03-26-2023, 09:40 PM
My Junior High buddy, Randy and I were always inventing games where one of us, mainly me, was shot/stabbed through the heart. I was a bit tall for my age, and had a pretty sturdy build. Any chance we got, he would place his hand on my chest to feel my heart beating. He also loved to place his ear on my chest and listen to my heartbeat. He would trace the edges of my outie belly-button - that would really get me hard. Among his favorite games to kill me was "Captured Cowboy". I was the cowboy captured by the Indian (Randy). I would be shirtless, hands tied behind my back (jump-rope we cut). I'd be wearing jeans and a silver belt-buckle that went from just under my belly-button to my zipper (this is Texas) and cowboy-boots. He would take into the woods to kill me. He walked behind me holding a toy-knife (the kind that retract) to my bare back. His other hand held the ropes around my wrists, his hand pressing against my butt so he could feel my glutes moving as I walked. When we reached the spot I was to die, he'd stop me and place me on front of a tree. He'd position me by placing one hand on my lower back, and the other on my chest, I'm sure his hand on my chest was there to feel my heart beating: THUMP-thump, THUMP-thump, THUMP-thump. After he had me where he wanted me, he'd walk a few steps back. I would stand with my feet apart. chest out, belly sucked in. I'd look down at my lean, young body - now slightly covered with sweat. My chest would be heaving, Randy liked to watch my chest expand while I breathed. I would admire my pecs and abs, and my belly-button swirl. Randy would take his old bow & arrow set (the kind with a suction-cup tip). He'd load an arrow into his bow and then take aim at my bare chest. I'd stand tall and stoic, ready to die. Sweaty chest ready to take his arrow. He'd shoot his arrow and it would strike my lower left pec, straight at my heart. I'd let out a low grunt, mt body would tense. I'd slam into the tree behind me, and start to slide down. Randy would walk to me, loading another arrow into his bow. As I lay on the ground, chest heaving, abs tense and trembling, he'd place the tip of his arrow directly on my chest. I'd be looking into his green eyes as he shot a second arrow into my pounding heart. I'd arche my back, groan a bit more, then lay still. Young, shirtless cowboy dies from two arrows through his Proud and Pounding Texas heart. Randy would kneel beside me, looking down at my lean, lifeless body. Then, place his ear on my chest, to be sure my heart was no longer beating.