Date: Sat, 19 Feb 2005 09:59:15 -0800 (PST)
From: Sin Titulo <sintitulo2@yahoo.com>
Subject: Life Boat IV

Life Boat IV
by
Sin Titulo

	By the time we graduated that Spring, the four of us
had become fast friends.  We'd made vows to stay in
touch no matter where we al ended up in life.  But
unfortunately, all those vows of friendship and love
were for naught.  Life intervened and put distance
between us all, and Viet Nam loomed on the horrizon
for Tony and Reese.  Tony came back after two tours
alone.  We never found out what happened to Reese.
His name is now one of thousands on the black memorial
wall in Washington D.C. where it brings tears to my
eyes everytime I visit it.  Tony came back a change
person, and we never really had much in common after
he returned.  After we split up that Summer, Jim to
Texas, to get settled at Texas A&M before school
started.   He had a minor Baseball career at A&M, and
was recruted into the minor league but never advanced
beyond that. I bought a battered old '49 flathead
Ford, and spent the warm summer months in the Rockies
painting and drawing and generally working on my
skills.  I had one encounter that Summer that still
comes to mind.
	My angels who had put up the funds for me to go to
college, were introduced to me by Mrs. N and her
husband at a dinner party they gave in my honor.  The
couple Mr. and Mrs L., were Jewish.  Their only son
had been planning to go to Princeton and had been
accepted.  They had given him a new car to drive back
to New Jersey, to school.  Along the way, he
apparently fell asleep at the wheel, and didn't
survive the crash.  They were devistated, but were
glad to put the education fund they had created for
their boy David, at my disposal.  It was enought to
pay for my school fees, and any books and materials.
The school I chose to attend, and had been accepted
at, had offered me a job as a floor monitor in the new
dormatory they were building on campus.  I was due to
report to work a week before the actual start of
classes for orientation and to get settled in before
the other students would begin to arrive.  That gave
me seven weeks to myself and the freedom to draw and
paint in the mountains.
	I would get up early, usually before dawn, and head
for the hills.  Once there, I liked to look for
backroads I'd never taken , and spend the day either
looking for likely landscapes to paint, or just
exploring.  It was on just such a morning that I met
Mr. T.  I'd followed a dirt road for several miles
along the front range headed south from Denver.  The
rocky formations were looking promising, when I came
to a barbwire gate across the road that was hung with
a posted sign.
	Frustrated, I sat there for a while trying to decide
what to do.  Finally, I concluded that if I went
through the gate and got caught, I had a good excuse
with my painting equipment and sketchbooks filled with
drawings.  I got out and lifted the top loop of wire
over the post and laid the wire gate down on the
ground.  I drove through, and then got out and closed
the gate again.  I knew the biggest sin in cow country
was to leave a gate open.  Another few minutes on the
road, and I turned a curve and there in front of me
was a ranch house nestled into the rocks.  I pulled
into the yard in front of the place, thinking I would
ask permission if anyone was home.  As I got out of my
Ford, the door of the house opened, and a real working
cowboy stepped out onto the front porch.  He was tall,
nearly matching my six four height.  He was wearing a
pearl snap button shirt faded from the sun to a pale
pink.  I could see under the arms and where the collar
had protected the cloth from the sun's rays, it had
once been red instead of the pale color it now was.
His faded levis where tight and worn to threads in
several places, and his beaten up boots looked like
they spent their life standing in cow shit.  He walked
across the yard to where I was standing, his rolling
gate marked a true horseman.
	"You see the posted sign?"  His voice was soft
spoken, and not unkind.
	"Yes sir.   I did."
	"'Spect you left the gate open; yeah?"  He stuck his
thumbs through the beltloops of his levis.  His thin
waist was chinched in a beaten up brown leather belt
with a Navajo sandcast buckle in pure silver.  As he
got closer, I could see he had a band of white skin
across his otherwise ruddy forehead from wearing a hat
all day.  His blue eyes were steady on me, as he
assessed what the day had brought onto his property.
He looked to be about forty.
	"No sir.  I shut it behind me."
	"Well, that's sompthin'.  What can I do for you?"  I
quickly explained why I had come onto his property.
He wanted to see some evidence of what I said being
true.  I pulled out my best sketchbook, and he stood
there silently flipping through the pages.  Once in a
while, he'd comment that he knew that rock or those
trees, or that peak.  He seemed to like looking at the
drawings, and spent a little time looking carefully
throught the complete book.  When he finished, he
handed it back to me, scratched his head and looked
down at his feet for a moment.
	"I run about six hunnert head of cattle back in here.
 They're all spread out now, and they can be people
shy.  Never know how one of the bastards will react to
a man on foot.  I let you go back in there you might
get hurt."  He had removed his thumbs from the belt
loops, and had fished out a sack of Bull Durahm, a
packet of cigarette papers and was rolling himself a
smoke.  He licked the edge of the filled paper, and
rolled his cigarette, and finished rolling it with his
right hand while he stuffed the tobacco sack back in
his shirt pocket.  He took out a box of matches and
struck one, lighting his cigarette.  All the time he
was doing this, I could see he was thinking about me.
I kept quiet.
	"How old are you son?"  He finally blew out a cloud
of smoke and asked.
	"I turned eighteen in January sir.  Are you going to
let me go back there and do some painting?"
	"Thinkin' about it. . .What would you give me if I
did let you?  Ain't nothin'free in this world."  He
took another drag on his smoke, and looked off into
the distance.  Somewhere a cow bellowed.  He glanced
toward the sound, and with his cigarette dangling from
his lip, he hooked his thumbs back into his belt
loops.  I thought for a moment wondering what I had
that he might want.  I knew what I wanted to offer,
but wondered if he'd take it badly and kick me off his
property if not punching me out for suggesting it.
	"Well son?"  He was looking at me again.
	"I don't have much to give.  How about a blow job?"
I grinned at him hoping he'd take it the way I
intended.
	"Jeesus Christ!"  His voice went up an octave, and he
turned sideways to me and looked back down the road.
the way I had come.  I figured he was about to send me
packing.
	"Or maybe a drawing of something you like on your
property."  I hugged my sketchbook to my chest, and he
looked back at me again.  He had a glint in his eye,
and I could tell he was thinking again.  He took a
drag.
	" 'Bout four miles back along this road, you'll come
to a split fork.  take the left hand trail, and in
about another mile or so you come to a shack.  That
was my granddaddy's first house he built on this ranch
back in 1889 when he first come out here from the
east.  I always wanted a paintng of it to hang in the
house here."  He pointed at the house with his chin.
I glanced at the house, and saw a woman standing in
the open door watching us talk.
	"Is that your wife?"  He turned and looked.
	"Yep.  Been married going on twenty years now. No
kids though."  He kicked the dirt with his boot, and
then looked back at me.  "You go on back in there, and
do me a painting of that ol' shack, and I'll buy it
off you when it's done."
	"Deal," I said, offering my hand.  He shook it with
his rough callused hand, and then touched his forehead
in a kind of salute, and turned away.  I turned and
put my sketchbook on the back seat of my Ford, and
climbed in behind the wheel.  He turned back halfway
to the house, and came over to the car door.
	"You keep an eye out for those damn cows; you hear?"
I nodded.  "Meybe I'll trot out to see how you're
doing later in the morning."
	"OK.  I'll do my best to have something to show you."
 He grinned, and straightend up and headed back to the
house.
	"I'll bet you will," he said under his breath so I
barely heard him.
	I started the engine, and put the Ford in gear.  He
never looked back as I pulled out of the yard, and
headed further back into his ranch.  I found the old
shack without trouble, and quickly set up my little
easel and canvas, I soon had a good start on the
painting.  I liked the scene, and after an hour of
painting steady on it decided to let it rest for a
while and do a drawing of it for my sketchbook.  I was
working on the sketch when I heard a horse
approaching.  I looked up and Mr. T. was riding a gray
gelding toward me, looking tall in the saddle, now
wearing his old straw hat.  He looked like John Wayne
to me as he rode up.  He swung his left leg over the
horse's rump, and gracefully dropped to the ground
with a spring.  He tied the reins to a shrub bush and
walked over to where I was sitting on a boulder
working.  He looked over my shoulder, and grunted.  He
then walked over to the painting on the easel, and
stood looking at it with his thumbs in his belt loops.
 Finally he turned back to me and said he liked it.
	He walked to the horse, and took a bottle out of the
saddlebag.  He opened it and took a drink.  He offered
it to me and I saw it was whiskey.  I shook my head,
and it occured to me he was here for more than to just
see how I was doing.  I closed my sketch book and
stood up.  I laid the book down on the rock I'd been
setting on, and he walked over to me, shoving the flat
bottle into the back pocket of his worn levis.
	"Been thinking about your offer this morning."  He
looked suddenly shy.
	"What?  The blow job?"  He nodded, his ears turning
red.  "I'd suck your dick any day Mr. T."  He grinned
nervously.
	"Well, I ain't no queer or nothin' but I do have my
thoughts now and then.  Always wondered about what it
might feel like having some ol' boy sucking my cock.
The ol' lady won't touch it for nothin' and it's been
a while since she put out for me."
	"Really?  A handsome guy like you and she won't fuck
you?"
	"Not no more.  Oh we used to nearly every night, but
after there weren't no kids coming along, she kind of
lost interest.  Doctor told her she was the problem,
not me, but after that she told me my big dick hurt
her too much to do it."
	His hands were hanging over his crotch, and I could
see a growing bulge there.  It looked like it was
going to be big.    I reached out and rubbed the mound
in hiis pants, and he just stood there and let me feel
him up.  He closed his eyes, as if he didn't want to
see what was happening, and I began to undo the big
Navajo buckle.  He started breathing a little heavier
as I loosened the belt and started on his fly buttons.
 I dropped to my knees in the sand, and tugged his
pants down.  He sighed a little and I looked up to see
him looking down at me, his hat shading his face so I
couldn't read his expression.
	His big cock still covered in his cotton briefs, was
laying up his left hip at an angle.  It looked to be a
good seven or eight inches, and thick as a kid's
wrist.  His balls were tight in their sack, but looked
like a good handful.  I pulled his briefs down around
the top of his pants, and his rigid cock remained hard
against his hip.  This man was horny as hell.
	"Why don't you sit on that rock there."  I pointed to
where I'd been sitting.  He hobbled over to it and
took my sketchbook off and sat down.  He carefully set
the book down leaning against the rock.  I got down
again between his knees, and examined his beautiful
cock pulsing with his heartbeat.  I took it in my
hand, and pulled it away from his stomach.  He
shivered when I touched him.
	"How long has it been since you unloaded this pistol
sir?"
	"Whew!  I cain't remember.  A month of Sundays
anyway.  I have to jack off once in a while so I don't
get blue balls."  I grinned.  He sighed again as I
began to stroke up and down his thick shaft.  "Won't
take too much of that son."
	"Then how about this?"   I leaned forward, holding
his cock in my open palm, licked up the underside of
his shaft.
	"Oh jeesus!"  He jerked under my tongue. I licked him
some more, and he gradually relaxed nd let me do my
thing.  When I got around to taking the head in my
mouth, his big work roughened hands suddenly grabbed
my head in a vice grip.  I started sucking for all I
was worth.  He started making little mewing sounds in
his throat, and it didn't take long before he grunted
and started filling my mouth with his sweet cream.  I
swallowed it down, and then slipped down over his
shaft taking as much of it into my mouth as I could
fit.  He remained hard, and never let go of my head.
	The second load I sucked out of him didn't take long
either.  He was truly a man in deep need of relief.
After I came up off his cock which was still hard
after my second helping of his cum, he sighed, and
asked me if that was all.
	"What?  You still want more?"  He grinned sheepishly
at me.  "Tell you what.  I'd like to have that big
dick of yours up my butthole.  Are you game for it?"
	"I ain't never fucked anybody there.  Won't it hurt?"
	"I've taken somebody about your size before, and it
didn't hurt as much as the smallest dick I've had in
me.  If you want, I'd love to feel you fuck me good
and hard with this thing."  I licked a drop of cum off
the piss slit that had oozed out as we talked.
	"I'm game.  Always wondered what it would feel like."
 I stood up and started stripping.  He kicked off his
boots, and bent over to pull his pants and briefs off.
 His legs were white as fleece on a sheep.  His ruddy
blood filled cock was in stark contrast to the rest of
his body.  When he took off his shirt, I could see he
had a v of suntan that ran down his chest into a
thatch of dark hair.  He took off his hat, and dropped
it on the pile of clothes he'd shed, and then looked
at me questioningly.
	"Sit back down on the rock and let me get you good
and wet.  I don't have any lube to help you get it in
except for spit."
	"Why don't we go into the shack.   There's a bunk in
there.  I sometimes hire a hand to work for me when I
round up the cattle.  This is where they stay when I
do."
	"Let's go then I want you in me bad."  The shack was
bit dusty and smelled of astringent.  The center of
the one room, had an old cast iron potbellied stove.
Next to it a wooden box, was  filled with fire wood.
Against the back wall, was a rope bed, with a thin
rolled up mattress at the foot end.  He unrolled the
mattress, and I sat down on the bed.  He stood there
waiting while I worked up a good mouthfull of spit.  I
finally took him in my mouth again, and sucked up and
down his shaft getting it good and wet.  When he was
dripping spit, I pulled off him and rolled over,
raising my ass in the sir with my knees on the bed.
He was still standing  on the floor next to the bed.
I pulled him to me by reaching through my legs, and
placed his big cock head at my hole.  He began to push
into me slowly as I relaxed my sphincter.  Once the
head was in, he slipped down into me easily.  I moaned
with the pleasure of my first fuck in weeks since my
friends had left town.  He instinctively grabbed my
hips with his callused hands and began a slow pump
action in and out of my hole.
	"Man," he moaned.  "I never thought it would feel
this good."  I tightened my muscles around him and he
groaned with pleasure.  "Ain't no pussy can do that."
He fucked me for a long time. we tried several
different positions, an finally he had me on my back
across the bed and was on his knees leaning across my
torso as he fucked me harder and harder.  After a
dozen hard strokes into my guts, he groaned and began
to whimper with pleasure.  I knew he was about to cum
third time in my body.
	He humped me hard, and then seemed to freeze into his
last hump.  His big cock began to throb inside me, and
I could feel his jetting another load of his hot cum
into my hole.  When he finished shooting his wad, he
laid his head on my chest, and took my left niple in
his mouth.  He sucked for several moments before he
finally sat up, his softening cock slipping out of my
hole as he did .
	We got dressed out in the sunshine again, and talked
a bit about the painting.  He didn't seem to want to
talk about the sex.  After a while I told him that the
painting would take several days to finish, and asked
him if he minded if I stayed in the shack until it was
done.  He grinned, and said that would be fine if he
could visit me now and then while I was there.  I told
him I'd be hurt if he didn't come to see me as often
as he could get away from his wife.
	"I'll bring you some canned goods to eat."
	"Thanks, that would be nice.  I need to ask you to
call my mother and tell her not to worry and explain
what I'm doing here.  Just tell her it would take too
ling to come and go everyday.  She'll understand."  I
wrote my home number on a scrap of sketch paper and
handed it to him.
	"Shore 'nuff."
	I hugged him, and after a moment of hesitation, he
hugged me as well.  After we broke apart, he climbed
on his gelding, and rode away.  I picked up a rag, and
wiped away the painting I'd done.  I wanted this
painting to take a while.  Some where close by a cow
bellowed, but it wasn't visible.

email: sintitulo2@yahoo.com