The Abominable Crime of Buggery on the Australian Goldfields
by OldGayFox
20 Jan 2023 1476 readers Score 8.8 (33 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt
Part Two
(editors note: the journal containing part one of Jack’s adventures on the Australian goldfields, including what appears to have been a torrid meeting with Lola Montez during her tour in 1855, has yet to be uncovered)
After such a salacious and tempestuous evening with that tigress Lola, it was no surprise that I found myself in the town lockup sharing one of the dankest and most uncomfortable cells I'd ever been in, with a strapping lad probably in his late twenties.
He was somewhat the worse for drink, having been found attempting to buggerise a kangaroo in a paddock next to the local Primitive Methodist Church. He was sprawled across the wide stone bench that passed for the only bed in the establishment, some filthy straw vaguely passing for bedding, with a rusty pail in the opposite corner which I took to be the toilet. I had been in finer places.
Mind you, as I looked down at his not unappealing form I couldn't figure out why he'd need to buggerise a kangaroo when the town had so many drunk and horny miners whose hairy arses were just waiting to be breeched. I included myself in that number of course, although my own arse is hairless and as smooth as a silk purse, or so I've been told by gentlemen who have lingered back there.
My new friend's snoring told me that introductions would have to be made later, but in the meantime the night was getting colder by the minute and if I didn't get off my feet soon I'd be lying face down in the muck on the floor. Nothing for it but to park myself on the edge of the bench beside him and move him up against the wall as I attempted to stretch out with my back to him; a rough and ready introduction.
A few muttered swear words and a bit of meaningless thrashing and he adapted to the new sleeping arrangement well enough, recognising even half sozzled that two bodies would be warmer than one. I felt almost maternal when he threw an arm over me and pressed his solid body up against mine, and I was even more delighted when I felt what could only have been his hard cock rubbing up against my bum. The night was suddenly looking a whole lot more interesting.
I'd thought he was pissed and fast asleep but the insistent movement of his hips against my rear gave me to understand that he was perhaps not quite as drunk as I'd been told by the police officer. His head was immediately behind mine and he made a purring noise as he pressed his man root more firmly against my arse, his movements telling me that he was looking forward to a satisfactory conclusion.
"Can I fuck you?" he whispered into my ear, taking me by surprise.
"I thought you'd already fucked a kangaroo?" I replied, waiting to see how he'd react to such an accusation. He just laughed and went on grinding his root against me.
"Don't believe everything you hear mate. It was the officer I tried to fuck, but he didn't take kindly."
That was good enough for me. In answer to his question I undid my belt and the buttons on my trousers and pushed the back of my pants down to give him access to my bum. He fumbled behind me with his own arrangements and I soon felt the warm hard flesh of his cock pushing itself in between my arse cheeks. His calloused fingers slid up my crack and found my hole, which he fingered roughly before shoving his slippery knob hard against it.
"The name's Tom by the way” he said, “and I won't need no spit on my pisser”, which he proved by pushing his well lubricated knob into my tight arse. I grunted in pleasure and pain and told him my name was Jack, which he took as encouragement to push even harder, until my gut had swallowed his entire shaft.
What he lacked in finesse he made up for in vigour as he slid his thick cock in and out of my bum hole, each thrust seeming to open me up even further.
In no time at all I felt him spurt thickly inside me, his breathing heavy and laboured on the back of my neck. He'd evidently built up quite a load as the spurts kept on coming, which suited me just fine as I moved my hand down into my pants and hastily tugged on my own stiff tool, shooting my thick wad into the increasingly distressed pair of lace knickers I had “borrowed” from Miss Montez the evening before. Not exactly the most romantic lovemaking I know, but I've always managed to make do with the pleasures at hand, and I was sure Lola wouldn’t mind.
Despite the surroundings we both clearly felt satisfied and I was asleep shortly after my release, while my friend was snoring like a trooper mere seconds after his final ejaculation shot deep inside me. Whether it was the sex or the rigours of the day I cannot tell, but we remained locked in sleep until the sun began to lighten our cell the following morning.
Neither of us can have moved a muscle all night and, amazingly, his cock was still in my arse when I awoke, limp but showing definite signs of life. When I felt it start to harden and stir as he slowly began to wake up I helped things along by pushing back against his warm body, clenching the muscles of my anus tight around his shaft so that it couldn't accidentally slip out.
"You're a fucking slut Jack" he slurred, ramming himself against me to accentuate his words.
"And you're a roo-fucker Tom" I returned, pushing back even harder as I massaged his horn with my sphincter, a trick I'd picked up from a destitute German Count in Ballarat. He gasped, and his sudden orgasm took him by surprise as yet another load filled my passage.
Which is precisely when the guard chose to check up on his two prisoners.
"Well ladies, I trust you spent a pleasant evening together?"
I swear these were the first words he uttered on finding us virtually glued together on the bench, the effect of his words made even more bizarre by his appearance. He must have been in his mid to late forties, a big solid side-of-beef of a man, at least six foot tall and with a beard you could get lost in. His voice was deep and rich, but with a slight ladylike emphasis that got me thinking things might not be so bad for us after all.
Tom spoke up first as he casually slid his now limp member from my bum, which emitted a loud fuck-fart as the trapped air and moisture was finally released, much to my embarrassment and the constable's amusement.
"Come to see what you missed out on last night have you Constable Monaghan?" Tom said defiantly as he rolled onto his back, his large spent penis on display in the most flagrant manner imaginable. He was a big lad, no doubt about it, and he seemed intent on taunting our captor with his manhood, not to mention his sheer bloody nerve!
As I surreptitiously attempted to pull up the back of my trousers I looked harder at the policeman Tom had clearly attempted to fuck the previous night, and I couldn't blame him for trying. Here was a man you could happily spend quite some time getting to know, inside and out if you get my drift.
"Tom Shaugnessy it's a fine tool you have there alright, but you need to be more careful who you try to fuck with it, and when!” His Irish lilt was enchanting. “You and I both know I'm not averse to a bit of a fumble, but trying to roger me when I'm attempting to help one of your drunken mates, and in front of a church, was bound to land you in here with a sore head!"
I laughed out loud as I sat up on the side of the bench, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and trying to discreetly rearrange my still hard cock inside my pants. Looking back at Tom I was amazed to see that his cock was hard once again, and he was happily pulling on his foreskin as if it was the most natural thing in the world to find himself masturbating in front of the local copper.
"Put that thing away before I tickle those hairy balls with my nightstick!" Monaghan said, only half jokingly. Tom seemed to realise that he might have pushed things a bit too far and hastily handled his rod back into his pants, managing to sit up beside me with a look of sheepish amusement on his handsome face.
"Now tidy yourself up and get yourself back to your Ma's cottage before she realises that you're not there, and next time ask before you try to bugger a man!" His laughter followed Tom out of the cell, and I was pleased when the lad turned back before disappearing through the door to give me a dazzling smile and a lewd wink. It had been a rather pleasant night after all.
"I swear he's horny 24 hours a day! Probably tugging himself off behind the station this very minute!" Another laugh as he sat down next to me on the bench, stretching his legs out and relaxing against the wall. He pulled a tobacco pouch from inside his jacket and rolled a cigarette, offering me one which I refused; just about the only vice I'd never taken to.
"Rough night?" he asked, a glimmer of sarcasm in his voice.
"I've had worse" I responded, with no sarcasm at all.
His laugh was very endearing, and put me at my ease. I leant back and stretched my legs out as well, my boner still slightly evident through the coarse fabric of my trousers; to the discerning eye that is.
"All good then." he replied. "The lady from last night does not wish to follow the matter up, and she tells me that you can keep her knickers, seeing as how you looked so fine in them." He glanced across at me, but said nothing.
"Very sweet of her" I answered back, trying to keep any shade of surprise out of my voice.
"You look like shit and smell worse" he observed after a moment of silence. "Get up and follow me. There's a hot bath and a good meal back at my place if you know what's good for you."
He got up and I followed, too tired and fucked to find any reason not to, his broad back and friendly demeanour an added incentive to do as I was told.
(editor's note: to be continued in Jack’s next journal once it has been deciphered and transcribed)