Fire Down the Valley Ch. 04

"That bed's got more fleas on it than that old hound out on the porch of the saloon," Frank answered. "We'll fuck standing up. At least I ain't goin' on that bed ever again. Too much noise in thumpin' against the wall, anyway. And I always think the damn thing is gonna collapse when I get into a good fuck."

Cal was too taken up with what was happening to him and discovering, by feel, that Frank was horse hung, to latch into how Frank would know about the condition of this bed. But then it sank in. "You been here before?"

"Lots of times. Maybe twice a week. Most of my money goes into Sam's ass. I've got lots of practice at this. I'm gonna fuck you three ways from Sunday. Can't wait to get into somethin' fresher than Sam."

Cal moaned and relaxed in Frank's arms. "Fuck, do me now. I can't wait for it."

Within minutes they were beside the bed, and Cal was leaning down on the bed on his elbows and trying to widen his stance as much as he could as, behind him, Frank, his shirt open but not off his back and his boots and britches, covered by the leather chaps, still on his legs with the fly flaired out on each side, huffed and puffed to get his dick stuffed up in Cal's ass.

"Oh, shit," Cal called out as he was being penetrated. This was it. The big one of the night that would hold him over to the next evening, reminding him that he was doing this for more than the money. "Oh, fuck, yes," he exclaimed with a moan as the big cock started to plow him.

Once mounted, neither young man spoke other than the occasional "oh shit" and "fuck yes" as each worked to get as much out of the fuck as possible. Not even Cal's Arapaho lover, Ilesh, had a dick this thick and long, which made up for Ilesh's better technique—but not a whole lot better. And there wasn't a damn thing wrong with Frank's technique. Cal was luxuriating in the fuck. This was why he was willing to do this—because of the possibility of a man coming along who could scratch his itch deep in his spongy core like this Frank guy was doing.

"God, yes, you've had a lot of practice at this," Cal said, with a groan.

"Told you. Never had an ass this sweet, though. Jack yourself while I'm doin' this. Try to come together. Shit, I wanted to do it this way out on the range. If I knew what I'd be gettin', I woulda done you out there longer and better."

"You would have saved the money out there," Cal whimpered.

"I woulda been willing to pay for this out there. God, your ass is sweeter than Sam's was when he was a baby."

A long slide in and a long slide out, powered by Frank's strong, calloused hands on Cal's waist, ending in a gulp from Cal. And then four, five, or six, fast, deep plunges, never the same, to keep Cal off guard, and Cal gasping and begging for more of it. Each time.

Halfway through the fuck, Frank turned Cal so that Cal's shoulder blades rested on the bed and his legs were wrapped around Frank's waist. They each fired off in this position, Frank now having taken over jacking Cal's cock and the two coming almost simultaneously, and then Cal raised his torso and flung his arms around Frank's neck, at Frank's command, and the half-breed backed up and sat in the straight chair that was just a few steps away in the narrow room. Cal sat, facing Frank in his lap and on the cock in its momentarily flaccid condition, as they kissed and talked dirty to each other in low voices, coaxing Frank to go hard again, which he did well before the hour was up, giving them time for a second fuck.

"You said you'd be here for a week?" Frank whispered when they were cooling down in the last minutes of their time with each other, Cal still sitting on the cock in Frank's lap.

"Nine more days after this," Cal answered.

"Ah, a couple of days longer. I might—"

"That would be nice. But any morning . . . anywhere you can come. Just tell me when and where and I'll be there. I'd like it better if it weren't on Levi's clock."

"I understand. You then could keep every—"

"No, you don't understand. I'd like it better without money involved. I want you to take it from me by right . . . by the right of the biggest, best cock in the West."

"Well, when you put it that way . . ."

Cal could feel Frank starting to grow to the "biggest in the West" dimensions.

"Oh, shit," Cal said with a groan.

"We got six minutes. And I got money for another half hour beyond that," Frank murmured, already starting to raise and lower Cal's channel on the cock. "And I ain't gonna stop now for no one. Even if you wanted me to stop, I wouldn't."

"That's exactly the way I like it," Cal answered. And he wasn't just sweet-talking the customer with this admission.

"You mean you like it harder and rougher? Harder and rougher, like this?"

"Oh, fuck yes. Oh, fuck yes. Oh, Fuck YES!"

* * * *

"Good work in getting' him to buy another half hour. Want you to go in back and sluice down now and take a clean change of clothes. Then wait in the smaller room upstairs. You'll be going to the bigger room."

Cal had barely had time to settle—gingerly this time—back on his stool. He was still watching Frank stride off toward the saloon entrance from the back and thinking that, despite how wildly they'd fucked, he hadn't seen Frank bare-ass naked yet and wanted to, when Levi Yost came over and told him to be on the move again.

"An important customer?" Cal asked.

"Would I ask you to clean yourself and go wait to go to the big room otherwise? I'll be losing money here, while you are sittin' around doin' nothin' but playing with your dick. But don't you go doin' that unless the customer asks for it. Don't want you wearin' out the goods. And remember what I said about you not wantin' to start fallin' for any of these guys and givin' it away for free. Only a damn fool would hurt himself—and me—in the money making to be doing that."

Cal fought hard not to blush. Was Levi giving him a knowing look? Was Levi listening at the door when he and Frank were fucking? Of course that was a possibility. Or could he just tell by how Cal watched Frank move away? Frank wasn't revealing any special feelings for Cal when they came downstairs. Frank had just banged him hard and treated him rough that second time and been all business. Well, that was OK with Cal. He wanted big-cocked muscle men who used him hard. No deeper entanglements for him other than with Ilesh.

"Yeah, that would be stupid," he answered Yost. "Out back, did you say? The shower stall," he said, trying to get out of this dangerous area of discussion.

"There's a pipe and fence around it in back. When there's a petticoat hangin' over the fence, stay away. Don't want you wearin' out those goods either—unless you want to buy time for yourself. Otherwise you are free to sluice yourself down there whenever you want. The hired help does the laundry, so you can get into clean clothes whenever you want too. Evenings you'll probably decide just not to have underlinens. They just get in the way. You're just a bit smaller than Sam, so you should be able to get his clothes on. Do it right and you won't be in the clothes long anyway. Sam hasn't worn them out, and he has some pretty snazzy duds. Gettin' clean is up to you except for customers using the big room. For those you come in clean unless he asks for otherwise. Some men get excited about the smell of other men on their doxies. That's their call."

"You want me clean for this guy, though?"

"Yeah. And it will be your last customer for the night. I don't think you'll be up to taking on any more anyway."

As far as a sore and well-reamed ass, Cal didn't feel like taking any more tonight after Frank, but he didn't tell Yost that. Yost obviously was nervous about and intimidated by this next mystery customer.

And then Levi was moving off. He stopped halfway across the room to talk to what looked like a town guy who was looking Cal up and down real good to give the guy the bad news that Cal was booked for the rest of the night.

Feeling clean for the first time since he bathed under the waterfall on the slopes of Hahn's Peak with Ilesh in what seemed to be a lifetime ago, Cal took the back stairs to the second floor and the small room assigned to him. He pulled on a pair of tight woolen britches and a billowy sort of white cotton shirt he'd found in a drawer in the small room and he was going to just rest a bit on the bed, but he went to sleep almost immediately and it was dark in the room when the house boy came to tell him he was wanted in the big room at the front of the building.

The room wasn't all that big, but it was set up more like a parlor than any of the other rooms he'd seen. He assumed that the girls had a room or two like this for important customers. The walls were covered in a red velveteen-type wallpaper that wasn't torn or smudged in too many places. There was a big braided rug on the wooden-plank floor, which insulated the room a bit. In other areas of the upstairs the gaps were big enough to see movement down in the saloon and you could hear the honky-tonk piano going and hubbub of the boisterous men below nearly as well up here as you could downstairs.

There were two Victorian armchairs set off to one side with a marble-topped mahogany table between them. The four-poster bed with red velvet curtains dominated the room. What was most prominent, though, to Cal, when he entered the room, was that there was a big brass bathtub set out in the middle of the room, and in the bathtub reclined a huge-boned man, bullet-headed and bald, with a craggy face with a scar slicing down from the edge of his right eye to his chin. The size of him made the bathtub look small, and it wasn't small. He had a cigar in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. One of the serving girls was sponging him down when Cal entered the room, but when the man saw Cal, he waved her away and out of the room and told Cal, in a booming, bass voice, to come take over the sponging.

Cal walked over to the side of the tub and pulled up the sponge from the surface of the water where the serving girl had dropped it. After he got his hand on the sponge, though, and before he could lift it, the man gripped his wrist in his fist, managing to hold both Cal's wrist and a cigar, and held it there, glowering at Cal until Cal gave the man his full attention.

"Just so you know, I'm gonna fuck you into the next county," the man growled.

Cal didn't need to pretend to shudder at that declaration and the manner in which it was delivered. The man freed his wrist then, though, and Cal lifted the sopping sponge, pressed it into the man's neck, and moved it down over a bulging bicep. Everything about the man bulged. He was stocky. He wasn't fat; it was all hard muscle. But he was built in oversized proportions. Cal could see through the soapy water that the man's dick was standing up from a patch of red hair with gray streaks. Other than the hair here, though, the only other patches were between his bulging pectorals and in the pits of his arms.

"Well, you're a big one, ain't you?" Cal said. "I think you're gonna be real good to me." It was what Cal knew a man paying for his ass wanted to hear. There was no question the man was big—everywhere—though.

He wasn't a handsome man. His face—and his body too, judging by the scars—had been in too many fights. His nose had been broken and was tilted off center, and his right eye drooped, which called attention to the angry red scar there, obtained most likely in a knife fight. He exuded an aura of command and meanness and, when Cal looked at the scar, he shuddered at the thought of what the other man who caused that must look like—most certainly he was six feet under. This man didn't look like he lost fights—or appreciated another man taking a slice out of him.

He was a thug through and through and Cal was already having fantasies of being held captive in his arms and being fucked hard.

The man's age was indeterminate, but it must be somewhere between forty-five and sixty. Cal would have thought he was on the high side of that except that his body was still hard as a rock.

His cock was hard as a rock too. It didn't look super big on the body he had, but Cal reasoned that it likely would look well over average on a man of regular size.

"Put these over on that table and come back here," the man growled. He handed Cal the whiskey bottle and the cigar and Cal took them over to the table between the two Victorian chairs. There was a dish there where he could put the cigar. He went back to the side of the tub, where the man encircled his waist with a wet, beefy arm and unbuttoned Cal's fly with the other hand. He fanned out the sides of Cal's britches, pulled the young man's cock out, gave it a couple of jerks, and then grabbed Cal's balls and jerked them down a couple of times too.

Cal grunted and gave a little cry of surprise and pain. The man laughed and, while alternately pulling Cal's balls and cock again, slapped him a couple of times on the rump.

"Take them off."

"Both? The britches and the shirt?"

"Yaw, just the britches. I like the shirt."

Cal stripped the pants down off his legs and tossed them aside. When he turned back to the man in the tub, the man grabbed his ass again with one hand and his balls and dick with the other and went back to prodding and pulling. He slapped the ass hard and Cal went up on the balls of his feet, gasped, and almost tumbled into the tub as the man pushed his index finger up into Cal's ass canal.

"You like this, boy?"

"Yes, sir, I like it fine," Cal answered, his eyes watering. But his dick was hard.

"Hard for me already, are you? I like that, boy. Levi tells me you're new. Still tight enough for a man to enjoy?" He dug around with one finger and inserted another. He was grunting and Cal was writhing in his grip and gasping and tears were welling up in his eyes. He was fighting for his balance, but the man wasn't helping him any there, and, with the man laughing in deep tones, Cal was pulled into the tub on top of the man.

"You want me to fuck you hard, boy?"

"Yes, sir. Please fuck me. Fuck me hard."

The man managed to reverse Cal on this body and dug the fingers of one hand in the back of Cal's head.

"Suck it," he commanded. He pushed Cal's head below the level of the water and was pressing the head of his dick into Cal's lips, which dutifully opened to him. The cock pushed up into Cal's mouth cavity, under water, and the man thrust up three times before pulling Cal's mouth back out of the water. Cal came up gasping, water streaming out of his mouth and down his chest. His shirt was soaked, a transparent film now, glued to his heaving chest. The man did it again. This time after Cal was allowed up to take a breath, the man thrust his hips up out of the water, following Cal's head up, and pumped up into Cal when Cal thought he would have his passageway open to breathe. He sputtered and gagged and the man laughed again, obviously very entertained by this.

But then they settled down for several minutes, with the man holding his pelvis up to the surface of the water so that Cal could work the cock above the waterline. At Cal's other end, the man was roughly eating his ass out and making sounds of pleasure.

Just when Cal thought they had settled into a rhythm, though, the man turned to his side, pushing Cal over and moving their bodies so that Cal was belly down in the tub and the man was on top of him. Pinning Cal's hips between his strong knees, the man, again with a grab hold on the back of Cal's head, pushed Cal's face under the water, again and again and again. Cal came up sputtering, all but the last two times, when he came up half drowned, with water shooting out of his mouth and over the raised back end of the tub.

Satisfied that Cal was totally subdued and half gone, the man pulled Cal's chest up over the end of the tub, with his arms dangling down the outside of the curved surface, mounted Cal's ass with a thrust upward inside the young man with his hard cock, gripped the sides of the brass tub with his fists, and plowed Cal hard and fast for twenty minutes to his ejaculation deep inside Cal's channel.

Cal just lay there, floppy and totally subdued under him, and moaned and groaned.

He was nearly unconscious when the man finally lifted the weight of his body off him and sloshed out of the tub. Cal lay there draped over the end of the tub, his arms dangling, without the energy available to move a muscle, and watched the man towel himself off. His body looked even more massive and muscle bound with him standing up on the floor than it had seemed in the tub. And on this frame, the cock and balls, if anything, looked slightly undersized. But Cal had had the cock inside him and could compare it with other men. He was no Ilesh or Frank, but he was close.

Everything about the man exuded anger and meanness—even his attempts at smiles were more like domineering sneers. The red bush at his groin and between his pecs and the red slice of a scar on his face supported that impression.

And it became clear that the rough assault on Cal in the tub hadn't calmed the man's demeanor down. Cal watched with tired, dull eyes but with his brain screaming fear and concern—and, dammit, arousal and anticipation—while the man walked over to the foot of the four-poster bed, fiddled around in the red drapes at the top of the posts on either side, and pulled down black leather restraints. From a bedside drawer, the man extracted a short, multithonged horse whip.

Tossing the whip on the bed, the man turned, with an evil grin on his face, and moved toward the tub. Cal whimpered and whispered, "No, please. Oh, god, no," as the man reached him and, ignoring Cal's plea, pulled him up from the tub with the strength of an elephant. Cal was carried over to the foot of the bed and trussed up by the wrists in the restraints, his arms spread wide, and his body sagging on the bonds.

The man ripped off Cal's sodden cotton shirt, now clinging to his body, and the flogging began. It wasn't too onerous, but Cal's back, buttocks, and thighs were criss-crossed with welts, a few bleeding in driblets, before the man released him, tossed him up on the bed, turned him on his back, spread and raised his legs, rolled his pelvis up, and fucked him hard for another thirty minutes.

Cal had remained hard throughout the flogging, much to the man's voiced amusement.

"It's what you like, isn't it, boy?"

Cal murmured, "Yes, sir, it's what I like." It's what he had to answer. He had no idea what the truth of the matter was, though. Nobody had ever flogged him before.

"Fuck me again, sir, please."

This also went over well with the man, but he didn't comply. After he had bathed again, leaving Cal to moan and to breathe wheezily on his back on the bed, and had dressed and left the room, a serving girl and the house boy came in and helped Cal over to and into the tub. He was asked—a couple of times before their words got into his brain—to turn over in the tub, and the serving girl applied salve to the welts on his back.

He looked up at the sound of his name. "Did you manage all right? Yes, I see that you're fine."

Levi Yost was standing in the room.

Cal certainly didn't feel fine, but somehow he felt that, as mean and nasty as the man had been, he'd been holding back. Cal felt like the man would have drowned him without the slightest remorse and that the whipping hadn't been with anything of the full force the man was capable either.

"He said you did very well. He's pleased," Levi said.

Cal felt like saying something nasty, but he needed this money and he'd been warned that some of the men would be rough. He hadn't equated that with cruel, but he knew that was his own naiveté. What he managed to mumble was, "Will he get rougher than this?"

Levi seemed to be pleased by the response—the acknowledgment that, the man being pleased, he likely would be coming back again before Cal left the brothel—and that Cal knew it and wasn't fighting it. "Not unless he becomes dissatisfied with you—or, perhaps, feels that there will be no further visits with you. I haven't told him that you are temporary. And, as I said, he was very pleased."