yes. Very much so and if you'll excuse me, I think he's missing me."
"Yes, sir."
"And Ferdinand?"
"Yes, sir?"
"When Mr. Toles returns to the ship, have him but in irons."
"Yes, sir and what of Bart Tartarello?"
"Toles be your first prisoner to discipline with the strap."
"Yes sir!"
"However, Tartarello you will leave for me to deal with."
Captain Domingo knew Ferdinand would like that. He could see the orgasm already beginning to arise!
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"And what's this?"
"Didn't Dr. Lee tell you?" Brian Nelson asked Jim, standing there with his suitcase in his hand.
Still in the process of getting himself together, James West stands there, bare from the waist up, talking with the two boys whom have been brought in by Cal McClintock.
"He said something about finding you a place to stay, but..."
"Right and he said that you would be more than willing to take in two boys that don't have anywhere else to go."
Not wanting to contradict the kind picture Dr. Lee has painted, Jim stands there, one hand on his hip, the other scratching his stubble. Looking around, he pictures the others; Rico, JJ, Stormy, Jake, Cal, Sean and Johnny. Really, having the other here hasn't been an imposition. On the contrary, James West has never seen so much `life' come to his dreary existence.
"What about you?" Jim asks the nineteen year old artist.
"Him?" Brian questions, then answers, "Ansel and I have... well, we're good friends now."
"I need to leave now, but when I get back, we'll resolve all of this." Under his breath, Jim said to himself, "This place is getting to look like a fucking boy's boarding school!"
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"C'mon, Rosario, wake up."
Voltaire had made it no option that all guards of his castle-like fortress parade around bare-chested. However, at this moment, twenty-six year old Peter Manning wore not only the black leather pants, but a white shirt, long sleeved, and a heavy cloak.
"What?" Rosario's groggy reply came.
Both had fallen asleep, following both men's first encounter of oral sex and a quick mutual jerkoff.
"C'mon, get these on. We're getting out of here."
Leaning forward, Peter helped Rosario into the sleeves of the shirt. He helped button it up his chest. Getting out of bed, he helped him on with an extra pair of his own leather pants.
"Good thing we're the same size."
"Not everywhere," Rosario replied.
Peter knew all too well what Rosario meant by that. It's all Peter could do from not choking on his hard, 9.5c a few hours back!
"Let's forget about that for now," Peter told him.
However, now that the fact was stuck in his mind, Peter couldn't forget. He could not put aside the picture of Rosario's hairy chest, the dark brown hair covering his brown nips. The ones that Peter had to wet down, suckle on, a victim of oral lust. He couldn't put out of his mind the hair extending east to west across Rosario's stomach, the darked stripe cascading downwards, to the deep bellyhole. He tried to forget, as he helped Rosario out of bed, his tongue darting in and out of the hairy navel, then licking down to the already hard shaft that poked him in the throat. His mind wasn't ready to erase the hard cock almost choking him, as he tried to press his narrow thorax against the thick rod. By the time he had finished getting Rosario dressed, he had a raging hard on. However, he also summed up that he better lose it quick. Since this wasn't the place, nor the time. They had to get the hell out of there.
"So, you have a plan, Peter?"
"Yeah. I'm not sure if it's full proof, but I can't bear to watch you suffer anymore, Rosario."
That earned Peter a quickie on the lips.
"Stick close," Peter told him.
For Rosario that was not a problem. In fact, he wanted to be close to Peter forever. All his life he's never felt as much as a mere ounce of caring, like Peter was showing for him. Nobody offered to put themselves in harm's way, nor showed any kind of affection the way Peter did. Not to mention he thoroughly enjoyed the oral sex. For almost a week now, he's endured torture. Lying there in bed with Peter made up for all those days of pain and affliction. To lie there in bed and have Peter hover over him, telling him to relax, as Peter traced his tongue over his pecs, his stomach, his pubes, well, it gave him an idea that he might like to do Peter what he's heard other men have done; press their hard shaft in the other man's ass. But right then, Rosario wasn't sure about doing it. However, just lying there, having Peter lick and suck him felt mighty nice.
"Are you sure about this, Peter. I don't want to get you into any trouble."
It then dawned on Peter that he indeed with be up shit's creek without a paddle, if he was caught helping Rosario escape. Quickly searching his thoughts, instead of feeling fear, he sensed a warmth. Something no man has ever pierced his cold heart. All his life it's been thinking about `number 1'. Now he had man number two to think about and he was enjoying the thoughts of being with Rosario, beyond the walls of Voltaire's fortress.
"Careful. Be very quiet," Peter informed Rosario.
Not realizing it, he held the twenty-five year olds hand, as he ventured down the labyrinth of hallways. After a myriad of stairs, that took them downwards, they came to an iron door.
"This is it and we're free," Peter informed his charge.
Thrusting open the door, the wind blew in.
"Going somewhere?"
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Continued.....
Copyright 2006 T. Luke McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.