Date: Sun, 08 Feb 2009 19:37:18 -0500
From: tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Behind the Bar

			      BEHIND THE BAR
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
			WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

"Aw, shit!" said Jacob as he saw who just entered the bar. It was Montana
Charley White, and he had blood in his eye. He was a cowhand on the Bar T
Ranch, and there were three other hands behind him, and the bar currently
held six Circle J hands. Given there was a water war on between those two
ranches, and since Jacob was a hand on the Lazy M, he felt that discretion
was the only part of valor here.

He looked for a place to hide from the fight and possible gunfire that was
about to ensue, and the best bet was behind the bar.

And so that was where he went. He sent two beer glasses sprawling as he did
it, both reasonably full of beer and one of which had been his, but hell,
that wasn't worth getting shot for, or even getting a bottle broken over
his head.

He got behind the bar and settled down. Absent the slight possibility that
somehow brought the fight behind here, he was safe as he was going to get.

Behind, the crashes and tinkles were already underway.

Another body landed beside him. Not thrown, but a fellow escapee. The guy
looked at him quickly and he looked at him. "Who are you?" Jacob asked.

It was simple survival in the West to know your neighbors. A stranger was
danger, simple as that, and he didn't know this guy.

"Tyler Coombes." the guy said and extended his hand. He had jet black hair
and a face that spoke of possible half-Latino ancestry. No big deal in this
part of the West, if you wanted a wife here, you had a better'n 50-50
chance that a dark-skinned wife was your only real option. And the families
were more than happy to give their daughters to a white man, it was a huge
step up the social ladder for their womenfolk to marry even a poor white
man.

And this guy was big enough to not worry about his mother's shorter
stature, he was nearly up to Jacob's own five foot nine.

So Jacob gave his own name and they both flinched as a bottle smashed the
mirror a short ways down the bar. No glass got to them, though, which was a
relief.

"They go at it like this a lot?" Tyler asked him.

"Only every chance they get." Jacob said. "It can makes things a bit lively
on Saturday nights around here." Especially in mid-winter, when the work
for the hands on a ranch were pretty much half miserable (working outdoors)
and half boredom (indoors with nothing to do for days on end).

Tyler grinned, which made Jacob like him even more. "I like a good time as
much as the next guy. But isn't there a sheriff in this town?"

"Yep." Jacob said. "And normally he'd break this sort of thing up in a few
minutes. Trouble is, he's downstate with the Territorial Governor for some
kind of meeting or other about getting New Mexico made into a state. So we
just have to sort of wait this thing out."

The racket was at full fury now.

"I think it's going to take a while."

"Just until they beat each other's brains out." Jacob affirmed. "Given they
don't have much brains, though, it's kind of hard for them to hit em, so
they're going to take a while."

Tyler grinned and his smile was a white beacon on his face. "So we here for
a while?" and the Spanish in his background came through in that
sentence. He hadn't had as much of one before, it was like he was relaxing
around Jacob.

"Something like that." Jacob agreed, grinned back. "Unless you want to try
to make it out through all that. Me, I'm waiting right here."

"I think I wait here with you." Tyler said and his hand landed on Jacob's
leg.

It didn't surprise Jacob as much as it would have back in Missouri where
women were plentiful. He'd been in New Mexico Territory now for some years,
now, though, and his attitudes had shifted since he'd arrived here at the
tender age of fifteen. When women are scarce, there's only one real option
for a man, if he doesn't care to try to prong one of his cows or horses
instead. A man could always reach for another man.

This situation, though, didn't seem to call for any nudity on their
parts. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea." was what Jacob answered
instead of a full rebuff. "We could wait until this is over and get a hotel
room." That to keep that smile on him.

"Hotel room later, sure." Tyler agreed. But his hand didn't stop. It ended
up at Jacob's crotch right on time like the best-run railroad in the
West. Pulled to a stop there and Jacob's cock supplied the whistle and
hissing of steam out of the brakes.

"Here?" was all he said and he gasped that out.

"Sure, why not?" Tyler said cunningly. "Not like we got anything else to
do, no?"

"No." Jacob sighed and lifted his buttocks to free up the buttons on his
fly. Tyler's hands moved with the ease of long practice. But hell, he'd
grown up with these jeans, same as Jacob had, the angle wasn't so much of a
much when dealing with button-flys.

So soon enough, Tyler had hold of the inner fly of Jacob's longjohns, and a
few more buttons to remove, this time only loose cotton holding them shut
and that was worn and frayed from a few too many winters of non-stop use,
and then he was fishing out Jacob's manhood to stand tall and proud in the
yellow light of the kerosene lanterns. The one over the bar, that is, the
rest were probably knocked out of commission by now. But the fight was
still going on, if somewhat unabated. More likely they had finished
breaking up all the furniture and been reduced to fisticuffs and wrestling
holds.

Of course, Jacob had his own wrestling hold going on. He was glad to have
that warm brown hand on his prick, but he wanted something to hold for
himself! He got Tyler's pants open easily enough and there weren't any
longjohns in there to stifle things (damn, Tyler must have been cold
wearing just jeans in this weather!), and he had that warm dun-colored dong
to play with.

But they ended up in the age-old problem of two guys sitting side by side
when it comes to mutual masturbation, their arms got in each other way.

Jacob solved that by reaching around Tyler's back and grabbing him from the
other side. He still couldn't jerk it worth a damn, but he still had hold
of that nice, firm fucktool and he could fondle it while Tyler played his
symphony with skillful fingers on Jacob's love-flute!

"Ah, uh, fuck!" Jacob sighed. "Feels good, yeah!"

A crash told the two that a chair which had survived up until now had just
been turned to kindling over some hapless cowhand. Whether it was a Bar T
or a Circle J back, Jacob didn't know and the water war was really only
part of a long series of wrongs these two neighboring ranches had done to
each other over the years. Every winter, the floods would change the curve
of the stream and the water fight would renew itself. Hard at this point to
say either side had any right on their side any longer.

At least there hadn't been any gunfire so far. Just healthy men working out
their winter frustrations. Jacob had his own frustrations, and he had his
own way of getting them worked out for him, and Tyler was doing a pretty
good job of it!

More than a pretty good job. "Damn, man, you're good at jerking my tool!"
Jacob groaned.

"Your fingers feel pretty good too, compadre." Tyler's Latino heritage was
showing more with his rising passion. That head of black hair was nestled
on Jacob's shoulder, and he rested his own tawny locks against it, the two
joined in their joy as their hands plied their trade.

But Tyler had the better hold by far, Jacob was squirming much more than
the gentle working of his fingers could do for Tyler, he was grunting and
panting pretty hard.

The fight was winding down, now it was a couple of isolated noises. Most of
the patrons had either fled the scene or were now unconscious.

"Sounds like we can move this to that hotel room now." Jacob breathed
huskily.

"To hell with that." Tyler judged. "I got this thing warmed up enough now
to do this." And Tyler leaned over and gulped Jacob's prong down tot he
base!

"Oh, God!" Jacob moaned as that warm moisture engulfed him. "Oh, God, oh,
oh, oh, OH, GOD!" He gasped and his climax was upon him. His mauled prod
was avenging itself upon its assailant by spraying thick streams of hot
jizz down that generous throat!

Tyler gulped at the hot flood greedily, eager grunts as he swallowed and
went back for more. Jacob hunched at those lips as he kept ejaculating and
when he was finally done, Tyler's lips sucked at his dong like a straw,
draining him dry.

When Jacob was done, his chest heaving, Tyler lifted up, wiping at his
lips, and said, "You want that hotel room now?"

Jacob feasted his eyes on that warm, dark-brown dick and said, "Fuck the
hotel." and he dove for that pud. Tyler's only reaction was a gentle warm
laugh and a scoot down to let Jacob get a good hold.

Warm hot man-flesh filled Jacob's mouth, steaming precome touched his
tongue, the warm musky smell of the Latino crotch filled his nostrils, his
ears were filled with the chuckles and then the groans of Tyler above him,
every sense but his eyes, which were closed, were overloading on this hot
stud whose prong he had just wolfed down. He bobbed his head fast as he
could, for the fight was now done and any moment now, the bartender (who
had sensibly fled outdoors at the start) would be back to pick up the
pieces.

So he was ramming that hot cock down his throat fast as he could, he wanted
this stud to get off for him...then off to the hotel for a bit of
relaxation and some slow, sweet lovemaking that would make this more than a
behind-the-bar quickie.

"Ah, ah, here it comes, here it comes!" warned Tyler. Jacob forced his
now-tired neck muscles to speed up as much as they could, and there was the
sound of rising male desire, the smell of pores opening up to release their
salty perfume, the taste of precome sizzling on his tongue and the heat of
that hard prick was slipping up and down like an old friend in his mouth
and throat.

And Tyler let out a keening sound much like a coyote howling in the night,
and that hot prod flushed itself into Jacob's mouth, he was determined to
gulp it all down like Tyler had done for him, he had tasted male jism
before, but this was hotter, thicker, saltier than any he'd had in some
time, he found it going down his throat in big lumps instead of a creamy
stream, he gulped and gulped again and still some driblets escaped down the
cock, he finished Tyler off as best he could, and then his tongue got busy
to lap the rivulets down that luscious shaft and then he returned to the
tip to suck the tube empty and won a final pearl of spunk for his effort.

"Ah, man, ah, man!" Tyler moaned.

"Hey, who is that?" came the sound. The bartender. "Who's back there behind
my bar?"

"Just me, Willie." Jacob called out. "Jacob Martin, off the Lazy M. Is it
safe to come out now?"

That was said in a blase tone, when in fact the bar hid two men hastily
fumbling at their flies. The tromping of broken wood and glass warned them
of the bartender's approach and when Willie (a white-haired old
ex-prospector now reduced to dispensing someone else's liquor and beer)
made it back there, he only saw two cowhands hiding out.

"Yeah, they're all gone, damn it." Willie groused. "You know who did this?"

"You know well as I do, Bar T...." Jacob said.

"And Circle J." Willie nodded. "Damn. I'll send their bosses each half the
bill, then."

"Well, good luck." Jacob said.

"You two want to earn two bits to help me sweep this all up?"

"Sorry." Jacob said for him and his new friend. "We got a previous
appointment."

"Yeah, and they're waiting for us." Tyler chipped in.

"Good night, Willie." Jacob said. "And thanks for letting us hide behind
the bar."

"Really nice place to hide." Tyler agreed.

And the two laughing cowhands went out into the night.

				  THE END
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		  E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
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