Big Game Hunter

Sombat heard the garage door opener start to hum and he sat straight up in the chaise lounge by the pool. "He's home early. Where to today?"

He jumped up from the lounger and lit out toward the kitchen door, padding along on bare feet. Ham might go to the kitchen first. There was little reason he'd go into the study before going upstairs, though. Sombat scooted into the study as he heard the key turn in the lock of the door to the garage from the kitchen. He ducked under the desk. It was good that he was so small. There were many more places for him to hide—although he seemed to be running out of good places.

Ham did go into the kitchen first. Sombat could hear the refrigerator opening. That would be Ham pulling his first beer of the day. It must have been a rough day at the office—particularly irritating if Ham was coming home early. He'd be angry. He'd want to take it out on someone. Sombat felt his butt twitch and he let out a little moan.

He listened for the groan of that third stair tread from the bottom of the staircase leading up from the foyer to the bedroom level. His heart was beating a fast tattoo, but he felt it calm down when he heard the sound he'd been listening for.

Where would he try to hide today? Ham was getting so good at figuring him out. What would happen when it became too easy for Ham. Would Sombat be out on his tail? Where would he go? Ham was all he knew here. They'd met in Bangkok, where Sombat had been working as a masseur at the Senso Men's Club. Did they even have exclusively men's spas in California? Maybe he needed to look around at the possibilities of other daddies. He'd seen someone at the grocery store a couple of times who his thoughts kept going back to.

Ah, there went the sound of the shower. Just a few more minutes and Sombat could try to find someplace to hide. But where? Where would Ham not find him until the worst of his frustration and anger had dissipated. Sombat could usually count on the second beer helping with that on days like today.

Maybe where he'd least expect it—near where he started out. Sombat raced up the stairs, but silently, like a cat, helped out by his lithe dancer's body. He entered Ham's bedroom and looked wildly about, his ears trained to the master bath, to the sound of the volume of the water cascading in the shower.

Ham's clothes were strewn about in the room. Another sign of Ham's mood. Hamilton Sinclair was obsessive about neatness and order. Today must have really been rough.

Sombat's eyes went to the closet doors. No, too obvious. But wasn't that why he was looking to hide in here—taking advantage of the surprise of being too obvious? Two closets. Which one wouldn't Ham go to for a change of clothes? But even here, why did this matter? The mood that Ham seemed to be in, he wouldn't bother with a change of clothes.

The closet on the right then. Sombat had barely slipped into that closet when he heard the water shut off in the shower. He hunkered down in the dark behind a long line of suits, making his body as small and unnoticeable as possible, and closed his eyes tight, as if that made him invisible.

He listened to Ham come out of the bathroom and walk around in his bedroom a bit before hearing him leave the room. Sombat listened for the creak on that other step on the staircase, near the top. When he heard it, he exhaled, only then realizing he'd been holding his breath since the shower turned off.

He waited for a few more minutes and then decided that the balcony outside the master bedroom would be a much better place than this. If he was successful, and Ham didn't find him downstairs, Ham might decide to come back upstairs and get some clothes on before searching further—or maybe after having lost interest in the hunt and deciding to settle in front of the TV set with another beer.

Stealthily, Sombat moved toward the front of the closet. He disturbed a rack of shoes, but there hadn't been much noise involved in that—certainly not enough to be heard from downstairs. He opened the closet door slowly, wincing at the slight squeaking sound one of the doors had made. It wasn't loud, but under these circumstances it sounded like a screech. Had it sounded this loud when he'd gotten into that closet? He didn't think so.

In a low crouch, he started to move across the room, toward the balcony.

Ham landed on his back, with a growled "Gotcha" that flattened Sombat on the carpet. Ham was twice Sombat's bulk, and, despite his age, he worked out hard and was all muscle and meanness.

The breath had been knocked out of Sombat, but he was quickly on the move, trying to wriggle out of Ham's grasp. Despite the disparity in size, Sombat was able to get up on all fours and was struggling across the carpet, trying now to reach the door to the corridor, where he stood a chance of shaking Ham off and scurrying someplace else, if only for a few minutes of respite.

But Ham was too much for him, covering the small Thai's back with his body and forcing Sombat's chest to the floor. Sombat tried to flatten out on his belly too, but Ham jerked him back up to his knees with a fist in Sombat's lower belly, which made him exhale in pain.

Then Sombat was screaming out in pain and violation, as he felt the back of his Speedo being pulled down below his butt cheeks and fingers, already greased, invading his ass. He writhed and cried out as the fingers were replaced with Ham's already-sheathed cock, and Ham started to pump him hard and fast.

With a whimper of resignation, Sombat stopped fighting Ham and lay under him, calmly taking the cocking and moaning softly.

It must really have been a rough day at the office, though, because this wasn't enough for Ham. He wanted more fight in the hunt. Without notice, he rose off Sombat and stood there in a crouch, a nasty smile on his face, while, dazed and bruised, Sombat warily got to his feet. Ham's eyes went to the door to the corridor and then back at Sombat. This made Sombat's eyes go to the corridor too and instinctively set him in motion in that direction.

But as Sombat hurled himself toward the door, Ham's fist came up and caught Sombat in the midsection and he doubled up. Ham leaned down and picked Sombat's collapsed, moaning body up. The larger man twisted to the right and tossed Sombat onto the end of the bed in one heave, where Sombat landed on his back on the bed, once more breathless. He tried to scoot up the bed, but Ham grabbed his legs at the ankles and jerked him back to the edge, spread his legs wide, and hurled his body between them.

Sombat arched his back and cried to the ceiling as Ham thrust his cock home again and began to pump. The small Thai tried to struggle up, but Ham backhanded him and grabbed his throat with both hands, not choking off Sombat's breath impossibly, but enough for Sombat to know he could if he wanted to.

The Thai continued to writhe under Ham now. He knew this was what Ham wanted. It was what he wanted until he had ejaculated. Sombat knew that his mistake on the carpet had been to surrender too quickly. Ham's arousal was the hunt.

When Ham had come, both men calmed immediately. Without disengaging his cock, Ham took his hands away from Sombat's throat. One hand started to caress Sombat's body and the other went to the Thai's cock and began to stroke him to an ejaculation. Ham lowered his mouth to Sombat's and gave him a tender kiss and then worked his lips down Sombat's throat and to his nipples, which he gave considerable attention to.

This was the part that was OK with Sombat. After the struggle and the surrender, Ham liked to play with his subdued prey. This was the part where Sombat got what he needed—the main reason he hadn't tried to escape Ham before now.

Ham pulled out of Sombat and was gone for a moment. Sombat didn't move while he was gone. He was close to coming and he worked his own cock while Ham was gone. When Ham returned, having crowned himself with a new condom, he knelt between Sombat's legs and covered the Thai's cock with his mouth, working it until Sombat had come. Ham rose up over Sombat's body then and they shared a kiss laced with Sombat's cum.

As they were kissing, Sombat felt Ham's cock entering him again and now, in contrast to before, making slow, languid love to his channel. Sombat was sighing and moaning now like he hadn't done for the earlier fucking. Ham picked the young Thai's body up and he turned and sat down on the bed, with Sombat skewered in his lap. It was Sombat's arms wrapped around Ham's torso now, and his fingers laced into the hair at the back of Ham's head, and his lips greedily possessing Ham's, while he raised and lowered his channel on Ham's erect cock until he felt Ham shudder and come again.

They held for a few minutes, but then Ham rose off the bed and dumped Sombat's body to the side and was striding toward the bathroom for another shower as he growled over his shoulder, "You'd best start dinner. I'm going out this evening."

* * * *

"We gonna check out the cabin first? Maybe fool around before doing any hunting?" The voice was slightly nervous, uncertain.

"No, we can see about the cabin later," Hamilton Sinclair said. "I want to do some target practice first. Then I'll show you how I like to hunt."

The two had pulled up to the cleared patch in front of Ham's mountain cabin in his Land Rover. Ham had set up this weekend hunting trip with Dennis, a young guy who worked in the service station where Ham usually got his gas. They had known each other in passing for some time. And over that time, their chatting over the cash register had increased in length and broadened in topic each time. They'd talked about hunting and then when Ham was sure of Dennis, who had acknowledged he had a boyfriend and that he was always cash poor, they talked of what Ham was interested in. And then they talked of dates and prices.

"I've seen you driving around with a Thai boy," Dennis once said.

"He's a young man, not a boy," Ham answered. "They build them small and looking young in Thailand."

"You like them small, do you?"

"I like them on the run," Ham had answered.

Dennis had looked quizzical at that, but he didn't pursue it further. "Does he go huntin' with you?"

"Not out here, no, he says he's a Buddhist and respects all forms of life. When I go hunting up in these hills, he says he goes and works at the SPCA. He says keeping animals alive is much more noble than shooting them."

"He work there a lot?"

"Not really. I keep him pretty busy at home."

"But he's always happy to see you come home?"

"He seems to be. I think I keep him satisfied. I think I can more than satisfy you too."

That and the sum of money Ham mentioned he'd pay for Dennis to go hunting with him for a weekend was good enough for Dennis.

"You got targets set up?" Dennis asked as they got out of the car. He left the car only with reluctance and seemed more than a little nervous as he walked aimlessly around in the clearing. He didn't seem as assured about this weekend once he was here as he had been when they'd struck the agreement.

"Yes, over there at the edge of the woods. Here's the rifles we're going to use." Ham took two rifle cases out of the back of the Land Rover. Rather than walking out to where the targets were, though, Ham went up on the porch of the cabin and unlocked the door and went in. When he came back out, all he was wearing were his hunting boots. But he was still cradling the two rifles under an arm.

Dennis drew in his breath at the sight of the older man. He had been able to see that he was in real good shape for a man his age, but now he could see that he was both muscled up and hung enough for any man to take personal pride in.

"What? I thought—"

"Strip down to your boots, please. Target practice is sort of like foreplay for me. And I like to watch the body of my prey in motion before I hunt it."

"What? I don't understand. Prey? I don't think—"

"I'm not paying you to think. I'm paying you for your ass. I said strip down." He raised one of the rifles now, loosely pointing it in Dennis's direction.

Dennis got the implication. He was babbling a mile a minute, but he also was stripping.

"Shut up. You're making me mad," Ham growled. "Mad enough that I don't need the target practice. I'm ready for the target. See that forest over there? You got ten minutes to hide yourself in there and then I start hunting."

"Oh, god, no. Don't do this," Dennis whined in fear. "Let's go into the cabin. I'll show you a good time."

"Yes, I'm counting on you to do that," Ham said. "But now you've only got nine and a half minutes."

Wild-eyed, Dennis turned and fled into the line of trees.

It took twenty minutes for Ham to find him cowering and trembling in a hollow under a fallen tree and haul him out. Dennis was relieved to see that Ham hadn't brought either of the rifles, but his eyes went big in shock as he doubled up when Ham punched him in the stomach. As Dennis keeled over, Ham got him again with an uppercut to the jaw.

Dennis was seeing stars and, although he'd sent out signals for his legs and arms to check in, they hadn't done so before Ham bent him over the tree log on his belly and thrust a cock that made Dennis scream and his eyes to water inside his ass and started pumping him hard.

Twenty minutes later Ham clinched his buttock and gave a grunt of release and collapsed on Dennis's back. They both lay there, panting. Ham was groaning in satisfaction and Dennis was moaning and whimpering quietly to himself.

"That's what I call hunting, son," Ham whispered in Dennis's ear. "Now I've hid your clothes in the cabin—along with your weekend money. I'll give you ten minutes head start. If you can be in and out of the cabin before I get back and hunt you down, you're done for the weekend. If not, we hunt all weekend. Understand?"

"Yes," Dennis murmured. And this time he didn't lose the half minute of a head start.

Ham had lied, though. Dennis's clothes weren't hidden in the house. And he had Dennis on the floor inside the door to the cabin doggie style. Later they played hide and seek around the outbuildings. Dennis lost. That night Dennis was tied to a bed so that Ham could get some unworried sleep after he'd fucked Dennis goodnight. The next day they played "hunt" in the woods again. Herding Dennis back toward the cabin, Ham caught him and strapped him, belly down, on the hood of the Land Rover and scrambled up on the hood, straddled Dennis's hips with his knees, and fucked the pride of what he'd bagged there. He even took out a camera and commemorated his trophy.

On the way back down the mountain, Ham let Dennis lie on the backseat and moan.

They stopped half way down the mountain at a remote cabin and Ham paid a poacher for a fresh buck carcass, which Ham proudly strapped to the hood of the Land Rover just as he'd done with Dennis the previous afternoon. No one now would be any the wiser what the hunting was all about up at the mountain cabin—unless they checked the photos in Ham's camera, of course.

Ham had bagged his limit. Most certainly he had.

As they drove into town, Ham said to Dennis, "That boyfriend of yours is a cute little piece. I'll pay you double what you got this weekend if you get him to go hunting with me and don't tell him what that entails."

Dennis just moaned in the backseat in response.

* * * *

When Sombat saw Ham drive off in his Land Rover for a hunting weekend up at his mountain cabin, he went into his bathroom and showered and primped and powdered. After that he put on his tightest T and jeans and drove away from the house in the sedan Ham let him use.

He drove for twenty minutes, passing the SPCA facility that Ham assumed he was going to and then into the outskirts of town—and farther—farther with each mile from the mountain cabin Ham was going to.

When he stopped, it was by a long, white-washed cinderblock building with no windows anywhere but on the front. A sign along the top of the front wall identified it as Bucky's Target Practice Gallery.

It was the start of hunting season. All of the hunters had headed for the hills. Bucky was only here because he had an appointment to show the cute little Thai piece of ass he'd met at the supermarket how to fire a rifle. He'd seen the guy in town a couple of times—thought he was just a boy initially, but he'd been behind him in line when he'd been carded while buying beer and was surprised to find out he was twenty-two. That had turned Bucky on. Wondering how tight a hole he had, whether he'd cry like a little boy while he was being fucked, became obsessions of Bucky's. Nice piece of ass and he'd been a bit flirty too. Bucky bet he wanted it—that he wanted it from Bucky.

Bucky had plans, like all the hunters, to be up in the mountains this weekend. But when the little Thai—he'd said his name was Sombat—said he'd really like to learn to shoot a rifle, what could Bucky do but say yes? Maybe they'd get to know each other well enough for Bucky to make a move on him. He knew the nice little piece would enjoy riding what he had for him, if he could stuff it all in.

Bucky met Sombat at the door and took him through to the back room, which was an open space as long as a bowling alley, with targets against a back, padded wall and frames at the near end of the room to support the stance of the shooters.

The Thai piece was wearing a tight T and jeans. Low riders. Bucky was going hard just at the sight of the juicy little ass bouncing around in front of him while they walked. He put a hand on the guy's butt to guide him past the counter and to the back of the facility, and the saucy little thing said nothing—in fact it seemed like he let his butt shimmer under the light pressure.

"Here, we'll use a shorter rifle, because you're . . . well, you're smaller," Bucky said when they entered the room.

"I'll bet you use a longer rifle, though," Sombat said. "Because you're . . . you're so big."

Sombat lifted his gaze from Bucky's package to Bucky's eyes and was batting long, dark eyelashes. Bucky felt hot and moved his hand to his crotch to reposition the constriction inside his trousers more comfortably. Sombat followed that with his eyes, and Bucky nearly groaned when he saw the Thai piece open his mouth and run his tongue along his lips.

"Here, let me show you how to hold that," Bucky said, coming in close behind Sombat, with his arms encircling the little Thai and showing Sombat how to hold the rifle.

The Thai smelled so nice. Like he'd just come out of the shower and had powdered himself.

"And, oh my god," Bucky thought, "he's rubbing his ass against my cock. I can feel his crack."

Sombat was moaning in a low, sexy tone, and Bucky let his hips go into a roll, dry humping the little Thai through the light material of both of their trousers. Neither one of them was able to hold the rifle steady, but that didn't matter much at this point.

Sombat took the hem of his T-shirt in his hands and pulled the T over his head and discarded it at the side.

After that, there was no turning back and no more interest in learning to use a rifle. Bucky had his hands all over the bare torso of the luscious Thai piece. Sombat arched his back and lifted his hands to behind Bucky's neck and turned his face up to Bucky's. They kissed passionately, and Bucky's hands went to unzipping Sombat's jeans and pushing them down his legs and then his own trousers, and then to palming Sombat's butt cheeks and separating them and thumbing the Thai's hole. He was surprised and thrilled when Sombat's rim opened and sucked the thumbs right in.

"He's going to be able to take me," Bucky thought in amazement. "He could take me right now. Have to have him right now."

"Ankles on frame," Sombat murmured when they came out of the kiss.

"What?"