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Secret Locker Room Fuck
Leandra J. Piper
Copyright 2012 by Leandra J. Piper
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used without the express written permission of the author or publisher for any purposes, except brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
The rain was coming down in sheets the night the stranger rode into town. The saloon was packed, but quiet. No one wanted to test the barman. No one wanted to get thrown out into that windblown hell outside. Instead they huddled tight around their drinks, no one saying much. A game of cards meandered along in the corner, but nobody's heart was in it. It was the sort of rain that sucked everyone's spirits dry.
More than a few people glared when the door banged open, letting in a burst of the wind and the rain and the stranger. He was tall, that one, and his duster was soaked. Water streamed off his hat, and he left a puddle behind him when he finally stepped away from the door. What attention he gathered soon left him, the patrons knowing when to leave well enough alone.
He made his way to the bar and took himself a seat, setting both gloved hands right down on the polished surface. The barman got a better look at him then, and saw that he was pale, pale like he hadn't seen the sun in years. But the barman wasn't a young man, and he'd seen a lot of things, so he wasn't about to raise an eyebrow at even so strange a thing as that. "What can I get for you?" he asked the stranger. "Beer? Whiskey?"
The stranger smiled, but thinly, so his lips stayed close together. "Oh, I never drink," he said in a voice like old gravel, then like an afterthought clarified, "... whiskey." He lifted his head up, giving the barman a look, a look that commanded attention like a whisper. "I'm looking for a place to hole up for a few days. Something quiet, if there is such a thing round these parts."
The barman drummed his fingers against the glass he was polishing. "I ain't seen you around these parts before," he said, conversational-like. "Could I ask what brings you here into town?" He set that glass up with the others and took to cleaning the next, watching the stranger close. He never looked too far away from the stranger's eyes.
"Well, that's a fair question," said the stranger, doffing his hat and setting it aside on the counter. "I'm here to work. I've got a job lined up but I got into town a couple days early. Old man Miller's been having a problem with rustlers lately, needs someone to keep an eye on his herds at night."
Well, that satisfied the barman well enough. The old rancher'd been in more than once, making much of the kind of ill fortune that had been thinning his herds like that. "I know him," he said, giving the stranger a nod. "I can't say I've got good news for you though. Since they found gold out in the hills, there hasn't been a free room to be had for miles. Even the widow Jones has some bunkers, and she's been shy since her husband passed, God rest his soul."
The stranger drummed his fingers against the bar, tap tap tap. "That puts me in a bit of a bind, you understand," he said, holding the barman's gaze as easily as he would the gun on his hip. "Might be you know someone I could bunk with? I'd not be underfoot. I sleep during the day. The job, you see. Just so long as the place has some good curtains. Have a devil's time trying to sleep with the sun in my eyes."
He hesitated, but the barman looked right in the stranger's eyes and could tell he was a good, sincere sort of fellow. Didn't seem right to put someone like that out, who'd been travelling for who knows how long to get to a simple job like that. The stranger smiled again, this time giving a flash of good, sharp teeth. "Well now," the barman said. "If it's only a few days, until you get in touch with Miller, I've got a room in back you could share. It's not much to look at, and it's not a lot of space, but allowing you'll only be there in the day, I don't see that it would be trouble."
A couple crumpled dollar bills made their way up onto the bar. "I'd be much obliged," said the stranger. "I know it's not convenient for either of us. And I assure you, I will be talking to my employer directly about making some other sort of arrangement." The stranger smiled at the barman again, flashing those perfect white teeth of his.
Now as soon as the barman broke eye contact with the stranger, he felt kind of strange. Like he'd been snookered somehow, but he couldn't tell for the life of him how or why. He put it out of his mind, since the stranger seemed so on the level, and he was already making inquiries about the town. Who was in charge, and the best places for eats. Before long, it was like the stranger had faded into the background of the saloon, just another of the fixtures sitting around chatting, keeping their mind off the rain.
It was just before sundown the next day when the barman stepped into his room to find the stranger lying there. He'd hung a dark sheet over the room's lone window, but somehow the stranger stood out from the darkness. The bedsheets only came up to his waist, and the barman couldn't take his eyes away from the pale, pale skin that revealed. The stranger wasn't asleep, either. He was watching the door, like he'd been waiting for the barman. "C'mere," he said, voice rumbling in the quiet of the bedroom.
The barman looked at the stranger's eyes and stepped on over to him, though he couldn't quite explain why. When the stranger swept his sheet away, the barman saw he was buck naked beneath, with a member that was almost obscenely large. Ordinarily he would have stepped away, left the room, but for some reason he didn't much want to. Instead he looked away from that thick, half-erect cock, and back up to the stranger's eyes.
When the stranger smiled, his teeth seemed a lot sharper than before, almost like fangs. "Go ahead," he said, voice turning into a slick siren song. "I could hardly tell you no, when I can see so plain what you're wanting." And the barman realized then it was true, he wanted to get down on his knees and put his mouth on the stranger's cock, lick it and pull it in his mouth and drink the man's cum. He didn't much think it was strange, though he never went for men before. Seems he couldn't help himself, looking looking from the stranger's eyes to his cock.
He didn't much hesitate any longer than that. The barman dropped down onto his knees in front of the bed, right between the stranger's white white legs. Now he leaned right in, like he wasn't quite sure how to go about it, then touched his tongue to the stranger's thick cock. He pulled back, just a little bit, when he felt just how cold that cock was. He looked back into the stranger's eyes, only now put off even a little bit. But the stranger flashed that fangy smile down at the barman, and gave his head a little push back toward that ice-cold cock.
That was all the encouragement the barman needed. He pressed his head in, licking the stranger's cock from top to bottom, giving it warmth with the heat of his mouth. His tongue worked like it never had on a woman, wrapping around that cock, lips squeezing and rubbing it all over in thick, juicy sucks. It didn't take much time before the cock started to heat up, getting hard as hard could be.
At a nudge from the stranger's hand, the barman pulled that cock into his mouth, and it pressed in past his lips like an invasion. The barman coughed around the cock as it pressed hard down on his tongue. He squeezed his lips tight around it, giving it a real wet slurp that echoed out through the room. He didn't even think about it, just sucked that cock like a two-bit whore, and it didn't take long for him to realize he liked it. His cheeks burned when he started to get hard just from having that cock in his mouth, flicking his tongue all round it.
The stranger thrust his cock harder into the barman's mouth, prodding the back of his throat, making him gag just a little. His eyes watered as his tongue jumped against the cock. His lips squeezed harder, tighter, reflexively, and his head gave a little twist. He lifted his hands, tugging at the sheet, breathing hard through his nose. The stranger made a low, quiet noise that for some reason only made the barman redouble his efforts, slurping wetly as he sucked with all his inexperienced might.
Now the stranger made a strained kind of noise, an obscene little groan. The tip of his cock butted into the back of the barman's throat a couple more times, then pulled back. The barman was still coughing when the cum hit his mouth, a few short bursts of the thick liquid. He choked at the taste, sputtering and halfway to gagging. He let the stranger's cock out of his mouth, and he saw once his eyes stopped watering that the stranger was just as hard as he was before.
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