Page 11 of Return to Telegraph Creek

I let my gaze run o’er him, feeling the desire surge in my gut.“Look at that silly little thing, tryin’ to stand tall but lookin’ small still.It ain’t nothin’ but a nubby.”

Oscar closed his eyes and made a sound like he was in Heaven itself.“Oh, God.”

“Now you turn around, go down on your knees and bend yourself o’er that saddle.”

Oscar’s forehead creased like he couldn’t handle the way he was feeling, but he turned around and did as I’d told him, like the very good boy he always was for me—at least when it came to personal handling.This was about the only time he didn’t give me cheek, and I was thankful for it.

And there he was, laid out for me on the smooth, hard leather, with his elbows in the dirt and his shoulders tense under his shirt.

I nudged between his knees with the toe of my boot, none too gently.

“Spread ’em.You know how.”

“Yes, sir,” he panted, moving his knees wider, the dark cleft between his cheeks beckoning me with promised pleasure.

“Now, you’ve been a good boy, Oscar, but I reckon you need to be shown your place still, don’t you?”

His breath caught and he jerked.“Yes, sir.I reckon so.”

“Oh, I know so,” I said, kneeling down behind him and running a palm o’er his fleshy bottom—a good deal plumper than it had been when I’d done this the first time.I’d succeeded in putting more meat on his skinny bones and now he was perfect—not fat in the least, but filled out and muscled properly, like a grown man should be.He’d blossomed and bloomed in my care, and I couldn’t help feeling a bit puffed up about it.If I’d done one thing to make up for my sorry life as an outlaw, it was this.

But ’twasn’t the time for maudlin emotion, so I tamped those feelings down and got to business.

“You ready?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, with a hiccupped breath of anticipation.

“All right.You say your word if you need to.”

“I won’t.”

“You might.”

He gave a small laugh and nodded in obedience.

But when I brought my hand down on his right buttock, he gasped.“Oh…Jimmy!”

“You like that?”

“Yes,” he hissed.“Oh, yes.”

I slapped the other cheek, causing a similar reaction.I went back and forth, taking my time and being casual about it, so he didn’t know when another was coming.And in between, I’d tickle the inside of his thigh or run a finger down his crack, until he could barely contain himself.

“Oh my God.Oh fuck!Ohfuck.”

“You’re a good boy, Oscar Yates.”

“Yes, sir!”

“And I’m gonna reward you for bein’ so good.”

“Please, oh, please.Sir!”His breaths were ragged in his throat, he widened his stance, and I couldn’t hold off anymore.

I fucked him o’er my saddle then, using the grease I’d set beside us, easing into him like ’twas my mission in life, which it felt like ’twas, to be honest.A deep, intense groan tore outta him and echoed in the darkness like the cry of a wild animal.

And hewaswild, my Oscar—wild and free and beautiful.

After I spent inside him, I turned him o’er and sucked his cock like ’twas all I’d ever wanted, as he splayed out with his arms on either side and his face turned up to the stars.His head and shoulders rested on the saddle as he lay there, his chest rising and falling with his slowing breaths—a willing sacrifice to my hunger and my worship.