Blowing Off Steam Page 9

  Rushy took the rag and did the honor of wiping the steamy pectoral. Field stretched, threading both hands together over his head. “No sign of Sam Brannan.”

  “Or Mark Hopkins,” Rushy pointed out. Field had told him he’d neglected to present Hopkins with the steam engine that now ran so smoothly a few feet away. Rushy was glad, in a way, that Thomas Field Trueworthy had something nearly as heinous to hide. It gave them another thing in common and an element of danger to their relationship. “We’ll need to use code names when running into any of those high muckety-mucks. I want to be called Captain Kidd.”

  Field chuckled. “All right. Call me Captain Fulton.”

  “Sure.” Rubbing Field’s chest now, Rushy had an idea. He took a bucket and snapped open a water injection valve to fill it. Field watched him calmly with that soft-eyed expression that let Rushy know he was at peace with things. Exhausted, probably—it was no small feat racing a giant piece of steaming, hissing machinery upriver, especially in the sweltering heat. Now, he dipped the rag into the bucket of cool river water and washed Field’s chest. Field sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned back against a bulkhead.

  “That beefy buffalo, Stan Sitwell,” said Rushy. “He sure does have a yen-yen for you.”

  The corner of Field’s mouth quirked upward. “That’s probably not such an enormous compliment. He probably wants everyone.”

  “Hey,” protested Rushy, squeezing a fresh stream of water down Field’s abdomen. “He wasn’t fondling my balls.” He stood so close the rivulets of water ran over his own distended crotch. “I’ll bet he won’t soon forget the sight of me frigging your beautiful meaty prick.”

  Field graced Rushy with a glance from his doe’s eyes. “I won’t soon forget it, Rushy. You’re welcome to manhandle me any time.”

  Rushy dipped a few fingertips beneath Field’s broadfall, so soaked and hot he was nearly burned. “You liked being watched, didn’t you? Even if it was that beefy, disgusting pig. You like being admired. Those two young men were vigorously humping the window glass at the sight of your long, meaty cock.”

  Field grinned modestly, thrusting his hips toward Rushy’s questing hand. “I never took much note of it before, maybe because no one’s ever frigged me in front of a big window plumb full of a drooling audience.”

  Unsnapping the broadfall buttons with his other hand, Rushy finally got a grip on the big, juicy appendage he’d been longing for. He released it into the humid air and socked the dripping rag into the sultry crotch, fondling the tight balls the way Stan Sitwell could only dream of. Field leaned against the bulkhead with hands knitted at the back of his neck, smiling languidly as though he rocked in a hammock with a mint julep.

  Rushy was proud of him for taking it all in stride. The idea of being touched so blatantly and erotically by another man had probably never occurred to Field until running up against Rushy Wakeman, and there was none of that false sense of offense that Rushy had met with in some men. Some men would protest till the cows came home that being fondled by another man disgusted them—while their erect penises told a different story. Rushy had never met a man who was ultimately outraged by being stroked by another fellow, when it really came down to brass tacks.

  “You like Calliope, though,” Rushy said off-handedly, running his mouth up the length of Field’s delicate jawbone. “I see it in your eyes. You look fondly upon her.”

  Field sighed. “What’s not to like? She’s spirited and brave, a stunner with pluck.” This was more than Rushy had bargained for, and he didn’t like the sound of it. But Rushy backed down from the big kiss he was about to lay on Field when he heard the next part. “She kissed me. On the way out of Kwok Lee’s establishment.”

  Rushy’s hand stilled around the pulsating cock. What was this emotion welling in him? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. He felt in a bad way and didn’t know why, until it struck him clean to the heart. Jealousy. He was jealous that Calliope had kissed Field! Did Field kiss her back? Rushy must pretend to be unconcerned, for jealousy was an unattractive quality, so he said casually, “So she’s lavishing caresses upon you. She’s a good-looking gal. But I’ll show you one particular she can’t beat me at.” He licked Field’s lower lip. “You’ll alter your tune mighty sudden when I demonstrate my own particular recipe.”

  Without any more ado, Rushy dropped to his knees in the watery sludge of the engine room floor. Clutching Field’s hips to his face, Rushy dove in, inhaling the stiff cock down his throat. Calliope could never suck cock this well, no matter how many flabby, smelly miners she sucked on! She would always be bored or nauseated by it—and no small wonder, if one looked upon the cleanliness factor that surrounded most prospecting emigrants, like a cloud of flies buzzing about their heads.

  Field gasped as Rushy gorged himself on the heft of his gloriously meaty prick. One hand slapped down to grip Rushy’s shoulder, and within seconds Field was uttering strangled, wordless sounds. No one could beat an old sodomite like Rushy when it came to sucking cock, and he had never had a dissatisfied partner. But even as Rushy relished the smooth, velvety head of Field’s prick stroking the roof of his mouth, a question tickled the outer limits of his brain.

  Sure, Calliope was probably more than fed up with putrid, boorish clients. Most hookers were, if you really got down to the fact of the business. There was only one problem. Field was clean and had impeccable manners. If Rushy wanted to impress this man and keep him from Calliope’s satiny blonde clutches, Rushy would have to block her game some way.

  Briefly releasing the erect, reddening cock, Rushy slurped all over his longest, middle finger. Positioning it at the anal opening, he slid it in. Field’s sweet ass sucked it up immediately, and Rushy squiggled it around until he felt the tender, overly sensitive spot that would send Field over the top. He was gratified when Field gasped loudly, probably loud enough for the diners above to hear over the hissing of the steam pipes, and Rushy gulped down the tiny spurt of semen that surged up the underside of Field’s cock.

  Oh, yes. This was going to work. Once Field had experienced spewing a load into Rushy’s expertly suctioning mouth, he would never be able to give it up.

  Rushy stroked with his middle finger inside the slick channel, and Field groaned loudly and gripped the back of his neck so tightly Rushy would later find fingernail marks there. Field’s hips jerked and quivered, and as Rushy wriggled his big, flat tongue against the underside of the taut prick, he exploded down his throat.

  Rushy kept up with the finger-banging as he gulped the great stream of hot jism. Field’s full ball sac slapped against Rushy’s chin as he swallowed, twice, three times. Land’s sake, this man could come and come. Rushy felt the semen nearly erupt out his nostrils as he struggled to breathe and gobble at the same time. Field jerked his hips like a man possessed and made no sound at all.

  Now Rushy could slow down, merely tickling the inside of Field’s anal passage so as not to overexcite him to the point of pain. His lips left the pulsating cock head regretfully, and he was light-headed as he raised himself to a standing position. He draped one arm over Field’s sweaty, panting shoulder, grabbing the wet rag to clean his hand.

  “Now what do you say, partner?” He licked Field’s dry mouth. Sliding his slick tongue into Field’s mouth, he laved his tongue with a gob of jism. Field suckled back eagerly like a man dying of thirst as Rushy humped his full crotch against Field’s naked cock. It was always erotic to give a man back some of his own jism, and Rushy never failed to be amazed at how eagerly most men supped it.

  But Field grabbed a handful of Rushy’s hair and snapped his head back, away from his mouth. He was smiling, his eyes lazily lidded. “You’re obscene,” he declared languidly. “And nasty.”

  Rushy smiled, too. “Would you have it any other way?” He gave Field some more of his jism-coated tongue.

  “Nasty and obscene doesn’t begin to cover it.”

  Both men jumped at the sudden intrusion of a female voice. Rushy spun around and
automatically reached for his holster, but when he squinted into the darkness he saw the pleasing form of Calliope. He wasn’t irritated, especially when he recalled how aroused Field became, knowing someone was watching him, well, acting obscene and nasty. His eyes darted back to Field, and he wore the same lazy, happy expression, and Rushy remembered his attraction to Calliope. Once again, he’d have to take charge. He was glad Field had just expended himself, so he couldn’t waste himself again on the whorish chef so soon.

  Rushy blurted out, “You sure like watching, woman! We should be glad you didn’t start playing your namesake organ right now and blast everyone out of their bunks to come view the monkey show.”

  In the dim light of two lamps that hung from the ceiling, Calliope came forward with some implements in her hands. She wore that foxy, devilish look. “I wager the majority of passengers would probably enjoy that.” She fluttered her lashes and put the implements down on Field’s work bench.

  Field merely stuffed his cock into his broadfall before going forward to take Calliope by the shoulders. “Don’t be so hard on her, Rushy. She’s been working like a beaver all damned day, and she knows what the customers want. Don’t you think she’s done a bang-up job, jawing with the passengers and cooking?”

  The way Field squeezed Calliope’s shoulders squished her bosom upward in the brown silk bodice, joggling her rounded teats enticingly. Rushy got an idea. Jamming his hands onto his hips, he strode close to the couple and shouted, “No, she hasn’t done a first-rate job! She’s turning her job all into ridicule—don’t you agree, Field?”

  But when Rushy saw the woman’s mouth form a perfect O and Field’s ire begin to rise, Rushy saw he might have missed his calling as an actor. He was doing too good of a job, and Field believed he was dead serious. Rushy had to grin then, to give away the game, and he chucked Calliope under the chin like a child while she stuck out a petulant lower lip. “This young gal has been in a bad way for punishment, so old Headmaster Smith has informed me.”

  The devilish cast returned to Calliope’s eyes, and she looked obediently at Rushy’s boots. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the headmaster had informed you. I was so bad. My judgment day has surely come.”

  “Well, you got more than you bargained for,” said Rushy ominously, grabbing the first line he could find, which turned out to be a reata rope Field was apparently using to tie something down.

  Field, having released Calliope, held out two warning hands. “Hey, now. I don’t think Calliope wants to remember her”—he watched in horror as Rushy yanked both Calliope’s wrists behind her back and began to bind them—“remember her recent employment. Reminding her of it might hearken her back into dark, dismal days—”

  “It’s all right, Field.” Calliope jutted her jaw in grim determination to follow through with her punishment. “I know I’m in a heap of trouble, and you two he-men are just the ones to punish me.” She flicked Rushy a salty, seductive look as he jerked on the reata to cinch the knot at the small of her back. Her bursting breasts jiggled provocatively, the bodice having been yanked so low Rushy imagined he could see shadows of her areolas about to pop from the fabric. Rushy was already aroused out of his skull having suckled on that indecent engineer’s penis. He knew he wouldn’t last long punishing this naughty gal, and when he glanced aside, he saw that Field’s outrage was an act, too. Already Field’s cock was up like a hammer, straining to be released from his trousers.

  Rushy had to go like sixty if he wanted to claim Calliope before Field leaped on her, so he shoved her rudely toward the work bench where she splayed attractively, feet apart, propped on her bound hands behind her. Rushy approached her with hands dangling at his sides, cocking his very obvious erection in her direction. “It’s a caution the way you’ve behaved, young missy.” He made a sudden swipe at a tin of bear grease that sat on the work bench, but the only one who flinched was Field, who tried to step between them.

  “Now, now,” Field cautioned, his hands flat on the grimy breast of Rushy’s velveteen frock coat. “The young missy here probably doesn’t want—”

  Rushy yanked Field brutally aside and had to grin at the shameful smile that appeared on Calliope’s face. Mayhap she liked her men a bit more domineering. Like Rushy. Stepping so close to her that his stiff cock nearly brained her, Rushy dipped his fingertips into the bear grease and salaciously applied it to her warm collarbone. “Young missy has no choice in what she wants. It’s what I want. Right, young gal?”

  Calliope affected a helpless face. “Right, New Headmaster.” She was such a convincing actress, matter of fact, Rushy couldn’t tell if her pining, longing expression when she glanced slack-jawed at his erection was real or put-on.

  He smeared the grease down over the upper swell of one admirable, buoyant breast. He’d been visited in his pilothouse many times before by women who were not hookers—women bored with or sore from their husbands, who just wanted some dangerous frolics for a few moments before returning to their deadly lives. But none had ever had such full, creamy, buoyant teats, and Rushy was afraid he’d ejaculate the moment he brought them into the open. “Oh, yes,” he said bawdily. “We’re going to have it up and down, missy.” Rubbing his greasy thumb in a circular pattern, he swept his palm down the juicy swell of her bursting titty. He placed one booted foot on either side of her thigh, his knees easing up her gown to display her stockings, where she had claimed to have cinched an Arkansas toothpick in her garter.

  Calliope thrashed her head defenselessly. “No, Headmaster Wakeman! I promise to be good. Just please don’t handle my titties!”

  “Rushy!” Field hissed, now yanking on the tail of Rushy’s frock coat.

  Calliope’s subservience just about put Rushy over the top. When her breast popped out fully into his palm, delectable and bouncy, he mindlessly jammed his crotch into her face. She uttered some muffled words, but her jawing against the head of his prick only served to stimulate him further, if such a thing was possible. It indeed sounded like she only uttered “Mmph, mmph, mmph” in order to have an excuse to jaw his cock some more. A sly wildcat she was.

  He bobbled her oily teat, circling the stiff nipple with his calloused thumb, and he remarked harshly, “You’ve been wearing this newfangled corset while you slave in the galley? How shameful is that for a young upstanding girl? You’re ripe for the devil, you are.”

  But of course Calliope could not admit to her devilment and could only make smothered sounds. Rushy swiftly unbuttoned his broadfall, this time truly braining her, his prick slapping upside her face. Without missing a beat, Rushy plunged it into her stunned O of a mouth, and she juicily fell to it, slathering her little squirming tongue all about the underside as his balls tightened up beneath the base of it.

  “Why don’t you help punish her, Field?” Rushy generously offered as he humped the chef’s talented little mouth.

  Field by now seemed utterly aghast at his friend’s doings. He’d gone slack-jawed, too, with shock but more than a little curiosity, so Rushy jammed the tin of bear grease into Field’s palm and eyeballed Calliope’s other titty, still clothed under the brown silk. Rushy urged, “Come on, Captain Fulton. Grab ahold of her big, succulent titty. She’s an eager little wildcat, a saucy little slut. She pretends to be innocent, but you know she’s eager to have us paw her big titties.”

  With a look both infuriated and overwhelmed by lust, Field obstinately greased the upper slope of Calliope’s breast. He now humped her bare shoulder as he fingered the titty out of its silken casing, and the two men jiggled her hefty, jutting breasts as they grunted like idiotic barnyard animals. Field had that heavy-lidded look again, and he bent a few inches and trapped Rushy’s lips between his own. When Field snaked his free hand down Rushy’s pelvic mound to grip the tight, full ball sac in his hot palm, Rushy lost all control.

  An overpowering erotic tingling surged down his spine, radiating gooseflesh over the mounds of his ass and through his balls. His cock head erupted inside Calliope’s e
agerly suctioning mouth, spurt after spurt of raw jism exploding up the length of his prick. When he heard Calliope truly choking on the immense load, he pulled back and jerked the last few blobs of semen between her greasy breasts. Field and Rushy both smashed her breasts together to capture his shuddering cock as she caught her breath. She licked her lips, and her eyes shone with admiration and arousal as she avidly watched Rushy’s cock head continue to spurt unctuous globs as he fucked her jiggling bosom.

  “Damnation,” Field muttered as he nipped Rushy’s earlobe, still massaging his supple balls almost lovingly, as though they were his own. “I was right. You are one obscene, nasty libertine.” He chuckled. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Whew!” Calliope exclaimed, breaking the trance. Rushy regarded her with fresh eyes of appreciation, her hair all tousled, her shiny chest heaving with her panting. She wiggled her eyebrows up at them and said, “Get your penis out of my bosom, or I’ll play ‘The Anvil Chorus’ on your head!”

  There was a stunned silence quickly broken by uproarious laughter. Rushy staggered backward, his cock bobbing in lagging tumescence as Field said, “She’d make a good salty bartender, don’t you think?”

  Calliope snapped, “I’ve got my hands full with cooking. And playing more sorts of organs than I could possibly handle! Get me out of these ropes and into a good shot of whiskey.”

  Sweat dripping down their torsos, both men clumsily started untying the poor abused chef. She said, more kindly now, “I brought you some of that opium from Kwok Lee’s. Don’t you think we should try it out first, see if it’s really that good? I mean, after all we went through to get it.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” said Field. “I’ve never tried opium.”

  Rushy was amused. “You haven’t? Why, you miserable old critter. Opium is the ‘just, subtle, and all-conquering’ drug. Only I’ve never smoked it, just eaten it in pill form.”