Tales of the Wild West #3

 A prairie town in Utah Territory circa 1880. Six outlaws have killed the sheriff and his deputies and for weeks have been terrorising the townsfolk and indulging their pleasures at will. Ever since sheriff Hayes was gunned down inside the saloon the townsfolk have been planning a way to rid themselves of these outlaws. If one or two were to be killed the remaining outlaws would wreak a terrible revenge, so it’s got to be all or none that are to be delivered citizens’ justice. This day at high noon, after weeks of watching their every move, those plans are about to be put into action… 

Outlaw Jim Coffey 22 - wanted dead…

The outlaw Jim Coffey is soaking in a steel bathtub in his hotel room when his door is suddenly kicked in by two burly townsfolk. When they start shooting Jim rapidly exits the tub causing it to tip up and shield him from a volley of bullets. He stretches out from its cover to grab his revolver but is hit in his right side, the bullet passing straight through his oblique muscle. When his assassins see he now has his gun they step back into the cover of the hall. Clutching at his bleeding side Jim grabs this opportunity and makes for the open first floor window and throws his wet naked form through it to land on a lower shingled roof. As shots are again fired at him from the window he jumps to the ground making for cover and disappearing under the adjacent general store foundation. Bleeding and in pain Jim makes his way through the low elevated foundations by crawling on his belly like a snake. He can hear his pursuers say, “He’s wounded and can’t git far!” and “A wounded animal is more dangerous so shoot the varmint on sight!”

The wounded naked outlaw knows where he should be making for but thinks his chances of making it there are slim…

Outlaw Buck Cooper 19 - wanted dead…

The cocky outlaw has just left the saloon through the back door. He wears an open short brown leather waistcoat, which shows off his sinewy youthful physique, and western jeans with his gun strung low. There is a damp patch formed over the bulge in his jeans caused by his cock still oozing from his latest conquest with two of the saloon’s scarlet ladies; yet the handsome Buck is equally as popular with the guys.

From behind him Buck hears the unmistakable click of a single action revolver being cocked… “Git yer hands in the air son or I’ll shoot yer in the back!” Buck’s instincts are to go for his gun but then he hears a younger voice… “Let me shoot him in the belly pa!” and he now knows that two guns are levelled at him. Buck slowly raises his hands causing his midriff to be fully exposed as a hand reaches around to remove his gun from its holster. Buck turns to see a gangly youth levelling his own pistol at his belly and his pa doing likewise. Buck says,“You’re dead men! my gang’s gonna kill ya and half the town for this.” The youth says, “He don’t know pa…can I kill him in the belly?” His pa replies, “Ya knows we gotta wait boy!” “But can I do it then pa?…I’m a aching to do it!” A damp patch now starts to show on the youth’s crotch as he explores Buck’s deep belly button with the revolver’s barrel. 

Just then shots are heard elsewhere and the youth looks at his pa who simply nods. The youth rubs Buck’s naked belly saying, “That tight belly meat ain’t gonna stop hot lead from burning yer guts!” The youth’s blue eyes fixes Buck’s green eyes as the revolver is fired, point blank, into Buck’s stretched navel. The force doubles him up as he is flung to the ground. Buck rolls onto his back and starts writhing, his whole body convulsing as he arches his exposed torso upwards off the ground, stabbing at his belly wound with his fingers. The youth says, “Hey pa, he’s gonna burst outta his jeans!” as he notices Buck’s bulge getting larger and then… “He’s done creamed his jeans now pa!” the youth says, hiding his own crotch from his father’s gaze. When Buck is still the two take hold of a leg and drag his lithe body away with his waistcoat trailing backwards under his head.

Outlaw Frank Miller 27 - wanted dead…

Axel, the 18 year old stable boy has routinely been the victim of sexual assault by the outlaw Frank. This day though Axel is making sure that Frank won’t be able to resist the lure of his youthful body…

Frank has made his way over to the stables and peers through the door. There he sees Axel wearing only leather chaps but otherwise naked with a bare ass and his manhood on display. Axel is busy grooming a stallion, his sweat making his skin glisten from the sunlight through the open stable door. Frank can hardly constrain himself but then, as Axel starts to clean smegma from the stallion’s sheath, Frank starts to touch his own hard cock. He then quickly strips off his clothes and takes his knife to sneak up on Axel.

From behind Axel Frank says, “l’m a hankering for some of that action boy!” As Axel turns towards him Frank holds his knife over Axel’s glistening abs, “Don’t go getting any ideas about trying to stop me cos I’ll gut yer good!” Frank uses the knife’s blade to slowly outline Axel’s abdominals and pauses at his navel, probing it with the blade’s tip; this causes Axel to suck his belly away from the knife. “Well stable boy, this stallion needs yer attention now!” Axel holds out his hand and grabs onto Frank’s manhood causing Frank to relax his knife hand away from Axel’s belly. Axel gets down on his knees in front of Frank but then uses his other hand to recover a hidden curved paring knife from under the straw. Then Axel pulls Frank by his cock forcibly towards him and, at the same time, hooks the sharp curved blade deep into Frank’s navel and pulls it downwards ripping open his naked belly to the base of his cock. As Frank is instantly eviscerated he looks down in shock at the sight of his entrails sliding out over his still erect cock. He falls to his knees in front of Axel, his mouth moving as if to speak but only managing a gurgling noise before he slumps, dead, into his own guts.

Axel goes over to the forge and takes from it a red hot branding iron with the capital letter ‘A’ formed on it. He then uses his foot to turn Frank onto his side and, with a steaming sizzle, brands his rump with the ‘A’ and says, “I own your ass now Frank!”

Outlaw Quinn Cartwright 28 - wanted dead…

Quinn is in room 6 of the saloon with two young guys. He is on the bed lying atop one guy rubbing his hard cock rhythmically against his while the other guy is behind him. As their thrusting becomes more intense the other guy puts a strap around Quinn’s neck and starts pulling it which chokes him. At first he thinks this is just an exciting fetish and allows it. But as Quinn starts to cum he is suddenly jolted backwards by the strap causing his belly to arch up off the guy. Then the guy below Quinn pulls a knife out from under the sheets and, while Quinn’s seed shoots forth, stabs upwards…once, twice, three times into his stretched taught belly while the other garrottes him with the strap.

Outlaws Virgil Williams 24 & Gil Donovan 19 - wanted dead…

Virgil and Gil are hard at it with guy on guy action in the back of a covered wagon. Suddenly they are aware that the canvass canopy of the wagon is on fire and both, grabbing their guns, jump naked and erect from the wagon. As soon as they do Virgil can see a number of armed townsfolk and raises his gun but before he can discharge his weapon two bullets sear into his guts. As Gil raises his gun multiple weapons start to be fired at the two outlaws which forces them into a macabre dance, like stringless marionettes, as bullets from all directions riddle their naked torsos. Even when they fall, dead, to the ground bullets continue to tear into them. Each now seemingly a few pounds heavier from all the lead embedded inside their carcasses they are dragged away leaving bloody trails in the dirt.

Outlaw Jim Coffey 22 - wanted dead…

Against all the odds, by making his way under a number of buildings with shots and frantic activity going on all around him, Jim makes it to his destination…the stables of the town’s corral.

There he sees the pile of bloody entrails from the recently removed Frank and his fear of meeting the same fate overwhelms him as he hides, cowering, under a pile of straw. Soon he hears a familiar voice, “You here Jim?…Jim, it’s me Axel, I’m alone!” The outlaw Jim and the town’s stable boy, Axel, have secretly been having liaisons of a sexual nature. When the wounded outlaw breaks cover he holds his gun on Axel, not knowing if his lover has betrayed him. Axel softly says, “I’d never betray yer Jim…we had plans, remember, for us both to skip town and head for the new territories in the far west…Now quit yer madness an let me tend ya wound!” Jim nods and holds his gun away from Axel. Axel gives Jim a stick to bite down on saying, “This is gonna smart some but don’t cry out or we’re both done fer.” Axel gets a hot iron from the forge and cauterises the wound while Jim bites down hard against the intense pain. Axel fetches food, water and clothes for Jim and tells him to keep hidden until he returns…

The townsfolk have dragged the carcasses of five of the six outlaws into the middle of the dusty main street and line them up and just stare at them. They slowly take in each wound in their evil hides so they can believe they’ve finally got their town back and can now live without fear. But a number still need convincing and they are allowed to stab and defile the young men’s bodies until they’ve had their fill. Some demand to know the whereabouts of the sixth outlaw to which Mayor Taylor replies, “Don’t worry none, he’s wounded bad so we’ll track him down when his rotting carcass shows us where he is!”

Soon there are two departures from the town: 

To the west a mounted Axel leads a pack horse carrying a precious concealed cargo. 

A seemingly lone drifter, who’d been watching events from the saloon, mounts his horse and spurs it on, leaving the town perimeter to the north at a gallop. In the foothills overlooking the town he meets up with the rest of his gang…a gang just waiting for an opportunity such as this to take over. A gang now with the full knowledge of how not to make the same mistakes…To this end the outlaw spy hands his gang’s leader a kill list of the townsfolk who planned their bid for freedom from tyranny. 

 

Tales of the Wild West #2

 Arkansas Territory Circa 1800…Four 8 to 9 year old boys are playing cowboys and indians on settled farmland; Sawyer and Cody and brothers, Levi and Billy. They have already disobeyed their parents, who are busily tending to the livestock, by wandering inside nearby woodland. 

Cody and Billy are the indians and Sawyer and Levi the cowboys. They all have crudely carved wooden weapons including guns, knives, bows and arrows and tomahawks. The cowboys have pursued the indians into the woods and are calling out, “The only good injun is a dead injun…come and git it injuns!” Every now and then the indians would start whooping and making whoosh sounds for pretend arrows with the cowboys responding “Blam! Blam!” for gun fire.

Cody tells the younger Billy to run further into the woods where they hide in readiness to ambush the cowboys. After a short wait they both hear a rustling from behind. Thinking it is Sawyer and Levi they run, whooping, towards the noise with their wooden tomahawks raised. That is when they run straight into a scouting party of four Choctaw warriors who grab them before they can run away. Both boys are tightly held to prevent them getting free and from yelling out. Unaware, Sawyer and Levi are crawling through underbrush on their bellies towards where they think Cody and Billy are hiding but…suddenly… two real arrows bury themselves in the ground inches from the two boys. “SHIT!…how’d they git themselves real arrows?” Sawyer exclaims but then they see the Choctaw indians with the two boys struggling in their arms. All Sawyer and Levi can do now is run away and tell their parents who immediately organise an armed search for the two boys. However, despite further search parties and cavalry assistance no trace of the two boys was ever found. 

Forward 15 years… Sawyer is a fine figure of a man; a frontiersman, a trapper and a trader. Levi is a broken man having never gotten over the loss of his brother Billy and full of guilt for running away. He’s a drifter, a drunk and… indian killer! Having not seen each other for the last ten years fate has now placed them on the frontier between settled and unsettled territory… more commonly known as Indian country.

A Choctaw warrior is out in the wilderness teaching his 9 summers son to hunt deer. They wear only breechclouts and are stalking the deer with bows and arrows. The sound of a breaking twig causes the deer to bolt but the indian knows it was neither he or his son that was responsible. Before the father can react he hears another sound…the sound that his people have come to fear…the sound of a flintlock rifle being primed. The ball hits him just below his navel causing him to clutch at his belly and fall to his knees. He sees a lone figure coming out from behind a tree when an arrow, fired by his son, embeds itself in the tree next to the attacker. The attacker casually raises a flintlock pistol towards the boy and fires hitting the young native in the chest, killing him instantly. The father cries out in anguish and draws his knife slashing wildly from side to side but the pale skin attacker keeps his distance and starts laughing. Then the Choctaw drops his knife and pushes his chest out with arms outstretched as if pleading for the pale skin to finish him. Levi now steps closer to the indian and says, “You gut shot so why waste powder on yers!” Not caring the Choctaw couldn’t understand him Levi settles down against a nearby tree to witness the long and painful death of the indian.

After a gruelling hunt Sawyer and his friend, fellow trapper Pierre, have set up camp next to a river. Pierre is in his mid thirties and, like most frontiersmen, in good physical condition. After tending to the horses Sawyer starts to take his clothes off in readiness for a well deserved soak in the cooling waters. Pierre cautions, “Before we dip we must wear our knives and prime our weapons in case of indian attack mon ami!” Sawyer laughs and replies, “Ah, what would I do without my sensible friend. Very well but when we’re all done being sensible you strip down to yer hide… I’m done being down wind of ya!” “Oui mon ami!” replies a smiling Pierre.

However before the two, now naked, friends enter the water they hear a noise coming from their tent. They each draw their hunting knives from their waist belts and signal to split up, one to the front and the other to the rear of the tent. As Pierre pulls back the tent flap he sees a pair of legs disappearing under the rear of the tent. A naked Sawyer grabs the clothed figure and wrestles him into a pin hold. The very scruffy intruder still has hold of their bottle of whiskey taken from the tent. Then, Sawyer takes a long look at him and exclaims, “Levi!…is it you?! Why didn’t ya make yourself known old friend…Ya only had to ask for whiskey. I hardly recognised yer…ya look and smell like a raccoon’s ass! Before we reminisce over some vittles yer gonna bathe, clothes an all.” Pierre comes rushing to the rear of the tent with his knife at the ready but soon sees that Sawyer knows the intruder. Sawyer explains to Pierre and the two pick Levi up off the ground and haul him to the river to unceremoniously throw him in and dunk him a number of times before he is allowed to return to the river bank where he strips off his wet clothes while watching both Sawyer and Pierre enjoying dunking each other.

Just then there is a loud whooping as five loincloth clad Choctaw warriors get up off their bellies and break their cover to run at the unsuspecting trio. Each warrior wields a tomahawk, two enter the river cutting off Sawyer and Pierre from their firearms while the others make for an unarmed Levi. Levi just manages to run to where two primed flintlock pistols, dry powder, balls and a rifle were left in case of indian attack. Levi picks up the two pistols and fires one hitting a warrior in his left breast, halting his forward motion as he stiffens upright in a spasm of pain before falling down. Discharging the second pistol into the upper abdominals of another causing him to tumble to the ground. Levi sees the third Choctaw, tomahawk raised, bearing down on him as he struggles to load the flintlock rifle. But before he can remove the wooden ramrod the indian is too close so Levi fires… The Choctaw, his body stretched up in readiness to deliver a killing tomahawk blow, suddenly drops the tomahawk to clutch at the ramrod just blasted deep through his bellybutton. He falls back into the shallow river thrashing and clawing at the rod. Levi quickly grabs the fallen tomahawk and prepares to finish the warrior off but he pauses when he notices that not only blood is staining the water… He sees a coppery powder dissolving off the Choctaw’s body leaving a tanned but clearly paler skin. Looking closer at the pain filled face he sees blue eyes that are now starring back at him when the Choctaw, in sudden recognition, says, “Le…Levi…broth…brother…my brother… I’m dying Levi.” Levi is transfixed but soon says, “Billy…Billy…oh what have I done…BILLY! I’ll help yer brother, I’ll…AAARRRGGGHHH!” Just then a tomahawk wielded by an unseen sixth warrior is buried deep between his shoulder blades causing him to fall forwards onto his brother, his belly now also punctured by the rod like a wooden umbilical joining the two dying brothers.

Meanwhile, both Sawyer and Pierre have drawn their knives to take on the two warriors in the river. First contact is with Pierre who tries to stop the tomahawk descending into him but the momentum of the warrior overwhelms him as the tomahawk is buried deep into his right breast. But before the warrior can pull it out to strike again Pierre thrusts his knife into the lower belly of the indian and before death takes him Pierre agitates the blade deep into the warrior’s guts before they both collapse into the water. The other warrior attempts to cleave his tomahawk into Sawyer’s head but Sawyer is as strong as his enemy and just manages to hold off the indian’s hatchet arm. But before the warrior can hold off Sawyer’s knife it enters and splits his outie navel continuing its motion through his abdominals and into his intestines. The warrior has a look of pained surprise as Sawyer pulls his blade out and stabs again into his stomach and again into the lower abdominals… With blood gushing from these wounds the warrior doubles over to float face down in the water. 

After killing this warrior Sawyer sees the Choctaw burying the tomahawk into Levi’s back. This Choctaw is powerfully built and soon sees Sawyer holding a knife at him. The warrior discards his tomahawk and pulls his own knife and runs through the water towards Sawyer. As he does Sawyer notices the water washing away the appearance of the indian to reveal… a white man. Sawyer instinctively feels that this is either Billy or Cody and says, “Billy…Cody it’s me ya old friend Sawyer!” On hearing this the Choctaw, Pale Wolf, stops in the water and carefully studies Sawyer before saying, “I no longer Co_dee…I Pale Wolf now…I Choctaw…you Saw_yer enemy of Choctaw and will die at Pale Wolf’s hand. Before Sawyer can answer Pale Wolf springs forward, his almost naked body glistening as it slaps against Sawyer’s wet nakedness… They slide against each other, each holding off their adversary’s knife. Their momentum takes them into deeper water and they soon find themselves underwater, locked in a deadly embrace. Although Pale Wolf is stronger, Sawyer is more used to swimming and soon manoeuvres himself to deliver a stab to Pale Wolf’s left side… Sawyer feels him jerk and a warmth flowing over his knife hand as he sees a billowing of blood in the water. Even though their lungs are bursting for air Sawyer knows that Pale Wolf is still a danger to him and is about to stab him again when Pale Wolf manages to free his knife hand from Sawyer’s defensive grip… Before Sawyer can react he feels a burning deep in his guts coming in hard spasms and his vision can only see a crimson bloom surrounding him…a billowing of his own blood. Pale Wolf has stabbed him three times in the lower belly and is now slicing open his abdominal muscles to the navel until not just blood but entrails ooze out into the water and Sawyer releases his knife and becomes still in the water.

The wounded Choctaw warrior, Pale Wolf, hauls himself from the water, the lone survivor of this skirmish of loyalty and family.

Tales of the Wild West #1

 MISSOURI summer 1850…. Jake a cocky 22 year old cowboy is riding the range looking for straying cattle with two other cowhands, Jesse, at 47 and Pete the 18 year old son of the ranch owner. Jake likes riding shirtless feeling the warm breeze on his lean body. Jesse hollers over to him,“If you get a burned hide I ain’t gonna be the one rubbing horse liniment on ya agin… you hear me boy?” Pete laughs at this and, taking off his own shirt, starts swirling it around his head calling out, “Yeehah! Yeehah!” Jesse shakes his head saying,“Dang fools, it ain’t my job to nursemaid ya. Just don’t expect Jesse to sooth yer red hides while ya whimpering away… I ain’t ya pa!”

Just then…. a whoosh and thud is followed by a yell from Jesse as he falls from his horse with an arrow buried deep between his ribs. Jake shouts over at Pete,“RIDE FOR YOUR LIFE BOY!” The two spur their mounts into a gallop away from the direction of the arrow and Jake looks behind to see if they’re being pursued by any indians. But just as he does he is aware that Pete’s mount has stumbled and thrown Pete to the ground where he rolls to a halt laying face down and still. Jake makes a sharp turn and halts his mount near to the fallen Pete. Dismounting he draws his pistol and, looking all about, starts shaking Pete’s shoulder saying, “Get up boy we need to move out fast!” Pete starts to groan and rolls over shaking his head saying,“Wha…what….being attacked… indians…. Jesse?!” As the boy comes around he looks up at Jake,“What you looking at Jake?”  Pete notices Jake peering over at the stumbled horse and then sees what Jake is looking at…Pete’s horse has an arrow buried deep in its hindquarter. Then they both hear the whooping of indians approaching and look to see a band of ten loincloth clad Shawnee on coloured ponies bearing down on them. Jake knows they couldn’t outrun them with two on his mount so he grabs his rifle and signals to Pete to run for the cover of nearby rocks.

On reaching the rocky outcrop they get down on their naked bellies and Jake takes careful aim with his Winchester rifle…he shoots and one of the pursuing braves is struck in the chest, the bullet’s impact flipping him backwards from his pony. This causes the others to split up and circle the outcrop, shooting arrows from horseback towards the cowhands’ position. Arrows ricochet off the rocks too close for comfort so Jake risks levelling his rifle again and fires…another brave is hit in his side and his back explodes in a red mist from the exit wound. The other eight braves then quickly dismount to take cover nearby and start up a continuing whooping. Pete says, “What we gonna do Jake, we’re surrounded by injuns and lost our horses?”Jake replies, “Stay calm boy…your pa will soon send a search party out for us. Now keep your pistol at the ready in case these savages rush us.” 

Nightfall approaches bringing with it a nearly full Moon while the remaining Shawnee continue to whoop from any and every direction causing the half naked cowpokes’ nerves to be on edge. Pete whispers, “Can you hear something else Jake?” He replies, “There’s something out there right enough… keep your eyes peeled and git your knife ready.” The two scan the surrounding rocks until…Pete squeezes Jake’s arm and gestures towards something. Jake starts to make out a form, slithering snake like over the boulders towards them…every now and then the moonlight glistens off tensing muscled skin revealing the sinewy form of an indian. Jake whispers, “Now!” as he launches himself at the crawling brave landing on his naked back. Grabbing at the brave’s knife hand Jake wrestles him into a choke hold and ends up lying on his back with the squirming indian laying belly up atop of him. Jake says, “Do it Pete…do it now!…What’s wrong with yer…You’ve gut a deer before ain’t yer boy…well this here buck is no different…now stick him!” Pete lunges forward with his hunting knife and helps Jake by also holding off the brave’s knife arm then, almost in a frenzy, stabs his blade deep into the lower belly and navel of the struggling indian…again and again and again. When Jake feels the brave go limp and hot blood pooling on his own belly he says, “Pete, that’s enough…PETE!…enough!” Just then, as if knowing what had become of their brother warrior, the whooping falls silent. Jake rolls the dead brave off him and they both try to remain alert but the chill of night time makes it difficult so Jake, crawling over to Pete, embraces the youth in a hug. They share each other’s body warmth until sun up when they again take up their defensive positions. In the light of day Pete tries hard not to look at the indian brave he butchered. The continuing silence prompts Pete to say, “Maybe they’ve skeddadled Jake?…maybe they’ve seen my pa and the search party coming?” Jake replies, “Listen Pete, ya pa won’t know we’re missing until later cos I told him we were gonna camp out overnight…I only told yer that to keep ya calm, so no, those savages are still out there.” Pete doesn’t react to this revelation.

Suddenly they hear the sound of a single pistol shot…Pete excitedly exclaims, “It is pa, he’s come for us…I told yer he would Jake.” Jake replies, “No yung un, I’ll wager that’s Jesse’s pistol those ornery varmints are playing with…don’t worry none cos these injuns ain’t used to guns so unless they’re right up close to ya they couldn’t hit a barn door.” Not long after Jake says this they hear the clattering of stones and spin around to see a mostly naked and war painted indian warrior appear atop a shallow scree slope aiming Jesse’s pistol in their direction. Almost simultaneously all three fire their pistols… the Shawnee is hit in his navel but before he can claw at his wound a second shot to his left breast sends him spinning to fall limp down the slope. Pete says, “We got another one Jake…JAKE!”…Pete, on turning to Jake, sees him clutching at his belly and in obvious pain. Jake whimpers, “I’m gut shot Pete…it hurts real bad!” Pete, now oblivious to the impending danger, tries to aid Jake but before he can do anything he is roughly grabbed from behind by a muscular forearm around his neck. Pete is disarmed and firmly held while forced to watch as a brave, believing that bullets can be reused like arrows, commences to cut the bullet out of the belly of a screaming Jake who eventually falls quiet and still as death takes him. Pete struggles, cursing at the Shawnee. One of the Shawnee band is Pete’s age and an older warrior summons him forward to stand face to face with Pete. The Shawnee youth is similar in physique to Pete but with better defined abdominals. His war painted face gives the aggressive snarl he is giving Pete a fearsome look. Then the older warrior starts chattering away in his native tongue which Pete can’t understand…but he soon comes to realise what they intend for him.

The Shawnee youth is given Pete’s hunting knife which he starts running across Pete’s body…When he gets to Pete’s navel the brave gestures a cutting action feigning gutting him as Pete feels the icy sting of the blade’s tip across his belly. Then the young Shawnee hands over the knife to Pete, walks back a few paces and, drawing his own knife, adopts a crouching classic knife fighting stance at Pete. Pete follows suit and looks for weaknesses in his adversary but all he can see is the hate the young Shawnee has for him and his desire to spill pale skin blood. Pete knows he is a dead man whatever the outcome of this fight…so, not caring they cannot understand him, he loudly says, “I AIN’T DYING WITHOUT TAKING YOU WITH ME SAVAGE!” With that they both start to circle one another but it is the Shawnee who more boldly thrusts forward with his blade. However, Pete was hoping the Shawnee’s arrogance would offer up this opportunity…As the Shawnee thrusts at Pete’s naked belly Pete sidesteps forward and, grabbing his opponent’s knife arm, uses his leg to unbalance the brave causing him to roll to the ground. “Don’t know them wrestling moves, do ya red!” Pete says as he follows through by straddling the brave who responds by violently bucking Pete off him. The two then set about a deadly wrestle in the dirt while defensively holding off each other’s knife hand. Pete feels the squirming power of the brave’s body tight against him as they roll this way and that. Soon however, the Shawnee gets the better of Pete by holding him down with his back to the ground and he slowly starts to overpower Pete’s defensive hold causing the brave’s knife to descend closer and closer to Pete’s belly. Pete can feel the brave is, like himself, in a state of arousal and Pete starts to think about accepting his fate in the deadly embrace of this handsome savage. Then, to the side, Pete sees Jake’s blood covered body and his resolve changes and he spits up at the brave. This action makes the brave to again hold his snarling face close to Pete’s but again this is what Pete hoped for…Pete rapidly head butts the brave causing him to lose some strength. Feeling the temporary lull in his enemy’s strength Pete forces his hunting knife directly into the Indian’s navel…as Pete feels the resistance of the brave’s tight abdominals he pushes harder causing the young brave to cry out and spasm against Pete. Pete, not content with this, viciously twists the blade in his enemy’s guts until he becomes limp atop of him.

Now, while the body of the dead brave is lifted from him, Pete awaits his own death… He is lifted to his feet to again stand before the older warrior. Accepting his fate Pete defiantly spits on the ground at the warrior’s feet but the warrior just starts chanting followed by reaching down to the young brave’s death wound to collect some still warm blood on his fingers. He then smears this blood on Pete’s cheekbones, like blood warpaint and chants again. Inexplicably the warrior then gives Pete the young braves knife, bow and arrows and tomahawk while another warrior brings over the coloured pony of the brave and hands Pete its halter rope. While Pete continues to just stand there the Shawnee band gather their ponies and dead and are soon gone out of view. Not knowing how much time elapses Pete becomes aware of a familiar voice, that of his father urgently calling out his name…

Pete is initially left with mixed feelings over surviving the encounter while his friends lay dead…In a weird sense he had developed a kind of respect for the Shawnee, in much the same way as he did for wild animals…Yet despite this, the overriding feeling for Pete would end up being one of hate…A hate that would soon see him lead a vigilante raid on the nearest, mostly peaceful, Shawnee village, regardless of where the war party had come from, as revenge for the loss of his two friends…but that’s another story…

The Further Confessions of a Gang Member

In this barrio two rival gangs compete for dominance, my caucasian gang, the Falcons and the Cholos (Latino), Pantera (panther) gang. We are similarly dressed in that both gangs favor just open leather waistcoats exposing our torsos (think The Warriors) each with either the patch of a falcon or a panther’s head on the back.

This summer’s day I am patrolling the buffer area between our two gangs with two falcon brotherhood when we see three teenage Pantera run from us. We are all in our twenties and seasoned warriors which is probably why they ran. We set off in pursuit but when they split up I direct us to stay together and concentrate on taking just one down. We soon see our chosen enemy heading in the direction of a recently blocked off underpass and we work together to corral him there. 

Upon realising he has been trapped like a rat he pulls his switchblade, pointing it in turn at his three approaching enemies. This aggressive defensive act stirs my loins and, as I pull my own naked blade, my jeans develop a noticeable bulge. I am in the central position and, as we three Falcons close in on the youth, he backs up tight to the wall and starts wildly slashing his blade from side to side. 

The teenage Pantera has slick black hair and brown piercing eyes and his skin tone is mediterranean. He wears a greasy red bandanna apache style around his head, an open short black leather waistcoat adorned with a panther’s head and low fitting faded blue jeans. The open short waistcoat and low jeans expose his six pack abs and hair line from outie navel to low belly.

I say,

“So young panther, how long do you think your steel claw will hold us off from skinning you alive to display your hide in our crib?”

Sweat starts to channel down the midline of his abs and over his outie, noticeably wetting and darkening the hair on his happy trail while the underpass lighting makes his abs glisten and appear more profiled. I long to feel his abs flex against mine in a mortal struggle but my two Falcon brothers may just want a quick kill. However, events soon start to go in a different direction…

As we close in on him we come close enough for me to push one of my brothers towards the trapped panther saying, 

“Go get him Falcon!”

This throws my Falcon brother off balance allowing the Pantera a quick stab into his naked belly just above his belly button. He cries out in pain grasping at his wound as the Pantera follows through with another quick stab deep into his left pectoral causing him to crumple to the ground taking his last breath. The other Falcon, still holding his knife to the Pantera, stares at me in disbelief saying,

“What the fuck you doing man!?”

I watch as his gaze returns to the cornered youth when I quickly lunge, slashing my blade forcibly across my Falcon brother’s belly. He yells in pain as he collapses to his knees trying desperately to hold onto his guts before he too breathes his last.

Initially stunned and confused by my actions, the reality of the smell of the blood from his fallen enemies gives the Pantera fresh impetus. I notice that the excitement of this situation has made the tip of his swollen cock appear above the low waistband of his jeans. The Pantera becomes cocky in his attitude as well, as he says, 

“Es tu turno de morir ahora hombre…It’s your turn to die now hombre!”

Now, I may be a betrayer of my own kind in my desire for physical contact with this youth but years of street fighting has made me no fool as I toy with the inexperienced cub.

We close together and defensively grasp the knife hand of each other and I start to feel his youthful power against me. In the heat of my own excitement I allow my knife to drop to the ground. The Pantera gives me a snarling sneer as he now uses both his hands to attempt to drive his blade into me. Our struggle over the one knife brings our bodies into close contact and I feel the squirming power of his abdominals against my naked belly. As he believes he is now overpowering me by his blade getting closer to my heart I start to feel his whole body rhythmically tensing until the action of our squirming bellies becomes lubricated by an explosion of cum from his throbbing cock. I smell his hot breath as he snarls into my face in what he believes is his victory when…

I suddenly increase my defensive strength against his descending blade with my right hand and with my left reach for another concealed knife from the back of my waistband. I thrust it forward between our bellies and actually hear the tip enter the tensed muscles of his abs at his outie navel. I pull my blade out and stab twice more in rapid succession. He gasps and, as I feel the flow of his hot blood pulsing over my belly, I see the pained surprise in his brown eyes and I snarl back into his face. I then thrust my knife into his lower belly next to his still oozing cock and feel his whole body shudder as I tear the blade up through his abdominals following his happy trail to his already invaded navel. My body is flooded with intense victorious pleasure as the eviserated panther slides down against the wall to my feet. I kneel next to him taking in the vision of the fallen youth and caress parts of his anatomy that only consenting lovers would accept.

Back at the Falcons’ crib I relate how two of our brotherhood bravely fell after being outnumbered by a group of teenage Pantera. As I lay a Pantera’s bloodstained leather waistcoat on the table I recount how I took revenge upon the group’s leader to the praise of my gathered brotherhood.

El Fin