Disclaimer: This is an Adam's Gay Reader pulp story (#236) written by Kurt McCord. There is no copyright on it, so I wanted to share it with others before it gets lost forever. I have only corrected spelling and punctuation errors.
This story is set in the past and includes sex between adult males of different races and between related men. If this is unappealing or illegal in your location, please do not read this story.
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Chapter 6: Blue Steel
Solomon and I lay there, our naked bodies warm under the blankets. We could hear the storm rage outside, the blasts of air seemed to rock the line shack. Every once in a while, a blast would roar down the stove pipe causing the wood stove to flare and roar. We felt warm and safe with our bodies pressed close enjoying our nakedness and warmth.
I enjoyed playing with his body, running my hands over his chest, gently twisting his nipples, then casually letting it drift down over his ridged stomach to grasp and play with his cock. It was fun to hold his balls in my hand, pressing one finger after another, feeling the balls spread back and forth with the pressure of each finger. We were lazy.
Finally, he spoke slowly, "You know, I think I heard about you. . . about a tenderfoot who came from the east. . . " He paused in thought, "Say are you the one they call Blue Steel?"
"Yes, but I don't take pride in it. In fact, I would like to forget it."
"What happened?"
"It was just a fight I should have avoided."
"Tell me about it. Sometimes a person has to fight. We have lots of time. We are going to be here until the storm lets up."
"Well, alright, but to this day I'm not sure how it all happened. I guess it just did."
Roberto and I had ridden to town to order some supplies for the ranch. After the ordering was finished, Roberto said he wanted to see some friends. He would meet me at the Cattleman's Bar. To waste away the time while waiting for him, I ordered a beer. I'm really not much of a drinking man so I only had the one. I was just sitting there waiting for Roberto to show, then head for home. I really wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around me.
I heard the argument start but I didn't know what was going on. I was just minding my own business when suddenly there was this cowboy who I didn't know. Had never met. Just a stranger.
He was standing there in front of me shouting at me, "Tell them, tell them what cowards the rebs are and how you licked their asses. They put their tails between their legs and ran liked whipped dogs at Gettysburg."
I guess that is where I made my mistake. I could have agreed with him. But I knew they hadn't run. They fought like hell. They died coming forward not running away.
I told him, "No, they didn't run. They were brave men."
He was getting red in the face shouting, "You whipped them."
I calmly said to him, trying to calm him down, "Well we stopped their invasion of the north, but they didn't run."
"Fuck you, all rebs are cowards and will run when faced with cold steel and you have the guts to face them. All you gotta' do is face them with cold steel... stick them with a bayonet. They'll run."
I had had enough. I didn't want to argue with him. I don't know if he was drunk or not. I just wanted out.
I put my unfinished beer on the table, put on my hat, started for the door.
He yelled at me so everyone could hear. "Fucking lily ass. You are all brag, you never fought the rebs at Gettysburg or anywhere else."
There was no need to answer him. I just left.
As I was standing on the wooden sidewalk, in front of the saloon, I noticed a squad of soldiers just dismounting in front of the bar. They were in charge of a ser-geant who had chevrons up and down his sleeve. An old timer. We nodded.
The door of the saloon burst open. The cowboy strode up in front of me yelling, "You fucking coward! You never fought the rebs! I'm going to make you admit it. You're just a yellow bastard. Go get a gun. We'll see if you have the balls of a man."
He gathered a mouthful of spit and spat it on my boots. Slow rage had started to build in me. I had no desire to fight, but be was forcing it on me. I knew I had to make a stand. With the rage came a deadly calmness. Again, it was just like a battle. I knew I was going into battle again with all the fear I thought I had left behind me. The fear of battle. The desire to stay alive.
I looked around. My eyes met the eyes of the sergeant. He too was appraising me. Did I deserve respect? Would I fight or run? He had seen it many times. The challenge, the fight, the dead.
My assailant grinned, "I'm going to make you crawl out of town, you shit-loving reb-loving coward."
I knew I had no choice. It was fight or leave town. The west has its code, run or fight.
In some mysterious way, my rage turned into calmness. I told him, "Wait here, I'll be right back."
I strode over to the sergeant. I was no longer just a ranch hand, I was back in the army. I was in command. I knew my orders would be obeyed.
My voice snapped the sergeant to attention, "Sergeant" I said.
He recognized my authority, snapped to attention, "Sir," he said.
"Sergeant, prepare two rifles. Unload them, fix the bayonets. When you have prepared them, present them to the gentlemen for his choice. I shall take the other."
I turned to the cowboy, making sure I stared him right in the eyes. I calmly said, "If you wish to fight, we will fight with rifles with fixed bayonets. The rifles will be unloaded so it will just be blue steel-man to man."
"Wait a minute, I said nothing about bayonets."
I cut him short. "You talked of cold steel. You challenged me so I have the choice of weapons and you have the choice of which gun you wish to fight with. It will be cold steel, just as you wanted."
A voice from the crowd of onlookers who had followed him out of the door to see the fun, said, "That's right. The challenged party has the choice of weapons. Here, I'll take your pistol so it's a fair fight, just you and him. Got to have a fair fight. Never saw a fight with bayonets."
The cowboy could have backed down but now he was being forced to fight just like he had forced me. He knew he couldn't back down. He would never live it down.
The sergeant, ramrod straight, marched up to us. He turned to the cowboy, "Sir, both weapons are unloaded and both bayonets are firmly fixed. Your choice, Sir."
My opponent hesitated, as if to think of somehow get out of the situation, then picked one of the rifles. I took the other piece, marched to the middle of the dusty street, turned, told him, "I am ready."
I watched him come. I waited until he was well clear of the crowd and the sidewalk. Then I started to move towards him. I was killing calm, fully concentrated on the job at hand, knowing in the next few minutes I would either live or die.
I was aware of everything and yet aware of nothing. Only the man in front of me was important. I felt the hot sun beating down, yet did not feel it. I've never been so alert, sensing everything. My eyes never left him as I started my move towards him. I dropped my piece from present arms so the butt rested on my right hip, my left hand creeping forward to find the balance of the stock. The weight was familiar, I had used the gun like this before.
Moving forward, I carefully placed each foot, stepping softly, always on balance. I hesitated as I felt a pebble under the sole of my left boot. I paused, I wanted no misstep, no off-balance movement. I moved towards him, never moving in a straight line. always moving slightly from one avenue of attack to another. I forced him to move each time to counter me, like a boxer, always moving. Always with the bayonet pointed at his stomach. I could see the point, I intended to strike. A button just above his belt was cracked. That was my target.
I could smell the dust of the street, the smell of my unwashed body, the slight sweat that covered it. As I got closer, I was aware of the smell of fear coming from him. I had smelled my own fear before, usually just before the battle started. My fear was gone, I was ready to kill or be killed.
I heard a voice from the crowd as I moved forward, "My God, he's stalking him like a cougar stalks a doe."
I never paused. I heard the voice but maintained my concentration. Now was not the time for talk. Now, a killing calmness had settled over me. We were just a few feet apart.
His eyes shifted from me to my bayonet, a fatal mistake. He drew a deep breath. I knew he was ready to attack. He lunged. It was a simple matter to parry his lunge, meet his blade with mine, force his blade to my left, carrying his blade past my arm. I was inside his attack! His body was open. I struck.
Holding his bayonet locked with my own. I stepped forward with my right foot, swung the rifle butt into his lower stomach smashing the wind from his as it smashed into his cock and balls. He staggered. His hands holding the rifle dropped. He was defenseless. I switched my attack; slapped him across the side of the head with my barrel. He dropped unconscious.
I shifted the rifle, pointed the point of the blade at the cracked button on his shirt. I moved to finish him off. He was powerless to stop me. His eyes flashed open in shocked dismay as the saw my blade pointed at his stomach.
Then I heard it, a voice directly in front of me.
"Please mister, don't kill him. He's my brother." My eyes flashed up. There, standing in front of me was a young boy. Where he came from I never knew. But there he was standing straight, looking me eye to eye. His hands were palm up in a pleading gesture. His clothes were ragged. I could see the tension in him, as his bare toes gripped the dust of the street. His eyes begged and yet his pride held him erect. He had made his plea. The rest was up to me. The eyes locked with mine, pleading yet accepting my decision.
I nodded to him. The killing urge started to leave me. I could feel it drain from my body. I no longer had a need to kill the man. The crowd was silent all locked on me, awaiting my decision to kill or to let live.
I reached down, picked up his rifle, and marched to the sergeant. "Thank you, sergeant for the loan of the weapons. I'm afraid one may have dust in the barrel where it fell in the street and would need cleaning."
He accepted the rifles. "Sir, the officer has fought with cold steel before?"
"Yes, sergeant."
"May I inquire where?"
I heaved a sign from deep in my guts. "Fredericksburg and Little Round Top. God, when will the fighting stop for me?"
"'Tis a pity, Sir. True it is time. Only those who haven't fought want it to go on."
He drew himself to parade attention, "It has been an honor to serve a fighting man. My respects, Sir." His hand came up is a parade ground salute. I stiffened to attention, returned it as one fighting man to another.
I turned away, found myself face to face with Roberto. "I saw it all. What started it?"
"Not now; I just want to get the hell out of here. I hate fighting. I have had too much."
He thought for a moment, "Well you won't have to fight after today. No one is going to want to face your blue cold steel. I guess you'll be called Blue from now on."
I was silent as I thought of what he had said. As we rode slowly, I realized what he said was true. I'd gained an unwanted nickname.
I was roused from my brooding silence when Roberto said, "Come on, follow me."
He turned off the road, leading the way down a narrow lane, an indistinct trail until we came to a small opening in the forest. A small creek ambled its way thru the glen. Roberto swung out of the saddle and I followed. We picketed our horses where they could feed on the lush grass.
He led me to a fallen log, sat down. Throwing his arm over my shoulder he said, "Get it off your chest so you can stop thinking of it. Now tell me how it all happened."
I hesitated, not knowing where to start, "Well, I'm not exactly sure how it all started. That guy was spouting off about how cowardly the southern soldiers were. I disagreed. I've fought them, I know what they are like. They are not cowards."
"Anyway, he kept on, so I thought to get the hell out of there. . . wait for you outside. He followed me out. He kept raving on. I didn't want to fight but he spit on me to get me to fight. Then I saw the soldiers... Oh, hell, you know the rest."
I looked at him, the thought hit me how easy it would have been to die. Never to be with him again. I threw my arms around him, pulling him to me, meeting his lips with mine. It was a kiss of desperation, of love, of longing. My lips ground into his. I wanted him so much.
Suddenly kissing wasn't enough. I tore at his clothes, almost ripping his belt off, I was eager to have him. I wanted him as never before. I guess I was half out of my mind. There was no kindness in me, no loving, just desire and lust for this man. I ripped open his fly to get at his cock and balls. I held them in my hand, squeezed. He groaned. I was unaware that I was giving him pain. He did not object to my treatment.
I eagerly inhaled his limp prick , using my lips to compress it forcing the foreskin back. My tongue washed over the head and glans tasting the cock cheese under the glans. I masturbated his prick with my lips, using my tongue to wash it time and time again. I felt his limp tool grow firm in my mouth. I knew I had control of him thru his cock. It was answering my demands. I knew I would have my way.
Swiftly I turned him over with his jeans pulled down around his knees, his ass open to me. my lips sucked and kissed each cheek. The aroma of his crotch, of his jeans, of his leather saddle, all set my senses singing. I heard him groan in pleasure as my hot tongue washed over and around his asshole. I pressed my face deeper in his ass. I wasn't gentle, didn't care if my beard rubbed his ass raw. I was on fire, answering a demand in my guts I had never felt before. Was it because I had faced death just a short time ago?
But there was no time for thinking. His ass was mine. I wet my rigid cock, placed it firmly on the opening in his asshole. I shoved. I penetrated him with one ramming thrust. I exulted. He was mine! He uttered a startled cry of protest, then was silent. I sank my cock deeper in his ass until I felt my cock hair compress against his cheeks. My cock was deep in his ass.
Somehow there was an urgency in me I had never felt before. Usually, I love to go slow and easy building to a climax with my partner. But not now. Now I just wanted to fuck his beloved ass with no restraints, no thoughts. Just my needs, my fuck.
My actions kept pace with my lusts. I thrust faster and faster, harder and harder.
No one could keep the pace I set. I couldn't either. Before I knew it, I was blasting my cum in his ass. My heart was racing, the blood pounding thru my veins. A hot flush erupted inside of me, flushing my skin. A light sweat covered my body. I came again and again. I was drained.
As I was drained, sanity came back. My breathing return to normal. My cock was still embedded in his ass. I realized bow I had acted. I slowly gently let it slip from him.
"I'm sorry," I said. "Did I hurt you?"
He quietly laughed, "Hurt me? Hell no. It felt good. I knew a real man was fucking me. You were a real tiger. You just needed an outlet after this afternoon. I was the lucky guy. Old Blue sure needed to get his rocks off. I want you to know that men don't fuck me but for a man like you, you can have my ass anytime you want, Mr. Blue."
He grinned at me, "But there is one thing. This rod of mine is hard as can be, just looking for a hungry mouth to take care of it. Happen to know where I could find one?"
I didn't need any instructions. I gently pressed his cock with my lips. Then took it all in my mouth so that my nose was buried in his pubic hair. I could smell the man in him. It smelled and tasted so good! I washed his prick with my lips and tongue. He began to thrust is cock in my mouth, fucking it with deep penetrating drives. I could feel it press against the back of my throat. I felt him stiffen; thrust hard, holding my head in place with his hands as his cock exploded. My mouth was filled with his cock juice. I was drinking my man's essence of manhood. I was part of him and he was part of me. We were one.
We were slow getting our clothes in order. We felt so lazy and so satisfied like one does after good sex. I followed him back to the road as we started for the ranch. We didn't speak as each of us was lost in his own thoughts. It was a silence that only people who are close can share. At times there is no need for talk, the other's presence is enough.
The anger of the fight was gone. I felt clean all over and also felt clean inside. What had happened was past, behind me. Only the present and the future counted. I could still taste the cum in my mouth. I hoped it would be with me always.