Date: Sat, 30 Oct 2010 05:02:26 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Hardwood

Hardwood, Montana

I am not the hardy western cowboy type, but I had to get away from
Philadelphia, and it would be best if I went somewhere without laws or the
usual trappings of civilization. I was accused of sodomizing a boy. It was
entirely untrue. The boy was one of my students, a notably poor student. He
made the accusations in revenge for a poor grade. The boy was a liar and a
cheat, but he was the only son of a wealthy merchant. He was the heir and
his Father saw him as a perfect child.

There was no arrest or trial.  The accusation was more than enough to ruin
my life and force me to leave my home. That would spare my family from the
embarrassment. While the accusation that I molested a boy was false and
deceitful, the accusation that I wanted to have sex with other men was
entirely correct. I must emphasize I enjoyed the company of men, not boys.

I was fully aware there were men who enjoyed boys, but I had no taste for
immature persons. My father, Reverend Horace Greenmont, was a distinguished
Presbyterian Preacher. While his sermons were brilliant and delivered with
great enthusiasm, personally he was cold and aloof. He was never unkind, or
mean; he was simply more like a distant uncle than a father. I had the
misfortune of being the second son, Ovid. I was obedient, polite and did
well in school.  My older brother and two sisters were wild, disrespectful
and difficult.  I got no attention.

 I went to college, fought with distinction in the Civil War, and have some
scars to prove it.  I joined the army in 1862 and served in the 12th
Pennsylvania.  My commanding officer was Col. George Winfield Meredith, the
best officer a soldier could hope for.  I soon became his right hand man,
taking care of his correspondence and the menial office chores that afflict
a modern officer. I handled many of the personnel problems, getting men
furloughs to go home, sick leave and similar chores.

I was wounded at Gettysburg and again near Richmond. I was lucky and while
the wounds were painful, they didn't leave me crippled. Major Williams,
Col. Meredith's second in command and I were close. During a visit to
Washington, we shared a bed and discovered we shared a similar passion. I
was a complete innocent at the time; he was somewhat less so. I was shocked
and deeply confused until his cock penetrated my ass and made contact with
what he called the nut.

I had no idea I could feel so much pleasure. I did not know such feeling
could exist and even les that they could come from such an unlikely area,
all my shock and confusion vanished in an avalanche of sensation.

Major Williams was equally surprised. He had gone to a boarding school
where the younger boys were "initiated" into the school by older boys. I
don't know if it was because I was older or more willing, but he was taken
aback by his own enjoyment. He had thought such activities were better than
nothing was.  He discovered they were vastly better than nothing.

A month later Major Williams told me Col. Meredith was going to Washington
and asked if I would like to accompany him. He told me that he and the
Colonel shared some enjoyable times on their last trip.  I knew what he
meant and I agreed. I admired the Colonel greatly, with something
approaching hero worship.

Col Meredith was an impressive man standing well over six feet and with a
muscular body. I am almost six feet tall myself and usually am the tallest
man in the room. I would also say the Colonel is very much a manly man.

While the Colonel had been to the University of Pennsylvania and was a
Classical scholar, he was built like a laborer, perhaps a mason of
lumberjack. We stayed in a small cottage to the rear of a large house. It
was mid-summer and it was hot.  After eating at an inn, we went to the
cottage and stripped for bed.

Nude, the Colonel was a magnificent specimen of manliness. He almost looked
like a Classical sculpture of Hercules. His manhood was huge; almost double
the size of Major Wilson's organ. I just stared at it. I must have looked
shocked.

"Will it fit?" I murmured.

Col. Meredith smiled. "Major Williams thinks you will do fine."

Major Williams was right.  The Colonel took his time and twenty minutes
later he filled me with his cock and all was well. Every inch of his organ
was in me. The large organ in my ass seemed to enhance my own pleasure. As
with Major Williams, the Colonel loved it, if repeated penetrations are any
guide. When I woke the next morning, I was erect and the Colonel sat on my
cock. I wasn't sure that was right, but he told me he would ride me until
he was royally plowed and seeded.

I was afraid I wouldn't be able to climax in his ass, but my cock seemed to
enjoy it. The colonel loved it. My ejaculations were very forceful and he
could feel it in his rectum. That was a new sensation for him. I was afraid
the colonel would lose his respect for me when he discovered my secret
passion. I confessed my worries to him.  He smiled. "I share the same
passions. It was a great relieved to find someone so manly to share it
with. It is a joy and a relief." I felt the same; I was honored to please
such a man.

For the rest of the war years, Col. Meredith and Major Williams visited me
and we enjoyed ourselves. It was never so regular as to cause comment, but
each visit was good. Several times, they introduced me to a friend of
similar preferences. Meredith and Williams moved in elevated circles and
these interludes were pleasurable.

I soon came to understand there was a broad range of sexual interests and
pleasures. Several men were quite adventurous and I enjoyed the
visits. Since my parents raised me in a most conventional way, I had no
foreknowledge of any of these activities. My cock had been a purely
utilitarian organ for me. Williams seemed to regard it as an instrument of
pleasure, and I admit I began to see it that way,

After the War, I started to teach in a private school in Philadelphia. It
was a thriving and bustling city, quite worldly compared to the rest of the
nation. As a teacher with a modest salary, I couldn't participate in
everything the city offered. Fortunately, Major Williams lived in the city
and we continued to meet. He discovered a new facility near the newly built
Union League Club. It was Philadelphia's first Turkish bath, the Alhambra
Baths for Men. The baths were newly imported to the United States.  For a
small fee, I could get in, especially on the weekends when they cut the fee
in half.  I went to the baths once or twice a week and found men of similar
interests sharing the steam. It was gas lighted, but quite dim at night.

When the steam was thick and the light dim, I could let my towel slip and
see if anyone was interested.  A man might glance and notice me. Some would
sit next to me and talk.  I would let the towel slip a little more. One or
two men would leave, but most of the time the man next to me would let his
towel get lose and let me see his privates.  Eventually I found friends.

You could look and fondle the cock and balls easily in the misty
interior. I had been use to fucking, but oral pleasures were easier in the
baths.  Since the Alhambra had shower baths in addition to the stream
baths, the genitals were always clean. It was easy to lean over and kiss a
cock. I always flicked my tongue over the slit to see if any sex juices had
emerged.  Once and a while, the mere touch of my tongue on the tender gland
resulted in an orgasm. This left my partner embarrassed.  They would leave,
but inevitably, they would return the next weekend.

The attendants had Arab names wore towels and a turban.  The Saturday night
attendant was Ali Baba.  He was a hairy, beefy man. I think he was from
Italy. He was open-minded as long as activity was discrete and clean he was
tolerant.  The towels were washed every day but he didn't like slippery
areas on the marble and tile floors. Ali Baba was a masseur and he normally
wasn't in the steam bath itself. He checked out the baths periodically, but
he was a loud and cheerful man and you always had time to cover up.

Only once Major Williams and his companion shielded me as a friend of
theirs fucked me.  I loved it but the men in the bather were too skittish
to do it again. One of the onlookers was an artist named Philip Hawkins who
had a house several blocks away. He knew I was comfortable with a man's
member in my ass. Philip told me he didn't like to bottom.

"I sometimes find a friendly man who is willing to come home with me," he
said, "If you would like to accompany us perhaps you could be there if the
need arises."  I wasn't sure, but agreed to come with him try it out.
Every month or so we would meet at the baths and then go home with him and
a friend. Philip and I shared common tastes and these interludes were at
the very least pleasant and sometimes much more than that. I met some
enjoyable men with Philip.

It was Philip Hawkins told me about Hardwood. It was a small all male
mining community and was well off the beaten track in Montana.  A man named
Jonathan Beaumont founded the town.  Mr. Beaumont was a friend of
Col. Meredith.

My trip to Hardwood started on modern railroads and ended on an elderly
horse with the traveling conditions deteriorating as I approach Harwood.
There was a gatehouse at the main entrance.  I asked if I could meet
Mr. Beaumont.  My name as on a list but a cowboy accompanied me on the road
to the house. The cowboy went by the name of Slim and did not speak. At one
point I was afraid he was congenitally mute, but he did eventually
speak. It was half a day's ride to Hardwood itself, and I was late, so we
stopped at a cabin and spent the night.  The cabin was crude but sat next
to a small, quite beautiful stream.

Slim got in the cabin, stripped naked and went to the stream to swim and
bathe.  This reminded me of my war days. Half the regiment would jump in a
river to clean up and be like boys skinny-dipping in the watering
hole. Sometimes there would be twenty or thirty of us.  I joined Slim. I
was caked in dust. The water was cool, but not cold. I had a chance to
examine my traveling companion. Slim's face was weather beaten, but I saw
his entire body was brown. I thought he might be foreign, but realized he
was blond.  He must have spent time in the sun naked.  I was a bit shocked
and excited at the thought.

"You've got a nice one," he said.  Slim noticed me too. He was staring
directly at my cock. "I bet it's a beauty hard." After saying hardly a word
for two hours, he commented on my cock. I looked him in the eye.  He was
smiling.  The stream had worked wonders on him, cleaned of the dust and
dirt of the trail he was a handsome man.  He was thin and muscular. A thick
layer of blond hair covered his tanned body.  His cock was slightly erect.

"I must confess my member serves me well," I replied. "It's utilitarian and
enjoyable on occasion."

"When was the last time you drained it?" Slim asked.

"An hour or two ago," I replied.

"I mean the balls, not the bladder," he said. My member had firmed up
some. I knew form my experience in the baths this increased my
attractiveness. He cupped my balls in his hands.  It was as if he was
weighing them and assessing their value. He dropped to his knees and sucked
me. Slim was more than skilled in that art, and no novice.

He licked his finger and then played with my hole as he sucked me. The
Major and the Colonel had trained me to take a cock, but in the baths, a
discreet finger was the best alternative. Slim knew the anatomy of a man's
ass.

We traded places. Slim's cock was thin, long, and crowned with a big,
mushroom head. His balls were modest.

"I have two weeks supply in my balls.  I know they don't look like much,
but I shoot a big one," Slim said. "Do you have a tight ass?"

Slim was direct.

"Sorry mister, I was jumping to conclusions," he added. "The men tell me I
have an easy cock to take. It slips in real easy and then does the trick. I
drip a lot; once I'm in you I'm pretty much self-lubricating."

"Is your hole tight?" I asked, turning the table on him.

"I hate to say it but I'm really tight," Slim replied, "You'd be a good
mid-night fuck."

"What is a midnight fuck?" I asked.

"You know, after you've been having some fun and a few men have dumped
their loads in you, I get real open and willing," he explained.

"Does this happen often?"

Slim laughed. "It happens enough."

I returned to sucking him. His spit-coated organ was an easy fit and his
produced as advertized. I could feel the large knob, but not the cock
shaft.  I enjoyed the sensation. He did shoot a good load and very
forcefully. I felt the force of the sperm as Slim pumped it into my
ass. This was the sensation the Colonel enjoyed as I bathed his rectum with
my seed. I now understood the attraction.

Most men will talk about anything other than sex. Slim would talk about sex
and nothing else. It alone seemed to stimulate his conversational
abilities.

The next morning we set off for Hardwood. Two hours later, it came into
view.  Harwood was not a town in a tradition sense.  It was a huge ranch,
entirely owned by Mr. Beaumont. He lived in a large house near the center
of the property. Barns, stables, bunkhouses, cottages and other building
made the house look like a small village.

Slim took me to meet Mr. Beaumont, but he wasn't home. I met his secretary
Mr. Graves. Mr. Graves was a dour and pale young man with feminine
characteristics.  He greeted me warmly and said Mr. Beaumont had position
for me, but he probably wouldn't be able to meet with me until the next
morning.  Mr. Graves rang a bell and a heavily bearded older man entered
the room.  "Mr. Greenmont, this is Scout. He will take you to your room and
show you around," Mr. Graves said as he dismissed me.


"Come along," Scout said. "I'll take you to your room." We left the house
and went to a two story, wood building next door.  "This is the
guesthouse. You can stay here until you get situated. It's more of a hotel
than a guesthouse.  The food is good."  Half of the first floor was a
dining room with a kitchen.  My room was on the second floor, facing south.

Scout was rolley polley and talked nonstop. A bunkhouse flanked the
guesthouse on each side forming a courtyard. A tall fence enclosed the
other side. The courtyard was a garden, partially vegetables but with some
flowers.  In the middle was a square building with smoke rising to a cupola
in the middle.

"What is that building that's smoking?" I asked.

"That ain't smoke; it's steam. It's the bathhouse and sits over a hot
spring. That is might handy in the winter. We can heat some of the
buildings with it," Scout said.

Several men were walking in the garden or going to the bathhouse. One wore
a towel, but most were naked. It was an all male camp and there was no need
to be modest.

"If you want to clean up, I can take you there," Scout asked. I had bathed
the night before with Slim, but another bath would be good. I said I would.

"Just get naked and we'll walk over," Scout said. "There are towels there."
I must have looked uneasy. "Don't worry about people seeing your private
parts. We all have them. Just think of it as skinny dipping."

It was odd, but oddly exciting to walk out doors naked. I felt vaguely like
a little boy who was being bad. The bath itself was pleasant. There was a
shower bath in the middle of the room and benches around it. I reminded me
of the Alhambra Baths I enjoyed in Philadelphia, but without the ornamental
tiles. I showered and then sat on the bench.

There was one obvious difference from the Alhambra, here the men sat on
their towels, and they didn't cover themselves with them.

It was a big space, with a number of men there.  A short, very muscular
Chinese man seemed to run the place. Mr. Dee had two helpers who collected
towels and washed them. Mr. Dee walked up to me. "Big rule!  No spitting on
floor! None! Never!  No spitting!" I nodded in ascent.  He was happy.
"Little rule!  No spill man milk!"  I must have looked puzzled. "Eat man
milk." I understood and Mr. Dee left.

"If you get caught in a pinch one of Dee's boys will suck it up for you.
It costs a dime," Scout told me.  Behind us were two men having a
conversation in Swedish. As I sat on the bench, a scrawny red haired man
came up to me.

"Where did you get the souvenir?" he asked looking at the scar on my
leg. He had a pronounced Southern accent.

"I got it in a small town in Pennsylvania," I said. "Gettysburg."

"I got mine in the same place," he said. He shifted his position and I saw
he had a massive scar on his right leg.

"What day?" I asked

"July 3rd," he replied. "I'm Willy Smithers, lately of the 12th North
Carolina Volunteers."

"Well, if we did meet in that field, I'd like to thank you for your bad
aim," I said.  He looked at me and then got the joke.

"I sure wasn't aiming to miss, but if it was me, I guess it's all for the
best," he replied.

"I'm Ovid Greenmont," I said as I rose and we shook hands. We both sat down
together and talked. "It looks like you almost lost your leg?"

"I got lucky. I passed out in the barn of a Quaker Farmer. They wouldn't
let the Feds take me. I wanted to die it hurt so badly. I was willing to
let the devil take me for all my sins, but the damned Quakers wouldn't let
that happen either."

"Well at least they saved the good part," I said as I stared at his cock.
Willy was scrawny and straggly from head to toe, but he had a cock that
would have been a prized exhibit at the Centennial Exhibition, if they had
any cocks on display.

"It's a beauty ain't it," Willy said.  "I got it from my
Granddaddy. Someone screwed a donkey and we got the donkey good looks and
the donkey dong." On the other side of that bath, I saw a man nursing a
friend's cock.  "It looks like yours is on the high side of standard
issue," Willy remarked. I leaned over and took a quick taste. Willy had
some extra foreskin; I got my tongue in the pucker and found his man juices
were flowing.

"You know Mr. Dee's rules, if you start something you need to finish it,"
Willy said, "Nothing gets spilled on the floor. By the way, my home brew is
good to the last drop."

I suggested we go to my room.  Willy liked that. Scout went off and we
returned to my room. Willy was soon fully erect.  His cock was lovely. I
could only get a portion in my mouth, mostly the knob. It twitched and
oozed precum.  Alone in the room he was more responsive and
enthusiastic. He lost all pretense of reserve as he shot off.  His home
brew was a treat, rich creamy and plentiful. We talked afterward. We shared
much the same experiences although we did not serve on the same side.

Willy was a horn dog and was erect twenty minutes later. I oiled him up and
tried to sit on it. I didn't think I could do it, but his monster curved
and was a perfect fit. Willy looked as if he would pass out it was so
good. For the next ten or twenty minutes I did what might be described as a
dance on his pole. It wasn't the most graceful dance, but it was
pleasurable.

The doors had no locks so two men came in to watch.  "Damn Willy, you can
pick them," a short bearded man said. He dropped his trousers and gave
Willy something to suck on.

"You got it all," the other man said. "You must be one hell of a good
sport." Willy began to shoot as he talked. I got off Willy's meat but was
dizzy. The other man helped steady me.

"You're new here?" he asked.

"I just got in. I'm Ovid Greenmont." I replied.

"Barton Wells is my name, but they call me the Bishop," he said.


"I am afraid I don't look my best," I said. At that moment, I began to
climax.  The Bishop bent over and took my load with obvious enjoyment.


"Let me disagree with you on that," he said after I finished ejaculation.
"I think men often look their best when they are experiencing intense
physical pleasure.  I was thinking about a visit to the bath before
dinner. Would you like to join me?"

I said yes and we cleaned up. A bell rang and we went to the dining
room. The Bishop and Willy were popular men and introduced me to many of
the men in the room. They seemed like a hearty group. Dinner was simple but
good and I learned much about Hardwood.

The mines themselves were several miles away. Hardwood was the center of a
large working ranch.  Both the ranch and the mines were Mr. Beauchamp's
property. While we were out of range of conventional law enforcement,
Mr. Beauchamp had enough wealth and security men to ensure a peaceful
place. He was also safe form Indian as well as bandits.  He had a personal
treaty with a local tribe, and kept his treaty obligations, unlike our
government in Washington.

Beauchamp wasn't tolerant of banditry.  Life was wild and somewhat unruly,
but not dangerous.  That was good for everyone and rare enough in the west
at that time.

After dinner, we went to the porch of the guesthouse and talked. I mostly
listened and had an odd sensation I was in camp with my regiment again. It
was the way men talk when they are away from home and in the company of men
who are in much the same situation.  Some men were jokers and
storytellers. There were some complainers, and some were silent listeners.
I went to bed early and slept like a log.

Hardwood woke early. By dawn, the day had already begun for many men. When
I got to the dining room, I was the second or third shift of men. The
Bishop motioned for me to come over to his table.  He was with two men, Doc
Watson and Horst Weingarten.  Doc was an actual doctor who had a surgery at
the Mining camp. Horst was a mining engineer from Berlin. Watson was a Scot
and Horst was very German and it was hard to understand the accents.

Mr. Graves, the secretary came over and asked if I could meet with
Mr. Beauchamp at 10:00, if it were convenient for me.  I said it was
fine. I got to his office a few minutes early and immediately met him. He
was a very energetic, somewhat stocky man. Many years later, I had the
honor of meeting President Teddy Roosevelt.  Mr. Beauchamp was much like
the President.


"As you have no doubt noticed, Harwood has attracted a wide range of me
from greatly varied stations in life.  I have many employees who are
illiterate. I was hoping to find a man who was willing to work with these
men. While some of our work is simple backbreaking labor, other aspects are
quite sophisticated.  I would like more men to be able to take on these
more complicated tasks. Would you be willing to do this?" he asked.

"Certainly," I replied. "I have only taught younger men, but I have no
problem working with adults.  The biggest problem with adults is dealing
with their embarrassment. Many don't want anyone to know they can't read."

"You can deal with that?" he asked.

"Yes. I was the company clear and wrote letters for many of them men.  I
was able to get them to read and write some," I explained.  "Many of them
never went to school.  They were working for a living at age ten. Being
able to write their name is a great help. That seems to encourage them to
move ahead."

"That seems curious?" Mr. Beauchamp observed.

"When you can sign you name rather than make your mark, you don't get as
embarrassed," I explained. "I then move on words that are useful, such as
danger, or explosives. If you then do names of cities, railroads, shops,
saloons and similar things, they get most of the alphabet quite easily. I
taught ciphering the same way. Understanding how much gunpowder to put in
cannon and not have it blow up can be a useful bit of information."

Mr. Beauchamp laughed. "I take it you don't do Shakespeare as a textbook."

"Some bible reading is good, and a little Shakespeare isn't bad.  "To be or
not to be," is easy reading," I said.

"I see everything Colonel Meredith said about you was true," he was most
complimentary.  The Bishop said you got along with Willy.  Willy has been a
difficult man.  The wounds did more that damage his body."

"We were wounded in the same battle.  We were on the opposite sides," I
said. "If the bullet was an inch to the left I would have died.  You have
to rethink your life after a narrow escape. Of course, I was one of the
victors.  I don't know how I would feel if it all was in vain."

"That may be part of Willy's problem."

We talked for a while then he offered me a job at the mine as a letter
writer.  It was understood I would develop this into a school.  It was a
good salary and he said I could stay at the guesthouse for a while until I
could save up enough to build a cabin.

"I would like it if you could return this afternoon around four and share
my private bath?" Mr. Beauchamp said, "Colonel Meredith said you would not
object, and thought you would enjoy it." I agreed. When I left, Slim was
waiting to take me to the mining area.  Slim gave me tour. He wasn't as
silent as on the trip to Hardwood, but he had no future as a tour
guide. They jokingly called the mining cam West Hardwood.  It was much more
rustic and dirty than Hardwood itself.  The dirt was all dust from the
mining operations. The mines were to the north of the settlement. Most of
the time the winds were from the east or the west and missed the camp. If
the wind was from the north-west or northeast, dust covered the camp.

The settlement was mostly bunkhouses, a general store, some restaurants and
a saloon.  The biggest building was a bath. This was more rustic than the
baths at the guesthouse. All the miners had to bathe after leaving the
mine.  The water was filtered to gather any silver.  I has assumed they
were after gold, but it was a silver mine. The miners got 50% of the silver
and Mr. Beauchamp got the rest. This was considered exceptionally
generous. Mr. Beauchamp owned the Saloon too.

I assumed the Saloon was a way to get the silver back from the miners, but
no drunkenness was allowed, and the gambling was limited. I later found out
the income from the saloon paid my salary and for the doctor too. These
services were free to the miners.

I was back at Mr. Beauchamp's house at 4:00 and a Chinese houseboy was
waiting.  He took me to the private bath. I stripped in a dressing room and
the Chinese boy took my clothes. The clothes were brushed and cleaned when
I came back after the bath. The bath itself was small but tiled in marble
and more elegant than even the Alhambra in Philadelphia.

I was alone, so I showered and cleaned up after the dusty trip to the
mine. After a few minutes, Mr. Beauchamp appeared with three large and
impressive men. I assumed they were bodyguards. Titus was a big black man,
O'Brien, a big Irishman and Wong was a short but very muscular Chinese man.

 "I hope you don't mind if I am very direct," Mr. Beauchamp asked.  "I
asked you here so I could enjoy you sexually.  If you object to that, I
fully understand. I assure you your employment here is not related to your
willingness."

"I assume Colonel Meredith told you I am a most willing participant in most
things sexual," I replied.

Beauchamp smiled. "Yes he did. My friends here enjoy much the same things
as we. Some men object to playing with men of different colors. I must
confess that I find watching a dark shaft penetrating a white hole to be
stimulating.  Is that a problem?"

"I have no experience with that, but I rather doubt it is a problem," I
said.