Chicken Breakers: Chapter Four52 minutes of an awesome read

“How much farther do we have to go?” Gene asked as he propped his sore body against a large boulder.

“About another five miles or so.” Jacque replied. “Thank God the rain stopped. We can make better time now.”

“Could I ask you a question?” Gene asked softly. “Go ahead.”

“What are you going to do to me when you don’t like me any more?”

“You let us worry about that. Don’t worry about dying. John and I talked it over last night while you were sleeping and we aren’t going to do that.”

“That’s a relief. You know you could turn yourselves in and I wouldn’t press charges.”

“Yeah, kid. It would help, but right now we have at least two cops on our ass and probably a mess more ahead of us. The place we’re going is pretty well known and I don’t think we’ll make it past. If we do you will be set free there and you will have no problem getting picked up by the Mounties.”

“Jacque’s right. We should be there by noon and you will be safe. Okay?”

“I guess so, but I am kinda getting to like you two, and I don’t want anything to happen to you that will get you hurt.” Gene stated.

“Gene, you walk in front of us for a while. I want to talk to John for a while.” Jacque ordered as he dropped back to John’s side.

Gene did as he was told and continued to make his way up the steep grade.

The mushy ground gave way under his feet as he walked and the idea that they were planning something against him left his thoughts as he reached the top of the hill. He saw the view through an opening in the pines. It was a big lake, bigger than the one they were fishing on. “Is that where we are going?”

“Jacque and John are going to leave you there.” Jacque said as he came over the crest. “Do you see that little landing down there. We have a friend who will pick us up and fly us farther North. We will leave you with enough food for a couple of days so you will be okay.”

John lead the way off the knoll, down the narrow path that lead to the lake.

Gene heard the load noise of a single engine airplane circling above.

“That’s our ticket to freedom!” John yelled.

The small craft buzzed the area and turned for the open water. It was a nice plane, Gene thought as he watched it inch lower to the water. The small plane was equipped with pontoons, and the lad knew that it was piloted by one of the famous bush pilots so well known in Canada.

Lower it got, until the floats made their first contact with the water, The troughs of crystal liquid raced from beneath them as the plane slowed for its approach to the wooden dock as John walked to the end and guided it in for the last few feet.

Gene could see two men inside getting ready to greet his two “friends” as John tied the rope to a sturdy piling.

The first man climbed from the side door and instantly threw out his hand to John and then to Jacque. He was apparently a damned good friend of both of them. The other man got out and wasn’t certain what to do until the first introduced him to the John and Jacque.

The pilot was an older man, somewhat heavier than Gene thought a bush pilot should be. The rest of the description fit the title. He was jolly and knowledgeable about the Canadian wilderness. He was explaining his latest travels to John as the other man tailed behind them.

“Gene,” LaStrop beckoned. “This is Marty, he’s the pilot I was telling you about, and this is Dean. He’s new at the game of flying.”

Gene eyeballed them both over and decided that he liked Dean a lot better than he did Marty. He didn’t really know why unless it was the fact that Dean looked more honest than the older man.

“What is it you have here, Jacque? A little chicken?” Marty chortled.

“Yeah. What do you think of him?”

“I think he would look a lot better with his clothes off!”

“Do we have time?” Jacque asked.

“I don’t run a scheduled airline. We have as much time as you want. Dean, How would you like to have a little chicken for lunch?”

“It’s okay with me. When do we eat him?” The reply was right as far as Gene was concerned, but it lacked enthusiasm. Something was wrong with the co-pilot.

“Gene, take off your clothes!” Jacque ordered. He tried to sound mean, but the true meaning was quite obvious to the boy. Jacque wanted to have him one more time before he left.

Very nonchalantly, he began undressing, he did so with a little more flair than he had before hoping that the show would impress the two pilots and his two abductors into taking him along.

“What do you think of him so far?” John asked the others when Gene had peeled out of his shirt.

“So far, so good. The kid has been working out. Just wait until he has the rest off, then I’ll let you know how I really feel,” Martin stated. He was getting nervous as Gene worked on his belt. It was something Gene was getting good at. He could make any man nervous as he toyed with his belt and then the fly.

As he was stripping, Gene kept his eye on the co-pilot for anything that would clue him in to what it was all about. He didn’t know if he would recognize any sign, but he still wanted to watch.

The man reminded him of someone he knew or had seen, but he couldn’t place his face. By the time he was completely nude he was also completely confused as he let John ease him to the ground. He couldn’t be concerned with what they did to him as long as he couldn’t remember who the guy looked like.

Dean watched as the spectacle unfolded before his eyes and attempted to take it as if he really didn’t care if he got a little from the kid or didn’t. He watched as Gene leaned back in John’s arms until it appeared that he couldn’t take any more of it. His mind was made up as he knelt next to the two and yanked the pullover over his head. He had a great body for someone as small as he was. He wasn’t any taller than about five ten, if that, but his rigid gut and powerful chest made it very apparent that he wasn’t to be bullied. It was also obvious that he was digging on the teenager beside him, since the bulge in his pants had done nothing but grow from the first time he had laid eyes on him.

“You want him first, Dean?” John asked. “It’s okay if you do, Martin and us have some things to talk over before we leave, anyway. You can do anything you want with him, except kill him.” John took his arm from around the boy’s neck and got to his feet. He smiled at them and then walked to the bobbing plane to join the others.

“Did he mean that about doing anything I wanted to you?” Dean asked the bewildered lad.

“Yep, I guess so. Those two have been doing whatever they wanted to do for the last couple of days, so I guess that means you can, too.”

Gene’s answer sounded a little on the dejected side as he watched Dean fumbling with his fly. “Haven’t I seen you before?” He had no idea why he asked the man the question, but figured that it was time to find something out about the man that was about to fuck him or whatever was on his mind.

“I don’t think so. You are an American, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but what in the hell does that have to do with it?” Gene replied.

“A lot if you watch yourself. From what I understand you met my brother earlier this week, and right now I think he should be just on the other side of those hills.” That was a big confession to make to a kid he wasn’t sure wouldn’t tell Jacque or John.

“Fuck! That’s where I know you…”

“Keep it quiet. I don’t want this to get out of hand quite yet. I’ll have to do something with you while I explain what’s going on.”

“Don’t give me that shit. I can tell you want a little ass and if you are whom I think you are, you can have whatever part or all of me you want.”

“Thanks, kid. You are pretty good lookin’, and I would hate to see something like you leave before we try out the plan.”

Dean didn’t have another free minute to himself from then on as Gene attacked his rescuer. Their mouths clashed as the lad drew up to the man’s face. Before long, Gene’s tongue was exploring Dean’s moist orifice. He was so close to Dean that he couldn’t see what was about to spring from the khaki trousers the man had just pushed over his hips.

With his eyes closed, Gene slowly and deliberately ran his hand over the man’s hairless chest, over the washboarded stomach and right to the base of the elongated shaft. Weaving his fingers through the curly strands, Gene allowed his hand to jump from the matted forest to the thick sausage. His eyes popped open as he realized just how fucking big the cock was. He couldn’t touch his thumb with his fingers as he tried to girth the monster. Almost as fast as he had grabbed the thing he released the grip only to return more cautiously. He ran his hand from the bottom to the top, startled once again by the amount of time it took to travel the entire length. Breaking the lip lock with the man, his eyes glanced down quickly and then returned to the face. “You want to put that up my butt!” Gene exclaimed.

“Sure, what’s the matter? I thought the others had been fucking you all along.”

“Shit, they’ve been fuckin’ me, but Jesus Christ—neither of them had a rod like that, not even Foch!” Gene said excitedly.

“Try not to think about it. To make this look good I’m going to have to rape you, so make it look good!”

“Make it look good, my ass! Motherfucker, the only way you’re going to get that thing in my ass is to rape me!”

“Okay!” Dean commented softly. A second later he had backhanded Gene across the face and had rolled him over on his belly. “This is the only way we can do it. Try for all your worth to hold on. I’ll tell you what to do as soon as you get used to it.”

“Shit, I guess if you have to do it—you have to do it!” Gene closed his eyes again and waited for the huge head to bulldoze its way into his rear. This was one time he was going to squeeze his eyelids shut. He couldn’t remember when he had seen a fucking cock that big and he had seen a lot of them. He was a little worried as he felt the enormous helmet probing for his ass. At least the guy had greased up before he straddled him. Then it came—the first real pressure and then the accompanying searing pain as the cap pierced his anal knot…”YEEOOOWWW!!” he screamed. “YOU’RE KILLING ME! STOP!”

“No way, kid. I got it in you and that’s where it stays until I come. Understand?”

“Please take it out!” Gene pleaded as tears welled from his eyes.

“Shut up. You can take it!” Dean wasn’t about to remove his aching rod now.

Gene thought his ass was burning up as the massive invader drilled deeper and deeper. He could feel every inch explode into flames as he dug his fingers into the soft dirt above his head. His mind was reeling with pain as he felt something begin trickling from his ass and then over his balls. He knew Dean had ripped him wide open and he was bleeding.

Apparently Dean wasn’t really that concerned about him after all if he wasn’t going to stop and there was nothing he could do to stop him. He thought about calling Jacque or John, but they had taken a different attitude as they came down the hill. It was as if they didn’t like him any more and he knew what that meant. If this guy was going to fuck him to death and they didn’t care, he knew that it was all over for his young life.

Dean had finally reached the bottom and was lying flat on Gene’s back. To Gene it felt as if the head of the guy’s cock was in the middle of his stomach. Thank God the bastard wasn’t moving. “Gene, take a deep breath and let it out slowly,” Dean whispered.

Gene did exactly as he was told and was surprised at how much the pain had decreased. He did it again, and the pain subsided even more.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Gene whimpered.

“Now listen closely. I’m sorry I had to do it this way, but the others might get suspicious if I took you out in the woods for a walk.

“Just fuck me and get it over with.” Gene’s fright was changing to anger as he became used to the pain.

“I want you to listen to what I have to say. Will you do that?”

“So start talking!”

Dean began explaining what Gene had to do as he started a slow pistoning motion with his ass. The tremendous prick moved out of the taut chamber and then hovered just at the exit until it dipped back into the depths. Dean didn’t speed up at all for several minutes. He was waiting for Gene to relax even more than he was before increasing the tempo. He sensed a slight twitch from the stretched sphincter and considered that the an appropriate indication. The cadence picked up. All the time he was whispering into the boy’s ear.

Gene acknowledged the instructions timidly as he found out who Dean was and how he had gotten with the pilot. As things became more clear the pain in his ass seemed to decrease with equal proportions. After a while, he was even responding to the immense tool by lifting his hips to meet it. He felt his own cock hardening against the soft soil beneath him as the throbbing crown assaulted his inflamed prostate repeatedly. This was actually becoming fun. “Speed up a little more!”

His request was carried out as Dean continued the explanation. Dean was having trouble now with the main train of thought as his mind demanded more attention be placed on his penis. His strokes were getting more defined as his knees began digging small holes into the soft sandy soil on the beach.

At the bottom of each lunge, his egg-sized nuts would slap the soft skin below Gene’s churning gonies, sending pleasant shock waves of delight through his body. They triggered an acceleration of his ass even more. The huge dock-walloper sliced through Gene’s ass with little resistance now that the kid was relaxed and rolling with the blows. The fact was that he was beginning to feel the pressure building in himself. He knew he was going to let go of a load right on the beach but was going to do it when he felt like it, at least he hoped he would. Gene felt the hot breath on his neck as the long strokes changed to short, choppy jerks. “Don’t come yet,” Gene whispered.

That’s all it took for Dean to stop dead in the channel. “I thought you wanted to get it over with fast!”

“Can’t a guy change his mind?”

Dean leaned forward and kissed Gene’s ear slowly. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Gene replied. “Do you think you can start again? I’m sorta enjoying the thing in me now.”

The large piston began gaining momentum once again as soon as Gene’s request was audible. Working slowly at first, Dean could feel the tight little sphincter jerk as he extracted his pole from the anal chamber. Right at the top of each stroke he would pause long enough to make certain that he had struck the peanut-sized gland just inside the antechamber. Then driving back down until he had buried it to the hilt.

“AAAHHH, UMMM, OH GOOOOD—MORE, YEAHHH!”

Gene’s screams had changed to soft sexy moans as he began taking full benefit from the attack on his prostate. The dick in his ass was driving him wild now and he wasn’t about to forget it for a damn long time. His rod was letting him know it was enjoying itself also. Even buried in the dirt like it was, his meat was swelling and throbbing like it would have done on satin sheets. The force from Dean’s lunging body drove the lad along the soft soil, irritating in a most pleasant way as he moved. Gene knew it wasn’t going to be long before he popped a load. “FUCK ME, Dean! Fuck me with everything you’ve got!”

Dean unleashed a final fury of action as he heard Gene’s supplications. He couldn’t believe how tight the anal ring was getting as Gene closed the trap tighter and tighter around his sword. It made it all the better for the last strokes that his balls would let his take before unleashing the vehement barrage of man sap into the lad. As the first signs bombarded his brain, Dean’s eyes snapped shut voluntarily rejecting any external distractions that might detract from the almost celestial show that was proceeding through his mind. From the very center of his soul, the violent earth shattering tingles radiated. The tempo built as his regulated breathing gave way to uncontrolled gasps of air that would feed the fires of passion until he had finished the task. Each stroke his nuts would strike the soft flesh below Gene’s ass like a wrecking ball sending even more spine tingling signals through his super sensitive body urging him to hump even faster. With every bump, the nuts would draw up closer, seemingly to close the gap and the distance between them and the enormous rod that would deliver the white volley of starch. Now the battle began between him and him and the building pressure within his gonies. He was winning for a while, but knew it wasn’t going to be long before all hell broke loose. As every muscle in his body joined the fight, he muttered softly into Gene’s ear. “Get ready little one, this is going to be it. HERE IT CCOOMMEES!”

He hadn’t finished the sentence when his hips thrust forward with the power of a bull. The huge flaring crown skidded along Gene’s inflamed colon walls spewing the blazing load before it. Again and again the hot load pulsated through the expanded tube as if drawn from a bottomless pit that seemed never to dry up.

Gene could feel the lava-like fluid washing into him on the last strokes just before his nuts were triggered into releasing their jizzy cargo. His charge didn’t have the pleasure of emptying into another shit chute but tore small depressions in the soft loamy soil beneath him. Then as it mingled with the damp dirt it would form an exclusive mud on the kids belly, almost trying to return to its source.

The two had become one as they ejected the hot sap from their gonies at the same time. Dean collapsed as he let the diminishing trickle of sperm work its way through his cock. Even then as the boys smells wafted through the air next to Gene’s head assaulted his no nostrils he had a strong desire to repeat the performance. He couldn’t do it then, but he knew there would be another time later.

Several minutes went by before either of them made a move. Then Dean slowly arched his hips one last time and withdrew his once randy tool from the ever tight fluted orifice. Propping himself up to the kneeling position he helped Gene to his knees also. Without a bit of warning Gene wrapped his arms around the co-pilot’s neck and commenced to hug him for all he was worth.

Dean waited a while before breaking it off. “Gene did you remember what I told you while we did it?” He asked.

“Yeah, I sure do. Just give me the signal and I’ll do it.”

Dean smiled warmly at Gene as he got to his feet and began dressing. He saw the other three climbing from the plane to the wooden landing in their direction. Jacque seemed to be smiling, but also tense and bothered about something.

“Gene, come over to me for a minute.” Jacque ordered. His tone was that of a worried man.

“What do you want, Jacque?”

“Sit down beside me for a while.” Jacque said and waited until the lad was at his side. “When the pilot flew over the hills around here, he saw two mounties on the other side of the hill we came over and another two at the top of it about two miles away. That means you won’t have to wait long to be rescued. The trails are pretty bad where they are and it will probably take them an hour—hour and a half to get here. You shouldn’t have any trouble waiting for them.”

Gene nodded his head while he pulled his Levi’s around his hips. He glanced in the direction of the plane and saw Martin with a pistol strapped to his hip and a big ax in his hand walking their way. “What is he going to do with the ax, Jacque?”

Jacque had a strange look move across his face as he heard the question. “Nothing—I mean he’s going to cut some fire wood for you in case it gets cold while you’re waiting.”

Gene watched as Martin approached and was met by John about midway to them. After a short conversation, Martin handed John the ax and walked back to the plane. Gene watched John walking toward the two of them with an expression that looked like he had lost his last friend.

Jacque looked up at the ax and then at John, before getting to his knees. “Gene, would you suck me off before we leave?”

The boy smiled at the man. “Sure I will, and I suppose John wants to fuck me.”

“That’s right!” John answered. “Why don’t you skinny out of your pants again and we can do it for old time’s sake.”

“Okay” Gene agreed as he worked his Levi’s back down his legs.

“Let’s do it dog style. Gene you get on your hands and knees and suck off Jacque while I screw you from the back.”

“Hey that sounds fun, John!” Gene said. He dropped forward on his hands as Jacque fumbled with his pants. He wanted to push them past his knees but didn’t seem like he was in a hurry. Finally he got them down and guided Gene’s head onto his erect dick. “Close your eyes and think of all the times we did this together in the last couple of days. Think what it’s going to be like when you are with your friends again. Think about the good times you have had in your life.” Jacque said as he held his hands on the side of Gene’s face.

Gene couldn’t figure out why Jacque was saying all those things but was content to do as he was told. As he inched closer to the swollen joint, He could heard Jacque make as sound that resembled that of a man crying. He tried to raise his head to see what was wrong, but Jacque held him fast.

“Don’t look up kid. Just get on with the sucking. John is going to wait until you are really moving out before he starts,” LaStrop said as he looked up at John.

Gene knew something was wrong by the tone of Jacque’s voice. He was worried about something, something big. He felt something was terribly wrong as he took the semi-hard shaft in his mouth and began pumping on it. His imagination ran rampant as Jacque held his head tightly. He even thought he felt the sharp, cold edge of the logger’s axe touch his side, but only for a second. He was getting scared again, not knowing what was going on. Whatever was happening to him, he was going to be the last one to know as he resigned himself to the powerful hands Jacque held him with.

John still couldn’t believe what he was about to do as he stood over Gene. He could see Jacque with the enormous tears running down his cheeks, his arms reaching down holding the boy’s head. The most fantastic thing about what was happening, was that he had volunteered to do it. Marty had insisted! If they didn’t do it, they wouldn’t have a ride North.

Minutes before, when he approached Jacque and Gene with the double edged axe, he looked like the Jolly Green Giant with a grudge as he moved into position above the lad’s rear. He was straddling those beautiful muscular calves and looking down at the smooth flesh that was stretched over Gene’s back. He looked down again at Jacque as he eased Gene into position for the last blow job before they would leave. Jacque looked back and nodded, then closed his eyes and began to weep, comforting the boy at the same time.

Now was the time for John to carry out the instructions the pilot had given. With the axe in his hands he shuffled his feet for better footing and then lowered the shiny metal blade to Gene’s exposed side. He didn’t want to alarm Gene, but made the mistake of letting the blade touch the tanned skin right where the suntan line was. John lifted the axe handle in his hands, sliding his right hands toward the metal head at the same time. Standing poised for the last swift motion, John froze for a second before continuing. Why couldn’t he use his pistol or knife? Why did Marty want him to use such a crude weapon like an axe to kill the boy? His thoughts were a jumble as he looked down at the imaginary dotted line that ran across Gene’s back. Why? Could he do it? He slowly raised the instrument above his head. He glanced at Jacque once again to see if there had been a lost minute reprieve for Gene.

Jacque was still holding on to the lad’s head, looser now and running his fingers through his long soft, shiny hair. His lips were moving as if in prayer as he looked up at him for the first time since they had begun the weird ritual. John sensed the message that he was receiving and began carrying it out.

Gene was getting more frightened by the second as he worked on Jacques’ now fully erect tool. He wanted it to be the best he had given his captor—something to remember his trek through the woods. He rocked back and forth into the steely hard meat letting his tongue explore every ridge and depression on the joint. He would follow one of the heavy veins all the way down until he could take no more, then follow another back up until he reached the flaring corona. Lashing at the back side of the ridged head he would make two passes around it and then attack the oozing slit at the apex of the helmet only to repeat the whole thing all over again. Back and forth until he heard the crying transformed to sighs.

All of a sudden he felt the robust sausage increase and drive for the back of his mouth. Sucking the best he could, he waited the split second until the first scalding starch would bath his throat. He massaged Jacque’s boiling gonies faster as he waited until the mighty crown surged and hot steaming lavalike sperm exploded from his joint. Swallowing for all he was worth, Gene could barely keep up with the flow. The salty fluid meandered over his tonsils and finally down his gulping trachea. He had just begun sucking the last tasty morsels out when he heard a shot from a small weapon. Almost instantly he heard what sounded like wood and steel striking the ground several feet from his side. He broke loose and immediately looked around. There was Dean—a smoking revolver in his hand aimed at the three of them.

“Come on, kid! There’s been a change in plans!” Dean yelled. Everyone else, put your hands behind your head and get on the ground, face down. Marty, you get over and join those two!”

Gene scrambled to his feet. He ran as fast as he could while trying to pull his pants up.

Dean was as cool as any man would have been arresting three felons. “Gene! Get over to the plane and get in. First untie it and wait for me. Marty, get off your ass and push the plane away from the dock.”

Gene did as he was told and ran for the piling that the rope was tied around. Quickly untying it, he made his way to the cockpit and climbed in.

Dean carefully walked to the dock, his gum aimed at Marty the entire way until he was next to the open hatch. “When I get in—you push!”

“Fuck you, Mountie!” Marty yelled.

Dean cocked his revolver and aimed right for the man’s face. “Push!” Quickly he got into the plane and behind the instrument panel.

Marty gave a healthy shove sending the small craft away from the wooden structure.

Dean reached for the panel before him, pulled out the choke and hit the starter button.

The plane coughed and sputtered as it drifted in the breeze, but it didn’t start. Again, he hit the starter, still nothing.

Gene watched as Marty and the others ran along the shore line. He could see John, his hand red from where the bullet must have hit him. In front of him was Jacque and leading the way was Marty. Some twenty yards from the landing they stopped and rummaged through the reeds next to the lake. Gene could see Marty getting into something. Then he could see the man emerging from the plants in a canoe. He was paddling like a mad man.

Finally the engine sputtered and caught. It sounded as if it were missing on at least one cylinder as Dean revved the motor. Slowly the craft began moving forward as the propellor became invisible. Bobbing in the water as it increased in speed, Gene watched as Marty frantically paddled the canoe closer and closer.

“That’s too fuckin’ close!” Dean yelled as he reached over and pushed the lid off his seat.

Gene fell to the hard floor just as a bullet pummeled into the side window, spraying the cabin with tiny fragments of glass. This time, Martin was in front of them. He was standing in the middle of the corner. His rifle aimed right at the craft, belching angry round after round point blank at the wind shield.

Dean pulled the throttle to the limit, hoping to clear the man and canoe before he did any real damage. He watched the air speed indicator until he had enough speed and then pulled the wheel back. Nothing happened as they approached the canoe—nothing at all! He tried again, Marty was fifty feet away from them now and the plane was still at full throttle.

“He shot out the control cables! Stay where you are, don’t get up!” Dean was trying everything he knew to turn the craft as it bore down on the stationary target.

Marty didn’t stop firing once until the weapon was empty. Madly he tried to find more ammunition in his pockets as a last hope. Closer the spinning propellor blades came. He managed to get one bullet into the magazine before he looked up.

There was nothing Dean could do. It was Marty or them and he would rather have it be Marty. The plane was only ten feet from the canoe when he saw Marty look up after loading the one cartridge. He missed at the attempt to push in the throttle and there would be no time for a second try. Dean closed his eyes just before the plane rammed. The last thing he would remember was the horrified expression that covered Marty’s face as he looked up and saw the blades coming at him. His reactions were too slow to even think about jumping off the boat, he was petrified where he stood as the plane sped closer.

The next thing Dean heard was the sound of the engine dropping off quickly like someone had stuck a log in the way. He wasn’t even aware of the blood curdling scream just before the impact. He felt the pontoons slicing across the top of the canoe. The engines rpm’s built back up and he opened his eyes to a red hued windshield. There were small pieces of flesh and bone intermingled with the running liquid as he turned on the windshield wipers. The front cowling was covered with the oozing fluid as he finally made out the taxi way before him again. He pushed the throttle in slowly and turned the plane around for the return to the landing. As he turned and straightened out again the plane seemed drawn toward the spot that was now a crimson pool in the middle of the lake. The canoe was still floating even though it was full of water. The two airtight compartments at the bow and stern had seen to that. The aluminum gunwals amidships were badly battered where the pontoons had slid across them. To the side of the demolished craft was the remains of Marty, the pants he was wearing hadn’t been touched from the belt down. His shoes were still on his feet, but there was nothing above the belt except an oozing stump. Thank God it was beginning to sink.

As they drew near the dock, Jacque and John turned and ran, grabbing their packs and whatever else was possible to carry on such short notice.

“They won’t go far. We’ll have them in custody before dark. The place is surrounded.”

“I hope they get away.” Gene muttered.

“What did you say?” Dean asked.

“Nothing, just saying a prayer for Marty.”

“You can save your breath. The things I’ve seen him do the last three months I’ve been with him would be enough to drop him straight to hell before he hit the water back there. Don’t worry about guys like him.”

The pontoon nudged the dock as the crippled plane came to a halt. Gene was the first out, followed by Dean. Dean’s pistol was still warm and ready to go as he set foot on the damp soil just off the landing. He immediately started after the two crooks Gene was hoping would get free this time. “You stay here, kid,” he yelled as he blended with the tree line.

Gene did just that. As he sat down he had the first chance he had had since he arrived at the clearing to look at the sky and catch his breath. What a sky it was, a beautiful light blue, dotted with white fleecy clouds wafting past. The rain clouds of the morning had completely disappeared and he had forgotten about them and the cold that accompanied the storm. The lake was shining bright again and as his eyes spanned the water, he could see no sign of either the canoe of the remains that were by it. Everything was as it was when they arrived.

Another question racked his brain as he sat by the quiet lake. Where were the other Mounties Marty said he had seen as they flew over? Why weren’t they there helping Dean?

Steve and Pete had seen the show, almost all of it from where they were, but with the aid of binoculars. They had heard Dean’s shot as he put a bullet into John’s hand when the axe was hovering over the lad’s midsection. They were just at the top of the hill two miles away as they saw the two climb into the plane and were aborted by Marty’s scheme to stop them. Steve got a little sick when he saw the spinning propellors do the trick on Marty as he stood in the canoe firing at them.

Pete was even shocked with the events that had taken place on the landing. It appeared to be like something from the movies, so incredible that it couldn’t happen in real life. The last few days seemed that way to him. “I think we’d better get our asses down there and give Dean a hand!” Pete stated. He sounded a little concerned as he got to his feet.

“How do you know the guy’s name, Pete?” Steve asked. He couldn’t even make out the face at that distance, only sizes. He did make out Gene as he and the other man Pete was referring to were running for the plane.

“He’s my brother! Dean English. He’s been working undercover for the last month or so on a smuggling case. By the looks of things he’s been doing pretty good at it, too. The guy he hit was the owner of the plane and head of the gang. Let’s get down there and help out.”

Both men worked their way down the steep embankment to the next flat rill before finding another path that appeared to be leading in the right direction. They weaved their way through the tall log pole pines as Pete set a pace that was faster than any they had set during the first few days of the tracking. It was almost a run as they worked their way through small patches of underbrush and around bigger patches of brambles.

As they followed the small trail, Pete began communicating with the other two Mounties who had seen the whole thing also. A plan of attack was worked out when they were halfway down the slopes that led to the water.

The small path crossed the bigger trail which had been traveled earlier that day. Pete saw the tracks of two men and a set belonging to a smaller person. Rocks had been overturned after the rain making it a very easy trail to follow. Having less than a mile to go before coming into the clearing, Pete and Steve unslung their rifles and inspected them for the assault. Steve pulled out the magazine that hadn’t left the rifle since he put it in while on the boat. He removed the lens caps from the telescopic sight to make certain water hadn’t condensed on the glass. Everything was ready as far as he was concerned.

Pete slowed the pace as they began the last mile down the easy sloping path. They moved more quietly now, also. Aware of every tree and bush as they came across them. Caution was at a premium as they held their rifles at the ready.

Across the hill at the same level, Riley and O’Hara were making the same careful progress as they worked for the clearing, also. These two men had been on expeditions like this before and had seen what carelessness could lead to. They had both lost several friends due to haste. They were ready for anything.

Gene sat on the log, content with the fact that Jacque and John had apparently made their escape good. He didn’t hear a single shot from the direction they had headed. He was happy about that at least. His thoughts were shaken as he heard the brush behind him shake. Turning quickly, he thought it might be a rescue party. Without seeing who it was he shouted, “Pete, is that you?”

“No, little one. It is not Pete.”

The voice was familiar, he had heard it so many times the last several days, he had no trouble knowing it was Jacque. “What are you doing here? The Mounties are almost here and you’ll be caught. Why did you come back?”

“Hush, little one. We have come back for you. You don’t think we would leave our favorite boy all alone in the hands of the Mounties, do you?” Jacque stated. His voice had a nervous hack to it even though he was trying to sound brave. He and John walked into the clearing closer to Gene. “Would you like to come with us to another nice place?”

Gene looked at the man not knowing if he was serious or not. “You guys better get out of here, please! I don’t want you to get caught. Please go!” Gene implored.

“If that’s the way he wants it, then we would like to say good-bye and good luck to you!” John stated.

“Good-bye and good luck to you, too, now please go before the Mounties get here.”

The two men were standing right at Gene’s side now. They were making no attempt to leave the peaceful clearing.

“We will leave very shortly, little one.” John said. He, too, had a nervous quiver in his voice.

Gene noticed that they were holding their weapons almost at the ready as if they were going to fight it out with the Mounties when they arrived.

Whatever the reason why they were staying, Gene would find out very shortly. From the bush at the side of the trail came the menacing voice of authority, “Stand right where you are and drop your weapons. I place you under arrest.” The voice was coming from a man Gene had seen only twice before.

Pete and Steve showed themselves as they walked into the clearing their rifles held rigidly at their hips, pointing directly at Jacque and John.

Faster than Gene could think, he was lifted from the log and was held tightly around the chest by Jacque’s powerful arms. He felt the cold steel of a pistol barrel jabbing into the base of his skull.

“If you do not want to see the boy’s brains blown out through the front of his head, you will kindly drop your rifles!” John said as he cocked the hammer of his revolver.

“You realize the minute you pull the trigger you’re both dead!” Pete yelled.

“Of course, my friend, but you will have one dead chicken to explain when you get back to camp. Now kindly drop your guns!” Jacque ordered.

Pete and Steve were about to lower their rifles to the ground when they saw John look over to Jacque and smile. It was a strange sort of grin, as if they had planned the whole scene. Jacque smiled back and before any of them knew what was happening, John threw Gene to the ground with one strong shove and fired one shot at the two still armed men.

A volley of rapid fire ripped through the air as Steve’s rifle barked at the opening John had left. Pete was right beside him cutting loose with his rifle.

Thirty feet away the barrage of small bore weapons was being felt as the 7.62 millimeter bullets tore through plaid woolen shirts and then into the soft yielding flesh. Upon impact the bodies literally jumped back from the ground and landed flat several feet away. Three bullets had found their mark in each of them, and they knew it. Side by side the two men lay, their life’s blood oozing from the mangled flesh they once called their stomachs.

Gene got to his feet and rushed to their side. He was joined by Pete and Steve who kicked the revolvers out of reach.

“Why did you do it?” Gene whimpered. “You are both crazy, you knew you couldn’t get away with it.”

John raised his head, a small trickle of blood was flowing from his mouth, “We planned this hours ago, little one. We just got tired of running and didn’t want to spend the rest of our lives in jail.”

“Our guns weren’t even loaded. We ran out of ammo shooting at you and the plane,” Jacque continued. “This was the best way out!”

Hearing what he just had, Steve ran over to the two revolvers and opened the cylinders. “One spent cartridge and that’s it!” he said as he returned to the two dying men’s side.

“You two were crazy,” Pete commented as he opened Jacque’s shirt “You caught it bad this time, Jacque. I don’t think there is anything I can do for you.”

“That is the way I wanted it…” Jacque said. His face turned very peaceful as if the pain wasn’t there any more. “Good-bye, little one. Thank…”

Pete reached down to the man’s throat and after fingering the side shook his head. “He’s dead.”

“Browning’s had it, too,” Steve stated. “Gene, are you okay?”

Gene looked up, his vision blurred by tears. “Yeah.”

“Come over here with me.” Steve put his arms around the boy and lifted him to his feet. Slowly he walked him to the same stump Gene was told to sit on earlier. They sat down facing the water this time as Steve cuddled the kid in his arms. “It will be all right as soon as we get back to the island with the others. You know they picked the way they wanted to go, and I hope that I have the courage to do the same when it comes my time. They were both very brave men.”

“Gene turned to Steve, his eyes drying a little, “I know they were. They weren’t all as bad as people thought they were.”

An hour later there were two very neat graves side by side overlooking the water. Each had a small cross at its head and a small bouquet of wild flowers beneath them. The four Mounties, Steve, and Gene stood at the edge of the water listening for the sound of an outboard motor which had been summoned by radio. Gene was the first to hear its deep-throated growl as it approached from the far end of the lake. His mood started to change the minute he and the others boarded the craft and headed back to the island. At full speed the boat sliced through the water in a direct course for a small channel and into another lake. Then a small change in direction and almost before any of them knew it, their island loomed before them. Gene could see the two aluminum fishing boats reflecting the sun at the bobbing in the water just off the island. Several more minutes and the shore line was lined with the others in the party. The first one Gene saw was Clint who was waving.

They climbed from the fiberglass craft and were met by a rushing mob. Clint picked up Gene with both arms and hugged him almost to the point of turning blue.

As the boys greeted each other, the captain of the craft told Pete that his two boats had been brought back to the island he could stay for the night. This done, Pete pushed the big launch back into the water and saluted as it sped off for the familiar end of the lake that had seen more traffic in the last week than it ever had in one whole month. In fact, the whole lake had seen more traffic than it had in a long time.

Greg and Mick had had a fire going for lunch and stoked it up again as the Mounties, Steve and Gene gathered around the makeshift eating area. The rest of the fish which had been caught in the morning were fried up and passed around as the guns and packs were finally laid to rest. Gene sat next to Clint holding his hand while they watched the fish sizzling away on the griddle. His spirits were really climbing now as he looked at each of the friends he had been reunited with. “What did you do while I was away, Clint?” Gene asked softly.

“I prayed a lot and jacked off more!” Clint quipped. “Not really. Most of the time I stayed on the island hoping I would be the first to see you come back. Did they hurt you any?”

“Naw. Just between you and me—it was kind of fun once we got to know each other. They treated me real good, and when that Foch got mad and wanted to fuck me—shit, they shot him.”

“Goddamn! I think the fish is ready. You can tell us the rest later. Okay?”

“Fine.”

They ate good for the first time since they left the island casually. They didn’t have to worry about ambushes, being caught, or any of the trailing business. They took about an hour to leisurely dine on the fabulous fish, and after that the older men sat back and lit up the first enjoyable cigarette they had had.

“I don’t know which I liked better, the fish or this butt,” Pete commented.

“Me, neither. They were both damned good. You know, all of a sudden, I’m bushed. I really am!” Steve stated as he yawned.

“I hope you aren’t too tired to keep the promise you made the first day out.” Pete asked.

“Oh, shit, that’s right. I did make some sort of a promise about something, didn’t I!” Steve replied as if he’d forgotten all about it. “Let me talk to the guys and see if they might like to help me with it. I think they will. Look at Mick and Greg. They’re already making time with Riley and O’Hara. Let me just talk to them first. Hey, you guys. Come over here a second. I’d like to talk with you.”

Pete walked down to the water’s edge to give the campers a little privacy and was soon joined by the other Mounties.

“What’s going on?” Riley asked.

“Nothing to worry about. Steve’s just taking care of things officially. I doubt if we get much sleep tonight, but we will be getting everything else we might want.”

Steve waited until the rest of the boys had gathered around him before he spoke, “The first day we left, I promised Pete if we got the little one back safely, I’d let Pete do anything he wanted. I also mentioned that the others might do the same, but I didn’t make any promises with him about the rest of you. You can either join in or not. It’s all up to you.”

“Shit, Steve, Greg and me were already to show those Mounties how to fuck. Now that you make it an official request, I guess we’ll have to really show them a trick or two!” Mick replied.

“That’s great. You two can take care of Riley and O’Hara, and I’ll take care of Pete. Clint, I suppose you and Gene would like to have a little time by yourselves, wouldn’t you?”

“If we could, You know it’s been three days since we saw each other, and we do have a lot to talk about,” Clint said holding Gene close to his side. He had a bit of a starstruck expression on his face as he talked.

“I think you two can be excused if you want to make it in one of the tents,” Steve acknowledged.

“Thanks, but I think we will try to catch up right here in the open if it’s okay.”

“Anything you want to do!

Gene and Clint walked back to the fire and found the softest rock they could find before sitting on it. The rest followed and were soon joined by the Mounties.

“It’s okay with everyone, Pete!” Steve exclaimed as the Mountie sat next to him.

“Fantastic!”

“Greg, would you mind getting one sleeping bag from each tent? I think we’ll need them shortly,” Steve stated.

Almost before he had finished the request, Greg was on his feet and moving in the direction of the tents. Grabbing all but one bag, he returned to the area. Once there he threw a bag to each couple and then rejoined Riley and the others. The way things were shaping up, he and Mick, along with the Mounties, were sooner or later going to be involved in a four way orgy.

None of them seemed to be in a rush as the sun dropped lower in the west. Casual groping and making out seemed to be the order of the day when everyone settled down on the sleeping bags. Greg had thought ahead when he got them and also appropriated four tubes of K-Y jelly. He knew something like that would come in handy before the night was over and decided to get the whole thing out of the way all at once. What more could he do to make eight people happy?

Clint and Gene were the only ones who weren’t wasting much time. By the time Greg had returned with the bags, Clint had already peeled Gene out of his shirt and was working on his pants. Those old pants had been torn by bramble bushes, soaked by the rain, and almost ripped off more than once during his three days in the boon docks. Gene was content to have the gentle loving hands tend to his undressing and lay out on the sleeping bag, his eyes closed, feeling the hands swiftly go about their appointed duty. Only once did his thoughts turn to the two dead men and the things they had done. The thoughts were quickly erased as he felt Clint’s fingers roam over his chest. Those soothing fingers he had longed for. At the first touch, his tumid rod began showing signs of life and within seconds was bobbing rigidly above his navel. Every muscle in his body seemed tired but relaxed as he perceived the digits working their way closer to his eager prick.

Clint was taking his time re-exploring the lad’s magnificent body with his hands and eyes. He hadn’t forgotten how he had looked, but just wanted to make certain that things hadn’t changed. There were no scars nor many abrasions as far as that went. He just had to get the feel of the boy back in his mind. Slowly he roamed over every muscle, saving the throbbing dong for last. His eyes bathed in the beauty of the erect cock and the silken sac that dangled below. Quickly he glanced around the camp to see if any of the other teams had done anything exciting.

Steve and Pete were joyously romping over the entire sleeping bag they were on as hand would meet cock or nuts or anything that might be handy. He watched as Steve finally fell on his back to be immediately gobbled up by Pete. He wasn’t wasting any time blowing the hard boner that Steve had exposed.

Clint turned his head for a look at the others who were having just as much fun as anyone. He couldn’t quite figure out the positions they had managed to get into, but they tangled up on both sleeping bags. Riley was with Mick and O’Hara was with Greg, and everyone was with each other. They were trying to figure out one of the wildest four-ways they could conjure up. Clint thought they had succeeded.

The four nude bodies were oscillating all over the two bags until they had finally achieved the right combination of moves to get Greg flat on his back with his legs high in the air above his head. Riley was guiding his cock into the boys elevated ass. He worked slowly at first until he was all the way in before stopping. Then he let Greg rest his legs on his shoulders. The next part was about to unfold as Mick backed over Greg’s face on all fours. He stopped the minute he felt a hand guiding his succulent meat into a waiting mouth. He no sooner had settled down for a good blow job when he felt a moist tongue dipping into his spreading ass. Riley was not only going to screw Greg, but was willing to rim Mick’s ass at the same time. That left O’Hara, until he scooted into position in front of Mick, leaving his writhing joint exposed to the hungry lips that hovered above it for a split second, then dove like a German Stuka straight for the towering target. This had connected them together—now the only thing they had to worry about was getting into action without becoming disconnected. Ever so slowly they began, like a locomotive building and building, until they knew for certain that things were going to work out okay. Riley was liberally driving in and out of Greg’s tight, slick asshole, at the same time licking and digging his hard tongue into Mick’s creamy, white fluted sphincter. Mick was in ecstasy as he felt the tongue in his rear and the hot, moist lips around his hard-on. He had no time to reflect on the situation as he, too, was occupied with a rod which had invaded his mouth.

For Mick it was almost more than he could stand as he began pumping his hips into the anxious mouth Greg was offering, feeling his laving tongue at the same time. The net result was that he began pistoning over O’Hara’s erect sausage like it was going out of style. Furiously sucking the gargantuan erection, working his tongue frantically around the swollen crown and then following the heavy duct to the base. All involved were more than content to swing with the wind as the hot session evolved to a slow climax.

“FUCK, MAN, I’M GONNA-OH-CUMMMMMM!!”

Mick was the first to sense the impending eruption as he bore down into Greg’s mouth.

Greg knew he wasn’t far behind. No one was touching his joint, but the abuse his prostate was enjoying made up for that. He loved the drilling he was getting from the Mountie and reciprocated with increase suction on his friend’s prick.

An uncontrolled chain reaction was taking place as one would get hornier than hell and increase the tempo causing another to superheat and increase his speed. The reaction continued until a point was reached which couldn’t be stopped by any of them. There were going to be no slow downs or halts involved in this run. Nothing but full speed ahead, fucking, sucking, cumming!

Mick lost control totally as his head flashed with the myriad exhibition of psychedelic explosions as his nervous system collapsed into oblivion. His stomach tightened as he felt his surging balls violently sucked closer to the base of his joint and then blast the hot pearly cream through the stretching ducts and out into the air, finally coming to rest on his own belly.

Almost at the same time he sensed the invader in his rear expand immediately deliver the first scorching blast of scalding sperm that he hoped would mingle with more before the night was out.

On and on it went until Mick and O’Hara had joined the others in a panicky frenzy of emotions as their balls let go with everything that could possibly be stored within them.

Not one of the four combatants had watched Clint and Gene as they began their own ritual of love. Theirs was truly more than a sensual outburst of physical feelings as they snuggled together on top of the sleeping bag several feet from the others.

“Clint, now that we’re alone, could I ask you something?” Gene asked softly. His hand buried in Clint’s Levi’s massaging the stiff erection which would soon be in his ass.

“Sure, go ahead,” came an equally soft reply.

“Do you remember what we talked about doing when we got back home?”

Clint nodded.

“Do you think we could still do it?”

“We’ll do anything you want, any time you want. You know that,” Clint stated.

“Good. Then let’s go to bed and stay up all night?”

“I just hope you aren’t too sore to do it.”

The two boys picked up their sleeping bag and slowly walked to the tent, hand in hand.

THE END