Date: Sun, 16 Aug 2020 16:28:01 +0000
From: JordanProject <JordanProject@protonmail.com>
Subject: Military Training & Management - 14

This story is fiction. Any resemblance to real people is purely
coincidental. It's copyrighted 2020 by The Jordan Project, all rights
reserved outside of Nifty. The reader comes first, so I welcome
feedback. Please take some time to provide it to
JordanProject@protonmail.com. What works? What doesn't work?

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The bonfire burned brightly, crackling in the darkness, and the river
rushed in the background. Deputy Sherman, clad in blue civilian work pants
and a short sleeved work shirt, unbuttoned to expose a tank top
t-shirt. The deputy was relaxed, sprawling against a log, his legs spread
wide, drinking his third bourbon of the night. Tommy sprawled against
another log. Clifton was next to Tommy, sitting tightly.

"Yeah, Tommy," the deputy said casually, "you've got to watch out for the
girls here. You get one of 'em in trouble, and you might as well tie a
boulder to your neck and jump in that river."

In a month of doing chores for the deputy at his house, Clifton had gotten
to know Tommy. The fawning servant at the country club managed to make
Yarrow feel humiliated merely by placing himself on an equal
plane. Ordinarily, a returning military cadet would be entitled to a
significant degree of deference from a high school youth, but Tommy paid
him no special respect, and that was enough to send a message.

"You keep tellin' me that, Pa, but you never tell me what I'm supposed to
do about this," Tommy said, laughing as he put his hand on his crotch and
rubbed it. "Girls won't even give blowjobs. Unchristian or something, but
they're always wantin' to spread their legs. I can't stand it!"

"Yep, son, it's all part of the plan, and you got to stay away from them
snatches if you don't want to wind up in some tarpaper shack with a knocked
up wife and three kids by the time you're 25," the deputy said.

"Pa, I've been wearin' off all the skin on my dick with my hand, but it's
gettin' old," Tommy said. He turned to Clifton and spoke.

"How'd you handle it, bud?" he asked. "You ever fuck any of the girls?"

Yarrow hesitated. This was dangerous territory. As he was formulating a
reply, the deputy spoke up.

"Nope, Tommy, ol' Clifty boy here didn't fuck any of the girls, I guarantee
you that," he said, lightly. "Did ya, Clifty?"

"No sir, I didn't," he answered. "Never did screw any of the girls in this
town."

"Nope, what ol' Clifty boy did was get himself screwed," the deputy said,
letting his words hang in the air for effect. "Clifty boy got himself
fucked, alright. In the ass, in the mouth, any time a Man wanted it. Ain't
that about right, Clifty?"

Yarrow froze. The deputy's son turned to stare in his direction, his jaw
wide open in a mixture of fascination, amusement, and contempt at the freak
he'd been sitting next to.

"Ain't that right, Clifty?" the deputy repeated. "I asked you a question,
little fella."

"Y-y-y-yes, sir," he stammered.

The deputy chuckled and took another gulp of his drink.

"Yes sir what?" he said. "What'd you do?"

"I – I – I did what you and the sheriff and the others told me to do,
sir." he replied, softly.

A derisive smile formed on the deputy's son's face.

"Clifton's a queer, Pa?" he said, amazed.

"Not a queer, Tommy," the deputy said. "But a goddamned good cock sucker
just the same. Good at takin' a Man's stiff pecker up his ass, too!"

"I don't get it," Tommy replied. "How's he not ..."

"Yer queer's a girl with a dick. Falls in love and wants to be treated
sweet, and no matter how hard she tries she'll let everyone know," the
deputy replied, his tone easy. "Boys like Clifty here, they'll do
everything a queer'll do, but no one'll ever know 'cause they ain't in
love. There ain't nothing to show, and they'll won't say a damn word to
anyone 'cause they don't want anyone to know.

"Any fella who asks to suck yer dick is a queer, and ya stay away. Ya need
to find one to take care of your stiff arm who does it 'cause there ain't
nothin' else he can do. Clifty here knows his place is to do whatever the
hell a Man tells him to do. Ain't no difference between washin' your car
and takin' yer dick. He does it 'cause you're a Man and he's not, and he
knows it. Ain't that about right, little Clifty?"

Yarrow hesitated, not knowing what to say.

"I asked you a question, Clifty," the deputy said, coldly. "Ain't that
about right?"

"Yes sir," he replied, softly.

"I don't think I heard ya," the deputy said.

"Yes sir!" he answered, loudly.

"Yes sir what?" the deputy said.

"I do it 'cause I'm not a Man," he said, the humiliation washing over him.

"That's right, Clifty. Now Tommy, there's more like Clifty than ya think,"
the deputy continued. "We see 'em all the time at the jail. They're
someone's punk behind bars, then they get out and go home to their wives
and never say a damn word and try to keep it from happenin' ever
again. Half them waiters at the country club are Cliftys. And of course
there's Clifty right here."

"Pa, wouldn't I be a queer for lettin' him do it?" Tommy asked.

"Hell no!" the deputy roared. "First of all, yer not lettin' him do
anything. You are tellin' him what to do. Yer a Man now, and the first
thing a Man does is get his dick taken care of. Ya let the girls around
here do it, and yer gonna be stuck real hard, real fast. Ya have Clifty do
it, and ya keep yer freedom. Yer a Man getting' what a Man gets. Nothin'
queer about it."

The deputy handed his son the bottle of liquor at his side.

"Have a pull, son," he said. "Yer getting' to be a Man now."

Tommy took a long drink, and immediately retched it out, coughing and
sputtering as his father watched, laughing. When his son was through, the
deputy handed him a canteen.

"A try a short pull of whisky and a long pull of water," he said. "Takes a
while to get used to Jake Whidley's product."

Tommy tried again, and this time it went down easier. The young Man
relaxed, leaned back and spread his legs like his father. He was wearing
the same work pants and shirt, and the light from the fire highlighted the
well-filled crotches of both father and son.

"Ya know why they call him little Clifty, don't you?" the deputy asked.

The son chuckled and answered.

"Yeah, he was a midget when he was growing up," Tommy said. "Caleb said
everyone called him little Clifty, and it got to him until he started
growing."

"Well, son, little Clifty got taller, but he didn't get any longer," the
deputy answered, chuckling. "Little Clifty's still a little fella where it
counts. Don't got no hair like a Man, either. Might as well be 11 years old
where it counts. Ya know, most of them little Cliftys are the same
way. Ain't that that right, Clifty?"

"Yes sir, I suppose so," Yarrow said, avoiding the extra humiliation of
being prompted.

"Tommy, the other thing about havin' a little Clifty to take care of
yerself is that he'll do things that these proper Southern girls won't ever
do," the deputy said. "Things ya wouldn't want 'em to do, like getting'
bent over one of these logs here and takin' it straight up the ass. Or
lickin' your balls like they was an ice cream cone, or havin' ya squirt
straight in their face. All kinds a-things that girls'll never do, Clifty
here, he'll do because you'll tell him to."

The words hung in the air.

"And once yer done, Clifty here will thank ya," the deputy said. "Ain't
that right, little Clifty? And let me hear ya this time."

"Yes sir!" Yarrow replied.

"And if whatever ya tell him to do, he'll be nice and polite, just like ya
got to be at that country club," the deputy said. "Don't matter if it's
sucking yer dick or cleanin' off yer boots, 'cause yer a Man and his job is
to be show good manners to Men. Ain't that right, Clifty?"

"Yes sir!" he said.

The deputy moved off the ground and sat on top of the log, and motioned for
his son to do the same. Now, the action was to begin.

"Clifty, why don't y'all scoot on over here and sit right on down," the
deputy said, motioning to a spot between his spread-out legs. "Let's show
Tommy what we mean about you and that suckin' little mouth a-yers."

"Yes sir," Yarrow replied, moving over to where the deputy had pointed.

"Now why don't y'all just warm me up like you like to," the deputy said.

"Yes sir," Clifton said, putting his mouth on the deputy's crotch, and
blowing softy. The deputy stroked his head as he paid special attention to
the Man's balls, which were pouched in the fabric.

"That's right, you take care a-things, little Clifty," he said, in a tone
that affectionate and mocking. "Man gets all jammed up, y'know."

"Yes sir," the boy answered, in a muffled voice.

Tommy had thrown a couple more logs on the campfire, and the light
highlighted his father's crotch brightly. Clifton's blowing had caused the
deputy's dick to stiffen, and it jutted up against the fabric of his
pants. He knew what the deputy wanted, and grabbed the deputy's dick
tightly with one hand as he worked. Tommy, sitting next to his father,
looked over in amazement. He felt himself stiffening.

"Dang!" he said. "Hot dang!"

The deputy grabbed his son's canteen and shook it. There was more water
left. He handed the liquor bottle to him.

"There's enough water in there for another pull," he said. Tommy took a
swig of bourbon, held it in his mouth, and drained the canteen, mixing it
in his mouth.

"Thanks, Pa," he said. "Goes down good with that water."

The deputy turned his attention back to Clifton, who had kept
working. Tommy looked back down too. Clifton was working on the deputy's
dick now, alternating between rubbing it through the fabric and blowing on
it.

"Pa, for someone who ain't queer, he's sure doin' a good job of actin' like
it," Tommy said with a laugh.

"Don't really matter," the deputy said, chuckling. "Little Clifty here's
been doing whatever Men tell him to do since he was in the eighth
grade. Ain't that about right, little fella?"

"Yes sir!" Clinton replied, looking up at the deputy.

"Queer ain't the point," the deputy continued, "but he does like to satisfy
a Man. Half the time, he enjoys it so much that his little half pecker gets
stiff while he's doin' it. So it don't really matter what ya call him. I
guess ya might as well enjoy your work!"

"Dang, Pa, could he work on me?" Tommy asked, eagerly.

The deputy laughed, and slapped his son on the back.

"Horny buck, just like your old Man!" he replied. "Clifty, why don't you go
to work on him same as ya did with me, while I go get something."

"Yes sir!" Clifton replied, as the deputy stood up, his hardon outlined
against the saliva-moistened fabric of his trousers. Yarrow moved over to
the deputy's son, seated on the log, sat down in the dirt, and put his
mouth on his crotch and began to blow softly, as the deputy hopped over the
log and strolled to his pickup truck parked a couple hundred feet away. He
opened the door and reached inside and retrieved a black bag. By the time
he returned, Tommy was moaning.

"Oh yeah!" he said, breathing hard. "Oh yeah!"

"Easy there, cowboy," the deputy chuckled. "Night's young. Clifty, y'all
back off for a while and let Tommy collect himself."

Clifton lay his head on the son's thigh while the deputy opened the bag and
rummaged around inside. He came up with a tight leather glove, which he put
onto his right hand, the thin leather fitting like a second skin.

"Okay, Clifty, you know the drill," he said. "Y'all get them clothes off
now."

"Yes sir," he replied, standing up. He sat on the log, a ways away from
Tommy, and removed his shoes. Then he stood up and removed his overalls,
and the work shirt underneath, and then his boxer shorts.

"Now you just stand there so Tommy can get a look at you," the deputy said,
moving over to throw some more wood on the campfire. The glow intensified,
casting a bright light.

"I'll be damned, Pa!" the deputy's son exclaimed. Clifton was entirely
hairless, not even a strand on his body. His genitals were those of a
little boy, balls barely the size of walnuts and a dick the size of a Man's
thumb.

"If Clifty here winds up enjoyin' himself, that little thing won't get a
whole lot bigger than it is right now," the deputy said, arranging first a
blanket and then the boy's shirt on top of the log. "Tommy, this little
fella's gonna suck our dicks and then we're gonna screw him
tonight. There's a certain way of doin' it, and I'm gonna show ya how."

Tommy was wide eyed as Clifton got on his knees and then put his head in
his lap, found his crotch, and resuming blowing.

"Now ya control yourself, son," the deputy said. "Don't want y'all shootin'
yer bullet too quick! That goes for you too, Clifty."

"Yes sir," he said, his voice muffled by fabric.

"Now we don't want to rip him up, son," the deputy said. "So we go in
stages."

He bent down and grabbed a tube, unscrewed the cap and squeezed some cream
onto the fingers of the glove, telling Clifton to spread his legs wide.

"First you rub this onto his back hole," the deputy said, in a casual and
almost distracted way, as if the kneeling boy was a farm animal. "Clifty
cleans himself out every day, but y'all still want to be wearin' a glove."

He brought his hand back up, and spread a little more cream on his index
finger.

"Then ya put your finger up inside," the deputy continued. Y'all go in and
out a few times, then give it a rest. The cream here will relax him, but ya
need to give it a little time to work."

He raised his hand again, and this time spread the cream on both his index
and middle fingers.

"Then y'all go back in and loosen him up a bit," the Man said, "just like
lubricatin' a tight little valve."

Again, he withdrew, and then bent over and produced a piece of slick, black
rubber with a cylindrical head, thick at the bottom and tapering toward the
top. At the very bottom, there was a wide flange. Altogether, the rubber
was four or so inches long and an inch in diameter at the widest part of
the base. The deputy liberally applied more cream onto the head.

"Ya slide this up inside his back hole nice n' slow," the deputy said,
inserting the piece. "The flange at the end keeps it from goin' all the way
in, and the wide part keeps it from comin' out. Helps if someone else is
there to hold it in when ya use the first one, 'cause it's little and
slides back out pretty easy. Y'all give it a few minutes so he gets used to
it."

The deputy stood up again, and bent down and fished out a bigger plug, this
one about an inch and a half at the base of the triangle and six or so
inches from the tip of the head to the base of the flange. He greased it
up, and then resumed his instructions.

"Now y'all be real careful when ya take out these plugs," he said. "Ya ease
it out, ya don't yank it out. Ya give him a little rest, then put the
bigger one in."

After he did the transfer, the deputy ordered Clifton to stand up. He had
gotten an erection, pointing up at a 45-degree angle.

"What do ya think, Tommy, three inches? Maybe four?" the deputy
said. "Ain't what any Man's got. Is it, little Clifty?"

"No sir," the boy replied softly.

"And that's just the way it oughtta be, ain't it?"

"Yes sir."

"That a-boy. Now y'all get back down and take care of that Man," he said,
pointing to his son, who felt a swelling of pride (and something else) at
his father's words.

"Yes sir," Clifton replied, returning to his knees and putting his head in
Tommy's lap.

The deputy sat down on the log, next to his son.

"Trust me, ya got plenty of time to train little Clifty to do things
exactly the way y'all want 'em, but this time just let him do what he knows
best," he said. "I'll guide him a bit. Just don't squirt 'til I tell ya,
alright?"

"I'll try, Pa," his son said, breathing heavily.

Clifton went to work, gathering the fabric of Tommy's work pants around his
stiff dick, moving up and down, blowing his hot, moist breath inward. As he
did so, the deputy put his arm around his son's shoulders, encouraging him.

"Look at that," the deputy said. "That's what a little Clifty does for a
Man. Yer getting what a Man deserves, and Clifty boy there is doin' what he
likes best. He's makin' a Man feel satisfied like a Man oughtta be."

The words electrified the sheriff's son, who'd never heard his father refer
to him as a Man.

"Yeah, blow on my dick, little Clifty," he said, picking up his father's
words and easy, superior tone. "That's a boy, y'all do yer job."

"Yes sir," Yarrow said, fully aware that he was servicing a 16-year-old,
his humiliation aching with sweetness. He rubbed his hand on the the young
Man's dick through his trousers, the erection straining the fabric.

"Undo my son's pants," the deputy said. "Show him what little Clifty does
for a Man and his stiff dick."

"Yes sir!" he replied, unzipping the fly. His reached inside and fished out
the erection that had been bulging inside. Clifton put his mouth on the
head, sucking at the precum that had made a wet spot in the fabric. Tommy
gasped and grabbed the back of the boy's head, pulling him closer. The
deputy interrupted, pulling his son's hand away.

"Ease off and let the little fella do his work," he said. "Ya won't be
sorry."

Tommy relaxed his grip, and Clifton tugged at the waistband, freeing the
young Man's pecker. The purple head glistened with precum, and Clifton
licked the piss slit. He pulled the loose skin down with his hand, exposing
the full head, and swirled his tongue around it as Tommy smiled. Clifton
then moved his mouth onto the tip, and down a couple inches, and
established tight suction while he used his tongue to stimulate the young
Man's erection.

"Oh yeah, Clifty!" Tommy said. "Dang, that feels great."

The deputy spoke up.

"Look at him. On his knees for a Man again," he said. "Look how well a
Man's stiff dick fits in his mouth. Look at what a good job he
does. Clifty's been doin' a good job for Men for a long, long time. That's
Clifty boy's place, and Clifty boy knows it."

The boy kept working on Tommy's pecker. He backed off the suction, and
resumed licking just the head, lapping up the pre-cum now leaking profusely
from the deputy's son's dick.

"It's good for Clifty if you rub all that slime on his face, Tom," the
deputy whispered to his son in a conspiratorial tone purposely loud enough
for Yarrow to hear. "Gets him used to the smell and taste of another Man
he'll be workin' on this summer."

Another first: His father had called him "Tom," and again called him a
Man. He began rubbing his erection on the boy's face.

"Make sure to leave some on his upper lip, Tom," the deputy said. "Once yer
done shootin', squirt a little there and rub it in. Makes him smell ya
afterwards."

The young Man did as his father suggested, slathering the mixture of spit
and precum all over the boy's lips, and chin, and cheeks. Feeling the power
of his position, he took the initiative for the first time, leaning over
and spitting on his own dick.

"Y'all lick on that, little Clifty," he said, using his father's tender,
mocking tone. "Get everything good and slick for me."

As Clifton worked, the young Tom directed his actions.

"That's a boy, y'all lick my dickhead real good there," he said,
lustily. "Now suck on the head real, real nice 'n tight there."

Yarrow did as commanded, and Tom rubbed the top of his head.

"That's a boy," he said. "You do that."

Then he took his slick, engorged pecker out and again rubbed it over
Yarrow's face. As he did so, he spit onto the top of Clifton's head, and
rubbed it into the brush cut.

"You gonna add another Man to the list, then," Tom said, casting a
delighted smile at his father. "Well now ya get to know me."

"Better stand up before ya squirt," the deputy's son heard his father
say. "Makes it easier to shoot off that way. Clifty needs somethin' in his
little throat now."

Tom stood. Like his father, he was lean and tall. He had unbuttoned his
shirt in the night's heat, revealing more hair on his chest than just about
any other 16-year-old, and the beginnings of a healthy forest of hair on
his abdomen, a trail meeting his belt buckle, which was still
fastened. Abundant pubic hair peeked out through the combined openings of
his boxers and dark work pants. His erection pointed straight out at a 90
degree angle, thick and long, well over eight inches. In that department,
he was fully adult.

Clifton remained on his knees as the younger Man took a wide stance, drew
himself up to his full height, and pressed his stiff pecker up against the
boy's lips.

"Open up your mouth for me there, little Clifty," Tom said, his voice deep
and confident.

The deputy, watching while seated on the log, called over.

"Clifty's gonna rub the back of yer legs, so don't worry about it, Tom," he
said. "Makes for a better squirt. And be careful how far ya stick that
sword a-yers in his throat. Ain't gonna go in all the way."

"Okay, Pa," Tom called back quickly, over his shoulder.

"Do your job then," he said to Yarrow, again spitting on his head and
rubbing it in. This would be his signature, he decided. In what seemed like
barely more than an instant, Clifton had tightened his mouth around Tom's
erection. The young Man tightened his grip on the boy's head, but
remembered what the deputy had said, and pumped about two-thirds of his
length into Yarrow's mouth, moving in and out rhythmically. The precum
flowed faster, and there was less and less difference between its flow and
an actual ejaculation. It was the deputy's first sexual encounter beyond
his own hand, and it was as if a dam was overflowing.

He stood fucking the boy's mouth, and then Yarrow lightly rubbed the backs
of his thighs while tightening his mouth and furiously working his tongue
on the shaft, causing the dam to burst. The deputy's son breathed heavily
as the spasms squirted uncontrollably into Clifton's throat. The deputy was
now at his son's side.

"Take it outta Clifty's mouth and squirt onto his lips, Tom," he said. His
son did so, while Yarrow closed his mouth and felt the last, small spasms
send cum onto his upturned face.

"Now ya take yer thumb and ya rub it around his lips and the bottom of his
nose," the deputy said. "If there's any left, rubbin' it into his hair's a
good place, especially if ya give it another spit."

The young Man did so, and then the deputy whispered quietly so only the two
could hear.

"The last thing ya do is ask him what he says to ya, Tom," the deputy
whispered. "He answers to you, but y'all never answer to him."

"Gotcha, Pa," Tom whispered back.

"You got anything to say to me, little Clifty boy?" the deputy's son asked,
again in a voice too gentle and therefore deeply humiliating.

"Thank you sir!" Clifton replied eagerly, as if he were waiting a table at
the country club. "I sure hope I satisfied you, sir!"

Tom turned away and added another log to the fire. His father went back and
stood on the log, and ordered Clifton to return. Tom had come back, and
stood next to the deputy and Clifton walked toward them, his little dick
pointing skyward.

"You get on your knees and bend over on the log," the deputy said,
matter-of-factly.

"Yes sir!" Clifton replied, following the order as the deputy moved behind
him.

"Tom, let me show ya the right way to unplug him," he said.

"Spread your legs a little wider there, Clifty," the deputy called out.

"Yes sir!" Yarrow replied, complying.

"Now ya don't just yank it outta there, Tom," the deputy said. "Y'all got
to do this right carefully."

He reached inside his shirt pocket and fished out a couple of thick rubber
bands.

"If the little fella's got himself a hardon like now, then ya put these
rubber bands around the base of his little dick and nuts to keep it that
way," the deputy said, tripling them to fashion a tourniquet. "Now ya do
that just like this, without touchin' him. A Man don't touch a Man or a boy
there unless he's got to. If he ain't hard, then no need for it."

The deputy removed the rubber bands and handed them to his son.

"Now you do it, Tom," he said. "Triple 'em up and hold 'em wide. Get 'em
all the way down there and then ya can release."

The bands were secured, and now it was time to remove the plug. The deputy
put the same glove he'd used before, and grasped the flange at the end of
the plug.

"Ya just ease it on out," he said, moving the hard rubber up and down
gently, and pulling. Yarrow groaned a bit, and his buttocks twisted as the
piece slid out. The sheriff's deputy set it down on a rag lying next to the
kit bag.

"Then y'all take a look in there and see if there's any dirt," the deputy
said. "There ain't any tonight, but half the time there'll be some. That's
why there's that pail over there with the water. If he'd been dirty, you
have him clean himself out with that enema bag and a little bit of soap."

As before, the deputy prepared to reverse the operation so Tom could do
it. He retrieved the plug and reached into the bag and found the tube of
lubricant.

"Here Tom, get your glove on and you'll put this into him and then take it
out again," his father said. At no point did they interact with Yarrow; it
was a mechanical operation, as if they were working on a car.

After his son had donned his own glove, the deputy handed him the
lubricant.

"Coat it up pretty good, and put it in just like ya saw me take it out," he
said. Tom moved carefully, rocking the plug in while Yarrow squirmed.

"Now why don't ya ease it on out," his father said. "Real careful. Ya don't
want to be pullin' his insides out. That'd be a big problem."

"Okay, Pa," he said, moving cautiously. The plug slid out, and Tom set it
on the rag. His father pointed at the flashlight, and Tom did the same
inspection.

"Okay, Tom, now ya wipe that thing off and ya can put it that pail of water
for now," the deputy said. "Tomorrow we'll have Clifty boil some water and
wash everything down."

"Okay Pa, now what?" the deputy's son asked.

"Well, you got to recharge yer batteries, and Clifty there needs time to
tighten back up," the deputy said, with a chuckle. "Shouldn't be too long
though. Plug wasn't in there more 'n about 20 minutes. This little fella's
been plugged for hours at a time when he needed it."

The deputy returned to the log and slid in front of Yarrow, and motioned
for Tom to sit next to him.

"I'll just let Clifty here go to work for a while and get me ready for
what's coming up next," he said.

As he had done before, the deputy leaned back and spread his legs
wide. Yarrow blew softly into the fabric of his work pants, and the deputy
removed his shirt. Unlike his son, he was wearing an undershirt,
sleeveless. A thick carpet of chest hair poked up out the neck hole, and
when he clasped his hands behind his head his armpits were covered by thick
forests.

Yarrow had gotten the deputy erect, and looked up into his eyes as he
softly rubbed it through his pants.

"Well, Clifty, now y'all got yourself another Man to take care of this
summer," he said. "There's the sheriff and his son, and me, and now my son
Tom. Every last one of us is your boss, and you'll be takin' good care of
us. Especially Tom here. He's as horny as a jack rabbit."

"Yes sir!" Yarrow said. "I hope I can do a good job, sir."

"Now Tom here, he's 'sir' like the rest of us," the deputy said. "You'll
start callin' both of us 'deputy.' When we're together and ya need to tell
us apart, he's "Deputy Tom" and I'm "Deputy Sherman, ya hear? Deputy Tom
here will be startin' at the sheriffs department when we get back from this
trip here."

"Yes sir!" he replied.

"Now you just go nice and easy there, little fella," the deputy said,
smiling down at Clifton with the same gentle, humiliating affection."Y'all
hear?"

"Yes sir!" he replied again, rubbing the massive, rock-hard shaft slowly.

"Ya see, Tom," he said casually, "it really ain't a matter of Clifty here
bein' any kinda queer, no matter if he's got a little stiff arm or not. A
lot of times, this little fella will get himself stiff just doin' chores
for a Man if he thinks he's satisfyin' him."

The deputy's son picked up on the tone.

"Is that right, Pa?" he said.

"Oh, you bet it is," his father replied. "It really ain't different for him
if he's takin' care of yer boots or givin' yer pecker a good shine. Pretty
much all the same for this little fella. Some fellas are just made that
way. In fact a lot more than ya might think, but not too many of 'em ever
get the chance to play it all out. Like I say, I reckon half them waiters
at the country club are the same way, or would be if they got the chance."

"But they ain't queer, Pa?" his son asked. "They'd suck a Man's dick and
they ain't queer?"

"Some of 'em are, and I feel sorry for 'em," the deputy answered. "They get
all confused, and they think a Man's gonna love 'em like a girlfriend. Like
I told ya before, ya want to steer clear of them. Little fella like Clifty
here, he just wants to satisfy ya, that's it."

He looked down at Yarrow.

"Now why don't ya undo my fly there and start slickin' me up," he said,
more forcefully. Yarrow unzipped the deputy, reached inside, carefully
pulled his hard dick out, and began working on his with his mouth.

"Ya see, Tom, there's two things," the deputy said. "When yer getting' yer
dick sucked like he's doin' now, that's a matter of pleasin' ya. Clifty's
made to do it, but he's also needs to have a Man show him who's
boss. That's what fuckin' is. Ya stick it up his backside, and yer his
boss. It's somethin' he needs real bad, way down deep, from a Man."

Yarrow kept working as the deputy talked.

"After a while, someone in Clifty's position starts to understand how he
can't live without it," the deputy said. "Knows he ain't a Man, knows he's
got to have a Man up his backside or he's lost."

Finally, the deputy stood up. His stiff dick, close to 9 inches long like
his son's, jutted straight out of the unzipped fly of his work trousers,
Clifton's saliva gleaming in the firelight. He stood on one side of the
still-kneeling boy, and waved his son over.

"I'll take one side of him and you take the other, Tom," he said. "We'll
set him belly down where I piled the blankets up and put his shirt on
top. Make sure to lay him down so his little stiff arm's up against his
belly."

Even though the rubber band tourniquet kept him hard, Clifton stiffened
further as he felt the strong hands lilt him into the air and carry him. He
was powerless in the hands of these Men, and it thrilled, humiliated,
embarrassed, and excited him down deep in a place he could neither analyze
nor understand.

They placed him on the log as the deputy directed.

"Tom, go over and get the bag while I adjust him here," he said. As his son
went back to retrieve it, the deputy moved Yarrow into place, his hands and
feet resting on the stumps of branches that had been cut off and sanded
smooth, his erection forced upward between the blanket covered by the
shirt. When Tom returned, the deputy reached into the bag and brought out
several leather straps and a large towel

"Okay, ya can see that there's hooks on the log," he said, casually, as if
securing a load of plywood in the bed of a pickup truck. "Ya attach these
cuffs to his wrists and ankles, and tighten 'em up. Then ya put the towel
under his chest, and then run this strap across his back and hook it up to
the other ones. Then ya tighten it up. Y'all don't want him slidin'
around. Get him good 'n tight, so the only way he can move is up toward ya
with his backside."

Tom stoked the fire again, and the light flared up and illuminated the
scene. The deputy reached back into the bag and handed a leather glove to
Tom, and they both put them on. The deputy reached back inside and
retrieved the bottle of lubricant.

"Now ya slick him up again, first one finger and then two," the deputy
continued, in the same deliberate and workmanlike manner. Clifton squirmed
and moaned under the pressure, but the deputy paid no mind. Then he stood
up, his stiff dick illuminated by firelight, and spread lubricant on it and
assumed a fucking stance in back of the boy.

"Y'all don't just shove it on in," he said to his son. "Ya see, even a
little fella like Clifty here, he's got the asshole ya think about. And
then about six inches inside, there's another one. Ya go in too fast and
you'll rip him open. So ya go slow to start with. The muscle relaxer in
that stuff will help, but y'all wanna go easy at first 'cause ya don't want
to give little Clifty anything to think about except who's boss."

The deputy carefully inserted his rod into the boy, and pushed slowly. He
stayed inside for a few seconds, and gently came all the way back out,
turning to his son and smiling. He spit into his gloved hand, and applied
it to his stiff dick, and went back inside and began to pump in and out,
slow and sure.

"No need to rush, Tom," the deputy said, building a rhythm as Yarrow began
to groan softly "Easy in, easy out. Now I'm gonna come on out in a bit,
then you can go in. But when you come up against that second ring, ya don't
keep pushin' on it, hear?"

"Sure thing, Pa," Tom answered, as he greased up his own stiff tool.

The father pulled out and motioned his son over.

"Now go on in nice and slow," he said. Tom put his dick up against the
boy's rectum and pushed inside.

"Oh yeah, Pa, that's dang nice," he said. "Dang good!"

"Now remember what I told ya, take 'er easy," the Man said. "Easy in, easy
out. Not all the way in just yet. Let Clifty get used to ya."

His father watched as Tom built up a rhythm, and then he reached over and
patted his lower back as a sign of encouragement.

"Yer doin' just right, son," he said. "Now real slow, squeeze yer way into
that second hole ."

Soon, Tom let out a low growl.

"Oh yeah, Pa, I'm in," he said. "I see what y'all mean. Hot damn!"

The deputy crouched down near Yarrow's head. He motioned to his son,
directing his attention to a couple more branch ends sticking out of the
sides of the log near Yarrow's head that had been sawed off and sanded. Tom
put his hands on them, lowering himself over the boy's back while
continuing to work in and out.

"Slow 'n easy, Tom," he said. "Got plenty a-time tonight. Slow 'n easy."

"Sure thing, Pa," his son answered, keeping up his rhythm, as Yarrow moaned
softly.

The deputy put his lips close to Yarrow's ear and spoke softly.

"Deputy Tom here is gonna be a junior in high school this fall, and you'll
be a second-year at that military school," he said. His voice was low and
firm, barely above a whisper, but the three of them could hear. "Tom's
already a Man, but you'll never be a Man. Y'all will take care a-that Man
just you take care of the sheriff, his son, and me. Got that, little
fella?"

"Yes sir," Yarrow said, as he groaned under the assault.

As the deputy's son gradually built his rhythm, he pushing deeper inside
with each thrust, and Yarrow shifted and squirmed. Because how he was
fastened to the log, he had nowhere to move but toward the sheriff's
son. The thrusts went even deeper, the Yarrow squirmed even locking them in
a self-reinforcing motion.

"That's right, little Clifty boy," Tom said, his tone matching his
father's. By now, each thrust penetrated Yarrow's second ring, and he could
feel the younger Man's stiff dick throughout his body. He was helpless,
bound to the log, the property of the two Men.

As Tom's thrusts built, the older Deputy knelt beside the prone boy. He
poured some bourbon on his tool to sterilize it, and then he spit on it,
letting some fall on the side of Yarrow's face, which was turned toward
him. The older Man quickly stiffened to his full length. He began leaking
precum, and it blended with the spit to make a slick mixture. He put his
dick in Yarrow's mouth and began pumping, and soon the father and son's
rhythms were matching.

"Ya got a Man in each part a-ya," Tom whispered, mocking. "That's a little
Clifty boy, there ya go. There ya go. Suck my daddy's dick while I fuck ya,
little Clifty boy."

Clifton's arching was now matching Tom's fucking, thrust for thrust for
thrust. He was electrified, and he could feel his own stiff member leaking
under the pressure. The older Man's stiff dick heightened everything. He
could smell the sweat of the Men, and feel their hard organs inside him,
and as he heard their breathing quicken he knew the end was near.

At last, Tom made one thrust so deep that Clifton thought he would split
apart. He could feel his insides turn to liquid, and then his throat
filling up. And his own orgasm came, and the three moved as if they were
one.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, ohhhhhh yeah!" the older Man said, as Clifton swallowed
furiously.

"Ah, ah, ah ... fuck yeah!" his son exclaimed. "Fuck yeah. Oh fuck yeah!"

The older Man pulled his slick hard-on, still squirting, out of Clifton's
throat and filled his hand with his own semen, and then rubbed it into the
prone boy's hair, saving some to spread onto his mouth and around his
nostrils. Tom had collapsed on Yarrow's back, still plugged in all the way,
breathing hard. Clifton lay panting and moaning.

"When yer ready, ease yerself outta there nice and easy, Tom," the older
Deputy said, between breaths. "Nothin' too sudden. Easy does it."

Slowly, Tom pulled out, and stood up. His father did likewise. He fastened
his trousers, leaving the fly open and his dick hanging out, and his son
followed suit. Yarrow lay on the log, panting. The older Man knelt back
down, and gently rubbed Clifton's lower back. He reached over to the tool
bag, brought out a towel, dabbed at the boy's rectum, and looked.

"Ya did good tonight, little fella," he said, in a warm tone. "Ya take it
easy now. Ya done real good, little Clifty. Everything's alright. No Man
worth bein' called a Man will let harm come to his boy. Everything's gonna
be alright."