by Tom Graham
“ ’Cause he was afraid,” Buck said. “They smell fear.”
There was nothing for Les to do but jump over the fence after him. Some of the boys saw the two of them in the corral and drifted over to see what was happening.
The pinto watched them approach and danced about skittishly, but it kept his eyes on Buck and seemed to be waiting for him. Buck came up to him without pause, and taking hold of his head, he said, “You gotta breathe into its nostrils, like so.” He snorted hard and loud up the horse’s nostrils. To Les’s surprise, the horse responded in kind, its nostrils flaring as it breathed a powerful stream of air into the Nasoni’s face.
“It’s the horse’s way of greeting a friend,” Buck said. “Now you do it.”
Les approached, feeling a little foolish. The pinto whinnied, but its large limpid eyes regarded him with a steady appraisal and it remained motionless. Les leaned forward till his nose almost touched the pinto’s, and breathed out hard, up the animal’s nostrils. He was rewarded with a blast of hot breath that all but choked him.
“Again,” Buck said. Les repeated the ritual. “Now,” he said, “he’s your friend. You can ride him anywhere.”
By now the men were crowded along the fence, staring, no one making a sound. The horse snorted, as if wondering what all the fuss was about. When Les reached up to pet its muzzle, the horse rubbed gently against his hand.
“Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch,” Les said. “You really think he’d let me get on?”
“Won’t neither one of us try to throw you if you want a ride,” Buck said.
The men at the fence laughed loudly. Les blushed crimson, but when Buck put out his hands for a stirrup, he stepped into them and swung a long leg over the pony’s back. There was a moment of silence, everyone holding his breath. Les took hold of the pony’s mane, and a minute later the cowboys saw their boss riding the devil horse bareback around the corral.
That night, Les finished his chores and came out of the barn to find some of the boys throwing knives at a crudely drawn bull’seye they’d tacked to a fence post. As he watched, Buck took a throw and hit the target dead center.
Jack saw Les and nodded in his direction. “Now there’s the champeen knife thrower in these parts,” he said.
“That right?” Buck gave him a speculative look. “How’s about a little friendly competition. Take turns. First one misses the target loses.”
“Ain’t much of a target,” Les said.
“I got a better one for you, if you’re interested,” Buck told him, and the men chuckled.
“Somebody give me a knife,” Les said. He took Jack’s, stepped to the line scratched in the dust, and threw. The knife hit the target just off the bull’s-eye.
Buck took a turn. His Bowie struck dead center again.
Les’s next throw was dead center too, then Buck tossed one that just caught the edge of the target. Les threw another bull’seye, but Buck’s next throw missed the target and thudded into the wood of the fence post.
Les handed Jack back his knife and started away without a word. Buck came after him. “Let’s make it three out of five,” he said.
Les stopped dead still. “Your trouble,” he said, “is you just can’t stand the idea of me topping you.”
“Well, now, ain’t that exactly what I’ve been talking about for days: you topping me?” Buck said.
“Shit fire,” Les snapped and stomped away. What really riled him was that he had been thinking, just now looking at him, that the damned half-breed reminded him of a puppy, all rambunctious and jumping around and wagging his tail. Kind of cute, in a way.
Keep thinking that way, he warned himself, next thing you’ll be plugging that hot butt for him. And that was never going to happen.
His dick took the idea seriously, though.
On Saturday nights the hands generally rode into San Antone to let off a little steam. Les was surprised to find, when they had all left the following Saturday, Buck was still there.
“I thought maybe if it was just the two of us here,” Buck said, grinning. “Nobody would know, is what I mean.”
“Afraid it’s going to be just the one of you. I got to go into town too, but I’m taking the buckboard so I can load up on supplies.” He thought for a minute. “Tell you what, why don’t you come along and we’ll make a stop at Miz Yolanda’s. That is, if you can handle a woman.”
“Sounds like fun,” Buck agreed enthusiastically.
Trouble was, it wasn’t, not for Les, though it surely sounded like it was for Buck. He was in the next cubicle. The arrangements at Yolanda’s didn’t allow much privacy. Buck had ended up picking not one but two girls—one didn’t look much more than a kid herself, and the other was a big one with a hearty laugh and enormous tits. He could hear the three of them in there, laughing and chatting, and then the bedsprings commenced to creak, faster and louder. All kinds of moaning and groaning ensued, then some more fooling, before the bed started up again. Christ, didn’t he ever get tired?
Les wasn’t doing so well, though. He had chosen Rosita, who he’d had before, but he couldn’t seem to get going. He tried a couple times, without success, and blamed that damned racket next door. He worked on himself a bit and tried again while he kept his ear cocked to the wall. Finally, he gave up and put his trousers back on. He’d already paid Yolanda, but he took a dollar out of his pocket and tossed the coin to the girl.
“I guess we don’t have to tell anybody about this,” he said.
“I won’t tell, señor. I promise,” Rosita said, smiling.
He figured by tomorrow everybody at Yolanda’s would know.
Except for Buck’s tuneless whistling, the two men were silent in the buckboard on the way home. Not until they had reached the open country did Buck ask, “How’d you do with little Rosita?”
“Just fine,” Les said in a hearty voice, while his pecker called him a liar. “I pleasured her twice.” He paused. “You took care of both those gals?”
“Hell, I could’ve took two more.”
“You bragging?”
Buck laughed. “No, I swear, no matter how much I pump it, that well never runs dry.” The silence descended again. Les was aware of Buck looking sideways at him. He hoped his hard-on didn’t show. Damned thing had developed a mind of its own lately.
“You still randy?” Buck asked.
“Nope.” Les swallowed hard. “Not after that workout Rosita gave me.”
“Well, he don’t look tired.” Buck reached across and gave Les’s erection a friendly squeeze.
Les was so surprised he couldn’t think straight. His impulse was to shove Buck’s hand away, but somehow his hands wouldn’t do it, and his dick was threatening to burst some buttons. He tried to say something, and opened his mouth, but all that came out was a kind of sputter.
Buck fumbled with the fly. Of its own accord, Les’s butt scooted forward a little to make the buttons easier, and a minute later his dick jumped free.
“Jesus,” Buck said. “That is a pecker and a half.”
Despite himself, Les felt a flush of pride. He swallowed again. He’d never had nobody else’s hand stroke his cock. He’d figured it would feel the same as his own hand, but it felt different. Felt good, actually. That kind of worried him.
That wasn’t but the beginning, though. To Les’s astonishment, Buck leaned across the seat, lowered his head, and put his mouth on Les’s dick. Les near jumped out of his seat. “You oughtn’t do that,” he said. “What if someone was to see?”
“Out here?” Buck laughed. “Ain’t nobody out here but that coyote over yonder. Who’s he gonna tell?”
Buck took it in his mouth again. Les wanted to object but couldn’t. He’d heard about blow jobs and always wondered, but he’d never gotten up the courage to ask Yolanda’s girls to do it, afraid they’d think he was queer. Now, here he was with Buck slobbering all over his knob with that hot, wet mouth, the tongue flicking around under the flange. He gasped as Buck took all ten in
ches down his throat.
Between unfinished business at Yolanda’s, and what Buck was doing, Les came all too quickly. His entire body seemed to be erupting out of his cockhead into that hungry mouth.
“Hoo-ee!” Buck said, licking his lips. “You had all that left after Rosita?”
“I got me a pretty good well, too,” Les said dryly.
“We got miles yet to go,” Buck said, and would have resumed sucking, but Les put his hand down and pushed him away.
“I’m fine,” he said. He tucked his dick back into his trousers, not without some difficulty—it was still half hard and didn’t want to go.
Buck shrugged and sat up on his side of the seat. They rode the rest of the way in silence.
Les stopped the buckboard by the kitchen door. “I’ll say good night,” he said.
“I’ll help you with the supplies,” Buck said.
“No need. I’ll unload everything myself.”
“Hell, I’ll gladly help you with a load anytime.”
“Listen…,” Les said. He had been thinking the rest of the trip about what to say. “What happened back there, hell, I was curious, that’s all. I never had nobody do that before, but don’t you be getting ideas. I ain’t queer neither.”
“A man likes what he likes.”
“You can like all you like,” Les said. “Just don’t expect it to happen again. I was just curious.”
Buck jumped to the ground and grinned up at him. “Well, you get curious again, you know where I sleep,” he said. “Maybe I’ll grease my butthole, just in case.”
Even in the moonlight, Les’s blush was obvious. “You have a good night’s sleep,” he said, and drove toward the barn.
It was a good hour before Les got everything put away and the horses settled. He came through the kitchen and, seeing a faint glow of light from Buck’s room, he went and looked in. Buck was naked on his pallet, back to the door. His round little butt looked as soft and downy as a baby’s in the lantern’s glow. Les’s pecker got excited all over again.
“Well, hell,” he told himself. “No sense going halfway down the trail.”
He thought Buck was asleep. He freed his pecker and got behind him, but he no sooner had then Buck reached back and took hold of him. He scooted back and guided Les’s dick to him. Les felt a shudder of excitement as the tip of his knob found the little hole. Damned if it wasn’t greased. Hole was little, though, and pole big. He pushed, and Buck groaned.
“Don’t you be complaining,” Les said. “Way you been begging.”
“Don’t hear me begging you to quit, do you?” Buck shoved back hard at him and Les’s prick slid halfway in. Jesus, that was tight. He hesitated, afraid he was paining his partner.
“I never done this before,” he said.
“Me neither.”
“You never took it up the ass before?”
“Not no fence post,” Buck said. He twisted his little butt around and almost made Les shoot a load right there and then. “You going to fuck, or you going to lay there jabbering?”
That did it. Les shoved him over on his belly, rolling on top of him. He drove it home and began to fuck Buck in earnest. He didn’t care now if it did hurt. But if Buck minded, he had a peculiar way of showing it. He could’ve made butter the way his butt was churning.
“How’s that feel?” Buck asked breathlessly.
“It’s okay,” Les panted.
Buck snorted. “Liar. Just okay?”
“Son of a bitch, all right, it feels fuckin’ great, you stupid bastard.” For revenge, he began to ramrod Buck, pulling back until only the tip was still inside, then burying his cock to his balls, so hard that Buck gave a little woof of breath at the impact. Buck twisted all the harder and arched his back to get everything he could.
He reached for Les’s hand and put it on his dick. Les had never held any cock but his own. He slid his fingers up and down, surprised at how slick it felt. Hell, maybe he’d greased that, too. It was hard as rock, though not as big as his, but nothing to be ashamed of either.
Les ground into the man, and Buck moaned with pleasure. It gave Les an odd thrill to know his dick could make somebody that happy. Yolanda’s girls all moaned and groaned, but he knew instinctively Buck’s pleasure was real, and that he was creating it. He felt a surge of sexual power and pride he had never known.
When the hole he was poking suddenly spasmed about his dick and his hand was all wet, he realized belatedly that Buck had come. The discovery brought him off as well, and he pumped a powerful eruption up Buck’s tight hole.
They lay for several minutes, regaining their breath. Les slipped his dick out, even though it hadn’t yet gone down any.
“I guess that’ll satisfy my curiosity,” he said.
“Maybe you ought to take turnabout,” Buck said. “If you ain’t tired. Finish your education.”
“School’s over,” Les got up and tucked his unhappy prick back in his trousers. “Busy day tomorrow. Best get some sleep.”
Most of the week that followed, Les made it a point to avoid Buck. When they did meet, though, Buck was strangely subdued. In place of his usual tomfoolery, he’d just smile and look down kind of shy-like. Even the other cowhands noticed something different, though they weren’t sure what. Les saw them looking at him and Buck a little curiously.
Saturday night came again, and the boys rode into town. Les thought about Yolanda’s, but he’d be embarrassed if the girls all knew about the last time. Maybe he’d go look for a poker game at the cantina instead. He went out to the trough by the barn to wash up. He was only half surprised when Buck came out of the barn.
“You might as well’ve gone with the boys,” Les said, ignoring him and stripping off his shirt. “I’m fixing to ride into town. By myself.” He emphasized the last part.
“What about…you know? Saturday night’s our night, ain’t it?”
“Our night? We ain’t got no night.”
“Well, you being shy, and everybody gone, seems like that’s the best time for us.”
“Damn it, they ain’t no us,” Les said vehemently. “You get that shit out of your head. Just ’cause I fucked you once don’t mean I’m going to again.” He took a bucket and splashed water over his back and chest.
“The trouble with you,” Buck said, “is you’re too damned stupid to see what we got here.”
Les turned on him. “All we got here is a hot-assed half-breed who had to have my dick. Now he thinks he’s gotta stick something up my ass, only that ain’t never gonna happen.”
“All that’s making you sore,” Buck said, jabbing a finger at Les’s hairy chest, “is your asshole’s been twitching for it since I got here and you ain’t man enough to admit it.”
This really riled Les, because he did have a funny kind of tingling back there that he hadn’t yet put any name to. “Bastard,” he swore, and swung his fist, only Buck wasn’t where’d been. “Damnation,” he said, and swung again, and again Buck dodged the blow.
With a roar, Les charged at him, and somehow their feet got tangled and they fell to the ground. They rolled back and forth in the dirt, punching ineffectively at each other and grunting and snarling. “Son of a bitch,” someone said, and, “Cocksucker.”
After a few minutes they fell apart and lay side by side, breathing heavy.
“Don’t look like nobody’s winnin’,” Les said. They both got up, dusting themselves and feeling a little foolish.
“You’re bleeding,” Buck said.
“I rolled on some rocks is all.”
“I’ll wash you off.” Buck took off his bandana and dipped it in the trough.
“I can wash my own self.”
“Let me,” Buck said. “I want to.”
Les hesitated, and when he didn’t object, Buck washed the dirt and blood off Les’s thick chest.
“Buck ain’t no real name,” Les said, to take his mind off the hand rubbing across one copper penny.
“Buckaroo. Bastard for vaquero
. It’s William Horse, but I always been Buck.” He rubbed the other penny. “What’s Les mean?”
“Sylvester.” Buck laughed aloud. “What’s so goddamn funny?”
“Sounds like some prissy city dude, walks funny and all.”
Les laughed too, but he grew sober as Buck’s hand moved slowly over his abdomen. His dick swelled.
“What I did, the other night,” Les kind of stammered. “Don’t that, well, don’t it hurt, having that shoved up your ass?”
“At first. Feels better as it goes. Lots better.”
“What if someone was to try,” Les looked over Buck’s shoulder, “and say he didn’t like it and wanted to stop?”
“I always promise I’ll take it out if it hurts.”
“Do you ever? Take it out?”
“No-o-o. By the time we talk it over, they generally decide they’d just as soon I put the rest in.”
Les laughed, and caught his breath as those determined fingers pulled his pecker free. That damn traitor! Hadn’t never been so hard, so often. He could’ve pounded nails with the thing.
Buck looked up, and their eyes met. Les surprised both of them by suddenly grabbing hold of the man and kissing him, tentatively at first; then their mouths were grinding together, teeth scraping, bodies trying to find ways to get even closer.
“There’s some new hay up in the loft,” Les said when they paused for breath. “Soft as feathers.”
Buck laughed deep in his throat and led him into the barn, pausing to bolt the door, case anybody came back early. There was a can of axle grease by the buckboard, and he took that with him. By the time he topped the ladder, Les was lying on the hay in his union suit, eyes closed.
“Why don’t you get them long johns off?” Buck said, hastily shedding his own clothes.
“There’s a trap door in the back of them.”
“I got me a beautiful man in the hay, and I want to see what I got.”
“Never heard no man called beautiful,” Les grumbled, but he peeled the union suit off and lay back naked, dick standing tall. An owl fluttered its wings in the rafters.
