Drawn West

By Jim002

Jim002@outlook.com

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This story is fiction. None of the characters are based on real people.

You can see a list of my stories at the Nifty Prolific Authors page by my name.

One

I looked out the window of the general store in the small town which would be my new home. I'd just arrived from Chicago. The black hills in the Dakotas wasn't exactly the last place I wanted to be, but it was pretty darn close. It was a sight too close to where General Custer was massacred for my liking. There were very few Indian massacres in Chicago. But two different people told me how sinful the area was, with sex going on in the streets and whores handling five men at a time because there were so few women. And that sounded pretty darn wonderful to me.

I was nervously waiting for my father to arrive, and not just nervous because there were Indians in the hills. I hadn't seen my father since I was four. My only memory of him was of a man talking to me in a deep voice. I couldn't remember what he looked like and Mother had no pictures of him. I knew nothing about the man except his name and the fact that he paid for me to go to a private boy's school. He had never contacted me, not even once in my entire life. I wondered all the time what kind of man he was. Had he stuck the motherlode and was as rich as King Midas? Was he a gunfighter, or a lawman? I crossed minister off the list because Mother said he was 'no good'. I wondered all the time what that meant. Did it mean he was the kind of man who shared a whore with other men? I just hoped when I saw him, that I would recognize him. I didn't want to walk up and down the street asking every man I saw if he was my father. I didn't have to worry about that right then, because there was no one on the street. The lack of public sex was the most obvious thing to me. Of course, a foot and a half of snow on the street might be a deterrent.

I grew up with my mother, although I spent almost all my time at school. It was a boy's boarding school. The only thing Mother would say about him was that he was 'no good'. She never used any other description, either. So he wasn't rotten. He wasn't anything but 'no good'. The few times I mentioned that I wished he had sent me at least one letter, that was what I heard. He was 'no good'. End of discussion. Once, after she grew ill, I asked her how to contact him. She said all she knew was that he moved 'out west'.

The illness took her. Mother died three months earlier, just before my thirteenth birthday. I left school and brought my things home while I tried to figure out what to do. Before I left, I asked the school for my father's address. Someone checked and told me that they had no record of my tuition ever being paid! I was afraid they would expect me to pay them for five years of tuition, but the man at the school was sure the records were just misplaced. A man who lived down the street from Mother's house said he knew how to contact my father. He told me that he contacted my father and told him what happened. About ten days later, I received a letter from my father telling me he wanted me to live with him, and where he was. I found out he was pretty close to Deadwood, the infamous town. I knew all about Deadwood. It was full of gunfighters and saloons and prostitutes. And when people played poker, the losers killed the winners. Going there sounded exciting but also scary. I was very certain I would never play poker. Or any other card game, just to be safe. On my way there, I met a man from Deadwood. He told me all about the area. The town my father lived in was a lot smaller than Deadwood, and wasn't usually violent. But it was a mining town, too, which meant there were a lot more men than women. He said that meant most of the men spent their evenings in the saloons. That was where the women were. I asked about Indians. He could tell I was worried. He said so many people died of the pox, both whites and Indians, that tensions were low.

The town wasn't Chicago, but I was glad to have somewhere to go. When I returned home from school after Mother died, and I wandered around that big house by myself, I realize I wasn't ready to live on my own. My new home wasn't somewhere I would have picked, but it was somewhere. I worried about my father being 'no good'. 'No-good' and living near Deadwood might be really bad. On the other hand, Mother might just have caught him with another woman, which would be bad, obviously, but to me, it might just mean I had a stepmother. On the other hand, he could be a gunfighter. Or a poker player. If he played poker, he was obviously a loser, being alive and all. I just had no idea.

As I looked out the window, I shook my head. It was no Deadwood, it was just dead. There were only six buildings on the street and two of them were saloons. One of the saloons was directly across the street. The sign just said, 'Harry's'. It didn't seem too sinful. There were Christmas decorations on the windows. Then I saw a man on the street. He was leading a horse and carriage to the front of the store. I assumed it was for the couple who were shopping in the store.

A good-looking man I guessed was a cowhand walked out of the saloon across the street and stood on the sidewalk. He leaned against a pole and looked around. I was surprised to see he wasn't wearing heavy clothes and he looked very relaxed, considering how cold it was. Was he an opium addict? I heard you could buy opium in the saloons. I wondered how much opium cost.

A woman moved next to me. "Look at that! It's disgustin'. He's so drunk he doesn't know he'll freeze to death! He'll be dead of pneumonia in a week, and good riddance!" she said.

"That some of your Christian charity showing through, Marigold?" a man in a beaver-skin coat asked her.

I turned around. There was an older man in a beaver-skin coat and a couple, a man and a woman. Both of them looked a little younger than the man in the beaver. The plain-looking woman had to be Marigold. She was the only woman in the store. The owner of the store, a man named Carpenter, was behind the counter. I got the impression from his face that he wasn't fond of Marigold.

"Why you filthy..." Marigold started to say.

"Come, my dear," the man with Marigold said. The man I guessed was her husband took her arm in one hand, carrying a bag in the other. He led her out of the store. I heard the man say, "What did you expect from..." as he closed the door.

I turned back around. I opened my one bag that contained everything I had. I took out my sketchbook and a pencil. The sketchbook had been curled around the other things in the back. I tried to take the curve out of the paper, first. Then I began drawing a picture of the man in front of the saloon. It might be all that was left of him in a week, if the woman was right about pneumonia. The way he was standing, the tilt of his hat, and the saloon behind him just looked very western. I drew his outline and then began adding detail. As I worked on drawing his ruggedly handsome face I got an erection. Handsome men did that to me. I liked men and I knew all about sex with men. I wondered if the cowboy was growing or a beard or if he just hadn't shaved in a week.

My favorite teacher at school, Dan Jackson, taught me about men. I thought Dan was the handsomest man I ever saw. He'd been my teacher since I first attended the school. As the years went on, we grew closer and closer. First he was just a teacher. Then he became a friend. He became my best friend. And finally, when I started to become aware of sex, he showed me just how wonderful sex was. He became my lover. Dan taught me so many things, but he loved to draw and paint and I came to love those, too. In a strange way, he was like a father to me, despite the fact that we were having sex. Dan called me son, and you may not believe it, but I pretended he was my father, sometimes even when I was sucking him. All I had left of Dan were two drawings. One of him in clothes and the other was a very detailed drawing of his erect pecker. I sucked on it several times to keep it stiff while I drew it. Every detail that I knew so well was in the drawing. I'd promised Dan to look at it while I stroked myself. There hadn't been any chances to do that, yet. There might never be, while I was living with my father. I couldn't take the chance of my father seeing it.

The man I was drawing had a lump in the crotch of his trousers. I included the lump in the drawing, but tried to make it subtle. I wondered how big he was when he was hard. As I drew him, I realized I would enjoy stroking myself while I looked at his picture—if I ever had the chance. I made the lump in his pants a little less subtle. I really needed to stroke myself. I was used to sucking Dan every day and getting fucked by him a couple of times a week. I could practically taste his man-cream. I told myself to stop thinking about sex. It was making me even more horned up, and I was stiff as a board. I looked down at my crotch and was relieved that everything was hidden by my coat. I sure hoped I could find at least one man in town who was interested in me. With more men than women, I thought it might be possible.

"When do you want that delivered? Jack is in Deadwood," Mr. Carpenter said.

"Oh. You expecting him back, today?" the other man asked.

"You bet. You know him on a Saturday night!"

The man in the beaver coat startled me when I was drawing. "You've got real talent, son," the man said from behind me. I turned to look at him. He had an average looking face, with brown hair mixed with gray. "Tom Bailey never looked better," the man added. He smelled really good. I supposed he was wearing cologne.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Say, I'll give you two dollars to make a portrait of me, like that. You interested?"

Two dollars!

"I sure am! Sir."

"You wanna do it now?" he asked.

"Sure!"

I added my initials to the drawing I'd just done. Then I flipped to a new page on my sketchbook. I looked at him.

"Your coat is beautiful, but it will take a while to draw, if I do it justice."

The man nodded.

"I don't guess it's important."

He took the coat off and put it on some canned goods. I started drawing and I did the best job I could. About ten or fifteen minutes later, I showed him what I had. He looked really pleased. I continued drawing. I was taught to draw exactly what I saw, but I made him look a little younger and maybe a little more handsome. I worked on his eyes and was pleased how they turned out. Then I finished his lips. He had a half-smile on his face and I captured that. I added my initials before I tore the page out of my sketchbook and handed it to him. He shook his head as he looked at it.

"You've amazed me. It's good and it's quick," he said to me.

"Like your girls," Mr. Carpenter said.

The man I'd drawn laughed.

"They got a lot of men to satisfy," he said.

Mr. Carpenter walked over to us and looked at the drawing.

"Oh, my! That is somethin'," the shopkeeper said. "How'd you get to be so good at your age?"

"I had a good teacher."

Mr. Carpenter nodded.

"I'm Harry Lawson," the man said, holding out his hand. I shook it and introduced myself.

"Are you that Harry?" I asked, pointing across the street.

"I am. That is my place.

"Do you paint?" Harry asked me.

"I can, but it takes a lot longer."

He chuckled.

"Yeah. Longer than ten minutes!"

Harry paid me two dollars for the picture! I couldn't believe it! I protested it was too much.

"A thing is worth what people will pay for it. Gold is worth more than lead, because people will pay more for gold."

"Nobody round here likes Lead," the shopkeeper said. "Specially not that new preacher."

I had no earthly idea what that meant. A lead preacher? Harry looked at me and chuckled.

"There's a town near here called Lead. The preacher there is trying to close the saloons."

"Oh!"

"As I was sayin, a thing is worth what people will pay for it, and this is worth two dollars to me."

"Thank you, Sir."

He chuckled.

The man put his coat back on and left with his portrait, smiling. A gust of cold wind blew into the store when he opened the door. He walked across the street and stopped in front of the saloon. He showed the man on the sidewalk the drawing I had just done. Then he pointed to me. The older man walked into the saloon and the younger crossed the street heading in my direction. I quickly finished my drawing of Tom Bailey and was putting the final touches on it as he walked into the feed store.

Tom shivered as he walked into the feed store. I guessed he was about thirty.

"You must be freezing!" I said to him.

"Come on over to the saloon. I wanna talk to you bout drawin'."

"Oh. OK."

I put my sketchbook back in my bag and picked it up. I followed him out the door. Before I closed the door, I said, "Thanks for letting me wait here, Mr. Carpenter."

"That's all right, Daryl. I hope your pa shows up soon. If he comes in, I'll tell him where you are."

I smiled at him. "Thank you."

As we walked across the street, I decided I would get a room at the hotel. I just made two dollars, so I didn't have to worry about the expense. Besides, I'd sold all of Mother's belongings and had over fifty dollars hidden in my pants. I didn't feel right about spending much of that, because it might belong to my father. He'd probably bought the furniture and the clothes, too. But the two dollars was mine and I could spend it the way I wanted. But then it occurred to me that it was a mining town and prices might be higher because everyone (but me) had gold.

"Aren't you freezing?" I asked. "Take my coat. You're going to get sick," I said.

"My coat's in the saloon. I got hot inside and just came out to cool down. But thanks for the offer, kid."

"It's Daryl."

"I'm Tom."

We stepped up to the sidewalk in front of the saloon. "Will they let me inside?" I asked.

Tom thought that was hilarious. He slapped his leg as he laughed. He still had my arm and I didn't struggle. I wanted to see the inside of a Deadwood saloon. We walked inside and it was hot. I understood why he'd gone outside for a few minutes.

"Girls get cold, what with them not wearin' any clothes," Tom said.

My mouth dropped open and he laughed.

I looked around and only saw one woman. She was wearing clothes, but very little. Just underthings and skimpy ones at that. Her tits were mostly hanging out, with not much more than her nipples covered. There were two men, one behind a bar and another who sat at the piano as we entered. It looked like Tom and I were the only customers. Tom took me to a table. I sat down while Tom pulled his gun out of its holster and sat.

"Do I need a gun, if I'm going to be living here?" I asked.

"That's hard to say. We haven't had no trouble here, but who knows what'll happen. A lot of the folks moving here are trying to get away from Deadwood and find a little peace."

I nodded.

"Where're you from and where are your folks?"

I told Tom the story of my life. I told him about Dan and how he'd taught me, but left out the sex, of course.

"Do you know my pa?" I asked him.

"Don't know nobody by that name, kid. I mean Daryl.

"Lemme see the picture."

I opened my bag and pulled it out of my sketchbook. I handed it to him.

"Hey! Nice. Nice." He nodded his head. "I don't look too ugly in it," he said.

"You're not ugly!" I said.

He grinned at me.

"You don't think so, huh?"

"No."

"So you think I'm handsome, do you?"

He stroked his stubbled cheek. "I wish I'd shaved a fore you drawed me."

"You look fine to me," I said.

"Handsome?"

I nodded.

Tom leaned back in his chair, grinning.

"Maybe the girls should be payin me to have sex with em."

"I think they should, Tom. Why should only pretty girls get paid for having sex?"

Tom laughed.

"I don't know! Now that you mention it, it does sound awful unfair. Specially with me bein so handsome and all."

I smiled at him.

I decided I liked him a lot. And he was a very good looking man. I could see black hair at the collar of his shirt and the backs of his hands were hairy, too. I loved hairy men. I wondered if he was as hairy as Dan. Dan loved feeling my hands on him. I sure wanted to feel Tom all over.

"How do you feel about sin, son?" he asked me.

"Which kind?"

"Sex."

"That's the only kind I'm in favor of," I said, smiling.

He leaned back and folded his hands behind his head.

"You'll find we don't whisper in here when we talk about sex. Men come to this saloon to get their peckers polished and their balls drained."

I nodded.

"I got to tell you, son. You's lookin at me like you want to lick me all over."

I was shocked and then I got scared.

"Now it don't bother me none," Tom said.

"Do you mean that?" I asked. I don't know why it didn't even occur to me to deny it.

"I do. But you could get in trouble looking at men like that."

"I know, Tom, but I didn't know I was doing it."

Tom nodded.

"You ever spread your legs for a man?"

I blushed and looked down.

"That's a yes, ain't it?"

I nodded without looking up.

"You use your mouth on a man?"

I looked up at him and nodded my head. Tom just nodded. I was really surprised that he wasn't disgusted or angry.

"Now, it's safe to do that in here," Tom said.

"It is?" I had trouble believing that.

"Oh, yeah. Harry's gonna be right pleased when he finds out what you like."

"I don't understand."

"What does your pa look like?" Tom asked, changing the subject.

I sighed.

"I don't know."

Tom nodded.

"Did Carpenter across the street say he knows him?"

"He hadn't heard of him."

"Your pa sent you to a town where everone knows everone else, except nobody knows him. He don't tell you where to meet him. You get here and he ain't around. Don't that strike you as odd?"

I closed my eyes. Was what Tom was implying right? The town was small. The chances of him living there without anyone knowing him was zero. Why hadn't I thought of that? What was I going to do? I just took my father at his word. But this was the man who hadn't contacted me even once in my whole life. I forced myself not to cry. Not everything was bad. I had only been in town a few hours and I already earned two dollars. I could get a job and support myself. It wouldn't be like Chicago with taxes for this and for that.

I opened my eyes. "I guess he isn't coming."

"That's how it looks. Mebe I'm wrong. Hope so."

"No. It makes too much sense. I think there's a really good chance you're right."

"Handsome and right?" Tom asked.

I laughed. He had cheered me up.

"Yes. It's just amazing, isn't it."

He laughed. "It shore is."

"Have you ever drawn any dirty pictures?" Tom asked.

I nodded my head.

"Um. Not of women."

"Men?"

I nodded.

"Can ya show me?"

I reached into my bag, at the bottom. I pulled out the drawing of Dan's pecker. I unfolded it and nervously handed it to Tom.

"Oh, my. A fella can sure tell what you like," Tom said, as he looked at it. I cringed a little, but it obviously didn't bother Tom a bit that I was like that.

"Hey, George," Tom said to the bartender. "You know where Harry is?"

"He headed for the kitchen."

"Hey, Harry!" Tom yelled.

"What?" I heard Harry yell back.

"Can ya come here?"

A door next to the bar opened and Harry walked over to us.

"Oh, my," he said, as he saw the drawing.

"I thought you was that way," Harry said, as he looked at the drawing. He pointed at the Tom's crotch in the picture. "That's a giveaway. You got real talent, boy. But there ain't much call for pecker portraits," Harry said.

"I don't know about that," Tom said. "You know how proud a few fellas is of their meat. And when they're drunk..."

Harry nodded his head slowly.

"But that isn't what I called you about," Tom said. "What about sellin' drawins of the girls?"

He turned to me. "You ever draw pussy?"

I shook my head.

"I could, I guess," I said.

Tom winked at me. I was falling in love with the man.

"You lookin for a job?" Harry asked me.

"I think I need one. My father's name is Alan Johnson. Have you heard of him?"

Harry shook his head.

"And I know everyone who lives anywhere near here. I know most of the folks in Deadwood. And your father said he lived in this town?"

I nodded.

"He bought me the tickets to get here."

"That is very strange," Harry said, frowning.

"I don't guess my father is going to show up."

"Maybe he will," Harry said. "It's possible he has a place somewhere in the hills. But I'm not sure you should count on it."

Tom told Harry what I'd told him. He told him that I liked men.

I was embarrassed, but Harry seemed glad I was that way.

"I'm sorry about your pa, kid," Harry said. "But we can sure use you here."

I smiled. "For drawing?"

Harry sat down.

"Some of our customers are like you. They want a man or a boy and not a woman."

I was very surprised by that.

"We used to have a boy workin here. Manuel. He entertained those men. That was something we could do that the other saloon couldn't."

"Wow! What happened to Manuel?"

"A cowboy fell in love with him and convinced him to quit. They moved to Montana, from what I hear."

That sounded so romantic!

"We haven't been able to replace him," Harry said. "And we are losing money, because of it. Not a lot, but I don't want to lose any. Do you want Manuel's job?"

"I would get paid to have sex?" I asked. It was like getting paid to eat ice cream!

Tom laughed.

"I think he likes the idear."

"Well, you want the job?" Harry asked.

"Probably, but I've got lots of questions."

Harry nodded.

"Do I have to have sex with any man who wants it?"

"No. You get to choose whether you want to spend time with them. There are several men the girls refuse to bed. They could be smelly, or mean, or too rough. If they are just smelly, they can bathe in a room off the kitchen for two bits. Manuel would bathe some of them for an extra charge. Lots of times Manuel would lock the door and they had sex right there in the tub."

"How much would it pay?" I asked.

"That depends on how good a lay you are. And how well you suck. But we generally charge twice what it costs to bed a girl. It's supply and demand. There's a demand and very, very little supply. I could charge more, probably. Now, if you are fair to good in bed, twice is what we'll charge. But if you whine and refuse everything, they will leave we won't make a cent." Harry turned to Tom. "You willing to try him out?"

Try me out?

"Shore am," Tom said, grinning at me.

"I'll set the price once you tell me how good you are." I was going to have sex with Tom! "But you can count on at least two dollars a man for a fuck. And at least four bits for a suck. We charge more if you swallow. We—the saloon—keep half, which in all honesty, I got to tell you is more than other saloons, but we also pay all your expenses. And I do mean all. Clothes, food, lodging, liquor, a doctor, if you need one. That two dollars—"

"Or more," Tom added. "Sometimes they tip and that's all yours."

Harry nodded.

"—Is all yours. Pure profit," Harry finished.

"Do you swallow when you use your mouth on a man?" Tom asked.

"I do. I was taught that men don't like it if you don't."

"That is very true," Harry said. "But most people hate it. The girls won't swallow and neither would Manuel. If you do, you already got a raise! You get a buck for a suck if you swallow."

I grinned at him.

"Who taught you that? About how to suck. A stepfather? An older boy at school?"

"A teacher at school."

"Did he give ya a good grade?" Tom asked, grinning.

"An A!"

Tom and Harry laughed.

"Did he fuck you?" Harry asked.

I nodded.

"Did you enjoy it?"

I nodded.

"Good."

I could hardly believe it! A man I just met was telling me it was good my art teacher fucked me!

"Once you are working here, I don't want you going outside the saloon without a guard," Harry said. "That's Tom's job." Tom grinned at me. "People don't bother the girls, but Manuel had trouble. You probly know how most folks feel about sex between men." I nodded. "Well, you just ignore them and let Tom handle them."

"I hope I'm as good as Manuel," I said.

"Well, I'm about to find out," Tom said.

I grinned and he chuckled.

"I expect you are much better than Manuel. He did it because he was hungry, not because he wanted to," Harry said.

"There's one other thing," Harry said. "You won't ever be paid for sex with Tom or with me. Tom and I have sex with each girl, every day. I have my reasons for that. But because you are a man—or boy, we aren't going to be fucking you every day. I may not ever do it. Though I may use your mouth now and then. Tom probably will fuck you. I don't know how often. But the rule is, you never say no to us. The girls aren't allowed to and neither are you. I have trouble imagining you saying no to us, specially to Tom. Like most men, you want as much sex as you can have, so it's no hardship to you. But those are the rules."

"I will be fucking you regular," Tom said to me. "I love tight boy ass."

I grinned at Tom.

"Do I have to pay you?" I asked Tom.

He laughed.

"Tom here got addicted to boy ass at a young age," Harry said.

"How?" I asked Tom.

"Pa used to fuck my little brother ever day," Tom said. "When I got old enough to want sex, Joey would suck me while Pa fucked him. Joey loved the taste of my cream."

I groaned. "I can't wait to taste it," I said.

Tom chuckled and continued. "I started fucking him when I was twelve. I never had to stroke myself. I usually didn't even have to ask. Joey would come find me wherever I was working. He'd pull my meat out, suck it, and drain my nuts. Then at night, Pa and me would fuck him."

"Now, if that ain't sin, I don't know what is," Harry said, grinning.

"Sin is just another word for fun," Tom said.

Harry laughed.

"Yup."

"I wish I'd had a big brother," I said.

Tom grinned at me.

"That's one of my fantasies. Having a man at each end," I said.

"You can do that as much as you want, here. Most of the men who will want you would find that very exciting," Harry said.

Tom stood up. "Come with me," he said.

I started to pick up my bag.

"You can leave that here," Harry said.

I nervously followed Tom up the stairs, looking at his muscular ass. He opened the second door on the right at the top of the stairs. I followed him into the room.

"Take off your clothes," he told me.

He started undressing and I began doing the same. When we were both naked, I ran my hands through the hair on his chest.

"There's somethin I need to say. We are gonna have sex, you and me. Maybe a lot of sex, maybe not. But the most we will ever be is friends. You look like you like you are bout this far—" he held two fingers together. "From fallin in love. I'm not gonna love you back. If I ever settle down, it will be with a woman." He grinned. "Although I might let you take a suck ever now and then."

"I understand. It was like that with my teacher. He warned me every time he fucked me."

"Good."

I sighed. "I guess he has a new boy to fuck."

Tom put my hand on his pecker. It stiffened up.

"Well, you got another man," he told me.

He looked at me like he was trying to decide something. Then he pulled my mouth to his and pushed his tongue into my mouth. Tom's mouth tasted like tobacco and whiskey. It was a new taste for me. It was very manly. I stroked Tom's pecker while we kissed. He pulled away after only a few seconds.

"There. That cheer you up?"

I smiled.

"It sure did!"

Tom lay on the bed. He looked really sexy.

"Show me what you can do with your mouth."

I took his cock into my mouth. It was semi-hard. It stiffened as I ran my tongue over it. I wrapped one hand around his balls and ran the other over his belly and chest. I heard his sigh. I let his pecker slip from my mouth and began sucking his balls. Tom's pecker was about six and a half inches hard. It had a nice shape to it. Tom was a little smaller than Dan, who was just under seven inches, hard. Tom was very clean. I guessed he'd had a bath not long before. I pinched one of his nipples. He didn't react, so I didn't do it, again. I stroked the shaft while I sucked his balls.

"That's real nice, kid."

I let his balls slip out of my mouth and pushed my face further between his legs. I licked the area between his balls and his asshole. He jumped up.

"Holy shit! You gonna lick my ass?"

"No. I did as much as I was going to do."

"Good, cause there's no tellin what you could catch doin that. You do that to your teacher?"

"Yeah. He liked it."

Tom thought that was hilarious. "He did? What a surprise!"

I went back to his hard rod. I pulled back the foreskin and lapped at the head. He was leaking the clear stuff and I gobbled it down. I wanted the thick stuff from Tom. I wanted his cream. I wanted that handsome man to pump my mouth full of the stuff. I could happily spend an hour sucking him, but a prostitute was probably not supposed to waste time. I began trying to make him shoot. He grabbed my head and lifted it off him.

"That was real nice. Better than Manuel. I could tell you want my spunk in your mouth."

I nodded.

"My brother Joey loved it, too. But we'll save that for next time. You may be sucking me regular like, but I won't always shoot in your mouth. I have women to fuck, so I almost always pull out afore I shoot. No point in takin a chance a gettin one pregnant. But I know you want mine, so I'll make sure you get some regular."

"Thanks. You are such a man!" I said.

He laughed.

"Don't ferget you can get as much man cream as you want from your other men."

I had forgotten about that!

He sat up.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, boy."

I gulped.

He sure knew what he was doing. He had me lie on my back. He pushed my legs up, spit on my hole, spit on his cock, and was pushing inside me in about five seconds. Then I remembered he fucked his brother every day. He had a lot of practice. I closed my eyes and pushed out. He slowly entered me. It hurt like hell, but there was no way in hell I was going to ask him to stop. He spit on his pecker again and continued pushing. I just gritted my teeth.

"Damn! You're tight! You sure you been fucked?"

"I was screaming and seeing stars that first time," I said.

Tom laughed.

"He bigger?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Well that helps with me."

He spit on his pecker, again. I pushed harder and he slid in all the way in. I put my hands on his shoulders as he pulled out and pushed back inside.

"Oh, yeah!" he cried. He began fucking me. After he had been doing it for about a minute, he winked at me.

"You OK?" he asked me.

"Never better."

"Right where you want to be, huh? Under your pal Tom."

"That's the place I want to live! But maybe I can find somewhere else just as nice to live."

He grinned. "That's the way to think, kid."

If you enjoyed it and would like me to continue the story, please let me know.