Date: Sat, 14 Jun 2014 18:19:06 -0400 (EDT) From: Milford Slabaugh Subject: A Father Has His Reasons A FATHER HAS HIS REASONS By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM "Next!" came the call and Breyer stepped up to the mark. The man at the fence hastily set up a half-dozen empty bottles on the top rail and then raced back. "Whenever you're ready." said Mr. Dawber. He was seated in a large woven-reed chair set in the only shady spot in the area. On either side, a pair of hard-eyed men stood at the ready, just in case. Breyer marked their positions before he turned toward the fence and got into position. He drew with a speed to his hand that the eye couldn't follow, and his pistol fired off in rapid succession, one-two-three-four-five-six. And the bottles flew apart, one with each shot. He reloaded his weapon while the oohs and ahhs reverberated. "Very nice." Mr. Dawber said. "Best I've seen yet." The man to his left didn't seem as impressed. "Best at shooting a target that just stands here." he huffed. "How's he going to do in a real combat?" Breyer finished loading his weapon and reholstered it, then drew it again and whirled, fired once, twice, three times. The first two shots blew the two guards' hats off their heads, the third slammed into the blusterer's holstered sidearm before he could draw. The man snatched his hand away quickly, put it to his mouth in pain, a ludicrous gesture of agony on his face. "Damn it all!" he complained. "There weren't no reason for you to be doing that!" "Should have put one between your teeth." Breyer said in a laconic drawl. "Would'a shut you up." "Let him be." Mr. Dawber said. "Pay the man his prize." he told his bookkeeper, and the man advanced and handed Breyer a twenty-dollar gold coin. "Are you open to some more business long as you're here?" "What kind of business?" Breyer asked, not really interested. "Business" meant they wanted him to stay in one place a while, that was usually a bad idea for any talented gun-for-hire. Not only did it tie down anyone with a bit of wanderlust, it also left a man a sitting duck for any young idiot out to establish his own bad-ass reputation. Mr. Dawber laid it out, and it was nothing that he hadn't heard before. The man was out to claim all the land around and several small landowners stood in his way. He was to be the one that shot these inoffensive men in their beds and be hunted by the marshalls most likely, while the big man kept his own hands prissy-clean. "Thanks." Breyer said when the man was done with what was supposed to be an enticing pitch of gold and glory. "But I don't think I can do it. I'm a traveling man." "Too bad." Mr. Dawber said. "You won't want to hang around these parts then, I think. Too bad, I could have used you." "I'm sure you could have." Breyer said simply. He had pocketed his gold piece and his weapon. He'd stop in the town for a drink, a bath and a night's sleep, then move out in the morning. Another town, another day. He took the room and bath first, then with his clothes being washed so they'd be ready the next day, he donned his spare set and went to the saloon. The barkeep had to work to make the change for him, but by accepting a handful of pennies, Breyer was able to cash the large coin. A good thing, a poker game beckoned and the players (he'd been watching them carefully while the barkeep scrounged for change) were honest enough. A man came into the saloon, but he didn't hitch up to the bar. Simple clothes that screamed "small farmer," he looked about and settled upon Breyer. Came over and stood quietly until the current hand was done. "Mr. Breyer, sir." he said. "Yeah?" Breyer didn't look around. "I hear you're the best shot around." "Maybe." Breyer didn't believe in bragging. "You won that shooting contest." "I did." "Then I would like to hire you if I could." "For what?" The man looked at the not-very-friendly crowd around. Most of these hands were employed by Mr. Dawber and Breyer could see that the man wasn't welcome here. "Maybe we could speak in private. I could buy you some supper." Breyer looked at the rather homely, simple face. "Sounds good to me." He said and scooped up his money. He was down about a dollar in this penny-ante game, not that he cared, but it made the players sad to see him go. The man paid for steaks and was silent while Breyer enjoyed his plate. When they were down to coffee, he said, "You know what Mr. Dawber is up to?" "I heard about it." "I could use someone to help me protect my land." the man said simply. "If he's got guns, I need them, too. Of course, I can't pay much, but...." "Not interested." Breyer felt, given the man had paid for his meal, that he should give the man the dignity of a straight answer. "I'm sorry you're in this position, but these fights never end honorably, not on either side. I'm a hired gun, but I'm no stony-eyed killer who kills for money." "I have a son." the man said like that would convince Breyer. "Then sell your land for what Dawber will pay you for it, and get him the hell out of here." "My wife is buried on my land. And my two daughters. Just me and my son left. Leaving my land would be like leaving them. I can't do it." "Then you're going to die." Breyer predicted. The man didn't speak, simply poured the last of the coffee into Breyer's cup. Then raised his own. "I guess we all do what we have to do." he said. Breyer took his own cup up and accepted the "toast." "That we do." The moment he took the drink from the cup, he knew it tasted wrong. But he'd swallowed the luke-warm brew almost entirely as the man had. The man sat and watched as Breyer regarded him with horror, and then slumped over the table, and darkness claimed him. He awakened some time later, and it was daylight again. He stirred on the bed, and as he moved, he realized four things. First, he was on a bed under a blanket. Second, he was naked under this blanket. Third, he was tied in place, hands and feet, to the four posts of the bed, spread-eagled and helpless. Fourth, he was being watched. A young boy was sitting on a chair nearby, his legs kicking back and forth aimlessly, looking at the big, brawny stranger tied to his parents' bed. Father's bed, Breyer amended to himself, the man had identified himself as a widower. This must be his son, the family resemblance made that clear, though this boy's face held a well-formed beauty that the father could never have had. The same features as the father, but in better proportions. "Hello." the boy said soberly. "Hello." "I'm David." the boy identified himself. "And you're Breyer." "Yep." Breyer shifted. "Your father tied me up here. You know why?" "Nuh-uh." David said. "But he told me to get him when you woke up." "Why don't you do that, then." Breyer sagged back as David left. The man was going to try to convince him to stay and protect this worthless piece of land (all land in this area of the country was nearly worthless, poor farming country, that is). He felt just sorry enough for the bastard to not kill him out of hand at his first chance. He'd just leave. He tested the ropes, but they were new fibers and well-knotted, he couldn't break free quickly. And the boy was back with his father in only a few minutes. "Mr. Breyer?" "Just Breyer." Breyer wasn't his real name, but it was all he was giving people these days. "I know you're going to be angry at me, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is that you help me protect my son. He's all I got left." "And why should I do that?" The man turned to his son. "Like I told you, David." David began to immediately take off his clothes. Breyer saw the boy was wearing only his outer clothing, unusual in this climate, the nights could be bitterly cold, underwear was needed in all but the hottest months, and it was customary to wear them year round. But the boy was bare waisted and pulling off his shoes and socks, and reaching for his pants when the father acted. A hard yank and the blanket was skimmed off Breyer's body, leaving him naked and exposed before this father and son. "Gosh!" was David's observation as he saw what was probably the first nude man he'd ever seen. Breyer had lived hard these past twenty-two years. He was young, still unscarred, stubbly-bearded on his square jaws under dark eyes and hair. His chest was broad and made a huge mound below his face, the waist was slender and taut, the legs and arms were strong and well-muscled, finely trained to move and act in one accord. A straggly patch of chest hair was endorsed with more scraggly growths on his legs and a thinner match on his forearms, otherwise, his skin was a golden tan in color, darker on his face and hands were the unforgiving sun bit his flesh unhindered. "The goose grease, David." his father instructed and David handed his father the tin. A lubricating oil made from the vaunted fowl, it was used in many home remedies and for many purposes, such as the one that the father now used, which was to grip and slather Breyer's dong with the grease liberally. Breyer gasped at this unforgivable intrusion into his privacy. He couldn't let this insult pass on unavenged in some wise. At least beat the tar out of the man. What was the feeble-minded farmer trying here anyway, it was like he was trying to...trying to.... The strokes on Breyer's prong could not be ignored, it rose to slow rigidity right in front of this innocent boy's wondering eyes. David regarded the greasy man-tool with a rapturous and avid curiosity. Had he fallen afoul of a group of perverts here? No, in that case, there would be several of them around, not just one man and his son. And why was the man's son also unclothed, but the father completely garbed? His cock was at full attention now, a proud private in his glory, nine solid inches of male meat, and coated in a heavy layer of the thick lard. "What the hell is this?" Breyer grunted. "Why are you doing this?" "I have my reasons." the man said. Breyer still didn't even know his name. "That's all you need to know right now." "Okay, so I'm naked and hard." Breyer said. "What you going to do, teach your son about the birds and bees using me as the example?" "Not quite." the man set the tin aside (he'd used most of it on Breyer's pud) and said, "Come here, son." Breyer watched as the man lifted his son up, shifted his grip so that he held his child by his legs, the child's back up against his chest and was moving to place his son over Breyer's midsection. Breyer watched the movements with increasing certainty. Surely the man wouldn't! Not that! Not his own son! "What the hell are you doing?" "Get ready for it, son." the man ignored Breyer's interjection. "Brace for it, it's going to hurt a lot at first." "You can't be serious!" Breyer groaned as the man held his son over Breyer's dong and lowered him carefully, aligning the tender young buttocks so that they were centered over Breyer's towering prick. "You can't be!" he moaned a final time, and then David's young sphincter contacted Breyer's glans in unredoubtable position. David grunted as his father lowered him onto Breyer's prong. "Uhh! Uhhhhh!" As his father lowered him even more. "You have to take it all, son." his father advised him. "No, he doesn't! Get him off me, you sick pervert!" Breyer grunted. Shit, he couldn't help it, that tight little butthole felt damned good on his long-neglected prick! He wasn't to blame for any of this, could he be blamed for liking how it felt? "Get him off me!" "Take it all, son." the father lowered him more and Breyer's glans popped into the tiny anus and David moaned in his pain. "It hurts, Daddy, it hurts!" he breathed huskily in his father's ear. His father held him gently as he continued his movement. "It has to be done, David, I told you that. No other choice. You have to do it, all of it." "Okay, Daddy." And David continued to make small animal sounds of pain as his father pushed him further and further down on Breyer's thick man-meat. "Oh, God, you can't be doing this!" Breyer breathed. "You can't do this to me! You can't!" "Just a little further now, Son." "Oh, Daddy!" "Get him off me, get him off me!" "Oh, Daddy, Daddy!" "Just a little more!" "Oh, Daddy!" "You sick piece of crap!" Breyer groaned as the man slid his son's body completely down onto his cock. "You can't make me fuck your son, you can't make me!" "Oh, Daddy!" David sunk onto Breyer's body in limp joining with the big man tied on the bed. The movement made his small butt clench and Breyer gasped as the pressure stimulated him. "Don't move, David, don't move." he groaned. "We'll get you out of this." "Like I showed you, Son." the father went on inexorably. "It's the only way, and you have to do it. Like I showed you." David rose up and that sent Breyer's cock back deep inside the small body, and then David began to slowly move up and down on Breyer. Shit! The boy was fucking himself on Breyer! "You can't do this to me, you can't!" he moaned helplessly. "Why are you doing this to me? Why?" "Keep going, Son." the man said to his child. "Milk this man for all you got! Make him feel better than he's ever felt in his life." "Okay, Daddy!" The boy was an obvious virgin but his father must have given the boy detailed instructions on the way to move to please a man. What dark schooling this young male child must have had that he could begin now to sexually pleasure the dark-haired stranger now strapped to the bed and helpless beneath him. As the boy moved, he gained in confidence and ability. Breyer felt the boy's movements like the best whore he'd ever had riding his tool, this small angelic form, soft and pliable, his face softened in the first discovery of the body's pleasure at having a man's prong shoved up his backside. Breyer had taken and given such pleasures at times in his past, when women were scarce and the comradeship was strong. He knew that it was the finest joy in the world to have a thick man dong driving in you, if you couldn't find a willing woman to share your bed, a willing man was nearly as good and better in some ways. But this was the best of all! A young boy, untrained save for what he learned by riding on Breyer's own tool, instruction in how to please this one cock, this one man, by watching how his movements sent the big brawny stud beneath him into throes of joy. For Breyer was losing his reserve, his hesitation. He had asked for none of this, but damned, it felt terrific! "Oh, God, kid, yeah, ride my cock, ride it like a stallion, ride it hard, ride it hard!" "Come on, Son, break this stallion!" the father chimed in. "Make him cream his load right up inside your ass, make him cream hard! Once he creams, you'll be more than half done!" Half done? Breyer didn't understand that part, but he was beyond caring, his climax was roaring in his ears and his brain and his cock, oh, God, his cock! "I'm coming, I'm coming!" he warned his young partner. "That's the way, Son." David's father approved. "Keep bobbing on him, hard as you can, now. Make him come hard! Hard as you can!" David howled and began to move fast on Breyer's body and Breyer knew that the boy was having his own small-boy climax, shuddering in joy as he moved, and Breyer released his own orgasm in the midst of that joy. "AH-AH-HAH-HAH-AH-HAH, HUH!" He groaned as he ejaculated upwards. The hot spunk boiled in David's bowels, ran heavily back down the burly shaft onto Breyer's own scrotum, bathing him in liquid heat and making him shudder with his wracking passion. David fell down on Breyer's chest, breathing hard, and his body moved up and down like a shipwrecked sailor on a raft in the ocean bobbed up and down as the waves rushed under him, so did Breyer's heavy breaths move David, still impaled upon his organ, back and forth. Done, Breyer watched as the man pulled the blanket back up over Breyer's body, leaving his son still attached to Breyer's cock through his ass as if he intended to simply keep his son and Breyer like that. And indeed, the man did depart afterwards, leaving the two in sexual connection on his bed. "David?" Breyer said when he felt sure that the man had left the entire house to them alone. "Huh?" David raised his head to look up into Breyer's eyes. "Why did your father do this to us?" "Daddy said that you had to like me." David explained. "He said that you had to like me so much you'd stay and protect me, and that since you wouldn't take money, we had to offer him something else. And I was all he had. If my sister had lived, you could have had her." "Oh, God!" Breyer breathed at that. This crazy man was so determined to protect these few worthless acres of land, he prostituted his own son to a hired gun to keep him around to fight off the army that Mr. Dawber was raising. "Now what do we do?" he asked the child after a time. David smiled. "We wait until you're ready, then we do it again. Over and over, as much as you want to, all day long." he said. "It's why I'm here." "Jesus!" "He's going to untie you when the sun goes down." the boy ended. Breyer lay there and thought about it. "You're getting hard again." David observed. "Yep." Breyer said. "I don't suppose you'd go ahead and turn me loose right now." David shook his head. "Daddy wouldn't like it." When Breyer was again hard as before, David began to move up and down on him again. Breyer lay there and let the boy do the work. Damn! He thought to himself languidly, a fellow could get used to this! When David tired, Breyer began to thrust up into the boy's ass to keep it going. At that point, his father returned and without a word, untied Breyer's bonds, then he left, leaving the big man in undenied possession of the bed and his son's body. He rolled David onto his back and plunge-fucked the boy lustily. The boy cried out, but not in pain, loving the huge dong being plowed into him over and over again. Breyer fucked the young lad time and again, and the man brought them food at midday and again in the late afternoon. When Breyer finished the platter for the evening meal, the man said, "Now you need to take David and ride with him up that way." He pointed a direction, "You'll find a small shack up there. David knows where it is. Spend the night there and come back at first light." Breyer did that, the small shack held a mattress stuffed with straw that he used to bed them both down. Worn out by his day's activities, he found his intention to fuck the boy through the night shorted out, they both slept until the next morning. Smoke in the direction of the house, too much to be explained by a stove. He rode with the boy back to the farm, to find the house and barn a burned-out ruin. The father's charred and dying body was lying nearby. The man was barely alive. Breyer knelt over him and said, "Why didn't you keep me around last night if you knew this was going to happen? I might have been able to help." "I had my reasons." the man gasped. "You'll understand when you read this!" He made a convulsive move to pull a small packet from his jacket pocket, and then slumped down, lifeless at last. Given his injuries, that was only a mercy. Breyer opened the packet and looked at it. Then he walked over to where the boy was still sitting on his horse, looking at his father's body with a sober expression. "Sorry about your father, David." he said as he mounted, sitting on the saddle in front of David. "Dad knew they were coming." David explained. "He said they wouldn't stop until they'd killed him, but if I was with you, they'd probably let me live." "Probably, yes." Breyer didn't explain further. "So what are we going to do now?" David asked as he looked at the ruins of his life. "We'll use this paper." Breyer indicated the packet. It deeded to him full and clear title to this land. No explanation for the reason for this overgenerous deed was there, nor any mention of his son. "We'll go into the town, arrange to get your father decently buried, then we'll sell this land to Mr. Dawber. Then," he hit his heels on the horse's flanks and it broke into a trot, "you'll come with me and we'll get out of this place." "I can come with you?" "Yep. For as long as you want." Breyer assured the boy, who hugged him tightly. As they rode toward town, Breyer realized that the man had indeed had his reasons for giving his son's body and virginity to Breyer as he had. Breyer would never let David go! THE END Comments, complaints or suggestions? E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM