Note to readers. This is a continuing story told to me by a friend who is strictly “trade.” He will permit me to tell of his gay affairs only if I don’t change his name, Verne and do change the name (s) of his partner (s) in that affair. If you have the uncontrollable desire to embellish this story, do so but do not make Verne into any person other than a guy who is so much a top with gay guys that he has never took a penis in his mouth or anal opening. You should note I am like a gay Dr. Watson to Verne’s Sherlock Holmes and the details are usually given to me after I have completed oral sex or been used anal.

Verne and Charley the Indian Man.

While in my usual worshiping position between Verne’s legs, a story on the television about some Indians and cowboys got my friend to talking about an Indian he knows or knew.

“The way you use your tongue, Bob,” Verne said as he flopped his flaccid eight inch penis up towards his umbilicus (belly button) so his testicles were more available to me for an occasional lick. “Reminds me of Charley, the Indian man, whom I ran into as I hitchhiked across New Mexico one late summer.

“May I use this story?” I asked my handsome masculine friend who usually did give me permission to retell his stories to my friends and readers.

“Sure, Bob,” Verne replied “but remember, Charley was not his real name.” When Verne used his right hand to raise his balls, I knew he wanted to feel my tongue on his anal opening again and a very pleasurable thrill went through my emotional system at being allowed to serve his thus.

“So, you were in New Mexico on a hike,” I finally remarked after maybe three minutes of silence other than moans were heard from Verne’s larynx. Luckily, I had not turned on my ready companion, a voice activated Olympus voice recorder which my friend allows me to put near his head when he is going to tell me a story.

“All right, Bob, turn on your recorder. I think you get off when you are in bed just listening to these little stories of mine,” my bed companion laughed. When my recorder was in position, my storyteller continued. My friend must have great telepathic talent.

“It was getting late in the afternoon and I was on a very rural road in the foothills of Northern New Mexico. An hour before, I had passed a sign stating that the vast grass lands I was passing through belonged to The Amalgamated Meat Corporation. I stopped to watch a jack rabbit mount and breed a doe and I remember I thought that jack was lucky having a sex partner away out there in the boonies.

“So I walked on in the still warm daylight savings time sunshine. That rabbit show had made my cock hard for a few minutes and I felt a desire to find some guy out there who would get me off in a way he wanted to as I would have enjoyed either a oral job or a chance to dip my dong in a hot hole.”

Verne’s opening of his story, as usual had caused my six and a half inch prick to swell up. I began to stroke it gently as I knew Verne, as nice a guy as he is and as fair minded and considerate as he is, would disdain, as usual any thought of even taking my joy rod into his hand to please me. I was happy, however to note that Verne’s very suck worthy fuck tool was slightly growing as it slowly re-engorged itself with my friend’s hot blood. When Verne’s story was done, I would be expected, as usual, to give my story teller another doubly satisfying penile attention either way Verne’s mind was tuned to at the time.

“After not seeing another two legged animal for a couple hours,” Verne went on as he felt of his now less flaccid prick that was still laying so the smooth cut clean rosy knob was up to and slowly going beyond his belly button. I thought to myself that I hoped he did not cut his story short just so he could have me pleasure that fleshy tube of loving meat. ”I spotted an old Indian in worn Levis on a sway-backed tired old pinto horse, resting in the slight shade of a equally tired old cottonwood tree. As I got nearer, I guess the old Indian noticed I had both a canteen of water and more water bottles on my back pack and he spoke to me, ’I sure hope you have a bit of water to share with me, Mister.’”

Verne reached to where he kept a bottle of store bought spring water on his bedside table and took a swallow or two. Being the great guy he is, my friend and cock provider offered me the bottle and I, not wanting to wash the lingering taste from my last sucking of his cock, declined his gift, preferring the taste of his creamy cock soup to the water.

“I guess I know why you don’t want the water,” Verne laughed and patted me on my head as it was laying on his thigh and I was getting the full advantage of the aroma from his sweaty genitals. “That old Indian and I never did find out his age, told me his name is Charley and his horse, named after Roy Roger’s horse was Trigger. After he took another big swallow of my water, said that Indian tradition compelled him to repay me with something he had and could give to me. ’As you can see, my young friend, I have nothing to give you from my pockets to pay the debt my ancestors demand I pay I do not feel you would be interested in my tired old baby maker,’ Charley suggested to me as he pulled out a cock from his Levis nearly as long as mine that just hung there in his saddle.

Verne got into a laughing spell at the memory of that moment in New Mexico and he had to get up and go take a pee.

I watched his slender tall frame go into the bathroom and I knew he would not mind if I followed and sucked the last few drops off of his semi-hard piss dispenser so I did. Kneeling on the tile floor, I reached for my target and guided it, still dripping into my mouth. The taste of piss is an acquired desire and I do not care that much for it but I will be later rewarded as I remind Verne about that moment as he is deep in my throat or my ass and he will make a little more effort to please me as I had pleased him. That day, however, I put the cock in my mouth too soon and there was a good size shot glass more that he had not emptied out and I had to drink that stuff.

Back in bed in my submissive position again, Verne allowed the knob of his cock to be closer to my lips and motioned for me to lick off a late arriving drop of urine.

“Old Charley then related that in long before youth,, he and his Indian boy friends had played man and wife at the swimming hole now long dried up. My new Indian friend told me he was often the wife to Running Turkey, the leader of his small group of friends who gathered at the pool at least once a week after the Indian School let them out from their studies of the white men’s way of living. Old Charley, with tears in his eyes, then told me how the other boys enjoyed watching Running Turkey use his asshole hard. Some even begged to be his next husband which they usually did. Well, I told Old Charley that his story was making my cock hard and he had better stop telling it.”

I was mesmerized by Verne’s fuck tool as it swelled and thickened and got up to it’s full size as that afternoon in the vast wild of uninhabited New Mexico was being relived in the carnal part of his memory. Maybe, I thought, if I wait some more for the rest of the story it will make this a cock to service that would live on in my memory also.

“Well,” Verne went on, “Rather than stop telling me the details of his being fucked in his youth, Old Charley got off of Trigger and there by the side of the unimproved dirt road, he lowered his Levis, spread apart the split in the back of his long john underwear and told me to take him as Running Turkey used to in the long ago past.

“I could not turn down the pleading eyes that Old Charley cast on me and I opened my fly and took out this hard throbbing prick you love so much; Old Charley knelt and used his mouth to lube me up. Reaching for my belt, Charley opened my Levis and pushed them and my shorts down so my ass was out in the open. Turning me around, Charley spoke as his tongue barely touched my asshole pucker, “Of course, Running Turkey, I will give you that tongue loving you let only me do to your sweet untouched hole. Then I was given a rim job that only you, Bob, can equal of all the guys I know. I was well keyed up to fuck the old man well before he got on his hands and knees in the dead grass we were standing on. “OH YES!, Running Turkey! Take me like the wolf takes the wild bitch in the hills under just the sun of New Mexico. Take me hard, o’Running Turkey! Make up for the years I have done without your making me your wife.” I let my Levis fall to my boot tops and mounted the old man as he desperately needed me to do.

“I won’t make this a long story, Bob, but I fucked that old man as he seemed to get younger and younger with each stroke of my fuck tool in his ass. Even his voice became younger as he pleaded for deeper and harder thrusts into his love hole. Much of his talk was in what I think was an Indian language. Our coupling was over thirty minutes and a better trained ass I have never found except on you, Bob. Finally, as you know it would, I shot one of my greatest cum loads into that hungry hole and Old Charley gave out a genuine Indian war whoop as he poured his seed onto the dry New Mexican earth.

“ The old Indian, slumped to the ground his naked body below his old Levi shirt laying bare on that spot miles from any other human except me. I remember, my dick shot out a couple of more blasts of cum onto his well used ass crack before I had to put it away.”

“ Old Charley spoke from his prostate position, “I knew you were the spirit of Running Turkey when I saw you suddenly appear before me. Thank you Running Turkey. I shall soon join you in our after life on earth place and I know now I will be happy there.” The old Indian fell asleep. Trigger, his horse had been watching us as if he knew what was happening so I thought I would look the horse over before I moved on.. On the far side of old Trigger I found a full leather water bag and suddenly realized that I had been used by Old Charley but somehow, I did not mind in the least. I continued on my hike into the cooler part of the evening.

After Verne finished his story, I will let you use your imagination as to how I serviced him for his pleasure and my satisfaction.