Story: Indians and Cowboys

One last story from the old blog. This one was posted in 2000 there, and I'm resisting the urge to edit it now. You'll tell me if it needs anything, right?

He was clad only in a deerskin breechclout and moccasins, and he was hanging from a thick limb of an old oak tree a long way from town. His brown body twisted slowly in the light summer breeze that also blew through his long dark hair. His wrists were bound with rawhide behind his back, and his fingers were now curled and stiff above his ass.

The posse who lynched this Indian rode off a short while ago. I was watching them from a nearby ridge. I don't know any more about why they strung him up, except that he was Indian and the posse had it in for Indians. They stuck around long enough to make sure he was dead, then took off for town. I waited until I knew they were at least a quarter mile away before I made my way down to the hanging tree.

It was eerie quiet, which made the creaking of the noose-rope even louder. The toes of the Indian's moccasins pointed almost straight down to the ground that was about 3 feet away. He was a good-looking guy, with long straight black hair and a slender, sinewy brown body that was a little dirty from the roughing-up he got from the posse before they strung him up. His head was cocked to one side by the knot in the noose, and he was slack-jawed and staring with blank eyes at the ground. I dunno why, but it was exciting to be there, this close to the dead Indian, even though I was afraid the posse would come back, or worse, the Indian's friends maybe.

Story: Just Lookin'

The file data says this was published to my old site in July 2002, but I think the story is older than that. I've only lightly edited it, although I suspect I could do a lot more if I took the time. It still got me horny as is, so I'll post it and come back to it later.

It was one of those beautiful early October days when the weather is incredible—sunny and warm, kind of the last gasp of summer. I decided to reward myself for a long week of work by going for a walk around some weedy fields near my house. They're abandoned, haven't been plowed in years, and you see a lot of little birds and interesting flowers. And then there is the old barn off on one side of the big field. When I was younger it was a great place to explore. And a great place to get into trouble. I admit I had some crotch-swelling thoughts about what I could do in that barn today.

I wandered around the fields and woods for about an hour, not paying much attention to the wildlife because I was thinking too much about getting to the barn for a hot jack-off session. It was so warm I was shirtless, which always turns me on a little more. So I walked through the tall weeds toward the barn. It was old, had lost some of its boards. A couple of the doors were gone or hanging askew. The weeds were pretty short closer to the barn, so I guess I was pretty quiet. I scanned the area to see if there was anyone nearby, but like usual the place looked deserted. So I entered the barn.

It was cool, well-lit because of the holes in the walls. In the front room of the barn were some small piles of hay, a couple of old buckets, but not much else. This barn had been abandoned as long as the fields had. Which is what made the noise I heard startle me. It came from the back room of the barn and it sounded like something had dropped, then someone said "shit." I froze. When a minute passed and I didn't hear anything else, I quickly ducked out of the barn.

But I was curious.