Date: Sun, 17 Mar 2002 03:53:07 EST
From: FlagStache@aol.com
Subject: Cowboy Tail (Part 2)

Copyright 2002

No copies of this document may be made without the expressed permission of
the author. Submit comments to FlagStache@aol.com

Warning: This story contains homo-erotic content! If this is objectionable
to you or the state laws in which you abide, read no further!


Cowboy Tail (Part 2) by Flagstache@aol.com


It was High Noon when Smokey rode into the little town of Hellbend, mounted
on his faithful mare Rosebud. Wearing his "wide rimmed dented hightop" with
a concho leather band and horse hair tassels, tilted slightly back upon his
graying head. Cloaked in a dirt-caked black duster with a white, sweat
stained, kerchief tied about his thick, ruddy, unshaven neck along with his
usual attire, a thin brown suede vest worn over a thread bare woolen shirt
unbuttoned just enough to reveal his massively haired chest and tucked
inside denims which hugged his strong legs and cupped his ample crotch; the
cuffs tucked loosely inside of his spurred work beaten calf highs that
dangled in the stirrups.

Smokey had come thus far to purchase Winter supplies before continuing his
travels farther north where he lived in a small tidy log cabin situated
high in the northern mountain basin. This would be another two day trek
from Hellbend. Once all the needed supplies: coffee, bacon, flour, a new
axe handle,etc., were purchased, he would tie them onto a handcrafted
travois carefully secured to the saddle on Rosebud and begin his journey
homeward.

Smokey noticed various pedestrians milling about the township and a couple
of barefoot boys suddenly ran acrossed the street in front of him, giggling
and laughing as they went; he gently pulled in the reins, whoa-ing ol'
Rosie's progress down to a gentle trot. The sound of piano music arose from
the swinging doors of the town saloon and the thought of a hot bath, a good
meal and a room for the night with a warm masculine body to share the
sheets with, made him groan inwardly.

"Mangum's Mercantile And General Store" was located just at the end of the
narrow dusty street and was clearly identified by a large sign painted
above the entrance way in large scrolled red letters. The paint had peeled
off of the "G" in such a way that it now read "Mancum's" for all the world
to see! Smokey's worldly nature was not lost on this misnomer and he
grinned wickedly, his pearly whites gleaming and contrasting sharply with
his grizzled tanned face over the prospects of this quaint little town.

He rode up to the store front and dismounted Rosebud and wrapped the reins
to the hitching post where Rosebud eagerly began drinking from the water
trough, "Whoa girl, drink slowly," Smokey told her and patted her lovingly
on the head. The day had warmed some and he removed his duster then turning
towards the entrance, Smokey walked with a tall bowlegged swagger, his
spurs jingling and upon opening the door to the establishment, a cowbell
rang out his presence. Reaching behind himself quickly, he tugged at the
seam in the seat of his denims being that it was caught in the crack of his
tight sweaty ass, he was certainly looking forward to a nice hot bath when
he was through making his purchases! As his eyes grew used to the dim
interior, Smokey noticed a coat rack and he hung his duster there.

The owner, Roger Mangum, was a broad shouldered, tall, athletic bear of a
man in his late thirties with oiled, slicked back black hair which he kept
parted in the middle. On his upper lip flourished an enormous black
"handlebar" moustache, curled on the ends and kept just so with frequent
applications of "moustache-wax." Mangum was squatting behind one of the
pickle barrels, involved in the daily chore of restocking some of the
shelves. The muscular curve of his stocky thighs nearly threatening to rip
the cloth of his brown cotton trousers. Hearing the clang of the cowbell,
Mangum lifted his head up and spied the tall, lanky stranger entering his
establishment and with his spurs a-jinglin. He made a quick appraisal of
the long mouth watering bulge that traveled down the inside of Smokey's
left pant leg and licked his lips. Before his attention could be detected
by this stranger, Mangum ducked down and returned to his task at hand. Even
so, he could not deny himself the pleasure of taking quick sideways glances
in order to admire the tight narrow buns on the tall bearded customer who's
back was now turned towards him and who was lifting a bag of ground coffee
off from the shelf on the opposite wall.

"Rog" as his regular customers called him (nobody ever called him Roger
except his wife), scratched at his deeply cleft and stubbly chin and
allowed himself a moment of self reflection. He was well aware of the fact
that people in this town respected him as a sparkling example of the
successful "family man;" the father of two teenaged sons, married to a
beautiful wife and active in the community church. Nobody thought for a
moment that he was or ever could be queer for other men. It would be the
scandal of the year if not the whole damn century! Even so, he couldn't
deny his feelings and ardent desires and he found himself fantasizing about
kneeling down behind the lanky bearded stranger and gripping his hips in
his large meaty hands and pressing his moustached face into the deep fold
of denim trapped between Smokey's masculine buttocks, breathe in the sharp
heady aroma of the man's saddle worn ass and chew on the cloth there,
pulling it out of the strangers twitching buttcrack with his teeth. He knew
the risks involved but when he found himself wanting this man as much as he
did and like so many other encounters with similar men, he decided to take
the plunge to satisfy his lustful hungers and his brain swam with the
various tactics and scenarios which might allow him to get "closer" to this
mean looking hombre, definitely his type. But if only Mangum knew what a
waste of time all this planning was and how agreeable and responsive Smokey
Joe would be to such an overt sexual advance. Even so, the game had begun!

End Part II