Gene sat on the old fallen tree trunk like he was told to while they took their break. They had seen the Mounties coming and had just enough time to load up and get out before they were seen themselves. He thought he was having a dream or more of a nightmare. Foch had shot the old man right in front of him and had made him watch as the old man slumped to the floor. His arm was better after Browning had cleaned it up with his shirt. Gene had waited until they were almost to the cabin before trying to make his escape. The three men were watching for signs of the old trapper when he began to run up the hill faster than he knew his legs could carry him. He was right next to a tree when he felt the air whistle next to him and a huge hunting knife embedded itself several inches from his side. Losing his balance and his footing he rolled back down the hill and cut his arm on an old bean can the trapper had thrown out. The wound wasn’t too bad, but it wouldn’t stop bleeding.
Browning was the first to his side and showed the first kind response any of them had exhibited thus far. He tried stopping the blood with his bare hand then made Gene take off his shirt to use as a bandage. When they got to the cabin, they found the trapper and tied him up. Browning then washed out Gene’s wound and bandaged it better with something he’d found in the cabin. John gave the kid some food, then they went to bed for the night.
It was one night that Gene would never forget. John Browning wouldn’t let him out of his sight, and shortly after the others had fallen asleep began rubbing Gene’s chest and stomach. He didn’t feel like having sex with the man, but he felt he should pay him back for what he did to his arm. He rolled over on his back and let Browning continue. He was surprised at how gentle the man was being as he felt his hand roaming over his body. He worked his way down to the top snap of Gene’s Levi’s and began working it and the other buttons loose. Once that was taken care of his hand went deftly and accurately right for Gene’s semi-rigid joint. He didn’t know why, but he was happy the man was being kind to him. It wasn’t going to be rape this time as the man began masturbating him with one hand guiding Gene’s hand in on his own crotch at the same time. Gene let his hand be pushed for the huge lump he could see by the light of the moon shining through the window. He began massaging it the instant John let go of him and started unbuttoning the fly holding the monster back.
This was the same man who had raped him just hours before, and yet now he was compassionate, almost loving. Gene was confused by Browning’s behavior. He was working on the man’s cock and John was working on his as if they had been friends for years.
Gene remembered how they laid there on the sleeping bag, how he was willfully stroking his achingly horny cock until he felt the first sticky pre-seminal fluid on the tip. He had the urge to suck it, but was afraid of what he might do once he knew what Gene felt.
All of a sudden, John bent down and began licking his navel and then the fuzzy base of his rod. All at once he sensed his shaft being engulfed by John’s mouth. The criminal’s head was bobbing furiously as he groped for Gene’s ass with his finger. Once he found it, the digit worked its way past the tight ring and was exploring the ante-chamber. Gene remembered the exact second the man found his prostate. He jumped uncontrollably and sighed.
“Quiet, kid. Don’t wake the others. I won’t hurt you!” John whispered purposefully.
“I believe you!” Gene answered. He didn’t know why he said it, but he felt better after he did. He knew he should hate the man, but he felt good at his side—almost as good as he did by Clint’s. His mind flashed back when he saw his friend collapse on the ground as LaStrop recoiled from the blow of his rifle. Was he still alive?
That was the only question that bothered him. He knew the Mounties would come after him, but he didn’t know how long it would take.
They lay on the sleeping bag for quite some time before Gene felt the familiar tingle race through his body. Not knowing what he was doing, he put both hands on John’s head and began helping the man move faster. His sighs became louder as he approached the final seconds before he got rid of the load he had stored. The mouth was bobbing up and down, now at a fast rate and the finger was darting madly in and out of his ass. He was going crazy! His mind had stripped the roof from the cabin it seemed as the stars flashed through his dazzled brain and he couldn’t think of anything except Clint.
“Ahhh, ohhh, suck me! SSSssssuckKK?!”
He flashed back to reality when John tapped him on the shoulder and beckoned him onward. “Shit, I didn’t even get a chance to finish my dream,” he scolded. “It was about us last night.”
“Shut up about that and you won’t get hurt. If the others find out about it, they’ll have your ass and mine.” John whispered back.
“Why the change of heart all the sudden, John. I thought you guys brought me out here to fuck and suck and stuff like that.”
“We did, but I’m trying to talk them into letting you go up here a ways, and if they find out that and I have something…”
“Hey, we don’t have anything going. I was just being nice to you for what you did yesterday!” Gene said defensively.
John smiled at the kid and then replied, “Okay, okay, have it your way. Still, don’t press your luck too much. He could have just as easily sent that knife into your back yesterday instead of the tree. Did you see how he laughed when he killed the trapper? He kills just for kicks. He always has liked to do it, ever since I met him in Quebec three years ago. Foch still gives me the willies when we go into a job. I don’t see how he kills like he does. I haven’t killed a single person yet, only beat them up.”
“Why don’t you get the drop on them and take them back to the island. So what if you only get a couple of years in the pen? They will get the gallows. That’s what the Mountie said.”
“What in the hell are you two talking about back there?” Foch asked in a gruff voice.
“I just asked the little bastard how his arm was feeling,” John replied.
“Get the fuckin’ lead out. Those goddamn cops are probably on our ass right now! If that kid can’t keep up, I’ll take special pleasure in doing something about him.” Foch growled.
“I can keep up with you guys any day of the week and twice on any fuckin’ Sunday. Lead on, MacDuff!”
“What’d that little shit say?” Foch snapped.
“Nothing, Foch. Just get your butt up the trail and keep it there. You take the lead for a while. You know where we are going.”
Foch walked past LaStrop and sneered at his last comment and order.
Gene wasn’t certain, but he thought LaStrop was cooling off a little, too. If could get both of them against Foch, then he could get the remaining ones to fight over him and I could split while they were fighting, he thought. What the fuck. They will probably kill me anyway.
The sun was really getting hot now, and walking through the woods was making them all sweat. The shoulder straps began digging into the soft prison flesh of the convicts’ shoulders as they walked up on hill and down the other. Gene was ready for it and calmly strolled along waiting for the time he could make his first move. He ran over the open fields gathering wild flowers and sticking them all over his pack and in his pants—anyplace that might turn on one of the adults. The first one that made a move would be the one he would make a play for. Then the idea struck him. He could see nothing in front of them for several miles but flat meadows, “Why not take off his pants? Quickly he began unfastening his belt and fly and then sat down so he could slip the dirty Levi’s over his boots. That done, he stood up again and began walking beside LaStrop like nothing had happened. His cock and nuts swung from his crotch with every step. He glanced down at the French-Canadian’s pants, Hot fuck! He thought, The guys got a boner! A couple of strides closer, and if he held his hand as they walked, what then?
Gene was building his nerve as he walked over to the leader of the gang. Slowly, he reached up and placed his hand in Jacque’s.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” he asked. The evil from the night before had left.
“I just wanted to be close to someone who didn’t hurt me last night. Gene said softly. He looked up at LaStrop with the sexiest look he could muster and smiled.
“Why in the fuck did you take off your clothes?”
“We always do when we get hot. That is where there is no one around. We like to do it. If someone wants to get sucked or something like that, we all take a break and do it.”
“That sounds kinda fun.” The expression on Jacques face turned even more gentle while he talked. He held Gene’s hand tighter now and began talking about his childhood.
Gene could have cared less about what the sonofabitch did when he was a kid, and he doubted if he ever had been one. Still he had to play the game he had started.
They walked slower until John had passed them up and was ten yards ahead of them. Jacque looked down at the boy at his side and smiled. He saw Gene’s whang begin to grow, and it appeared to him that Gene didn’t care or didn’t know about it. He watched it until it was at full height he could feel his all ready stiff muscle get even harder as they walked. He had to call a halt and do something with the boy, or he’d come in his pants.
“Okay, let’s take ten minutes here,” He yelled.
“What the fuck for? Those goddamn cops are right on our ass, and you want to play circle jerk with some kid? Don’t you know what he’s trying to do?” Foch argued.
“Shut your fuckin’ trap, Foch, or I’ll blow it off!”
“You talk pretty big. If you want to play with the boy’s dong, then I’ll go back and watch the trail!” Foch replied, giving in to the bigger man’s threat.
Jacque sat down, motioning Gene to sit with him. When the boy did, he pulled the pack from his bare shoulders. They were in a wild field of clover—soft and fragrant. Gene could tell the man was beginning to relax a little. He took full advantage of the situation and lay flat on his back once Jacque placed the pack aside. Looking up at the man, he could see that he really did want to do something with him.
Jacque leaned back, propping himself on one elbow so he was facing Gene, and he began fingering the boy’s arm and then his shoulder. Cautiously at first, as if he thought he might hurt him, it wasn’t long before he was on his chest, his hands almost dancing over the flat pecs. “You have a good build for a boy your age, you know!”
“Thank you!” Gene replied with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He flexed his chest quickly as the man’s fingers dashed over the dark medallions and then moved to the washboarded stomach. Gene could tighten it any time, day or night. It was enough to turn on the holiest of men when Gene began putting on a show, and it was working on Jacque.
“Jacque, would you suck me?”
The shock of the question caught him off guard, and he wasn’t certain really how to answer. He was supposed to be tough and get the things he wanted. He was a Man, but as he looked over at the captive, saw his warm eyes and soft face, he melted. His eyes continued to roam over the cute body until they came to a screeching halt at the magnificent hard-on that bobbed in the breeze. That cock was going to be the downfall of him, and he knew it. As far as he was concerned it was the prettiest thing in the world. It was even nicer than the one on the first kid they’d raped, and he had a very nice little joint. There was something different about Gene, though: he was willing and able to bring emotions to a peak. Jacque gazed at the hose and then at the soft sac that hung below, almost to the crack of his ass. Something told him to drop down on them and suck the fuzz right off. It was irresistible; he had to do it.
Gene didn’t have to say a single word as he lay there on the clover looking up at the man. He knew Jacque would suck him off before they got on the trial again. He glanced over at Browning, and inside was pleased at what he saw—Browning was mad, not mad enough to fight yet, but he was damn mad! “I have an idea. Why don’t you suck me off, and Browning can fuck me at the same time.” Gene suggested.
“Whatever you want, kid. Hey, John! Come over here. The boy wants you to fuck him while I suck him. Would you dolt for him?”
John burst out in a big grin and came running, working on his pack and belt at the same time. By the time he was at their side, his gigantic prick was swinging in the air as his pants slid down his heavy thighs. As he sat down on the ground he reached inside the side pouch of his pack and came out with a tube of lubricant. Before any of them knew what was happening, John had coated his whang with the cream and was getting ready to slip it to Gene.
Gene was ready for the man this time as he rolled over on his side facing Jacque. He raised his highest leg so John could get in better and Jacque would be able to play with his nuts at the same time he was sucking him off. Gene felt the huge blunt tip probing his ass, and then finding the fluted opening. He remembered the first time John had fucked him and he knew that this time things would be different. The rod was just inside him now and had stopped. Fuck, the guy does have some cool! Gene thought.
Browning was being cool about it, once he was inside, he stopped and let the kid get used to the size before he began going for the real thing. It wasn’t a long wait, but enough to let Gene know things had changed. As far as the other end was concerned, all he had to do was turn on the charm with his eyes and Jacque was on his way down. The interim between the time he started down and the time Gene felt the firm lip lock around his love muscle was instantaneous. And the time when he first touched the golden cock and began sucking was even shorter yet. He wasted no time in getting to the root of the matter as he lubricated the shaft with his tongue as he slid over the magnificent meat.
Gene was in heaven with the attention given him by the crooks and that’s all that mattered. He could feel the flaring corona rubbing the lining of his colon as it pistoned its way up and down the corridor building pressure in John’s nuts as it did. His own balls weren’t doing too bad either as the suction built to a point where he thought Jacque was going to suck the sperm out of him before he had a chance to come on his own. He really didn’t care how he came—as long as he did!
John was really in the mood for a good fuck and showed it when he began moaning and panting harder than Gene had ever heard him. Jacque was having fun below the line, also as he, too, started cooing as he slid his lips over the smooth skin of his cock. Jacque had also been massaging his balls like nothing he’d ever had before. He was having a ball letting the two men work him over. Faster and faster they went until the pressure was too much. John slowed down for a while as he strained to hold back the flood. Jacque sensed the change in John’s tactics and followed suit. It seemed as if they were both gathering their second wind for the thrilling conclusion that Gene didn’t want to end. He was digging on the attention the two crooks were lavishing on him.
John’s randy kidney prodder seemed anxious to get started again with the festivities and he began, slowly. With more care and ease the staff dipped into the squeezing orifice on its way back up to the top once again. Gene wanted to help them both and sent his hips into action. He met John as he was driving the whang in and as soon as the tool was buried to the hilt, Gene moved his rod forward into the awaiting mouth before him. What more could he want to do but bring both of them happiness at the same time. So what if Jacque didn’t get a nut—fuck, he would get Gene’s. “Do it, Jacque, do it—make me come!” Gene begged. It was getting to the point now that he wasn’t certain if he was acting or not. Both the men were doing their damnedest to be friends with the kid they had forgotten the real reason for kidnapping him in the first place. Gene hadn’t forgotten, though. That was why he was raping them instead of the other way around. If he was good enough, maybe they wouldn’t kill him. Any way he wasn’t going to worry about it for the present. All he wanted to do now was enjoy the fuck he was getting and think about a way to get rid of Foch.
Jacque was taking the staff all the way to the hairy base, letting the flaring crest ease down his throat as the fuzz tickled his nostrils. He was in glory as Gene crammed the hose down his mouth. He could feel the once sagging nuts drew up into the walnut skinned bombs that were getting ready to explode. He kneaded them faster, but still as gentle as before. They were beginning to convulse and the elongated tonsil jabber was expanding like it had never done before while it was in his mouth. Hearing Gene’s breath shorten, Jacque sucked the hose for all he was worth—he wasn’t going to stop on this one. He could feel the boys hands tighten around his head a little as he attempted to look up. Jacque could barely make out the ripples on Gene’s stomach, but they were going taut working their way tighter and tighter as he sucked the love cream out of the lad.
Like a shot in the dark Gene lunged forward as his ponies exploded sending the hot charge on its journey. Repeating the charge of the night before, but with more fury. He was going to drown Jacque with the creamy syrup.
Jacque almost thought the same thing as the sweet load cascaded over his tongue. He wanted to collect the tasty morsels and then swallow it all at once. He knew that Gene was the tastiest thing he had had for a long, long time and he wanted to remember it just as long.
John wasn’t in a much better position for holding back once Gene began fucking his hips either. The minute the boy took over, Browning knew that was all she wrote. Gene was tightening the noose around his rod more and more, until he knew that the joys of childhood were going to make him come. He, too, could feel his nuts being sucked up closer to the base of his shaft, preparing for the right moment to fill the kids anal chamber with the love sap he had replenished during the day. As his head began to spin with the delights of the experience he seemed to lose control over his actions. Not caring how he did it, he let his body do with itself what it must and would to finish the pleasant task of popping his nut in the kid’s ass. Erratically his hips pounded back and fork as the shock waves ravaged his body. He was delirious those last few seconds as he moaned while the pressure built within him. Then when there was nothing more to do but ram forward into the comfortable vestibule and let his rocks spew the fiery sap he let go with a powerful groan and lunged. The productive eggs did their job better than he expected. Volley after volley ripped through the long tube and out to the voluminous cavern that the immense piston had hollowed out. He couldn’t have wished for more pleasure than he was getting then on the clover covered field. He couldn’t remember a longer lasting orgasm or a more pleasant one. He wanted to stay in the lad longer than he did—which was still long enough for his exhausted tool to become soft and spongy. All three participants finally called it a trick and rolled over on their backs as the white fluffy clouds drifted over head.
The clouds weren’t the only thing that was observing the session. Up on the hill they had hiked over before the break was a slightly pissed off Foch. He was watching for the arrival of the Mounties when he turned around and saw the three way. He was tempted to put a bullet in the dirt above their heads as he watched them going through the motions. He watched until they had parted and then went down by them, “When is it my turn for the little bastard?” He asked angrily.
“When I say it’s your fuckin’ turn, that’s when!”
Gene inched closer to Jacque as if for protection and whispered, “Don’t let him take me. I don’t like him.”
“Don’t worry kid. If you don’t want to let him fuck you—he won’t!” Jacque put his arm around Gene’s shoulder and patted him. “You can put out for anybody you want. He won’t make you if you don’t want to let him.”
“I’ll get that kid if it’s the last thing I do!” Foch yelled raising the barrel of the rifle. It was now aimed right at Jacques head. “I say I fuck him right now! Roll over, you little whore!”
Foch was getting madder by the minute as he and Jacque talked about when he was going to fuck the kid. Gene was still obstinate about not letting the man stick his dirty cock in his ass.
“Foch, the lad doesn’t want you to fuck him, and if he doesn’t want you to fuck him—YOU DON’T FUCK HIM! Is that clear?” Jacque spat.
“I get it. You two want him for yourselves, while I go behind a tree and jack off all the time, right?”
“I don’t know, but if the boy says no, then it’s NO!” Jacque could see the veins tightening in Foch’s arm as he located the weapon a little closer to the center of his face.
“I don’t see how you have much of a say in the matter, LaStrop. I might just pull the trigger and have your head before I kill the boy.”
“You think you are going to kill the kid. You have another thing coming, bastard,” John said as he rolled over on his stomach, bringing the shotgun to bear on Foch. He didn’t wait for an answer as his index finger flinched and the resounding echo bounced off the surrounding hills. The twelve gauge shotgun had done its job as tough Foch’s face was obliterated from his head. The second blast caught him in the chest knocking him backwards on the clover.
Gene turned his head away from the sight, burying it in Jacques chest.
“It’s okay,” Jacque said softly. He held the naked boys’ body close. He was getting involved with him more than he actually wished. He couldn’t help himself, though. The soft boyish smells that invaded his nose were driving his mind wild. Cuddling the lad was all he wanted to do. To feel his warm body close to his.
John walked over to the bloody body ten feet away and pulled off the cartridge belt and back pack he was carrying, then picked up the rifle from the clinched fist.
“Let’s get out of here. Every fuckin’ mountie in the world heard those shots. Gene put your pants on and let’s get the fuck on the trail.
“Thanks, John,” Jacque said as he got to his feet. “You know that is the first time you ever said that,” John stated.
“What?”
“Thanks. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say thanks. The kid is putting a little human kindness in you.”
“I think he’s doing the same to you, too. I don’t think you would have shot Foch before today,” Jacque said with a smile.
“Well, at least I shot the right guy,” John said casually as he pushed two more shells into the shotgun.
Gene was buckling his belt as the others picked up their packs.
“Come on kid, you really can be slow. Get your pack on and move out. You are still our hostage and if the cops do catch up with us you are our only way of making certain we get away alive,” Jacque said.
“I’m coming. Why don’t you let me go. I won’t tell what way you went. I promise!” Gene said, sliding his arm through the last shoulder strap.
“I just told you why we can’t. Get a move on. We’ve wasted enough time here and we have a hell of a long way to go before we stop tonight.”
Three hikers left the clover field and the area where they had matted down the fragrant flowers. They also left behind the body that John had blasted.
Two hours later, Pete, Steve and the others came across the field and at first glance at the spot from the top of the hill they were certain that the body would be Gene’s. Steve began running down the hill, followed close behind by Pete. When they reached the spot Steve saw it was too big for his little friend from the back and Pete wanted to know which one of the criminals it was. He rolled him over on his back and at first sight of the dead man’s face thought he would vomit.
“Godddamn!” O’Hara moaned as he approached the scene. “Which one is it?”
“I couldn’t tell you. Which ever one did it to him wasn’t about to miss. Either one of the shots would have killed him instantly,” Pete stated. “Cheek his pockets and see if he had a wallet or something.”
O’Hara kneeled down by Foch’s body and began going through his pants and shirt—what was left of it. The others began looking for anything else around that might give them a clue as to what happened. The clover was still matted down where the three had had their fun and games. They found the two spent shotgun shells and the remains of a tube of cream “Looks like they might have raped the kid. Two of them probably did it and the third felt let out. They killed the third guy when he protested,” Pete said.
“Sounds logical. How far ahead do you think they are?” Steve asked.
“I’m not certain, but by the grass still bent over, I’d say about an hour and a half to two hours.
Riley and O’Hara dug the small shovels from their packs and began excavating the hole for Foch. It didn’t take them long to dig it in the soft soil and once they laid him to rest they joined Pete and Steve at the edge of the matted area.
“Do you two want to rest before we move out?” Pete inquired.
“Hell no! We would rather bury them all together if possible,” Riley commented. “While we were putting this one in the hole I noticed a scar on the back of his neck. According to the wanted poster, it should have been Foch.”
“If that’s the case then I feel a little better. He was really the only one that was wanted for murder. The others are just a couple of bad dudes that can’t make an honest living. He was killed with a shotgun…When they were at the camp Browning was the one who had the thing. I figure he must have done the trick on Foch. Saved the Dominion some money when he squeezed the trigger. You fellas about ready?”
The two sweating mounties nodded and moved into line as Pete began walking in the same trail of bent clover the remaining criminals and their hostage had taken. He was rather certain again where they were heading this time also. His plan was simple—they would follow the trail for a mile or so to make sure they hadn’t changed their minds and then Pete and the others would take a shortcut over a rough old trapper trail that lead over the hills that would separate them by too much territory if they remained on the same trail behind the three. They came to the edge of the field and immediately started climbing steeper, rockier hills. All of a sudden the terrain had changed to a point that instead of making a good three or four miles an hour, they were down to two miles. Pete didn’t seem to be concerned by the slowdown, plugged his way through the stony path.
As the sun began casting the longer shadows, the air cooled off enough to make the hiking even more comfortable than before and Steve could spend a little time looking at the scenery instead of wiping the sweat from his brow all the time. He could see some of the rugged beauty in the place as they covered the first five miles of the trip. Instead of clover covering the ground, there was a smaller flower hidden between the rocks and the lichen that covered the boulders added to the color like nothing he had ever seen in the states. For an hour, he actually forgot about the reason for the forced march. That was until Pete called a break on a little knoll. He pulled out a small map of the place, the first time he had referred to an artificial means of reference during the trip so far. “Take a look at this map guys.” Pete asked.
They all gathered around the wrinkled sheet of paper as he pointed out the places they had been. He was leading up to something and after they had seen the lake where the abduction had taken place, the old trapper’s cabin and the field where Foch had been killed, Pete stopped and asked if any of them could see a pattern.
Steve studied the chart, drawing a line from each point they had been. Then he looked around at everything within a fifty mile radius of where Pete had said they were. There was a pattern to their march, the others were moving in a large semi-circle and if Steve had it figured right, all they had to do was cut an arc across a continuation of the circle and they would meet them at about the same point. Without saying anything Steve pointed to the camp and then moved it along the path until he had reached the place they were then. Then he scribed a straight line to a point where he thought they could cut them off.
“Well done, Steve! That was my thinking, also. If we hike along your line we should catch them. The only thing is the bastards might change course. Riley, you and O’Hara keep on their trail in the normal fashion and keep in touch with the walkie-talkie. Steve and I will try to cut them off.” He pointed to a place on the map that they would meet if everything went right. “If you two catch up with them—stay back a safe distance and call us. I don’t want to take any chances with the boy!”
“We’ll check in every hour! Let’s go O’Hara!” Riley ordered.
The two mounties didn’t waste anytime getting back on the trail and as far as that want, neither did Pete and Steve. The rocky, open ground gave way to rocky woods as they found the old trapper trail that lead them beside the still waters of a beaver lake. The woods that surrounded the water showed signs that the beaver population was finally returning to the size that would soon take the species off the endangered list. Almost all the smaller saplings had been cut and pulled to the lake for repair of the dam or the building of new island homes. Pete seemed genuinely pleased at what he saw going on around them. He pulled out his notebook and began writing in it.
“What’s that for?” Steve asked.
“The fish and game people will be interested in knowing that the little animals are coming back to the pond. Two years ago, this was deserted. It was almost a write off as far as the conservationists were concerned.”
“Wow! You mean that this place was trapped so much that the beaver disappeared?”
“That’s it! Would you like to take a break here or push on until we get to the spot?” Pete said, somewhat changing the subject.
“Let’s move on. I don’t want to miss getting Gene back. If he doesn’t make it, there are going to be some rather sad kids back at the island one in particular.”
“You mean Clint?” Pete asked.
“Yeah—he’d probably kick off if we didn’t come back with that kid. Hell, we all use to have the little kid whenever we wanted him, now we almost have to ask permission from Clint before we can.”
“Are you sure it’s that bad?”
“Well, not really. I just think they are getting into a thing—at least Gene is about Clint that is really going to be a life-long thing. I guess that wouldn’t be too bad. We can always find another kid that likes older guys. How far do you think it is to the spot where we meet them?” Steve inquired. He was getting a little down thinking about Gene and wanted to change the subject. Several times while they were walking Gene’s image had flashed through his mind and he almost let his eyes get a little misty thinking about the good times they had.
Pete sensed that it was time to alter the subject, too. “I think about seven miles. The only thing I’m worried about is the terrain. This trail hasn’t been used for one hell of a long time and it could be washed out about two miles up the creek bed. If it is, then we get to add another mile to the distance and another hour.”
Steve was amazed at the various types of terrain that they had been over since they began their journey; watery, wooded, hilly, flat and open fields. He had trouble believing that they had only traveled less than thirty miles to see all the varieties. Another thing that Steve found amazing was his stamina. He had hoofed it over the whole route with the others and wasn’t feeling the strain. In the Marine Corps if he had to make a twenty-five mile forced march, he and the others would be ready to drop or would have. He knew why he wasn’t tired and wouldn’t be until they had Gene back. What he would do to those bastards if they hurt the boy! Plans for medieval tortures sped through his brain as he walked. He unslung his M-14 several times to make certain the bore was clean and the dust wasn’t obscuring the lenses of the telescopic sight.
Pete could see the tension building in his partner and knew that he would have to find some way of relaxing the ex-marine. “Steve, do you remember the time you and I got it on?”
“Yeah, sort of.” Steve said as he snapped back to reality. “We sneaked away from the cabin while my old man and the others bullshitted about the fish that got away that day. I kind of liked the way you went down on me that night.”
“Pete,” he said then stopped.
“What is it, Steve?”
“Would you like to fuck me when we get to the spot where we are supposed to wait?”
Pete wasn’t certain he heard the young man right and asked him to repeat. “You want me to do what?”
“Fuck me! Would you fuck me?” Steve replied.
“If you only knew how long I have waited for you to say that. Hell yes I’ll fuck you! When we get to the place and get settled down. I think we should have enough time to get off a little.” Pete was ecstatic. He knew the guy had promised something after the chase was over, but thought it might be another suck session—maybe a fuck but he doubted it. Now he was certain that he was going to get in the guy’s ass and he couldn’t have been happier. The pace quickened as they topped the shale hill. Climbing another small rise, they caught the top arc of the sun dropping under the tall pine trees. Darkness settled in quickly as they made their way along the almost hidden path.
“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Steve chided.
“Fuck, I hope so. It’s been about two years since I was on this muther, but all you have to do is walk for the notch in the hills straight ahead.” Pete said as he pointed to the only obvious landmark.
“How close to that are we going to get?” Steve inquired, guessing the notch to be about ten miles away.
“We’ll stop about midway between it and where we are now. How far do you think it is?”
Steve gave his answer and immediately found out how far he was off. Much to his pleasure, he found out the intersecting trail was only two miles off. If everything went right, they would be there in an hour. That did more for his morale than anything had so far that day. His feet were finally beginning to let him know just how tired he was getting.
“They should come right through here!” Pete stated confidently. Laying his rifle against a large boulder the mountie slid his pack from his back and placed it in a convenient notch. “Might as well take off your pack, also. I couldn’t tell you how long we’ll be here.”
Gratefully Steve worked his arms out of the shoulder straps of his heavy nylon pack and placed it next to Pete’s. Looking around at their new home he began to realize why Pete had picked it. In the Marine Corps, the whole thing was concealment and cover—they had it! They also had a nice area to stretch out along with a perfect view of both ends of the gap they overlooked. If La Strop and the others came through it, it would be no problem at all picking them off with the rifles. Steve knew that Pete was going to bring them in alive, as they say, but Steve didn’t care one way or another. He would just as soon pick them off and let them drop! He positioned his rifle next to Pete’s and got ready for the long wait.
“There are some things I want to do before they get here, but to make sure we have enough time to set things up right I want to find out where they are.” Pete commented. Pulling the walkie-talkie from his pack he turned on the on and off switch and let it warm up before lifting the unit to his head and calling out the call sign to the other party. They answered immediately which kept the suspense down to a minimum.
“Give me your location!” Pete ordered. He waited for the answer and continued, “Keep us informed, Out.”
“What’s it look like?” Steve asked.
“Looks great. O’Hara and Riley have caught up with them and they say Gene appears to be okay.”
Steve let out a sigh of relief and then asked, “How far are they from here?”
“The closest I can figure—about ten miles. They have quit for the night and would be moving until morning. We should have plenty of time to rig up a couple of things to welcome them with.”
“And time to do something else, too!” Steve offered. His mind was filled with the thoughts of Pete’s enormous joint stretching his ass. He looked at the florescent dial on his watch, “eight o’clock, that should give us plenty of time to do just about anything we want to do!” he thought.
Pete set a small box next to his pack and then joined the relaxed guide.
Neither of them were in a hurry to get things underway as Pete settled down close to his partner.
“It sure is a beautiful night. I hope nothing fucks it up for us. We should be able to spend the whole night right here without bein’ hassled.” Pete stated.
“That’s okay with me!” Steve agreed. He felt a gentle hand move over his thigh as he talked. “Thank God, he started!” Steve thought.
Pete’s roaming hand slowly worked its way over the tight Levis that covered the well-muscled thigh, following each line of declination to the next muscle. Each passing moment brought the fingers a little closer to Steve’s joy stick and he was waiting with anxious anticipation of the second he could feel the sinewy hand touch the already excited joint.
Pete was in no hurry as he talked about the day’s events—he wanted to make the night last and cap it off with the thing he had dreamed of these many years. He was tired also, but wasn’t about to let fatigue get in his way. Not tonight! Tonight would be between him and Steve, it would be theirs and no body else’s. He felt Steve wiggle closer to his side, he could hear him breathing and smell his warm body next to him. The setting was perfect and so was his partner. Without moving his hand, he rolled over on his side and propped himself up on his elbow. As he looked into the warm dark eyes below him, he felt compelled to lean forward and kiss Steve. It was like a magnet that drew his lips closer and closer to the moist waiting mouth below. His lips touched Steve’s and that was all she wrote as both men threw themselves into a passionate make out session.
Steve was the first to send his tongue darting out in search of Pete’s and as the two touched it was like a bolt of lightning arcing across the night sky. It seemed as if they were trying to outdo each other with their love as the one fondling hand was joined by another. Buttons on the shirts began to pop through the holes exposing mighty chest for fingers to explore.
Steve couldn’t wait any longer, he had to find out just how big of a cock he was going to sit on. His nimble fingers raced for the trousers that were imprisoning his quest. Madly he worked the fly loose as a willing Pete arched his hips so the pants could be dropped over the straining thighs easier. With the aid of the dim star light, Steve could see the huge shaft hovering just over Pete’s naval. He broke his grip with the material and immediately moved to the rearing stallion. “Jesus! That thing has grown since I saw it last!” He exclaimed loudly.
“Do you think you can handle it?” Pete inquired.
“Fuck, there is only one way to find out. Roll over on your back. I want to sit on that thing and let you jack me off at the same time. Is that okay with you?”
“Hell yes! Let me finish undressing you and then you can do anything you want.” Pete reached over with both hands and began pulling the faded Levis down around Steve’s beautiful ass and over his thighs. In less than a minute the young man was kneeling beside the Mountie completely nude. His rigid whang stood straight out above the other upreaching pole. Fumbling through his pack, Steve found a tube of Bryllcreme in a side pocket. “Here it is. Damn, I thought I’d lost the damn thing or used it up.” Rapidly unscrewing the cap and setting it on a convenient rock, he squeezed two narrow white trails over his finger tips. Laying the tube next to the cap he groped his way to the immense muscle that was bobbing several inches about Pete’s stomach and introduced the creme from tip to base on the shaft. His fingers danced over the rod as they worked the substance into every centimeter that was to enter his rear end. “There, that’s taken care of!”
“I know, you almost had a handful of come in your hand before we even got to the good part.” Pete replied.
“Shit, I don’t want to do that!” Steve moved so he was straddling Pete’s stomach on his knees. “You ready?”
“Feel free. I’ve been ready for the last ten years for this night. You may start any time and the sooner the better.”
Steve smiled down and then reached behind him for the invader that was going inside him. Adjusting it to the right position, he began lowering down to meet it. Slowly he guided the hose between his cheeks until it rested right at the tight dusky knot. He could feel the pressure build as he continued to drop and then all the sudden the aperture gave way and the huge crown was nestled just inside. It was big, there was no getting around it. In fact, it was probably the biggest Steve could remember having. He didn’t care really, it was just the fact that it felt so damned great that he wished it was bigger. Meticulously his body sank, driving the swollen tool further in and with each inch, it felt as if it were getting hotter and hotter. Like a knife through butter the gargantuan whang sliced its way until the whole thing was buried. Steve was now sitting flat on Pete’s hips and his balls were neatly cradled like eggs in a nest on Pete’s pubic mat.
“Goddamn, you’re a tight sonofabitch. Why don’t you just sit there for a while.” Pete suggested as he reached for Steve’s prod.
“Fine with me. Just say when.” The slippery shaft was feeling better by the second as it pulsated within his ass. Steve couldn’t believe how great the short respite—there was no hurry while he adjusted to the size. To make matters better, Pete had started jacking him off. Steve really dug it. Every time Pete would bring his first to the crown, Steve’s balls would lift off the soft hairy mat and then settle back down gently. He couldn’t get enough of it.
“Do you think you could start now?” Pete asked sensuously.
Steve didn’t say a word as he flexed his thighs and started to rise from the hips. He felt the monster easing back out and stopped just as the flaring helmet touched the super sensitive prostate. As the thrill ripped through his body he lowered himself back down only to start up again. The steady pace he was setting was having its effect on Pete as he missed a few strokes on Steve’s prod when he felt the slick anal knot tighten around him.
“Oh, muther. You have to be the wildest thing I’ve had in years. Not even those Indians in the trading post could rip me apart like you are doing!” Pete moaned. He closed his eyes and let the sounds of the night along with the gentle sounds of Steve’s balls slapping on his stomach dance through his head. He hadn’t been fucked like this in more than a year, almost forgetting the pleasure of being on the bottom and still having his rod in a sheath as tight as Steve’s.
For Steve it was about the same feeling—he loved being the engineer when it came to getting fucked and this way he could regulate the time he had a joint in him. Just the feeling of having a super heated cock the size of the Mounties was enough to make him draw the episode out as long as he could. After a few minutes of bouncing straight up and down, his thighs began to show the toll of hiking during the day and fucking at night. Even if he wanted to do something about continuing the same technique his legs had different ideas. To remedy the painful experience he slowly rocked forward to his hands. Now he was on all fours—his head just above Pete’s now as he rocked back and forth. “Ah, much better,” he thought as he sensed a new charged rip through his body. The two silken jewels that had been raising and lowering into Pete’s hairy nest were now maintaining steady contact with his stomach. The light tingly feeling was with him to stay as the gonies wore a path back and forth over the firm flesh. He found that he could increase the speed a little in the position also.
Pete was digging on the new action, also. He could rest his hand on his own stomach and let Steve fuck it while he was rocking on his cock.
Neither of the men noticed, but the wind seemed to be in sympathy with them. As their passions began building so did the intensity of the breeze. With each stroke it seemed the wind increased a little more until the soft whispering pines screamed at the two lovers below. The fresh wind belted new vitality into Steve’s face reviving him over again for more and better love making. Consciously, he wasn’t yet aware of the increased winds and wouldn’t of cared even if he had.
Pete was beginning to moan softly as the tempo built. “You’d better slow down a little. I feel it coming!”
Steve did more than that as he sensed his own nuts constricting. He lowered back on the fiery lance and stopped the whole thing. He was content to sit with the burning pole rest in his bowels. Carefully he lowered his head down to Pete until his dry lips touched the Mounties. It seemed as it sparks leaped across the tiny gap as they drew together.
Pete was ready for the lips and attacked them unmercifully when they made contact. He sent his tongue as a spearhead for the continuing siege on the oral bastion. For five minutes they diverted their energies from the torsos to the heads. The hot lunging tongues danced from one mouth and the retreated as the other would launch a counter-attack. Back and forth, giving and taking the oral liquid of love as the attentions were diverted from their super-heated crotches.
Steve found it possible to rotate his hips at the same time he was making out and with the subdued circular movement began building the pressures back up. This time he was going to get them both off at the same time if he could or die trying. Gently, breaking the lip lock he rose a little to get things back in full motion. The second he started Steve could feel the tension build immediately within his groin as if he hadn’t stopped at all. This was going to be it! The hot sausage was again tickling his prostate and the firm fist was around his column. By the sounds coming from the Mountie, he, too, was ready to unload. The pace built until Steve could barely maintain a regular rhythm any longer. His pulse was like it had never been before—race faster and faster with each stroke. His brain was boggled by the myriad of signals it was receiving from every part of his body. It sensed the gonies tightening and churning just waiting for the blast to let go. His prostate was sending nothing but jumbled messages that translated into a shower for sparklers and flashing lightning. His swelling rod was adding to the confusion as the throbbing tempo ripped through him. He was out of breath and panting like a mad man as the tension built in every part of him.
Pete was in no better shape and it appeared as if the two would reach vallhalla together. The Mounties’ body tightened as to moment grew closer and his hips involuntarily began driving upward to meet the pounding. His breathing, too, was comparable to that of a track miler after a race.
Steve’s nuts were now boiling like they had never boiled before. Soft groans rushed from his lips as his rod expanded the last time before sending the molten jazz out small slit at the apex of his firing helmet. All the sudden he could feel Pete’s belly convulsing and jabbing upward. At the same time he felt the lava-like barrage pelting his inflamed colon walls with the scalding cream that the beautiful eggs had produced for him. Again and again, Pete lunged upward, each time sending out another wad to coat the chamber walls.
As the first charge struck the lining it touched off the trip wire that was connected to his own reservoir of love glue. The dam burst as the overpowering pressure crashed against it and the man sap was on its way down the long straight tube to finally fly out into the cool night air. Outward it shot just above the rigid torso. Over the wash-boarded stomach, past the bulging diaphragm and just clearing the heaving chest. It finally came to rest on Pete’s three day old beard and throat. Lazy, thick rivers of the white cream trickled through the stubble to join the less powerful wads that had meandered down his neck.
Pete continued to work on the pumping tool until he was certain that he had drained every last drop from it. He loved the feeling of the hot pools of jazz cooling on his body and was about to hasten their rem oval.
Steve flexed his sphincter over and over until he was sure he had accomplished the same thing Pete had with his rod.
Still engaged, Steve flopped forward into the waiting arms that were reaching up for him.
“Can’t we wait for a little more? I don’t want you to take that rod out of me yet.” Steve stated. “I guess so, but we can’t wait too long.” Several minutes before rolling over to Pete’s side. The full impact of what was happening around them finally struck his sex soaked mind.
The black sky with its twinkling white stars was no longer above them. It had been replaced with the blacker clouds that helped make the woods even more scary. The wind was still picking up in its ferocity and the pine trees were at its mercy. Occasionally a bolt of lightning would race across the sky, temporarily lighting the rocky outcropping where the two men were waiting.
The white spears came at closer intervals as the two watched. Under other circumstances the electrical display would have been a beautiful sight, but the awe would have to wait. Steve dressed quickly as Pete rolled up the down sleeping bag and secured it to the back pack. After strapping the packs on their back, they made their way off the top of the hill which would have made too good of a lightning rod. Half way down the hill they were greeted by yet another surprise. Steve was the first to feel the huge drops landing on him. First they were leisurely in their appearance on the scene, but as the men approached the bottom of the hill the rain was making a definite attempt to get them all wet and just as fast as it could.
Pete and Steve helped each other pull the waterproof panchos from their packs and situate them so they could stay as dry as possible.
Pete knew this was going to be a lulu of a storm as they tried to find safe refuge at the base of the hill. “I’m going to give a try at reaching the others on the walkie-talkie,” he yelled above the volume of the raging wind. He reached under the glistening poncho and extracted the portable radio. After the call signs he received a reply from Riley. The message was interrupted by occasional static from the lightening but they could understand each other. Pete relayed the information to Steve as he listened to the others talking. “It seems as if they found a cave—a nice dry cave.” Pete said.
“Tell them to go fuck themselves!” Steve replied. “I did!” Pete stated smiling as he did.
“Fuckers!”
Pete tucked the radio under his poncho and the two continued to look for a protected area that they could use. Finding a small alcove under a cluster of boulders and crawled in as the rain and wind built to ungodly proportions. All hell was breaking loose.
From the small nook under the rocks, Steve and Pete could see the whole show. They watched as the water worked its way down the hills past them and on the valley floor where they joined other streams. Within five minutes there was a five foot wide rushing river in the gulley, growing with every drop that fell. They could only see when the lightening flashed over head and saw the glistening forest to give way to the stronger elements of nature. A cold chill ran through their bones as they saw a huge old pine split down the middle by a bolt less than fifty feet away. The sound reached them instantly and resounded through the valley like a hundred cannons. Both halves of the lofty tree began to fall to the ground like they were part of a ballet. The one half came crashing down only a few feet from the boulder they were under and the heavy branches brushed alone the entrance.
“Sonofabitch!” Steve exclaimed. “Is this going to last all night?”
“Probably and a good part of tomorrow. This is the last storm of the winter and if the temperature was any lower we would be cussing at the snow. There is still a good chance of it turning to the white stuff before morning and if it does—we are really in a world of shit.” Pete explained.
“At least we will be able to follow La Strop’s trail if they change their mind.”
“That will be the only good thing about the snow if it comes. You know that one inch of rain equals ten inches of snow. Right now we would be up to our balls in snow drifts if it were colder.”
“Shit, that’s right. Fuck, don’t get any colder!” Steve yelled aiming his incantation to the black clouds above.
Pete chuckled at the statement, but deep inside felt the same way. He knew this was the worst storm he seen in that part of Canada all his life. His thoughts changed from one idea to the next before he had think them out thoroughly. They flashed to the boys still on the island then to the two Mounties in the cave and finally to the two men with Gene someplace in between. What more could he think about. The main topic that came back time and again was that of the boy with LaStrop and Browning. What had they done to him and what were they going to do with him once they got tired of his beautiful body. He was hoping that he and the others could get to them before they did, before they killed the kid or maimed him so he would be no good to anyone else. He vowed to himself that if anything happened to Gene, those responsible would never get back to jail alive. This would be the one time that the Mounties would get their man, but with a new twist. Once he got him he would get rid of him.
He could hear Steve’s breathing settle down to the steady rhythm of slumber as he thought about the boy. Relocating himself so he could see the bottom of the valley, he began letting his fantasies take over. As he stared at the rising water, envisioned LaStrop tying Genes hands and feet and throwing him into the swelling current. He saw Browning taking the lad to the top of the hill and lashing him to the tallest tree and letting the lightning cremate him. His next thought was of the first time he set eyes on the boy at the island. His long hair blowing in the breeze coming off the lake, Gene’s cute, sexy smile that seemed to radiate love and trust. He was totally unaware of the growing bulge under the poncho as he thought about the ravishing features the boy had to offer. He was also unaware that as he sat cross legged under the broad tenting rain barrier that he had unzipped his fly and was slowly jacking himself off to the visions of the boys imagined nude body. His thoughts had the look of a Hollywood love movie with Gene as the main character running in slow motion through the clover field they had found Foch in. Pete could see every detail of the kids body from the angelic face and the well put together chest and stomach right down to the crotch where he envisioned a beautiful hardon as he bounced through the clover. The faster he saw the scenes the faster he pumped his own dong. He was ready for anything as he stroked the still slightly slippery tool.
As the largest, most brilliant bolt of lightning split the black sky he returned to reality realizing that he was about ready to pop his second load that night. It was the first time in several years that he had bothered to shoot twice in one night and he was a bit astonished as he wiped his finger over the bulging crown that it was moist with the sticky pre seminal fluid that had always previewed the reason for the excitement. Pete meticulously rubbed the liquid over the throbbing head and down the shaft as far as it would reach only to return again for the next batch that had exited the tiny slit.
More visions of Gene’s dilemma raced across his mind as if fantasy and reality were fighting for his control. He felt the wild sensation of the climax building within his nuts and the closer it got the more frantic he would pull the throbbing joint. With his free hand he carefully lifted the front of the poncho and straightened his legs in front of him. Then as the camera of his minds eye zoomed in for a close-up of Gene’s face the first wad spirted its way from his walnut skinned gonies along the delivery tube and out the tip. It wasn’t as good as the fuck earlier, but it was what he needed right then and it was okay with him. He watched as the first blast arched between his legs and finally came to rest in a small pool of rain water. It was followed by several more.
As the pearly white come drops landed they were joined by huge drops of rain that mingled with the sperm and dissipated it evenly in the pool. He waited until the last drop had been shaken from the hose and then carefully returned it to the semi-dry trousers. His mind still wandered to the vision of Gene’s face, this time it was smiling even brighter as if it knew what Pete had done and why.
The rain was still coming down in the morning when Steve opened his eyes to the cloudy sky. He saw Pete sitting in the same place he had been all night and noticed that he was still wide awake. “Have you sleep at all?”
“No, why?” Pete replied.
“Just wondered…Why didn’t you wake me up so I could stand guard for a while?”
“I don’t know. It’s pretty easy for me to stay awake. Take a look at the gully.”
“Fuck a duck. Hasn’t the rain let up at all?”
“Not in the slightest!” Pete exclaimed.
“It’s almost like Viet Nam.” Steve said as he watched the water rush down the rocky gully. He looked up and down the small valley surveying the damage done by the lightning and the torrential rains. He saw about fifteen trees that had been split, including the one that would have nailed them had the rock not been there. “What are we going to do today?”
“I thought we should start working our way upstream to meet them. We can’t stay here any longer.”
“Why?”
“The water washed out all the traps I set and with all the rain, I doubt if they will come this way. There is a trail that cuts along the ridge of the next hill that I think they’ll take. There are some good places along the ridge that we can ambush them from. Are you ready to move out?”
Eagerly Steve nodded to the affirmative and the two men dawned their packs and began climbing the hill. They thought they had it rough going up the shale the day before with it giving way under every foot step. This climb was much worse—not only were the stones wet and slippery, but the wooded hillside was covered with moss. Struggling inch by inch with the rain still falling, it didn’t take them long to realize that it was going to a mother fucker of a day. Half way up the incline, Steve lost his footing completely, his boots went straight back and Steve went straight down, face first into the loamy soil.
“Nobody called a break yet!” Pete quipped. “Let’s get on your feet and get going.”
Steve propped himself up on his elbows and gave Pete one of the most disgusting looks the Mountie could ever remember receiving. The expression was accompanied with an appropriate comment, too.
“Fuck you!” came the scornful phrase.
“Thank you, but I don’t think we have time now.” Pete replied, smiling his best for the young man.
Steve gave the Mountie another wry look and scrambled to his feet with a little trouble. “You know, I’m beginning to like the rain about as much as I did over in Viet Nam.”
“That little, huh!”
“Yep! I hate the shit!” Steve announced. He began smiling now and as the water droplets ran down his face, he seemed to have a new vibrant expression. One that said to move on to the next hill and the next if need be. Things seemed to be better after the comic relief and Steve began closing the gap between them. They walked for the better part of an hour before taking a long enough break to brew some coffee under the first dry outcropping they came to. Pete pulled a small propane single burner stove out of his pack along with a pot and several packets of instant coffee. “We can rest here for thirty minutes or longer if you want to.”
“Just long enough to get some of this coffee down me. How long do you think it will be before we spot them?”
Pete thought for a while as if weighing every possible angle. “We should see them sometime around noon. And then we follow them for a mile or so before we bust them. That is if they still have Gene.”
“If they don’t…” Steve asked.
“We open fire as soon as we see them. We wound them and that’s all. If that happens—just follow my lead. Okay?” Pete said, his voice was shallow but still very mean.
“If they don’t have Gene, God can have their soul, because their asses belong to me!”
Pete and Steve sat under the ledge sipping their coffee, first one cup and then another, letting the brew add fuel to the fires of hate. They were both ready to kill, thanks to the meditation and the weather. Both men had thoughts of torture and slow death as they watched the rain splashing over the flat rocks in front of them.
“You ready to go?” Pete asked.
“Let’s do it.”
Walking the ridge route higher and higher until they were almost in the clouds. That was a feeling they wouldn’t forget for a while. They could still see the valleys and hills below them as they walked.
Then like a bolt from the blue the rain stopped. It was still cloudy, but the fucking rain had stopped. Now they were just wet and getting cold. As they walked on, the sky became lighter and lighter until the first rays of brilliant white light slit through the thinning soup. Then more sun, each little beam burning off a little more covering until there was nothing but blue skies again.
