Page 33 of Working the Lode

Zelnora protested no more when Bowmaker inched her skirts up over her hip and unbuttoned his broadfall, allowing his pantaloons to fall to his knees. There was silence in the glade around them as he took his time unsheathing his cock. The view of Zelnora’s strong muscular shoulders as she arched her back and offered herself to him was enough to nearly bring him to ejaculate—but it might have been the possibility that Valenzuela was watching them that excited him. And since Zel didn’t utter a peep of dissent, he presumed she was also titillated by this.

Zelnora reached behind her and scrabbled his buckskin shirt up to his shoulders, letting the silvery moonlight radiate from his pale skin. As much as he wanted the bandit to admire his athletic flank and the fat trunk of his penis, when he teased Zelnora’s engorged clitoris with his fingertips she urged him to mount her. He slid into her hot succulent pussy, embedding himself to the hilt as he realized he also wanted Valenzuela to admire Zelnora—how nimbly she arched her back like a cat on a fencepost, standing on the tips of her toes to admit his large tool.

Tossing his shirt to the dried grass at their feet, Bowmaker jounced her on his cock, then set to long lunges of his hips as he rocked her. All the while he fingered the erection of her swollen clitoris—he’d learned the sucking clenches of her climax around his prick were enough to bring him off.

“Slow,” he gasped, yanking her off the tree and clasping her shoulders to his bare chest.

She laughed, a low, salacious bubbling that came from deep in her chest. “I’m expected to slow down…when I’m speared on your magnificent penis?”

Bowmaker did not see the humor in the moment. “And you’re being watched by a base, murderous ruffian?” He had slowed his thrusts till he was barely moving, his cock twitching inside of her.

Zel smiled like a snake, the corners of her mouth turning up. “I don’t mind. I’m sure he’s admiring your colossal testicles pounding against my ass.”

Bowmaker’s face became hot with shame, but his cock jumped even more eagerly at the thought Valenzuela had his sights on his glutted balls. “Colossal? I’m not built that big.”

“Larger than that Spanish debauchee.”

“What makes you think that,” he whispered against her neck.

“When you came out of my tent, after he asked you to doctor his daughter.”

“Yes.” The mere memory had him gliding into her again. That ardent, sensual kiss between the two men had been more than a genteel show of gratitude. Bowmaker knew there were some odd countries where men kissed to show platonic love. In the mountains he’d seen men, presumably Europeans, do it. To get his mind off Valenzuela’s supple mouth, he had been telling himself the desperado was from one of those countries. But the way he licked and sucked Bowmaker’s tongue went beyond a simple thanks. Bowmaker wished he had not shoved the Spaniard away so swiftly. It had just been a natural reaction, and it was unseemly to show affection to another when Zelnora was not present—as though he were stealing something he owed to her.

“His serape was fallen to one shoulder, and his erection stuck out like a lodge pole. Not as big as yours.”

Bowmaker almost protested, but this time he did hear the enormous Californio spurs jangling as Valenzuela approached him from behind. The heat emanated from Valenzuela’s shirtfront as he pressed gently against Bowmaker’s hunched back.

“Not as big, my dear?” Valenzuela chided in an uncharacteristic manner. He happily bantered, not the dead serious assassin about to count a coup on them like so many buffalo. His fingertips played a glissando down Bowmaker’s back muscles, making gooseflesh on his arms and stiffening his nipples. “Perhaps you’re right, my gorgeous gold-finder. This pelirrojo one is hung like a prize bull.” He walked his fingers round under Bowmaker’s arm to pinch his taut nipples into painfully thrilled points.

Fact, Bowmaker felt the ridge of Valenzuela’s cock pressed against his bare ass. Ho boy, was he going to attempt to fuck him, squashing him like an arrow between two hump ribs? Bowmaker could never allow himself to be demeaned in such a way, in front of Zelnora.

Reaching one limber arm up to caress the back of Bowmaker’s neck, Zelnora purred, “Toro pelirrojo, you’re right about that, Joaquin. At first I was afraid I couldn’t take him, his penis was so magnificent and—“

“—colossal,” Bowmaker reminded her, as Valenzuela dropped to his knees behind him, and Bowmaker felt the heat of Valenzuela’s face brushing his backside. Just the snort of Valenzuela’s breath against his tight full balls was enough to send a rush of semen halfway up his cock, and he plunged into his sweetheart again. She grunted with gusto, arching her back even more energetically, and when Valenzuela tenderly bit the globe of his ass and sprinkled several more nibbles, Bowmaker had to still himself, gasping for air against Zelnora’s shoulder.

“Wait, wait…” Zelnora exhorted.

Funny she should be the one to still him.

So Bowmaker eased his prick out of the woman about halfway and stood poised, his leg muscles trembling with anticipation.

“Mmmm.”

He felt as much as heard Valenzuela utter this satisfied sound of appreciation. And then he was lapping, the tip of his tongue flickering like a butterfly against the flesh of Bowmaker’s erupting balls.

Such a tender, dainty little mouth! Bowmaker heard ox-like grunts coming from somewhere in the redwood bower. Zelnora certainly could cut loose a spree! What a rambunctious, rollicking woman! She—ho boy, it was he who sounded like rutting cattle, he who shivered the ground beneath his feet with his orgasmic trembling!

The Spaniard accelerated his lapping, opening his hot mouth to nip and slurp at Bowmaker’s balls. Bowmaker arched his back to allow better access, and the greedy smacking sounded loudly in the enclosed redwood glen. The reverberation of Valenzuela’s groans shivered through his balls and up the underside of his distended prick.

He shot center into Zelnora’s scalding, tight pussy.

Not until much later did he realize that his butt was pressed into the face of a wicked Spanish bandit, and when he eventually withdrew from Zel’s flaming pussy, from behind Joaquin lathed his prick clean of jism, smacking his lips pruriently. Joaquin squiggled his nimble fingers up and down the length of Bowmaker’s prick, milking the last drops, fervently supping his seed. Bowmaker wrapped his fingers around Valenzuela’s skull, cradling him to his crotch as he shuddered into the blistering, talented mouth.

This child’s no traveler. I am a trapper, a mountain man. I’ve seen a petrified forest, as sure as my rifle’s got hindsights.

Here’s damp powder and no fire to dry it.