Date: Sun, 31 Oct 2010 19:00:27 -0700 (PDT)
From: D.O. <celliophonic@yahoo.com>
Subject: Luke Steele - Bounty Hunter Pt. 3 (Gay, Historical)

		    Luke Steele -- Bounty Hunter Pt. 3

By D.O.
celliophonic@yahoo.com
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bestbbcstories/


                Luke spent the next week at the Indian village. He was a bit
concerned about the layoff and the possibility that Selman might leave New
Orleans, but he had to admit that it was Heaven to be able to sleep on a cot up
off the ground. So he spent his time taking advantage of the Indians'
hospitality. A part of him was also very, very interested to learn more of the
beautiful young lad whom he had seen on his first day. He soon learned that the
boy's name was Doli, which means `bluebird', and he was just seventeen summers
of age; such a lovely name for such a lovely creature. Doli was Kohana's nephew
and his father, which was Kohana's brother, had been killed in a skirmish with a
neighboring tribe a few years ago and shortly thereafter, his mother had died
from fever. Luke spent much of his time watching the youngster and every once in
a while, exchanging glances with him. Nothing more than short furtive
flirtations, but they served to stimulate Luke's imagination and he found
himself lying in his teepee  at night, thoughts of Doli's supple skin and soft
lips dancing through his mind's eye. He pictured himself slowly parting the
lad's sublime buttocks and positioning his cock at the entrance to that moist,
hidden furrow and then...... Somewhere along the way visions of Chen invaded his
brain and he was furiously imagining all the things the three of them could do
together. The thought of the two beautiful young boys kissing each other and
making love to each other's slim bodies while he watched them, and eventually
joined in, was almost too much. Luke stroked off his big black spike more than
once to those thoughts.


He thought it very unlikely though that he could strike up any kind of
relationship with the kid; Doli was almost constantly under the watchful
observation of Kohana's overprotective wife. Still he managed to catch a few
fleeting moments alone with the boy, such as when fetching water from the river.
Doli spoke almost no English but Luke knew desire when he saw it and desire was
all he saw in those beautiful eyes every time he looked in them. But such
relationships were certainly taboo in Indian culture and there simply didn't
seem a way for it to happen. So Luke did his best to just put it out of his
mind. He'd be leaving soon anyway; no sense in getting worked up over something
that was impossible.


So life went for Luke for a few more days, but soon he felt the need to once
again hit the trail. He had no desire to give that scumbag Selman any more
opportunity to tire of the scene around New Orleans and decide to move on. By
now Kohana was healing, slowly but surely. There was simply nothing more Luke
could do. Finally one chilly morning, he said his goodbyes, knowing that he had
made a friend for life in the Indian chieftain; Kohana had presented him with a
beautiful turquoise necklace as a token of gratitude and brotherhood and Luke
proudly wore it, exchanging a firm handshake and hug with the man. Meanwhile he
filed away for future use any thoughts he had about pursuing young Doli. Perhaps
someday......


Luke could see his breath in the early morning chill of the prairie and he drew
his coat tighter around him. He needed to get back on track so he headed back to
where he first met Kohana, the site of the mountain lion attack. As he came upon
the scene it was hard to believe that it had been over a week ago since the
attack. Sure enough, there was the now mostly decomposed and eaten body of the
lion, thoroughly gone over by scavengers, buzzards, crows, whatever. Luke shook
his head again at how fortuitous his timing had been and then without another
thought towards it, he rode on past it and back to his original path.  As he
crossed the clearing to head back towards Little Rock, he suddenly had a strange
feeling shoot down his spine. Like he was being watched.  A quick survey of his
immediate surroundings revealed nowhere that anyone could be hiding and for some
reason, he felt like the watcher might be some distance away. He rode up to the
top of a small rise and from there had a fantastic view in all directions for
several miles.


Luke was more than a bit nervous on this hilltop. While not many people had
long-range rifles or the skill to fire them accurately, it was still a
possibility he could be in someone's rifle scope right now. He did a long, slow
scan of the terrain, but nothing stood out to him. He still couldn't shake the
nagging feeling that someone was watching him, and he had long ago come to trust
his instincts. Still, if he couldn't see them right now, no sense worrying too
much about it. He had a feeling this person (or people) would make themselves
known at some point. He'd just have to be ready.


And with that thought, Luke Steele decided to keep on moving. There was no
further sign from his mystery follower and he began to wonder if it was in his
mind. Maybe he was just getting paranoid in his old age.The days were growing
warmer as he made his way into Little Rock, a couple days later. As he rode in,
he was mindful of his surroundings, as usual. Black men still weren't welcomed
with open arms just everywhere. He always needed to be careful. He saw all about
him the normal hustle and bustle of a city teeming with life and activity.
Stagecoaches pulling in, a wagon train looking to move out. He saw several
businesses along his route, all looked like they were healthy and thriving. Men
were chatting, or going about their routine; everything seemed just fine. It was
mid morning and Luke decided he'd like a hot cup of coffee and some grits and
toast. It wasn't long before he came upon an establishment that looked like it
just might serve a hearty breakfast. He hitched his horse and dismounted in
front of the restaurant, Stewart's Pub. As he stepped in, he failed to notice
the figure just down the street, watching him with intense interest. As soon as
Luke was inside the pub, the man quickly made his way to a non-descript building
at the end of the block, and then disappeared.


Luke stepped into the establishment, a bell dinging as he opened the door, and
looked around. Nothing out of the ordinary met his eyes; a few folks having a
late breakfast, mostly business types, a couple old-timers and one young family.
He grabbed a table away from both the door and the large front window, placing
his back towards the wall. It was how he always, always, sat when in any kind of
café or restaurant or anywhere. He was mindful of the eyes on him. It didn't
bother him much anymore, people simply didn't tend to trust strangers and he was
clearly a stranger in town. Plus there was always the fact that he was big and
black. Lots of folks never really saw many Negroes, and most probably none as
big as Luke.


A man came from out of a doorway, what Luke presumed was the kitchen and made
his way to the table. "Hello there......sir. I'm Bob Stewart, the proprietor here.
What can I get you today?" The man said the words without a whole lot of warmth,
but wasn't particularly unfriendly, more like...just reserved. Luke wondered if
that was his normal demeanor or if it was a black man's presence that caused it.
Bob wasn't a small man himself. He stood about six foot two and looked solidly
built. Probably about forty years old, brown hair, nothing extraordinary about
him at all. "Coffee, grits and toast." He paused. "What do you have for meat?"
The man nodded at the initial order as he scribbled it down on a notepad. "Uhh,
sausages, bacon, steak filets, ham, even got some fresh bluegill, if fish is
your style." Luke thought for a moment. "The bacon will be fine. Five strips,
extra crispy, if you don't mind..."


A few minutes later he was enjoying the hearty, delicious food. They got the
bacon right, just perfect. He'd have to remember to file this place in his
memory as a restaurant that could properly fry up bacon to order. Such
establishments were actually few and far between. He sat back in his chair and
took a sip of the piping hot coffee. He always took it black, no cream and no
sugar. This was a very dark roast variety, rich and earthy and very strong, just
the way Luke enjoyed it most. He was watching with passing interest some men
loading up a wagon with mail at the post office across the street, when suddenly
the bell dinged. He turned and looked up and instantly recognized the fellow
walking in. They're eyes met and Luke casually pushed back his duster from his
pistol grip; he didn't expect trouble of the shooting type, but better safe than
sorry.


The man made his way over to Luke. "Hello Luke Steele. Just visiting? Haw, haw!"
The man laughed heartily at his non-joke and Luke could feel the bile creeping
up his throat as his intense dislike of this...specimen bubbled to the surface.
Waldo Smith was a first rate dirtbag, the type who didn't deserve to breathe the
same air as decent folk.  He stood about five foot seven and was a squat two
hundred pounds, with an unremarkable face and short-cropped brown hair. He may
have been smaller than the black man, but Luke knew he was strong as an ox.
"Waldo. You're still alive, huh? I am truly surprised somebody hasn't shot out
your no-good guts yet...... But the day is still young right? Plenty of time for
good things to happen." The two had ridden together some years ago, wrangling
cattle and Luke had discovered quickly that Waldo was not the sort of person he
liked to be associated with. He was certain Waldo had raped a twelve year-old
girl a few years back and he had never paid a price for it. Luke wouldn't mind
being the one to extract payment.


"Real funny. Yeah, yer a real big man, Steele. A real tough guy. Someday I may
just take yer black ass down a peg or two. Take ya out to a cornfield and knock
yer fuckin' teeth right down yer throat! How'd ya like that, Bounty Hunter?"
 Luke looked around the room. The young family that had been there earlier were
now gone, and the businessmen types were hurriedly finishing up and paying so as
to get out of the way of any problems. The two old-timers didn't seem concerned
and in fact had both turned their chairs so they were facing the scene
developing between the two younger men. They were looking to be entertained.
Luke restrained a smile at that thought. He uttered his next words with a deadly
calm.

"Waldo, do you know what I would do to you if you ever took a swing at me?" The
shorter man snorted derisively at him. "No, but I'm sure yer gonna tell me,
ain't ya?" Luke looked him dead in the eye. "I'd kill you, Waldo. I'd shoot you
so full of lead, your stinking carcass could be used as a goddamn ship's anchor.
Now what is it that you want from me?" Waldo smirked as he peeled back his
duster to reveal the grimy shirt beneath it. On the left breast was pinned a tin
star. "You gonna shoot a lawman, negro?"  He emphasized the last word.  Luke
stared at the badge incredulously. "Now who in the hell went and made an ingrate
like you a deputy sheriff?"  Suddenly, Bob Stewart came upon them. "Please
gentlemen, I just got this place back in order after the last brouhaha. Deputy,
please. Can't you conduct this business outside?" The man was clearly concerned
about his property and it showed on his face.


The bell dinged again. "That won't be necessary, Bob. Deputy Smith was just
finishing up his shift. Weren't you, Waldo?" Everyone turned and looked. In
walked a man as tall as Luke, built with almost the same physique, he sported
jet black hair, slicked down now and a jet black mustache. He walked and spoke
with an air of authority about him that demanded respect. Luke had to think to
close his mouth, gaping open as it was, so great was his surprise. "Quentin!
What the hell are you doing here?" Quentin LaGrand was an old friend of Luke's,
another man he had met while cattle wrangling. "That'll be all, Waldo. Why don't
you head on home for the day..." It did not sound like a suggestion to anyone in
the room. Smith looked displeased but he grumbled out his agreement. "You got
it, Sheriff. Just welcoming our newest guest to town is all... See ya round,
Steele." As he spoke, his face was plastered with his signature smirk. A smirk
that Luke was certain he would one day wipe off Waldo's ugly mug. With that
Waldo turned and left, much to the relief of Bob Stewart.

The two big men surveyed each other. After a few seconds, smiles broke out on
both their faces and they clasped each other in a bear hug. "Damn, it's great to
see you, Luke. What brings you around these parts?" Luke looked at his old
friend. How long had it been? Years, perhaps ten or twelve. He flicked at the
tin star pinned to the man's coat with his index finger. "Quentin. Jesus, what
made you decide to become the law? And why on God's green earth did you hire a
shitball like Waldo Smith as a deputy?" They both laughed heartily and LaGrand
made a motion for them to sit back down. "Hey Bob, a coffee for me. Luke you
having another? Have another, on me..." He paused a moment, then looked back to
Luke. "Well, to answer your questions: as far as me being sheriff, they offered
me the job, after I broke up three bar fights in one night and the other sheriff
had just died, so they were looking. Now Waldo? Yeah sometimes I wonder why I
hired him too. But it ain't bad to have a skull cracker around to deal with
drunk and unruly cowpokes. You know, like we used to be, Luke..." The two men
chuckled at the thought of the carelessness of their youth. It felt so long ago.


"So you never answered my question, Luke. What brings you to Little Rock?" Luke
looked at his friend and smiled. "Just passing through, truth be told. Heading
down to New Orleans, doing some work..." He trailed off in his sentence. Quentin
gave him a knowing grin. "Yeah right. `Work', hell I know you're doing bounties
these days, Luke. Everyone in our......industry knows that. Heard tell Clyde
Selman's been spotted near there..." Luke chuckled. "Did you now? Well, it's a
paycheck and Selman is a scumbag, after all. So..."

"I gotcha Luke. No explanations needed. Just grilling you for the fun of it."
The two old friends sat and sipped their coffee, simply enjoying each others'
company. Quentin continued. "I got married, you know. Young gal, real pretty.
Name's Jenny... She's pregnant... Jesus......" LaGrand shook his head, smiling at the
thought. Luke looked up at his friend's words, a look of something resembling
shock etched across his face. "Wow. I mean you always were the good-looking one,
Quentin, so I always guessed you'd wind up getting hitched one day. Congrats on
becoming a father... Young, huh? How young is young?" LaGrand chuckled at the
question. "She's twenty years old, Luke, and yes I realize I'm old enough to be
her father. I'm actually older than her old man by a couple years...heh. I'd love
for you to meet her..." Quentin looked hopeful.

"You know, old friend, I'm sure I will meet her, but I really never even meant
to stay in town this long. Literally, I'm just passing through. I'll try to make
it back up here in a few months; maybe by then you'll have that new baby to show
me." LaGrand nodded at Luke, getting the answer he had expected all along. "Well
then, don't let me hold you up any longer." He stood to leave. "It was good to
see you, Luke. I hope it's not so long next time... Take care of yourself, my
friend." He held out his hand and the men shook. "Thanks. It was good to see you
too, Quentin. It has been too long. I promise to get back here before winter and
meet your family." With that the two men parted company, neither one certain if
they would ever see each other again. Nothing was ever certain in life, even
more so when you were in the professions these men had chosen for themselves.
Minutes later, Luke had paid Bob Stewart for the food and was back on his Paso
heading out of Little Rock. He truly did mean to get back up here, not only to
visit with Quentin and his family, but to hopefully wipe the smug smirk from
Waldo Smith's face.






About two days later found Luke down in Baton Rouge. He could also be found
mercilessly hammering in and out of the mouth of a young, lithe blond kid. The
boy, was probably about twenty one, maybe twenty two, but right now Luke didn't
give a shit how fucking old he was. He had managed to find a brothel in Baton
Rouge that actually kept a couple young men on the payroll. He had taken an
instant liking to the lad's honey blond, shoulder length hair. His fingers were
laced tightly into that hair at the moment as he felt the whore's very talented
mouth and throat massage him in moist, sucking heat.


"Ahhh fuck yeah, you fucking white whore! Take this black dick in your mouth!
Suck that black prick you cunt! YEAH! TAKE IT DOWN YOUR SLUT THROAT BOY! TAKE
THAT BIG BLACK DICK! YOU'RE GONNA SWALLOW MY FUCKING LOAD BOY! GONNA DRINK EVERY
LAST DROP OF FUCKING CUM!" The boy's soft orifice felt fantastic to Luke; it had
been almost three weeks since his night with Chen and he was backed up beyond
belief. The kid was clearly enjoying himself, because he was suctioning down on
Luke's cock like he hadn't sucked a dick in months, but Luke was certain it
hadn't been more than a few hours. He was good at maintaining eye contact and he
was fucking pretty too. Luke had only been ramming his cock down the youngster's
throat for about five minutes when he suddenly stiffened up and released an
incredibly satisfying load of sperm into his mouth. The boy whore sucked it all
down, like a man dying of thirst. Luke's back was arched and his toes curled as
he emptied himself into the young beauty's mouth. "Ohhh Jesus Christ! Gasp.......
Yeah..... Gasp...... Oh fuck yeah, boy.... Gasp...... That was.... Gasp..... Fucking great.....
Gasp....." His dick slipped out still leaking sperm, but rapidly shrinking.

As he lay on the bed, his fingers still laced in those honey blond locks, he was
still breathing heavily. He looked down at the kid. "What's your name boy?" The
kid looked up at him, cum smeared all over his lips. "It's Tommy, Mr. Steele.
Did I do well for you, sir?" Luke laughed. "Yeah you did kid. Jesus Christ that
was good. But in about a half hour......I'm gonna be hard as a rock again, and then
I'm taking that ass of yours, so you better be ready for a long and hard fuck,
boy." Tommy soon found that Luke Steele was a man of his word, for not thirty
minutes later, he found himself on his hand and knees, with Mr. Steele's dark,
rigid manhood pounding into his asshole, stretching him open further than he
could ever remember. He was trembling, almost crying as the black man took
possession of his hole. They spent the night like that, Luke's cock buried
inside Tommy's tush, pounding, slamming, fucking, cumming. It was just what Luke
needed to get his head back on track and into the bounty hunt. Once he got up
and around, he'd be in New Orleans in a few hours. Soon he'd have his bounty...and
of course there was plenty of young, hot boy-ass to be had in The Big Easy as
well......

 Best, D.O.
celliophonic@yahoo.com
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bestbbcstories/