Gay Erotic Stories

Hank Raynor and Matt McMillan had left Matt's father's ranch to visit Matt's sister who lived with her husband and 3 children in the next state. The rode all day long and at night would settle down on their blankets in each others arms, to make love under the stars and bright, clear moon.

At the end of the third day of their trip the two men came across a small wagon train, just six wagons, heading west in search of a new life. The wagon train master had ridden off the day before to scout the territory ahead, looking for signs of hostile Indians, and had never returned. The settlers assumed he had been killed. Matt and Hank wise to the ways of local low life’s and con men figured the man had taken their money and abandoned his charges out in the middle of nowhere sure that they would never be heard from again. Unwilling to leave the green travelers to the mercy of the unforgiving wilderness, Hank suggested that Matt continue on to his sisters' and he would meet up with Matt again after escorting the wagon train through the dangerous country ahead until they got to Fort Courage and somebody else could take them the rest of the way to their destination. They were well into the Badlands when the Indians attacked. The small band of settlers was easily and completely overwhelmed and was captured without a fight.

Since Hank had been leading the wagon train and older and far wiser looking than any of the other members of the party, and with a little pointing and whispering by the terrified members of the wagon train, it had been assumed by their captors that he was their leader. So he had been taken away from the others and tied up in a big tepee under guard by two strong, young braves.

"And not bad specimens either," Hank thought to himself, eyeing the smooth, naked flesh of the two lean and well muscled warriors as they led him off, each holding one of his bulky biceps in a firm grip. He would have liked to see what those loin clothes they wore were hiding.

And now Hank found himself waiting, he was sure, to die. But he was ready. He had lived a full life, been loved and given love, and at the age of 50 if his time was up, so be it. But he had hoped to have more time with Matthew. The boy was still pretty green and still needed a little looking after.

When the tent flap opened and three braves led the way for an elder Indian, Hank assumed him to be the Chief of the tribe, he was sure it was the end.

From his position on the ground though, the older trail boss had a good view of what was up under the loincloths of the warriors standing over him. The two braves who had been guarding Hank stood on either side of the Chief, holding spears and watching their prisoner warily, confused by the lustful grin on his face.

They both had sizeable pieces of meat with drooping foreskins and almost hairless balls. One looked as if he might have a fledgling hard on.

A third stood just behind the tribe's leader. He was obviously younger than the other two, probably barely in his 20's. He stood just under 6 feet tall, his long black hair shone in the dim light seeping in through the smoke hole at the top of the tepee. The bearish pilgrim's eyes traveled down the young man's hard, lean body feasting on the taut, dark reddish skin which gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. His well muscled chest and flat stomach were a sight to behold. His eyes were drawn back to the dark almond shaped eyes which stared back at him just as intensely, feasting on Hank's wide, bulky body as he had on the muscular, young brave's. As the bearish pioneer was checking out the assets of the smooth skinned braves, the elder Chief began to speak, but it was a language he was not familiar with so Hank had no idea what the elderly tribal leader was saying. After the Chief had finished speaking the four men stared stonily down at their captive for a long time. Hank had no idea what was expected of him. Seeing the confused and expectant look on the old cowboy's face they younger brave began to speak.

"My father," the young Indian began his tone grave. "Would like to know why you have desecrated our sacred lands."

Hank was surprised by the young mans' use of English, and it showed on his face. "Yes," the young brave said. "I know your tongue. I was taught by an old Missionary who passed through our land many years ago. He taught me many things."

The young Brave said this last part while looking the big man over with equal interest and a bright lustful gleam in his eye.

The Chief spoke again. The young tawny brave again translated the mischievous look in his eye fading as he spoke.

"My father says that since you are the one who lead your people into our sacred lands and desecrated our venerable burial grounds, you must be the one to be punished." He had heard stories of the blood thirsty practices of the Indians in this territory. What were they going to do to him?! Hank swallowed a lump in his throat. Knotting up his courage Hank spoke to the Chief, knowing the muscular, young brave would translate for him.

"We did not mean any harm," his voice came out in a croak. Clearing his throat he continued. "It was a mistake. If you will let us go we will never enter your land again." "Your fellow trespassers have already been sent on their way. They traded their lives for yours. And since you are their leader, you will pay the price. Death." The young brave's voice seemed to stick in his throat as he said this.

Well so much for doin' a good deed, Hank thought sourly. His mind began to work on a plan of escape. He just hoped he had time.

And with that pronouncement the Chief of the tribe and his bodyguards left the tepee. The younger brave hesitated. Hank and the boy stared at each other. The young man finally darted quickly through the tent flap.

It was full dark when the boy returned, but this time he did not come in through the tent flap. Hank was surprised to hear the soft whisper of a knife slicing through the tent wall behind him and suddenly the young Indian brave was at his back.

"I am here to save you," the young man whispered urgently into Hanks ear. The feel of the young man's hot breath against his ear sent shivers down his body.

The stealthy brave sliced through the stocky, older mans bonds and gently led him across the dark tepee to the roughly cut opening and out into the dark, free open air. The boy had a horse waiting a few dozen yards away and he helped Hank up onto the beasts bare back and quickly swung himself up behind the older man, putting his arms around Hank's wide middle to grab the horse's reigns and urged it into a quick but quiet cantor away from the Indian village.

Hank was at first surprised by the familiarity of the young native but soon began to enjoy the feel of his strong arms and well muscled chest against his own thick body. The quick pace of the strong horse beneath them kept the two men’s bodies pressed tightly together. A light gallop on a strong horse had always given Hank a hard on and this time was no exception and the older man could tell that he was not the only one enjoying the ride as he felt his rescuers hardening flesh dig into his spine.

It was some time later that they stopped by a stream to give the horse a rest and a drink. It had been quite a while since the old trail hand had ate or drank anything and was quickly lying with his face in the cool water taking his fill. With his burning thirst quenched, Hank rolled onto has back to catch his breath. "So why did you save me?" Hank asked sitting up and looking at the young native, surprised to find him sitting so close to him that they were almost touching. Not that Hank objected. He leaned toward the dark skinned man until their shoulders rubbed against each other. The young man did not pull away. Hank nonchalantly dropped his hand onto the boy’s warm thigh.

The young man began softly. "The Missionary who came through our land many years ago was a man much like yourself, thick of flesh and hair like snow. My father gave me to the missionary to learn the ways of the white men that were crossing our lands. The holy man taught me many things and we grew to love each other. I stayed with him for many years learning from him and caring for him, until he got sick and died. After that I returned to my tribe, since I had nowhere else to go."

Hank put his arms around the boy as tears began to run down his face. "When I saw you in the tepee I felt as I did with Friar Reza. My heart soared and I knew I could not let you die. I tried to talk my father out of killing you, but he would not listen. If I go back now they will kill me too."

Hank took hold of the young man's chin and raised his face till they were eye to eye. "What do they call you?" He asked tenderly.

"I am called Wise Bear, for I am quick to learn and brave of heart."

"Well, Wise Bear," Hank said pulling the young man to him. "You can travel with me, if you like."

This seemed to make Wise Bear very happy and he put his arms around Hank hugging him fiercely. The hugging soon turned into a first tentative kiss, quickly becoming more ardent and urgent every second.

Out of the corner of his eye the elderly cowboy noticed that the young, dark skinned native's loin cloth was rising steadily as they held each other, kissing deeply. Hank couldn't resist pulling the flap of cloth away from the young Indian's crotch to reveal his swelling organ. "My God," Hank breathed hoarsely at the size of the young mans' erection. He could feel his own cock getting harder and harder in his jeans. He pulled Wise Bear over on top of him and they rolled on the cool grass fondling, exploring, licking, biting and kissing.

Wise Bear's strong nimble fingers were soon working the buttons on Hank's work shirt, exposing the thick thatch of curly, white hair on his chest and belly. Hank reached out and untied the knots that held the loin cloth around the young braves hips and tossed it aside.

The belt and zipper were harder for Wise Bear to figure out, for Friar Reza had only worn his monk’s robes and were removed easily. Hank showed him how they worked and they soon had all of the older trail boss's clothes off and they were naked in each others arms. Wise Bear was fascinated by Hank's hairy torso. Even Friar Reza had been smooth skinned. But the white hair that covered Hank's thick, round body from shoulders to ankles was soft and made Wise Bears skin tingle where it rubbed against him and he tried to make it rub all over him.

Hank on the other hand was enjoying the feel of the young brave’s taut, smooth burnished flesh. Even Matthew had a fine covering of down on his young, hard body. But Wise Bear was absolutely hairless from the neck down except for a fine feathery patch across his crotch.

And the long, dark hair that streamed from his head was soft and felt so good trailing over the older cowboys face and chest. Hank felt as if he could get happily lost in the long, silky strands.

The feel of the boy’s hard cock against his round belly felt as if a branding iron were wedged between their bodies. Hank ground his body hard against it, feeling the warmth radiate through his body.

And the feel of Hank's stubby, fat cock grinding into his lower belly was like nothing Wise Bear had ever felt before. They rolled over the cool ground one last time until Hank was on top of the young brave who was being pressed deeply into the soft earth by their combined weight. Hank's lips, teeth and tongue began to work their way over the young braves smooth, quivering body as his work roughened hands stroked and pinched the smooth, velvet flesh until he had reached Wise Bears aching cock. It all felt so good to the youthful warrior, Friar Reza had not made his body burn with such fire as this man was doing now. Even the feel of his round, bristly face against his tender thighs was wonderful. Wise Bear began babbling in his native tongue. Calling to his gods from passions thrall as the older man's tongue and lips enveloped his throbbing cock and caressed his aching balls with his thick, calloused fingers. Hank didn't understand what he was saying, but he was sure he agreed it all of it.

Hank wasn't sure at first if he would be able to accommodate the long, hard shank of meat, but as his ardor increased so did his determination and he soon had the shaft happily well down his willing gullet. And his thick, drooling tongue explored every inch of it including the deep, tangy hood of foreskin.

Wise Bear was running his fingers through the older man's thick silver hair, pulling his jowly face deeper into his crotch. It was becoming too much for the young redskin and he wanted to feel Hank deep inside him as he had not felt Friar Reza in so long. He needed the stocky cowboys cock up his ass now.

Hank intuitively knowing what the young brave wanted had released the hard bone like meat and began licking further down between the young man's legs until he had Wise Bears firm, muscular legs over his shoulder and his trim thighs spread high and wide. His own cock was throbbing so much it was starting to hurt.

His discerning tongue nipped and darted over the boy’s tight hole and licking his fingers managed to lube up his own hard dick. The stocky cowboy then maneuvered their bodies until he had his hard cock poised at the opening of the Braves firm, round ass. He looked at Wise Bear lying beneath him, his midnight black hair spread out around his head like and onyx halo. And the look on the young mans' face told the old trail boss that he was indeed ready. And Hank slowly impaled the young man with his burning hard cock, making them both cry out with joy in two different languages.

The young brave’s strong legs wrapped around the brawny trail hands wide, round body, gripping him tightly. As he drove deeper and deeper into the willing young man beneath him, Hank's hands and mouth continued to caress the boys smooth flesh increasing the pleasure for them both.

Wise Bear could feel Hank's large balls slapping against his ass over and over again. The novel feel of the cowhand’s hairy body was driving the young brave to the brink and taking Hank with him. Both men suddenly wrapped arms and legs around each other as their cries of joy echoed through the clear desert night. Hank felt the young brave’s wet discharge against his belly and suddenly he erupted deep within the native boys flexing hole. Their mouths came together in a final passionate meeting that left them both totally enervated.

Hank continued to stroke in and out of Wise Bears ass until the boy could no longer hold him inside. The held each other, Wise Bears smooth cheek against Hank's furry chest. Looking up at the moon the old cowboy had one final thought before joining his charge in sleep.

After their night of tender, but intense passion the two men awoke in each other’s arms. Hank loved the feel of the young Indian's smooth skin against his rough old hide. And he especially liked the sight of Wise Bear’s dark hued skin against his own pale flesh.

After a brisk wash in the stream and some more fondling, kissing and etc., the two men shared a meager breakfast from the pouch that the young brave had brought with him when they made their escape. They sat close to each other over the open campfire. "So, what do we do now, Kemo Sabe?" the dark skinned youth asked innocently. Hank squinted back at him in confusion. "Kemo Sabe? What the hell does that mean?" "Nothing really," Wise Bear replied with a shy smile on his face. "But that is what my cousin Tonto calls his white man boyfriend and he seems to like it, so I thought I would try it on you."

"The name is Hank." The old trail boss replied dryly. "But to answer your question, I thought we just follow the stream for a while; see where it goes till we get our bearings." And soon they set off, leading their horse to keep it from getting too tired. "I wonder how Matthew is doing on his own out on the trail?" Hank thought to himself as they walked.

He was soon to find out that Matthew had an equally exciting adventure of his own.