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The Bounty Hunters
To POW, who edited this story The day had been
hot and airless, but now David, looking at the sky, could see banks of black
clouds moving fast over his head. It was going to rain: a heavy storm coming
from the North. Just his luck: this barren land hadn’t felt a single drop of
water for weeks and now it was going to get drenched. David was looking for
shelter, but he couldn’t see any. He went on, swearing. He couldn’t light a
fire if it rained, and in less than one hour it would be dark. There were
wolves in this area, a lot of them. They would come down from the
forest at night. Shit! He needed to find a place where he and his horse could
stop for the night, but the empty grassland seemed never-ending. The
mountains and the large forest were near, but not near enough. The first drops
fell a few minutes later and soon it was pouring. David swore again and
pressed on. He was completely wet and night was falling when he saw, far
away, some old buildings. It was dark when he
reached them, but the flashes of lightning showed him the way. It was an old
farm, but the house had collapsed completely and only the barn was still
standing. When he reached the
farm, David stepped down out of the saddle, took the horse's reins in his
hand and led him to the barn, which seemed to offer shelter. David opened the
door of the big barn slowly and peered inside through the small crack of the
exposed doorway. He was certain that no one was around, but he preferred to
be cautious. It was pitch-dark in the barn. David listened. No noises. He
nodded and entered, leading his horse. A sudden flash of lightning showed him
the barn: the upper part of a wall was missing. The barn was empty. David tended the
horse, then pissed in a corner and sat on the dusty floor. He was tired. He
had been on the trail for many days and he looked and smelled like it. He had
come from The rain slowly
began to let up. The night sky was clearing and giving way to a full moon.
David fell asleep in the barn. He woke up with a
start around midnight: in his sleep he had heard a long wailing cry. The
wolves were approaching. David lighted the lamp and checked the barn: the
door was closed and in the lower part of the walls there were no holes
through which a wolf could enter. The horse was
neighing. David took his
rifle. The wolves couldn’t enter, but it never hurt to be prepared. The hunting-cries
drew closer. The horse was frantic. David tried to soothe him. He could hear
the wolves outside the barn. Then, suddenly, the
pack went away, the noises became distant and the silence reigned again on
the prairie. David caressed his horse and went back to sleep. David woke up in
the morning, refreshed from the sleep. He went out, hoping to find a drinking
trough to wash himself and his clothes in while his horse was grazing. No
trough, only some mud. Shit! David didn’t mind being dirty and stinking, but
after all those days, he felt he was dirtier and smelt worse than a pig. The sky was
cloudless and David liked the feeling of the sun on his skin, so he stripped
naked and lay on the dirt, while his horse was eating some grass. David was
almost fifty, a tall, strong, heavily built man, overweight, with grey hair
and beard, a thick cock and heavy hairy balls. He was the best shot in the When his horse was
ready, David headed westward, for Badsource. He
stopped often to look around, cautiously. He didn’t like the openness of the
prairie, where he could be seen from far away. But he had to reach the town,
which wasn’t too much farther: there he hoped to find Bart. In his last
message, left at the saloon in Deepwater, Bart wrote he was going there. When he was near
the mountains, he came down into a valley. He knew the little river that
headed towards Badsource. He stopped to fill his
water-bottle. Suddenly he heard the thud of hoofs on soft earth: a
rider approaching. He hid among the trees and lifted his carbine to his
shoulder. The rider appeared: it was Bart, coming back from the town. David
stepped out, allowing himself to be seen. Bart told him the Butcher was
not far away, so they rode and didn’t stop until night, following a path in
the forest. They hadn’t seen
each other for two years and they exchanged news. Bart wasn’t satisfied with
his life, always lacking money. David knew that Bart liked gambling and was
always spending more than he could afford. So Bart had decided to hunt
the Butcher as a good way of solving his problems. David chuckled. - If we find him,
you won’t have money problems for a long time. But if he finds us...
hell, you won't have no money problems then, neither! Bart laughed. - You're a son of
bitch, David! They slept in the
forest between some rocks that offered shelter for them and for the horses.
They lit a fire. David did the first watch, Bart the second one. When David
and Bart met, they always fucked, but the Butcher was too close and there
were too many wolves: better to wait. The night was
quiet: the wolves stayed away. The fire made them keep their distance;
besides, there was plenty of other prey in the forest. In the morning,
they ate and had some coffee. They sat sipping it in silence. David looked at
Bart. Bart was younger, a strong man, but not as big as David. David liked
him, he liked his strong, muscular ass. Fucking Bart was great. He felt his
cock stiffening. He had to wait, he knew. In the afternoon
they found some traces: four or five horses rode on a path leading to a
secluded valley. They rode on, following the path. In the late
afternoon something in the distance caught David’s eye. They dismounted and
drew their guns. Tethering their horses in the wood, they walked slowly
forward a hundred yards, until they reached some bushes from where they could
see five men: the Butcher and his gang. They were resting around a fire,
unaware of the danger menacing them. Only one man seemed to keep guard, with
two revolvers in his belt. David spoke in a
whisper: - I kill the one
standing, you take the one on the left, near the horses. Bart nodded: he
wasn’t as good as David at shooting, but he knew he could kill his target. They shot almost at
the same instant. A hole appeared between the standing man's eyes, his head
went backwards in a spray of blood and skull and brains, he spun around and
fell on the fire, without a sound. The man near the horses yelled and a red
spot appeared on his shirt, on the right side. He fell to his knees. The other men
jumped, but a second shot from David hit one of them right in the heart. He
grunted and fell. Only two men now:
the Butcher and a second one. David always saved the best target for last. He
wanted to enjoy himself. The two survivors
hid behind some rocks before David and Bart could shoot again. David
spoke, still keeping his voice low: - Split up. You go
down on that side, I'll take this one. They moved quickly. David reached a
point from where he could see the two men. They had their guns and they were
looking around, trying to understand where they opponents were. David was
very near, now, but they weren’t looking in his direction. David aimed and
fired. The Butcher’s last man took the slug in his back. David could hear the
distinct sound of the shattering bone. The Butcher turned
in a fit of rage, but before he could fire he was dropped by two quick shots
from David’s gun, right in his belly. The Butcher fell,
swearing and cursing. He still held his gun in his hands, but David aimed
again. The bullet pierced the Butcher’s hand. David shouted to
Bart that they there was no more need for stealth. He approached the Butcher,
his thick dick straining his leather britches as he looked at the wounded
killer. The Butcher was
lying in a pool of blood, turning the dirt into red-stained mud. He was
groaning and swearing at him. - Time to die, shitbag! Bart was arriving.
He didn’t want to miss the show. David turned the
Butcher on his back with a violent kick. Then he unbuckled the Butcher’s belt
and lowered his pants, exposing his hairy belly and his big cock. He pressed
his gun against the Butcher’s right nut. The Butcher looked at him, hate in
his eyes. He cursed him loudly: - Yew son of a
bitch! Fuckin' bastard! David laughed. - Here we go! He fired. The nut
exploded in a spray of tissue and blood. The Butcher yelled and David felt
his scream like a hand caressing his cock. He grunted. He pressed the gun
against the other nut. - Fuc...kin... ba…stard! Son… - You already said
that! David laughed and
he squeezed the trigger. The Butcher
screamed and his face became so pale that David thought he was going to
faint. But he didn’t. - Son…of…. The third bullet
destroyed the dickhead. David turned the body.
He pushed the gun until the barrel was against the asshole. The Butcher
tensed. David pushed again and the barrel entered the ass. The Butcher
groaned. David’s head was swimming with lust, his ballsac
almost aching and his cock dripping. David fired three
times. The Butcher grunted only once. David took the gun
out of the Butcher’s ass. He was breathing heavily. Then he stood
there, looking at his completed work, the smoking gun in his hand, a smile of
triumph on his lips and a raging hard cock in his pants. He stripped,
completely. His big cock slammed against his belly. He went to his
horse. Bart waited. He knew what David was going to do. Dan brought their
horses to the camp. Then he drew his big knife from his saddle and he bent
down by the Butcher’s side. He grabbed the head by the hair and he plunged
the blade deep into the neck. Then, moving the knife, he severed the head
from the body. He lifted the head,
showing it to Bart, his hands red with blood up to the wrist. - This head is
worth ten thousand dollars. He laughed. Bart
laughed, too. Then he let the
head drop and said, in a low, hoarse voice. - Come here, Bart.
I want to fuck you on this shit. Bart smiled. This
was how it always went. They liked fucking on their prey's corpses. Bart stripped and
he approached. David kissed him and he drove Bart down onto the Butcher’s
corpse. David spat on his
asshole, then he forced his way in. Bart grunted: David’s cock was the best
he ever felt and he liked it, but it was always painful. David began pumping
and driving deeper, humping furiously, his heavy hairy balls slamming and
swinging. He fucked Bart for a long time. They didn’t say a word. They
groaned, grunted, moaned, until David spewed his semen into Bart’s aching
ass. Then he stood up,
contemplating the corpses. Bart found a bottle
of whiskey and tossed it to David, who promptly caught it. He drank greedily
from it and a stream of liquid escaped his lips and trickled down his chin.
He cleaned it with the back of his big hand. - Good. I needed
that. He drank again. He
laughed. He farted, loudly. He laughed again. He was intoxicated with the
hunting, the challenge, the killing, the blood, the fucking, the whiskey. He
stood naked, looking at the Butcher’s headless corpse, at the other four
men’s corpses, at the blood. His cock was stiffening again. He was going to
fuck Bart a second time. A third, perhaps. He laughed again. - Turn around,
David! David obeyed. Bart
was standing in front of him, naked, his two guns in his hands. - Ready, David? David looked at
Bart. He knew his friend wasn’t joking, he could read it in his eyes, but he
didn’t understand. The consciousness of his impending death sobered him. And
suddenly he realised: Bart had second thoughts about sharing the reward with
him. - You want the
money… Shit! - That's right.
It’s enough to set me up for life. Hell, it's enough to start me a
whole brand new life, put an end to this one… hey, speaking of putting an end
to an old life... He waggled the guns. - And you're going to
kill me for the goddamn money?! After I killed them all for you… Bart smiled. - Yes, David. For
the money and for the fun, too. - For the fun? What
the fuck… David was raging.
He would have strangled Bart. He could have jumped on him, he was so close, but
Bart was quick and he knew he'd be shot before he could get there. David looked at
Bart. He wasn’t afraid. He had always known that sooner or later he would be
killed. He had never thought that Bart would be the one to do it, but it
didn’t matter. - OK, shitbag. You know where the heart is. Bart laughed. - The heart? I want
to have some fun. I’ll kill you as you killed the Butcher. David spat on
Bart’s face. He could see the saliva sliding along his right cheek and the
tension in Bart’s face. Then he felt the
gun pressing against his belly, just under the navel. - Time to get
started, David! Sweat glistened on
David’s skin, little drops shining in the sun on his hairy belly and chest. The shot and the
pain exploded in David’s belly. The bullet tore through him and blew a hole
in his right ass-cheek. David took a step back, the wind knocked out of him.
He ground his teeth and he said: - Fuck, shitbag! Bart approached, an
evil leer on his face. He moved the gun up
a little, smiled and pressed the trigger. David felt the wave of pain and the
burning. It was hell. He staggered back again. - Shit! You are a
shit! The barrel against
his belly again, low, and the fire burning again, while the heavy bullet
punched his way through his intestines. David grunted, twice. He lowered his
head, then he looked at Bart. He spat again. The fourth bullet
went through his navel and punched out through his back. Bart staggered. He
was going to fall, but he didn’t want to. - Shit! Bart didn’t say
anything. He smiled and fired, tension in his face and in his cock. The fifth bullet in
his belly almost knocked David down, but he fought to keep his balance. He
knew he was going to collapse. Then the sixth
slug. He saw the long flame like a tongue from Bart’s Colt. He fell on his
knees, unable to stand anymore. A violent kick sent him over the Butcher’s
corpse. He lay there on his back. He felt like he was drowning. Bart kneeled. Bart’s gun was
pressing against David’s right nut. - You… are… a shit…
Bart. Bart laughed again.
He looked deep into David’s eye as he pressed the trigger once more, he saw
them widen ad the hot lead exploded the ball. David yelled. A
strong, long yell. David was cursing
while Bart pressed the gun against David left nut. - You.. shit,
stupid asshole… you… Bart watched as
David’s eyes stared back, filled with hate and pain. He fired. David yelled
again. The barrel of the
gun pressed against David’s cock, just at the base. David screamed: - Don’t! Bart laughed and he
fired. David screamed for
the last time, his huge cock almost completely severed from his body. Bart kicked David’s
body, turning him on his belly. David felt the
barrel of the gun pressing against his asshole. He was going to die in the
same way he killed so many outlaws. Bart, the man whose life he saved so many
times, was killing him. - Fuck you, Bart! Three bullets,
entering his asshole and going out through his belly. David grunted. He
wasn’t dead, yet. Bart stood in front
of him. He laughed. David was slowly
bleeding. He felt cold, now, except in his belly: the fire was burning in his
guts. He coughed and grunted, softly. Bart was preparing
to leave. He heard the sound
of boots approaching. Now he could see in the dim light Bart’s black boots in
front of him, but it was difficult to focus his eyes. He couldn’t lift his
head. He felt his anger against Bart. - I'm leaving,
David. Going. Leaving him
there to bleed to death. David didn’t want to linger there. He wanted to die.
He pleaded: - Finish… me off…
Bart. Bart laughed. - The wolves will
finish you off. Plenty of them, here. If you're lucky, they'll eat your
corpse and shit it in the forest. - Lucky...? - Yeah.
'Cause if not, you won't be a corpse by the time they start eating. - You’re… a… shit. David felt the piss
running on his head. Bart’s boots turned
and went away. David heard the
galloping of the horses fade away. He was still alive,
unable to move. How many bullets did he have in his body? Twelve. He wanted to die. The night was
coming. He could hear a wolf howling. One by one other wolves joined him,
till a whole pack was howling its hunger cry. They were
approaching. There was plenty of food for them. |
