The Last Ride
To
Yagov Sangria, who edited the story Late August and hot like hell. A
scorching, windy, dirty afternoon. The shadows of the clouds run over the hills.
Far away, the sky is pitch dark. The rain will come, but not today, tomorrow,
perhaps. Today the world is a dried pit in a burnt summer. We
are riding through a thirsty land. Everywhere, grasshoppers. The creeks are
all dried-up. At distant places, I can see fences, cattle, ranches, but there
isn’t a living soul to be seen. My
arse is aching. Too much riding. Four hours of
riding through this desolate land. Finally,
I can see the little ranch. Here we’ll stop, here I’ll dig my grave, here Joe
will kill me, here I’ll rest forever, under this scorched land. The
thought of what is going to happen arouses me; my throbbing cock is straining
against my jeans. Now I am in a visible mood to ride, but not a horse. I need
a nice, juicy bareback ride. Joe’ll give me what I
need, like he did a lot of times. Joe’ll give me
everything I need, tonight and tomorrow: a large cock into my arse, two strong hands cuddling me, seven or eight
bullets into my belly. I
am asking myself if it is true, but it is. A dream comes true. I am going to
die and I cannot avoid it, but it won’t be the illness to seize me. I don’t
want to die a natural death. I want to die as a man, as I dreamed of a lot of
times, the fire burning my guts. We
lead the horses into the stable. Joe takes care of both of them. There are
three more horses in the stable and I can smell the strong odor of their
piss. I know I’ll spend here my last night, but the sun is not down yet. The
kitchen is not large. A wooden table, three chairs, a cupboard, a leather
armchair, worn as an old saddle. I
open the fridge. I am not hungry, but I am dying with thirst. I take two cold
beers. Two beers for two bears. You smile. It’s an old joke, it’s the last
time I tell it. Two more beers. We
go upstairs. In the bedroom the sheets are perfectly clean. I hate dirty
sheets. We undress, smiling. I look at Joe’s
body that I know so well. You are beautiful, Joe. Not like an
actor: Brad Pitt hasn’t your large, hairy belly, your big, hairy ass, your
strong jaw, that your gray beard doesn’t hide. Brad Pitt hasn’t your thick
cock and your large nuts. You couldn’t be Romeo on the stage, but you are the
most beautiful specimen of bear I know. And I love you, Joe. We
go for our last bedroll. For the last time, I feel Joe’s big cock entering my
ass. And I know that it’s my killer’s cock. It’s good, yes it’s
good. For the last time in our lives we are fucking. * We
lay on the bed, after our last fucking. I press your big, hairy body between
my arms. It is going to end soon, very soon. I can hear the steps on the
stairs and before you realize what’s happening, they enter. -
Here they are. Get up, you, faggots! Two strong men: Vincenzo
and another one, that I don’t know. Each of them has a .44 in his hand and a
second one into his holster. You
are astonished, you don’t understand. Yes, I arranged everything, but not
exactly like we planned. Vincenzo pulls
out his handcuffs and cuffs your wrists behind your back. Then he does the
same with me. I
smile. When
I rescued a child from a burning car, twenty years ago, I didn’t know that I
was saving my murderer. It
is useful to know a gangster, I don’t think I could arrange everything like I
did without Vincenzo. With him I am completely sure
that everything will be exactly as I asked. -
Downstairs! We
go downstairs, then through the door. We are outside, now. The sun is going
down. Our last sunset: the sky is red between the dark clouds of the incoming
storm. They
lead us into the stable. There are seven horses in it, now. They
tie each of us to a pole, a few feet apart. They
go away. They close the stable. They’ll eat, they’ll sleep. For them today is
a normal day.
They let us here without a word.
It is dark in the stable, very dark. You haven’t said a word, but now, I
hear your voice. -
What the hell does it mean? You know it, but you don’t want to
admit it. -
An execution. It was what we wanted, wasn’t it? -
Don’t pull my leg. You don’t mean they are going to kill you, too, do you? I
guffaw. I know you are bewildered, but you’ll understand it and you’ll accept
it. You only need some time. -
I know that you would prefer to be the leading actor of the play, but you
know, I don’t like to be put into the shade. You’ll have to share the stage
with me. -
Shit, Joe, you haven’t a cancer. It’s crazy. Stop this crap! -
This crap? I have spent a lot of time, and money, too, for this and
you call it crap? Your words are really offensive. With you, I always have my
labor for my pains. I
laugh again. -
Shit, Joe! Shit! Shit! Shit! You
are completely pissed off. I wait, until your grumble stops. I know you’ll agree.
I know you, Luke, I know your black side and on my body there are the scars
it left. And on your body my dark side left many scars, too. Our love has
always been stronger that our fascination with agony and death, but now death
is coming and it will be as we dreamt. -
Killing you, it’s O.K., Luke, but I prefer to be killed with you… -
Joe, I… I
interrupt you. -
Stop! If you were in my place, you would do the same. And you would do it,
because it’s what you really want, what we both really want. Now, Luke, stow
it. We are waiting to be executed, like we dreamt a lot of time, and this
time it is real. I am enjoying it, fully. I am happy thinking that tomorrow
I’ll see you dying and you’ll see me dying. Luke, you know you want to see me
get killed. And I want to see your agony. A long, painful one. -
Shit! I
don’t reply. You are surrendering, you know that everything is for the best. There
is a silence. A long one. Then I hear your voice again. -
And after two beers, I cannot even piss. -
Why? Are you afraid of making a bad impression on your murderer? Tomorrow
you’ll be a corpse. Clean or wet with piss or even shit, it’s the same. -
Shut up, It isn’t that, ass! -
So what? -
My cock is too hard to piss. I
laugh. I know that your facetious smile is back in place. -
Fuck off, asshole. We
are both laughing, now. * Morning.
Our last, brief, morning. A dim light in the stable. The stench of piss is
stronger. We
spent the night speaking, remembering, laughing, fighting with our erections. The
hour is coming. The door of the stable opens and they enter. -
Get up! We
obey. No choice. My cock is hard, Joe’s too. Heavy,
black clouds fill the sky. The wind is blowing. It’ll rain, soon, very soon. They
give a shovel to Joe and they point to a place in the yard, where the trough
was. Joe begins to dig. When we’ll be dead, they’ll put our corpses into the
grave, they’ll fill it and they’ll put the trough back: the trough will hide
our tomb, it’ll be our grave-stone. Joe is digging.
Shovelfuls of dirt go out of the hole. He is strong, he is powerful, soon
he’ll be dead. I have a huge hard-on. In
this dark morning Joe is sweating profusely. I don’t sweat very much, I am
not working. -
Stop. One
of the men points at me. I take the shovel from Joe’s hands. He smiles at me
and I smile at him. His magnificent cock is hard. I begin to work. Now I am
sweating. -
It’s enough. Yes, it’s enough. The grave is deep
enough for two corpses. For our two corpses. There
is the thrill of alarm, but also an increasing genuine pleasure in my heart.
Just now. Just now. In no time our execution will begin. It will be a rough,
bruising death, the death we always longed for. We
look at each other, we smile. One
of the men cuffs my wrists behind my back, then he does the same with Joe. Suddenly, they push us roughly and
we fall. We are lying on the ground, now.
I
don’t understand immediately, but one of the man forces me to open my legs. I
look at Joe. The other man is on him, he is opening his pants. I realize. The
cock enters into my arse. Yes, it is good being
fucked in the arse one last time, just before
dying, to be fucked by two strong men, with large, strong cocks. It is good
being fucked by your murderers. There is a blast of
light and thunder and, suddenly, the downpour begins. A sheet of rain wraps
us up. We are already soaked. - Get up! “Get up, get up”, he
always says the same words, but they have a lot of meanings. Now they mean:
“Get up and face your death”. It is now. Now the
bullets, the pain, the agony. Now. * We are standing in face of our
murderers, our backs against the wall of the stable, under the torrential
rain. I look at you. A welling up of panic seizes you, I read it in your
eyes, in your big stomach heaving in and out. It’s one thing to talk of
dying, but it’s another thing to die. But
the panic subsides and you manage to smile. I smile, too, but my heart is racing. My cock is as hard as
stone, but something is stirring into my guts. I
look at Vincenzo, at his guns. He is extracting
them from the holster, he is aiming them at me. My
breath stops. From these revolvers death will come, soon, very soon. I cannot
stop it. I
don’t want to stop it. Yes,
this is really what I want. Yes, it is. Euphoria runs through my body. This
time, no blank rounds, this time it is real. This time it is my blood, it is
my death. The
first round hits you in your guts, just under the belly button. It’s great,
it’s great. The pain on your face, the shuddering of your big body, your
mouth opening, blood and rain on your skin. Your agony has began. The
second round is for me, I know it, and my body is tense, I am waiting for the
live round that will begin my death. I look at Vincenzo
and I smile. Shit! The pain is excruciating and
violent. The impact almost throws me against the wall. Shit! It was real,
yes, it is real. Blood pouring out of my belly, mixing with the rain, the fire
burning my guts. Shit! It is terrible. It is beautiful. It is great. More,
more of it. The
third round is for you and it reaches you on the left side of your belly. A
bubble of blood explodes from the wound. Your face is distorted in a grimace
of pain, your hard on is receding. Mine isn’t. The
fourth round is for me. It opens my flesh just at the side of my hard cock. I
gasp in pain, my belly is a volcano and I feel lava running into my innards,
but my cock becomes even more rigid. The hell is burning in my belly. The
devil is devouring my guts. I
brace myself. * It
is like a claw in my guts, a claw that is tearing my flesh. The
third bullet enters my belly. I am breathing hard. I am dying. I don’t know
if it is a dream or a nightmare, but it is what I wanted, what we
wanted. I
look at Joe. I like seeing his face distorted in agony when a bullet tears
his belly. It is good. Three bullets into his guts, three into mine. Yes, it
is good. It is good seeing Joe’s death. He
is still standing, but I know him. He is steel-nutted.
He has a huge hard-on, really magnificent. His endurance of pain is
unbelievable, he is really strong: his agony will be longer. This is good. I
know it is what he wants. I
take my fourth bullet just above my navel. My body is numb, now. I cannot
stand any more. The world begins to roll and only when I hit the ground, the
pain in the belly shakes me and I realize I fell. My
killer approaches and then disappears behind me. I feel something hot and
hard against my asshole. It is not a cock; it’s too rigid and it is too hot.
It’s the barrel through which four bullets entered my gut. The
man sticks the barrel of his pistol deep into my ass. It’s good. The last
bullets, the end approaching. I
turn my head, I look at Joe. I want to see his agony. You are still standing, Joe, in front of
the wall. Yes, you are really steel-nutted, but I
know you: you won’t die with your nuts. I know you, Joe. * It’s good seeing your body stretched on
the dirt, a barrel going deep into your big, hairy ass. It’s good knowing you
are going to die. I
see Vincenzo smiling and again the shot and the
bullet come together. This time the bullet goes exactly through my navel. I
scream. -
Aaaah! It’s
a short scream, that I manage to stifle. I
don’t fall, I don’t want to fall, even if I know that I’ll fall, even if I am
waiting for the moment my legs won’t bear my weight. I
brace against the force bending me, pressing me. I struggle, even if I know
it is useless, even if the pain is increasing. I want more pain. It isn’t
enough. I
receive my sixth bullet My
innards are burning, a large flame is devouring them. My
legs fold and I find myself kneeling in front of my killer. I manage to lean my
back against the wall and I wait. There is such a pleasure of anticipation in
this waiting. There is something more for me,
something I didn’t tell you, something I often dreamt of. I look at your tired smile. Death is
coming, Luke, soon it’ll come through the barrel warming up your ass. Vincenzo
kneels in front of me. We are both on our knees, now, but Vincenzo’s
hands are free and he has a gun, my hands are tied behind my back and I have
six bullets in my belly. I wouldn’t swap places with him, even if I know that
I would enjoy his role. Vincenzo is enjoying it, I
can see it on his face. But my role is better, far better. Vincenzo looks
at me, he is waiting for a signal. He thinks I could have changed my mind.
But I wink at him. He nods. Vincenzo press
the barrel of the gun against my hard cock. I feel the hot barrel, from where
the bullets came, that are now in my belly, from where three other bullets
will soon come. And it happens. I have six bullets in my guts, but it happens:
from my nuts a pleasure rises, higher and higher, and I shoot a great load of
hot cum all over my bloody belly. Cum and blood mix with the rain. Cum and blood, pleasure and pain,
humiliation and death. Vincenzo
smiles and when the jism finally stops, he presses
the trigger. A
bullet pierces my cockhead, almost severing it, and enters my belly. The pain
increases. I open my mouth, I gasp for breath, but I inhale only a fire
burning my lungs. My innards are a large flame and the pain is beyond
endurance. But it is not enough. My belly is full of lead. I am quite
heavy, but I become heavier at every shot.
The barrel is now pressing on my right nut. I look at my doomed nut,
at the barrel. I chose it, but my body recoils from it. I don’t want it.
Really? I want it, yes, I want it, I am anticipating it. I want it, I want to
feel it. I’ll feel it soon, now. The pain explodes, I close my eyes, I
grunt. When I can open my eyes, I look at Vincenzo
through the tears. I look down. The barrel is pressing against my other nut.
No, against my only nut.
The pain explodes again, I scream, I almost faint. I am not a man,
now. I am an ox waiting for the final shot. Yes, now the pain is enough. Vincenzo put one of his large hands on the back of my
neck and he drags my body to the dirt. Pain, pain. I am not a man, just an ox
lying in the mud, waiting for death. I
look at you. Some
blood is drooling from your mouth, a bullet has hit one of your lungs. You are loosing
consciousness, you are in your death throes, but you manage to smile and you
say: - Always steel-nutted…
but no… more nuts! I try to smile back, but my face
refuses. I nod. I feel again the barrel of entering
my ass. The barrel is pressing against my innards, it’s good. I say: -
It’s good… this hard barrel… in my ass, hard like… your cock. One, two, three bullets, going through
your innards up to your heart and your lungs. You wince, twice, your head gets
up and then down, once and for all down. There is no motion now in your body,
there is no life. You are dead. Yes, you are
dead, you are a corpse. You came to a bad end, the end you craved for. My end
is near too, but there are the last steps, before entering darkness. The men take your
corpse, they uncuff your wrists. They turn your
corpse, belly up. There is mud on your belly, mud and blood, but the rain is
washing it. They take you
over the grave, then they let you fall. You are in the
grave, where you’ll wait for me. It won’t be long, one minute or two, only. Vincenzo is back. He holds his gun. - Vincenzo? - Yeah? - You are… a
great fucker! - Yeah! No more words. I
have said enough. - So long, Joe! I can feel that
the barrel of the gun in my ass is strongly inclined: the bullets will get
through my belly and not up to the heart. Death is very near. He squeezes the
trigger, once, twice, three times. A fire explodes
in my ass, pain, pain, pain for the ox. I am still
living, when he extracts the barrel. I am still
living, when Vincenzo uncuffs
my wrists and turns me belly up. In a whirlpool of
pure pain, my belly ablaze, my eyes almost blind, I wait for the last
humiliation before the end. It is raining,
but the stream that now begins to fall on my face, my mouth, my eyes, it is
not the rain. They are pissing onto the ox. When they stop
pissing, Vincenzo and the other man take my body,
they drag it to the grave, they turn it on the belly and let it fall. I fall onto your
body. It’s still warm. We’ll lie in this grave, our corpse rotting together,
in the last embrace. A bullet, a new
pain in my ass – is there place for more bullets, for more pain? Yes, there
is – a second bullet and a third. Then the bullets
in my back, exploding my lungs and my heart. Darkness.
Darkness. Nothing. |
