The Bounty Hunter & The Outlaw!

It had been over a week since the first wanted signs of me had started showing up in the neighbouring towns. Never staying longer than a night in any given place had become routine. Running from my past: my inescapable existence of late. It was a sweltering hot day outside. Not unusual to the cowboys and lawless creatures that roamed the wild west, but still the kind of heat that demands to be noticed. Off to the side of the dusty track was a saloon bar where I had been taking refuge from the beating sun, sipping my whiskey neat in a darkened corner and doing my utmost not to gain any unwarranted attention. But the locals in these towns could sniff out an outsider from a mile away. I sat and observed from under the brim of my hat as murmurs spread from table to table until every man there was aware of my presence, lurking in the shadows. So much for keeping a low profile!

And then I felt it: a mysterious breeze from outside, blowing the desert sand along the bar floor. The saloon doors swung open as I looked up sheepishly from my drink. There, blocking the daylight, stood a tall, burly figure; his long reflection strewn before him. As he stepped inside, the busy sound of bar chatter fell silent, only to be replaced by the creaking of the wooden floorboards under the heel of his leather boots. It was too dark to make out a face or any other discerning features, but the silhouette of a cowboy hat and rope tied around his belt was enough to know the arrival of this stranger meant trouble for me.

“Any dangerous-looking folk come through these parts? I’m looking for this man,” he called out in his raspy voice as he lifted his arm, holding out a piece of paper in one hand. And sure enough, there it was; a sketch of my face with the words “BOUNTY: $10,000” boldly printed beneath. A moment of hesitation was the only head start I was given before some bloke raised his hand and pointed in my direction. And then, like dominos, they all fell; a wave of fingers raised to point at me. Without wasting a moment, I checked my surroundings for an alternative escape route. Alas, the only way to freedom was past the stranger and out through the saloon doors. It was risky, but I refused to play the sitting duck, so I knocked back the whiskey in my hand and charged towards the exit. I ducked his outstretched arm as I flew past him, narrowly escaping capture. Outside on the dusty roads, I thought I’d made it. But then, cutting the air like a knife, his lasso flung towards me, wrapping itself around my arms and chest and bringing me to the ground with an almighty thud.

I couldn’t see him from where I lay with my face in the dirt, but I could hear him approaching. “Knew I’d find you eventually,” he chuckled, as he stopped right behind me, “and of all the people I’ve claimed a bounty for, you, sir, are about to be my biggest payday yet!” Well, fuck, I thought to myself. I hadn’t just been caught, but I’d gotten myself captured by a fucking bounty hunter. And it wasn’t his first rodeo, that’s for sure. Crouched down behind me, he had taken his rope and started tying me up so I couldn’t move. My hands were cuffed in front of me, my arms bound to my torso and my knees and feet were fastened side by side. Then, as if I weighed nothing, he lifted me, kicking and cussing, tossed me over his shoulder and headed deeper into the desert. When we were far enough and out of sight of the saloon, he dropped me at his feet and climbed on top of me.


Sweat was dripping off his brow and into my mouth, and the smell of his leather chaps and vest filled my airways like an intoxicating perfume. Leaning in closer, he said, “You’re a handsome fucker, aren’t you! Tell you what, it’s a long journey between here and there, so how about you and I have some fun on our way?” And with that, he grabbed both my hands and shoved them down his pants. His cock and balls, hot and sweaty, were heavy in my grasp. I could feel his cock starting to grow as he rubbed himself up and down inside my hands. Before I could say anything, he pulled off my cowboy hat and pushed it down over my face until everything went black. True, I couldn’t see what came next, but the bounty hunter ensured I felt everything. Taking both my legs in one hand, he pushed them back over my head and, with his other hand, tore a hole in my jeans, leaving me exposed. A thick wad of his spit wet my hole, accompanied by the sound of him unzipping his flies, and I knew what was coming. Sure enough, seconds later, his girthy cock pressed against my hole, and with each push, he got harder and harder until he was tearing deep inside me.

There was no use calling for help – no one would have heard me. No use trying to run away either – I wouldn’t have gotten very far, all tied up like that. And truth be told, I wasn’t hating what was happening. I had known it was only a matter of time before I’d get caught and made to answer for my crimes. Hence, something about the finality of my current predicament made it feel good to be finally under someone else’s control. But as I gave into him, he gave it to me harder; fucking me up as if he had something to prove. His firm grip had found its way up to my neck, pinning me down on the desert floor with all his force. Faster and rougher he went, only pulling out to spit down on his cock before plunging it back inside. “You know… since they’re going to rough up that pretty face of yours anyways…” he said, pulling the hat off my face. He slowly raised his fist in the air, watching me intently the entire time, waiting for the moment the look in my eyes flickered from pleasure to fear. And when it did, his stiff cock pulsed one more time before shooting out a load of cum, and his fist landed its blow across my face.

He stood over me, with one foot on my chest to keep me down. And with a grin, he started to soak me in his piss. Out of his still-hard cock it came, trickling down over my face, in my beard and seeping through my clothes. Shoving his cock back into his pants, he said triumphantly, “Now I’m ready to hit the road. Let’s go, cowboy!” With that, he turned to go, tugging me along behind him, with my face bruised, clothes ripped and covered in his urine and sweat. And as we headed off into the sunset in search of his bounty, I couldn’t help thinking to myself, there are worse ways for this story to end.


Read more about Clarks endeavors here:

Top Bunk

Master of Mind – Master of Galaxy

A Compromising Position

The Mechanic & Me