Cuckolded by Blue Collar Cocks
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CowboyChapter 12 free porn video
He headed south for no good reason; and so a day or two later arrived in New Horizon. He saw one of the bills almost immediately and wondered where he had come to. He was tempted; he was also tempted to simply take advantage of the standard fare to finally find out what full-on, face-to-face, sex was like. “It’s time” he said out loud. A man looked at him and said “About noon I reckon”
“No, I ... never mind”
He found his way to the door that led to the land of carnal delights. Inside, standing at the desk was a woman of about thirty with a bust almost falling out of her dress. She held herself well, smiled and ask if she could help. He wasn’t sure what to do next, was he expected to negotiate? Pick a girl? Then he saw the ‘Special charges for Marie’ displayed on the counter. He looked and was surprised at the cost.
“Is Marie a euphemism perhaps?”
“Pardon? Oh, no, they are special prices. Our normal girls are substantially cheaper.”
“And, what is so special about Marie? If I may ask? It seems that the services she offers are rather specific. But only tomorrow?”
“That is the day Mr. Clinton has designated for me to service my first customers.”
“For you ... yes, I see.”
“No need to be embarrassed mister. I’m one of Jeb Clintons whores now, if you want me then book me. But the anal has already been booked” She was really not looking forward to accommodating the priest in that way. There were rumours that he had been shipped west after an incident with a choirboy, perhaps he planned to use her as if she was a boy? “But, get in soon, because there are others coming tonight and I can only be ‘first’ once”
“What is the story behind the auction? I saw a bill at the stables”
“That would be my daughter. She’s 12 and –”
“Twelve! What kind of a mother are you!?” He found his anger boiling over almost immediately. How could she be so heartless? He wanted to know. There was a small voice in the back of his mind saying ‘But you’d love to fuck a tight wee girl like that. You would wouldn’t you?” and it was true, he had even thought of the pretty girl on the trek – but she had been nearly thirteen; like that made it better – this knowledge that he was tempted fuelled his indignation. Suddenly she burst into tears and sobbed:
“It isn’t my choice, or hers; my husband died owing Clinton a lot of money and he is making me ... us ... pay it off”
What kind of a fucking country have I come to? He wondered; suddenly the wild-west nature that he had enjoyed cultivating fell away and he was back as the civilised Englishman. But he could do nothing. He walked out, determined that at least this monstrous man would not gain money from him. He went to the saloon round the corner and, after downing two whiskies, he went to the hotel and paid for a room. There, over a late midday meal (or an early evening one) he learnt that he had already lined Clinton’s pocket at the stables, the saloon and now the hotel. Really, it was too bad! The woman across from him heard him mumble “fucking bastard!” and looked at him.
“Oh, excuse me. I forgot where I was ma’am. I have just brought some wagons over from the east”
“That is no excuse” replied Mrs Clinton “But at least you have the politeness to apologise. I thought you were a cut above the normal cow hand; they usually bed down in the hostel; or the stables if they’ve spent all their money”
They started talking, at first at cross-purposes as he explained that he was horrified by what he had heard in the town, and she agreed – thinking he referred more generally than specifically. Finally she realised that this man was actually denigrating her own husband; and she had to agree privately to herself that auctioning a 12 year old virgin was beyond what even she thought of as an acceptable business transaction. Jesse was a nice girl and she was sorry that she was going to have such a hard night of it tomorrow, she had felt a little sorry when she first heard and the guilt of saying nothing had increased with time. She knew that the auction had elicited a lot of interest; men had travelled in from many miles away – she had initially assumed that this young man had come from Beka Valley for the same reason. Jeb was already making a good profit from the extra trade – as was the Golden Chariot which was an unexpected side-effect.
Eventually they went their separate ways, with him none the wiser that he had been talking to the wife of the man he had disparaged so roundly. She quietly asked Jeb if they really needed to auction the girl, perhaps the special charges for Mrs. Johnson were enough? But be explained that there would be a riot now if it was called off, and she said no more. Sometimes it was best not to interfere.
Later, Cavendish returned and booked a simple hand job from the elegant woman on the desk. She seemed almost grateful. She was in a peculiar way, she was pleased that she wouldn’t have to handle some ugly, overweight hypocrite’s dick. She tried to persuade him to book the oral session as well. After much entreating, Jeb had agreed that her final descent into hell should take place over two days. Sunday she would start easy with the hand job and then proceed to the anal fucking from Father Branden – who was forcing himself to abstain from the sin of self-pleasure to ensure he had plenty of spunk for her. Then she could rest; ‘relax’ Clinton had said – relax knowing that nearby your daughter is being forced to do who knows what; and the following evening the oral and then the final glorious vaginal sex would take place. The vaginal fuck had already been booked by Sam McCluskie, who had gone to great lengths to hide this payment in his books from his prying wife; actually she would have berated him but smiled inwardly at the cudgel she now had to use on him and the seeing-to that the sexy Marie Johnson was going to get.
“I’m sorry” he said “The hand job is all I can afford, though I’d love to have more. Anyway, by Monday I hope I’ll be far away from here”
Sunday evening arrived and so did Cavendish. As was usual, he handed over his pistol – Brad looked at it, snorted and put it behind the counter, then he searched him – after that Cavendish escorted the beautiful Marie upstairs. This was the first time he had seen her from behind (“No, ladies first, please”) and he did briefly think he was sorry that he wasn’t going to get that shapely, elegant and very, very, sexy arse as it preceded him up the stairs to her designated room.
Inside he looked at her, reached behind him, grunted a little and produce the tiny gun he had secreted in his bum-crack. “It was too big to go up my arse, but I figured he wouldn’t check too much”
“What do you want? Are you planning to get what you could not afford?”
“No, you stupid bitch” he slipped into the dialect he had learnt on the trail, where willing women were bitches and unwilling were ice. “Look, have you the courage to use this? If not, say. Because I’m pretty sure if Clinton works out what I’m doing he’ll not make it easy on me.
Good. When Father Branden comes, “he laughed, and so did she, she didn’t really know why given the seriousness of the situation “point this at him and make him sit down. Tie him up. Thoroughly! He mustn’t raise the alarm either deliberately or –” he stopped “Ohh, oh, yes, come on you fucking bitch, show me your tits!” Brad snorted outside and moved on. He imagined seeing Marie Johnson’s tits and went back downstairs. Later, he thought, he’d claim sloppy seconds from one of the girls. “- or accidentally, by appearing too early. Are you listening!?”
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry, look; I’ll do anything if you’ll save my daughter”
“Anything?” he questioned. She nodded “Truly? I’ve learnt a lot of ways in the last few months”
“Anything! I’ll suck your soft dick and ram it up me dry. I’ll –”
“-okay, okay. Look I’ll take you at your word. I’m sure you can teach me a few things.” She thought later that actually it was all theory, she had lain on her back and let her husband fuck her and that was all the practical experience she had. But she did mean it. She would do whatever he asked! If he could imagine it, she’d do it. “Right, tie him and gag him! Even if he promises to keep quiet. It’s important! For your daughter.
Then get across to the stables and tell them to get my horse – I’m Cavendish Young – ready. Tell them Jeb Clinton wants his horse ready too, and a third one. If they ask questions, bluff it. Whatever you want, but be ready with three horses!”
She looked at the little gun.
“Trust me, if you shoot him, you’ll wish you hadn’t. It will rip him open like a rotten squash. It will also make quite a noise! Make sure he does what he’s told.” She nodded. “Arhhh Arhhh. Yes. Rub it you fucking bitch! OH YESS!!!!!
No, I don’t want your stinking hand anywhere near me, get off!” he winked and left. There was no-one there but it was as well to be safe.
Downstairs he picked up his pistol and nodded at Father Branden, who was waiting with a guilty but expectant air. Cavendish hoped the O’Haras didn’t come this way and let the girls come into contact with him.
As he left, the auction began and the priest made his way upstairs, trembling with expectation.
“Now, ladies and gentleman! No, wait! There aren’t any ladies here!” there was a little laughter. “Oh! And I hope there ain’t no gentlemen neither!” there was a gale of laughter. No, no gentlemen here. The men were from all social strands – a reverend here, a rancher there, a couple of hopeful cowboys in the corner – and sizes – some were massive, wobbling lards, others like the Indian missionary were thin as a rake. The offer of a young girl, no questions asked and no demand refused was too good to miss.
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