Chapter 4
Shoeless, chests bare, the two youths wore only their partially buttoned jeans as they continued their jeep journey up Route 14. The vehicle had covered a good five miles before Dusty broke the silence.
"Still thinking about papa back in town?" His left toe nervously brushed back and forth against the clutch pedal as he spoke.
Tim ended his lengthy, bored stare at the passing landscape and slowly turned towards the grinning youth behind the wheel. This Dusty Shawn had a magnetic, likeable personality, no getting around that; but there was something withheld, something secretive about him that taxed Tim's curiosity. He considered his new friend's query for several seconds.
"Yeah. First time I've been out on my own," he finally replied.
Dusty withdrew one hand from the wheel and let it fall on Tim's leg, giving his kneecap a gentle squeeze.
Tim returned the older youth's enigmatic smile.
"Any regrets?" Dusty asked.
Difficult as it was, Tim tried to maintain his smile. "I'm not sure. I mean... Well, just thinking about it, the old man's going to be sore as hell if and when I ever do return."
Dusty shook his head slowly, grunted, then abruptly spit out the driver's side of the jeep. "From the way I see it, he's not the only one who'll be sore if you deliver your butt back there. Want to tell me about those welts on your rump?"
"No big thing."
"You enjoy getting the shit kicked out of you, don't you?"
"What the fuck makes you think that?" Reddening, Tim looked away and frantically searched the monotonous horizon, but found nothing of interest, nothing important enough to conveniently change the subject. "How far to the next town?" he asked unnecessarily. A mileage sign appeared at the roadside just ahead of the jeep.
Dusty Shawn pressed his point. "I can always spot the types. Been around for a while and spent a few weekends in San Fran and L.A. Then there's New Orleans and that friggin' Mardi Gras. I may be a ranch boy, but I learn fast. Real fast." He paused, looking over and taking in the teenager beside him from top to bottom. "You've got the makings of needing a good, hard fuck. The harder the better, right?"
Tim flushed and lowered his eyes. Deep down he was getting to like Dusty's intent manner. His cock, was, in fact, stirring again with excitement. There was something frightening, adventurous, exciting about a complete stranger like Dusty Shawn -- especially a stranger as young, wild, and sexy-looking as he was. He had appeared from out of nowhere, mysterious in his manner, intent of purpose. Tim liked this unknown quality. Ever since puberty he had never really understood his emotions, but what was probably worse, he found no inspiration to try. The bizarre, the unusual turned him on, totally! Even now, just minutes after orgasm, he was getting horny again and felt a gnawing urge to get right out there in the desert and go for it. Rolling around in the choking dust, shucking off their din-covered jeans, he would let Dusty do what he wanted, like socking his big cock into his butt and fucking up a Goddamn storm right out in the middle of the sagebrush, under the hot desert sun and intense blue sky. He rubbed his crotch and felt his prick pulse and start to stiffen. Jesus!
Dusty Shawn looked over at his traveling companion and caught the wanton look in his young, expressive eyes. Then he noticed the bulge in the teenager's crotch. Exhaling in a quick, nervous gasp, the young rancher wiped the perspiration from his brow, set his bare foot on the brake, and gradually slowed the jeep. His own cock was surging in his jeans.
"Christ!" he said. "You're a horny little bastard. Fucking hot-blooded as I am."
The vehicle came to a halt off to one side of the gavel shoulder. The highway was deserted in both directions.
"Whew!" said Tim finally. "Sure is hot out here."
"Yeah. Get you buns out of the jeep and let's take a walk."
Tim looked around at the barren, flat desert country with its lack of ground cover. Not even a sagebrush or tumbleweed. "Walk to where?"
"Come on, chicken-shit, move it."
The two youths hastened off across the hot ground, their bare feet planted ever so briefly every step of the way on the coarse soil. When they were less than two hundred feet from the road, Dusty stopped, gasped Tim by the waistband of his jeans and spun him in his tracks. The surprised teenager stared back at the ranch youth with frightened but expectant eyes.
"Here?" Tim asked, his voice quavering. "I dunno."
"Good a place as any. Some asshole wants to watch, he'll get an eyeful regardless how far out we hike. Besides, farther off the highway we wander the bigger the population of ground critters."
Tim looked anxiously around him.
"Rattlers and scorpions," Dusty added, but before there was time for the threats to register with his impressionable friend, he was already at work on the youth's jeans.
Tim, startled back to reality and their reason for being out here in the first place, began to unfasten the fly to his pants himself Dusty roughly cuffed his hand away. There was something tough, hard, and insistent about the older youth's manner -- a new aggressiveness Tim had not seen before. Harshly, almost brutally, Dusty tore the faded, tight Levi's down from Tim's waist, stripping them all the way to the teenager's ankles. He didn't bother to take them off, instead turning his attention to his own jeans. These he quickly peeled all the way off and tossed aside; then he stood there, defiant, with both feet planted a good two feet apart and sporting a massive hard-on aimed straight up at the desert sun.
Tim, a short distance away, started to step out of his jeans. Dusty, without a word of warning, suddenly was on top of him, anchoring him to the ground, holding him tight with his strong arms and muscular shoulders.
"No!" the ranch youth snapped. "The Goddamn pants throttle your ankles and keep you nice and still. Just like binding a sheep. A stud doesn't get kicked that way."
"What are you going to do?" Tim asked innocently. Too innocently, he figured, biting his lip and feeling foolish for having asked the question. "I mean, I was wondering..."
"Stow it!" Dusty grinned, not the easy, sexy grin he had shown before, but an insidious smile that conveyed undisguised self-interest and deceit. "I think you need a little lesson, pretty boy," he added. "I'm going to show you what a really good fuck is all about." His tone was cold and flat, for the first time menacing.
Tim's initial intrigue was giving way to apprehension. Half-afraid now, he edged back slightly from Dusty's bear like grip.
"What's the matter? Chicken-shit little bastard!"
"Nobody's chicken, but just go easy, understand?"
The young rancher laughed coarsely. "No fucking fun that way."
"What makes you so sure I enjoy getting corn-holed?"
Dusty laughed again. His loud guffaws changed to a low, belittling snicker that burned Tim to the core.
Tim's brain was fighting back, repelled by Dusty's new manner, but still his cock was erect and his balls ached for action of some kind. The firm, well-tanned body caressing him, the hard, stiff prick pressing between his legs, the odor of sweat, and the sex-syrup already oozing from the end of his own cock had all fired his senses, consuming totally any sensibility he had left.
Dusty Shawn pushed harder against Tim's smaller frame with his strong hips. Two sets of balls slapped against each other repeatedly, fiercely. Neither youth made the slightest effort to kiss. Neither body yearned for bliss or affection; the name of the game was brutal, selfish sex in the strongest animal meaning of the word. Dusty drove his hot tongue into Tim's ear, salivating freely and gnawing at the inner folds, licking with total abandon, at the same time whispering coarse, dirty phrases.
"You hot Mother-fuck! I'm going to have that juicy hot shit-hole of yours all to myself. You need my big cock bad, don't you? Go ahead, say it! It's going all the way up, understand? The whole fucking stick. Then your hungry guts are gonna suck and soak up every bit of my sticky, sweet cum and maybe a little piss to boot. You think you can handle that? Baby, you think your old man was rough? Just wait, shit-face, until I finish!"
Abruptly, Dusty stood back and glowered at the youngster before him with eyes hot as coals. His curly hair was matted to his wet forehead and his hairy chest glistened with sweat.
"Damn. Sweet damn, I've been looking forward to balling a prize like you! All right, baby. Bend over and grab your fucking ankles. Now, Goddammit! What the hell are you waiting for?"
The desert highway, until now, had been void of traffic. A tanker truck passed, slowed slightly, them proceeded up the road. Tim looked nervously after it, scanned the highway in both directions, then obediently, almost dutifully, bent over and grabbed his ankles. His firm, round, youthful buttocks glistened like ripe honeydews in the midday sun.
For several seconds Dusty Shawn gazed admiringly at the beautiful, well-proportioned buttocks enticingly thrust up in his face. When at last his hungry eyes had glutted themselves on the visual feast before him, he sighed softly and went to work. Carefully, he spread the ass-cheeks apart and laid a handful of slippery spit in their moist, sweaty cavity, massaging it back and forth over the tiny, sensitive hairs surrounding the squeezed-shut bung-hole. Then he worked up another mouthful of saliva, bent over, and spat the entire load directly into the eyelike sphincter glaring back at him. The asshole puckered as Tim trembled all over.
Dusty's prick was ready, expectant. Not letting a drop of the slippery lubricant ooze away, he immediately had his enormous meat into position, its big head probing, pushing at Tim's little shitter. The angry red cock-head, almost the size of a billiard ball and just as hard, rammed again and again at the slippery asshole until all at once the stubborn but tender muscles relaxed and the massive cock plunged inside the boy's butt with a hollow, sucking sound.
"Ohhh," moaned Tim. He continued to whimper, ever so softly, then brought his hands up to his knees, trying to reposition his ass for a less painful fuck. He knew from prior experience there was no such thing as a comfortable screw while bending over or standing up -- the human torso just wasn't built that way! Especially not to accommodate huge boomerang-shaped pricks the likes of his new acquaintance, Dusty Shawn.
"Hell, let's do it flat out on the ground, okay?" asked Tim pleadingly. His eyes were still riveted to the empty highway. "Less conspicuous that way."
The older youth's only response was a low, guttural chuckle. Shoving his hips all the way up against Tim's ass-cheeks until they hit with a dull thud, his long cock rammed into the boy's asshole as far as it would reach inside his lower gut. Tim grimaced with pain, his every muscle taut as a piano wire.
"NO!" Tim wailed at the top of his voice. "JESUS! NO, MAN! PULL THE FUCKER BACK! NOW!" He wanted to lean forward, to step away, but the Levi's around his ankles prevented him from moving.
Dusty, oblivious to his quarry's pleas, only ground his fingers deeper into Tim's shoulders, holding the youth firmly, rigidly in place. Then he wiggled his hips and felt his hot, pulsating prick tingle with pleasure as it began to explore inside the teenager, forcing its way in every direction, probing the innermost, velvet-smooth recesses of Tim's succulent, deep asshole.
"Why the hell lay down, baby?"
Tim frowned and bit his lip even harder. Before Dusty had called him Stud. Now he was tagging him baby! His father had used the term often and he patently disliked it.
"You hear me, Tim?" Dusty's voice bore a patronizing tone. "More fun standing up, screwing up a storm just like this. Shit! Wait'll a carful of chicks go by -- or little old ladies yet. They'll pop their Goddamn eye sockets out!" Then, as if to punctuate his remarks, he slammed his hips forcefully against Tim's rump. His cock rammed home. "Besides, I get a lot more out of you this way, baby. A lot more! You feel it?" Wham! Again the jackhammer hips struck home.
"Easy! Easy! Please," Tim begged. "Not so hard." The youth's voice dropped off into a low whimper. The sounds were not unlike a punished puppy.
The pleading from the teenager only served to stimulate the muscular, determined, older youth. Dusty's eyes appeared gazed in the fury of their concentration. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he grabbed Tim by the waist and started to fuck in earnest -- short, abrupt thrusts at first, then long, deliberate strokes that rammed into the smaller youth's asshole with the force of a pile-driver. With each thrust Dusty pulled Tim's hips back towards his waist at the same time, and each time they slammed together his cock penetrated deeper and deeper. The angry impact of their fucking bodies repeatedly rattled Tim's teeth. Small tears formed in the teenager's eyes and rolled down his cheeks.
"Please, please!" the youth begged.
"Beg me, you beautiful little sonofabitch, beg me!" Dusty fucked faster and faster, ramming his cock home with all his strength.
"Stop! You're killing me!"
Two cars sped by on the highway, horns sounding, the occupants staring out in disbelief.
Dusty Shawn did not look up, but continued his frenzied, wild screwing. In and out, harder and harder he fucked, his body trembling all over with each driving, penetrating thrust of his cock. The pleasure was making him delirious, his breath coming in short gasps. Harder and harder he slammed his heavy prick up Tim's wiggling ass. The youth was trying to pull away from him, desperately trying to take less of the angry relentless cock, but Dusty wouldn't relent.
"Wait!" cried Tim. "Lemme rest a minute!"
"Fuck yourself!" Dusty gasped. "I want all of you now, you beautiful little piss-slave. Beg me to stop some more! Go ahead, just try!"
Tim grimaced. The agony was unbearable. Gathering every ounce of his strength, he jerked violently away from Dusty's grip on his waist. The older youth's cock slipped out as Tim fell to the ground.
"I told you to stop!" the teenager shouted.
The young rancher, stunned and unfulfilled, stood still for several seconds, his chest heaving, his eyes fired with anger.
"Bastard! You little bastard!" he said repeatedly.
Suddenly, he reached forward, grabbed Tim by his long locks of hair, and brusquely pulled him to his feet. Struggling, the younger boy cursed furiously.
"Goddamn you! Let go of me, mother-fucker! You no-good..."
Wordlessly, Dusty Shawn slapped the boy across one side of his face, then the other. Tim's cheeks instantly reddened from the blows, and he fell silent. Then he started to sob.
The young rancher, ignoring the tears, slapped him harder than before. "Now grab those ankles and stay put. Nobody, but nobody, gives Dusty Shawn half a fuck. No way. No matter how groovy they are! You understand, cry-baby?" Already his big prick had penetrated and was sliding relentlessly, vengefully, up inside Tim's asshole.
Tears streaming down his chin, his heart thumping in his ears, Tim's misery could not have been more complete. His only relief, his only hope, lay in the probability that his tormentor was not far away from popping his nuts. There was no way that his body could endure much more of this torture.
Dusty clasped Tim's hips even more firmly than before and started fucking with renewed fury. He rammed his big, curved meat in and out relentlessly, his hips striking the teenager's rump with such force that it reddened all over.
Despite the terrible agony Dusty's big prick was causing him, or perhaps because of it -- Tim couldn't be sure -- the urgency of his own juices, his own vitality, was bubbling up again and he couldn't ignore it. Was he totally conditioned, sexually in need of being used and abused? Sweet, dear juice was oozing from his cock as behind him Dusty continued his furious fuck.
Tim took one hand off his ankles and began to stroke his meat; it not only felt good, but it was the only way to endure the pain.
"Ohhh, Christ, kid!" Dusty moaned as he repeatedly licked his lips. "Ahhhh! Oh, damn, your hot asshole -- I'm going to come, Tim! Jesus Christ!"
His cock plunged in as far as it would go, almost lifting the teenager off the ground. Then his body jerked violently as a thick stream of cum squirted from his agonized meat. From head to toe he twitched and tingled with pleasure as the jizz surged again and again through his long shaft, out into the deep recesses of his companion's hot, cavernous asshole.
Tim, for the first time, was able to unwind and savor the excitement. The slippery cum was lubricating Dusty's big prick, soothing the stinging pain in his shitter.
"Ohhh," groaned the older youth repeatedly as he savored the flood of pleasure. "God damn, what a good fuck!"
Tim raised his body; curiously, despite his sore asshole, he continued to push back against his tormentor. He felt the hairy, sweaty chest on his back and savored its warmth. This was one fuck he would remember for a long time.
"God, Dusty," he lamented, "I thought you'd kill me. Hell, at least your cum feels good. Shoot some more into me!"
Pursing and sucking with his asshole, he wiggled his rump farther into Dusty's crotch, swallowing up as much as he could of the still-jizzing cock.
Pumping his own meat as fast as he could, Tim felt the electricity of his climax build quickly within him. Just as Dusty's last wad of sperm shot into his asshole, he let go with his own orgasm. He shuddered with fulfillment and pleasure as the sticky white jizz shot in long, pulsating streams across the ground. When it was all over, he exhaled wearily and glanced back at his companion.
"Goddammit, Dusty. You really know how to pretend to be a sadist!"
The older youth looked back at him.
Tim went on, "You're too bitchin' wild for me, I guess." He gathered up his crumpled jeans and pulled them up to his waist. "I've got a long way to go before I catch up with you."
The young rancher, a little groggy after all the fury he had expended on Tim's asshole, ambled over to his own pants, slid into them, and tucked his soft cock away. Sighing audibly, he slowly buttoned his fly and looked over to the teenager with an expression of mixed guilt and embarrassment.
"Never did get around to pissing on you," he grumbled, then started to chuckle.
"You're putting me on," retorted Tim.
Dusty winked. "Try me."
"I already have."
"You learn fast," the older youth said, his tone a little menacing, despite the remorse on his face. "But maybe not fast enough."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
The young rancher smiled broadly, eyeing the teenager before him. His lips curled slightly; his brain, from all outward appearances, was doing some rapid calculating. His eyes darted briefly off to the distant horizon, then returned to Tim.
"You've got some things to learn, Stud. When you do, you won't have to run away from home, no matter how tough the old man."
Off in the distance, where the highway disappeared into nothingness, a red flashing light was approaching at a rapid pace. Tim saw it first and pointed.
"Shit," Dusty grumbled. "Maybe somebody's alerted Smokey cop. Let's split out of here. Hustle, man."
Both youths made a dash for the jeep and jumped inside. Seconds later they were roaring down Route 14, still northbound, doing 55 miles an hour, the picture of innocence.