~From: rpaladin@ix.netcom.com (Richard Fischer)
~To: robin@backdrop.com (Robin)
~Date: Thu, 15 Feb 1996 03:22:26 -0800
~Subject: Max 8
 
This is another story from my imagination. If you do not 
appreciate such, don't take offense. Just go on to the next 
posting.
 
If you are under age or immature forget the following.
 
 
If you are offended by non consensual sex, violence, S&M ... 
ETC then go on to the next posting.
 
 
              You have been warned!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                       Max's Cafe # 8
                        by Paladin
 
 
 
Down stairs old George and the queers had just about settled on a 
price for old Bruce's services.
 
George though, with an eye to the future video market had, 
with a straight faced, told them that they had to put Bruce 
'in the mood', by wear cowboy duds, using whips and such shit.
 
He had explained that Bruce was a theater arts major from a 
big city college, who did this scene for fun and to put himself 
through college. George further explained,
 
"But you see he gets so tired of it, day in and day out, same old 
same old. But he needs his fire lit. Now you boys look like you 
could be just the type to make his day. Decked out in the right 
kind of garb."
 
John said, "Well as long as it isn't too kinky. I mean we do have 
our standards you know." John looked over at his partner for 
confirmation.
 
Roy smiled and nodded back at his little buddy.
 
"Well then the price just gone up." George demanded. "If'n I got 
to go do the stirring up well..." Shaking his head to signify he 
wasn't enlightening old Bruce.
 
"Now wait a minute. Partner. We had a deal." Roy demanded.
 
"Then you'll going to have to go with the flow." George related.
 
"Well long as you say he need it. I don't really see no harm, Roy." 
John said shyly.
 
"Yea well OK I'll go along, long as he goes for it." Roy said 
indicating his lover.
 
"Now you'll got to wear these here cowboy duds and that is all 
you'll be a wearing." George spoke snidely.
 
"What?? Why isn't what we got on good enough?" demanded Roy 
indicating his stylish leather outfit.
 
"Cause Bruce don't go for just any stud muffen. He goes for his 
kind of cowboys. With leather chaps and then dangly spurs, pink 
hats and shit like that there." George instructed, "Why you think 
he stays here to do his tricking? ..... Cowboys..... So you have to 
dress up like..."
 
"Wait a minute... Roy we look plumb ridiculous." John said 
dejected when he saw the garb old George produced from under the 
bar. The Chaps, made of vinyl, were all glittered up with sparkles 
and the boots, also of vinyl, had pointie toes, and sparkles too.
 
"This just won't do." Roy demanded. "This ain't real cowboy 
stuff. This is soda cowboy stuff. We'll look plumb ridiculous. 
Ain't you got something better?"
 
"Well Their is some real stuff, chaps, vests and shits out back.  
If'n I rent ya.... no Max'ud kill me, I let you'll run off with his 
stock. I mean... no na I can't do it." George played them 
along, (anything for an extra buck).
 
"Look let us just *RENT* the good stuff from you and you keep the 
proceeds. Now that would be fair." Roy observed.
 
"Ya well, whats to stop you'll from running off with the hole 
remuda when you'se done with Bruce. No Na I can't take the 
chance....Unless.... NA..." George related with a shake of his 
head.
 
"We rent um from you and give you a guarantee. What kind of 
guarantee you need?"  John asked anxious to get to the fun..  
 
Old George observed that his new customers were by now three 
legged men. He had um now he sank in the barbed hook.
 
"Well I'll do the deal if'n you'll leave your own duds on the bunk 
house fence as a sign of good faith that you'll return the shits 
when you be done with old Burce."

"You mean we go in with the cowboy duds and you hold on to our 
own clothes as guarantee?" Roy asked skeptically.
 
"No sir. I don't want to hold your clothes. .... Just put um on 
the fense there where I can see um and be sure you ain't stealing 
the good cowboy duds." George demanded.
 
"Well I don't know... Roy..." John quizzed his partner.
 
"Anything for you Jonnie you know.. that. After all it is your 
day." Roy said.
 
"Shit we drove plumb out here and I got my horn up for this 
sucker so .. Yea we'll do 'er." John decided with a flourish.
 
The two men went out back to divest themselves of their leather 
clothes and then they started to put on the real Cowboy duds. 
Shortly they noticed a slight problem. Their were vests, chaps, boots 
with spurs and pink cowboy hats all right, but no pants and the 
clothes were old and had seen better days. They also were sweat 
stained and frayed.
 
Outraged John strode back into the bar and confronted old George in 
his red silk briefs only. His dick outlined vividly his desire to 
get on with it.
 
"What in tarnation do you spect us to do like this?' John 
demanded. Roy slunk in behind his partner, nodding his head. He 
had his hands crossed in front of his sex but he was obviously in 
heat for the encounter, or was it the sight or his lovers ass?
 
"Well hell man I didn't know you was going to go trapsing all 
over the place, Man don't point that thing in here. Max runs a 
family place in here. You'll go get out there and see old 
Bruce." George demanded keeping the queers from behind the bars.
 
<Dang fools! Why can't they get on out there and get to er. Now I 
have to back up the tape again to start. Max hates to waste the 
taping of these things.>
 
"But their ain't no pants in them smelly duds, man." John explained.
 
George looked incredulously at the pair and said.
 
"Pants??? Pants?? What do you need pants for man? You'll shy or 
something? I thought you'se was interested in some old in and out 
with old Brucie there. Now get on with it or get out. How the hell 
you going to do the dirty with boots on and your panties down round your 
ankles. Get on out of here and take off the panties, shit. I 
done told you old Bruce likes the cowboy stuff. Now got on with 
it! He'll just melt at the sight of those dicks." George had to 
turn away to hide the mirth in his face.
 
The pair of fruits looked at each other and saw the twisted logic 
of it. With slouching shoulders they went out back, removed the 
last of their own clothes and donned the abbreviated cowboy garb. 
They carefully folded their own clothes and placed them neatly on 
the bunk house fence. Squaring their shoulders they observed a 
stick out appendage that rairly saw the light of day.
 
"Well John the chaps sure do set off that old log of your'n." 
Roy said getting into the spirit of the thing. The sight of his 
partners penis poking out from the chaps and casting a shadow on 
the worn black leather boots was plumb dick hardening to him.
 
"You don't look half bad your self Roy." John observed. "I guess 
that old boy back there did have something bout these cowboy 
duds. Why if I did not know you, I'd fall for you all over 
again. Cow boy all the way." 
 
The pair presented old George with quite a sight as they hobbled 
to the little shack where Bruce was kept. The pair of them in high 
heal boots, with spurs, chaps, leather vests and pink cowboy 
hats was ...... well different. It was also recorded for a future 
video by the hidden cameras and tape machine. Old George while 
viewing this, had tears in his eyes. These old boys were going to 
really light old Bruce's day. <Hell these is going to be easy. 
The fools.>
 
******************************************
 
Bruce was imprisoned in the little shack, out back, naked, just 
like the girls inside the cafe. A wide collar around his neck 
hat was attached to the wall. (Old Max did not show any sex 
difference to his pleasure employees.)
 
The door opened and two men entered with their logs stiff. This 
pair were horny and decked out in a parity of working cowboy 
gear. Bruce whose normal customer was a horny long hall trucker 
starred at the invaders with mounting fear.
 
"Now look here...er... men. I am a prisoner here and I don't know 
what they told you but well please help me to get away." Bruce 
tried to explain.
 
"Well I don't know, Roy. Maybe we should..." John began in a 
moment of compassion.
 
"John, don't be a fool, that old boy out yonder there done told 
us this be part of the scene. Let's go with him. Go get down that 
whip yonder and lets get on with it. I bet we could make him 
dance up a storm if'n we aim for the pecker..." Roy cajoled his 
doubting side kick.
 
John rushed over to the wall and was stymied at the selection of 
leather implements. 
 
"Which un do you think he'd like?" John asked no one in 
particular.
 
"Don't, please don't, I don't like any of them please justr...." 
Bruce pleaded..
 
"Bring me the long snake like un and please your self John. This 
here old boy likes um all, I'll bet." Roy demanded. (His dick was 
standing straight up and hard as an iron bar. It was the first 
time he had had the power to whip another man and that was 
intoxicating.)
 
John no sooner handed him the bull whip when Roy unlimbered the 
thing and flexed his wrist.
 
SNAPPP!!! The leather sang off to the right side of the hapless 
pleasure employee.
 
"NO NO Please don't hurt me I'll do anything you ask. Just don't 
hit me with that thing." Bruce pleaded shielding his exposed nuts 
and soft dick with his hands.
 
"Jonnie get your self down one of these here things, or try here 
out. Why this here action be plumb invigorating. Just try it. 
Here here take this un and see if you can dust the suckers nuts 
with an underhand cut." Roy demanded of the party boy.
 
John reluctantly took the leather handle and promptly snapped the 
handle back and hit Roy a glancing blow to the nuts... by 
accident.
 
"DAMN DAMN THAT HURTS...JOHNIE BE CAREFUL.... Here let me show 
you how it is done." Roy shouted as he snatched the whip from a 
horrified John.
 
Bruce, who had observed the amateur handling of the whip stood up 
and tried to dissuade the obvious amateurs from their whip 
handling. Roy observed his target no longer protected by hands 
and flexed the leather tongue out to caress the shriveled fleshy 
tube.
 
"OHOHOHOHOOOOO GODOODOGGGOOOO" Bruce doubled over and coiled up 
protecting his now stinging penis and holding his nuts in a death 
grip.
 
"Please Please no more I'll do anything. Don't hit me with that 
whip..." Bruce begged.
 
Roy Said, "Now I think we got him going. Jonnie go get yourself 
another whip. A short un you can control. I don't want any more 
accidents with my nuts."
 
John ran to the wall and took down a short leather strap and 
returned holding it up for Roy's inspection.
 
"Yea, that is more your speed. Now stand over to the side of him 
and commence to reddening that flabby white ass of his'n."
 
John started out slowly and was very reluctant to stop even when 
the white moons had turned red. (He too became enamored with the 
power over the helpless Bruce.)
 
Roy stayed John's hand and ordered Bruce,
 
"Get on up here sucker and pleasure my old log, or I'll have him 
continue to play with your ass. I might even take a turn on them 
shriveled nuts of yourn."
 
Bruce scrambled to his knees and housed Roy's log with one gulp. 
He reasoned that John would cease his playing when his friend's 
dick was in Bruce's oral cavity.
 
John held up his hand and Roy demanded,
 
"Deep throat that log you queer bastard." Roy held Bruce's hair 
and withdrew form the moist hole. He shook his head 'yes' and 
ohn struck the sore ass with his leather belt.
 
Bruce stunned looked up and opened his mouth to howl but Roy 
plumbed for the floor through Bruces body. All that came out was,
 
"AAAANANNUUUUUMMUUMMUMUNNNN" 
 
"Now that is more like it." Roy observed.
 
From his vantage point old George thought, <That old boy knows 
how to put Bruce through the ringer. Damn shame he is going to be 
leaving so sudden like.>
 
Roy came in no time and Johnnie took his place. He was not as 
demanding as his lover and Bruce easily got him off.
 
While the queers were resting and getting um up for their next go 
at old Brucie the door bust open and the Marshal, with his 
tailored tan uniform and pointy star burst in demanding,
 
"What in the Sam Hill is going on here you perverts? You men are 
molesting this poor young boy. I ought to blow you away."
 
The long 7 1/2" barreled Colt .45, in his hand left no doubt that 
he could do just that. The moment was electric. Both gays, 
dressed in their abbreviated cowboy costumes, cowered there with 
their now shriveled peckers covered by their hands. No argument 
were possible, no defense. Then old George appeared behind the 
Marshal. He hesitated not one minute. He tapped the law man 
behind the left ear and down went the officer of law and order.
 
George then rushed over to the cowering queers shouting,
 
"You boys is dead meat. Marshal here got word some how and he 
wants your asses..... I done cold cocked him out of it for a 
while but well you boys got to make tracks out of here...Now! 
Else wise when he comes too he is  mad enough to get a rope 
right now. Why he might even string me up with ya!""
 
Roy said, "But But we.... I mean we got ..." 
 
"He'll settle for your car and clothes maybe but well if you want 
to argue about it... Look over there..." George directed their 
gaze over to the returning boys for their nightly fun at the 
cafe. 
 
That hog leg Colt's eye convinced them to vamose... Pronto.
 
George handed them a key and said,
 
"My old pick up be at the corner of the building. It be full of 
gas and if'n I was you'll I'd take it and run like blazes. Don't 
stop till you got back where you came from. I'll try an hold um 
off."
 
Jonnie saw the logic in that and ran out the door. Roy grabbed 
the key and ran after him. Old George winked at the prostrate 
Marshal. He stood up and went to the door. He started to 
slowly empty the contents of the Colt in a lazy bracketing 
pattern around the fleeing gays.
 
"Stop!!! Stop you damn queers." Marshal Wade shouted.
 
Then when they were in the beat up old pick up and headed east he 
turned to old George.
 
"How did I do?" he asked George.
 
"Fine fine. Then old boys going to be running clear to the state 
line. They sort of run funny. Must be the boots.. Well let's go 
divie up the clothes and stuff. Max gets his off the top o' 
cource. " George observed as he and the Marshal moseyed to the 
fence and began to pick through the garments left behind by the 
fleeing gays.
 
"Should do this more often." the Marshal speculated.
 
"Na regular customers wouldn't stand for it but these tourists, 
they be easy pickings." George told him.
 
*******************************************************
 
Upstairs Max heard the shooting and looked out at the fleeing men 
in pink cowboy hats. They jumped into the old pickup and tore out 
of the parking lot.
 
Max smiled. <Boys be at it again. Better get on down there and 
look over the pickings. Don't trust them boys. They just plumb 
don't have ma best interest to heart.>
 
Max walked over to the wall and unhooked Sonias tethering.
 
"Come along little doggie. The boys are going to love them lips 
o' yourn." he said as he dragged the naked blond away from her 
friend and down the stairs to the bar.
 
More to come......
====================================================

Paladin