Dutch's Boy

by Xavier Axelson

  “You must have really lost your damn mind yesterday out in the sun, what are you thinking running around half dressed?” Reb said through a yawn.

  “You should talk,” Harry said, looking at Reb who was wearing only his boxers. Harry could just make out the outline of Reb’s semi-hard cock and had to stifle the moan building in his throat. Memories of the night before had his own dick waking up and paying attention, too.

  “No rodeo today, ” Reb said, taking one of the coffees that Harry offered, “you get any sugar?”

  Harry fished in his pockets and pulled the wad of packets out, dropping several on the ground. “Yeah, guess not.” He bent to pick them up and as he did Reb pressed his crotch directly into Harry’s face.

  “I got a job for you right here if you’re interested cowboy,” Reb said. “Why don’t you come on in here and get to work?”

  Harry’s face was scarlet, he looked around quickly, the parking lot was empty, no one had seen, and his own cock was throbbing against the zipper of the borrowed jeans.

  Once inside Harry luxuriated in Reb’s body, he let himself savor every engorged inch of Reb’s beautifully thick cock. At one point Reb opened a couple packets of sugar and poured them on his cock as Harry sucked it. The melting sweetness of the sugar mixed with the saltiness of sweat and spit made Harry crazy. The same sudden need to run across the parking lot half-naked in the pouring rain have overcome him again as he pulled away from Reb’s now sticky sweet cock. He looked at it, gripped it so tightly that Reb let out a deep groan. Harry could feel the blood pulsing through Reb’s cock, could feel the ache in Reb’s tensing muscles.

  “Suck it, suck that fucking cock,” Reb gasped as he arched his back, forcing his cock closer to Harry’s mouth.

  Harry wanted to suck it, wanted to feel Reb’s cum fill his mouth, but instead he teased the head with his tongue, running it around in circles while he kept his vice like grip on the swollen member. He relished Reb’s torment and his own excitement at holding Reb’s release back, keeping him just poised on the edge of climax. He continued licking and then stroking, coaxing bead after sticky bead of precum out of Reb’s angry, sugar coated cock.

  “Look at my cock when you suck it,” Reb ordered.

  Harry was more than happy to oblige, seeing Reb’s hard cock as well as tasting it was so hot, Harry could barely stand it. He watched as Reb’s hands found the sides of the chair and gripped hard as if hoping that the pressure would somehow ease his need.

  It was when Reb thrust his hips violently towards Harry and began struggling against Harry’s grip that Harry finally gave in. Instead of taking Reb’s entire cock in his mouth he only took the head in and continued massaging the meaty head with his tongue, and then behind it along the back. The sugary sweetness was gone, melted away with Harry’s copious spit and Reb’s precum, now all he could smell and taste was Reb’s intoxicating scent. He heard himself begin to moan as he let loose his grip on Reb and began stroking the pulsing cock. He felt Reb’s first shot of cum hit the back of his throat even before Reb called out that he was cumming. Harry didn’t stop stroking; he stroked harder, faster, his mouth and tongue working in unison to milk every last drop of cum from Reb’s erupting cock.

  “Fuck!” Reb yelled.

  Harry rolled his eyes up just in time to see Reb release a hand from the chair and force a forearm across his mouth.

  It was only when Reb’s body finally stopped shaking that Harry released the drained cock from his mouth. “Bet you didn’t know I had it in me,” Harry said as he fell back on his heels, wiping the sleeve of one of their t-shirts across his face.

  “Shit, I didn’t know I had that in me, I might need to see a priest after this.” Reb sounded slightly winded, his chest continued to heave. “ I think I saw lights when I was cumming, you just about made my head explode.”

  “Something about being away from home has just made me different, like some animal inside got loose. I’m not sure I know what I’m doing.” Harry leaned back towards Reb who in mock terror started to back away. They both laughed, Harry felt his blush come back, and he hung his head down by Reb’s thighs.

  “Funny, I got the impression you knew just what you were doing,” Reb said stroking the back of Harry’s head. “Why don’t you call your Ma while I hop in the shower and try and get my head back from wherever you just sent it?”

  It was only after Harry heard Reb in the shower that he called home and this time his sister answered.

  “Harry? Oh boy Ma’s been trying to get you, Daddy ain’t home.” Harry could hear the anxiety in his sister’s voice.

  “What do you mean? Where is he?”

  There was a pause then and a slight scuffling. “Harry.” His ma had taken the phone. “ Harry, listen your Daddy is still up at the rodeo, he just called this morning after making me crazy with nerves, that man calls me to say he missed his train. You know what that means, son?”

  If Reb had seen lights when Harry was blowing him, Harry began to see darkness as his Ma gave him the news.

  “What is it?” Reb asked, a towel wrapped around his waist, he looked bright to Harry, new and familiar all at once.

  “It’s Dutch, he’s still here, he’s still at the rodeo,” Harry said, still holding onto the phone. He had lost time somewhere between when his Ma had hung up and when Reb got out of the shower. His world suddenly felt as if it were breaking up under his feet.

  “So what?” Reb asked as he toweled his head and began searching for a fresh pair of boxers.

  “If he sees me he’ll make me go home with him, cause all kinds of ruckus, he won’t get on that train without me.” Harry’s voice had taken on an empty quality, the energy he had felt before, the freedom that had sent him out into the rain and seized him when he was close to Reb now seemed to be somewhere else.

  “Harry, you’re a grown ass man, and Dutch ain’t nothin’ but a blowhard. You know that. You ain’t gettin’ on any train with him, not after what we’ve both gone through to get you here. Now get up and get in the shower, I told you we were going to the rodeo today and so we are!”

  “Maybe he’s right though, maybe I shouldn’t have left until I trained a bit more with him.” Harry felt Reb pry the phone from his grip; the words he spoke seemed to echo in his head.

  “Naw, don’t do that shit. Train when? When did Dutch ever train you, except to be his stand-in back home? No, you trained yourself every day, every time you got on a horse, every time you roped a horse or gave lessons, you was training. This is it my man, you’re here and that’s the way it is.”

  “Rains just about stopped, might be people up there yet,” Reb said as he pulled his truck out of the motel parking lot.

  Harry stayed quiet, his mind was rattled, too many things were running wild inside him, and he couldn’t really tell how he was feeling.

  “You alright?” Reb asked.

  Harry could hear his concern but he couldn’t reply, could only nod, and stare at the rain that ran down his window. It was only when they pulled into the muddy parking lot, more an abandoned field than anything else, and saw all the trucks, trailers and cars that he realized Red had been right.

  “Damn,” Reb said and then let out a long whistle, “guess we were the only ones not here.”

  There were plenty of people milling about the enclosed part of the arena. It looked like the vendors were still selling food and Harry could see various lines of hopeful cowboys looking to sign up for tomorrows events.

  It was only after Reb parked that Harry felt his courage return.

  “You ready?” Reb asked as he opened his door.

  “I reckon I am,” Harry responded, his own hand finding the door handle and turning it, “ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Then let’s get you in line and signed up,” Reb said dropping down from the truck and adjusting his hat, “it’s time Dutch makes some room up there in the sky for another star.”

  Harry looked up. “Funny, all I see is clouds.”


  2

  “Ain’t you Dutch’s boy?”

  Harry had heard this his whole life and now as he was standing waiting in hopes to earn a place in the amateur saddle bronc contest being held the next day, he heard it again.

  “I know you; you’re Dutch Reynolds boy, Harry, right?

  Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle, it was bound to happen, Dutch was here, and it was only natural that his band of roadies and handlers would be milling around looking for something to do while their boss was off doing who knows what. Harry realized he would have to turn around and face the man who had called out to him. Just as he turned to face the man with the question he heard Reb’s voice calling out from the other direction, he thought he was saved.

  “Hey, you still in line? Come on over, I want you to meet someone,” Reb said. He motioned to Harry but stopped. Harry realized Reb must have recognized whoever it was who had just called out to Harry.

  “Reb Alistair? Shoot, now I know that must be Harry Reynolds, you boys always was stuck together like shit on a shoe!” A thick laugh followed. Harry failed to catch Reb’s eye, who was tipping his hat in Harry’s direction.

  “Mr. Bowlswurth, how you doin?” Reb’s tone was clipped, he had somehow managed to cloak any surprise he might have been feeling, and Harry hoped he would be able to manage the same trick. Harry turned and was almost immediately affronted with Mr. Bowlswurth. A massive man who towered over Harry and whose bulk was just as overwhelming, Bowlswurth had been with Dutch since the beginning and was all too familiar with Dutch’s feelings about Harry’s joining the rodeo circuit.

  “Something wrong with your Ma, Harry? Everything okay back home?” Bowlswurth put a large hand on Harry’s shoulder; Harry could feel the weight of the man’s mitt through his shirt, the steel like grip that had served Dutch well in dealing with a sometimes-rowdy rodeo crowd.

  “All’s well, Mr. Bowlswurth, we just come up to see the rodeo is all. I kinda surprised Harry with tickets,” Reb said, as he offered a hand to Bowlswurth who ignored the gesture.

  “I ain’t talkin’ to you, Reb Alistair, you ain’t nothin’ but trash around town, your Daddy was trash and your Momma ain’t been seen since she spit you out, so you just keep quiet.” Bowlswurth didn’t even look to see if Reb was gonna take a punch; both men knew it would be futile. “ Harry, what you doing so far from home? I’m pretty sure your Daddy told you to stay put until he got back, you supposed to be watchin' out for your Ma and sister, not up here playing cowboy with your friend over there.” Bowlswurth took his eyes off Harry long enough to look at Reb and spit in his direction.

  “Bowlswurth?”

  Harry watched as a large smile began to spread across Bowlswurth’s pudgy face. Harry tried to see Reb but he was standing too close to him to see him, but he could feel his steady but weary presence. They all knew that voice.

  “Bowlswurth, you fat fuck who you talking up now?”

  “Over here, Sir, just over chattin’ with a couple a boys you might know.” Bowlswurth took his hand off Harry who practically fell back from the sudden release of pressure but felt himself instead being thrust forward right into Dutch Reynolds.

  Harry looked quickly over at Reb who looked as if he were thinking of what to say.

  “Holy shit, well holy fucking shit, Bowlswurth, I know I don’t see my crazy son standing right before me, my eyes must be playing tricks on me,” he said talking over Harry’s head at Bowlswurth who was standing so close to Harry he was beginning to feel like he’d trip on his massive feet at any second.

  “Somethin’ wrong with your Ma, boy? Cause I know that would be the only reason you’d come up this way.”

  Harry felt his face reddening, he wasn’t afraid of Dutch or even Bowlswurth, hell, he had grown up around them, but Dutch always had a way of demeaning Harry that even now he began to feel the familiar humiliation creep into his chest. Sweat had begun to form on his back and was rolling down in cold trickles along his spine. He was still looking at the ground thinking of what to say when he heard Reb speak up.

  “He ain’t here cuz your wife is sick, Harry’s here to pre-qualify for…“

  “Reb Alistair, I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut, boy,” Bowlswurth said, moving towards Reb, which caused the people who were standing around in line to move away.

  Harry thought he heard some alarmed voices call something out. Dutch held a hand up and Bowlswurth immediately fell in place back behind Harry. Harry looked from Dutch to Bowlswurth; he could see an amused glint in his father’s eyes.

  “Is that right son? You came up here lookin’ to be a rodeo star? ” He dropped his voice to its most condescending, a tone Harry was all too familiar with.

  “That’s right, you smug bastard—”

  “Reb, don’t.” Harry’s voice sounded stronger than he had anticipated. It must have surprised Dutch but only for a second, because then he was laughing.

  “Well if that don’t beat a whore, ehh, Bowlswurth? This here pup’s come to ride the horsies at the rodeo!”

  Bowlswurth laughed. Harry could feel the man’s giant stomach shaking with mirth against his back.

  “Well then, let him ride, in fact I’m gonna help you out, son, after all you are Dutch Reynolds boy and since you feel you’re ready then who am I to stop you?”

  Reb came closer to Harry and Harry could feel his hand brush against his and took some sort of comfort that he wasn’t alone, they both knew Dutch well enough that something lay just beneath the surface of his kindness and they both seemed to be bracing for the worst.

  “Bowlswurth, you remember that horse we just got, what that old squaw call him who we bought him from?”

  Bowlswurth finally stepped from behind Harry and joined his boss. “Think was something like Dessert Demon, or Dessert Devil, something like that, hell, it might just have been Satan,” he choked out between bouts of laughter.

  “See, son, I always bring a new horse home with me, surely you and this here gutter trash you call a friend must remember. Each trip I comes home with a finely trained beauty ready for the ranch, well this time ain’t no different, trouble is he ain’t been properly broke yet, but this shouldn’t be a problem for an experienced bronc rider like you, should it, son?”

  Harry looked at Reb, but Reb was staring directly at Dutch, eyes unblinking, a red rage burning beneath his skin. Harry could practically feel the anger coming off him in waves.

  Harry met Dutch’s glare for just a second, and to his surprise it wasn’t anger or even intimidation that he saw in his father’s eyes. There was something else and for a moment, Harry thought he saw something like pride burning in those eyes but then it was gone and where there might have been pride Harry quickly saw something else, something he had never seen there before, jealousy.

  “Speak of devils,” Dutch said, his eyes leaving Harry, “here comes the man who knows Hell better than old Lucifer himself.”

  Harry turned and was stunned to see someone he thought he would never see again.

  “Son, this here is the man who’s been training my horses since you were just a kid on a hobby horse, Blake Doogan.”

  At first, Harry was unsure if it was the same man from the train but when Blake came up to them and saw Harry, there was a flash of surprise, replaced quickly with amusement in Blake’s eyes.

  “Doogan, this here is my son Harry.” Dutch looked over at Reb and added, “and this here is his friend, no accounting for taste, guess it doesn’t run in the family, ehh, Bowlswurth?” Both men broke into laughter.

  “You wouldn’t be familiar.” Dutch said to Harry, “Doogan ain’t exactly the kinda man you bring around the family ranch for Sunday dinner, ain’t that right Doogan?” Dutch didn’t wait for a reply before adding, “he trains on his place out here, far away from civilized folk.”

  Harry took Blake’s outstretched hand.

  “You oughtta get to know my son, Doogan, he came all the way up here to ride the rodeo, wants to be a bi
g star like his Daddy, doncha, boy?” Dutch’s laughter died as fast as it started and a sharp look at Bowlswurth cut the big man’s laughter as well. “ You see, Doogan, I want to be supportive of my son, he needs a good horse to ride tomorrow and I couldn’t let him make his saddle bronc debut on just any old rodeo horse they might have lying about so I thought you might get him up on our newest member of the family.”

  Blake turned from Harry as if Dutch had cursed his mother, “Mr. Reynolds, you know I ain’t one to question much, but you know that bastard ain’t—”

  “That’s exactly what I like most about you, Doogan, no questions, I want my son to ride that horse or you and his little fan club can all go right back to the ranch tomorrow and you can find yourself another gig. Knowing what I knows about you, Doogan, that ain’t gonna be so easy. Besides,” Dutch said looking Harry up and down, “this here is my boy, surely he ain’t gonna let his Daddy down.” With that, he turned and walked away.

  Bowlswurth was just about to follow Dutch but stopped and added, “cuz if he let his Daddy down, it might the last time he does anything.”

  Harry could only watch as his father and Bowlswurth disappeared into the milling crowd. Dutch always had the ability to suck life up into a vacuum and when he was gone, it seemed as if the world was vomited back into existence. Harry was suddenly aware of noise again, of other people, and of the two men who stood staring at one another and then at Harry.

  “I’ll say this for the old boy, he sure can clear a path,” Blake said as he looked around.

  The line that Harry had been waiting in had reformed behind him and for the rest of the day it seemed as if people intentionally avoided them.

  “What am I going to do?” Harry asked as they walked to the exit, he wasn’t even sure to whom he was speaking. The sun had finally come out if just to turn around again and sink beneath the horizon.

  “I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do,” Blake said. “I’m gonna drink.”