Hunted

"You can take a big cock?"

"Aren't they the best kind?" Ben answered.

"You got family here? Or a man of your own? Anyone know you're in this bar—or in Durango?"

"No," Ben lied. "I'm here all alone. Closest one who knows me is in Pennsylvania and there aren't many there who know I'm doing the West this summer." It was a strange question, but Ben wasn't giving it much thought. The older man, Crane, standing in front of him, was feeling up his crotch now, and the other guy—did the man call him Sting or Sling, or something?—was feeling up Ben's butt as well as hanging onto his belt.

"Does going with two men put you off?" Crane asked.

This too seemed a strange question, Ben thought. Two men were feeling him up now and he hadn't flinched. "No, sir."

"I'll give you $100 for the use of your ass for an hour—and $50 for Sling here to have you afterward for a half hour."

"Just like that?" Ben asked, impressed and aroused that it was put out there just like that—that he was offered money at all.

"Yep, just like that. They got rooms upstairs here. I'll pay for that too."

Once upstairs, Crane commanded Ben to take off his clothes, and as he stripped, so did Crane.

"Pose for me," Crane said when they were both stripped and he was sitting on the foot of the bed—Sling was leaning up against the door, as if to stop Ben if he chose to try to bolt, and leered at Ben.

"Turn around . . . slowly. Again. And flex for me." Ben did so, as Crane spread his thighs and took his cock in his hand. As Ben had thought would be the case, the man was hung—thick and long. He was chunky without being fat—solid and muscular.

"Not tall, but an athletic build," Crane said. "What sport?"

"Football—and tennis," Ben answered.

Crane snorted. "I don't consider tennis a sport. Sturdy legs, though. Can you run?"

"I play scat back on the university team," Ben said, with some pride. "I run every day out here and have taken two seconds off my mile time."

"You'll find that useful. Nice dick. Work it up for me." They squared off, each working his own dick, each eyeing the other's dick.

"How old?"

"Nineteen," Ben answered.

"You sure about that?"

"Yes. Want to see my license." Both Crane and Sling laughed, and Ben looked around to see that Crane already had his billfold and was rifling through it. Sling nodded to Crane.

"Turn, bend over, and spread 'em—the cheeks," Crane specified. And when Ben had, Crane said. "Spread the hole with your fingers. Ah, you open right up. You've been used."

"Yes," Ben answered. He thought he probably should be irritated or embarrassed by this, but it aroused him. The man was hung. Ben was going to get a good fucking. That's what he'd come to this bar looking for. He even was going to get paid for it.

"Recently? How recently? Was he hung?"

"Three days ago. He was thick."

"Good. You'll want to open up well. Face me again. Work your cock up with your hand. No, not standing. Go down here. Go down on me."

Ben gasped and choked as Crane made him deep-throat his cock, holding the young man's head against his crotch until he heard Ben gag. Ben sputtered when his mouth was released. He was concentrating on getting his breath and he barely heard Crane say, "OK, spike him Sling."

The next thing he knew, the other man had soared across the room, grabbed Ben by the hips, lifted him from his knees, and slammed him down on the bed beside where Crane was sitting. Ben hadn't seen it, but Sling had stripped, had gone hard, and had sheathed himself. He grabbed one of Ben's wrists and bent one of Ben's arms behind his back and painfully upward. He grabbed a handful of Ben's hair with the other hand. He cruelly thrust into and up Ben's channel with a godawful long cock and pumped the young man hard, shaking the flimsy bed and banged the brass headboard against the wall.

"Too rough for you?" Crane called out.

"No, sir," Ben answered in a slightly pained voice.

Sling pumped Ben for a good fifteen minutes before coming. He'd forced Ben to go up on his knees on the bed, and Crane reached under the young man's belly and milked his cock, with Sling not shooting off until Ben had.

Sling rolled off Ben and Crane took up the position he'd left, working a thicker cock inside Ben than Sling had had. He established a slow-to-fast rhythm fuck, his hands grasping Ben's hips to hold the young man in place. Ben didn't object to this in any way. He'd come to the bar looking for a rough fuck. He was getting a rough fuck.

Sling moved to the bed above Ben, grasping the young man's wrists and holding him in place, while he waved his cock in Ben's face until Ben got the idea and sucked his cock while Crane was riding his ass.

Afterward, Ben lay in place, belly to bed, moaning and nearly purring, as the two men used the bathroom to clean themselves.

When Crane came out of the bathroom and while he was dressing, he said. "You say you're here for two more weeks."

"Not quite. Two days less than that," Ben answered, his voice subdued, half wanting one or both of them to come behind him and fuck him again.

"And you say you're here alone."

"Yes, I'm here alone."

"I have a ranch east of town. I'll pay you $2,000 to come stay at the ranch until you fly out, for you to take whatever Sling and I give you during that time. Think about it. You have until Sling comes out of the shower and dresses to decide."

So, three days later Ben drove down from the Vallecito Mountains to the Shadow Rranch, knowing what he'd find there, wanting what he'd find there, and getting fucked royally as soon as he arrived.

After he'd cleaned himself up a servant showed him out of the house and to an outbuilding, where the staff ate its meals. There were about a dozen men eating at a couple of long tables. To the surprise of both of them, one of the men was Ed, the Ute hunk from a few days previously.

"You work here?" Ben asked.

"What are you doing here? You don't want to be here," Ed said, as he motioned Ben to sit. He looked around the room and must have decided he didn't like who was observing them, because when Ben asked him why he shouldn't want to be there, he clammed up and didn't speak again until after Ben had finished eating. He then motioned Ben to follow him outside and headed for the door.

"Mr. Crane paid me to be here until I flew back to Pennsylvania," Ben said.

"Crane? You didn't—?"

"Fuck him? Yes, and the ranch foreman too. I ran into them at Colorow's, in Durango—the bar you told me about."

"Listen, I didn't tell Crane about you—that you were randy and would put out. I didn't tell him anything about you," Ed said, his voice nervous.

"I never thought you did. What's the matter?"

"Probably nothing. Listen, don't act that we've ever met before. You sleeping in the big house?"

"No, I don't think so. My suitcase has been taken to a room in the bunkhouse, I've been told."

"Good. I'm in there too," he said, and then he was standing, looking around nervously, and he was gone.

He wasn't gone forever, though. Late in the night, Ben heard the door to his room open. Even though they weren't big, there were separate rooms in the bunkhouse for the living-in workers. The hall light was on and Ben was able to recognize Ed, so the young man didn't challenge him or anything—Ben just moved the covers off his body, revealing that he was sleeping naked, and turned onto his back.

Ben opened his legs to the Ute hunk, as he came done on top of him, spreading his legs, bending his knees, and pressing his pelvis up to Ed by leveraging his feet on the mattress. They kissed, Ed embraced Ben closely, entered him deeply, and took him swiftly.

Afterward, still lying on top of Ben, although taking most of his weight on his knees and elbows, still inside the younger man, Ed urgently whispered to Ben. "I was serious at dinner. There's some bad shit going on here. In the morning, you need to get back in that Jeep and ride the hell out of here."

"I don't know that I can now that I've found you are here." Ben ran his hands over the Ute hunk's hard body. Ben knew Ed wanted him again. Ben knew he wanted Ed again.

"I'll give you my number. I'll meet you somewhere else. Anywhere else. Just not here. You need to get out of here."

"Not just this minute, though," Ben said, still trying to take this lightly—assuming that Ed was jealous that he was letting Crane do him and that the ranch foreman, Sling, was taking a piece of him too. Ben wasn't sure himself that he wanted to just be giving it to Ed. "Not just this minute," Ben repeated. "You're hard inside me again. You're going to fuck me again."

"Yes, I'm going to fuck you again," Ed growled. And then he did.

* * * *

Ben got to breakfast in the staff dining building late the next morning. Ed had been in his bed when he went to sleep, exhausted by the virile attentions of the Ute hunk, but he was gone when Ben woke. And he was on a horse, with a couple of other ranch hands, ready to go out on a fence-mending job when Ben emerged from the bunkhouse.

"Remember what I said," Ed called out to him. "This morning."

"Yes, right, this morning. After breakfast," Ben said as he walked on to the dining building.

He wasn't sure whether he'd really leave right after breakfast or not, though. He wasn't one to sneeze at the $2,000 Crane had offered him to be here for the next week. He'd have to mull that over breakfast. As it turned out, Ben hadn't even finished his breakfast when Sling was coming into the dining building looking for him.

"Wolf that down and get your tail out here," Sling said, coming up beside Ben and making plain that if the young man didn't rise for the table himself, Sling would pull him up and hustle him out. "We're going hunting today."

"Hunting? I don't hunt," Ben said. "Don't know the first thing about it."

"No one gives a shit whether you can hunt or not," Sling said. "You can fetch and carry, and Mr. Crane wants another set of muscles for his hunting trip up into the mountains."

When Ben came out of the building, Sling possessively bundling him along, he saw that four horses were prancing around in the dirt courtyard between the buildings. Crane was on one horse already, there were two horses saddled for Sling and Ben, and there was a loaded pack horse.

Ben could tell which horse was his. There were rifles hanging in holsters off the saddles of Crane's and Sling's horses. There wasn't one on his horse. The packhorse was carrying quite a load.

"We're taking all that?" Ben turned and asked Sling. He was gesturing at the pack horse.

"We hunt until Mr. Crane is satisfied. If that takes a couple of days in the mountains, he still wants to be comfortable. Now get on that horse and don't hold us up. And don't tell me you don't know how to mount and ride a horse."

"I know how to mount and ride a horse," Ben shot back, not too politely. Sling fucked great but he was an asshole otherwise.

"Well, Mr. Crane and I know how to mount and ride you—and we're gonna be doing a lot of that on this hunting trip—so don't give me none of your lip."

Ben buttoned up his lip and concentrated on not making a fool of himself in mounting his horse, pointing it toward the mountains on the south side of the ranch, and keeping up with the other two men as they rode out onto the range.

All thought of getting in his Jeep and escaping the ranch had drained completely from his mind.

* * * *

This was Ben's first summer in the mountains of Colorado but it wasn't his first experience of riding horses. His uncle had horses and Ben rode them regularly, but other relatives of Ben's had ranches or farms and horses too. So, he had no trouble keeping up with the other two as they road up into the mountains at the south end of Shadow Ranch. Crane told him they were still on his property and would remain on his property, so he didn't fuck what the hunting regulations or licensing requirements were.

"What are we hunting?" Ben asked.

But the only answer Crane gave was, "You'll see." Sling said little or nothing himself. He just rode close enough to Ben and kept such a controlling eye on him that Ben thought the man was more his jailer than Crane's ranch foreman. One thing had been made clear to Ben—well, two things. He was along to fetch and carry, but, more important, he was along to provide the men with a fuck toy.

At noon they stopped by a mountain stream, and Crane commanded Ben to strip and cavort in the stream for his viewing pleasure while Sling set up lunch. This, of course, didn't surprise Ben, and he stripped down and did as commanded. This was what he was being paid $2,000 to do. After they'd eaten, with Ben told to remain naked and Crane watching him move around and fisting his cock while he watched, Sling took out several lengths of leather strips.

"Go over to the fir tree over there," Crane said to Ben.

As soon as Ben realized that he was going to be bound in the tree in such a way that his arms were bound with the leather straps over his head and his legs spread and his ankles bound on other branches so that he essentially was in the same sling fuck position that Sling had taken him in Crane's bedroom back at the ranch the previous day, Ben half objected. "You don't need to do this."

"I want to do this," Crane answered. "Remember, I paid you for your ass for however I wanted to take it."

And take it both Crane and Sling did, stripping off their jeans and briefs and coming in between Ben's legs, grasping his hips, impaling his channel on their hard cocks, one after the other, and fucking him to their completions. The boughs of the fir made a swishing sound as the men pulled his channel on and off their cocks, Crane being thicker and more demanding on Ben's channel walls and Sling longer and more demanding in reaching up into Ben's intestines. It was OK with Ben, though. Both men slapped him around a bit, but it only added to his arousal, and he arched his shoulders and head back and gave the men the responses of being taken gloriously that he knew they wanted to hear. Ben was beginning to get a glimmer of what the two were hunting.

The afternoon ride was rougher on Ben. Not only was the ground rockier and the incline steeper, but his ass was more painful—not just from the fucking but also because Crane had made him hold in a big butt plug. "I want you open for me for later," Crane had said.

Later came in the twilight, after a ride along the tree line near the summit of the mountain, settling down in a glade in a hollow, the men putting up two tents, Sling fixing supper, and then Crane commanding Ben to strip again. This was when the two men doubled Ben. He'd never taken two at the same time before, but the butt plug, indeed had kept him open, and, with Crane standing in front of him, crouched, with Ben's thighs resting on Crane's thighs, and Sling standing behind him, grasping his waist and controlling the rise and fall of Ben's body, the two men both drove their cocks up inside Ben's channel and fucked him to a three-way ejaculation.

Afterward, Ben completely cowed and submissive to any manipulation, Sling draped the young man, belly down, over a saddle resting on the ground, tied off his wrists around the trunk of a small tree above his head, spread his legs, and staked out his ankles. During the evening, while they were sitting around the campfire and drinking whiskey, Crane and Sling, as the mood struck them, mounted Ben's ass and fucked him again.

After dousing the fire, they simply covered Ben with a blanket and went to their separate tents to sleep.

Ben woke the next morning to the pain of being kicked in the side. He opened his eyes to find both men already dressed, grinning, and resting their rifles, business end pointed to the ground and standing on either side. Sling pulled the blanket off Ben. While he was unbinding Ben and Ben turned over and sat on the ground, rubbing his wrists to dispel the numbness, Crane laughed.

"You asked what we were coming up here to hunt. We're here to hunt you."

That didn't surprise Ben, until, with a laugh, Crane continued. "With our rifles. We like our game to have some intelligence. It's a good thing for you that you've shaved two seconds off your running time this summer. It's time to take advantage of that. Run. In any direction you want."

"Wait. You can't . . . you can't just—" Ben muttered, scared and confused, but then he yelped, as Sling gave him a swift kick in the bare buttocks.

"You agreed that we could do whatever we wanted to you," Crane said. "This is what we want to do to you. We want to hunt you down and shoot you. You should have asked for more clarification." He laughed.

"You heard the man," Sling growled. "Run. There's no sport in shooting you here, but we'd do it piecemeal for the pleasure of it, if that's what you want."

"No, wait," Ben said, but he'd come up into a crouch.

"It's sport. You'll get a head start," Crane said, nudging Ben's shoulder with the barrel of his rifle. Then, when Ben didn't take off, he fired the rifle close to Ben's bicep, kicking up stones that cut into Ben's shins. Ben went up like a jackrabbit then and headed for the densest section of trees, downhill from the camp. When he reached the fringe of the foliage, though, he turned around, looking panicked, and cried. "No, you can't do this."

Sling laughed, raised his rifle, and fired. The pain on Ben's arm, although it was only grazed by the bullet, was searing and a shock that mobilized him to turn and stumble through the undergrowth in a zigzag pattern. He heard two more shots, but he kept running, using whatever he could as cover in his fight for evasion and survival. The ground was rocky, but they'd let him keep his athletic shoes on the previous night. Now he knew why—it was more sporting. It might prolong their hunt. His panic carried him swiftly downward. He had to reach the ranch. It didn't matter that it was too far away to get to in time or that he didn't know if anyone would help him even if he got there. He knew know why Ed wanted him to clear out. He knew too why Crane had asked him all those questions about if he were here alone. He hadn't mentioned his uncle, but that didn't matter anyway. His uncle thought he already was back in Pennsylvania.

He moved around for some twenty minutes, getting better and better at not making noise. From time to time, he knew someone else was out there—that he wasn't alone. And once a shot had come very close, but Ben had dived into the underbrush and scrambled away on his knees and elbows.

Another time he heard a shot, but it wasn't close by. The shot was misleading, though, because it made him think that they were getting farther away. He hadn't given a thought to the possibility that they had split up, but obviously they had. He tripped on a tree route and sprawled onto the ground on his back. He went up on his elbows but he found that he was looking into the barrel of a rifle. Crane was at the other, stock, end. He was grinning.

"Say good-bye, son. You were a great lay. You're even better blood sport."

Ben shut his eyes tight. He was too exhausted to fight it anymore. He had always thought that the shot that got you would be something you didn't hear. He was wrong about the shot this time. It rang in his ears. He opened his eyes. The expression on Crane's face was one of great surprise as the spot of red in the middle of his chest blossomed like an opening rose and he crumpled to the ground.

* * * *

Ben held Ed inside him, clutching the Ute's buttocks and comforted by the weight of the man's body on his, until Ed's legs were cramping and he rolled off to the side. Ed cupped Ben's chin in his rough, calloused hand, the manly texture of it sending a chill up the young college student's spine, and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

"How did you know? You warned me," Ben whispered.