This story is fiction. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. It's copyrighted 2020 by The Jordan Project, all rights reserved outside of Nifty. The reader comes first, so I live for feedback. Please take some time to provide it to TBTop@protonmail.com. What worked, what didn't work.
Keep this great site going and donate to http://donate.nifty.org/
TEXAS 1956 Vol. 1 – Chapter 21
The day after his ordeal, the guards dropped off a pair of boots each at the turret room, and Williamson picked up his chaps and boots that Clayton had reconditioned. Hank informed him that he'd be spending all of Saturday shining them.
On that afternoon, Hank, Dirk, Chance, and Bulldog took off in Clayton's car for a joyride around the county's gravel roads. Hank informed them that, as they'd figured, their "little squirrel" was a queer faggot. Everything was on film, and the local cowboy whose dick he'd sucked had provided a full account to his cousin.
"Now fellas, don't let on just yet," Hank said. "Be nice to him for a while. Best is yet to come."
At the end of the day, they returned with Clayton's car thoroughly dusty inside and out. After dinner, Hank took the cadet out to the parking lot to show him.
"Get on down to Kurt's place right after lunch," he said. "Ya got plenty a-work ahead a-ya. And don't forget to fill up the tank and check the oil."
Clayton felt the trickle on the back of his neck turn into a warm stream. One of the Men from the base. Then a spray hit his face from the front, and another from the side. Three Men pissing at him as he sat on the bleachers in back of the gas station.
"Open yer mouth, ya god damn faggot," the Man in front of him said. He was from the base too, clad in utility fatigues. He aimed at Clayton's lips. "Drink my piss, queer faggot."
After he'd finished cleaning the car, Kurt and one of the Men from the base had shoved him around out back, slapping him in the head and face all the way. Another Man from the base followed, insulting and threatening. One of the military Men slugged him in the gut and doubled him over, then sat him on the bleachers.
Clayton opened his lips. The Man stepped up and put his soft yet large dick in his mouth.
"Swallow it, ya god damn queer faggot," he said.
When he was done, the Man stayed in his mouth and got hard. He began pushing in and out, and while it was happening the Man who had pissed on his neck sat beside him and spoke, his voice low and brutal.
"Ain't no faggot alive that don't like the taste of a Man's stiff dick," he said.
"Ya got that one right, Tom," Kurt said, as he removed Clayton's cap and filled it with piss. When the other soldier was finished, he put the cap on the cadet's head, splashing his urine on top of his head and onto his coveralls.
"Thank you, sir," Clayton said to the Man who had just squirted into his mouth. "Is there anything more I can do, sir?"
All three of them laughed, and Kurt went off to fetch more beer.
Later on, after they had reloaded, they shoved Clayton into the garage for more. The one who had used his mouth did it again, while Kurt fucked his ass and Tom watched, taunting the cadet and encouraging the two Men. He reached over and pressed on Kurt's ass while he fucked.
"Get him good 'n deep," he said. "Faggot needs it all the way in."
"I can do it on my own," said Kurt, shooting Staff Sergeant Tom Jensen an irritated look and making a mental note to have a talk with the deputies.
"Sir, you were right," Jimmy Smithson said, as he and Colt lay back on the bed. "You're real good at it, and it went easy."
All week, the cadet had gone back and forth in his mind about whether to let the handsome cowboy screw him. Practicing with the enema had helped sway him, but he hadn't decided until Colt had opened the door to the room. Now the cadet was relaxed and affectionate, his worries gone.
"Them roommates treatin' ya alright?" the cowboy asked, curious whether the report he'd made to the sheriff's deputy had made its way back to the academy.
Colt's relationship with the deputies was unusual, even for the oddness that came with the queer patrol. They'd caught him jacking off a Man's dick in the county park one night, and informally sentenced him to two years of working one weekend day a month at Jake's place in return. The cowboy hadn't complained – "Ya got me fair n square," he'd said – but adamantly refused to take Jake or Brick's dick.
"Ya can tell my wife. Ya can tell the prosecutor. I don't give a damn, but I ain't doing that," he said. "Ya prolly don't believe me, but I only jacked him off 'cause he had just sucked me off. When he told me he wanted me to suck his dick, I told him he'd better not say it again or I'd kill him."
It turned out that Colton Bates wasn't a dick sucker at all. He was just a horny cowboy with a shrew of a wife. The night he was caught, he'd agreed to trade squirts with a Man in the park. The real reason he'd been going to the park was to find queers who'd service him.
Jake had been skeptical, but was won over by the vehemence of the cowboy's willingness to risk everything rather than take even a deputy's dick. After that, Jake had seen Colt as a useful unofficial partner who'd seduce queers the deputies wanted to target for one reason or another, and had agreed to serve as bait for the occasional tryst at Three-Finger Buck's bugged room.
"I get to say no if I don't like the feller. I ain't takin' it, and ya never haul me into court or have people thinkin' I'm a queer 'cause I like a feller suckin' on my dick or screwin' his ass," he said. "I don't mind havin' a squirt that way from time to time. Don't waste time prowlin' around."
"They've been a lot nicer to me, sir," Jimmy said. "They stopped calling me 'little squirrel' and the cowboy thanked me for doing the laundry. Even the other one, who's called Bulldog, is being nice. Maybe I should tell them I'll suck their dicks."
"Whoa there, little fella!" Colt said. "It's always got to be the Man's idea. Remember that. Not your call, ever."
The cadet reminisced about his step-dad and how attracted he had been to him.
"This might sound strange to you, but I was disappointed to grow up," he said. "I wish I had an even smaller dick, like I used to. All I ever wanted was to do whatever my step-dad wanted. I wish he had let me do more than look at his. You remind me a lot of him, except you let me do things, sir."
"He did the right thing there," the cowboy said. "He let it play out, and when he figured out you was queer he didn't disown ya. I've had high school kids want to suck my dick, but I've never let 'em, and not just 'cause I might've got shot if someone found out."
The cowboy sent the cadet to the bathroom to clean up, and while he was in the shower he washed his own dick off.
"Time's a-wastin'," he said after Jimmy re-entered the room. "Why don't ya get back into that slick 'ol suit a-yers and sit on down next to my chaps. Ya don't think I'm a-lettin' ya outta here without another squirt, did ya?"
"So did that cadet you were telling me about go see that cowboy?" Clayton asked when he had lunch with Smithson on Friday. He knew the answer, but didn't let on.
"I don't know," Jim lied. "I didn't think I ought to ask him. All I did was pass along what you told me."
"How are the lieutenants treating you?" Clayton asked. "Still giving you a hard time?"
"Things are going much better," he answered. "I wasn't happy with the advice you gave me, but I have to admit that it was what I needed to hear. So thanks, I appreciate it."
"They're not bad guys," Clayton said. "The guards can be rough around the edges, but if you respect their higher rank it works out. If you do talk to the one queer cadet, just tell him to be careful and stay in line."