Date: Thu, 16 Apr 2015 19:49:12 -0700 From: Jon Hold Subject: Cowboys on Roundup (Revised) Please Repost this to "Prolific Authors". Necessary and important changes have been made. Jon Cowboys on Roundup Jon Hold jonhold@Earthlink.net M/t oral anal cowboy relationships He'd been on his own since his parents died of the cholera. One way and another he'd managed to survive, but had grown up kind of wild. Most of the hands, and all of the bosses, from the foreman right up to the big boss himself, figured the boy wasn't long for the world. He was going to get stupid around the wrong person and be dead. None-the-less, everyone liked him. He was a hard and willing worker who had an infectious eagerness in everything he did. The kid showed up on the doorstep of the main house just a few days before roundup was to start. He said he was 18 and good hands were always welcome at roundup time. He accepted the fifteen dollars a month and found that he was offered and told to get set up in the bunkhouse and then to look up Craig, the foreman. Right from the beginning there was something between the foreman and his new hand. Craig was more than twice the kids age and a beefy, even stocky looking next to the whippet-lean kid. The new hand seemed to always be within easy calling distance of Craig, and eager as a puppy to do the older man's bidding. It got to the point where the other hands were, in a teasing way, giving Craig a hard time about "the new puppy dog" he was training. Or about his personal servant, or any number of other things they could think up to give the boss a hard time. The kid took it all in good grace and just quietly went about his work, part of which he considered being available any time Craig needed anything. The big cattle push was a maze of dust and dirt and lowing cattle, runaway calves, brush-wise cows and belligerent bulls. By the time the main part of the branding, castrating and dehorning were done everyone had seen, smelled, tasted, and been walked on by about all the cattle they could handle. Most of the hands were paid and told to be back in three weeks time for the cattle drive to Kansas City. Only a few hands were asked to stick around to help find and deal with the last of the stragglers. Craig wasn't really surprised when the kid ended up being one of those that stayed the distance. By then it just seemed natural for the kid to be waiting down by the barn with both horses ready to go when Craig came out of the cookhouse. Craig assigned everyone into teams of two and sent the teams to different parts of the open range to find any stray stock, brand it and herd it back to the main corrals. Everyone took it for granted when the last two men to be assigned were Craig and the kid and that they just naturally made a pair. They didn't see much the first day and they camped out near a small spring that supplied just enough water for a pot of coffee and a little quick clean-up. The kid came up with a pretty good meal with the fixin's he'd caged off of Cookie. After eating his fill Craig leaned back against his saddle and let out a loud and satisfied belch. "That was pretty good, Kid. You can cook for me anytime." The younger man just smiled bashfully and continued to clean the dinner dishes. The quiet and peacefulness joined with the crackling of the fire and the clear spread of starlit sky and both cowboys slept the peace of the honest worker. Early the next morning they got to the roughly gullied scrubland they were supposed to search. Craig had held back the worst part of the pasture range for himself. The kid never said a word about how hard the day was. He just kept plugging and earned his pay. That night they settled down next to the remains of an old log cabin where there was good feed and a nice stream for the stock to water at. Both cowboys were tired from a hard day, but excited with accomplishment as well. They had gathered over forty stray cows with their calves and were pretty proud of themselves. After dinner Craig said, "Come on, Boy," and led the way to the rock bound pond that fed the stream below. A small waterfall at each end let the water in and out of the pond. The days heat was still radiating from the rocks and the water was still sun warmed. Pulling his boots off on a flat rock, Craig jumped into the deep pond, clothes and all. The kid was feeling pretty frisky and quickly followed the older man into the water. They both removed their clothes one piece at a time and scrubbed them on the rocks with the bar soap Craig had brought along. Soon the rocks were colorfully garnished with bits and pieces of cowboy clothing. Dark denim and brightly colored shirts with worn-out stockings lending grace notes. There was a conspicuous absence of underclothing. Both could swim and they thoroughly enjoyed themselves in various mock battles. The kid was strong and fast while Craig was slower, but very, very powerful. All in all, they were pretty evenly matched. Finally calling a truce, Craig led the way to shallow water and the bar of homemade soap. Older man signaled younger to turn around and then used the soap to wash the kid down very much as if he were a prize colt. Gently talking all the time like he would to calm a colt, Craig talked to the kid about how he could get along with the other hands better and how to handle himself in different circumstances. The kid listened attentively, and enjoyed being handled and petted just as much as a house cat would. He responded to Craig's slightest direction, even to the point of quickly spreading his legs so Craig could finish washing his ass and up between his legs. Reaching between the kids legs with his soapy hand, Craig washed the boys balls just like he would a colts, and just like a colt, the kid spread his legs further and backed into the man giving him so much pleasure. Craig laughed and swatted the boys butt before turning him around. Craig had the boy duck under the water and helped him rinse off. Craig gave the kid's frontside a good washing. When he peeled back the kids foreskin and started washing the head of the boys dick the kid threw his arms around the older stud, buried his face in the mans well-muscled shoulder and almost immediately started shooting his spooge all over himself, Craig and Craig's hand. Craig just held the boy to keep him from falling while he milked the last of the kids load. Cowboys sometimes helped each other but the kid had always bathed alone and shyly hid his body from the other cowboys. The kid sure didn't have a problem with Craig though. His cock was as slim as he was, but a good solid six inches long. Young as he was he never lost his hardon, no matter how hard his orgasm shook him. Once he'd recovered enough so he could trust his legs to hold him up, the kid picked up the bar of soap and started to return the favor to the older cowboy. Taking his time he washed and carefully inspected every square inch of the man's powerful body. When he worked his way back up the thickly haired legs, Craig bent over and, supporting himself with his hands on a big rock, spread his legs wide, opening him self completely to the boy. The kids fingers just about fell into Craig's soft hole. Stroking the mans soapy back to calm him, the kid soon had three fingers working the puffy hole over but good as his cock lurched and dripped slime in a steady stream. Craig backed up some, panting with lust he ordered, "That's it boy! Now get your cock in there and work that hole over good. You need to crack a nut or you're going to explode." The kid was so horny he didn't even hesitate. He jumped on the Foreman's back and sunk his dick all the way home in one move. Craig moaned and the kid started fucking him like a dog gone crazy. Thirty seconds later it was all over and the kid was laying on Craig's back trying to catch his breath. "Come on, Kid," Craig said as he stood up, sliding the younger cowboy off his back and out of his ass. "Let's get you out of this water and maybe teach you a thing or two about fucking." The cowboy obediently followed his Foreman out of the water. Leaving their clothes to dry on the rocks, both cowboys slipped their boots on and headed back to the campfire. Craig spread his sleeping roll out over his groundcloth and saddle. Motioning the kid over he pushed him down on his knees on the sleeping roll. Kneeling on one knee behind the boy, Craig felt up the body he'd just had his hands all over while washing the youth. Hard body with only a little hair. Good stiff poker and a tight bag full of horny nuts. Craig pushed the younger cowboy down on his belly across his saddle which propped the boys ass up into receiving mode. Rubbing the boys back to calm him, Craig felt up the kids ass. Hard. Tight. Too tight. "You a virgin boy?" Blushing bright red, the kid admitted, "I been raped once, Sir, when I was ten. But ain't nobody fucked me proper, Sir." Rubbing a finger carefully across the boys clenched butthole, Craig asked, "Can I, Boy? Would you like it if I fucked you?" Blushing even redder, whether in embarrassment or lust neither cowboy could have told you, the kid admitted, "Yes, Sir. I'd be right proud if you'd teach me how to fuck proper like." Rubbing the kid's lower back and butt, the husky voiced Craig purred, "Well, the first thing you got to do, man, boy or woman, is get 'em so's they really want what only a man can give them." The kid just about jumped off the ground when Craig spread his cheeks with both hands and swiped from his tight balls up past his asshole with his broad, burning hot tongue. It wasn't long before the kid was hunching the saddle and begging Craig to fuck him. Craig just kept working the boy's hole with tongue and fingers until he was wide open and begging for cock with every fiber of his being. Only then did Craig climb up onto the boys back and put his cockhead to the boy's hot and twitching hole. Pushing in the barest amount, Craig asked, "Who's your Daddy, boy? Who's y'r Daddy?" The kid mumbled something inaudible and Craig pulled back until the heat of his rod was just barely touching the boys hole. "Who's yer Daddy, Son?" "You are, Sir. You're my daddy, Sir." the kid pled, trying to lift his ass and regain the cock that had him so hot. Craig pushed just part of his thick cockhead into the boy and then pulled it right back out so that it just barely touched the whimpering boy. "Who's yer Daddy, Boy?" The kid knew that the Foreman's dick was much bigger than his. A fat, darkly blood engorged mantool with big heavy balls and a fat cockhead. He knew it would hurt going into him. He didn't care. He wanted this man and the security he offered. "YOU ARE, DADDY! YOU'RE MY DADDY, YOU'RE MY DADDY! FUCK ME, DADDY!" Craig punched the head of his cock all the way inside of the now lust-crazed boy, demanding, "WHO'S YOUR DADDY?" The kid went rigid, his legs quivering right out to the sides as the pain lanced through his body. "YOU ARE, DADDY! YOU'RE MY DADDY!" The sex driven man gloated in his mastery of this boy while realizing that he really did care about the kid. He really wanted this kid to be his. Craig had never been married. Never had a stable place until the old man had made him Foreman. Now he was stable though. And he realized that this is what he'd been missing. A family. A son of his own to care for and teach and to help raise. "WHO'S YOUR DADDY, SON?" He demanded as he drove another inch of throbbing dark-purple man meat into the boys hot gut. "YOU'RE MY DADDY, CRAIG. YOU'RE MY DADDY AND I'M YOUR SON AS LONG AS YOU'LL HAVE ME. FUCK ME, DADDY! FUCK MY ASS, DADDY! I NEED YOU TO FUCK ME! I NEED YOU, DADDY!" There was no more pain. None at all. Just a wonderful feeling of being wanted and needed and of being loved. The lonely boy's heart cried out for a man to guide him and he prayed that it wasn't just lust making Craig demand to be his Daddy. Eight times. Eight inches. Eight demands for affirmation. Eight admissions of need. Eight steps to begin the bonding of father and son. Craig talked to his new lover. His son. The son he realized that he'd always wanted. That this self-reliant young man wanted, even needed him as a father amazed Craig and filled him with pride. Filled him with love for the son he thought he'd never have. He fucked... No, He made LOVE to his son, cementing their relationship and bonding them as father and son for life. He came several times that night, but he never withdrew his cock from his son. They talked and they made love. They shared the simplest things about themselves, and the most hidden, darkest secrets. The kid admitted always wanting a father. One who would admonish him and punish him when and if necessary. One who would love him for who he was and what he was. Craig was ---- obviously, patently, assuredly that man. Four more days it took to clear their section of range of strays. Mostly quiet during the day. Taking a second here and there to touch, to kiss or just smile at each other. The nights were a wonderland of getting to know and trust each other. Loving each other and being with each other. They each slipped easily, comfortably into their Father/Son roles. Several times the kid's wildness pissed Craig off. Instead of cursing the boy now he'd pull the boys pants down and put him across his knee. The kid was always much chastised after a spanking, but never fought getting punished and always said, "Thank you, Daddy. I'm sorry." When the spanking was over. Craig would then kiss him on the forehead and pull the kids pants up and fasten them for him just as if he were a little boy. The night of his first spanking the love making was particularly sweet. Both wanting to prove their love to each other. Both proving their love and loving it. Craig helped the kid move his stuff from the bunkhouse to his little house. They didn't bother even thinking about a second bed. The old one that was there was plenty big enough for them both --- and they proved it that night! The next day was the last day before the cattle drive to the north started and the boss told all the hands to head for town and get it out of their systems because it was going to be three or four months on the trail with no booze and no women. Craig went along to get everyone back in time for the start of the drive but the kid could read and write so the big boss ask him to stay and help him with some bookwork. The cowboys returned earlier than the boss expected, making a lot of noise and raising hell. They were angry and hot headed. The boss wanted to know what was going on. He finally got them all shut up and had one of the older hands try and tell him the story. Seems as if one of the cowboys had gotten a little rowdy and the Sheriff went to arrest him. Craig, as Foreman, tried to calm things down and get the Sheriff to let him take the cowboy home but the Sheriff wasn't having any guff off of "a bunch of fucked up cowboys!" To prove his point, the Sheriff shot Craig and killed him. The kid turned white and staggered, almost falling off his feet. The boss had seen something special between this lonely cowboy and his foreman and tried to stop the kid and talk to him but the kid just brushed him off and silently walked into Craig's house. He came out a little later wearing a fringed, fawn-colored buckskin outfit and a pair of Colt Navy pistols in tooled and silver mounted holsters. The Colt Navy pistol was the most powerful and accurate handgun of its time. But every cowboy there knew that wouldn't help this youngster against the hard-core town sheriff. The boss and the other hands followed the kid down to barn and tried to dissuade him from going to town. The kid listened politely and went right on saddling his horse. When he mounted the Boss blew up and yelled at him, "Okay, go ahead and be a God-blamed fool! But tell us your proper name so's we don't have to put 'The Kid' on your tombstone." Before turning and galloping off to town, the kid quietly said, "The name my Mama gave me was 'William H. Bonney'. You can put that on my gravestone... if you need to!" THE Beginning of the legend. Where: Beau: WIP:Cowboys on Roundup Created: Thu, Feb 28, 2002 10:17:50 AM Size: 24782 bytes Modified: Thu, Feb 28, 2002 02:11:51 PM Formatting characters: 3025 Characters: 12894 Words: 2979 Avg Word Length: 4 Punctuation: 456 Sentences: 201 Avg Words/Sentence: 14 Max Words/Sentence: 52 Lines: 274 Paragraphs: 46 Pages: 7 Flesch Reading Ease: 81 Reading Grade Level: 7 A veteran is someone who, at one point in their life, wrote a blank check made payable to The United States of America for any amount, up to and including their life.