Colorado

They stopped at a work house in Denver and picked up Timothy. Another orphan, Timothy had aged out of an orphanage and had gone directly out on the street. A saloon owner had tried him out in his upstairs operation and had offered him a job, but Timothy wanted to work his way farther West, he'd said. So, the saloon owner, for a finders' fee, had written to McCoy, offering the young man's contract for sale.

They were in Denver for three days before starting up into the Rockies. Cedar Hill was a copper mining town in a valley inside the mountain range to the northwest of Denver. It would take them another three days to get there over rough terrain. The stopover in Denver was for McCoy and Givens to put Timothy through his paces to see if he could be sold in Cedar Hill along with Billy.

Apparently he passed with flying colors. Within Billy's hearing, Givens had said, "He's a tough one. It will be a good pairing. Timothy can take the cowboys and miners and Billy the farmers and shopkeepers. That way Billy will last longer."

That didn't sound too good to Billy, although he kept thinking that he wouldn't be doing this for too long—just enough for a stake to go over the Rockies and down to the Pacific Ocean at the base of the range. When he'd seen the mountains from Denver and had remarked on how high they were, he'd asked if the ocean was just on the other side and had received the affirming, "Just about."

On the third day, he worked up the courage to ask Givens—not enough courage to ask McCoy—"How come this saloon in Cedar Hill has the need for two new ones? Did the old ones go over the mountains to California?"

Givens had answered, "It's a job where fresh men are always welcome, and, yes, probably, the men holding the jobs before just went on to California." Then he changed the subject. He bit his tongue from adding, "or on to glory."

When they got to Cedar Hill, mostly a scattering of shacks on a mountainside with mine shaft openings and one short street of stores, the saloon, a stables, a small hotel, a doctor's office and infirmary, a jail, and a bank at the base, Billy was to find that there was to be no division of labor between him and Timothy in terms of the occupation of the clients.

As soon as the men of the town—there were few women, and no young ones, even among Billy's and Timothy's female counterparts upstairs at the saloon—heard there was fresh young male tail for sale in town upstairs over at the saloon, they were swarming in—miners, farmers, cowboys, storekeeps, and even the sheriff and his deputies. Men needed their sexual release. In circumstances where there are no or few women—on naval ships, in prisons, or in frontier mining towns like Cedar Hill, they learn to make do with what is there. What was normally in Cedar Hill other than at the saloon was mostly grizzled, rough-mannered men aging before their time. Occasionally, a young, good-looking one came thinking he was going to mine gold, but he invariably became the one mined and either moved on within days of arriving or got shot standing between two men fighting over his ass.

Billy and Timothy were handsome young men with supple skin and good muscle tone. In Cedar Hill, that otherwise was known as "fresh meat." And fresh meat didn't stay fresh here too long. That the saloon put a price on their asses took all of the guessing and running to ground work out of getting mounted and spouted.

Once in residence upstairs at the saloon, neither young man left the room assigned to him for five days. In that time, neither one closed his legs, and for that time, it was a rare occasion that one cock pulled out of either of the young men's asses more than a minute before the next one entered it.

Billy didn't get just the storekeeps, bankers, teachers, and farmers. He got the cowboys and the miners too. The miners weren't so bad. They tended to be weaker and older and coughed a lot, taking only a few thrusts before producing weak ejaculations and being satisfied that they had managed that. The main trouble with them was the black dust under their nails and in the creases of their skin, much as the farmers had dirt there. The farmers were the most diffident, hurried, and stingy with their tips—meaning they didn't tip the prostitutes.

The bankers, clerks, storekeeps, and teachers did their business quickly, entering from the back of the saloon and leaving the same way. Often a hand job or blow job was enough to give them relief and send them on their way.

The cowboys were, as a group, the roughest, but, as far as being an arousing sex partner to the male whores, they were the most desirable, as they usually were the youngest and fittest. They could ride a horse for days, so they could ride a man's ass for hours, given the money to do so. If a male whore ran off with a banker or storekeep, it was for the money. If they ran off with a cowboy, it was for the sex.

All of the men fucked with their boots on, but the cowboys, in shape, full of cum, and in town for only an hour or two, were prone to coming upstairs drunk and full of vinegar; using their boots as directional devices, toeing or kicking Billy and Timothy to the position they wanted to fuck them in; holding them down with the booted foot; and mounting and fucking them with such energy and vigor that the springs of the bed squealed and the headboards drummed against the thin walls of the room.

But the worst of the worst were the sheriff and his deputies. There was no one to tell them there were any limits to what they could do, and, like the cowboys, they could ride for hours and be rough and cruel about it. They chose Billy, already exhausted, lying on his bed panting and moaning and unable to close his legs, on the fifth day.

The sheriff's idea of foreplay was fists and riding crops. The three men worked Billy over real good before they fucked him in a round-robin, double-penetration orgy. It only added to the liberties they took that Billy responded to the beating with arousal and begging for the fuck. After the first couple of times, he was able to handle the double fuck without passing out. Still, they did it so much that damage was unavoidable.

On the sixth day, Billy went to the doctor's infirmary, and the saloon owner put in an order for another male prostitute with McCoy and Givens, who were on their way out of town.

On the tenth day, Billy was back at work, though, and most men in town who wanted male tail and who could afford to pay for it had already spent their monthly allowance for this pleasure. Business upstairs at the Cedar Hill Saloon slowed down. Cowboys still came to town, but to hold the fort until McCoy and Givens arrived with fresh meat again, the saloon owner was directing most of these to Timothy, who indeed proved to be a tough bird. Of course he'd had two years on the streets of Denver before coming here and Billy had not.

One day there were two cowboys paying for services at the same time. The saloon owner looked them over and sent the less mean looking one to Billy's room. He had picked well.

The cowboy, giving his name as Chet, was a lover. He was young and good looking. He'd come from wealth in Virginia and was in the West for the adventure. He talked with Billy while they slowly undressed—whereas most clients were in a hurry to get Billy stripped and the only thing they needed to adjust in their clothes were the buttons on their britches' flies.

"Your body is so beautiful," he said, sitting close to Billy and stroking Billy's cock after he'd encouraged Billy to do the same for him at the same time. "How has a man as beautiful as you come to be here, in this town, in this room?"

"I was an orphan in Kansas. I'm working my way to California."

"California is my goal too," Chet said, but then, having helped Billy strip down to the skin and both of them being in erection, talking ceased and the only sounds to be heard were Chet working down Billy's lips, throat, chest, and Billy returning the favor with his tongue, teeth, and lips, as Chet laid Billy back on the bed.

"This is so nice and not what I'm used to," Billy murmured, averse to pointing out that the minutes were ticking away and wanting to be fair to this well-mannered and arousing cowboy, "And we must watch the time. Best that you put it in me now."

"I've paid for two hours of your luscious body," Chet answered. "I expect I'll put it in you and give you my seed at least twice in that time. I'm not in a hurry. I find taking it slow increases the pleasure when I've gotten inside a guy."

Before Billy could respond to that, Chet had swallowed his cock and was giving him slow, deep head. Other men sucked Billy's small cock, but few took much time with it before they were inside him and getting as much bang for their buck that they could.

Chet was taking his time, making slow love to Billy's body—worshipping Billy's body even—before gently rolling Billy onto his side, pulled into Chet's belly, bending Billy's left leg up into his stomach for a clear shot into the young man's gaping hole and at the moment of taking Billy's lips with his, slowly entering the young man's passage and languidly starting a stroking journey to the quick of him. He was right about being methodical in that Billy's passage was open to him and aching to caress the cock once it was inside him.

The one thing that Chet did that all other cowboys did, was that he kept his boots on.

Chet fucked him twice more in the two-hour session, once with both on their knees on the bed, with Billy's back pulled in close to Chet's front and his calves streaming back alongside Chet's calves. Chet was inside Billy, slow fucking him. He was cupping Billy's chin and holding Billy's head into the hollow of his shoulder. His other hand had reached around and laced Billy's balls and the root of his cock in his fingers and he was slow jacking Billy to the rhythm of the fuck of the cock.

Billy had not known that he had sighs and low, passionate moans in his quiver of responses, but he knew that now. Now he also knew what "making love" meant.

Before the two hours were up, the two were lapping each other in the bed. Chet was on his haunches on the bed, facing Billy, while Billy's thighs were straddling Chet's. Chet's cock was buried in Billy's passage. Billy was reclining back on his elbows. Chet's hands were gripping Billy's hips and pulling his passage on and off the cock. Chet had come three times, filling Billy's channel deep, and Billy had come four times, more than he had done with any other man, more than he would do in a day of many men, one after the other.

When both had ejaculated, Billy raised his chest to Chet's and they kissed passionately.

"If . . . if . . . you want, you can have me again . . . and again," Billy whispered, uncertain what to say, as he'd never had a reason to say this before. "You wouldn't have to pay. We can maybe find someplace else to meet."

"I'm only here for today," Chet said, a statement that almost caused Billy to sob. He'd finally found someone who spent time with him and fucked him right. Billy only now knew what being fucked right meant. Perhaps, he thought, it shouldn't have happened at all. It can only sour everything else now. "I'm coming back from a cattle drive, headed for Utah. It's that season. Cattlemen will be coming through here now from the cattle sales in Texas, going home to western Colorado and Utah."

"There's a western Colorado and Utah?" Billy asked. "Isn't the Pacific Ocean just across the mountains to the west?"

"No, sorry, it's still a long way from here to the coast."

Billy gave a sob. "Do the other cattlemen coming through here fuck like you do?"

"I wouldn't count on it," Chet answered, in a low voice. He was stroking Billy's blond, curly hair with his hand, as Billy shuddered in sobs. "There, there, little one, don't cry," Chet whispered. He pressed Billy's back on the bed, on his back, and stretched his own body above. Snuffling, Billy bent and spread his legs, reached down to grasp Chet's hard cock, and guided it into his passage.

Chet hadn't taken more than three strokes before there was a banging on the door and the saloon owner's call of "Time's up."

Chet quickly dressed as Billy lay on the bed and watched him with longing eyes. There wasn't much else to be said in the circumstance, so Chet just gave Billy a salute and went to the door. As he was leaving, the manager of one of the copper mines was entering, already unbuttoning his fly.

Two days later, the sheriff and his deputies arrived again. Having been told that Timothy was available, the sheriff said he preferred Billy. They nearly beat him to a pulp and double fucked him brutally. At the end of the day he was back in the doctor's infirmary.

* * * *

Bryan Barnes had come quietly into town and checked into the Cedar Hill Hotel, an establishment with all of four rooms above a dining room and with a two-seater outside behind, with the modern convenience of separate "his" and "her" compartments.

He was returning to his Utah ranch from having driven his annual selection of cattle to the Texas slaughter houses. Cedar Hill was off the path of his return, and he'd sent his son, Larry, and the rest of the crew he'd taken with him by the direct route, but Bryan had a problem. It was a problem he didn't want to share with Larry or any of the men. Larry thought his father was coming to Cedar Hill to sample the fresh flesh at the saloon that was brought in this time of year, Cedar Hill being one of the few places in the region that offered both female and male prostitutes.

It was no secret to Larry that his father went for the male tail. He did as well, and they kept their bunk room stocked with young cowboys who could please them both and who pleased each other. But they both also liked variety. Bryan especially liked something softer, less weather beaten, than a cowboy.

Bryan's young man, Josh, had left Bryan in Texas. Josh had been the sole property of Bryan to fuck. Even though most of the other men fucked men, Josh had been kept tender and was off limits to the others, including Larry. Cowboys had congregated at the Barnes ranch because the rancher himself fucked men. So, Larry and the boys knew Bryan hadn't been getting any since they'd hit Texas. It was logical then that Bryan would go off the direct route for a couple of days to get his rocks off. That Cedar Hill had male prostitutes on tap was well known in the region. It was also known that they were brought in fresh and tender in this season.

What Bryan's ranch hands didn't know was why Josh had left Bryan and why it was that Bryan really needed to come to Cedar Hill. The reasons for both had the same root. Since sometime on the cattle trail between Utah and Texas, Bryan had stopped being able to get it up. He was in his mid-fifties, and this sometimes happened along about now, but it didn't happen to a previously virile man like Bryan. At least, that's what Bryan thought about it.

Josh had left him because he couldn't keep the young man fucked regularly—and Bryan had let him go because he was afraid that Josh would go to Larry for satisfaction. Bryan couldn't have survived that. Larry was chomping at the bit enough to take over the ranch operations—to take over Bryan's fancy boy as well and for the fancy boy to let others know that the son satisfied him in ways the father no longer could would have emasculated the father.

Bryan came to Cedar Hill because the doctor here, Clyde Sparrow, was an old friend of his—one of the few men in the world Bryan could share his problem with and who he trusted not to gossip Bryan's problem around. Being able to get it up was a significant mark of a man's authority and power in the frontier region. Bryan couldn't afford to let his problem get out—and he couldn't go without having a tender young man in his bed and opening his thighs to Bryan and Bryan's own cock hard enough to do something about it.

As soon as he had checked into the hotel, Bryan took a walk down the wood-plank walkway to the doctor's office and went in without knocking.

Doc. Sparrow wasn't in the waiting room or his examination room. The infirmary rooms were at the back of the building. Bryan found his old friend there, and he did a double take when he got to the door of the room the doctor was in. The doctor wasn't alone. There was a young man half on a hospital bed and half off, at the foot of bed, with his back on the mattress, and his feet, his legs spread, pressing into the floor. The young man had a splint on one of his arms and evidences of bandages here and there. He was wearing a nightshirt, but it was bunched up to below his pits. Doc. Sparrow was crouched below him and had the fingers of one hand up the young man's ass almost to the knuckles.

Bryan assumed it was a medical examination and would have pulled away to go wait for the doctor in the waiting room—except that the young man on the bed was the spitting image of Josh—clean, soft, pliable skin that was tanned, but not weather beaten. A body that was perfectly proportioned and lightly muscled, but not hard worked. A smooth-skinned handsome face. Just what Bryan liked to fuck. Just the type of young man who was bred to be a male whore. The young man moaned and Doc. Sparrow lowered his face and kissed one of the young man's nipples.

This wasn't an examination. Bryan stood there in shock and need and want—even feeling a bit of stirring in his groin, but not much. Not enough. Not by any shot. Bryan was a well-endowed man. His erection had been something to behold—when he'd managed to get it up.

He unbuttoned his jeans and handled himself now when he realized that this wasn't an examination. The doctor had his own cock out of his trousers and shortly after Bryan arrived, he stood, leaned into the pelvis of the young man, who was moaning a low moan as, hands gripping the young man's thighs, Sparrow entered his ass with his cock and started a slow pump.

Doc. Sparrow looked over to the door and nodded his acknowledgment of Bryan's presence while he moved his hips forward and back. There was nothing shocking here for Bryan. The two men had been close friends; they'd watched each other perform with men and had shared young men and male prostitutes before.

When Bryan recovered from the shock of seeing someone so similar to his lost lover and became resigned that watching the doctor fuck the young man wasn't going to help harden his own cock no matter what he did with it with his hand, Bryan sighed, withdrew from the doorway, and went to the doctor's examination room to wait for him.

"Who is that?" Bryan asked when the doctor joined him.

"One of the new young whores for the saloon," Sparrow said. "He was working off part of his bill for me fixing him up." There was no embarrassment to be had for the doctor being caught fucking one of the saloon prostitutes.

"He looked like he's been banged up pretty good," Bryan said. His mind was already spinning. A saloon whore. One so much like Josh. If he only could get over this malady of his, there were possibilities with this young whore. If he did it for money, he'd have no expectations beyond getting the money.

"That's because he's been banged rough. Just arrived. Everyone wants to give him a ride, some a lot rougher than others. The young man was pretty soft and fresh when he got here a couple of weeks ago. He's still too soft for the job in a mining town like this. He's going to have to toughen up fast, or he's going to be dead. I don't want to predict which. He's still got a sweet channel, though, I can say that for him. He has a sweet disposition too; he doesn't fight it or get nasty about being poked. Glad I got to him before he was used up. There's more of his bill to work off. So, now, Bryan, it's good to see you. What's the occasion of this visit?"