"Stagecoach to Laramie"
Justin – jbalancier9@yahoo.com
Part 4
"My Pa made me a decent offer. I can still help here lending a hand," babbled Slater, chawing off a hunk of homemade bread. "I'm going into Laramie after supper. Peers like I won't be spending that much time here, once I start at the mercantile," said Slater.
"Sounds about right to me, don't you think?" Herman asked Jake.
"Sure, it will be good to see the mercantile up and running again." Jake, did not really mean that, but it was the proper thing to say.
After supper, Slater went alone into Laramie. Jake was not troubled, one-way or the other. He liked being naked with Slater, but sex is all it was, just sex. You see - Slater was in love with Slater, with no room for anybody else. However, what a dreamy cock he had surrounded by a yummy bush of crotch fur, available for the taking, and that, if anything, Jake would miss.
It became common for Slater to "come and go" between the town and the farm. He would do that often mainly to have sex with Jake. They would get together simply to chuck a load. Except for using their bodies, they didn't give a hoot about one another.
In private, they were man-whore pigs trolling for cock, doing what shouldn't be done. - In public, they were exceptional (almost perfect) cowboys, polite, generous, church going wranglers.
Jake, thought the balance between tenderness and wildness, was genuine when it came to Sonny. Why not, he was "Summer Cloud" a Comanche with a wild body and a long dick. He was keen on kissing too. Slater did not consider Sonny essential enough to pursue, although he was nineteen and hot. Slater thought that Sonny was a one-time act, and his sexual curiosity with men, was out of his system. Of course, sex does not work that way, and is just the opposite. The desire for manly sex doesn't stop, and Slater should have known that. So much for wisdom.
"Is the gate to the corral repaired? The bottom split boards replaced?" Herman asked, sipping a morning cup of coffee.
"Yup, it's done."
"Is it back in place?"
"Not yet. I'm doing that after breakfast. It will be tough to handle alone, but I'll getter done. Would be easier with Slater helping, but his pa needs him."
"I'll do it," replied Herman, willing, but not enthused, about lifting with his poor back.
Hey, you two – remember me? "I am going to do it. In fact I am going to pitch in with lots of chores around here," interjected Sonny. "You're not alone, I will help," he continued, scraping fried egg off a plate."
"Who's going to do the cooking?"
"Me – you Ninny," he said to Jake. "I'll do both."
"How about the berry pies?" Jake inquired, thinking the meals would be sacrificed during the day, if Sonny were out of the kitchen.
"I move like the wind, I can do both. Dang, do I need to talk like an Indian to get through to you?"
"He's got you there," mumbled Herman peeking over his coffee cup. "You better listen to him! Sonny is quite a man, surprised you haven't noticed."
Jake thought, but not replying, "Lord, I more than noticed. Quite a man is an understatement, he is two people (both remarkable) in one body." It was true; Sonny was young and a strong breed of a man. His heritage connected to the wilderness far back as his Indian upbringing. Jake remembered him saying, he was born with many talents.
"It's settled," commented Herman, friends, watching each other's scalp." "Watch your hair Pa, Sonny is Comanche," giggled Jake. He ducked just in time when Sonny, with an enormous grin, threw a chuck of bread at him.
Jake stood up from the breakfast table looking cheeky. "You know pa, I was thinking the same thing. If Sonny will do outside chores, I will do inside chores. I can't bake a berry pie, but, I can wash and sweep."
"Okay, sounds good," interjected Sonny. You can be the outside boss and I will be the inside boss," he suggested.
"Just work together and do what needs to be done, without any inside-outside stuff. I'm heading to Laramie," said Herman, putting on a clean pressed shirt.
"You're going back to Laramie?" shouted Jake. "You just got home last night, took a bath, all fancied up, and now you're going back this morning? What's going on pa?"
"Sound to me like pa is courting," interjected Sonny pouring himself a second cup of coffee.
"I'll explain later, and will be home for supper. I will be taking the buggy, take care of my horse?"
"Sure pa, we feed and water the animals every morning."
The men watched as Herman drove the buggy out of sight, leaving a trail of Wyoming dust behind.
Sonny and Jake lived under the same roof; however, it took naked and touching to discover who they really were. Even better, they genuinely liked one another. They were drawn together, and it felt wonderful - truly wonderful.
Jake picked up what few dishes remained on the table and took them to the sink in the kitchen. There was warm water in an iron kettle on the stove for washing. He poured water in a pan and began washing cups with a cloth hanging on a bar beside the sink.
"You are doing my job," said Sonny standing behind Jake breathing down his neck.
"Your job? You heard what pa said – work together, so we are working together, dipstick. You can dry the dang plates."
Sonny squeezed Jake on his crotch, causing him to jump. "You can get poked doing that, little brother." He joked, gently feeling Sonny's tender young ass.
"Injun very smart - know much, about horny big brother," Sonny chuckled, talking like an Indian in council. He never talked that way, only when fooling with Jake. They chuckled like children and slopped around the kitchen, socking one another on the am. Jake slapped Sonny on the ass with a towel. "Don't start something you will have to claim, once you do it. I am talking about my ass," said Sonny staring at the bump rising in Jakes crotch.
"I'm not starting anything, just yet, that is. We have to put the corral gate back in place," mumbled Jake, and I need your help. "I washed the dishes and you lift a gate. It sounds fair to me,"
The gate now repaired, was ready to attach. What Jake needed was Sonny's strength for lifting. Sonny tore off his shirt exposing his intense Comanche chest, (no doubt showing off) and lifted one end of the gate. "It's not that heavy, little girl," he said laughing at Jake. Toughen up buttercup.
It seemed almost childish, just the same, Jake followed suite and did the same thing. He took off his shirt and flung it over a fence post. It was not a body competition; it was warm out; perhaps they felt more comfortable being shirtless. Jake was far from a little girl. He was a hunk and skillfully put together. He did chuckle however, being called, "buttercup."
The gate went easily back in place, and looked fine. "That should make pa happy," said Sonny, gathering up the tools to bring back to the barn.
"They go into the tool chest in the tack house," yelled Jake following him with a coiled roll of wire. The tack house was small, used mostly for tools and a couple of saddles. Once inside Jake kicked the door shut and put his two hands on Sonny's bare chest. He felt warm giving off a sense of liveliness.
Without hesitating, Sonny clutched Jake's hair and their lips met. Both hats falling to the floor, and nobody cared. They touched faces in the strangest way. It was exploring, inquisitive, loving, yet needy.
"You are real," mumbled Sonny, "It' a good feeling."
"Yup, bank on it, I like your style kid."
There was no escaping something, they both wanted. Sonny, raised like a bear cub, with an Indian father and a Christian mother, needed a man in his life, something a homo Comanche found difficult to hide. Jake, raised as a cowboy wrangler, yearned for sex. At twenty-six, he was getting off daily, something he found difficult to hide.
Jake had Sonny's pants down around his ankles. He had a hunger for dark wild cock and nuts packed with youthful cum. There wasn't anybody in Laramie, quite like him.
Jake kneeling on the rough dirty boards of the tack house, licked between Sonny's legs sucking cock, to the back of his throat.
"Let's go to the house," mumbled Jake, wanting Sonny more than he ever expected.
"Yes-yes, will you make love to me?" begged Sonny.
"Count on it, there is no stopping me," pulling Sonny's pants back up. They stood there for a few moments looking intently at each other saying nothing.
"You are really something. Do you know that? There aren't many like you."
"All I can be is me," Sonny replied.
"Absolutely, and some things are better left unsaid."
They were still bare chested leaning into one another. "Lift your arm," commanded Jake.
"Why."
"Just lift it."
Sonny lifted as if to surrender becoming shocked, when Jake licked his sweaty armpit. There was no end to how dirty and exciting Jake could be. He simply was stuck on repeat.
"We better get out of here and back to the house" was the thought rambling through both their heads. Leaving the tack house, Jake held Sonny's hand until they got outside, then dropped it, becoming (he believed) where others could see, regular wranglers.
It was obvious to Sonny that Jake wanted to be close to him. He wouldn't talk about closeness or his feelings for fear that Jake would stop giving him attention, and look elsewhere for sex.
"I'll race you to the house," said Jake.
"No, you will lose."
"I don't lose," grinned Jake. "Is `Running Cloud, scared?"
"It's Summer Cloud, you jerk."
"I knew that."
"White brother - dumb as sage brush," giggled Sonny, now playing with Jake. It was silly, but they were having fun.
"Red brother - hot as fuck," Jake chattered wanting to grab Sonny's crotch but not outside in the open. They only touched behind closed doors. Any touching was private to them.
"Seriously, yuh wanna race?" asked Jake.
"Sure, you're on. However, my father, `Running Hawk,' ran like the wind, with a Calvary soldier chasing him."
"Is that supposed to scare me," replied Jake wanting to see Sonny's cheeky ass twitch as he ran.
"On three," shouted Jake, willing to let Sonny get ahead of him. He was not dumb as prairie brush, just clever as hell, and freaky over a cowboy's butt.
Into the house, they dashed fleeing to the bedroom like "Road runner in pursuit." Finally, alone, they understood how Homo passion had to work.
Jake's hand travelled down Sonny's back finding a "work to ride" butt. There wasn't much fur along his crack, just golden flesh with no need for a welcoming sign. He kissed him severely pressing mouth to mouth. He needed no thinking, his mouth moved by shear will power. This moment was for thrusting, as Jake zeroed in on Sonny's body.
Open to the air, Jake's penis bounced freely from its confined prison of tight cowboy jeans. Sonny placed this naughty varmint in his hand. It was long, hard with a faint bit of moisture on the tip however; the moisture was only a sample of Jake's crotch. Jake`s mind was working like a prairie toad looking for a tight place, for his cock, to hide. Jake licked wildly on Sonny's hole, and rubbed the spit around with his finger.
Jake had balls meant for pussy. This load however, was going into Sonny's bottom warming the darkness of his Comanche bowels.
There was no time left for fooling around, and Jake needed to fuck in the worse way. His cock slid into Sonny's body clearly performing a direct and happy "Vida Loca." (Crazy life)
Sonny not about to squeal, should it hurt, was something he welcomed without hesitation. Jake moved from side to side, using a rhythm that felt remarkable. Sonny would never ask him to pull out wanting to keep what pleasure Jake was giving him. It connected them in a way that Sonny had never known before. The result of Jake's pumping meant only one thing. The tightness of a nineteen-year-old Comanche's butt, was priming Jake for the release of cock juice.
Jake managed to hit the spot that made everything work inside Sonny's body. What a fiery fuck. Sonny couldn't explain it, except to say one word, "JAKE." The half-breed kid was a natural.
When fucking, time alone is a weak consideration. Jake's pecker knew when to blast off. At last, he unloaded, all he had, inside Sonny's butt putting cock cream exactly where he wanted it to go.
Warm cum dribbled over Sonny's butt cheeks when Jake pulled out. Jake wiped it with his finger and pushed it back into Sonny' hole. There was definitely a connection here. Sonny was not as tired as one might think. He expected to get off also, but said nothing about it to Jake. It was typical Sonny. He thought homo sex worked this way among cowboys. He took cock, but asked for nothing, in return.
Sweat formed as they held each other close, kissing like characters from a Disney cartoon. However, it was not Disney. Jake longed desperately, to taste that tender Comanche cock. He slurped prairie sauce, effortlessly from Sonny's plump life-size balls.
Sonny with his pecker in Jake' mouth leaned forward as if giving milk from bottle, to a baby. Sonny liked feeding Jake this way, dumping a sticky load for him to choke on.
Jake got it down, with a little gagging. Sonny, then, dropped saliva on to his lips. He always wanted to do that, and tried it for the first time. It felt like spitting on a whore, but not really. He worshipped Jake.
Surprisingly enough, Jake didn't mind, as Sonny's spit dripped into his mouth. He swallowed that too. Yeow, this cowboy and Indian was seventy years ahead of their time. It's a godsend, nobody in Laramie knew about it. They would be branded, and not a good thing, in 1890.
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