Hot Valley (13 page)

Soon we were matching inch for inch as he gently rubbed and stroked us both.

“Hmmm,” he said. “Looks like we got ourselves an interesting situation here. What do you say, boys?” The two soldiers were watching, rubbing themselves through their trousers, uncertain of how to proceed. The old drunk at the end snored on regardless.

“What do you say to a little cockfight?” Brown addressed me this time.

“I'm game.”

He let go of our pricks, which bounced and swayed through the bars, both of them fully hard. Grabbing his by the base, he waved it in the air, striking at mine; when they made contact, they bounced off each other like rubber billy clubs, making a dull slapping sound. The two soldiers watched and laughed, occasionally passing comment on a particularly successful thrust. This continued for a while, but I was getting sore from hitting the iron bars as often as hitting his cock.

“We could have a lot more fun if you was to open the door,” I said.

“Yeah,” the sheriff said, “I reckon we could. But then you might just run away, and leave me and the boys all by our lonesomes.”

“Now why would I do a thing like that, when there's a big old dick just waiting for me to take care of it?”

“Because you know and I know that you want to get your ass as far from this jailhouse as possible before the railroad men arrive.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Nope. But I can't let you go, neither. So what we going to do, boys?”

“Hey, come on, sheriff,” the fitter, cockier of the two said, “why don't you get in there with him?”

“Aww, you want to watch the show?” the sheriff said, fetching his keys off the hook by the door. As he walked, his dick swung, hard and heavy, a sticky drop hanging from the end of it. As he came back, he licked his lips. “Well, I'd hate to disappoint you. Now you just stand back, boy, while I let myself in.” I half thought of running at him headfirst, winding him with a blow to the stomach and making a break for freedom—but the chances were too slim, and I had no desire to sabotage my potential advantage. So I leaned against the back wall, jerking myself to stay at maximum hardness. He removed the gun from his holster, placed it on the desk, and unlocked the door. Once he was in the cell, he locked the door
behind him, attached the keys to his belt, and faced me.

“Boys, you could do something to help me out here,” he said, addressing the soldiers on either side. “Take your clothes off and let me see you naked.”

That was when I realized that my chances for escape were pretty good; any man so entirely addicted to sex as the sheriff was bound to make mistakes. The soldiers complied, and stood barefoot and bare-ass on the filthy floor. They were both semihard, perhaps out of curiosity as much as anything.

“So, you going to suck me, Aaron Johnson?”

I had every intention of doing so, and in answer I dropped to my knees and opened my mouth. The sheriff walked toward me with that bandy-legged loping stride characteristic of men who spend a long time on horseback. His dick brushed my lips, and I met it with my tongue. He inhaled sharply, and put his hands on his hips. I ran my tongue around the head of his cock, tasting it, caressing it, determined to convert Jed Brown from a stern, play-by-the-book law enforcement officer to a drooling halfwit who would sell his own mother for a moment of pleasure. I don't suppose he went too short of sex in his job—there were always men behind those bars, and it's well known that captivity makes queers of us all—but I was planning on taking him places he'd never dreamed of going. I opened my mouth, engulfed his cock, and slid my lips right down to the thick, warm bush. Looking up, I could see that his eyes were closed, his head thrown back, exposing his hairy throat. He was mine.

After sucking on his cock for a while, I stuck a hand inside his pants and fished out his balls. They hung heavy, suspended from his cock by thick cords, the wrinkled sack covered in hair. I weighed them in my hand for a while, then went to work on them with my tongue, licking all around and then, one by one, popping his nuts into my mouth. I don't think anyone had ever done this to Jed Brown before, as he announced, in a startled voice, “Jesus! My balls!”

My neighbors, naked and filthy, were humping the bars like dogs in heat, sticking their cocks through. Now, it pains me to see a hard cock unattended, but I was more interested in focusing my efforts on the sheriff, rather than jerking off a couple of horny deserters. Fortunately for those boys, though, Jed Brown was a greedy son of a bitch, and I decided that this was a game that any number could play.

“Let's see how that pretty face looks with a big black prick sticking into it,” he said to the soldier on my right. “Come on, Johnson. Feed him.”

I stood up and walked over to the bars, where the young soldier was pressing himself. His body was pale and almost hairless. I took hold of his cock, which was fully hard, and pulled him downward. He knelt, looking up at me with a mixture of fear and longing in his eyes. He knew what was required of him, and his mouth fell open. His lips were red and wet, and his tongue, which trembled over his lower teeth, inviting.

“Fuck his mouth, Johnson,” Jed Brown said, leaning against the back wall. “I want to see how much of a stud you are.” He watched, idly playing with his cock, as I fed my dick through the bars. It wasn't the best head I've had, but he was nice looking, and horny, and the entire ridiculous situation was stimulating in the extreme.

“Yeah, that looks good, don't it?” Brown said to the other prisoner.

“Sure.”

“You like to get your dick sucked, soldier?”

“I guess.”

“You let those whores down in Allentown suck your dick?”

“No, sir.”

“How about your sweetheart back home? She do it for you, boy?”

“No sir, we never did much more than kissing.”

“God damn, boy, ain't you never had your dick sucked?”

“No, sir.”

“We got ourselves a little virgin here, Johnson,” Brown said. “Don't that seem a shame? He's going to spend the rest of his life locked up for deserting, and then he'll get his dumb ass shot, and he ain't never had a friendly pair of lips around that pretty dick of his.”

He was working himself up to something, that much was obvious.

“Yeah,” I said, too wrapped up in my own business to pay much attention, “it's a shame.” My boy was learning fast, and was starting to suck on my dick as if he really meant it, moving his lips up and down in rhythm with the gentle thrusting of my hips against the bars. He was a natural, and I wondered if his ass was as quick to learn as his mouth. I caressed his head through the bars, feeling the cuts and bumps of his recent fighting. I was almost ready to come.

From the other side of the cell, I heard a jangle and a sigh, and looked around to see Jed Brown on his knees swallowing the soldier's hard cock. The boy looked stunned, as most men are when they first feel a hot, wet mouth on their shaft; I remember it well myself. Brown was working on him like a starving man who has just been served a steak. The keys, hanging from a loop on his belt, were banging between his boots and the floor.

A plan began to form in my mind.

I pulled my prick from my soldier's mouth and motioned him to his feet. To my delight, he was still hard, and the veins were standing out on his cock as if he was about to come. I slipped a hand through the bars and around the back of his neck, pulling his face toward me. First of all I kissed him—I couldn't resist tasting my own juice on that sweet tongue of his—and then whispered, as low as I could, “Keep quiet. We're getting out of here.”

I moved over to where the sheriff was greedily feeding through the bars, and stuck my wet cock right in his face. His beard grazed me as he turned his head to start licking; I could tell that he was completely cock-crazed, and would be easy to defeat. With my hands in his dark-gray hair, I maneuvered his head so that I could fuck his mouth hard—but, crucially, I also positioned him with the back of his head against the bars. I fixed the soldier, who had so recently had his cock where mine was now, with a penetrating stare. He was no fool, and he realized at once that I had a plan.

Brown was sucking happily on my dick, and I kept moaning obscenities to keep him happy. “Suck that fat black cock, yeah”—that sort of thing. In truth, I was close to shooting; he was a very good cocksucker.

The soldier silently, stealthily picked up his pants from his cell floor and withdrew the belt. Thank God—he had read my mind, and realized that we must take advantage of Brown while we had a chance. Then he knelt behind the sheriff and started playing with his cock through the bars. He may have been a virgin, that boy, but he had a good understanding of the masculine mind. As long as Brown was happy, he wasn't going to be thinking too hard.

With his other hand, the soldier passed one end of the belt through the bars to me; I held it just out of sight by my thigh. Saliva was running down the sheriff's chin, and his hips were bucking; he was close to the edge. He started sucking me with so much vigor that I knew that I too must come soon. Would I be able to keep my head while he gave me his?

“Work that cock,” I said, both to Brown and to the soldier, who was looking up at me for guidance. “Make him come.”

Brown was moaning now in a deep bass voice; I could actually feel the vibration of his vocal chords on my dickhead.
The soldier kept jerking him, and suddenly the sheriff was coming, great white jets of spunk shooting from his prick. Now was the time to act.

I slipped the belt around his neck and passed the end back to the soldier, who now had a loose loop around the sheriff's neck. Just as I began to shoot my own load into Brown's mouth, I shouted “Pull! Now!”

The soldier did as he was asked, and Brown's neck jerked back against the bars. My dick slipped out of his mouth, and I shot my load all over his face. His hands grasped the belt, scrabbling for a hold, and his legs kicked out violently in front of him—but the boy was strong, and he kept pulling. Brown's cock was still hard, still dribbling spunk.

I sat down hard on his legs and grappled with his arms. He was strong as an ox and could easily have beaten me in a fair fight—but the belt around his neck was starting to sap his strength. Pinning both his wrists with one hand, I slipped the keys off his belt and sprang to my feet.

He was still kicking, weaker now, as I fed the key through the bars and unlocked my cell, letting myself out and, of course, locking the door behind me. I quickly released the other boy, who took the keys from me. I picked up Brown's gun, which he'd left on his desk; it would have been far too dangerous for him to take it into a cell with a desperate prisoner.

“Let him go now.”

The soldier released the belt from Brown's neck, and the sheriff rolled onto his side, gasping for breath, my sperm rolling down his cheeks.

“Sorry to leave you here like this, Jed Brown,” I said, releasing the second soldier, “but me and the boys have a pressing engagement with liberty. Now you just keep quiet.”

I kept the gun trained on him while the soldiers dressed; I had no wish for him to raise the alarm. Eventually, Brown raised himself on one hand.

“You win, Johnson. This time. I'll be looking for you.”

“I bet you will. You want another taste of this.” I squeezed my package.

“Goddam nigger cocksucker…”

“Where are your manners, sir?”

“I'll fucking get you, black bastard.”

I couldn't resist it; I picked up the brass pot, brimming over with four men's piss and a good deal of Old Zach's tobacco juice, and hurled it against the bars. It emptied itself all over the recumbent sheriff.

“Explain that when they let you out, lawman.”

As we left the prison, I took one last look at the soaking, stinking, cursing sheriff as he wiped the piss from his eyes and his dripping beard.

The old drunk in the next cell had slept through the whole thing.

THE TWO YOUNG DESERTERS AND I SLIPPED OUT OF Allentown by moonlight, unchallenged, and headed straight for the woods. After a week of sleeping out, three in a hut or a cave or under the stars, I had those two soldiers trained up to my liking. The younger of the two, whose name was Billy, soon became an accomplished cocksucker, and would happily have spent 24 hours a day with one or both of our dicks down his throat. And after a cautious start, and with plenty of goose fat which we got from an obliging farmer's wife, he learned how to take it up his ass as well. His older comrade, a brown-haired, athletic lad named Charlie, talked a lot about girls and pussy, and couldn't wait to get to a big town where he could “try all this out with a woman,” but for the time being he was more than happy with what Billy would do for him. I loved to watch the two of them fucking, or to share Billy, flipping him this way and that as Charlie and I abused him in either end.

How far I had fallen from my own high standards! Now I was a runaway, a vagabond, heedless of danger, contemptuous of safety, an animal who fed when he was hungry and fucked when he was horny. You would not recognize me as the old, high-minded Aaron Johnson, Jack.

After a few days, I thought the time had come to teach Charlie that real men could take it as well as give it, as he was becoming a little too cocksure and confident that Billy would take care of him without him having to do anything. So I set about leading by example. We were washing in a stream one morning, high up in the hills above a small town; nobody could come up the path from the town without our seeing them. In those rare moments of security, we always took the opportunity to wash our clothes and bedding, clean our weapons (I had my hunting knife and Sherriff Brown's gun), and take care of our own hygiene. Inevitably, our nakedness, the fresh air, and the cool water soon had us all stiff, and as Charlie and I lay back on the grassy bank of the stream, Billy moved his mouth from one stiff prick to the other.