Part 3 - Everybody Wants Some Man-Meat
They lifted and carried Pete back through the hole from where he'd come, back to the little room where he'd met Jack. Here, they sat him on his butt and gave him water, of which he drank plenty. As the last female stepped toward the exit, Pete asked with the sweetest voice he could muster, "Miss, could I get something to eat? I'm powerful hungry."
She didn't even bother to turn around, instead disappearing into the tunnel as though she hadn't heard him at all. With nowhere to go and nothing of promise to look forward to, Pete fell onto his side and quickly collapsed into a deep slumber. No memories of grandpa Seth this time. Finally, Pete Radcliffe could sleep in peace, figuring this form of incarceration was a far cry better than the one he'd left behind in Colorado.
It was a long while before he was stirred from his coma. Pete had dreams - fantasies of those female hands all over him, but this time they were smooth as silk, almost like they were velvet-gloved. He felt them all over his back side from head to toes and in the butt crack. He felt them on and in between his fingers, arms and pits, chest, belly, thighs and calves. He especially felt them on his balls and cock, where they seemed to linger for an awfully long and pleasurable amount of time, before he was jolted from this soothing dream world by a drenching of water.
Pete sprang up to sit on his butt just as another bucket was poured onto his head. Two more came flying from either side of him, as the ladies rinsed away the last of his stink. Without a word, they one by one disappeared into the tunnel, leaving Pete alone, dripping clean and starving worse than before.
"Feel better?" Jack's voice came from the shadows. He stood and walked towards Pete. "C'mon, let's get you more comfortable." Lifting under the armpits, Jack maneuvered the ankle-bound man to a wall and brought his back to lean up against it. "Are ya hungry, boy?"
"Hungry ain't the word for it, Jack."
"I'll fix ya right up." He headed for the far wall, lifted the lid off a small black kettle and spooned some sort of stew into a bowl. Bringing the meal closer, Jack could barely let go before Pete yanked away the bowl to shovel every drop into his mouth. No time to chew, he swallowed it whole and licked the bowl clean, all gone in 30 seconds.
"More, please," Pete asked, noticing that the bowl was of an indoor type, made of porcelain with a fancy border. The spoon looked to be of a fine silver plating, now tarnished.
"Like it, do ya?" Jack smiled while serving up another helping.
"Right now, I'd like just about anything you wanna give me. What is it, anyway?"
"Well, Pete," he chuckled. "What critters do you know of that live in a cave?"
"Hell, I don't know." He slurped one spoonful after another, this time allowing his tongue to get a taste before sending it down the hatch. "Spiders, snakes, birds, bats... what else you got?"
"That about covers it. Could be any or all of 'em."
Pete stopped, thought about it, then continued to devour. "Where'd you get the fancy dishes?"
"God damn it boy," he whined in a good-natured way. "Don't start up again."
"Sonuva bitch, Jack, can't you tell me anything?" He spit beads of stew, clearly frustrated. "And quit calling me boy. I'm a grown man, for Christ's sake."
"Ah, hell, Pete, I'm sorry." Jack dropped his head. "I know you're a man. One hell of a man. It's just that you remind me of a young man I used to run with, that's all. Back in my prospectin' days."
"You were a prospector? For what?"
"Any metal worth anything. I was hopin' for veins of copper or silver when I crawled in to take a look at that hole."
"You mean the hole I was in?"
"Yep. They dragged me out… or in, just like they done you."
"What'd they do to you?"
"Oh, they had big plans for me, Pete. I done fucked every one of 'em time and again, but all they got was..."
"What?" he asked while handing the bowl over for a third helping. "What'd they get, Jack?"
"Ah, hell," Jack dejectedly answered. "It ain't somethin' I'm proud of." He handed Pete another dose of stew, then sat beside him. "Let's just say they got their own satisfaction. Still do, when I'm up for it, which is most the time."
"Why didn't you help me, Jack? Why'd you let them beat the hell out of me?"
"Because I went through the same thing. No one helped me. Besides, I know where this is headed. The worst is over. Don't worry, Pete. We men gotta stick together. We'll be fine."
Pete struck Jack's thigh with a good-natured slap. "Guess I'll have to trust you. Got no other choice."
"That's right," Jack chuckled, while returning the thigh slap. "You know, Pete, prospectin's a lonely business. That young feller I ran with was about your age. Name was Rodney, but I called him Rod. You know why?"
"I dunno. Nickname?" he guessed between slurps of stew.
"Partly, but more because I thought he had just about the purdiest pecker I'd ever laid eyes on. Balls, too. When Rod was hangin' with me, he was never wantin' for nothin'."
"Took good care of him, did you?"
“Had to. Nobody else around for a hundred miles. Situation like that, men gotta stick together… like I said.”
Pete never flinched when Jack's hand cupped Pete's balls. He merely continued to empty his bowl.
"Yep. Watchin' you perform for the ladies brought it all back. Your dick's just as handsome, but you got purdier nuts. Big and juicy they are."
"I can't believe they hand jacked it." He sat the dry bowl to the ground. "All those women and not a one of them took me up their twat or in their mouth. Kinda disappointing."
"Ol' Jack will take care of that," he whispered, while bringing his second hand to gently clutch the spongy cock-shaft. "If you'll let him."
Pete never said a word, instead pressing his hands to the dirt and maneuvering himself away from the wall. "Sure, Jack. Have at it."
Pete lay flat on his back, sprawling his arms past his head. With ankles bound in rope, Pete drew up his knees like a butterfly, giving room between his thighs for Jack to get at his ball sac. Just the thought of having a warm, wet tongue on his nuts and pecker had Pete 50 percent hard already, and he closed his eyes to enjoy whatever service Jack could come up with.
"God damn it, Jack," echoed the piercing voice of an old woman. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Celeste... I was just gonna ..."
"Gonna what? Drain him? You were warned, Jack Hutch."
A gaggle of females surrounded and grabbed hold, dragging Jack to the tunnel, but not before he could blurt out to Pete, "Son, don't believe what you see. I ain't as old as you think." He continued to shout as they disappeared into darkness. "I can still screw with the best of 'em. You'll see, I ain't licked yet." Jack's voice faded away, his information only further confusing Pete as to what the hell this was all about, so he asked.
“Damn you, Celeste Nehi, what the hell is this all about?“
"Pete Radcliffe, you may think you're a big man, but you ain't shown me nothing yet.” The old gal seemed to be in a sour mood. “Should've known I couldn't trust that old fool. Or you neither. Men! Bah! So typical. Understand this, Mr. Pete Radcliffe. Women rule here. This is my temple. You and Jack will learn the hard way what happens to men who desecrate my temple."
end of part 3a