By Desert Pioneer
“Officer Merse will speak to you now,” said Jack’s captor, who was jerking him by his arm to the wooden porch on the blockhouse.
Jack thinks Officer Merse must be the top in charge, and other than obeying his commands, Jack’s not sure of the roles of either Goon 1 or Goon 2.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” demands Officer Merse to Jack, his face still concealed in a bag.
“I’m Jack, and I’m checkin out the local shit around here.”
“Looks like you are the shit around here. I told you to get lost punk. Do you know who the hell you’re fuckin talking to punk?”
“ Ya know what, I can’t even see who I’m fuckin talking to punk.”
WHAMM … knowing it’s outside of Jack’s limits Goon 2 delivers another (not-so-hard) gut punch, taking Jack by surprise. “You’re out of here in a quick minute but ain’t no city panty-ass pole smoker gonna disrespect Officer Merse, got it?” says Goon 2.
“I’m the last word and the final stop in these parts. I’ll screw you up good and you ain’t gonna like it if I see your homo ass again. Get him out of here and make sure he stays away.”
Still held under his armpit Goon 2 halls Jack back. “What’s happening here and who the hell is he really?” asks Jack.
“Shut the fuck up. He’s what he said. You won’t be the first asshole who is sorry you crossed him.”
“Yeah I think he’s a paper tiger.”
“If he sees you again you’ll find out. Shut your clapper.”
As they get to the underbrush area Goon 2 pulls the hood off of Jack’s head. “I’m getting you out in one piece, Officer Merse wants you undamaged and gone.”
Jack checks out Goon 2 who looks like he belongs in the woods. Dressed in light color T shirt jeans and boots Goon 2 is short and thin with a somewhat seedy face and bushy curled brown graying hair matching a mouth-stash starting under his nose going all the way down to his chin.
Now of the underbrush and back on the path a tall dark figure is coming their way. “Hey Roy, hurry up Officer Merse is waiting for you,” yells Goon 2.
Roy steps up and at about 6-foot-2 towers over the both of them. Wearing close-fitting jeans and leather boots, his shoulders go from here to there pushing out a green T shirt. His plaid shirt is untucked, Jack can make out what looks like some nasty abs and a mean round butt. He’s got heavy bushy eyebrows and his hair is dark and clipped tight all the way down to the bottom of his wide face. Roy is muscle-god complete.
“Hey Fella, what’s this shit?” Roy responds.
“Forget it, you aren’t supposed to see him. Officer Merse will be more pissed than he already is if he finds out.”
“Aren’t supposed to see this little faggot flower?” questions Roy as he gives Jack a little chuck under his chin. “Oh, just a little, you know, kiss, to get me started,” Roy says to Feller.
“We’re not paying you for this jagoff, now go! We got enough stuff to get you started. Just go!”
Roy puts his hand out covering Feller’s face and gives him a push almost knocking him off his feet. Jack smiles from ear to ear seeing the asshole who keeps sucker punching him get some karma.
Jack and Roy are smiling at each other. “Yeah you like that don’t you?” asks Roy as he takes his arm out of his shirt and shows Jack how he flexes his bicep. Roy flexes his arm and then takes it down to rest. Slowly flexes his arm again and again takes it down to rest. And slowly again, like a showman, flex and rest. Pulling his shirt all the way off Roy’s muscles are busting out of his one size too small T shirt. Roy shows Jack a front lat spread pose and then moves into a front double biceps pose. He looks at Jack saying, “Come on and touch it.”
Jack loves powerful men telling him what to do and his way stiff boner shows it as he glides his finger around the edge of Roy’s T shirt sleeve. “You like?” asks Roy.
Jack’s big stupid grin is all the answer Roy needs.
“Show me, show me how much you like it,” demands Roy. With that Roy grabs the back of Jack’s head with one hand and guides his face into his still flexed upper limb muscles. “Use your tongue, use your tongue to show me you like my muscles,” says Roy, now holding the back of Jack’s head and using it like a sponge to stroke his rock-hard arm.
“Oh yeah, gimme some sugar, some faggot sugar right off the tip of your tongue,” commands Roy, who gets off on using his muscles to reduce a full-grown man to a pussy ass wimp. Jack steadies himself putting his hand on Roy’s chest. “Oh, you’re going for pecs are ya, the holy grail?” asks Roy. “Tell me you love my chest.”
“I love your chest man,” was the best Jack could reply.
“Tell me you honor my biceps.”
“I honor your biceps.”
“Tell me you worship my body.”
“You are a god, Sir,” Jack replies with the sincerest “Sir” he has ever delivered.
Now with Roy pushing Jack’s face into his armpit he nearly smothers Jack before he pulls Jack’s head away. Looking directly at Jack’s face Roy whispers a long drawn “Yeahaaaaa” and steps back.
Picking up his shirt, Roy turns his attention to Feller. “Go on, get goin, I ain’t got all night to fuck around with your bitch.”
Feller is now dragging Jack down the path leaving Roy headed for the blockhouse.
As Feller puts Jack in his car he says to him, “Gonna tell you one more time, if Officer Merse sees you again, he’ll make the devil for you in the real world.”
Feller watches Jack pull out of the exit and then hurries back toward the blockhouse.
As Feller makes his way back, Jack U-turns the highway. On the trail, Jack is about 10 minutes behind Feller.
To be continued …
