Chapter 7

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“Some cowboys made little effort to remember what happened yesterday. Ben remembered everything. They were alone together on their way to town. When Ben came to the fork in the road, he took the old road towards Abilene that nobody used any longer.

“You took the wrong road,” said Mickey.

“I took the right road.” Ben took Mickey’s hand and placed it on his knee.

“OH, I get it, mumbled Mickey. Do I have to suck your pecker again?”

“I’m getting married to Gloria, but we haven’t told anybody yet. Before I do something like that, I’m going to fuck you.”

“That’s not happening. You can’t put that big thing in me – not going to happen. If you’re getting hitched, you will have enough pussy to poke.”

“Okay,” replied Ben, pulling the wagon off the road into a clump of trees.

“You don’t believe me, do you? “ I’m too little for that dick. Fuck your wife and leave me alone.”

“Okay,” Ben said again.

“C’mon,” - They climbed into the back of the wagon and Ben opened his pants. Mickey’s hand went immediately for his cock and his head went into his crotch sniffing Ben’s balls and rubbing his face on his pecker. He really liked Ben, but was playing hard to get.

“You have been thinking about doing this again, haven’t you?” Ben said.

“Sometimes…..Okay, a lot of times,” confessed Mickey.

Mickey did something he never did before. He took off his clothes and straddled Ben who was naked from the waist down.

“Blasted, Ben Paxton, I’ll be your whore this time. How do you want to do this? However, if I can’t take it, you have to stop. Agreed?”

“Agreed! Shore ‘nuff. I don’t want to hurt you and I won’t. Get my pecker wet with your mouth and hope I don’t shoot off too soon.”

Mickey worked his magic. He was a changed cowboy, and Ben liked the change. He liked it a lot. This cute sexy wrangler was about to become his country whore for the next half hour.

Ben was able to get a finger inside Mickey. He was tight and warm like a campfire. Then he clamped tightly around Ben’s finger, waiting for a pecker poke. Ben wanted what he wanted, and always got his way once he knew some cowpoke was a player.

Mickey had a surprisingly good body and a man size pecker himself already hard and oozing. With his lips around Ben’s cock, syrup bubbled heading straight towards Mickey’s tongue.

“No – no,” thought Ben. “I want to poke this guitar playing wrangler and he is going to drain me if I don’t stop him.”

Ben became uncontrollable, and unable to restraint his own body. It didn’t make sense; he always had control before. Ben shot cannon balls of cum like a reenactment of Bunker Hill. As fast as it came, it disappeared in Mickey’s mouth until there was no more of anything to do, but get dressed. Mickey put his clothes back on and so did Ben. It was just that fast.

“What in tarnation, just happened,” asked Ben? “Where did you learn to suck like that?” he asked Mickey.

“I didn’t, maybe I’m a natural,” replied Mickey.

“Are you pecker playing around with Alex? I see you with him all the time,” asked Ben?

“Naw, never, I wouldn’t do that, not with Alex, we’re just pals.”

“Dang! You grabbed my pecker, and gobbled like there is no food in the bunkhouse. Mickey, I don’t understand you,” replied Ben.”

“Ben, you’re a man with a needy pecker. Sex is something wranglers do for each other. You told me that yourself.” Mickey concluded.

“Dang, I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Shore ‘nuff did.”

******

In a matter of minutes, they were back on the seat of the wagon and Mickey was driving. In town, they loaded the supplies and made no other stops, except for Mickey buying new boots. Ben wanted to go straight back to the farm.

You don’t like me, do you Mickey?” Ben asked as the wagon rolled over the bumpy road, heading out of Abilene, and into the countryside.

“What kind of a question is that? I like everybody, hoping they like me. I try not to think ‘bout stuff like that. I am not a homo even if you think I am.

The ladies want a man who is a tough varmint, and that’s not me. You have the best pecker though, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m not a homo either,” confessed Ben. For me a hole is a hole. Women are better, because they make babies and can cook.”

“I can cook,” Mickey smiled finally and seemed obliging.

Ben smiled back. “I know you can cook, but you can’t make babies. I don’t know if you’re a good poke or not. Dang, you gotta let me in there.”

“I guess you will never know.” Mickey smirked.

“Yep, I guess,” agreed Ben.

******

The Paxton farm was almost in sight, they had about a half mile left to go.

“You feel fitting,” asked Ben.

“Sure, why not?”

“You did a heap of swallowing. My balls are empty,” barked Ben.

“We both have a secret; the same secret,” replied Mickey. “Don’t pay no thinking ‘bout it; wranglers will do that for one another, just being obliging.”

“Want to oblige me again sometime? Mumbled Ben.

“I don’t know – probably not. Hold on, shore, why not,” Mickey finally said.

“Suppose I’m married.”

“Then suppose you forget about asking,” concluded Mickey.

The farm was straight ahead and Mickey drove the team to the house stopping by the stoop. Pa and Randy were by the barn talking, and Dan was splitting wood by the side of the house. His shirt was off and he was sweating with moisture running down his chest disappearing under his belt.

Lordy, talk about beef on the hoof; Dan is “Heavenly,” with no time for resting, after feasting one’s eyes on this cowpoke.

Sara came outside with a pitcher of lemonade and told the boys to take a rest and sit a spell on the stoop. “I’ve got lemonade,” she announced.

“We got the supplies ma,” said Mickey.

‘I’ll put everything in the storeroom,” said Ben. “I picked up the mail in town. Some papers for pa and a letter for Dan. It’s from Omaha.”

“That must be from Susan. When is she arriving,” asked Sara.

Dan opened the letter and read in silence. He paused, then reread it. “She isn’t. She is getting married and opening a dress shop.

“Oh my, that’s something; read it to us!” Sara said, pouring lemonade.

“Golly, this is hard to believe. My sister is going with another man and so soon after putting her husband, John, in the ground. Why it’s like saying the Alamo was a misunderstanding, sighed Dan.

“Will you read the dang blasted thing,” barked Ben getting slightly annoyed?

“Watch yourself Ben, now Dan’s letter is personal and if he wants to keep it to himself, that’s his business,” said Sara. Not believing a word of what she was preaching.

“I will read it to you,” Dan quietly mumbled.

******

To be continued……