Date: Sun, 20 Jan 2002 11:43:44 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Outcast of Lonely Rock, Chapter 7

		 THE OUTCAST OF LONELY ROCK, CHAPTER SEVEN
		       "Upon My Visit to a Hacienda"
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

	[Note: My Spanish is too sketchy to portray these two men
properly. I'm using the few words I do have to add flavor. They are not
meant as stereotypes, save that the entire Western genre plays heavily upon
stereotypes of all kinds.]
	If leaving Lonely Rock as an outlaw was an odd feeling, it was
nothing compared to riding back trying to act innocent. I was as nervous as
a cat in a yard full of dogs, but tried to be nonchalant, just another
visitor to town. I'd come up with the ostensible plan of being in town to
check on the funeral arrangements for Jobias, for the undertaker had said
he'd be ready for burial today. It all seemed so surreal, the death in this
small town, where everyone knew the real killers were still out there and
none made an effort to do anything about them. Nobody besides me.
	The sheriff was perched out on the porch in front of the general
store which was next to his jail, sitting in his chair cocked back and his
feet resting on the horse railing, and I licked my suddenly-dry lips and
shuddered, but he just flicked his hat back from his head as I grew near,
saw me, smiled and winked, and put his hat back down.
	I heaved a sigh of relief. The sheriff had kept my name out of the
jailbreak, all right.
	With a freer heart, I checked with the undertaker, who also ran the
tack-shop in town, so that we talked under hanging harnesses and surrounded
by saddles, yet with a row of coffins along one wall. "We'll perform the
ceremony at sundown when it will be cooler and more will be in town for the
service." the undertaker informed me. "We can have a little procession with
the coffin-barrow up to the cemetery at the other end of town. If you'll be
here at that time, you can be chief mourner."
	"Me?" I was surprised. "What about my uncle?"
	"Your uncle has declared his intention of not attending the
funeral." the undertaker informed me. "He has returned to his ranch with
plans of taking tomorrow's stagecoach to Kansas City, or so he informed
me. If I saw you, I was to tell you of this and that he'd buy your ticket
East along with his if you would be ready by tomorrow morning at seven
o'clock."
	First I was mad at my uncle, then calmed down and considered it. My
uncle couldn't feel very safe in town with Jobias' death, and the
stagecoach only ran once a week. Either he made that stagecoach tomorrow
morning early or he had to hang around with everyone knowing he had a good
bit of money on him. Yes, after due consideration, I didn't blame him for
his actions, even if they remained unkind in spirit.
	With nothing left to do, I stabled my horse, then sought out the
hotel and rented a room for the day only at a small fee, for I was
exhausted. I slept fitfully, for the heat became unbearably hot as the day
progressed. Finally in the late afternoon, sweat-covered, I stirred and
arose, partook of the bath which I had also paid for, ate a light meal and,
refreshed a good deal, I turned back in my room key and went to be chief
mourner for Jobias.
	We made a pitifully small procession through town. A few people
ambled along behind us, rather pell-mell, more like curiosity-seekers than
part of the procession. Two men waited at the cemetery, the preacher-man
and the grave-digger.
	It was a short service. I spent a good deal of it looking at the
men attending, big men, strong men, all of them avoiding looking at
me. Yes, they knew. They all knew.
	It came the point when the minister asked if anyone had some words
to say, and he looked at me, of course. I nodded.
	I'll spare you the words I said that day, though I'm actually quite
proud of them. I talked of our brief friendship and how friendship is the
only thing that matters in this world. "Yes, I was Jobias' friend." I
concluded. "He died and his killers are still free. I intend to hunt down
those men, the ones who killed him. That's why I'm staying in Lonely Rock."
	Then I nodded to the minister and he took back over. The sun had
dipped below the horizon and darkness was falling. I left the gravedigger
and the undertaker with the rest of the men at the service, black figures
on a darkening-blue sky, as they piled the dirt and rocks over Jobias'
grave.
	"Señor?" came a soft call and I turned, looked behind me. Two
Hispanic men were there, dressed in the clothing that indicated men of
leisure for their culture. Not plain white, almost shapeless clothes, but
neat matching pants and jackets, one tan and one gold, both fine-looking
men with mustaches neatly trimmed, another sign of the upper-crust in
Hispanic society. If I could trust my reading, which as you have seen had
served me little in this past week.
	"What can I do for you?" I said softly. I had noticed them at the
service, standing well back from the crowd, but present along with a few
others of their people.
	"You said that you wish to find the men who killed your friend?"
one said to me.
	"Yes." I settled for saying.
	"My brother and I, we waited for our brother outside the saloon. We
saw the men who killed your brother."
	I looked around at the crowds that were watching me, the attendees
of the funeral, plus others who had arrived at town. "Can we go somewhere
and talk?"
	"We can go to our hacienda, Señor." the second one said. "It is
only a little ways out of town."
	"Fine." I said. "Let's go." And I walked with these two
dark-skinned men. We talked on the short walk, perhaps a mile. They were
twins, fraternal not identical, they didn't resemble each other very
much. Their names were Alonso and Ignacio, and they had been born only two
years after Danielo, their elder brother. All three had been raised by
their grandparents, along with two aunts and an uncle upon their mother's
death, but now only the three lived in that big house where they were now
taking me, along with an old servant who took care of things.
	I waited until we were settled in their main room before broaching
the subject of Jobias' killers. "All right, you know who killed Jobias? Who
were they?"
	"It was two men, and they had covered up their faces with a
kerchief." Alonso said.
	"Yes, their faces were covered." Ignacio chimed in.
	"Then you didn't see their faces."
	"Yes, we saw their faces. They ran into the stable after the
gunfire, but we saw. We waited and then they came out again as if they were
innocent." Alonso said.
	"With those kerchiefs still around their necks." Ignacio agreed.
	"By then they'd already grabbed the stranger and were taking him to
jail."  .  "But we know it wasn't him."
	"All right, you did see their faces." I said patiently. "Who were
they?"
	"Two men, they work for King Carson."
	"I figured that already." I said grimly. "Seeing how it was
Carson's men who fingered Hunter."
	"Sí, we only know their first names." Ignacio said. "I remember
it because it is much like mine. He is called Nat."
	"Nate?" I asked. "Nathan?"
	"Sí, and the other one...."
	"Farley?" I said in a horror I hoped I didn't feel.
	"That is his name, Señor." Alonso finished. "They are the men
who shot your friend. We saw, they did not even give him a chance to draw,
they had their guns out already and just shot him when he reached for his
own gun."
	I stood up, shaking, not feeling at all brave. Those two. It had to
be those two. God, I didn't even want to look at them, and now...how could
I face them down, under any circumstances?
	These two men, they saw the look on my face. "You know them?"
Ignacio asked me softly.  .  "Yeah, I know them." I said.
	"You do not wear a gun, Señor." Alonso pointed out. "How can you
avenge your friend's death?"
	"You could lay in wait for them upon the trail to Carson's Ranch."
Ignacio said. "They ride it often, you would only wait for them a day or
two. Then...muerto." he nodded grimly.
	"But he is not ready yet, to face these men." Alonso pointed out to
his brother. "It is not enough to point a gun at a man and pull the
trigger. You can miss. He will need to practice shooting a gun first."
	"Yeah." I said, almost in relief. "I should practice a while
first." Honest, I wasn't afraid of these men, not really, not in the way
where I was afraid they would harm me. My fear was born of the memory of
their hands upon me, their cruel faces laughing into mine, their...their
cocks that thrust into me. I just wasn't ready to face them, to see their
faces as they recognized me, their smiles as they would remember what they
had done to me. I can't prove it wasn't cowardice, for it was a close
relative, but it wasn't. I couldn't face them, I just couldn't.
	"I am good with a gun." Alonso bragged. "I shall teach you how to
shoot."
	"Sí." Ignacio said. "And maybe, when the day comes, when you lay
in wait, Alonso and I, we wait with you."
	"Yes, and there are others who would help." Alonso agreed. "Many
who do not like this King Carson and his men who kill because he tells them
to."  .  "So we will help you." Ignacio said.
	I looked at these two men, who spoke in such an interlinked way,
almost bemused. "But where am I to stay? I have almost no money, no job,
nothing."
	"You will stay here with us." Alonso said.
	"Verdad." Ignacio concurred.
	"What would I do?" I said. "I don't know ranching, not yet, or, or
anything you would need."
	"I think we could find something he could do for us, don't you
think, hermano?" Alonso asked Ignacio.
	"Yes, I am sure there is something he could do." Ignacio said. And
he grinned at me. And then Alonso grinned that same grin, and he cupped his
crotch lewdly in one hand.  .  "I think I have something here you could
help me with." Alonso said.
	I looked at him and then I said, "And if I told you that if you
force me to do this, I will leave this town and never come back?"
	Alonso took his hand away from his crotch. "We meant no harm." He
said. "Please, stay with us."
	Ignacio, too, had lost his grin. "This town needs someone with your
courage." he pleaded. "There is no one else. Please, we will promise to
never touch you if you will promise to stay."
	I smiled. "That's more like it." And I knelt down at Alonso's feet,
reached for the buttons of his fly. "In that case, I'll be happy to stay."
	Alonso's fly burst open with a warm smell of maleness that filled
my nostrils. His cock was just beyond this too-small opening, the shaft
bulged out like an infected wound that needed to be lanced. Instead, I
grabbed his cock and yanked it to freedom, leaving the balls still trapped
within those tight, golden pants of his.
	Alonso remained still, perhaps still stunned by my ultimatum, but
when his fat, dun-colored cock slid into my throat, he let go with a slow
groan and then a whispering of Spanish syllables.
	Ignacio chuckled as he watched me suck his brother's cock, feeding
that long Hispanic dong into my throat then releasing it all slimed and
shiny with my saliva; soon, I was bobbing upon that fat schlong with a full
frenzy of lust.
	Alonso reached for his belt, but I grabbed his hand. "No, not this
time." I said as I released his cock briefly. "This time, you will simply
stand there while I bring you to your passion's edge. Later, I will permit
you to take greater liberties with me."
	"But I..." Alonso gasped out, for I was manipulating his pud with
my hand, the slimy organ making a shlorp-shlorp sound as it was pumped in
and out of my palm.
	"No, don't move." I bent over and took his slick prong back into my
mouth. Alonso groaned as I again engulfed him.  .  "Ah, ah!" He gasped out,
bending at the knees in weak pleasure.
	Ignacio grabbed his brother around his ribcage with both strong
arms and hoisted him back up. "Steady, my brother." he said. "If we would
keep this man with us, we must let him become comfortable with us. For now,
that means to do just as he says, and no more."
	Alonso didn't say any more, for he was sagging within his brother's
grip while I pumped his cock in and out of my mouth, really giving that
plump cockhead a ride, feeling the thick foreskin like wadded velvet that
rolled and crumpled as it rippled up over the bulbous glans, and then I
would smooth it back out flat once more, pressing it back against his body,
so that it was now a nearly-dry coil about the base of his cock, and his
pole pulsing inside of me.
	Alonso was now like a limp rag rather than a man, only Ignacio's
strong arms held him up still, his knees were splayed wide, his feet rested
upon the balls of the feet rather than the heels, and that golden jacket of
his was rumpled up in Ignacio's embrace.
	"Ah, no más, no más!" Alonso groaned. His cock was a fiery
branding iron in my mouth, and I was a demon upon his prick, milking that
arrogant Latin pud out of this no-longer-arrogant hulk of a man, he was so
much pliable clay in my arms that cupped his buttocks.
	Deciding to put an end to his misery, I sped up my assault upon his
cock and he groaned, his face blushed a most startling shade of purple, and
then with a roar from Alonso and a groaning encouragement from Ignacio,
Alonso's cock burst its load into my mouth and I drank him down greedily,
savoring that deliciously acrid tang of Hispanic jizz, and Alonso was
sobbing in his brother's clutch, and sagged down out of the tight hold to
his knees, me following him down and continuing to wring every ounce of
fluid out of his jizz-pipe, drained him dry and raised up, wiping my mouth
on the back of my hands, and Ignacio, who had also went to his knees with
Alonso, trying to hold up his brother, looked up at me.
	"Now it's your turn, compadre." I smiled at him.
	He gulped hard and rose up, leaving his brother a gasping wreck at
his feet. "How do you want me?" he asked.
	"Same as your brother." I said. "Take it out, but that's it."
	Ignacio obeyed and I knelt and again, from that tan-pants interior,
there came the ambrosial scent of male musk. His cock was a bit longer than
Alonso's, but perhaps not as large around, and his foreskin was longer,
leaving a small hollow-topped cylinder of dark gray-brown foreskin at the
tip of his cock.
	I took his silken-skinned organ in my hand and I did not yet touch
its tip to my mouth, but worked it like that, watching in a marveled gaze
as the foreskin refused to relinquish his cockhead, but clutched it tightly
even when I pushed back the foreskin as tight as it would go. Only the very
top, the slit and a bare oval of the glans, would appear.
	So instead of gulping him down, I reached over, and grabbed that
foreskin-tip and gripping it in my lips tightly, I pulled it upwards. It
was like stretching out stiff taffy not yet warmed by the buttered hands of
the cooks working it, stiff and resisting. I took this recalcitrant,
disobedient foreskin, in both my hands and I began to stretch it out
manually, reaching down with my lips and tongue to moisten it as I
moved. The foreskin stretched out over both my thumbs as I pressed them
below the opening, and I shoved my tongue into that dank interior, tasting
old sweat and bitter smegma ensconced inside. My tongue-tip danced upon the
glans, and despite its tender and delicate touch, Ignacio groaned happily
as if I were massaging him hard and fast rather than with the most ginger
of touches.
	"Ah, my brave-hearted amigo." He gasped out. "Take this my manhood
and make it your own, drain the very courage from my heart and the fighting
spirit from my soul, take it into yourself and lead us to triumph at last
over the men of King Carson."
	Now I had stretched out the foreskin, I again grabbed and pushed it
back and this time the glans proclaimed itself, still strangled at the
edges by the tight foreskin, but proudly pink-faced and exuberant and ready
to be touched by me.
	I kissed this exposed glans and Ignacio groaned. "Ah, tenderly,
tenderly." he pleaded with me. "It is alive with your every touch, I could
not bear it if you were rougher."
	I pressed my saliva to the glans with my tongue's broad top,
curving it to the cockshaft and pouring my spit onto the cockhead this way,
then I swirled my tongue over the glans and Ignacio's cries of delight were
deep and from his very soul's bottom.
	"Oh, oh!" he gasped out. "I shall be as weak as my brother, and
there is none to hold me up."
	"Then let's prop you up." and I pushed him back against the stove
which stood there, un-needed in this summer day and only taking up space,
his buttocks could rest upon the top of this round-bellied black-iron
object and he could stand while I slathered his love-muscle with my saliva
and kissed it all the way around at once.
	I fed it into myself a little at a time, relishing the musky
flavor, pressing the foreskin taut as I went, and as I pressed it back
against his body with my mouth, I felt the cockhead, ravaged and denied for
so long, burst free at last and rest itself from its labor of birth on my
tongue.
	Heavy, musky-flavored, I cleaned it off as I released his cock from
my mouth, and I suckled all the juices out of that heavy-soaked skin and
soon it was a clean, slippery, shaft of manhood that slipped into my throat
and the cockhead reveled there in its new freedom, matched by the groans of
appreciation from Ignacio.
	I felt then, the careful hands at my waist, for Alonso had crept up
behind me and was unfastening my pants from behind. "What are you doing?" I
cautioned him.
	"Only to repay you." Alonso whispered in my ear. "Only to repay
you."
	And so I let him open my pants and ease them down, and then he laid
down and like a timid crawling mouse, he edged around my legs and pushed
his head up into my crotch and I felt his mouth upon my cock in a sudden
warm grip that pressed down upon me in a ring of sheer delight.
	A new energy seized me at this time, and I grabbed Ignacio roughly
by the hips and I began to thrust his cock into my mouth bodily, not
sucking him as much as forcing his body to fuck my face, him all
unprotesting, emitting his rumbles of joy, letting me do with his body as I
chose to.  .  My cock was alive, it was as if it were a thing apart from
me, this one part of body, the part inside Alonso's suckling mouth, was
living in a moist paradise away from the rest of me, sending only telegrams
of his happiness which sped along my body into my brain which read them
with joy. I hunched into Alonso's mouth and I fucked my face at Ignacio's
crotch, feeling that turgid pud like a steel shaft within me, and I was
delirious from the heat, from the dry air, from the loneliness of my life,
all of these things somehow found voice in this moment of rut, and they
voiced themselves as a clamor within my skull that uttered moans of enraged
ardor.  .  Ignacio suddenly grabbed my head with his rough hands and he
began to fuck at me harder still, he was ramming his cock into my mouth and
I didn't grunt any protest, I let him fuck my face while I used my own
hands to grab Alonso's black-haired head at my groin and I began to fuck at
him, and in this energetic burst of sheer male lust, in this time, my
timidity at facing Nathan and Farley vanished for good, for I was now
loving two men and it was my choice and my life and my decision, and this
control was mine alone and could not be wrested from me by even the threat
of violence, it could only be briefly relinquished, then it returned to me
forever, and I was now truly unafraid, it was as if I had drunk courage
from these two men, and I surged against them, shoving my face into
Ignacio's crotch and my legs brushed against Alonso's broad chest,
caressing him with my knees, the only part of my body in position that I
could spare, and I felt the sheer power and strength of these two Latin
studs, and I groaned, my cock felt as if it grew to an enormous size in
Alonso's mouth, until it was as large as me, and I was a cock inside a
mouth, and a mouth with a cock inside it, and nothing more of me existed or
was important, and I strangled my joy upon Ignacio's cock and it surged in
purple heat within my mouth and I burst in sticky exultation into Alonso's
mouth and I felt the rapid spatters of salty jizz that poured into my
mouth, and I was a conduit from one brother to the other, feeling the joy
of transportation, drinking in and pumping out sperm-wads, disappointed
when the flood dwindled quickly to a trickle and then stopped, and I sucked
at him, lifting out those last few precious pearls and I felt Alonso
performing the same service to me, and I gulped for air while still holding
Ignacio's prick in my mouth, and finally, I stood once more, mortal once
again, but feeling in place a bond with these two dark-skinned stallions.
	"Well." I said. "That will do for a starter, I think. Let's get
something to eat and then we'll discuss how best to handle those two skunks
who killed my friend Jobias."
	And this time, I said it without tremor. I didn't know just how I
would do it, but the very next thing I would do was bring my friend's
killers to justice. One way or another, alive or dead.
	We ate and then talked, and it was decided that I would return to
town the very next day and purchase a gun Alonso had noticed in the general
store's merchandise, lighter than the one he wore at his waist, but as he
said it, "Plenty enough gun to kill a man, and the light weight will make
it easier for you to draw."
	They had to tend to their ranch, for in these hot days the morning
was the best possible time to work, so I left them behind in the early dawn
and ambled into town. I saw the stagecoach and I went up, intending to say
my farewell to my uncle.  .  "There you are!" the stagecoach driver, the
same who had brought me out the last leg of my journey to Lonely
Rock. "Where's your uncle?"
	"Isn't he here?" I asked, puzzled. "I know he was going to take the
coach today. I came to say good-bye."
	"Well, it'll be good-bye to an empty coach." the man grumbled. "I'm
already a half hour late waiting on him, and I'll have to make that time up
on the road."
	I watched the stagecoach leave, not really worried, but determined
to go check on my uncle. Something had come up and he had decided to wait
after all, I decided. I would go tell him where I was staying.
	The ranch was quiet when I arrived, and I looked inside the house
to find it empty. Then I went out to the barn, and there, with the horse
still half-harnessed into the wagon, I found my uncle.
	Lying on the straw of the barn floor, a pool of long-dried blood
that led from a gash in his head. His belongings had been rifled. I leaned
over and searched; the money my uncle had gotten from King Carson was gone.
	I stood up. Alone and without aid, I took my uncle's body in to
Lonely Rock and the undertaker there. Then I walked in to the sheriff's
office to report the crime. All this time, I didn't shed a single tear or
cringe in fear. My uncle had not been a likeable man, and I had come to
like him even less in the brief reacquaintance we'd had the last week. But
he hadn't done anything to deserve dying over. I now had two deaths to
revenge.
	It struck me as I walked to the general store, the money from the
Salcedo brothers a comfortable certainty in my side, bound to purchase the
gun that I would learn to use to punish those who had taken the lives of my
friend and my relative.
	Sometime between my arrival in Lonely Rock and this time, I had
become a man.

			   END OF CHAPTER SEVEN
		   Comments, suggestions or complaints?
		     Send E-mail to TOMMYHAWK1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM