Boarding House Cowboy

"Rusty!"

I started at the sound of Miss Ellie shouting my name from the other room.

"Coming, ma'am!" I called back.

I laid the small paring knife and the potato that I was peeling on the counter and wiped my hands on the apron around my waist and hurried towards the front of the house towards Miss Ellie's voice.

Miss Ellie was an elderly spinster. She was mean as a snake, but she ran a good house. Miss Ellie's Boarding House was known throughout the county, maybe even the whole state of Arkansas, as a clean place to get a decent night's stay and a good, hot meal. Despite the fact that she was a crabby old thing and didn't seem to like me much, I was really lucky that she let me work for her. I knew I wasn't much good for anything else. Everyone had said so.

"Ma'am?"

"Help Mr. Wexler with his things."

"Yes'm."

I hurried out the front door and down the porch and skidded to a stop in front of the biggest man I had ever seen. I didn't even come up to the giant's shoulders. The cowboy was wearing his Sunday best black Stetson hat on his head, pulled low over his brow. He was tall and broad-shouldered. Not much of a neck. His brown beard had grown wild from lack of shave while on his travels. He wore a black vest over his once white shirt. His tan canvas trousers were in good condition, but dusty and he carried a six-shot revolver on his gun belt. His dusty and worn boots had to be twice the size of my boots. My eyes lingered perhaps a little too long between his legs. When I realized that I could see what appeared to be the bulge of his ample manhood, my cheeks burned red and I quickly looked away.

Mr. Wexler flicked the brim of his hat up with a finger and looked me up and down. A slow smile spread across his mouth. The big cowboy had friendly hazel eyes, which reflected the smile on his lips. He nodded his chin at me. "You're a tiny little thing," he said in a slow Texan drawl, his voice deep and rumbling. "You strong enough to get this stuff up to my room, boy?"

He had two horses, one large chestnut stallion for riding and a small mule for hauling. He stroked his hand up and down the neck of his stallion as he watched me.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Wexler," I said firmly with my chin held high, while trying not to show that I was offended by his words.

I had a lean build, but I had good, strong arms from working. I know I'm short, a half a foot under six. With my red hair and fair skin, I would get burnt quick if I was out in the sun too long. I got that from my mama, rest her soul. I hated that people thought me a weakling simply 'cause of my size.

Wexler chuckled and shot me a wink to know that he was just playing with me and I relaxed a bit. His hazel eyes twinkled as he watched me with a knowing eye that gazed up and down my body. I had seen that look from other men before, only this time I wasn't upset by it. And maybe I welcomed it, just a little. Remembering Miss Ellie's words and the sting of her strap, the warm feeling was replaced by a creeping guilt. I gave him a quick smile back and looked away from him, not wanting to encourage him. That kind of attention could get a man hanged.

I bent down and picked up the two large satchels. They were much heavier than I thought they'd be, but hopefully I picked them up without looking like I was struggling. I didn't want Mr. Wexler to think me a runt.

Miss Ellie called out "Room Three!" as I climbed the stairs with the bags.

I pushed open the door to Room Three and set the satchels down, nearly dropping them. As I rubbed my hands together, soothing my palms and stiff knuckles, I took a look around the room.

This room was one of the bigger rooms, located at the back of the house. It had a nice sized bed, which a man Mr. Wexler's size would surely need. Like the other rooms, it had its own wash tub in the corner. I looked around and made sure that everything was in order. I made sure the sideboard's cupboard had a bar of soap, washing flannels and drying towels. I crawled under the bed and pulled out the long, flat storage box. I opened it and removed the extra blanket. I patted it off and laid it on the foot of the bed, then pushed the storage box back into place. I smoothed down the covers and fluffed up the pillows. I double checked the lamp on the night table, making sure it was full of kerosene. I opened the curtains and pulled up the window a crack to let the cool breeze get rid of some of the staleness in the air. I wanted everything perfect for the big cowboy.

Once I was satisfied with the room, I went back downstairs and outside to the front porch. Wexler handed me a leather bag. "I'm going to take my horse and mule down to the boarding stable. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Tell them you're staying at Miss Ellie's. You'll get a better price."

Wexler nodded and tipped his hat at me and set off down the street. As he walked away, I watched his wide, broad back, then let my eyes drift to his muscular behind. Feeling a blush creeping up my neck and a tingling in my britches, I hurried upstairs with his bag. I set the bag on the bed and ran my fingers over it. The leather was soft and worn and clearly he'd had it a long time.

Not able to delay any further, I went back to the kitchen and returned to my duties helping Miss Ellie prepare supper.

Miss Ellie came in through the back door with two fresh chickens. "You get Mr. Wexler squared away?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

I cringed as she prepared the chickens. As much as I liked eating and cooking chickens, I sure didn't like killing or plucking them.

Once dinner was finished cooking, I first served Miss Ellie and our guests in the dining room. I made myself a plate and then quietly ate my supper at the tiny table in the kitchen reserved for the help, which was only me at this time.

Miss Ellie always ate in the dining room with her guests. We only had two at this time, Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wexler.

Mr. Barnes was going to be with us another few days. I wondered how long Mr. Wexler would be staying. My mind couldn't help but wander. I wondered what he looked like in the nude. He was so big and tall, with large feet. And he had such a generous bulge in his trousers... I wondered how big he got when he was--

"Rusty."

I let out a squeak and my fork clattered to the floor as Miss Ellie walked in.

Her mouth narrowed into a frown as she watched me. I felt my face burning and I had to look away. It was as if she could read my unpure thoughts.

After a long moment, she looked at me with a cool eye and said, "Mr. Wexler wants a hot bath before he turns in. Bring up the water for him in one hour."

"Yes, ma'am." I got up and made sure the large pot was filled with water and I stoked the fire.

Once the dishes were cleaned, dried and put away, I grabbed two buckets and filled them with water from the pump. I went upstairs and tapped on Mr. Wexler's door with my elbow. "Mr. Wexler? It's Rusty, sir."

The older man opened the door and let me in. I dumped the buckets into his wash basin and then went downstairs for more. I made another trip with the well water, then went back for the hot water.

When I stepped into the room, Mr. Wexler was dressed only in his union suit. He had taken his hat off and he had a red ring across his forehead left over from the brim. Those huge boots of his laid in the middle of the floor next to a pile of clothes. I looked down at my boots and compared them to his. Lord, he had big feet.

The long one-piece underwear he wore was unbuttoned midway, stretched a little tight around his slightly rounded belly. It needed a washing something fierce. It was dingy and there was some yellow stains in his crotch. My eyes swept down his body, pausing to stare at the pelt of hair visible on his chest. I just couldn't help but look between his legs. His member created a sizable bulge that hung down the leg. I blushed and looked away in shame, folding my hands over my own crotch, where my pecker was straining against my trouser buttons. I glanced back to make sure he didn't notice me staring. I found him looking right at me.

I swallowed nervously and I poured the hot water into the basin. I dipped my hand in the water, satisfied that it was sufficiently warm for his bath. I got out the soap, a flannel and a towel and set them on the side table next to the basin. "You're all set, Mr. Wexler."

"How much for you to help me out?"

My eyes widened as all kinds of dirty thoughts ran through my head. Surely he didn't mean... "Beg pardon?"

"I need my hair and beard trimmed. And I wouldn't turn down a back scrubbing."

"I... Uh... You'd be better off with the barber in the morning."

"I'm itchin' now, boy," he said as he scratched at his long, thick, unruly beard. He pulled a small leather pouch out of out of his pants and held out a shiny silver coin. "What do you say?"

That was a good bit of money. I'd be a big dummy to turn my back on that. "I reckon I could do that. I'll go and get my scissors."

Mr. Wexler slipped the coin into my palm, his fingers lingering before slowly pulling away. I went downstairs and fetched my scissors, a straight razor, foam and brush. When I returned, the door was shut. I knocked quietly.

"Come in."

I opened the door and stepped inside and froze in my boots.

Oh my Lord.

Mr. Wexler was standing nude by the wash basin. His broad chest, stomach and trunk-like legs were covered in a pelt of curly brown hair. His member hung long, thick and heavy between his legs, resting over a low-hanging sack filled with two large nuts. Its hood completely covered the bulbous head.

"Shut the door, boy," he said with a frown.

"Oh!" I shut the door behind me and walked over to the basin.

He climbed into the bath and let out a satisfied sigh. "Oh, this is might nice."

I wet the cloth and rubbed the soap into it. I lifted his hair and scrubbed hard across the back of his neck, then down his back. He even had a soft dusting of brown fur on his shoulders.

"Is this too hard, Mr. Wexler?"

"Scrub hard as you can. And reckon you call me Hoss, seein's how you got your hands on my nekkid body and all." His shoulders shrugged as he laughed to himself.

"Hoss," I whispered as I continued rubbing. A manly name for a manly man.

He let out a quiet breath and closed his eyes. I noticed he had a few scars and scratches on his arms and on his hands. Probably from working. Hoss was an honest-to-goodness cowboy. A real man. He was used to hard work.

Hoss lifted his arm and the ripe smell assaulted my nose. For some reason, it wasn't unpleasant to me, not like it would have been on any other man. My prick took notice and it got even harder in my britches. I squirmed a bit to get comfortable, glad that Hoss couldn't see me. I scrubbed his arm and inside his furry armpit, moving my head a little closer to get a quick whiff before I scrubbed the intoxicating smell away. He didn't even flinch when I touched him there. I guess he wasn't ticklish like I was. I repeated the same with the other arm.

I moved around to the side of the basin and dipped the cloth in the water to re-wet it. I soaped it up and set to rubbing what little neck he had bared and then his chest. His chest was broad and muscular. The feel of the thick, coarse hair made my prick throb.

"You do this for a lot of men, Rusty?" Hoss asked. His voice was quiet, and had a deep and husky quality to it, different than his normal speaking voice. It made my whole body tighten up.

"No, sir," I responded just as quiet. "Well, once. A salesman from back east. New York City. He asked for my help scrubbing his back."

Hoss let out a puff of air. "I bet." His tone told me he didn't much care for salesmen. Or maybe it was people from New York City.

I don't know what on earth possessed me to tell Hoss about him, but I wished I could take it back. Oh lord, what Hoss must think of me now. I hoped he didn't think I did more than wash the other man's back.

Unable to help myself, I blushed furiously at the memory. That slick-talking salesman seduced me, not that I wasn't willing, I suppose. When Miss Ellie caught us, me on my knees with my head in his lap, she tanned my hide so bad I couldn't sit for days. She said I should be grateful she didn't turn me in to the law. And I was.

I could feel Hoss's eyes on me and I willed myself not to look back at him. While I washed Hoss, I tried making small talk to distract myself from his body. "Where are you from, Hoss?" I asked.

"Texas."

"How long you staying in town?"

"Three, maybe four days. I'm headed up to Dakota Territory. My uncle's getting on in years and I'm taking over his ranch."

"That's super. You're gonna be the big boss. You must know a lot about ranching and cowboying."

Hoss chuckled. "Mm-hmm. Been doing it all my life."

"What kind of ranch is it?"

"Horses. Cattle. Mmmm..."

Hoss let out a low groan and I realized that I was slowly rubbing the cloth on his chest and belly, no longer scrubbing, but softly caressing. I looked down into the water and I gasped. His pecker was standing hard and upright. The head reached all the way to his belly button and was poking out of the water. I froze, unable to move.

Hoss snickered and took the cloth from me. He rubbed more soap into it and pushed it between his legs. I was thankful that he washed his own privates. He tugged back on his foreskin to wash around the head and I had the decency to look away.

He took the soap and scrubbed it into his tangled hair. He scrubbed his face and then rinsed off. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Now be careful, boy."

I looked back down into his lap. His prick was still standing at attention. He opened his eyes and looked at me expectantly. I realized that he was ready and waiting for me to give him a trim. "Oh. Yes, sir. Do you want it clean-shaven, or trimmed down?"

"Just trim it down, boy."

After a thorough combing, I got the scissors and trimmed Hoss's hair down to a respectable length.

"Your hair is real thick," I said quietly as I carefully cut down his beard.

"Mm-hmm."

"I wish I could grow a beard."

Hoss let out a quiet laugh. "You're still nothing but a boy."

"I'm not a boy," I said indignantly. "I'm nearly twenty years."

"Mm-hmm. When you get on the other side of thirty, come talk to me again."

"You're thirty?" I asked with surprise. He didn't seem that old, especially now with his hair and beard trimmed back.

"Not yet. Close. Miss Ellie your grandmama?"

"No. My mama used to work for her. Mama taught me how to cook and clean and work around the house, and so Miss Ellie kept me 'round after my mama died of the fever."

"You got no papa? You didn't work with the men?"

"No, sir. He left 'fore I was born. The men... none of them wanted me around. I tried, but..."

Lord, I missed my mama. My eyes stung a little and I blinked a few times, not wanting to shame myself by weeping in front of the cowboy. Hoss didn't say anything, just watched me as I trimmed the edges of his bushy mustache. My fingers brushed against his now visible lips. They were full and pink and surprisingly soft.

I brushed the shaving soap onto Hoss's neck and on his cheeks. I carefully used the straight razor to clean the edges back until he was perfect. Almost as good as the barber, if I done say so myself.

"All done."

Hoss leaned forward and splashed his face with water and I went and got the handheld mirror from the sideboard and gave it to him.

"That's right nice, Rusty," he said as he ran his fingers over his head and his beard while taking a look in the mirror. "Reckon it was worth every penny."

I smiled, glad that he was happy. He looked much better now. He was nice and clean. His hair and beard were trimmed and brought out his mouth and especially his eyes. Hoss was a very handsome man, very manly. I'm sure the ladies swooned when they saw the big man coming their way. As I stepped back away from him, my knees buckled a little. I guess he made me swoon, too.

He stood up and I held a towel for him. He took it from me and began drying off while I packed up my things and cleaned up the hair clippings. I cast my eyes to the side, not wanting to be caught staring at him in the nude again. "You're all settled, Hoss. Let me or Miss Ellie know if you have any other needs."

"I got one more need here," he said huskily.

I looked up at him and he lowered his eyes down for a moment and looked back up at me. I lowered my gaze down between his legs. His great big prick stood hard, pointing towards his belly. It was red and swollen with the need he spoke of.

My mouth went dry. "There's a saloon down the way... They have, um, ladies..."

"Thought you might could help me out."

I swallowed nervously and shook my head. "I, uh..."

"I won't tell no one. I seen the way you look at me. You like my body, don't you, boy? You prefer men... big men like me, don't you, boy?"

Unable to look him in the eye or even speak, I just nodded. For some reason, I just couldn't lie to him and I just knew that he felt the same way I did. I somehow knew I was safe with him, but my nerves still had me trembling.

He moved closer to me and took my hand. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. His hands moved to my shoulders and he gave me a gentle push down and I knelt in front of him.

I reached my shaking hand towards the beckoning column of flesh. I looked up at Hoss. He was staring back down at me with dark and lusty eyes. He nodded at me to continue. "Go ahead, boy," he whispered.

I wrapped my right hand around him while my left cupped his heavy sack. He felt hot to the touch. The skin was velvety soft, covering that hard as steel shaft underneath. His foreskin was loose and very veiny. A clean, soapy scent masked his musky male scent. I slid my hand down and revealed his bulbous cock head. It looked like a ripe plum, wet with moisture. A drop of clear liquid leaked out and I began to move my hand.

I reckon I was good at this, having practiced on myself in secret plenty of times over the last few years. By the way Hoss was breathing and the quiet grunts he was making, I knew that he thought I was good at it too.

I kept stroking him with a steady rhythm, using a firm grip. I gently rolled his large eggs in my left hand - he seemed to like that. Hoss bucked his hips up and he struggled to keep quiet. His hand moved to the back of my neck and he urged me forward.

"Take it in your mouth," he whispered.

I looked up at him and shook my head. "Only whores do that," I whispered, repeating the words Miss Ellie beat into me.

Hoss frowned. "Well, I don't know who told you that... but if you don't want to, I won't make you."

Oh, Lord, how I wanted to take back my words and do that with Hoss; more than anything in the world I wanted to feel the head of his warm prick in my mouth. More than I ever wanted to with that salesman. But after my dumb words, I didn't know how to take it back. If I did it now, he would definitely think me a whore. I didn't want him to think of me like that. More than anything, it mattered what Hoss thought of me.

I kept stroking him, slow and steady at first, then a little faster. His nuts lifted and pulled closer to his body. His prick swelled in my hand, growing even harder. Hoss bucked his hips up and his breathing hitched. His entire body shook as his legs straightened and his toes curled. "Oh fuck, it's gonna shoot."

The wide head of his cock flared and it burped out a thick wad of spunk all over my hand. I slowed my hand as the hot slime drooled down his shaft and over my hand.

"Keep going," Hoss hissed as he pushed his hips up. "Don't stop."

I renewed my hand movements and Hoss let out a groan as he thrust up into my hand. His helmet flared and I watched as the slit opened. A thick, white rope of spunk blasted out of his cock and splattered hot and wet across my face. I gasped and my groin contracted and I let out a whimper as I soiled myself. Hoss bucked and thrust up into my hand. He shot over and over, his powerful jets covering my shirt and my arm and my hand with his cream.