Date: Sat, 10 Nov 2012 19:55:38 -0500 (EST)
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: The Mule-Driver

			      THE MULE-DRIVER
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     I sat on the buckboard of the wagon next to Chet, the mule-driver, as
we made our slow way down the mountain trail, the mules having an easy time
of things at the moment, the descent was so sharp at this point that the
driver had to keep a steady heavy pressure on the brakes. Now and then, the
wagon threatened to turn ass-end first on the trail, each time, the driver
caught and compensated for it and it went slowly back to straight.
     I had to admit, I'd never have thought the job of a mule-driver would
be so damned tough! You sit on a wagon on your ass and drive the mule team,
that's all there is to it. Or so I'd thought. I should have realized there
was a reason that Chet was such a powerfully strong man. If anybody could
drive a mule-train, everyone would be doing it. Chet didn't do anything
else, making trips up and down the mountain, a three-day trip, doing it
once a week. He had twelve mules, but unless he had a hellaciously heavy
load, he only used four of them at a time, keeping the other two teams of
four mules at the endpoints of his journey, letting his mules work one leg
of the trip, then changing them for another team-of-four for the return
leg. Two three-day trips each week let him take off on Sundays, which he
timed for the town of Barton City at the foot of the mountains, and return
for his next load on Wednesday. He ferried down the silver ore we were
mining up in our camp, The Silver Sadie, and ferried back up the supplies
we needed. He kept this up from the time the snows melted enough to let him
up the mountain in April until they closed the trails on him again in
October. Once, about six years ago, he'd tried for one more load too many,
and had been trapped up in Silver Sadie with us miners all winter long. But
October was barely started, the trails should stay open to wagons for at
least another two-three weeks. A good thing, for I was planning to ride
back up with him after a week in Barton City.
     My eighteenth birthday present, that's what this trip was, and it was
a trip with a goal. I was burdened with two months' worth of silver my
father had mined out of our claim, and I was to exchange it for a week's
stay courtesy of a hotel, and a night's attentions of a beautiful lady
courtesy of Emma's Bawdy House. The house had been Chet's idea, once he'd
learned my father's intention to give me, his eldest son, the gift of the
loss of my virginity for my new-found manhood. "Make a man out of him." my
father kept saying.
     "Emma's will do it." Chet had replied each time Father had mentioned
it. I'd usually just mumbled or blushed, or both. Chet had seen this
reaction of mine once and elaborated. "Emma will know how to treat you
right, Douglas, don't worry. You just ask her to pick you out a nice girl
and she'll do the choosing, you won't have to. She's always known just the
girl for me, I know."
     I had a sudden flash of Chet in bed with one of these "easy women,"
their bare bodies convulsed in passion, and had a sudden, rampant erection
and I bowed over and beat a hasty retreat. From the sound of Chet's laugh,
he'd seen the tenting of my pantaloons before I could bend over.
     I'd expected him to taunt me on the ride down the mountain and had
braced myself for days of his bawdy rough, foul-language-laced tongue, but
it turned out that Chet loved the silence save for his rough, loud commands
to the mules. He worked in simple harmony with the wagon and his team, and
I learned a lot about wagon-craft and mule's ways by observing him.
     For myself, I was left alone with my thoughts, and they were
uncomfortable things. You must realized that I and my father had been in
the camps ever since I was eight years old, and the camps were all-male
save for a single woman who had lived among the men for two years when I
was ten and eleven, a filthy, ugly woman who earned money by selling her
body, flabby and unkempt as it was, to the men of the camp until the second
winter caught her with a consumption that carried her off. Besides her
foul, dirty face, with the pendulous breasts she flashed now and then when
she was deep in her cups, but all her body had aroused in me was an
aversion. My father assured me that not all women were as nasty as she had
been when I'd asked, so my attitude to my journey was less one of
passionate anxiousness as a more serious resolve to get it over with.
     With my virginity firmly relinquished into the arms of one of those
women, I could hold my head up among the men of the camp and return to my
usual ways of pleasuring myself at night in my bedroll where my vaguely
formless, vaguely familiar fantasy lover held me warm and safe in strong
arms and a smell of musky sweat that I had once smelled and couldn't recall
where, but it was everything my own passion desired.
     When the sun touched the treetops on the horizon still below us, Chet
said, "We'd better make camp for the night. There's a spot up ahead, a
small spring, where I like to camp when I'm on the downhill grade."
     I merely nodded. As you can tell, I wasn't that anxious to lose my
virginity, which was appearing to be more and more of a chore the more I
considered it. Oh, I knew what I was to do (my father had screwed up his
courage and told me how it was done some four years before), but I still
equated women with that ugly Maggie the Hag with her rucksack breasts
covered with cellulite wrinkles and bloated, sometimes broken, blue lines
of veins.
     I distracted myself by watching Chet fix up the camp. I'd offered to
help but he'd waved it off, beyond asking me to fetch a bucket of water
from the spring which I'd done. There was a circle of stones for a cookfire
already there from Chet's previous stops, and his every movement said he'd
done it all a hundred times before and knew just where he wanted everything
and how.
     He dumped some blocks of dried meat into the pot of water which he'd
gotten boiling on the fire, and then stood up and stripped off his vest and
shirt, then peeled down the top of his union suit, leaving his upper body
bare. The night was too cool for bare flesh this high up already, and I
wondered at it as I stared at him. The brown of his hair on his head was
darker on his chest, but the hairs were widely spaced about, visible only
as short black lines upon his form. They were thicker on his forearms,
forming near-bands upon his wrists.
     Chet saw me staring and said, "Worked up a hell of a sweat today. Got
to wash it off or I'll be itchy and break into a rash."
     I nodded, quietly, as he wielded a rag, dunked in the water still in
the bucket, and ran it over his body. The water caught the gleam of the
fire and turned his body into a shining glory of male nobility. I could see
with the water how the individual muscles of his chest and stomach flexed
and moved as he worked the rag, and again I had the flash-image of his body
completely bare in the arms of a girl at Emma's, and again felt my cock
throb urgently. The night's bedroll couldn't come too soon for me.
     Chet saw me watching him bathe and he bent over and caught up his
shirt and tossed it to me. "Fetch me a new one out of my bindle." he
commanded. "I've worn that one for two days, time to change it for a fresh
one."
     I picked up the shirt where it had landed near me and held it up, and
caught a whiff of his sweat. As I moved toward the wagon where his personal
possessions rode in his "bindle," a small box under the seat and shielded
from him by the wagon, I dug my nose into the shirt and inhaled deeply,
confirming my suspicions.
     That musky sweat I'd smelled once and been desiring ever since...I'd
smelled it on Chet. The combination of human sweat and the smell of mules
who rub their own body aromas onto a man who handles them, the leather of
the reins lending their faint accent... My fantasy lover had a form now. It
was Chet!
     God, now what was I supposed to do?
     In the bindle, I saw he had another union suit inside, and that gave
me an opening. "Chet, you want a fresh pair of underwear, too?"
     "Not tonight." Chet clarified. "The clean suit is for when we get to
Barton City, I'll shower up and dress in all clean clothes, and hit the
town. Hell, you and me can go to Emma's together."
     "I wasn't thinking of going there the first night." I hedged.
     "Emma's closed on Sundays." Chet said. "City ordinance. You don't hit
her Saturday evening, you'll have to wait until Monday."
     "I was thinking about Monday or Tuesday." I agreed.
     "I'll be leaving Monday." Chet went on. "Guess I'll just have to point
out the place to you, and let you handle things by yourself."
     "Maybe." I agreed.
     Chet picked up on my hesitation. "Having second thoughts, kid?" he
asked me, sympathetically.
     "Just...." I grimaced and shrugged. "This all seems so...planned out
and deliberate."
     "Whorehouses are like that."
     "Chet." I said with sudden determination. "How do you find yourself a
girl...the regular way?"
     "You have to get to know them first." Chet stated. "Then when the time
is right, you have to make your move." He finished with his bath, and
walked over to sit down by the fire. "The fire feels good right now. Maybe
I ought to change into that clean union suit tonight after all. It's going
to be stiff with sweat. Not looking forward to buttoning it up."
     "Why don't you wash it out in the spring and hang it up to dry." I
suggested. "Should be dry by morning."
     "Maybe I should." Chet agreed. "But the weather's too cold for the
bedroll without my drawers on."
     "You could share mine with me and we could put yours over both of us."
I went on, a tinge of desperation in my tone. "I wouldn't mind."
     "I'll think about it." Chet said. "The meat should be about
ready. Let's eat."
     "Sure." I said and began mentally kicking myself. Real subtle,
Douglas, why not ask him to strip down and do a dance for me like those
girls at Emma's are supposed to do for the men waiting to go upstairs?
     As we finished eating, I ventured to raise the subject again. "Chet,
you said to make a move on the girl when the time was right. What kind of
moves?"
     "Depends on the circumstances." He and I were sitting side-by-side on
our blankets with the bedrolls forming an impromptu backrest.
     "Say me and the girl were sitting side by side, like we are." I went
on.
     "You might reach over and touch her, see if she pulls away or squirms
or squeals." Chet said.
     "Touch her where, and how?"
     "You might rest your hand on her leg, sort of accidental-like, like
you aren't noticing you're doing it, while you look into her eyes and talk
to her."
     I don't know where I got the courage, maybe it was the fact that Chet
still hadn't covered his upper body, his chest still shone in the firelight
with a dimly golden gleam. So I leaned in and looked into his eyes while my
hand landed on his leg. "Like this?"
     I hadn't known how Chet would react, but he simply smiled and said,
"Yeah, that'll do it for a starter. If the girl likes you, she'll smile and
you can move your hand about some."
     "Like this?" I began to move my hand back and forth.
     "Not too high up, not at first." Chet corrected me when I ventured
near his crotch. "If you want to keep exploring and the girl lets you, you
should move to touching her upper body."
     "I was wondering how I'd get up there. I just move my hand right up?"
I illustrated by moving my hand up to his chest and cupping one ample
breast.
     "That'll work." Chet said. "If the girl lets you play with her breasts
like this, then you'll be certain to be allowed to have relations with
her."
     "While I play like this?" I asked as I fondled his nipples, squeezing
and playing with them, touching them every way I could think of, and Chet
seemed to like all of it.
     "So what do I do after I've played with them a while?" I panted.
     "You could try kissing her." Chet was out of breath himself, now.
     I leaned over and Chet's big arms came around me as mine encircled his
waist. Our lips met and I found myself being kissed more than kissing
him. One of his hands on my back was sliding down inside my belt and pants
and onto my buttocks. I wore a union suit the same as Chet but the feel of
his hand so close to my skin caused me to shiver in expectation.
     His lips left mine and began to kiss on my neck. I felt the velvety
caress of them on my skin and I wanted them all over me, all over!
     "You really ought to...wash out your union suit tonight." I gasped.
     "I was thinking about that." Chet said. "I can wear my clean one
tomorrow. If I wash it out tomorrow morning, I can have it dry by the day
after. In time to wear at Emma's on Saturday evening."
     I heard only that he was going to take off the union suit. "So why not
take it off now and we can cover ourselves with both bedrolls and stay warm
all night long?"
     "If I'm going to get naked in bed, I think you ought to do it, too."
Chet said. "That's only fair, isn't it?"
     "More than fair." I panted.
     We broke our hold on each other and I fought myself free of my
clothing, moving with a haste that threatened to tear my clothes
asunder. The mules I found were watching me with what felt like
amusement. A mule has no sex other than in its own mind, so I said to them,
"You can laugh if you want. You don't have the problem of wearing clothes!"
     Chet's chuckle was warm behind me. "Mules are the only animals that
never become friends with you. A dog will, a cat will, a horse will, but
never a mule. It's why I like to drive them, I can use the whip if I have
to and not feel like I'm betraying a trust."
     I was down to my union suit, which has a hundred buttons to undo it
felt like. I was doing that as I turned around.
     Chet was now fully naked. The flickering firelight made him appear
like a god in human form, the figures I'd seen in books other men in the
camp had, books of mythology, he looked as those figures, the
quintessential beauty of those men and women, perfection of forms. I had
looked at them and thought of them as only figments of some artist's
fertile imagination...but now I was looking upon the reality.
     I shook myself and began to fight my own union suit off of me, peeling
myself like a gigantic banana. When I was bare, I straightened back up, and
Chet was right there, and he took me in his arms and pulled me to him and I
felt something hard strike me on my lower stomach. I didn't recognize at
first, I'd been too dazzled at his entire body to study any one detail. But
then he shuffled in even closer and I realized that the hard thing on my
stomach was his penis. Hard, but soft-velvet covered, and warm, so warm.
     My own prick was sliding between Chet's legs and he spread them
briefly to let his thighs clamp upon my erection, pinning me into
place. The feel of that warmth holding my cock was enough to drive me to
distraction and beyond. My father's instructions were present in my mind
but unneeded, my body knew what to do.
     I began to bob my body back and forth and my prick slid back and forth
between Chet's thighs. I moaned and he grunted in return and began to use
my own motions to rub his own dick back and forth upon my stomach. So good,
yeah, so good!
     I caught hold of Chet's midriff and I pulled him to me hard and I
began to work my body in a different way, now I was out to give him the
pleasure of my body, to make his cock quiver and delight his mind.
     "Ah, ah, damn, boy!" Chet groaned after a few moments of this. "You're
getting me ready to shoot and we haven't even gotten to the main action
yet. Let's get us those bedrolls laid out."
     By working together, we had them out in no time, one below and one
above and us sandwiched warmly in between. A good thing for the fire was
beginning die down now, not out by any means, but it would be in another
half hour if we didn't feed it before then.
     But I didn't care about that, I had Chet on top of me, in my arms,
kissing him again and feeling that hard dong of his rubbing right on top of
mine, now. Oh, the exquisite delight that fed into my very soul! I'd never
again be satisfied with the pleasures of my own hand, from now on, I'd seek
out other male companions to share as we were sharing.
     But Chet had other plans. He had gone to his bindle box while I was
untying the bedrolls but I hadn't noticed what he was doing then, but now I
could see. In his hand he bore a small bottle, and I looked at him
inquiringly.
     "A bit of grease for my flagpole." he explained to me. "You're going
to want it, I think."
     I nodded, though I didn't understand, as he raised up to free both
hands, the upper bedroll falling back as he did so and the chill night air
bit my nipples. But I bore it as I watched him smear a goodly amount upon
his dong, and then to my relief, he brought the bedroll back up over him as
he laid himself down upon me once more.
     Only now he had worked himself so that both his legs were inside of
mine, and he scooted downwards some as well. I didn't understand as he
brought his hands down to grasp my own legs and lift them up to surround
him, and then his cockhead began to probe at my tender nether regions and I
understood. He intended to penetrate my body down there with his
maleness. And in that moment, I couldn't deny him anything.
     The pain of his entrance was sharp at first, and he winced in sympathy
as he pushed into me. "Sorry about the hurting." he said succintly. "But
it's got to be done." And he continued until the entire length of it was
within me.
     "Now." he said to me, his breath coming short on him so that his words
became clipped-sounded. "You get yourself used to this a while, and then
I'll give you a ride like none you've ever had before."
     I didn't know how I was supposed to get used to this, but after a time
I understood, for my body gave a sort of gurgling feeling in my lowest
bowels and the constriction ceased as my muscles stopped fighting this
intruder into my anus. Chet must have felt it happen, for he smiled at me
and then he began to move. And the magic began.
     I'd not expected any of this, but this was the most unexpected. My
body not only tolerated this invasion of my body, but more, there was a
part of myself that relished the visitor, that was rubbed as he moved back
and forth and ever movement won from me a joy I thought had been reserved
exclusively for my own erections. Now I knew why women would lie back and
let men use their bodies in the whorehouses over and over again, and kick
up their heels in dance between-times, now I knew how much joy resided in
their lives. For I had it in my own now. I had my man, and he was making
love to me, and my own joy was unbounded and unencompassed, I was indeed
riding this pleasure to a height I had never experienced before.
     Chet was moving faster now, his strong body that had moved all day in
perfect synchronization to the mules pulling the wagon, now moved in
perfect harmony with my own body's delights, for as he moved I felt my joy
rising up within me and building up like a teakettle builds up pressure
until it whistles in steamy excitement.
     Our sounds of joy were the only sounds in that night, the mules were
silently observing, the very crickets had gone to their winter's rest, the
birds were asleep in a mute contemplation of their migrations or their
winter privations about to beset them, nowhere around us was anything
moving, not even the wind, but the two of us and the only sounds were our
voices moaning together in rising glory.
     I clawed at Chet's back as my own joy began to reach its crescendo,
digging my nails into his flesh and he moaned, then threw back his head and
howled and as he did, I felt the hot flood of his ecstasy pouring into my
body, and my own body felt this, understood it, and my own climax overtook
me.
     "Ah, ah, oh, God, Douglas, God, ah, AH-HAH-AHHHHHHH!" cried out Chet.
     "Uh, uh, uh, huh, HUH-HAHHHHHHHHH!" I reacted, and my cock sprayed
both of us liberally, my hot ejaculate pelting his stomach and raining upon
my chest and filling my navel like a miniature puddle, and Chet's seed was
hot and rich within my bowels, and his prod drove in and out of that
powerful mixture, churning it into a froth that sizzled my innards and made
me shake in an orgasm that went on and on and on!
     "Ah, ah, uh, uh, uh-huh, uh, uhhhhhh!" Chet moaned and his body
relaxed down upon me, no longer moving, his sweaty, heavy, strong form
pressing upon me like a vise, squashing me out completely flat. And in that
compression my own joy faded out and I was limp and unresisting under him
as he gasped for renewed breath, recovered enough to move feebly off of me
to lie beside me, his arm and leg remaining to keep possession of me within
the warmth of those bedrolls, mine and his, the two working together to
keep us warm.
     "Oh, damn, Douglas, you're a natural at this!" Chet groaned. "I've
fucked other men, but they all yelled and moaned and complained. You really
liked me porking you, didn't you?"
     "Yeah, yeah." I groaned. "So good. It felt great!"
     "Good to hear it." Chet sighed. "Now you and me had better get some
sleep, for we still have to get you into town and let one of Emma's girls
make a man out of you."
     I didn't argue about that, but as Chet sighe and fell into slumber
beside me, I lay awake and watched the slow procession of the stars across
the skies for over an hour before sleep claimed me as well.
     Chet and I made love again just before dawn, and then we got up and
resumed the downhill journey. Another night upon the trail, but the night
after that would bring us to Barton City and the hotel where I'd be
staying.
     Chet didn't patronize Emma's on Saturday night, he stayed that night
and all day Sunday with me as well, and when Monday morning approached, I
broached my plans for him.
     Chet usually stops his travels in the mountains by the middle of
October. But if I have my way, he'll make one last trip this year, just
before the snow closes in and locks our camp in until early April. And
it'll lock Chet in with us like it had once, so long before.
     If it does, Chet will spend the winter with me and Dad, sharing my bed
all night and all day, all winter long.
     As for me, I'm going to start learning how to be a mule-driver like
Chet. Two wagons can haul twice as much as one, after all.

				  THE END
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