A Good
Day for A Hangin'
Mike sauntered from
the clapboard sheriff's office and stood looking at the dusty street. He
fished out his cock and pissed a thick yellow stream off to the side and then
reached for his suspenders, which were hanging down on each side of his
pants. Lazily, he lifted them over his naked torso, finally stretching them
out in front of him. He breathed the morning air deeply and grinned,
releasing the suspenders so they slapped back against his chest, hitting both
nipples with a resounding snap, bringing them to attention. He licked a finger
and held it up test the air and to discover that there was a slight breeze,
then hooked his thumbs back under his suspenders and rocked back and forth on
the balls of his naked feet. Looking about, he heaved a contented sigh,
rubbing the stubble on his face and thick neck with one hand. "Yep. It's a
good day for a hanging ... right, son?" He winked and looked over his
shoulder at the sullen man in the doorway who just looked down as if he were
about to cry. Mike chuckled and
winked and ran his palms over the hair on his brawny chest. He stuck his
lower lip out as he looked at his stomach. It was firm, but it bulged--partly
because it had always been hard and protruding but more recently, probably
from too much beer and fried chicken the townfolk
were always giving him. He was a stocky man with a shorter belly-to-chest
ratio than most. He turned back to the man in the doorway and slapped him on
the shoulder. The man clenched his jaws and the muscles on his long neck
stood out prominently. "C'mon, Buster,
it'll be over soon," Mike chuckled, then leered, and said in a lower,
deeper voice, "real soon." He let his hands
slip over the man's naked shoulders and rounded chest and let them rub the
rippled muscles of his long, narrow abdomen. Buster was 28 and lean, clean
shaven and with a smooth body. His dark looks only added to the sense of
gloom and Mike tried to help him out by rubbing the front of Buster's pants,
massaging his groin. Buster's morning
hard-on hadn't abated, but he firmly moved the hairy arm away and turned to
look back at the empty jail house and the opened cell. "I understand
when a man hangs, he gets rewarded by blowing his nuts off better than he
ever did before," Mike cackled softly, nuzzling his nose up to Buster's
ear. "Will it hurt?
The hangin' I mean," the younger man said
softly. Mike arched his
eyebrows up and stroked his chin and neck again. "Well, I don't rightly
know ..." He took Buster's forearms with an amused look in his eyes,
placed them so they rested on his shoulders and guided his hands, placing
them around his own throat. "Squeeze!" Buster hesitated at
first, looking around as if trying to find a place where he could run, but slowly,
ever so slowly, the strong fingers clenched. Buster's lips curled as he
tightened the muscles in his forearms, some animation finally coming into
him. Mike grinned and stuck his tongue out, making gurgling sounds, more for
the effect rather than the reality, as he taunted the man in front of him.
Slowly fuming, Buster increased the intensity of his clenching and began to
shake the larger man's head throttling him. Mike made no effort to stop him,
but his own cock was rigid and dripping down the inside of his pants. Buster
drew his hands back suddenly, as if he had touched fire, and placed them
under his armpits, turning away from Mike and lowering his head. The flush
that had come to his cheeks from anger was replaced with the flush of
embarrassment. Mike rubbed his
thick neck and bent over coughing a bit and trying to get his breath back. "Yep. It hurts.
A lot, too!" He flashed a wide grin, looked at the slender man and
patted his shoulder tenderly. "We both know its
supposed to hurt, son." He slapped the shoulder and shook it.
"That's the whole point, dammit! That's why
the boys set up the rope like they did." Buster's eyes moved
to the simple, low structure with the rope hanging from it. It was designed
with the trap on the edge of it so that when the trap (the entire front of
the platform) dropped, its victim would be in full view of the
spectators--not like the ones with the trap door in the middle of a floor so
that half a man's body was below and half above with much of the view obscured
by the floor boards. Twelve spectators
and the hangman--the entire town--wanted an unobstructed view. Thirteen in
all. Was it an irony of fate that the number was so stereotypical or maybe
that twelve was the number of men in a jury plus one judge? His eyes smoldered as he looked at the grinning sheriff. "Sure!"
Mike rolled back and forth on the balls of his naked feet, pulling at his
suspenders and grinning lasciviously at the worried man. "We could'a built a real gibbet if we wanted to--one that
lets a man drop a few feet so his neck snaps and he dies quickly (or if he's
unlucky--or lucky--so the rope cuts his head off), but the boys here want a
show. They want to see a man dance as he goes." Buster shrugged away
from the larger man's grasp and, still with arms crossed, he walked into the
middle of the dirt street. There were only a few buildings in the town. The
jailhouse, the general store, the saloon, and several houses. Men in various states
of dress started coming out and milling toward them. Most were shirtless. All
wore holsters and were carrying pistols or rifles and all were grinning at
the two men. "We about
ready?" the tall, swarthy one, Jim, grinned at Mike. "Yep!" Mike
beamed back. "Buster here is a little upset, though." The men chuckled. Louis came up behind
Mike and gave him a bear hug, his long blond hair cascading over Mike's
shoulders as he kissed his neck. He was a huge, well-muscled man whose own
neck was short because of the muscle build-up on his shoulders and
collarbone, and he spun Mike around, holding him out at arm's length. Then,
with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he pulled on the suspenders,
stretching them so that Mike's body arched. He let them snap back and the
loud sound and cry of pain made the twelve other men laugh and guffaw. "I hope he
dances for a long time," one of the men said aloud. "Yep," Mike
said. "I researched the body weight and amount of drop, so we shouldn't
have no trouble there." "Well,
hey," said Luke, the strawberry blond farmer to the skinny lad next to
him. "I hope he shoots his load like Mike said hanged men do. I've got a
tenner riding on it that he does!" The skinny
lad just pushed up his straw hat and grinned, looking at all of the men
around him with their stiff meat tenting their clothes. Mike slapped his
stomach and chuckled good-humoredly. "Speaking
of which, I think we'd all enjoy this more if we were all naked." He
slipped his suspenders down and dropped his pants, stepping out of them. The
men gawked at the familiar thick sausage but were always impressed by his
low-hanging huge door-knocker balls. As if on cue, they
all stripped, but donned their holsters again. Mike looked sideways
at Buster. "Aren't ya gonna
join us, son?" Blushing, Buster
reluctantly dropped his pants to reveal a very hard and sizable cock. His
balls, too, matched Mike's in size, but his crotch hair wasn't as coarse.
Petulantly, he kicked his clothes aside. "I wonder what's
eating Buster today?" Lewis muttered, rubbing the red sunburn on the
back of his neck. The men laughed and Buster glared at them silently. "All right.
Settle down," Mike took on his air of authority befitting his job.
"You all know what to do once the hanging commences?" There were
eager nods as each man reached for his pistol. Zeke stroked the barrel of his
rifle as if it were an iron cock and blurted to Luke, Buster and the others,
"An' I git to shoot his balls off! I paid forty dollars and ah'm gonna make those bull
balls splatter. Hmm, mmm." All the men laughed
and even Buster grinned a bit. The skinny 20
year-old darted into the sheriff's office and sprinted up to Mike, clutching
the sheriff's cowboy hat, grinning, "Here, sheriff. Yu'll
need yer badge." With his gawky long arms,
spindly legs, long and thin neck and that straw hat he looked much younger--like
an adolescent Huck Finn. His youthful, innocent looks, however, were quite
deceiving as he was one of the hottest fuckers in town and often got into
heaps of trouble in other towns. "Oh ho. Rightly
so," Mike mused as he looked at the badge pinned to his hat. He put his
hat on and then sent the lad to his office for his vest which the eager lad
retrieved. Mike removed the badge from the vest and handed it to Buster,
grinning. "Since you're gonna be through a lot in the next few minutes, I reckon
you should be the one ta' pin this on me the RIGHT
way," and he turned half-way so that his nipple was closest to Buster. Buster shook his head
in disbelief and grinned, then aimed the pin at the dark brown man-tit
covered with the dark furry hair. He wanted to hurt this man who mocked his
distress. He slowly pierced through the nipple and slid the pin behind the
dark chocolate tit until it stretched the skin on the other side. He drew it
back a bit and with a vicious jab, pierced the exit wound open, latched the
pin and patted it onto Mike's chest. Mike hadn't budged but had only gritted
his teeth and gasped when the exit wound was made. Buster allowed
himself a small smile of triumph, having gotten some control in the otherwise
unmanageable set of circumstances in which he found himself. Mike clasped him
on his shoulders. "You know I love you," he said huskily. Buster
grinned and blushed. Embarrassed, he nodded and shuffled his feet in the
dust. "Me, too." "Good,
then," Mike's chest heaved and he slid his vest on. Then arching a brow
at Buster he asked gravely, "Ready?" Leroy came up and
whispered into the sheriff's ear. He was a broadly built, dark-skinned black
and, when Mike chuckled, nodded his affirmative answer, and slapped the eager
black on the bare ass, Leroy announced to the assemblage, "Hey, ya'all. Mike says if he creams I get to have it spatter
on my chest and gut! Is that okay with you, too, Buster?" He suddenly
realized how his remark might be taken by the sensitive man. "Oh." "You guys are
something else," Buster shook his head in disbelief and sheepishly
grinned. "Yeah, I suppose so." "But I still get
the winnings from my tenner!" "And I still get
to blow his nuts to kingDOM cum!! Yahoo!" Mike heaved a sigh
and clasped Buster's shoulder affectionately. "Okay, then. There's only
one more thing to do so let's get it over with. These boys want their show
and they're likely to cream soon just standing here talking like this." Mike led Buster to
the scaffold and up the steps. At the top he handed a small rope with a
miniature hangman's noose to Buster. "Put it on my balls." Buster
hesitated, shrugged and knelt and tenderly slipped the noose around the large
testicles, yanking it roughly to tighten the knot and to make the sheriff
gasp. "Good boy,"
Mike shook his head and chuckled, patting Buster on his sweaty back.
"Got anything to say afore we commence?" Buster shook his head, but
looked at the larger noose swaying in the slight breeze which did little to
abate the intense heat of the day. "Well, I
do!" Mike grinned and slapped the man's naked, tight buttocks. He turned
to the small crowd, flinging the end of the rope hanging from his balls over
the edge of the platform. "Friends! And I
say that in all sincerity. Friends, you have not just come here to watch a
man hang ..." "Sure we
did!" Leroy hooted. "You bet, and
dance, too!" Luke shouted raising his arm and punching down on the air
as if hitting a saloon table. All of the men
shouted and whistled and slapped their thighs. "Okay, okay, so
you did," Mike shook his head chuckling and even Buster grinned a solid
grin for the first time. "My fault. But where else can you get to have a
free show like this and in the nude? Eh? Well ... when you scum first
captured me three years ago and passed your sentence on me, I didn't dream we
would be having so much fun, but you all kept fucking and sucking me and
whipping me right here on this street." He patted his foot on
the platform which was over the spot where he had first been whipped. "And over there
are the stocks where you guys locked me up bent over and paddled my ass,
running yer horses up and down the street and using
yer belts and any ol'
piece of wood to tenderize my saddle-hardened buttocks. Then, with my ass
still out, all of ya' fucked me for two whole
days." He grinned, tears in
his eyes as he rubbed his hard ass. The men guffawed. "Remember the
wrestling match? That big lug, Louis, beat the crap out of me and banged my
nuts with his fist so hard, I thought they'd be damaged for good!" He
tugged on his rope and his sac stretched smoothing over the orbs and
demonstrating that his prized pears were still in top-notch shape. Louis
wiped a small tear from his eye. "And the horse
races? Each of you road me up the street jabbing those damn spurs into my gut
to get me going," he said leering at a few special men. Leroy, Zeke,
Luke and the skinny lad fiercely grabbed their raging erections as they
recalled their fondest memories, precum oozing down
their shafts and lubricating their slick meat--now glistening in the sun. Mike stood up, legs
spread and hands on his waist. "But I'm a lawman," he continued,
wincing when he tapped his badge against he chest.
He put his hands behind his back and nodded to Buster who began tying them. "... and I take
my vows seriously. Sooner or later I'd have an opportunity to fulfill my oath. Fortunately, you men have made it
impossible for me to arrest you or go fetch help, but I almost was able to
git away last week and git to the county seat--albeit reluctantly. If it
hadn't been for Ben's horse getting diarrhea so
severely just ten miles out so's I had to stop and
walk, and for Buster c'ming after me to fetch me
back, ya' all would've been dangling sooner or
later. "I can't take
that risk agin. You might be train robbers, cattle
rustlers, cheatin' gamblers and other scum--"
he looked over the group, "but yer MY scum and
I love all of ya too much to be the one who has to
loop a rope around YOUR necks. Besides," he shrugged his shoulders, his
hands now bound behind him as he looked longingly at the noose just inches in
front of him, "although I really did like all of the things ya'all made me do to entertain you, this is something
I'VE been wanting. Yeah. I know it's hard to believe, but ev'ry
time I'd bring a man in for a hangin', I'd wished
it was me on the scaffold instead." He burst into a big
grin. "And now it is!" He laughed and guffawed, bending over and
shaking his head to try to regain his composure. " I guess I'm called
the 'hangin' sheriff' for more than one reason. So
do this for me because I want it, too." The crowd cheered and
jumped up and down lauding Mike's praises, physical attributes, and courage,
whistling and shouting lewd remarks about how hung he already was and such.
When they had calmed down, Mike heaved a deep sigh, looked at the rope, and
turned to Buster. "Ready,
son?" Buster grinned a big
grin, his heart swelling within his chest. He might not have wanted to lose
his best friend and bunk mate, but he would do the best hanging job and enjoy
the show too because Mike wanted it that way. He came up to Mike and kissed
his neck, licking a spot to wet it and whispering evily,
"That's so I know where to place the rope." A knot formed in Mike's
gut and his mouth started to taste metallic, but he knew Buster'd
be okay with this after all. "Hey, Leroy! Get
your big black ass over here! That's right. Stand right in from of me if ya'all want my jism streaming
down that nice black skin of yurn! And you better
git all of it, too, or the guys'll have your
carcass upside down as they ride through the town whapping
it with their belts." Leroy's thick lips
parted and he flashed a toothy grin with his white teeth gleaming. "Yoh got it, boss. Ah' wants ya ta see all of the white cum streamin'
down mah body, just glistnin'
white on mah shiny black flesh, and ah' wants ta make sho' it's the last
thing yoh'll eva' see
while yoh is gasping an' thrashin'!
Ah' never seen a white man turn red or purple, so give me a good sho', boss." Buster reached for
the noose and pulled it to Mike. He removed the cowboy hat and hung it on his
own hard-on as he pushed the small opening over Mike's big head. He struggled
to get it over Mike's ears, but that was how Mike had wanted it--a small
opening in the noose like a virgin anus with a big dickhead pushing through
it. He wanted to feel the fibers on his hair and
over his flesh, threatening him with each inch the rope moved down,
titillating each strand of hair as it stood up in its goose bump and sending
the vibrations along the heightened nerves. Buster tightened the
knot but then released it a bit so it would tighten better when Mike fell. He
plunked the cowboy hat back on the sheriff and grinned. He had a vitality now
that he had lacked before and suddenly seemed more eager than any of the men
below. "Ready?" he
grinned and slapped Mike's ass--almost making him lose his balance. But
Buster grabbed the incredibly solid prick meat and held him onto the edge of
the platform. Mike's heart was racing and he was sweating. He took a moment
to assess if this was really what he had indeed wanted and he recalled all of
the men he had seen hanged. He gulped and his large Adam's apple moved up and
jiggled the rope. Spreading his legs
and placing his toes over the edge of the platform, he nodded and Buster
eagerly leapt off the platform and grabbed the lever. There was an incredibly
tense moment as Buster nervously palmed the lever and Leroy went to his
knees, arching backwards in front of the doomed man. The men put their
palms on their pistols and Zeke slid his fist further down the barrel of his
rifle, nervously jiggling it. Mike was looking down fondly at all of them
when the skinny lad raised and then dropped his arm. There was a moment's
pause--an eternity in that moment as Mike's heart raced and his breathing
quickened, the rope tickling his shoulders and neck. With a grin and
gritted teeth, Buster grabbed the lever like it was a hot cock and yanked.
The full platform dropped so that Mike was suspended three feet away from any
impediment. He dropped a foot or two and gasped at the shooting pain all
around his neck. He gagged as the rope constricted and actually got a few
weak breaths in as he struggled and kicked. He even had the presence of
mind--while fighting for air in his agony--to spread his legs way out on a
few kicks. He knew the men wanted a dance and he gave it--with a full view of
his balls. His face turned
redder as he looked down--Leroy waiting, his body glistening in the hot sun
grinning and showing those big white pearls; Zeke nervously waving his rifle;
Buster grasping for the rope dangling between the vigorously thrashing legs.
Mike was on the best high he ever felt. His hips bucked as he struggled and
on the sixth kick, his hat flew off and landed on the lever as if it were its
usual resting peg. Buster took out a
Bowie knife from its leather strap next to the lever and cut the rope from
Mike's balls. The legs weren't moving as vigorously now, but a sudden jerking
motion caused the doomed balls to tighten up one final time and his cock to
become so hard, it looked like the skin would split. Buster held Mike's
waist as the hanging sheriff jettisoned a foamy spray of cum onto the eager
black's chest and belly. Thick gobs spewed forth as Luke jumped around
shouting, "I won! I won!" The black man's
smooth flesh was covered in white goo and one shot landed on his thick lips.
Grinning, he licked it, savouring its hot
flavour-dead men's cum is so much more delicious. Mike was amazed that
his conscious mind was calmly detailing everything while another part
wrestled to keep the life within him. He was satisfied that he had seen this
and even managed a weak grin knowing it was the best orgasm he had ever had,
but as he became weaker, the pain actually subsiding, the ringing in his ears
becoming a low hum, and his vision blurring and darkening more, he watched
the men remove their weapons and aim them at him. He almost wished they would
cut him down and do this to him again--maybe three or four times in the day,
but the men aimed their revolvers and fired into his torso, hitting him
mostly in his belly with a few in his right pectoral muscle away from the
heart. Mike's fingers
twitched, as did his legs, and the fingers finally drooped lifelessly,
brushing his own ass. Zeke positioned his
double-barrelled rifle onto Mike's nuts as two men held the weakly spasming legs apart. There was a loud report as the
jewels they all loved splattered into a spray of blood and tissue. The men
holding the legs yanked and Mike was still. They let him swing
for an hour, swatting his butt as they raced up and down the street on their
horses. Each secretly dreading but desiring when another, less cooperative
sheriff might actually catch them and they would experience what Mike had
sacrificed for them. |
