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TEXAS 1956 Vol. 1 – Chapter 20
As Clayton's ordeal was ending, Jimmy Smithson's night was just beginning. A half-hour after Hank and Dirk walked him to the mess hall to eat dinner together, Smithson approached the guardhouse in his car and stopped at the lift gate, rolled down his window, and saluted.
"Goin' out on the town?" his roommate asked, grinning.
"Yes sir," he replied, filling in the sign-out sheet on a clipboard. "Thought I might get a meal and a beer or two down at Buck's tonight."
"Gate closes at 2100," Bulldog said. "Make sure yer back."
"Yes sir," he said, feeling the effect of the Management formula that he'd been slipped earlier in the day, making him eager to comply. "Won't be late, sir!"
A half-hour into his dinner, served at the end of the bar at Three-Finger Buck's, a cowboy in a brown hat and a belt with silver walked up and sat down next to him.
"Howdy, Colt," Buck said. "What'll it be?"
"I'll go for a double Turkey on the rocks with a glass a-water on the side, and a burger and some chips," he replied. "And get this spiffy-lookin' cadet another one a-them longnecks he's drinkin', and stick it on my bill."
He turned to the cadet and stuck out his hand.
"Name's Colton Bates but everyone calls me Colt 'cause I'm hung like one," he said with a laugh, taking off his hat for a second and using a kerchief to wipe his brow. "Wife lets me out of purgatory once a week to come down here and loosen up."
Smithson had seen him walk through the bar before he sat down, and had already sized him up: More than 6 feet tall, wide shoulders, lean. A real cowboy, still in his chaps and boots and spurs, jeans dusty. Closer up, he had dark hair, a handsome face, brown eyes, a deep Texas twang, and a friendly smile and manner.
"I'm Jim Smithson, sir," he replied. "Thank you for the beer, sir. If I had to guess, I would say that I am a cadet at the Clinton Military and Police Academy and you are a cowboy on one of the ranches around here, sir. Thanks again for the beer, sir."
"So what y'all doin' here on a Thursday?" the cowboy asked, as Buck set another beer in front of the cadet, taking his empty plate and beer bottle. "I understand most a-ya cadet fellas come out on the weekends to make noise."
"Yes sir, most times we do, but sometimes I like to come during the week because it's quiet enough to have a conversation, sir," Jimmy replied.
The cowboy smiled and looked him in the eye.
"Ya prolly got told that I like to have a cadet swing on my stiff dick and that I also like screwin' 'em," the cowboy said, softly. "Well, I don't want ya worryin' none. I don't screw on the first date. And I don't trade off, so don't ya go thinkin' I'm gonna do for ya what ya like to do fer me. Got it?"
"Yes sir," Smithson replied. "No need to worry about me, sir."
Their terms settled, they chatted aimlessly for a while about the academy and about the cowboy's life at the Bar-A Ranch outside of town.
"I'm a wrangler out there and jack-of-all-trades," he said with a laugh. "There ain't a horse or a tractor or a well pump or a car or a truck or a motorcycle I can't fix 'n then ride."
The cadet was mesmerized by the handsome cowboy who didn't want to beam him up, and when he had drunk half his beer the cowboy spoke.
"I want ya to stroll over to the bathroom and get rid a-the beer ya drunk," he said softly. "Want to get a good look at ya."
"Yes sir," he replied, moving off the bar stool and walking toward the other end. Colt motioned to Buck, who walked over.
"Room 2," he said. "I'll pay ya when I get back down, prolly in a couple hours."
Buck reached in his pocket and handed him the key.
"Ya know ya can't leave together," he said, "and don't be makin' no noise up there."
The cowboy smiled.
"Now Buck, when was the last time I did either a-them things with either a hooker or a queer?" he said. "I know yer rules. By the way, as soon as he finishes that beer bring him another one on me. That'll keep him down here long enough. And bring me a single shot a-Turkey while yer at it."
The bar owner didn't really take to queer trade, but Colt had always been careful and the sheriffs deputies had told him to allow it at times. Buck was aware that Room 2 was wired for spying, and he couldn't exactly be picky when he was running a whorehouse and serving alcohol to the cadets from the academy.
"Comin' right up on the Turkey, and I'll hold off on the beer 'til he's done with what he's got," he said. "Have yerselves yer fun, then."
"Lookin' good 'n slick there, little feller," the cowboy said with a grin when the cadet returned. "That suit fits ya real dang nice."
"Thanks, sir!" Jimmy replied, as the handsome wrangler added the extra shot to his glass of bourbon. The cowboy explained that he'd be leaving the bar after he finished his drink, and that he'd ordered another beer for the cadet.
"Yer to settle up when he brings yer beer, then take another 10 or 15 minutes drinkin' it," he said. "Then ya head out the door out back and go on up to room 2 and knock soft on the door three times. Then I'll let ya in and we can get to know each other a little better. Ya got that, buddy boy?"
"Yes sir," he replied quietly. The cowboy glanced around the bar to see that no one was looking, then smiled with a subtle wink and quickly rubbed the cadet's back between the shoulder blades. Jimmy leaned backward a bit and gave a brief sigh, then Colt gave him a fatherly squeeze between his neck and one of his shoulders. A minute later, Buck appeared with the third beer.
"Stick that one on my bill and I'll settle up next time," he said, rising from his stool.
"Okey-doke, Colt, I know yer good fer it," Buck replied. "Young fella, yers is a buck and a quarter, and ya can pay anytime before ya leave."
"Real good meetin' ya there, Jimmy," the cowboy said to the cadet as Buck watched. "Maybe run into ya another time."
"Thanks for the beers, sir!" Smithson replied.
Colt had taken his cowboy hat off, but answered the door in his chaps and boots that added another inch and a half height difference. The top of the short cadet's head came an inch short of the cowboy's collar, and his eye level was in the middle of his chest.
An involuntary look of alarm registered on the cadet's face, and the cowboy chuckled.
"Come on in," he said, gently. "I promise this cowboy don't bite."
Jimmy stepped into the room, and after Colt closed the door he looked up.
"You're the tallest cowboy I've ever seen!" he exclaimed. "How tall are you, sir?"
"Six foot five in my boots," he answered, smiling. "Y'all look like ya could either be a bareback rider or a jockey. Little fellas are good at those."
"I'm only 5 foot 6," the cadet replied morosely, "and I never hear the end of it."
"Well it ain't any kinda problem here," the cowboy said warmly, adding the same back rub and squeeze he'd given in the bar, but longer and tighter this time. "Other way around, in fact."
Jimmy Smithson was lean but muscular, owing to his having been raised on a Texas ranch like many of the cadets. His fresh face didn't need a shave every day, and combined with his trim build he seemed younger than he was. It undermined his status at the academy, especially with his taller, powerfully built roommates.
Colt sensed the cadet's uneasiness, and guided him to a low-slung couch on one of the room's walls, not far from a double bed. He had lit the oil lamps on the end tables on each side of the bed, and turned on the lamp – and the hidden movie cameras and microphones.
He massaged the cadet's back like he'd done before, and ran his knuckles gently across his neck.
"When ya got to be back?" he asked.
"They lock the gate at 2100 ... um, 9 o'clock, sir," he replied. It's a-10 minute drive, so I really can't be here after 20:45 ... um, a quarter to 9."
The cowboy looked at his watch.
"It's 10 after 7," he said, putting his arm around the cadet's shoulder. "We got a good hour and half, so there ain't any kinda hurry. Now don't ya worry. I'm tellin' ya, this cowboy don't bite, and ya ain't got to do nothin' ya don't want to do. Honest."
"Thanks, sir," he said. "I'm a little nervous. I've never been here before, and I just met you. The guy who told me about you said you were a really nice guy."
"I try to be," Colt replied with a smile, drawing Jimmy closer. "Ya ain't been with any fellas, then?"
"A couple times in high school and once last summer at a rodeo, sir," he replied. "My step-dad would let me look at him but that's all. He said as long as I didn't do anything queer I'd grow out of it."
"Lotta good that did," the cowboy said with a chuckle. "So ya stayed queer and ya wanted to do more, huh? How about at that dang school? All ya do is look at 'em?"
The cadet found the smell of the cowboy's dried sweat even more intoxicating than the beer, and fought off an urge to jam his face into Colt's armpit. He'd been taunted so much by his roommates that he was still hesitant, but the cowboy's charm was melting his armor.
"Yeah, I guess I stayed queer, sir," Jimmy said. "I guess the guys I share quarters have figured it out, because they're always asking me to suck their dicks. One of them is a cowboy like you, but if I ever did it then a bunch of people would find out. So I have to pretend to get mad at them."
"How do ya know?" Colt asked. "Maybe they'd want to keep a little fella like you all to themselves."
"If I thought they would, maybe it'd be different, sir," he said. "If those guys were nice to me and wouldn't tell, I'd do it, especially with the cowboy. He's real good looking like you are, sir. The other guy is too, but he's pretty mean and I'm afraid of him."
"So ya get queer for us cowboys, do ya?" Colt said, looking straight into the cadet's face with a seductive smile. He stood up, turned around, and planted his feet wide, and hooked his thumbs into his belt. The thin leather strap holding his
chaps together ran just above the large and growing lump in his Wranglers.
"Nobody here but just us two," he said, towering over the seated cadet. "I swear this cowboy don't bite, 'least as long as you don't. No need to be afraid a-me, little feller."
The awestruck cadet reached up.
"So you wanna feel what I got?" Colt said, smiling downward. "Go right on ahead, then."
Jimmy felt along the lump that extended sideways in the Man's Wranglers, and the cowboy reached down and guided it along.
"Give 'er a good ol' squeeze, little fella," he said. "Think y'all gonna want that in that mouth a-yers?"
"Yes sir!" he answered, breathless.
"Then get outta them clothes first," Colt said. "Take off everything but yer shorts n yer T-shirt. It's how I like it."
As the cadet moved to comply, the cowboy unbuckled his chaps and laid them on the couch, and laid down on the bed, his shoulders and head resting up on the pillows he had gathered.
"Put yer clothes over there and take off my boots for me, and make sure to watch out for the spurs 'cause I sharpened 'em last week. Then come on over and lay beside me."
"My socks too, sir?"
"Dang right. Then get on over here and pull my boots off, ya little rascal."
There was something about removing even his socks that made him feel especially subordinate next to the cowboy, a sense multiplied by taking off the Man's dusty boots. Everything about him was masculine, and submitting to his petty commands felt erotic. Resting in his armpit, smelling the Man's smells, he wrapped his legs around Cody's while the cowboy ran a free hand around his backside and spoke gently.
"I can feel that stiff little dog a-yers rubbin' my leg," the cowboy said.
"They give me a hard time 'cause it's so small. Barely four inches, sir," he said. "Truth is I wish it was smaller like when I was little and my step-dad was so big."
The cowboy guided the cadet's hand downward to his erection and spoke.
"Think ya might wanna take care a-somethin' there, little fella?" he said. "No need to be growed up with me."
"Yes sir!" he said.
"Then why don't y'all get on down there and give it a try."
Jimmy jumped at the command, and undid the cowboy's jeans and reached inside. The cowboy's dick was long and thick, and stood straight up. The cadet licked the pre-cum from the cut head and put the shaft down his throat and sucked.
"Use yer hand to help me along, why don't ya, and swallow whatever squirts on outta there."
Afterwards, they laid back on the bed and talked some more. Colt coaxed the cadet into discussing his roommates, and Smithson blamed himself for getting off on the wrong foot with them. If he had it to do over again, he'd have not been insulted by their joshing over his build and size.
"Well, it happens with regular guys just like with ya queers," the cowboy said. "A fella gets interested but it comes out wrong with the girl 'cause he's afraid she's gonna laugh at him. Ya were afraid they'd tell on ya."
Jimmy agreed with that, but it was different, he said.
"They talked like they hated queers, sir" he said. "If they didn't kill me for it, I figured they'll tell other people who might, or tell the Commandant and get me expelled."
"Yeah, I hear ya," the cowboy said. "Just as much their fault, really. Sometimes I don't understand it. I'm glad there's queers myself. My wife won't suck my dick, and the one time I told her I wanted to screw her ass, she said she'd shoot me. So like I say, I'm glad there's queers like y'all."
By the time he was out of high school, his step-dad had figured he was a queer and warned him of the consequences, the cadet replied. There were Men who'd let him do what he wanted and then kill him for it, and they'd be beyond the law.
"Yep, he's right about that, and it's why them parks are a risk fer you fellers," the cowboy replied. "I do gotta say that some a-the queers bring it on themselves. Start makin' demands, and maybe get pissed off and call the guy whose dick they sucked just as queer as they are. Truth is, no Man's a queer for lettin' ya take his dick. If ya call him one, or let on about what ya do for 'em, yer takin' yer life in yer hands there."
The cowboy looked at his watch.
"Anyway, it's gettin' on," he said, rising from the bed and buttoning his jeans, then putting his boots back on. "Ya oughtta get dressed there. Ya got maybe half an hour left."
The cadet got up and put his uniform back on.
"Dang, yer lookin' slick in that suit a-yers," the cowboy said gently, smiling and rubbing the cadet's lower back and then his backside. "I wouldn't mind gettin' up in there if we was to get together again."
"I've never done that, sir," he replied.
"Well, ya don't got to nothin' ya don't want to do with me," Colt said. "But if ya want it, I'm real dang good at it. I got some slick with a muscle relaxer in it. It'll go easy."
He walked over to the dresser drawer and handed Smithson an enema and a tube of lubricant and explained how to use it in the afternoon before a meeting in the evening. He'd be at the bar at 6 o'clock next Thursday. If the cadet decided he didn't want to be screwed, he'd understand, and if he didn't show up at all he'd get the message.
"Anyway, have a seat over next to my chaps," Colt said, smiling. "Ya didn't think I was gonna let ya outta here after just one squirt, did ya little fella?"