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Cowboy Night, Indian Summer
by Cain Berlinger - Honcho, January 1994
The young, hard Indian was about twenty or so, with an incredibly hard body the color of burnished copper. I reached around him and removed the loin cloth. His uncut cock was plump and really exciting to the eye.
Damn the sheriff and those self-righteous townspeople! I had been driven out of town once more. No matter how wild life proved in the West, I always found town people puritanical and serious. Indian uprisings and the constant shoot-outs they were used to. Cowboys and lawless gunmen could murder each other in the streets—but don’t let one lone cowboy fuck with another, unless it was kept secret.
I’d been bucking broncos and following the rodeos for most of my life, and at thirty-three I was an old circuit pro. Shit, diddling around behind the stable was practically tradition. But I guess fucking the sheriff’s nineteen-year-old son was probably like playing with fire. Fucking sheriff was ready to hang me. I didn’t even have time to tell him that it was his boy that seduced me, not the other way around! Well, fuck it. I guess I should be grateful that all they did was run me outta town.
I had been riding all day because, unbeknownst to all of them, the kid’s cowboy lover warned me that he’d kill me if I didn’t leave. Ya didn’t have to tell me twice. So me and my sore nuts had been riding through Wyoming most of the day and by nightfall I was pretty sure that I was as far away from that little tempting ass as I could get. Unfortunately, night time in the desert wasn’t really all that safe for a white man in Indian territory.
My horse Rebecca was really worn out and I admit I was tired too. I had to set up camp in the middle of the desert whether I wanted to or not. It was a beautiful warm night and all the heaven’s little stars were putting on a show just for me. Crescent moon didn’t give much light, but it sure as hell gave the coyotes and wolves something to howl about. I had picked the spot because a little stream was right near, so I could at least strip and wash some of the dirt off my aching body. The cool water felt real good on me and I splashed a lot of water and soap all over my body. Despite all the trouble that kid had been one hell of a mean fuck, and I still had some of his cum on my chest from when he shot all over me. Well, that was one adventure I would keep to myself.
It was a real warm night so I didn’t bother to get back into my clothes. I just slid my leather chaps on and sat down to some dried pork and canned beans. Then I made a little coffee for myself and wrote a little bit into my journal. I tried not to let the sound of the coyotes get to me. My main worry was snakes and scorpions. I intended to sleep real close to the fire. I spread out my blanket and put my gun under my pillow, determined to catch some sleep so I could ride into the next town refreshed. It wasn’t long before my eyelids got real heavy and I fell asleep happy, thinking about that boy’s tight, warm ass.
I don’t know how long I had been sleeping when a noise awakened me. Couldn’t tell what it was. Sometimes those desert animals are real quiet before they strike and leave you for dead. I moved my hand to my gun and positioned my finger on the trigger. I was fast with a gun - in these times you had to be. I opened one eye and raised my head slightly, searching around for trouble.
My campfire had burned down and only a little flame lit the area. I saw the Indian’s shadow as it disappeared around Rebecca. The little bastard was trying to steal my saddlebags and my horse!
I jumped up and grabbed at his leg, throwing him to the ground. I wrestled him over and pointed my pistol at his face! In the flickering firelight I could see his beautiful brown face as he glared up at me angrily. In the moment of my surprise he grabbed at my gun and pushed me away, scampering to his feet. I wasn’t about to let him go, and slugged him with a hard right to the jaw. His body went limp as he lost consciousness.
I stood up to catch my breath and re-holster my gun. He was an Indian, all right; a young buck, with an incredibly hard body the color of beautiful burnished copper. He wore only moccasins and a little animal skin loin cloth. He couldn’t have been more than twenty or so. His face was clear and handsome with prominent cheekbones. His hair was long and jet black and he carried no weapons, except for a Bowie knife in a sheath around his waist. While he lay unconscious my dick started to get hard , he was that fucking gorgeous. Out there in the wild, I didn’t know whether he intended to rob me and then kill me or what. I decided that I couldn’t take the chance.
I rushed over to where my saddlebags had fallen in the struggle and got out a long leather lanyard. Nearby the little stream was an old dead tree. I lifted him over my shoulder and carried him to the tree securing his hands above him. When he awakened I would decide what to do with him. I put his knife in my bag and wondered how far he had traveled from home. I restarted the fire and sat up watching him. Strung up like that, he made a very tempting sight. I fell asleep watching him, my cock hard between my legs.
The dirt hit me in the face and I awoke startled. The Indian was awake and had kicked dirt into my face to awaken me. The sun was already corning over the horizon and I walked to the side of the tree and pissed a long yellow stream. The young Indian didn’t move but glared at me with hatred.
..the rest of the story is in the native American folder