1. Tortured Boy - Arthur x Dutch

                                    

                                          



The amount of pleasure Dutch had felt with that man, pretending to be criminal and sheriff, overwhelmed him. When it came to matters of the heart, Dutch wasn't exactly shy in asking for what he wanted, but this whole ordeal stumped him. He was a powerful man. He enjoyed feeling powerful. He was a natural born leader. Something must not have been right. There was no way he could have enjoyed that.
                          
He'd stopped being so intimate with Hosea. He hadn't really explained why, just that he needed a little time. Hosea would still crawl next to him in bed, hard as hell, but he'd never ask for anything, and so Dutch would just go on sleeping. Instead, he'd reformed his companionship with Arthur and John, taking them out on hunts, small stagecoach robberies, and the like. The camp was growing closer together again, and Dutch could feel the sense of harmony.
                          
On a particularly grey day, Dutch walked out towards the river to sit by himself and read a book. He was whistling to himself, twirling a tall piece of grass between his fingers, when suddenly a vision struck him. It was Arthur, stark naked, bent over the river, washing his clothes. For all the days that Dutch had resisted his desires, he felt them flooding back now, his cock instantly swelling at the sight of Arthur's firm ass. He hated even thinking those words. Arthur's firm ass. He didn't want to think about Arthur, naked, ever. And yet here he was, not moving an inch, as Arthur bent over even further, down on his knees now, his body muscular as a sculpture. Yes. It was inevitable, Dutch's wild throbbing in his trousers. With every movement Arthur made, his cock throbbed hungrily, eager for a little touch, any touch. Dutch lowered his hand to cover the enormous penis snaking down his trousers, cupped himself a little with the motion.
                          
Arthur turned his head around to pull one of his shirts out of the water, and they locked eyes.
                          
Oh fuck, Dutch thought. The boy was nearly ten years his younger. This wasn't right. This wasn't right at all. His cock thumped against his palm.
                          
"That you, Dutch?" Arthur asked.
                          
"Y-Yeah," Dutch nodded, still not moving.
                          
Arthur stood and his cock and balls swung between his thick thighs. Dutch was melting with desire. He could feel his own cock growing enormous under his hand. Stealthily, he covered his crotch with his book.
                          
Arthur walked towards him, body like a God's. He tossed his hair out of his face. He seemed completely unaware of the fact that he was naked. After all, they were all men here weren't they?
                          
"I wish laundry day was a little bit sunnier," Arthur said. "So I could lay out and all that." He looked down to the book that awkwardly covered the monster between Dutch's legs. "What are you reading?" he asked innocently.
                          
Dutch realized his eyes had hung a little too long on Arthur's glaring cock. He looked up, startled.
                          
Then, Arthur started to get the idea. At first, he looked puzzled, then, after a few seconds had passed, he realized that Dutch hadn't moved the book from its delicate placement between his legs. Arthur either didn't care, or pretended not to.
                          
"Well," he said. "I didn't mean to interrupt your reading."
                          
Dutch gave an awkward grin. "No," he said. "You didn't." He started to walk off towards the tree he had originally set his eyes on, a good ways a way from the river. They both watched as he awkwardly hobbled forward, leaving a good space between his legs for his enlarged cock.
                          
Arthur smirked at him, as if this confirmed exactly what he needed to know. "Well," he called as he turned around. "Don't let my washing distract you."
                          
But from the tree where Dutch eventually sat, he could see everything. It almost seemed that Arthur was tormenting him, reaching way down low, tossing his hair back, playing absent-mindedly with his soft cock. Dutch was writhing as he watched, and it didn't take long for him to whip his cock out and get to it. All he could think of, as he rubbed his hand up and down his own length, was Arthur's ass spreading wide as he dipped down into the water. All he could think of was sliding himself in there, making that boy obey his every command. Oh--oh! He splattered all over the grass.
                          
Cock still in his hand, Dutch gave a sigh of relief. See? He wasn't all that submissive. What a relief that was indeed.