By Mark Wildyr
STARbooks Press, Herndon, VA

Copyright © 2014 by STARbooks Press
ISBN 13: 978-1-61303-089-9
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, situations and incidents are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Published in the United States by STARbooks Press, PO Box 711612, Herndon, VA 20171. Printed in the United States
Cover Design by Emma Aldous:


     April 4, my eighteenth birthday. Took its own sweet time rolling around. Talk about Indian time! They was pretty good years till a drunk ran my old man off the road two summers back. They always talk about drunk Indians killing white folks. Well, this whitey wiped out my mom and dad, two brothers, and an aunt. Only reason I ain’t laying over in the boneyard with them, I was out to my uncle’s place helping him catch a pony. Been with him ever since. My aunt was his woman, and since they didn’t have kids, him and me was all that was left.
     At first, things was okay with him, but then he took to the bottle to make the hurt go away. Damned near everything went but the hurt. His old pickup broke down and was rusting away on blocks in front of the house. His job dried up. His horses got sold for bottles of booze and cases of beer. The last thing to go was him caring for me, but that was dead, too. We was nothing but a habit now. Oh, we got along okay – except when I tried to steal his bottle. And that’s whenever I could.
Only reason we still had a roof over our heads is we live out in the boonies on this little Indian reservation. When the pickup went down, I scrounged a bicycle from the dump and fixed it up enough to get around. Riding that bike sure works up an appetite, and times is lean now.
     Toweling off from a bath, I examined myself in the cracked mirror. What I saw looked Grade-A-Choice-Prime. I was filled out like a full-grown man. My belly was sorta gut-shrunk since coming by a meal got harder, but my chest was deeper than most guys I know. I like my face and thick black hair, and from the way girls come on to me, they like it, too.
     I figured out my cock was good for something besides pissing the year I turned fourteen. I did it to Mazie Longbow out behind the scrub bushes at Rock Springs. It was big even back then. Pretty soon, I heard it was going around that I had the biggest one in school. After that, I got my candle lit pretty much whenever I wanted.
     In fact, the big fucker kept me in booze and groceries last spring when I run onto this white woman in town looking for somebody to take care of her yard. I piddled around in her lawn grass until she invited me in for a cold drink. After that, I took care of her belly grass for the summer. She couldn’t believe it when I told her I was just seventeen; course, I look a couple of years older’n I am. She claimed I fucked better than any man she knew. I was sorta sorry when she’n her old man moved out-of-state, even if I was getting kinda tired of showing up once a week. Too much like a job.
     Funny thing was, as much as I liked screwing, I’d never had a steady girl. Never did form a real attachment to one. I’d latch on real tight for a couple of weeks, make one feel special, and then start looking around for another one.
     Most of my buddies nowadays was guys who’d hang around and drink with me. Not too hard to get hold of alcohol even if this was a reservation and I’m underage. I got real close to a couple of guys, but it only lasted till they got serious about a girl. Then it was like I wasn’t willing to share friends because I’d forget that guy and go hunt me up another best buddy.
     I have to admit getting taken care of nowadays wasn’t as easy as it used to be. My own fault. I’ve been through all the available girls on the reservation, and in Blue Valley, the town just outside the rez. I had a rep ... love ‘em and leave ‘em. So except for three or four who always give it to me when I’m desperate, my wick wasn’t getting dipped much without going to new territory.
     Well, today Charlie Blackbear was moving to new territory. Charlie Blackbear, that’s me. Eighteen-year-old-Plains Indian superstud. A powwow over at Flynn’s Corners about a hundred miles down the road was gonna be my hunting ground for the next few days. If I was lucky, I’d latch onto a white woman who liked red cock, so I could put something in my pocket alongside the lone dollar bill already there. Then I’d hunt me up some native fluff and treat myself to a birthday present.
I worried over which would work up more of a sweat: bicycle riding or walking the long, sunny mile from the house to the highway. I ended up riding the bike and hiding it behind some rocks. It was a good hour before a new Buick, drifted to a halt. The driver was a white man in his late twenties. I always look at them close, sizing them up in case of trouble. He had good muscles, was better’n six foot, and carried forty pounds on me. Have to mind my manners with this one.
     “Hop in,” he said. “My name’s Bart. Where you headed?”
     “Charlie.” I shook his outstretched hand. I was right; he was strong. “Flynn’s Corners.”
     “Heading for the powwow? Saw a flyer back down the road,” he explained.
     “Yeah, thought I’d go scare up a girl.”
     “Good-looking young fellow like you ought to have a steady one.”
     I grinned. “Rather get lots of them once, than one of them lots.”
     He laughed and slapped his knee. “And I bet you get lots, too.”
     A little macho bragging would probably go over with this guy. “Run through most of them around here. Looking for new territory. Bet you had your share.”
     “I guess I have at that.”
     He bought us steaks at a truck stop between Blue Valley and Flynn’s Corners. I’m not bashful, so I really stuffed it down. Hell, I didn’t know when I’d get to eat again. Old Bart kept right up with me. Before we left, we went in to take a leak. He stood at the urinal right beside me, and I was feeling funny about sneaking a peek at his big cock when he snorted.
     “Damn, Charlie! You’re hung like a horse.”
     I got embarrassed for some reason, even though I been hearing that shit ever since I was in junior high. I shook it off and stuffed it back in my pants. “You ain’t no slouch, neither,” I said in an offhand kinda way.
     “No, but I’m a bigger man than you are. If I had one as big as you built to my scale, I’d put a mule to shame.”
     We laughed our way to the car and talked about a lot of stuff that didn’t mean nothing. Bart was an architect on his way back home to Santa Fe, New Mexico, from a business trip. I told him what happened to my folks and about staying with my uncle who lived in a bottle nowadays. Come to think of it, I hadn’t laid eyes on Uncle Jim in a week.
     When he let me off at the powwow, Bart asked about a good motel. He thought he’d stay overnight and take in some of the dancing before heading on home tomorrow. I told him about the fanciest place I knew.
     A pretty fair crowd already milled around the fairgrounds, but I couldn’t find a woman, red or white, that looked like she had some money. I wasted time on a gal gussied up in a fancy jingle dress, but when I put the moves on her she backed out because her boyfriend was in town.
     Managed to rub up against another pretty little thing a couple of times in the crowd so she’d get an idea of what I was carrying. She didn’t seem to mind, but her folks hunted her down, and her dad looked mean as hell. It didn’t seem like that was going nowhere, so I split.
     When I went in the rest room to take a leak, I kicked a wallet somebody had dropped. There was fifty dollars in cash and some credit cards in it. I didn’t want no trouble, so I just took the cash and tossed the billfold back where it was.
     Since I had a little money now, I ate two burritos and had a soda pop, using the time to find out the bootlegger was out back behind the rodeo stables. A dozen guys hung around the area pulling on bottles or draining cans and trying to ignore the smell of horseshit. One was Homer, a guy I used to pal around with till he got married. I ransomed a bottle and moseyed on over to join him setting against a fence talking to another guy. I give him a handshake and a hello.
     I don’t know where the rest of the day or my money went. I remember Homer hauling me to my feet, saying the fairground was closing, but I thought about him deserting me for some woman and shook him off. I got sorta snorty, so he just left. I hunkered back down to finish my bottle and get a little sleep.
     The cold woke me up in a dark and deserted fairground. Cussing, I climbed over the fence and stomped out to the highway. It musta been a good mile, and it was freezing! I was shaking like a quaking aspen by the time a car came by. Thought it was gonna pass me up, but it pulled over a way down the road. I tried to run, but nearly fell on my ass, so I just plodded along, halfway expecting it to lose patience and pull off. It didn’t though, just sat there blowing little white puffs out the tailpipe like it was sending smoke signals. I thought it was that Bart fellow, but this was a Caddy, not a Buick. The inside was nice and warm. Either the guy had a blurry face or else I wasn’t seeing too good. He was a white man – who else would have a new Caddy – in his thirties. First thing I asked was if he had anything to drink.
     “Had enough already, haven’t you?” he asked.
     “Fuck no!” I shook my head, and it kept on shaking like it had a mind of its own. Ha! My head had a mind of its own. That was funny.
     “I’ve got a bottle, but it’s packed away in my suitcase.”
     “Bar,” I slurred at him.
     “Closed, partner. It’s two-thirty in the morning. My name’s John.”
     He wanted to know if I was from around here. I shook my head again, and he asked if I had a place to stay. When I said no, he invited me to share his motel room so we could break out his bottle and have a party. Sounded good to me.
     John got a room with one of those great big beds. Wished he’d of got a place with two, but it wasn’t the first time I’d bunked with some guy at a party. He unpacked a quart of bourbon and went in the bathroom to clean up. Bourbon ain’t my favorite, but it was alcohol, so I got right down to drinking. Breaking the seal on the bottle, I sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed and took a big swig before remembering this was a white man. He’d probably get his ass in an uproar over drinking after an Indian. So I found one of those little plastic glasses and poured it full.
     A chunk of liquor was gone before he came back out, but it didn’t seem like he minded. When he claimed his share of the bottle, it disappeared kinda fast. After it was gone, there wasn’t anything else to do but turn in. I remember stripping down to my skivvies, but that’s about it.
     I had weird dreams. I was doing it to this girl I rubbed up against at the powwow, and she was great. No, that wasn’t right. She was doing it to me, ‘cause I was just laying back and enjoying it without doing none of the work. I was gonna cream all over myself if I didn’t wake up, so I started struggling up out of the pit. I come half-awake about the time I busted my balls. I felt my jism shoot, and it wasn’t any dream! My cum squirted out into something wet and warm.
     Son of a bitch! That John guy was blowing me. The bastard was sucking my dick! I oughta get up and beat him to a pulp, but I didn’t have the energy. I lay there groaning while my balls pumped cum in his mouth. I’d beat on the bastard tomorrow. I drifted off again while he was still sucking on me.
     The next morning, the sound of a key in the lock woke me up. A maid came in, saw me, and scooted back out the door. Then I found forty bucks and a note on the dresser.
     “You were wonderful. I’ve never had a cock as big and hard as yours, and I’ve had a few in my life. When you came, I thought you were never going to stop. I hope you don’t mind, but I used your leg after that wonderful experience. I tried to do it again for you this morning, but you didn’t get hard, so I just stood beside the bed looking at your angel face while I jerked off. Hope I meet you again someday. I left a little something for you and paid another day on the room in case you wake up after checkout time. So you have the room for another night if you want it. Wish I could be here with you. Also wish I had a measuring tape. I’d like to know just how big you are. And uncircumcised. Don’t find many like that anymore. John.”
     I wadded the note up and tossed it in a corner. The fucker’d bought and paid for me. Used me like a whore. Skin crawling, I rushed to the shower, lathered up, and scrubbed so hard my flesh was raw. Then I stood under the pelting water, fuming. Shit! I wasn’t a fucking queer. At least, the sucker had sense enough to clear out before I came to. I’d of killed him last night if I hadn’t passed out.
     When I came out of the bathroom, the same maid who woke me up was peeking in the door. I stopped, holding the towel in front of me while she said she needed to clean the room.
     “Come on in, but I’m gonna get dressed.”
     She closed the door behind her, so I figured she liked what she seen. I dropped the towel and turned to the sink to comb my hair. She musta been looking at me because my bare butt felt goosey. I got the queer’s note out of the corner and put it with my clothes so she wouldn’t read that shit.
     When I looked around, she was sitting on the edge of the bed eyeing my cock. She wasn’t bad looking. A little older’n I liked them unless I was trying to score some bread. I went over and put my crotch right in her face. She tried to give me a blowjob, but I was too big, or else she wasn’t no good at it. It sure didn’t feel like that guy last night. That thought flew through my head before I saw it coming.
     I motioned for her to lie down. She slipped out of her panties and got on her back. She had a little trouble taking it all at first, but after it was in, she handled everything I gave her. I fucked her like a real man, wishing that pansy son of a bitch was here to see I wasn’t no queer. She got it twice before I emptied my balls and filled her tank. I gave her one of the twenties – she probably needed it more’n I did – and got cleaned up again. I goosed her in the crack of her ass on my way out of the room.

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