Yarn of the Stockman

by Rodder52

 

I guess I’m the only one knows the full story. Everybody thinks they know something but what they really know is just one thing – that the official story about it being a hunting accident was all bullshit. There was a total of four shots fired on that trip -it was no accident.

     You should also know that each of them had a gun. Curly had a vintage service pistol – a Webley. Luke always carried a three ought three sport in a saddle scabbard; and Ray kept a Colt .45.

     I heard all the versions of what happened and, while they weren’t the same, I got a real good picture of how it was.

     First off – the old man made a big mistake sending young Luke out with those two guys. Sure the kid was nineteen but he wasn’t what you’d call a mature nineteen. He was a nice kid but he threw to his mumma. He was kinda soft and well, I guess – ladylike. He could ride and shoot and fix the truck and everything just fine. But he did it more like a tomboy woman than a man’s man. He liked poetry and he had that long blonde hair all soft and curly. Long hair for men was a new idea then. Some guys let it grow long and scruffy just from being in the bush and all but the kid washed it every day and brushed it with a brush. People on a cattle station notice that stuff.

     I don’t know whether the old man was blind to it or if he thought he’d found a way to sort young Luke out. The old man was like that. He’d just as like bust something as fix it.

     “This is tough country,” he’d say. “If it can’t handle it, best we find out early.”

     I’ve heard him say that about bore-pumps, diesel trucks, horses – I wasn’t there at the time but I figure the kid’s mumma went the same way – just rode hard till she couldn’t take it no more.

     The kid was just like her – a calm, quiet personality, kinda curvy in the hip and fine featured in the face. He had the same kind of inner strength too. Maybe it was an insult to a big old buck like the old man that his kid carried so little of him. I guess you can’t really say.

     So the old man gets the bright idea to send young Luke off to Captain Jacky Creek with Curly Johnson and Ray Stanton.

     Now nobody I know can find a bad word for Curly. That’s an upright man if there ever was one. He’d been a friend and mentor for young Luke ever since the kid hit teenage. It was Curly taught him to shoot. He taught him to ride. He took him fishing and to rodeo. It was Curly was there for him when his Mumma run off. When the old man looked at him with that disgusted look, Curly was there to take him hunting. That kid loved Curly.

     They had their own language - a million little signals. Anytime Luke was uncertain, he’d look around to find Curly’s eye and there’d be a nod or wave or a tilt of the head and he’d be all right. If you had to send the kid to hell, Curly’s the man you’d want to go with him.

     But Ray Stanton? You’d just as soon set a rabbit to guard a lettuce.

     Now, I found Ray a real likeable guy – just about as charming as a rat with a gold tooth. But he had demons in him that just got out of control. One time after muster Ray went into Normanton with his paycheck and they say he fucked every barmaid in the town – and there was six pubs there at that time.

     Not satisfied with that, he started a game of stockman’s pool with some of the young ringers from Belmore Downs, won it, and organised a big daisy chain as his prize. Ray in the middle just as drunk and rowdy and corrupt as a man can be.

     Stockman’s pool, if you don’t know, is a game played by frustrated ringers out west when the nights get long. A bunch of men (I’ve been in a game of twenty) get their gear off and hunker down in a circle, knee to knee. Every man’s dick has to be on the slack – no head starts. At the get-go you start to jack off – first man to shoot, wins. Rules vary but you can generally jostle the other guys or tickle their arse with your free hand to put them off their stroke, Winner gets to make the losers do his bidding.

     That’s how Ray was - after shagging all night his idea of fun was to get himself in the middle of a daisy chain of sweaty, naked young men.

     Everybody knew about Ray. If it was warm and there was a way to make it slippery, Ray would fuck it. Everybody knew that. I’m nigh on sixty and he got me!

     Bent over the smithy’s forge trying to put some shape into a shoe and I felt this hand on the back of my neck.

     This voice says, “Don’t move or you’ll get burned.”

     My jeans are pulled down my legs and the next thing I know something red hot is tunnelling up my shithole – Ray Stanton’s cock. When he finished he wiped his dick on my shirt and said thanks. That’s the way he was. Tell you the truth, I didn’t mind. I was kinda flattered and, well, Ray had this way about him.

     But maybe that’s just me – I played a lot of stockman’s pool in my day.

     Whatever the old man was thinking, he couldn’t plead ignorance when he got the bright idea to send young Luke off to Captain Jacky Creek with Curly Johnson and Ray Stanton. At Captain Jacky they were to meet the barge, pick up six head of breeding stock and bring them on back to Northy Station. Simple.

     They’d be three days in the saddle and two nights on a blanket. No helicopters or trail bikes those days, there was a saddle horse each and a pack horse with stores. There were no frills – you better get to the boat on time or know how to live off the land.

     Way I heard it the first day went just fine. Curly kept a weather eye on big Ray and answered the thousand questions pouring out of Luke about the first campsite, trying to bag a scrub turkey for dinner, crocs in the Norman River – the kid was excited. Big Ray just rode along quiet as you like.

     Sometime in the afternoon Luke noticed something curious that Ray was doing. They were riding alongside a dry creekbed and every now and then Ray would reach into his saddlebag for something he would then scatter on the soil at the edge of the creek. Ray said nothing, just repeated the action every couple of hundred yards. Luke was fascinated. Curly didn’t miss a thing. He made sure to keep himself between the two. Luke’s curiosity got the better of him.

     “What you doing Ray?”

     Ray took a good long time about answering just to tickle Luke’s interest then he spoke low so the young man had to crane his neck to hear.

     “Well suppose on a stinkin’ hot day like this you’re out here and you’d like to get your teeth into a nice sweet ripe peach. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

     Luke reined up his horse to drop back then heeled up beside Ray so he could hear him properly. Curly was as alert as a man can be but what’s he going to do?

     “Sure would,” says Luke.

     “Well if you want something nice like that you gotta plant a seed. Don’t plant a seed – nothing will grow. Ain’t that right Curly?”

     “It’s true Luke,” says Curly. “A lot of bushmen will scatter seeds in fertile ground when they’re on the track. The seed just sits there waiting for the wet season and then, come next year when you come this way again, you might find a crop of watermelon or pumpkins. It’s good bush skills. Won’t get no peaches in this country though. ”

     “Well you can try,” says Ray.

     I guess about now Curly was good and comfortable about young Luke. Curly knew he had his respect. The young man reined his horse back to Curly’s side and they settled into a comfortable silence. Even Ray seemed to be on his best behaviour. He didn’t even mention that the seeds were marijuana.

     Yarn spinning is an old stockman’s tradition. You stoke up the campfire, trickle a bit of rum into your tea, settle into your blanket and start telling stories. That first night Curly went first because he wanted to keep the subject safe. He told a yarn about the time in Mount Isa when he saw a stage play about knucklemen in the old mining days.

     Luke told about how he’d like to see a stage concert by a guy named Cat who was a bit of a poet and sung a song about a Father and Son that didn’t get on. Then it was Ray’s turn.

     “When I was in Fanny Bay jail,” Ray started.

     “This is supposed to be about the stage or theatre or something like,” says Curly.

     “Yeah Yeah,” says Ray. “You blokes ever heard of pantomime? Well when I was in clink we bunged on this pantomime called Sinderella. Cinderella with an ‘S’. You know there’s no women in Greystone Villa so the girl’s parts gotta be played by – you know – good looking young men.”

     “That’s not the kind of yarn we want,” says Curly.

     “What’s the problem?” says Ray. “It’s just about our play.”

     “I know those pantomimes. They’re all about smut and dirty talk. We don’t want that do we Luke?”

     “Not really,” says Luke.

     “All right, I won’t tell about that,” says Ray. “I’ll tell about my cellmate who played Sinderella.”

     “OK,” says Curly. “But I’m watching you.”

     “He was a nice young bloke - about your age Luke. Don’t know what he was in for – nothing much. Anyway he gets to play the Cinderella part and she’s gotta get dolled up in this gown for the ball right? So this screw goes down to a hire place in Darwin and gets this ball gown for him. He not only gets the gown, he gets silk undies and a bra and fishnet stockings. Talk about funny. This young fullah felt like such an idiot with everybody making cracks at him, he wouldn’t do the practice run.”

     “So that night in the cell I told him I’d rehearse him but only if he wore the undies.”

     “All right! That’s enough!” said Curly.

     “No – no,” says Ray. “Nothing dirty. It’s about the funny thing that happened when that kid put those clothes on. He liked it ay?”

     He was famous for being a charming bugger that old Ray. He had those other two right in the palm of his hand. Even Curly wanted to know what he was going to say next.

     “Yeah,” says Ray. “It was like those bra and panties and stockings were magic. Soon as he got them on and all smooth and snug and tight on him, all of a sudden he’s acting like a real girl. His voice was higher and he was walking different. It was after lights-out and there was just the light of the moon in the cell. And there’s me with this sweet young man dressed as a woman …”

     “What happened,” says Luke.

     “I fucked him all night long,” says Ray and burst out laughing

     That caught Curly on the hop. “ I stuck my tongue in his mouth and rode my cock in him until he creamed,” shouts Ray.

     Curly tried to shut him up but Rays laughing like a maniac and saying the craziest things he can put his mind to. “I licked his bumhole and made him suck my dick. And I kissed his tits and..”

     Bang! That’s when Curly fired a shot into the fire. Big Ray was cackling and shouting obscenities into the night like a madman. Luke was sitting wide-eyed not believing his ears. And Curly fired two more rounds into the fire.

     Ray went quiet. Curly took the old Webley pistol and put the muzzle right under Ray’s eye. “You pull a stunt like that again and I swear I’ll shoot you like a dog,” says Curly. “The rest of this ride, you say nothing and you keep your distance from Luke and me - you got it?”

     Luke lay in his blanket just out of the range of the firelight and said nothing.

     Well you’d think that might be it. Curly loved the kid and Ray knew he wasn’t just bumping his gums when he made that threat. Curly was a serious man.

     All next day it looked like he had control. Ray strayed back some behind them while they rode and those two didn’t have a lot to say either. An hour or so before sundown they reached Budu Falls. They were two days on a dusty track and a swim was just too tempting. Curly told Ray to tend the horses while he and Luke had a clean-up, then Ray could have his turn.

     Ray stood lean and hungry as a wolf as he watched the two naked men in the water. Curly had put his revolver close by the side of the stream and warned Ray to stay right back but there was no way to stop him watching; and there was no way to stop the spirited teenager from executing a series of duck-dives across the pool. Who could fail to see the shining white skin of his back all pearled with water? His long blonde hair slicked into a ponytail? And then the two perfect globes of his arse as he dived? Then the smooth backs of his thighs with the pink tight balls tucked between? Again and again?

     Ray let out a long, loud, anguished, animal howl. Luke told me they’d never heard anything like it in their life. The wildest blood-chilling scream of frustrated lust ever burst out of beast or man. Next thing Ray was on his horse and gone.

     They passed a nervous night with worrying Ray might come back and Curly made Luke sleep right close so he could keep a hand on him and make him safe.

     “Don’t you worry Luke,” he said. “I won’t let him anywhere near you.”

     The young man just moved under his hand and said nothing.

     Come dawn and there was no sign of any trouble but Curly had a plan.

     “Luke,” he said. “I’m going to ride on ahead and find out what Ray’s up to. You just come along easy. You’ll be fine.”

     “What if he comes back?”

     “If he comes back he’ll have to go through me.”

     Luke watched him go, checked the mag on his rifle before he cleaned up the camp and poured the last of the billy on the fire. He heard the splashing of Budu Falls and decided on one last swim before riding on.

     He was naked and coming back up the bank when he heard the slide on Ray’s pistol.

     “Just keep coming Luke. My, my - you look so beautiful this morning. Didn’t you know I’d come back for you?”

     Ray held the Colt in his left hand while he undid his belt buckle with the right. He pushed his trousers down and set his big cock bouncing free in the morning sunshine. “Yes baby, it’s all for you. I’m going to take you to a world you never dreamed of. It starts with you coming over here and touching my balls.”

     Luke sneaked a quick look at the camp. The rifle was lying across the saddle on the ground where he’d left it. Ray was standing right by it – there was no safe way.

     “Come on Honey. I’m going to teach you how to suck cock.”

     Luke was aware of the weight and bounce of his own dick as he walked forward. A rush of fear coursed through him as he realised that every move he made was inflaming the searing lust in the older man's loins. He remembered the power of that scream and all the energy rushed out of him. He dropped to his knees at the feet of the big man.

     “Just the balls Baby. Don’t touch the cock too early. We want to make this last.”

     Luke raised his hand and for the first time felt the hot, smooth, compelling heft of a grown man’s balls. He smelt the musky aroma wafting in heat waves from the terrifying stiff cock. His head swam and he was faint with submission to the awesome power of Ray’s sex.

     That’s when they both heard the hammer click of the Webley.

     “You dumb son-of-a-bitch,” Curly said. “Did you really think I’d fall for that? Get his gun Luke.”

     Luke took the pistol from the big man’s hand. The big cock hovering right in front of his face expressed a big opalescent drop from its slit.

     “I warned you Ray. I warned you. But did you listen?”

     A flock of cockatoos screeched into the branches of the ghost gums by the creek. The horses kicked impatiently at the ground.

     “Gotta shoot you now Ray. Gotta do it.”

     The waterfall splashed loud into the water below.

     "There's no way I'm gonna let you get your filthy hands on this kid."

     The sound of the gunshot was a rude shock in the quiet landscape. The hobbled horses broke and lunged away. The cockatoos fled in panic from the trees. Ray flinched back in shock.

     And Curly?

     Curly fell dead to the ground with a 45 bullet between his eyes.

     There was Luke still on his knees with a plume of blue smoke drifting up from the muzzle of the gun he held in one hand. He had Ray's big cock in the other. His dick was hard and his nipples erect.

     ‘You were a good man Curly,” he said. “But you should never interrupt lovers in their private moments. That’s just bad manners.”

     He looked up through his eyelashes at Ray. “Now tell me again what it was you wanted me to do,” he said.

     Well that’s the story. I might have a few of the details wrong but I’m pretty sure that’s how it was. I asked Luke about it but of course he wouldn’t cough. He did say one thing. It was this:

     “That Ray Stanton – whatever other failings he might have had - he was a man who really knew how to plant a seed.”

 

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