Page 35 of Working the Lode

Again, Joaquin shrugged minutely. “A man’s touch is more powerful…more direct…straightforward.”

Zelnora was on her knees behind Bowmaker, her gentler and subtler fingers unbuttoning his broadfall. She shimmied her hand down his flank so that his erection burst free, bobbing in the air above Valenzuela’s crotch, and his own cock twitched and jumped to view the meaty tool again in such proximity. Was the mountain man inviting him to grip that beautiful cock? Valenzuela felt his own eyes grow misty with longing.

Bowmaker grinned slyly. He slithered his long fingers down Joaquin’s bare, inflamed hip to undo the first silver button of his velvet calzoneras. “That’s right,” Bowmaker agreed flippantly. “A man is straight and strong as the barrel of a rifle.”

“You want to touch and stroke his penis, don’t you, Cormack,” Zelnora whispered over the man’s bare shoulder, in between loud sucks to his shimmering bicep. Valenzuela could see her hand squeezing the juicy globe of his bare ass, his buckskins crumpled at his knees. “I know you want to. Go ahead…I like to watch.”

With her other hand she tickled Bowmaker’s rigid nipples with…a shaving brush? It certainly looked like one, with soft bristles perhaps of badger hair, and a shiny polished wooden handle. Bowmaker’s eyes slid shut, fluttering, as he wrapped his fingers around the base of Joaquin’s prick. His lips moved but no sound came out. His cock jounced at every slight graze of the badger brush, and he squeezed Joaquin’s taut prick as he lunged his hips toward him.

Joaquin could bear holding still no more at the sight of the pelirrojo man’s broad hand wrapped around his prick, and he lifted one palm from the stool to draw Bowmaker toward him, gripping the back of his neck almost fiercely and parting his snarling lips for a kiss.

The sweet softness of his lips! How succulent it was to nibble and sup at this muscular man’s mouth, their chests pressing together. The woman’s licentious instructions enticed Bowmaker to lustier pinnacles. He frigged Valenzuela eagerly, shamelessly jerking the cock up and down, grunting like the wild bull that he was.

“That’s good, Cormack…” she whispered over his shoulder. “You fondle his penis so impatiently. Is it because you like the feel of another man’s penis in your fist? Do you like that, Joaquin? Is he as good as a woman? Better than a woman? You like his firm, eager fist, don’t you? You enjoy the feeling of his long fat penis sliding against yours.”

Breaking the kiss with an unrestrained slurp, Bowmaker panted against Valenzuela’s lips. “I want to feel this delicious raw cock explode in my hand.”

“Do it,” Valenzuela growled.

And Bowmaker plastered his mouth to Valenzuela’s as he frigged the penis even more energetically, Valenzuela sliding his own hand down Bowmaker’s white ridged belly to nestle his burly balls in his palm, the testicles he had recently slapped to such great summits of arousal.

“Cormack…” Zelnora whispered into his neck. “Do you like this fat hard thing plunging up your ass? You like being filled with something so stiff and hard, don’t you?”

“Oh God, Zel…” the mountain man muttered against Valenzuela’s mouth. “Don’t stop. Fuck me with that big…hard…thing.”

What was the woman doing? Valenzuela had never known a woman of any nationality to act so immoral! He slipped a fingertip down the slick ridge behind Bowmaker’s balls. Was she actually…gliding the wooden handle of that brush into Bowmaker’s tight ass? The thought that she was buggering him with that thick plug drove Joaquin to even greater summits. So many times he’d frigged himself while imagining lunging into that delicious ass, sometimes with Bowmaker subserviently on his stomach, thighs splayed like a frog while rubbing his firm pole against a buffalo robe, and sometimes, even more slavishly, on his back like a woman, bulging erection slapping against his own belly as Valenzuela pumped into him.

Detaching his mouth from Bowmaker’s, Valenzuela craned to see over his shoulder. Zelnora cast him a devilish smile, her forearm thrusting into Bowmaker’s arched backside while the man gyrated his hips to give Zelnora better access. Bowmaker groaned with such animal abandon that Joaquin instantly splashed a great load into his hand, the lubricious friction of the sperm between the two men’s bellies creating a smacking sound.

Bowmaker slithered his thumb up the underside of Valenzuela’s cock to milk out the last spurts while he groaned against his throat. “Oh god, yes…I’m going to lick your jism off your hard cock…”

“Taste it, Cormack, taste it…” Zelnora encouraged him.

Dropping to his knees, Bowmaker hefted the cock in his fist. He sucked, tentatively at first as though savoring a bonbon that might melt. But when Joaquin grabbed the back of his head and thrust, gasping, all inhibition seemed to vanish. Bowmaker furiously lapped the sperm from the crown, the underside, the entire length, and Joaquin urged the mountain man’s face to slurp at his balls. He had dreamed of this for so long…

A frustrating interruption nearly had Joaquin reaching for his Colt to rub out some folks, regardless who they were.

“Mr. Valenzuela! Your soldiers are here!”

It was that pumpkinheaded associate Quartus, thumping at the door as though the forest was on fire.

~~~

Bowmaker

Bowmaker slumped to the floor when Valenzuela raced away, buttoning his calzoneras and tucking in his fancy shirt.

Ho, boy. Bowmaker wanted to câche in a steep mountain ravine where only goats dared wander. He just wanted to go under, but he had to face Zelnora now. As casual as could be, his sweetheart opened a fresh claret bottle and removed a few clay jars from the window to let in cooler air—as though she had not just shoved the handle of a shaving brush up his ass!

Sitting in the rocking chair and handing him his refreshed claret cup, she said smoothly, “That was the most exciting thing I’ve ever viewed, Cormack. But you must know…Don’t you dare attempt doing that with another woman!” Her tone was only halfway teasing.

Ah, good, talk of women, not men. Now he could turn to her and look into her face. Gently, he said, “I would never even dream of attempting that, my mountain flower. How could any woman compare to you? I have everything I want right here.”

Zelnora smiled cunningly. “Except a dusky, rigid penis.”

Bowmaker felt his face redden. He could no longer deny he’d been aroused for months at the thought of the desperado’s long, dark penis erupting in his mouth, or pumping into his ass while pinning him down, or perhaps…Perhaps one day Bowmaker would get his revenge for the spanking by restraining the other man, binding his hands so he was helpless.

He knew his attraction to the mysterious bandit brought back to mind his mountaineering years, the dangerous times he’d lifted hair from Arapahos and fought the Blackfoot. Bowmaker knew those shining times were over with the disappearance of the beaver. Some of his fellow mountain men had gone on to become guides for overland parties coming to California, but such an eventuality was a dim shadow of his former carefree ways, and this child was no traveler, he had been a trapper. He wanted a woman’s face about his lodge. He wanted Zelnora.