Date: Wed, 12 Dec 2018 19:30:45 +0000 From: Vincent Dirk Subject: Ollie Goes West, Chapter I DISCLAIMER: this story is fiction and original. It is part of an on-going story with other chapters to be included. The characters are based on western movies and books I've came in contact with. It is pure fantasy and it includes gay male erotica. All of the content is original. All names, places and all the stuff came from my mind and if there's any resemblance to something you know of is pure coincidential. If you're under 18, please leave. If that's not your case, enjoy it. All the standard legal requirements, ramifications, and warnings apply. My e-mail for contact is vincent.dirk@outlook.com . Please come and give me some feedback and some chatting is also welcomed! OLLIE GOES WEST, by Vincent Dirk CHAPTER 01: Mr. Puppleton's Arrival The stagecoach they were in was as hot as one small, closed space could ever be. They had been riding through the desert for hours now and inside of that tight place, it felt like a goddamn sauna. Oliver Puppleton, who was sat between his Uncle Stefan and another man, dressed as a cowboy, took a small handkerchief out of his pocket and tried to dry the sweat out of his neck. He sighed. He was sure there was another couple of hours to go but it was hard to tell since there was no point in looking outside the stagecoach – all was the same in that goddamn desert. Oliver, who had turned 21 just one month ago, was a boy wonder. He had been sent by his parents to the best schools and than a college. His degree in Law came easier than he ever suspected possible. He was a prodigy. He was also a handsome young lad, grown to the ways of the East. Fair skin, fragile, red lips and brown eyes. Brown like the color of his hair. He was lean, boyish even. Not one hair on his pretty face. And he was sent to the West to make a fortune. His widowed father was now living in the East, in Boston, having a nice life. Enjoying the cold days of Autumn probably. But his order was clear. "Go west." He said. "Make your own life and then come back to me as a grown man." Now, Uncle Stefan was a good old sport. Single in his 45th year on Earth, he decided to follow his only and dearest nephew to West. He knew the ways of the land and he would most definitely protect the young man. They had been together since Ollie was a young lad in Boston. And Stefan was the one who watched the boy grow into a man. A handsome man. One that kept his dick hard sometimes at night. But nothing that a good prayer wouldn't help resolving anyway. The other three on that small stagecoach were people from the surroundings. A cowboy, sitting next to Oliver, who looked like he was on his 30s. An old widow wearing all black and praying out loud the whole time. And a gentleman. Also a lawyer, but much older and wiser by the looks of it. He was sent by Big C's order. And after two or three hours exchanging experiences with the young lawyer on the car, he gave up and went to sleep. "Uncle, are we still very far?" Oliver asked, cleaning sweat now over his forehead. "I doubt it, my boy. I doubt it. Besides, it is almost night. For what they've told us back in the city, it is no good to be on the road at night. Lots of bandits and Indians around." "Oh, my dear Lord will protect us, Sir. I've been praying for that." The abrupt way the car stopped almost made Oliver fall between the older lawyer's legs. In fact, he was down on his knees as his Uncle looked outside. "What's happening?" The older lawyer asked, not daring to move that pretty boy face away from his crotch. The lady started to pray even harder. And the cowboy was the first to make them all shush. "Garrett." He whispered. And as if the pronouncing of that name meant something, they heard a noise outside. A gun was shot. And men were screaming. "Dear God." The woman cried. "Shhhh." The cowboy asked. They stayed in silence as they heard the men that were driving the stagecoach take all of their stuff out. The bags were open, ripen apart or whatever. The bad guys out there were laughing and making fun. Time seemed to passed but nobody wanted to move. Not even Ollie, who was still on his knees right there, close to the lawyer's growing crotch. When the door opened, the bad guy with a cloth over his face saw exactly that. And he gave a loud shout as he pointed the gun to them. "Everyone out. We need to check what y'all been hidin'." The cowboy got down. And he helped the lady. The bandit looked in. "It's no time for funny games, boy. Stop sucking that old man and come down here." Oliver was pulled by his fancy suit, thrown to the ground. The man pointed the gun to him. "Couldn't wait to get to the saloon to join yer fellow whores, now, did ya?" Uncle Stefan crawled out of the stagecoach. His face was red. He was torn between fear and anger. "Now you listen up here. You might take our things, but I find it unnecessary to humiliate us like this." No one was saying anything. They were all in line, except Ollie, who was kneeling on the dirt desert ground. He was looking up, his heart beating so fast. These were Men of the West. He had read things about them. About what was happening in the far West. "Uncle, please." He tried to get up. But the man with the gun laughed, pointing the gun back at him. "Oh, Uncle is trying to protect you? Why? Are you an expensive whore?" "Please." Ollie tried to say, even though all the other men around him was laughing at their leader's words. "Please?" The man with a covered face looked at his agents. "Now, y'all can clean these bastards. Me? I'll play with our golden whore here. And you watch it, Uncle." Everyone was watching. There was no need to ask. The order the man gave Ollie was simple. Take it all off. And one piece a time, under the point of that stupid gun, he got naked. Completely naked. And he stood there, wanting to cover himself at least with his own hands. But the bandit wanted something else. The man holding the gun was quite the opposite of that fair skinned boy standing up naked with trembling legs. The armed man was around his forties, maybe. He wore a cowboy hat and cowboy's boots. Leather. Brown leather that fitted the color of what he wore over his own trousers. His white shirt was once supposed to be clean but now looked all yellow. It was open and Ollie could see he had a hairy chest. He too was white, but his skin was slightly tanned thanks to the desert heat. And he had piercing blue eyes that stared into our young hero. "Stay still or your uncle gets shot." At the man's words, someone pointed a gun to his Uncle Stefan, who closed his eyes at once. "Please, no, Sir. Let us go." "Now why would I do that?" The man came closer and closer, walking in circles around Ollie, always closing the distance between them until he finally put his hands on the boy's ass. The touch was warm. Ollie shrugged. He had never been touched there. He had never been touched. It embarrassed him how his cock was up so fast as a middle finger found a way on his crack. "Soft like a whore." The man spanked him before putting the gun on that crack. Now the feeling he got was cold. Steel cold. The man stepped back. "I might visit you on town when you start working with the whores." The man said that so close to his ear that Ollie gasped, feeling his body being touched from behind. The man stepped back. "Now y'all gonna count till ten. Someone knows how to do that? Good. To ten. And then y'all enter the stagecoach. You, boy, will be the first. Make sure you let us all see that ass of yours." Ollie was aware that everyone was looking at him. At his direction. Even the old widow lady. Even her. He started to walk and got inside that little sauna they called their own. Than Uncle Stefan. Then the lawyer. Than the lady. The cowboy was the last to hop in, closing the door. They were all sat. A shout outside and the car was moving again. They were free. But without anything to hold on for. "Could you please cover yourself, my boy?" The widow looked at him with an ugly face. Uncle Stefan took his jacket off immediately. "I'm sorry madam. As you noticed, we were all robed of all our things." Uncle Stefan threw his jacket over the boy's body, but Ollie was looking at the old lawyer, who watched him with a nasty smile on that old face. Strangely enough, that only made it hard for his hard on to go away. The rest of the trip went nice. The same lady praying. The cowboy and Uncle Stefan sleeping. And Ollie being constantly watched by an old lawyer who was touching himself all the time. The continuous attention made his cock hurt with how hard it felt. But he didn't ask the man to stop. Somehow, that gaze was quite hot. It was turning him on. And the stagecoach got to the center of the little village half past six. The sun was down back in the hills and one by one they went out of it. Uncle Stefan touched Ollie's leg and asked him to stay. At least until the police arrived. And the sheriff did arrive ten minutes later. He was a 48-year-old man with a big cowboy hat and a big belly that barely fitted his trousers. He had thick black hair all over his face and head and he had a very nice and warm smile. A gun on his belt was barely noticed. And Ollie only got to see that all when they opened the door and the sheriff smiled up inside the stagecoach. "I've heard the most unnatural story about you my boy. Unfortunately, I better say now, welcome to the West. Now come with me." And turning to the people outside, he shouted. "Now everyone mind your own business. Go on, y'all I've talked to are free to leave too. Shosh." Oliver crawled out of the stagecoach wearing his uncle's jacket. It barely hit his goods but he made sure he was as proper as he could be. Outside, his uncle, a priest and a cowboy were looking at him. "I'm Sheriff Talbot, ma boy. This is Father John, he is a nice fella. That one over there is mah friend Jack Sundance. He is here to help too. Now, we could go to the station, but you'd have to walk a lot. Our Father John offered his humble place for us to talk and he has clothes you can wear. Shall we enter?" One by one, the men got into the house that was just ahead. Ollie could notice the cross on the door as he entered. But other than that, not much else. He was a bit soft by now. Calmer even. But all those men around him were enough to make his cock start growing back. Father John closed the door and asked people to sit. Everyone except Ollie and Sundance sat. Father John looked at them. A smile on his face as his eyes met Ollie's. "Oh, should I get y'all some coffee?" "Yes, please, blessed be, Father." The sheriff said and the old man went out. Now Ollie's eyes met Sundance's. A big cowboy that fitted well on his clothes. He had taken his hat off that showed his graying hair and let Ollie see his face better. He looked as big as a bear and he too had a little gut hidden under his plaid shirt, even though he looked fit and strong. That sight only made his cock stand on attention again. "Now, mr. Puppleton. We heard from yer uncle that yer a lawyer from the big city. That ye came cause your daddy knows some folks and sent ye `ere. Is that so?" Oliver nod. "Now don't be shy. Yer between men now." "The man that attacked y'all was a man named Garrett. H'is a dirty motherfucker who's always around. Ye can bet. Still, there's nothing we can do bout him. Maybe our friend here, mr. Sundance, maybe him. But..." He shrugged. Sundance barely looked at his direction. He had eyes on young Oliver. "Now we can't get yer clothes back. But we will make you some new for this week even. We get you some of our stuff and you get on going, knowing people in the city. Y'll be good if you keep yerself around nice people. Am I right, Father?" The priest, an old man about his 60s, came in. He wore black, but his white hair and beard kept the contrast intact. He was a big brawl too, big hands and big belly and had a soothing smile. He patted Oliver's shoulder. "Take that coat off my boy. And follow me. I'll get you a nice thing to wear." "Father, go take some clothes for him. Mr. Puppleton can wait here with us." The voice of Sundance was so strong and rough that nobody would ever discuss with him. Oliver was sure of it. And the priest was quick to leave, taking Stefan's jacket with him, leaving Oliver naked under the eyes of all those men. Naked and hard. "Ah, yes, to be young. Strong and healthy. I was once as hard as yer are right now. It was easy to be like that." The sheriff and his uncle Stefan laughed, but Ollie was looking at Sundance. Something on him. Something. It felt as if he wanted to be his. Yes. There was no question on that. He wanted to be touched like he was touched in the desert by that man. He wanted his big strong hands on his ass, his body. He wanted to know what he smelt like. He wanted with all his being. And Sundance had such a face that Ollie could not read. He didn't know why the man was staring at him. He wanted to know but there was not one sign there that could tell. The priest was back with clothes and he handled it to Ollie. "What a nice healthy boy we have here." He added.