This fantasy was included in a different form and context in my book "S/M Ranch", Winston Leyland Publications. The terms "boy" and "kid" do not refer to underaged males but are part of the slang and daily language of men in groups such as the trail gang.—Luc Milne
The tenth day of the drive had been as smooth and easy as a gal at Big Mary's whorehouse. The 2500 head of cattle had settled into a routine, after some bad early days, and the coming month and a half of the drive seemed to be shaping up real good. The weather was fine, the grass was plentiful and the trail Boss always found fresh water for the thirsty beasts.
After making camp about five o'clock and settling the herd in for the night, with two of the men riding first night watch, the other twenty cowboys ate a big supper of Cooky's famous sonofabitch stew and were sitting around the campfire while Cooky finished up the last of the pot-scrubbing with his fine white sand and a wire brush. They jawed about nothing much while they rolled their smokes, then listened quietly to several of numbers from old Jake's harmonica. They even sang along on "Dinah Had a Wooden Leg." And now, since the day had been so easy, the fellows were ready for a story from the trail boss.
They all called him Mr. Houston during the workday, but at night it was sometimes possible to get away with his nickname.
"Hey, Mr. 'Stretch", how about one of your famous tales?" someone would call out, and if he was in a good mood the boss would oblige.
Most thought his nickname came from his tall lanky figure, but a few of the more experienced riders knew that it grew out of his ability to "stretch" a guy's foreskin and ballsack to the screaming point when he was working a feller over in the private shack out back of Big Mary's house.
Old Jake put away his harmonica and stood up to address the assembly.
"Gentlemen, Ladies, and all those in between, [catcalls and whistles from the crowd] we have with us tonight a man who can tell us the astounding tale of the famous Pecos Peter. Gentlemen, Ladies, and Cooky, [outraged scream from the chuck wagon], I give you that esteemed maestro of trail torture, Mr. Stretch Houston!
To the audience's applause and whistles the grizzled veteran came forward and took a seat on a pile of bedrolls in the circle of cowboys lounging around the fire. All eyes turned toward him.
"Now you fellers know that one way or another I've seen a lot o’ cocks in my day and that I've busted the nuts of more than a few saddlebums."
"I can swear to that," piped up one of the boys who had suffered at Stretch Houston's horny hands out back at Big Mary's.
"You hush up, sissyboy, I haven't even begun with you yet." called Stretch. "Tonight I'm going to tell you about Pecos Peter, who had the biggest, fattest, longest, heaviest, meanest cock this side of the Pecos River."
"What about the other side of the Pecos River?" called a sassy voice.
"Don't you worry about the other side Cooky. They got their own hero-fellah by the name of Five-Ball Tommy—but I'll tell you about him another time. Tonight it's the Legend of Pecos Peter—often called just Pecos Pete, but everybody knowed that the Pete stood for the biggest peter in the West.
"I'm tellin' you it was a veritable monster of a cock—three feet long most of the time, when it was just half-hard, and real limber, pliable, like a big bull snake. And when it got harder—'course a cock that big never does get completely hard—it'd drain all the blood out of a man's body if it did—knock him unconscious—but when it stretched out, that thing was another foot long, about five inches wide and so thick that your two hands couldn't reach around it. Naturally his balls matched his dick—a good fifteen-inch hang and big as musk melons."
A few groans of disbelief—or maybe desire—were heard from the listeners.
Stretch continued: "Now you may be wonderin' why Pecos Peter's cock didn't drag on the ground when he walked. Well he was a tall man, over seven foot, and big all over, so on him that monster of a cock looked real normal.
"Hardly anybody knows what his face looked like: once people saw that giant comin' at 'em their eyes just naturally drifted down to that big mound between his chaps, like he had a twenty-pound beef roast stuck down the front of his pants.
"Being a man of the range country, like most of us, he was uncut, and he had a foreskin to match his shaft: it was long and thick and real loose. I've heard he could stretch that skin over the face of a punk and make the kid fuck up into his wide pisshole with his tongue. And he liked to have that long pizzle meat chewed on, like it was a piece of beef jerky. He'd set one of his boys to working that thing with his teeth for hours on end."
One of the younger cowboys who was new to the trail and liked to call himself Utah Ned, said "Sounds to me like Pecos Peter was kinda queer, Mr. Houston."
Several of the older men choked down their laughter as Stretch Houston turned his cold eyes toward the fresh-faced lad. "Well, son, I'll tell ya, I don't know if Pecos Peter was queer or not. All I know is, when you got meat like his, you're gonna use any pussy that comes along to pleasure it, woman or man. Get me?"
"Yes, Sir" came the answer in a small voice. "I get you."
"And that ain't all you're gonna be gettin'" snickered Cooky from the chuck wagon.
Stretch looked back toward the fire, letting his story flow again.
"Pecos Peter, in his younger days, was notorious for pickin' up a young punk who thought he was a hotshot gunslinger, and breakin' him in as his cock slave. He'd use him for a while, then pick up another, fresher one. He was real possessive about those boys. He'd take that long rope of a cock of his and wrap it around the man's neck—lead him around on all fours like a pup on a leash.
"And he always ass-broke his boys in right from the start. Made 'em take the whole damn thing. I've heard tell that Pecos Peter's dick would go right up through a pussy's stomach, into his throat and push out the punk's mouth. 'Course I kinda doubt that, because the head of that cock was way too big to push through a feller's mouth, either from the outside or the inside.
"That was a real sore point with Pecos Peter: he couldn't find nor man nor woman with a mouth wide enough to stretch around that lump of cockmeat and give him a good suck. Hell, his cumslit was so wide that you could fuck your own cock down into it, and the lips on it were as big and plump as the lips of a whorehouse cocksucker.
"He used to say to his boys, 'I'm ready for a little kissin' now.' And the boy would know he didn't mean on his mouth; he meant the kid should get on his knees and french-smooch the wet lips of that big cream spout.
"But it wasn't all fuckin' and cocksuckin' with Pecos Peter. He did a lot of good with that big meat of his. One time he come across a man neck deep in quicksand, too far out for Pecos Peter to reach him. So old Pecos pulls out his cock and slings it out to the chap. 'Grab on,' he says, 'I'll pull you out'. But the man says, 'I can't. The sand's too heavy on my arms, I can't raise them.' So Pecos grins and says 'Well, sir, you're gonna have to get the head of that thing in your mouth and hold on with your teeth while I pull out, or you're goin' under fer sure.'
"And that was one of the only times in Pecos Peter's long life that a man got his whole mouth over the end of that cock.
Stretch looked around at the rapt faces in the firelight.
"Well, he had to didn't he? It was that or die. Mighty strange what the fear of dyin' will enable a man to achieve. 'Course it was said that the man talked kinda funny for the rest of his life 'cause his lips were so loose and stretched outta shape, but that was a small price to pay for bein' saved.
"Many's the time Pecos would use that big peter to save people hanging onto bushes off the edges of cliffs. He'd just kneel down and dangle that meatrope over the edge, and they'd grab on to be pulled up.
"Now, you may be wonderin' just how Pecos Peter come by this marvel of genitalia. Was it inherited, or just some freak of nature? The rumour was that his maw mated with her favourite stallion, and Pecos was the result. She was so shocked by the big handle on the baby that she abandoned him by the side of the road where he was found by a tribe of Indians. They knew the child could be put to good use, so they set their women to pulling that meat even further as he grew up. They made him walk around camp with a heavy rock tied to it, and used him to pull their sleds by it when they moved their villages."
The men shifted uneasily on hearing this. They hadn't met any Indians yet, but in the days ahead there would be plenty of encounters. And they had all heard wild tales about young cowboy scouts taken prisoner and turned into "squaws" for the pleasure of the young bucks.
The trail boss moved on to a more comfortable part of his tale.
"I s'pose the high point of Pecos Peter's career was his stint as Sheriff of the town of Rattlesnake Gulch. One day when he was walkin' by the Bank he looked in and saw that it was bein' robbed by one of Duke Starr's gang. It was Duke's cousin, called Tiny Tim—with good reason, it was rumoured—and the minute he saw the Sheriff, he grabbed a lady and told him to back off or he'd shoot her.
"Well, Pecos calmly unbuckled his holster belt and laid his guns on the floor. Then he walked a little closer to the robber and his lady hostage. When the man warned him to stay back, he said 'Don't worry fella, I just want to show you something.' Then he reached into the fly of his pants and pulled out his famous meat, letting it dangle in front of the man's staring eyes. The lady, o'course, fainted, and Tiny Tim was so blowed over by what he saw that he let his guard down for a moment. That was when Pecos Pete lashed out with that bullwhip of a cock and smacked the gun right out of the man's hand with it—near broke his wrist with the blow.
"They took Tiny Tim to the jail and Pecos Peter worked him over good during the week before they tried and hanged him. He went to the gallows with five-inch welts on his butt from the cock beatings he'd been given and he'd been fucked so many times with that punisher that he was bow-legged for his last walk. His lips were swole up six or seven times their normal size from hours of suckin' at the juicy cumtit. There was some talk of using Pecos Peter's cock as the hanging noose—sort of poetic justice—but then the Judge remembered there'd be ladies at the hanging so it wouldn't be proper.
"Gradually, as we all know, the wild west got tamer—you fellers have it easy today—and there wasn't so much call for that kind of service from ole Pecos. So he took up with a snake oil salesman. This fells would tell his customers that the 'Oil of Life' from Pete's big cock—or from his 'Procreative Organ' as the swindler would put it—would cure all kinda ills. A drink of it was supposed to keep a man's pecker hard for a month. And daily dabs of it on a man's wick would add two or three inches, 'Permanent and Guaranteed!' Even the young girls were urged dab it behind their ears to get their beaus all hot and bothered. He promised that if a gal smeared some of it on her lips that her gentleman caller would go crazy smooching on her.
"To get this elixir, the salesman milked Pecos Peter's cock into the mouth of a mason jar—the cumlips and the tip just fit down into the wide opening, and one shoot would fill the jar up. In fact, in his heyday Pete had been known to take a man's ten gallon stetson and fill it to the brim with one blow of gravy from those fat balls. But the 'Oil of Life' sold so well, that the salesman got to milking Pecos ten or eleven times a day. And pretty soon, the poor feller just dried up.
"Then the salesman sold him to a mangy 'Wild West Show', where he just sat in a tent with the sign outside that read "See the Phallic Wonder of Five Continents", and men—never the ladies, bless 'em—paid two bits just to get a peek at the famous meat. Sometimes for a private showing to Eastern dudes they'd recreate the legendary "Capture of Tiny Tim", but poor ole Pecos Peter's heart, nor his cock for that matter, just wasn't it.
"Nobody knows for sure what happened to Pecos and his Phallic Wonder, the biggest peter in the west. Some say he just faded away. But others whisper of a return of his powers and an escape from the circus. They think his ghost still rides. They say that on a night like this, with a full moon, and just the hint of a breeze, if you listen hard, you can hear the hoofbeats of his horse as he roams the range looking for ripe young cowboys to ravish."
Stretch broke off his tale and held his head up, listening. And sure enough, in the distance they all heard the sound of galloping hooves. They were coming nearer and nearer to the camp!
Then, out of the gloom, there emerged a giant man on a white horse. He pulled up and the steed reared, neighing and snorting. The man's face was shadowed by his big hat, but his eyes could be seen gleaming as he searched the faces in the group around the fire. Suddenly, with a wild cry, he plunged his horse to one side of the fire, leaned down from his saddle and with one brawny arm plucked up the terrified lad Utah Ned who had earlier suggested that Pecos Peter was a "queer". Slinging him across the saddle, the giant roared off into the night, his mad laugh drowning out the boy's screams.
In the awed silence that followed, Boss Houston spoke quietly:
"Let that be a lesson to you, fellers. Never talk bad about any Hero of the Old West. Better get to sleep now, and try not to think about what's happenin' to li'l Ned out there on the range. We've gotta be stirring by first light." After giving hushed thanks to the trail boss for his story, some of the men slowly spread out their tarps and quilts and lay down to sleep in their longjohns, using their pants and shirts as pillows. One of two bedded down well away from the others, with their guns laid by, a warning to any "midnight gobblers" who might be lurking.
But others stole off into the grass in twos and threes to work off the hard-ons that the tale of Pecos Peter and his giant slab of meat had given them. Soon, while the men around the fire snored and farted in their sleep, other sounds drifted in from the range: gasps and sighs and snatches of words:
…deeper…deeper…you can swallow more than that…. …ride me Buck, ride me harder….faster….faster… …no, please sir, not there, oh please no sir…. …slap his slap his face with your meat while I fuck 'im… …eat…eat…eat… …open up girl, it's Pecos Peter, and I'm cumming in… …please no…harder…drink…deeper, bitch…cummminng!…
And, in the distance, a long howl as Pecos Peter pushed his legendary, ghostly cock, into Utah Ned's quivering virgin hole.
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