Page 39 of Working the Lode

Bowmaker finally breathed. He was heading into the hallway to check on Zelnora when there was a report of a pistol out in the street. There were a few womanly shrieks, then a brief silence, and then the auctioneer started back in.

“Will anybody say twenty-five? Will anybody advance on thirty dollars?”

The Mexican funeral procession resumed its march, headed by a dismal brass band, and Joaquin returned to the hotel. He pressed Bowmaker back into the empty cell, even shoving him back against the flimsy wall as he holstered his pistol.

He poked Bowmaker in the chest. “You see? You see how I get things done?”

“By shooting a man?”

Valenzuela closed his eyes in frustration. “That man owed me a hundred dollars. And I only shot him in the leg. And someone said they heard him boasting as he swaggered about, talking about an enormous nugget recently found on the Stanislaus.”

It was becoming difficult to concentrate with the proximity of Joaquin. He must have been on his way to some soiree or other, as under his serape he wore a velvet jacket trimmed with gold braid, and his clean, glossy hair smelled of cigar smoke. His beautifully straight, aristocratic nose was just inches from Bowmaker’s. Yet the idea Joaquin had crossed him kept Bowmaker’s palms flat against the wall, while his traitorous cock swelled and elongated against his thigh. “There may have been other enormous nuggets, Joaquin. Or you could have shot that man to deflect blame from yourself.”

Joaquin shoved his face so close to Bowmaker’s he sprayed spittle. “How can you accuse me of such a thing? Why would I betray you? You are helping my daughter regain life—why would I deny you a good living?” He gazed lewdly with heavily-lidded eyes at Bowmaker’s mouth. “Why would I betray you when I admire you so much?”

And all at once, as though unable to restrain himself, Valenzuela kissed him. Full sucking kisses with his soft, pliant lips, hungry and defiant as Joaquin licked Bowmaker’s tongue with his own. They snorted against each other’s faces, a sudden wave of arousal sweeping down Bowmaker’s chest, stiffening his nipples, making him weak in the knees. Gripping a handful of Valenzuela’s luxurious hair in his fist, Bowmaker snapped his neck back, exposing his vulnerable throat to him, and laid an openmouthed slurp on his Adam’s apple.

“Why do you admire me?” Bowmaker demanded.

As if to distract Bowmaker, Valenzuela enfolded his prick in his hand and squeezed almost lovingly. A low purring sound rumbled in the pit of his throat when Bowmaker licked the velvety brown skin. “You are strong…muy masculino…”

“Those aren’t good enough reasons. Tu también eres muy varonil. You are feared by everyone in California and Mexico.”

Fairly giggling like a youth, with his thumb Joaquin tickled the underside of Bowmaker’s burgeoning erection. “I am just a mysterious black devil who arrives, then disappears. I do not want…my life to be meaningless, all for nothing. I can only gain…estabilidad…stability through loving another.”

Loving? Ho, boy, who said anything about loving? Bowmaker kissed the bandit’s chin, throat, and scrabbled the shirt collar aside to suck on his smooth trapezius. Loving was between men and women. Although he supposed one could love one’s brother. Or trapping compañero…

Valenzuela clasped Bowmaker’s muscular thigh between his and humped him like a sly fox. “I would crawl on hands and knees to show my admiration for you. You must not see me as a murdering, robbing fiend.”

Bowmaker flicked the tip of his tongue against Joaquin’s lower lip. “But you are a murdering robbing fiend.” The murdering fiend’s cock was so stiff against his thigh Bowmaker feared Joaquin would waste his seed inside his calzoneras.

Joaquin panted into his mouth. “One who esteems you, and would never betray you.”

Bowmaker slid his palms down Joaquin’s back and gripped the globes of his ass to him, briefly and brutally, causing the Spaniard to grunt. “Then prove it,” Bowmaker growled, nipping the man’s lower lip. “First time I saw you, you whipped my poor swollen prick and balls till I nearly came in your face.”

Valenzuela grinned with conspiracy. “You wish to slap my penis?”

“No,” said Bowmaker, although that was an enticing idea. “I wish you to display your admiration, how much you value and take pleasure in me.”

Valenzuela groaned as Bowmaker rolled his bulging erection against his hip. “I would like to display…I do not wish to rule you…Only to share mutual pleasure.”

“Good.” And Bowmaker shoved the desperado to his knees.

Tugging his buckskin shirt over his head and flinging it to the floorboards, Bowmaker assisted Valenzuela in smoothly unbuttoning his broadfall. His erect meat nearly brained the bandit alongside his skull, and Valenzuela eagerly gripped it in his hand, with his thumb anointing the bursting head with the drops of semen that had trickled out. Bowmaker gasped and dug his fingers into Valenzuela’s shoulders.

“I wish to eat you,” it sounded as though Joaquin said. “I wish to take you inside me, make you a part of me.”

“Good god,” Bowmaker groaned when the desperado swallowed the length of his estimable prick down his throat. This wicked fellow could devour a man’s penis wholesale! His alluring, snakelike tongue squiggled up and down the underside as he suctioned voraciously, the grunting in the pit of his throat vibrating sensually through Bowmaker’s distended prick and into his belly.

Of course the Spaniard knew how to suck a penis—he knew how he liked his own to be sucked, that was logical. He nearly gushed forth into the hot mouth, so embarrassingly swift! The loud slurps, the stifling late summer waves of air against his taut nipples, the heat of the dusky fingers digging into his white ass—and the knowledge that it was a man who eagerly gorged himself on his long thick meat! And a heartless, malicious outlaw at that!—everything conspired to bring him to a swift climax.

When Joaquin detached his mouth briefly in order to lubricate a finger with spittle, Bowmaker nearly clobbered him in frustrated and pent-up rage. But when he inhaled Bowmaker’s purplish, angry cock to the hilt while sliding that finger up his ass and tickling the backside of his prick, Bowmaker let go.

Surge after surge of jism down that hot, thirsty throat. Joaquin moaned in appreciation, gulping hungrily. The bandit ate every mouthful that Bowmaker spurted, his balls twitching and jumping as he quaked and thrust into the scorching mouth. Joaquin sucked ecstatically, like a hungry calf at the teat.

Joaquin milked his prick deliciously while still tickling the inner wall of his ass with his ringed finger. Bowmaker’s thighs quivered and he gave way, sliding down the feeble wall and detaching Joaquin’s greedy mouth with a powerful slurp.

They sat on their asses dovetailed, Joaquin’s legs slung over Bowmaker’s hips, leaning foreheads against each other, panting.